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andydrysdalerogers · 4 months

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Cross-Checked - Chapter 3

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!.

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world.,

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again?

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

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Previous: It's That Last Step - Leighton

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 3 – Luke’s Gonna Kill Me - Leighton

**Six weeks later**

The season was off to a great start. Andy and Luke had an epic start to the season in light of everything that happened with Craig. Speaking of Craig, he ended up getting traded to Tampa Bay which made Andy extremely happy. From what I heard from some of the WAGs, Fiona refused to move to Florida with him. So much for true love. Last I heard, she took a job in New York.

Good riddance.

Andy and I had gotten into a good routine once I finished moving in and so far, I love living with my best friend. As social media director, I got to travel with the team, so I saw Andy and my brother all the time. It made dealing with the heart ache that much easier. Bret had left an email letting me know where the stuff I didn’t take with me was and that was about it. No groveling, no asking for me to reconsider. Three years together and that was it. I wasn’t sure if I felt relieved, heartbroken or depressed. Yes, when it happened, I cried on Andy’s shoulder but I think it was the shock of Bret asking me to be his little housewife. On well, life moves on.

The Bruins were three weeks into the season, and I was packing up for a 10-game road trip when I heard the front door slam. Heavy footsteps hit the stairs and my favorite pair of blue eyes were in my doorway. “Hey princess!”

Yes, I am well aware mat my parents are big Star Wars fans and named their kids Luke and Leia. After I grew up a bit and Luke and Andy had watched said movies, Andy took to calling me "Princess" no matter how much I objected to the name stuck and here we are.

“Hey Chewy!” If I had to get an awful Star Wars nickname, then so did he

Andy threw himself onto my bed. “Ready for the road trip?”

I sighed as I packed the last packing cube into my suitcase. Yes, I was one of those that used packing cubes. I liked to be organized and plan everything out. Sue me. “Almost,” I replied. “Just got to get my carry-on tote.”

Andy looked over my bags. “How much shit does one girl need?” He lifted out a cube and I yanked it back.

“Don’t judge me! Not all of us were born devilish good looking in just a button down and jeans. I need to have options.” I put the cube back into its place as I looked over my packing list.

“Princess, you are just living up to the title now,” Andy said with a laugh.

I blushed. “One of these days you’ll need a sewing kit and can’t find one and you’ll be crawling to me for help.” I grabbed a pillow and smacked him with. “And If you continue to be mean to me then no chicken parm for you.”

Andy perked up. “Chicken parm?” I knew I had him with his favorite meal

“Yep with home made garlic bread.”

Andy flopped down with a moan. “What did I do to deserve you?” I giggled as I made check marks on my list. “Like you clean and cook and all I have to do is my own bathroom and laundry and give money for groceries.”

“It’s Iike having a girlfriend without all the messiness,” I dead panned. I’m not sure why I said it but it pulled at my heart all the shit that Andy had to go through with the spawn of Satan. It also cut me to know that Andy would never see me as anything other than his best friend. I think that stung more.

“Hey, its not like that, Princess,” Andy started. “You know that I cherish you more than anyone in the world.” He took my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I didn’t mean with anything my comment. I'm saying that living with my best friend has been the greatest time of my life.”

Goddammit. Why does he have to say shit like that? I give him a soft smile. “Its been the best time for me too, Chewy.”

Andy bounced out of bed. “Let’s go eat so we head out to the plane.” He placed himself in front of me and I climbed on his back so he could carry me down stairs.

As Andy takes out my bag from the trunk, a body slams into me from behind. “Oof!”

“Hey girl!” I smile at the voice of Bruins trainer and best friend Stella Williams

“Hey Stel.” I turned as I grabbed my bag. “I’m all set to be stuck on an overnight flight with my best friend and 30 men who have no sense of privacy.” I gave a big smile to Andy, who rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. If I wasn’t aboard, who will protect you from your brother?” My mouth went to argue but he was right. Dammit. “That’s what i thought.”

“You know, I hate you sometimes.” I stick my tongue out at him.

“No, you don’t.” He flashes that fucking smirk that could make a nun swoon.

I really don’t but I won’t admit it. I headed to the plane with my head held high, ignoring the laughter coming from Stella and Andy behind me.

“Hey little sister!” Luke came over and lifted me into a hug. “How are you, Cubby?”

While Andy called me Princess, Luke called me Cubby as in his baby cub that he took care of. Made sense since Lukas Andrews was not a small man. Standing 6 foot 1 and easily 230 pounds of solid muscle, Luke was one of the best enforcers for the Bruins. He protected his players, and he learned that by protecting me.

“Hey Flyboy.” Oh yeah, if Andy and I had Star Wars nick name, then Luke would have one too. Yes, I know, that’s what Leia called Han but Luke had no good nicknames. We’ve done the research. One weekend, six movies and Andy forever calling himself “General Solo.” The man has a problem sometimes. “I’m doing good, attempting to control myself from hurting your captain.”

“What did Andy do now?” Luke smiled, looking over my shoulder at his best friend. I harrumphed at his attitude and shoved my suitcase in his gut, bending him over with an oof. “What?”

“Gang up on me and pay the consequences, Flyboy. Just remember who makes you look good on social media so the ladies think they have a chance.” I flash him my “sugary sweet and so innocent smile that you should fear” smile. His smile falls and he swallows.

“You are scary sometimes, you know that?”

“I do, and yet, you still gave me your password.” I flounced away, taking the stairs up the plane to get to my seat. The plane is divided into three sections. Coaches and trainers are usually up front, followed by support staff and then the players. Stella and I are the bridge between support and trainers and sit together on the plane. As I was getting my headphones and book ready for the flight to California, I stopped and said hello to all the players as they walked by. Most just nod or wave, Andy moved to ruffle my head, which I dodged and smacked his hand as he laughed. I got myself settled, waiting for Stella.

“Hey Leia,” another voice sounds. I snap my head over to see one of our goalies, Jeremy, stop at my aisle.

(Meet Jeremy)

“Hi, Jeremy.” I really don’t know what to say. Jeremy stopping to say hello to me is new, not unwelcome but new. He is one of the best goalies in the business and well, fuck it, he’s really cute. “Ready for the road trip?” I ask because I have nothing else.

“Ready! Always wanted to go to Disneyland,” he said with a wink.

My dead heart beats just a bit faster. Its been two months since Bret left and I haven’t even thought of another man, besides Andy. I forgot what it felt like to be flirted with. “That would be cool if we had the time.” I saw Stella board. “Oops, here comes trouble!” I announce as Stella approaches.

“I’ll let you get settled.” Jeremy smiles. “Maybe we can have a drink sometime. See ya Leia, Stella.” He moved on to his seat and I watched as he walked away. I caught Andy’s face looking at me and for a moment, he looked angry but then he smiled at me, and I knew it was ok.

“Why was Jeremy Swayman talking with you,” Stella asked. She loved a good romance story.

I shrugged. “No clue.”

Thirty minutes later we were in the air and the team manager was going over the schedule for the next ten days. A ten-day roadie is brutal in the best of times but one with a huge time difference was the worst. The captain announced we were at altitude and shut off the lights in the cabin. I needed to try and stay awake so I didn’t get jet-lagged and would be able to snap our arrival in San Jose. Suddenly, my stomach twisted. “Stel, move please?”

“We haven’t even had anything to drink yet,” she grumbled slowly.

“Stella, move!” I whisper yelled. She moved and I raced up the aisle. I made it into the bathroom and heaved everything we had for dinner. I sank to the floor as I tried to breathe through the pain in my stomach and throat. After a few minutes, I was able to get up and wash my face and mouth as best I could.

“What the hell was that, Leia?” Stella looked me over. “Girl, you are pale and clammy.”

“I have no fucking clue, Stel. My stomach just hurt all of sudden.” Great, that was the last thing i needed. I didn’t want to be sick while we were in California. Early November in California still meant great weather and I wanted to take advantage since fall has already made an appearance in Boston. “I hate being sick on the road.” I threw back my head against the head rest.

“Maybe it's just a one off, Leia. It happens. Let’s just wait and see in San Jose.”

The rest of the flight was fine and traveling to LA meant that it was only three hours from when we took off according to the body clocks. The guys were headed to the hotel bar, but Stella and I stayed in, reviewing the photos that i took as we left the plane.

“These are so good, Leia. Everyone is looking good. Especially Swayman, Barber and your brother.” She gives me a smirk while I gag.

“Gross Stella. My brother is not hot.” I make a disgusted face as I look at him. His cocky smile came because I said I would send the photo to Miranda. I shuddered and looked at the photos of Andy. The guys are required to be dressed in business casual at minimum. Most are in slacks and a button down, but Andy is never in less than a three piece. It's his signature fit and let me tell you, I and the rest of the female population, appreciate it. Today’s was a three piece blue pinstripe. Many blessings to his tailor because that suit fits like a glove.

“You can stop drooling over Barber and tell me what is going on with Swayman.” Stella takes a drink of the wine we brought with us.

I feel my cheeks burn a little. “I don’t know. I know the guys know I’m single now because my brother had a big mouth but that thing with Jeremy is new.” Very new. As in, what the fuck is going on. Jeremy is handsome, I would be blind to deny that but I’m just not ready to date. “It's nice though, to be flirted with.”

“Andy flirts with you all the time,” Stella points out.

“He does not. He’s nice because he’s my best friend, my brother’s best friend. It's been that way for years.” Disappointment washes over me. “Yeah, right would Andy Barber have a thing for me. I mean, let’s check Stella. I clean for him, he makes me breakfast. I make dinner, he does dishes. We are in a mutually beneficial relationship, and not a romantic one.”

Stella rolls her eyes. “You are either blind or naive, Andrews. The man is into you.”

I lay back on the bed with a sigh. “I wish. Especially when he is walking around in just a shirt and gray sweatpants. Or in the mornings when he is climbing out of the pool after his swim.”

“Tell me,” Stella swoons. “Tell me he had more than six abs.”

“I will not. He has six and they are spec-tac-ular.” I went to sit up and that twist happens again, and I run to the bathroom. Stella follows to hold my hair back as I have my exorcist moment. Finally, it stops, and I sit back against that bathroom wall.

Stella gets a washcloth and wets it. She crouches down and presses it against my forehead, and I moan at how good it feels. “I don’t mean to upset you but is there something you want to tell me?” I look up at my best friend’s eyes. “I mean, could you be pregnant?”

I laughed a little. “Stella, be real. I haven’t had sex since...” and I stop. I count back and realize that I didn’t have a cycle and I’m late for this month. “Oh, shit.”

I think Stella can see the panic on my face. “Ok, relax. I’m going to the corner market, and I’ll be right back. It's gonna be ok. Can I leave you here and promise you won’t do anything drastic?” I nod because I really can’t say anything. She leaves and I’m alone.

Why the fuck didn’t I notice before? I mean, I guess the stress of the break up and the move took its toll. Add on that and work and of course I wouldn’t have notice. Bret was hyper aware when it was time because he liked to schedule his work trips around it. He didn’t want to be around for the inevitable break downs and cravings of having your period. God, he was such a jerk. Thinking of him made me think of when this possibly could have happened. And it hits me. It had been around Labor Day, and we were fooling around before his work trip. I was that 0.03% of woman who have her contraception fail.

Stella walks back a moment later and hands me a test. I stare at it like it's a snake ready to strike my hand and I look up at Stella. “The faster you do this the faster you can either panic or party. It's up to you.”

She’s right and I hate it. I pee on the stick and set it on its wrapping on the counter. I walk out and chug about half a gallon of water, in fear, I think. “What am I going to do?”

“Not yet,” she says. We sit there in silence as we wait for the longest three minutes of my life. I’m not sure if I want it to be positive. Yes, I’ve always wanted kids. But I thought I would be married and happy. I’m happy but I live with my brother’s best friend and what if he doesn't want kids in his home? What if he asks me to leave? I know my brother would take me in but who really wants to live with their brother? Miranda just moved in. Stella’s phone beeps and I look at her. “Ready?”

“No.” She looks at me with her threatening face, which is terrifying by the way, and she points to the bathroom. I get up, my legs shaking and head to the counter.

“What am i going to do Stella?” We’re sitting at the restaurant in the hotel the next morning. I’m hungry, which is a nice change from being nauseous.

“Let’s get through the road trip and then we will plan and worry.” Stella slathered her toast in jam and then dunks it in her over-easy eggs.

“If you want me to throw up, do that again,” I say with a gag. I concentrate on my scrambled eggs and toast for a few minutes. "Can I just say, I really have no idea how I’m going to tell my brother. He is going to lose his shit,” I stop and blurt. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell Andy.”

“Tell me what?”

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novankenn · 9 months

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Reluctant Hero?

= Twenty-Seven = (Chapter List)

Ozpin: Yes team. Team JNC or Junk. Lead by Jaune Arc. Made up of Nora Valkyrie and Cardin Winchester.

Cardin: Hold up! Huntsmen teams are made up of four people, not three. Where's our fourth?

Ozpin: Until such time as someone suitable becomes available, you will remain as a trio and not a quartet.

Cardin: I call bullshit.

Ozpin: Call it what you want. It is how it is. Now, as classes will not start for a few more days, you have plenty of time to get acquainted and formulate how you wish to tackle this task. Beacon’s armouries and stores, will be open to you, for anything additional you feel you may need.

Jaune: So this is how it is?

Ozpin: It is. You know what is out there Mr Arc, and Ms Valkyrie and Mr Winchester seem to be fairly competent when dealing with this... issue. So your team is my only option.

Jaune: I have conditions.

Ozpin: Mr Arc...

Jaune: Conditions, or we walk, and you can explain to people why your search parties all vanish.

Ozpin: Conditions like?

Jaune: We're not staying in student dorms. I want alternate housing arranged. Preferably, one where we each have our own room.

Ozpin: That is doable. Anything else?

Jaune: We're not held accountable for the condition of any recoveries.

Ozpin: Granted.

Jaune: Dress code and code of conduct no longer apply to us. If we decided to get blitzed in our room, or on the roof, we can. No interference, because we are dealing with freaky ass shit here, and we will need a way to relax.

Glynda: Ozpin, don't.

Ozpin: As long as it is all in moderation and remains in the realm of legal... I agree.

Jaune: (Looks over his shoulder at Nora and Cardin) You guys good with this? No pressure if you want out of this shit-sandwich.

Cardin: I'm game. (Looks at Nora) What about you short-stack?

Nora: Well? What are my choices? Go to classes, or go into some creepy woods with a chainsaw handed loony, and a closet racist?

Cardin: Hey! I'm not...

Jaune: And what do you choose?

Nora: I choose the Loon and Racist. Besides, I need some payback for Rennie.

Jaune: (Returns his attention to Ozpin totally unfazed by Nora's comments) Looks like Team JNC is reporting for duty.

/==/ 1 Hour Later - Infirmary /==/

A freshly showered Jaune entered the infirmary solo. His teammates having chosen to check out their new accommodations. He was just about to ask the On-Duty Nurse where he could find Pyrrha's room when a short, white haired young woman charged up to him.

Jaune: Hey Snowy!

SLAP!

Jaune: What the hell?

Weiss: The name is WEISS SCHNEE, not Snowy!

Jaune: Okay...

SLAP

Jaune: Hey! What was that for?

Weiss: You cut off my ARM! You're a barbarian! You... you… neanderthal! How could you do that to me? Do you know who I am! I'm going to have you charged and... and sue!

Jaune: Whoa, hold it there, Snowy!

SLAP

Jaune: Would you stop that!

Weiss: The name is Weiss!

Jaune: Okay, Weiss... firstly, I SAVED your life by conducting that impromptu surgery, or did you want to become some soul sucking hell bitch? As for suing me... good luck... I'll fight you tooth and nail to keep the Classic from your gold digging hands!

Weiss: The Classic? What the hell is a classic?

Jaune: What? You don't know about the Classic? The Delta 88, my pride and joy.

Weiss: No, I don't, and I really don't care. I'm going to sue you for every lien you have!

Jaune: (Laughing as he reached into his pocket) Here! If you needed some scratch so bad, you just need to ask. NO need to threaten people. (Pulls out a two lien chip and holds it out to her)

Weiss: (More than a little confused by his actions) I... I...

Jaune: No need to feel embarrassed about needing some money. I'm happy to give you a hand getting back on your feet.

Weiss: I DON'T NEED a handout! I'm Weiss Schnee! Heiress to the Schnee Dust Company! One of THE richest women on Remnant!

Jaune: Oh, in that case. (Puts the lien chip back in his pocket.)

#rwby #ash vs evil dead #horror themed #jaune arc #deadites #deadite grimm #glynda goodwitch #headmaster ozpin #weiss schnee

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sadbeautifulttragic · 8 months

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saw ur post!!! want to debate random things, and just give my honest humble tumblr opinions!!! ❤️💙💜

1- cake is not as good as other desserts!

2- me is an amazing song and it did what taylor wanted to do. if ppl didn’t bug her it woulda been on the set list

3- boneless wings are glorified chicken nuggets

4- ur such a cool tumblr

5- water is the best liquid 🙏

6- drag queens help children more than conservatives who hate drag ppl

7- music isn’t made like those club songs in the 2000-2010s! lemme see that thong, and those rebooks with da fur

8- ppl could do such fun things with lamps- tapestries, fancy bulbs, and we sleep on it. give me fancy eclectic lamps all day long

9- ppl who don’t do something because it’s ‘too popular’ bug me so much! just like taylor swift. just admit how bob ross makes the best clouds. just put on game of thrones. it won’t kill you

10- flannel should be for all seasons- not just primarily fall!

11- ur so cool! i love following you

12- it’s fine for some ppl to be to scared and use anonymous mode. i’m shy but still want you to see my opinions. don’t get mad, i’ll cry.

13- 3 types of mustaches. the 🌽stache, the pervy 🥸, and the mario stache 🍄

14- kindness is hotter than anything! ^ specifically mustaches lmao

15- it’s easier to be productive at night for me!

16- judging a book by its cover isn’t bad if you have good instincts! i’m kinda judgy but it’s helped me know bad from good

17- i don’t like ppl sharing VERY big opinions on things they aren’t educated in! like, stop talking about how vaccines kill kids when you got a degree in English in 1994 and have just been at home with the kids since then. stop. it’s annoying. do researcher!

18- i’m so awesome. it’s not an opinion or hot take. it’s a fact.

19- we shouldn’t pressure ppl to have perfect manicured lawns. it’s hard to keep up with! it’s fine to be overgrown.

lemme know if you’re in love with me and you agree!

omg anon so sorry I didn't see this!! I'm gonna respond with my thoughts on all of these

no I love cake! what dessert is better to you?

wholeheartedly agree. I think it's perfect and (spelling is) FUN

yes but I like boneless wings so...sue me

safdklkdsl so are you!!! (that's so nice thank you!!)

water truly is superior, I love it!!!

facts!!!! drag queens reading in libraries to kids makes me so happy, like do people not realize it's about self expression and empowerment?? isn't that what we want for kids?

facts my 2000s bops playlist just hits on a whole new level

huh, didn't think much about this until now. you're onto something...

I feel that, ppl get that superiority complex if they don't like something popular and it's like bestie it doesn't matter

I do love flannels, so comfy

askjfdsljskl <3

oh of course! the hateful anons ruin it for the ppl who genuinely just wanna connect!

I'm confused??

true!! can't be with you if you're not kind (especially to others and behind closed doors!)

same, I don't feel fully awake until like 4pm

oh true, I've gotten out of scary situations by trusting my gut and going based on instinct

yes, ppl love to act like they know lots about everything. it's ok to say you believe whatever you want but don't be surprised if someone comes in with factual info against it

hahah love the confidence!

if I ever own a house I want a clover lawn so bad!!!

#anons #sorry I didn't get to this until now!!!

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jonathanrook · 2 years

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🎬📺share ten different favorite characters from ten different pieces of media in no particular order🎮🃏 Then send this to 10 (anon or not, your choice)

fun fact! much like my eighteen page long fanfic rec list, i have a seven page long list of my favorite characters with extensive annotations. i picked ten of them and just copy pasted their entire description. i know this is just a silly ask game and no one really cares but. unfortunately you came to my house w this so you have to deal with the consequences. also here's the emoji key:

bill cipher (gravity falls)😈👹😳💲 i can and will fuck the triangle what are you gonna fucking do about it. i am not immune to tumblr sexyman or goth girls. look, at least i’m not trying to literally humanize him; take the evil bastard triangle or take nothing at all!!! i blame the scene where he steals the teeth from the deer and then puts them back. i also blame alex for being such a good voice actor. regardless i’m walking out into the nevada desert as we speak.

dorian gray (penny dreadful)🏳‍🌈💕😈👹😳👀💲 yea i watch penny dreadful for the plot *fast forwards through scenes dorian isn’t in* anyway every lesbian is legally allowed one real man to be unapologetically attracted to before the government takes notice and begins to tax them and reeve carney is my freebie. also idk if he counts as a monster but i’m saying close enough bc this is my list and i can do whatever i want.

guillermo (wwdits)🏳‍🌈💕😈👀 this man is too fucking pretty that’s illegal. i can’t believe harvey guillen invented gender good for him.

the handler (the umbrella academy)😈😳 mommy? sorry. like, the milf of all time. yea i watch the umbrella academy for the plot *fast forwards through scenes the handler isn't in*

red x (teen titans)💅😈😳💲 this man is transmasc and there’s nothing you can do about it. the sexiest line delivery in the entire show is in x when robin catches him trying to steal the xenothium and locks him in a cage and he goes, “c’mon kid. you don’t really think this little play pen can hold me?” anyway sir my highest score on the bdsm test is brat tam– *i’m taken out back and you hear a single muffled gunshot*

richie (it)🏳‍🌈🧠💕🧸👀🐺💲 absolute definition of character of all time. and you KNOW he can’t go back to childhood what the fuck!!! i would die for this man but ig eddie beat me to it yikes. the first time i watched ch2 i cried about it for twelve hours straight. i think i have grounds to sue muschietti for this unlicensed use of my image ngl.

scene (mymusic)💅🧠💕🧸💲 MY LITERAL BIOLOGICAL DAUGHTER! sometimes i forget she’s not actually gay in canon bc it makes sense!! indie and jeff are comphet and flowchart is a creep! open your eyes sheeple!! conversely i think she’s the only character on this list who’s neurodivergent canonically by name so that’s dope! we stan a dyslexic queen whose disability doesn’t weigh her down!!

topher (dollhouse)🧠😈😳 every lesbian is legally allowed one real man to be unapologetically attracted to before the government takes notice and begins to tax them and fran kranz is the reason i have to pay. in this house we ignore the season finales. my boy is alive and there’s nothing you can do about it! this man is my poor little meow meow.

vampire willow (btvs)🏳‍🌈😈👹😳💲 yes she’s her own character. probably my actual gay awakening whoops. the wish?? hello?? you want a puppy miss i can bark. also unsure whether to mark her as real gay or fake gay but willow calls her “evil, skanky, and a little gay” which is a) gender and b) canon enough for me.

will (stranger things)🏳‍🌈🧠💕🧸🐺💲 look my mans is relatable for several reasons but the snow ball scene at the end of s2 was designed specifically to kill me in particular. i believe in will the wise supremacy. he just wanted to play dnd! we’ve all been there! oh god have i been there!!! i cried so hard after s3ep3 that my mom asked me if i’m gay whoops. sexy bitches don’t come out they just talk about how much they like richie tozier and will byers until the people around them take notice.

edit:

#also i'm not sending this to anyone if you want to pretend i'd send it to you send it to yourself on anon #i give you permission #long post #anon #question

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marshmallowloves · 2 years

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Zelda OC #2 - Ixchel + Seracia

>> (list of posts for other OCs)

(just a forewarning - even with the read more, this one is gonna be lengthy 😂)

After being introduced more to the Zelda series by my friend, I excitedly went home and attempted to play through the few games that I owned. I got the farthest in Oracle of Seasons - or at least that's the one I played the most. I can't really remember. But, eventually I moved and was forced to change schools, so I kind of fell out of the hype that my friend instilled in me, and I didn't really touch the games for a long while.

Fast forward to… somewhere around 8th grade, when I was around 13. I couldn't pinpoint the year because to be perfectly honest, most of late middle school to early high school is a complete blank in my memory. Anyway, my mom bought me Twilight Princess for the Wii (I know, I know, put down your pitchforks, none of the local stores even sold the GC version at the time - and we weren't about to pay extra to get it shipped to our broke asses) ...and instantly, I was enamored. Now that I was older, I felt I could actually appreciate the games for their content instead of just going "oh haha hee hee, I am playing the Zelda game! I am into the Zeldas!"

I don't even think I finished the game in its entirety before I chugged out an OC, specifically for Twilight Princess. And this time I was determined to make an OC that would put the cardboard-cutout of Saria Kamia to shame. With the OC Remix "Ancient Hero" playing on repeat on my orange iPod Nano, I scurried over to a now-defunct dollmaker on DeviantArt (thanks, adobe) for ideas, and out came Ixchel and Seracia.

Unfortunately, I do not have the original screenshot from said dollmaker. I do, however, have an old notebook drawing of the first Ixchel (pronounced "EESH-tuh-shell") - she went through a major redesign, but we'll get to that.

(with my real name oh so hastily blurred out kjdhfg)

Ixchel was a name that I found while on Behind the Name - I don't remember what criteria I was searching for, but Ixchel was the name of a Mayan goddess and it supposedly means "rainbow lady." And I do love me some rainbows and names with unusual letters in them! So I wrote it down, butchered the real pronunciation, slapped it on my OC and called it a day.

Ixchel was, for all intents and purposes, a normal Hylian girl (yes I know the "race" part is blank, I know she's a Hylian though dkfjdf). Sure, I slapped on the heterochromia because I needed to make sure she wasn't too plain, but because I was so obsessed with avoiding the Mary Sue clichés, I made it a point to keep her as "regular ol' person" as possible... Well, except for the fact that I later gave her a choker that could literally paralyze people if they made eye contact with her during a very specific phase of the moon. Y'know, normal Hylian girl stuff.

I finally shipped her with Link - because what self-respecting, basic-bitch Zelda fangirl didn't want to jump into Twilight's pants after seeing the first sumo wrestling cutscene? There was no substance, though. I don't remember giving her any distinct personality, nor was there any story as to how they met - I only had daydreams and maybe one or two doodles in which she thinks about him in a romantic context but doesn't say anything. This was at a weird point in time where I kind of knew what self-shipping was, but not by name, and was coming to terms with the fact that I had a crush on a fictional character while being a whole-ass teenager, and not being 9-10 years old and innocently thinking Ash Ketchum was cute - so I think I danced around the ship with Link out of embarrassment, but it was so long ago that I can't be too sure.

Anyway, thanks to this image, I was able to redraw her several years later, looking much nicer and probably much closer to how I intended for her to look. (and here's an extremely rare occurrence - this drawing has a date on it! May 17th, 2016.)

However, this is the last we see of this version of Ixchel. After a while, I decided that she was rather basic - actually more of an "anti-sue," really - and should fit a bit more into the Zelda universe, rather than just be some normal chick with pointed ears. So I did what any loving creator would do - ditched her on the side of the road, appearance and personality and all, and created a whole separate OC with the same name.

The new and improved Ixchel was, in retrospect, hit-and-miss. This time around, my Zelda OC actually had a personality! She was a plucky young adventurer who loved exploring and testing her mettle through battle. She had a very casual attitude, and her thrill-seeking ways sometimes got her in over her head, but she was kind at heart and wouldn't hesitate to help someone who needed it. Her design wasn't bad either, I think - the cargo shorts are admittedly a bit modern, but she definitely looks like a fantasy adventurer, which is what Zelda games are supposed to be like. So this was the "hit" part!

The "miss" part comes in the fact that she once again has a fairy - wait a minute, that's the bitch from the last post!! No, wait, this one is orange, and her name is spelled differently… Those things might have changed, but hoo boy, Seracia (shortened to Sera) did not change her bitchy ways. Still snarky, still sassy, and still insufferable, to the point where Ixchel would regularly put her in glass time-out just to get her to cut the sass - and that still didn't work.

Not only that, but Ixchel also had a pet wolf named Olive. Whether it was because I was in the throes of my teenage years and wolves were cool and edgy, or because I was just that in love with Wolf Link's whole schtick, I wanted a piece of that action too, so I gave Ixchel a rideable wolf that I never drew because to this day I cannot draw animals to save my life. Nevermind that apparently in TP (which Ixchel was made for) everyone in Hyrule shits themselves at the sight of an oversized puppy - Ixchel could literally waltz into Castle town on the back of her giant danger dog and nobody would bat an eye. In fact, that was the opening scene to a story I began writing with another friend at the time - but discussing that story at length would require its own post.

Ixchel's weapons were interesting as well. The idea for them came from (hilariously) Jenna's Phoenix Circles in the infamous Zelda badfic My Inner Life - which themselves are vaguely based on real-life chakram. Here, I called them "Dream Rings" and then later renamed them to "Razorings." They had retractable blades and could be carried on Ixchel's shoulder when not in use.

And lastly, a part that is both hit and miss - I shipped her with Twilight Link as well. At first it was admittedly self-indulgent - there's a picture of them smooching somewhere in my folders. However, I later decided to change it so that Ixchel's love was unrequited. Whether I was, again, embarrassed to crush on a fictional boy at that age or if I was just pants-shittingly afraid of falling into the "loves Link" cliché that many Mary Sues did, at the end of it all, Link fuckin' friendzones her and honestly, that's actually great. It's about time Link successfully escaped the thirsty fangirl.

#zelda #loz #legend of zelda #oc #Ixchel #Seracia #Ixchel and Seracia

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autism-corner · 9 months

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Put all the UR(+) cards i have in the OG obey me into different diagrams =w=bb

sorted by; person, sin, whether I actually use the card or not, and type (chapter A, regular gacha's, UR+'s, or Event cards).

more ramblings about this info under the cut <3

its so clear who i like and who i dont <3

although i have more belphie cards i actually use less of his than levi's

somehow i have more UR+ than other types, but you have to remember that "A" and "Event" also should count towards the Regulars, which i didnt do. I should have 44 UR's vs my 31 UR+'s

anytime i get a new UR(+) i can just add it onto a list in the same document and all this information will be updated!! YIPPEE

any of this information is also able to be crossreferenced, in the base tab theres a table with how many cards i have of everyone, sorted by sin. Actually i'll just show you:

heheh its so fun

in this same google excel document i also have 2 tabs dedicated to NB and if i've gotten a FC or PC for every single variant =w=bb WITH PROOF +w+

anyway back to the OG diagrams, you can see i only have 2 envy cards that i use, despite me having that sin the most (along with greed). whats not in this document is my beloved Luke 21 B-day SSR, my strongest card TO DATE. STILL. its somehow way stronger than any other UR so theres not really a need for envy cards all that much =w=bb

Aside from levi, the only other guy who's card i use more than not is simeon. I think thats because 2 of his UR's (the ones i still use) go al the way back to when i first started. so, early ur's, very well leveled from the start, and i just kept using em.

you'll see that i have more cards of Levi that i use than that there are actual sins. this is because im a sucker for him and want his pretty cards to be leveled. maybe they have an outfit, maybe its a UR+ that i want to replace a UR, something like that.

also. yes i have a total of 75 cards, out of which only 27 i really use. sue me. i like collecting the pretty pictures.

I could make another infograb on whether or not ive read the devilgram but lemme tell you... those'll look very two-sided. literally every Levi & Belphegor cards'll be there and MAYBE 2 other singulair cards from the beginning days.

i think it'd be fun to keep track of how strong each card is but that is WAY too much to do without automisation. none of this is linked to my actual game im putting it all in by hand. so imagine having to change it any time a card levels up.... PAIN.

yes i do also have a karasu-os.com account (not-real-boy :)) but that wont let me have this much fun of graphics :(

If anyone at all is interested in a black of this entire doc for your own use id be willing to share ofc =3=bb

#its so clear to see who i like and dont its funny imo <3 #YAY autism <3 #btw if you wanna have this for your cards im more than willing to share <3 #it'll take sometime to put your cards in but thats worth it imo #sillyposting #s/o to the guys who's cards i dont use one of <3 y'all can fall in a pit ig =3=#joking ofc. i can in fact stand barbs <3 #obey me

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iwadori · 3 years

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When they neglect you for another girl Part 4 (Sakusa)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Word Count: 2.6K

Genre: Angst to Fluff

masterlist

AN: YES I DID PUT MYSELF IN THIS STORY! SUE ME. This is basically inspired by a random conversation i had w the great @teesumu, so this is basically for you doll <3

Sakusa:

You and Sakusa have been together for a around 10 years and love eachother immensly.

However recently Sakusa has been busy and you havent really had much time together lately as he claims been busy doing loads of visits with his new agent.

But of course, being the loving partner you are you wanted to revive the spark in your relationship.

You have been seeing a lot of people on social media posting their aesthetic ‘picnic dates,’ and you knew that this was something that appealed to you before it was ‘on trend.’ Kiyoomi immediately came to your mind once you had the idea of going on a date. You knew that you haven’t be around each other lately, as Kiyoomi always had either a ‘meeting’ or some sort of ‘interview’ that his new agent “Empress” has set up for him.

You didn’t really know Empress that well, just that she was ‘good at her job,’ a ‘hard and dilligent worker,’ and a ‘raging hottie’ with Atsumu’s opinion being the last one. You weren’t suspecting her to have any malicious intent towards you or Kiyoomi, since you knew that he had a great judge of character. But it was just odd, that every time Kiyoomi was running late or having ‘super-secret’ conversations on the phone it was always because ‘my agent set up this,’ ‘my agent set up that,’ and that’s what left you a bit wary.

As you were scrolling through your phone you see a calendar updating saying : Next Week‘ A DECADE AGO WE FELL IN LOVE.’

10 years. How could you forget? You and Omi have literally been together for a decade. You think back to the decade of madness and love you’ve been through together, smiling fondly to yourself but then you think about where you are now... barely even talking to each other, only mainly seeing him when he comes home from work.

You need to fix this. Or at least make an attempt to get you and Kiyoomi talking again. So, the only thing you can do, is plan that picnic.

You spent the rest of the day planning your anniversary picnic. ’It’s going to be great,’ you think to yourself, you have a list of all Omi’s favorite foods you're going to make him and bring and you are probably going to pick up a few board games and maybe even get some paint supplies. You and Kiyoomi used to paint a lot together, with the two of you not being the best of painters, but you enjoyed eachothers company non the less.

Everything was sorted...for the most part. All you needed to do was get Omi there, and it’ll all be okay. Right? As you were bubbling and looking for more picnic inspo, you hear your front door open which made you even more excited to tell your boyfriend your plans.

As you rush to go greet him, you see he’s on the phone making you roll your eyes. “No Empress it won’t work, we need this sorted by next week. Okay? Next week.” he says in an agitated way. He hangs up the phone and sighs, shoving off his duffel bag.

“Hey Omi, how was your day?” you say a bit hesitant, noticing his annoyed mood.

“Fine” He said dismissively, aiming to walk past you aiming for your bedroom.

“Oh well I have something amazing planned for ne-” you try to say following after him.

“Can we not do this right now Y/N,” he says again turning too look at you making you frown a bit, all you wanted to do is surprise him with your plans and have a day out with him. After noticing your sad look he finishes with “it’s just that Empress she’s bee-”

“I don’t want to hear about her.” you say bitterly folding your arms, Empress is the last person you want to hear about right now “God Omi can’t you just care about me? For once.”

“I do I-”

“You don’t anymore,” you say, with all the emotions and feelings you’ve been just supressing from a while coming up. You don’t even know how you got from point A to B with this conversation, but there's no stopping now. “I feel that, for a while now we haven’t been how we were before when we were just Y/N and Kiyoomi. Instead of how we are now. Just Y/N. Then Kiyoomi and Empress.”

After hearing his agents name, Kiyoomi’s name contorts to confusion “Empress? What does she have to do with anything?”

“How can you not see? For the past month all it’s been is ‘Empress this’ ‘Empress that,’” you complain “Having your super secret conversations with her, like god Kiyoomi can’t you see a problem with this?”

“It’s not like that Y/N, we’re just work partners” he says looking a bit annoyed “Just business.”

“Just business? So Kiyoomi, what were you talking about on the phone earlier” you say with your voice slight accusingly.

“Umm I, I can’t really say?” he says more of a question then a fully assured statement. You squint your eyes at him and scoff.

“What is going on with you Omi?” you say “are you cheating on me with her is that it?”

“No, no of course not Y/N! How could you even ask that?” he frowned at your question making your chest hurt, since deep down you knew he could never do that to you. Could he?

“Well tell me then, what were you talking about?” you ask again.

“I can’t say..” he finishes

“Well I can’t stay.” you say and his face goes back to confusion “Here. With you.”

“What do you mean Y/-”

“I need a break or something. I just can’t be here right now.” You start to rush and pack a big of things whilst Kiyoomi just stands there.

After you pack up your stuff, you look back and see Kiyoomi just there. Standing. You were upset, you kind of wanted him to rush after you and beg you not to leave, but he was just there. Standing. So you put the hand on the door and just before you leave you turn back and say “bye Sakusa, see you later?” to which you see him slightly nod at.

When the door shut, Kiyoomi starts to cry. After hearing you call him by his last name really twisted the knife that was already in his heart. You haven’t called him that since you were like 15. He knew what you wanted; he knew you wanted him to rush towards you and beg you not to leave, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. But what he could do is call the one person he only could call.

After a few rings, he hears “What do you need Saku?”

“She’s gone, she left.”

“What do you mean she’s gone, did you tell her?”

“No I didn’t tell her. And that’s the problem, Empress she think-”

“Saku, don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll handle it?”

“Don’t I always?”

He couldn’t argue with that, he just had to trust that Empress could sort it. “And also, don’t spend the week with your head up your ass crying, you’ve got a lot of grovelling to do kiddo.”

He nodded even though she couldn’t see him, as he knew that what just went down needed to be resolved, fast.

Meanwhile, on your end. You’re a mess. Sobbing all the time, tissues are your best friend, you’ve been waiting just waiting for a message or a call, or some form of communication. You just wanted to feel wanted by your boyfriend (can you even call him that now.)

You spent the rest of the week at your parents, immersing yourself in your work and doing ‘self care’ things, trying to forget all about the argument you and Kiyoomi had.

One day, you receive a letter, it wasn’t delivered by a mail man though. It was slid under your door, in a golden envelope sealed with a red hot wax seal. It read:

‘Dear Y/N,

My sweetheart, im sorry for how the week has been and I know a letter with only a fraction of how I feel won’t make up for how I acted that day. But im inviting you to join me at the Gardenia Botanical Gardens at 2 pm tommorow, to celebrate our 10 year anniversary.

I know there is a big chance, you may not want to see me and I understand but please. I love you, so so much, that words can’t even describe. But I need you to see me apologise and I need to make it up to you.

I hope to see you there, I’d wait the whole day for you. If you don’t show, I understand.

Sincerely, Sakusa Kiyoomi

P.S The theme is ‘summer hot day, tea with the queen’ - Atsumu’

You smile at the letter, but wonder if you should actually go or not. You did want to see him of course and get this all resolved, but you had your own plans for your anniversary which wouldn’t of been spoiled if he didn’t withhold his super-secret phone calls.

It took you hours to contemplate on what to do, but you decided to just sleep on it and see how you feel tomorrow. In the morning, you knew what you wanted to do. Of course, you had to go, at least to hear him out and see if he really did cheat on you or not. For all you know he’s inviting you to tell you that he’s going to run away with his agent and his secret kids they had together. You shook the negative thoughts from your head and just repeated your mantra ‘hope for the best and prepare for the worst.’

When you got there, you didn’t exactly know where he would be but he said ‘botanical gardens’ so of course you decided to just wander around there. It was nice walking around and just smelling the roses, and seeing the pretty scenery.

“Excuse me ma’am,” you hear someone say tugging on your leg “um that mister over there told me to give you these.” Looking down, you see a small boy who looked about the age of four with a crumpled up bunch of roses handing them to you.

“Oh thank you,” you say giving the kid a head pat “where is this ‘mister’ might I ask?”

“He’s over there!” The kid pointed behind him and you look to see Kiyoomi sitting under a white gazebo which is surrounded in your favorite flowers and the table is filled with food.

You walk over to your ‘boyfriend,’ with him not noticing your present yet. When you reach him you say “I think she stood you up buddy,” you joke making him jump abit startled.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, instantly beaming “You came you made it!” he stood up and pulled you into a hug, which you return before you remember why you came here in the first place.

“Oh I-” he says awkwardly

You decide to sit down pulling him down with you. You kind of sit there in uncomfortable silence, for a while until you both say.

“So I-”

“What are yo-”

You both laughed at your simultaneous comments, before Kiyoomi looks at you letting you speak. “What did you want to bring me here for?”

“I didn’t want, what happened last week to happen Y/N I-” he says looking a bit panicked “It wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

“Then how was it meant to go Sakusa.”

“Y/N, please don’t call me that, I know I made you upset but pleas-” he starts before getting distracted again “Y/N, I called you here to say a few things..”

“Them being.?” you ask a bit impatiently.

“I love you. I love you so much, you don’t even understand. Ever since I saw you at my volleyball game in our first year, in the stands just cheering us on. I knew that from that day, after I scored the winning point and our eyes met, that we were destined to be together. I just love you so much Y/N”

“Omi I don’t understand I-”

“Just let me finish please, It’s taken a while for me to say this. And trust me, there’s been so many times when I wanted to just say ‘hey Y/N let’s get married,’ but I couldn’t I was scared, and I wanted it to be perfect, so perfect. Because you deserve the world Y/N. That’s why I got Empress to help, I know that our conversations may seem odd, but I love you and she knows that she just wanted to help trust me. And she did, all this wouldn’t of been done if it wasn’t for her. But anyways Y/N what I waned to say was I love you and I love you and I-” he rambles on loosing track of his words.

But in the midst of his speech, you hear all that you needed and responded with the only way you can.

“Yes.” you say simply, with a growing smile on your face.

“Yes?” he repeats confused “What do you meann ye- ohhh" Kiyoomi blushes embarrased that after all that he ended up ruining the thought out proposal he wanted to give you with his ramble.

“Im sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to say it like that I wanted it to be perfect and I-”

You shut him up with a kiss making his eyes widen as he reciprocates it anyways.

“What did she say?” you hear someone shout from a far, and you look over to see the MSBY Jackals all standing there with shit eating grins on their faces.

“I said yes!” you yell back, to which they all cheer and rush towards you guys giving you both hugs and slapping Kiyoomi on the back.

As the boys celebrate Omi finnally do what he’s been planning for ages, you get approached by Empress who awkwardly walks up to you. “ I didn’t want to leave the impression that me and Saku were any sort of thing?” she says

“Yeah I think it was definitely a big misunderstanding, it’s just that Omi was never around and whenever he was he was just talking to you and you know how it is.”

“I definitely know, I’d feel the same way if my boyfriend did that to me.”

“Oooh boyfriend?” you ask her feeling nosey on her romantic life.

“Yeah boyfriend. You know iwaizumi hajime... the trainer?” she says smiling a bit when she said his name.

“The trainer! Nice.”

The rest of the night was fun and was basically an engagement party for you and Omi all you and friends just partying and celebrating yours and Omi’s love for each other. “Omi” you say getting his attention “Happy ten year anniversary babe”

“Happy anniversary, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

After the party you spend your months now planning for a big fat wedding, with the help of your new found bestie, Empress (who you obviously misjudged from the start.) You and Omi could never be happier, every thing was back to how it was before, maybe even better. And you definitely spent at least two Saturdays a month going out for picnics and it was now a tradition in your relationship, so in the end you did get your ‘aesthetic picnic date.’

AN: WHAT DID U GUYS THINK??

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyuu fluff #sakusa x you #sakusa headcanons #haikyu angst #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #sakusa oneshot #haikyu sakusa #signedwithane😌

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egoludes · 3 years

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satisfaction guaranteed.

summary: your super soldiers hear there’s a new contender in the bedroom; they intend to learn all about it.

pairing: stucky x reader.

notes: ok, i’ll admit it - this is so outrageously self-indulgent and fully inspired by a recent, um, purchase. i was hoping to get it out in time for valentine’s day, but then work kicked my ass - so consider it a delayed love letter to y’all heh. my apologies in advance to the manufacturers of the sex toy featured here; please don’t sue me? borders from deathlyrph!

warnings: nsfw / 18+, threesome, sex toy, implied & light overstimulation

He doesn’t mean to listen in - scout’s honor.

There just isn’t much that Bucky’s super soldier hearing misses and the raving of some very giddy --- and very drunk --- Avengers is nowhere near that list. He’s actually pleased to hear the way you, Natasha, and Wanda are carrying on when he rounds the corner. Missions have been taking a toll lately, keeping everyone on the team on edge and up late. You, in particular, have been distant, putting on a facade that never quite reaches your eyes, and he and Steve have been on wit’s end trying to perk you up.

The ladies, it seems, have it all figured out. You’re laughing freely for the first time in weeks, and Bucky’s grateful that no one (particularly Sam) can see the way the sound makes him utterly lovesick. His adoration keeps him still a few seconds longer, basking in how free you seem, but he doesn’t intend to stay much past that. In fact, he’s a half-step into leaving when he hears it:

“So, wait -- have you tried it yet? The Satisfyer?”

Confusion brings him to a full stop. Satisfyer?

That feeling only grows, knitting his eyebrows, when you’re the one to answer with an emphatic, and damn near dreamy “Yes.”

Bucky’s an intelligent man and the name alone is a pretty effective context clue. Still, he doesn’t really put it together until Wanda squeals and Nat (who he can see in his mind’s eye, clear as day, leaning into you with that cheeky smirk) pushes you for more.

“It’s kind of...overwhelming,” you continue, pausing to refill your glass, “but in the best way. Like in a ‘How did I ever masturbate before this’ kind of way. My knees literally buckled when I got up after. Can you believe that? Buckled! I was fuckin’ woozy! ” He can tell you’re animated just by the way your volume starts to rise and whatever you’re doing must be endearing because even Natasha is chuckling.

Bucky still loves it, don’t get him wrong. In fact, he adores you excited like this, especially after all the darkness lately. But, there’s something genuinely puzzling about so much excitement around a sex toy. He hadn’t even known you’d bought something new. When had you tried it? Where were he and Steve?

His thoughts start to swirl, intrigue and curiosity mounting in a wave that he pushes past with a step, then another, as he reminds himself that he has somewhere to be.

No chance he’ll be forgetting about this, though.

Steve hears about it from Bucky.

Secondhand stories can be tricky; full of exaggerations and misunderstanding. But, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe it. He just doesn’t comprehend the implications of it until he experiences it for himself.

That happens on a Saturday afternoon.

You’d been tense in training, taking hits you’ve dodged a thousand times and fumbling moves you’ve done twice that. A bad bout typically doesn’t do you in, but Steve can tell by the way your attacks grow more and more stilted, that you’re overextending just to make blows meet.

It gets so bad that he breaks one of his few cardinal rules -- never pulling rank with you or Bucky outside of missions -- to get you out of the spar, and your frustration with it is as clear as the exhaustion that sags your limbs. You’re out the door before he can apologize, or explain.

An hour later, he’s showered and changed, seeking you out in your corner of the compound with peace offerings at the ready. This time, they come in the form of your favorite snack and a promise to spar with you himself the next time you’re scheduled - no holds barred.

But, when you pull open the door at his knock, he’s surprised to see that he may not need them.

You’re completely...sated. The tension you’d had in your shoulders when you left the gym is nowhere to be found and in its place is a sheen of satisfaction. It’s all over you: in a dopey smile, lidded eyes, and the faint whiff of your cunt he gets when he leans into you.

In an instant, he puts two and two together, and Steve feels his body warm at the realization that you’ve just finished touching yourself. And not just that: it had been so good that your entire mood’s flipped and you’re beaming at him, no walls or reservations.

He makes his apology all the same, though, and your smile widens as you reach for him and the snack in a tease: “Better not back out on that fight, Captain.”

He grins back, pleased you’re feeling better, but making a mental note to speak to Bucky as soon as you let him go.

I think we need to check out this ‘Satisfyer’.

They ask you about it on Valentine’s Day.

You’re running on the high of a beautiful evening: dinner in DUMBO and drinks in Brooklyn Heights. The latter -- a couple cocktails for you, white wine for your boys -- finds you buzzing as you let them into your room back at the compound. You feel eyes on your hips from behind, heavy gazes that sear the curves, and you sway pointedly, smiling at the sharp breaths that follow.

You know where the night is going ---- know the way a good date makes them handsy. So the attention is no surprise. Neither is the cool press of metal to your back and the kiss to that spot under your ear. “Bed, pretty girl,” Bucky drawls against your skin, intent pressing -- and growing -- against your hip as he settles against you.

Steve rounds you from the other side, not touching but so close you can feel the rise of heat from his body. You look up just in time to catch him watching you back, blue eyes darkening with each step into your bedroom.

Your dress is easy work, pooling at your ankles with a few good pulls, But, Steve and Bucky take their time with everything else. You’re in something special, after all --- pretty lace and dewey colors that deserve an extra look, an extra touch. They’re on you the moment it’s revealed to them, thumbing the fabric with murmured praise through the lips all over your skin.

The daze it sets follows you all the way to the mattress where you lay back against Steve’s chest (still clothed, to your chagrin) with his arms settled around you. His hands end up bracing your thighs, naturally at first, then deliberately as Bucky starts to kiss trails up and over your calf. With the latest string of missions, you can’t remember the last time you had their mouths on you and the anticipation as Bucky’s creeps closer is almost crippling. Your body tenses with each point of contact, eyes lidding as they watch him rise, inch by tortuous inch.

“Sweetheart.” Steve’s voice pulls you out of your focus with a rumble you can feel in your back. “We wanna try something new with you tonight.” You turn just enough to watch him, answering with a hum to urge him on. “Can you tell Buck,” he continues, dipping to run his nose along yours. You feel tiny when he bears down on you like this, and he can see the way it affects you just in the flutter of your lashes. “--where you keep your ‘Satisfyer’?”

What?

In a split second, you’re sobered up, no hint of the lust or buzz that’d been following you for most of the night. Bringing toys to bed isn’t new by any means, but they have never, ever referred to one by name like that. Nor requested it specifically. It’s so startling that you don’t know what to say for a moment, mind utterly blank until you feel Bucky’s hand tighten around your thigh to bring you back. “You -- my what?”

“Satisfyer,” Steve echoes, hand resting on your tummy. From below, you can feel Bucky’s eyes burning into the side of your face, expectant. “Buck’s heard you mention it before, and we’d like to know what all the fuss is about. ---- If you’re willing, that is.”

You look back and forth between them, mouth gaping for a second before you swallow your shock down whole. Two super soldiers can be a lot to manage on their own -- adding a toy that’s knocked you on your ass a few times over now seems like a very dangerous game. But, you can feel Steve hardening against your back and can’t deny the slick that’s seeping through your panties at the thought alone. So you nod, lip pulled between your teeth, and direct Bucky to the left side of your bottom drawer.

When he’s back between your legs, it’s with the rose gold toy in hand. The mere sight of it makes you clench; something he doesn’t miss when he’s that close to your core. “Someone’s excited,” Bucky muses, brow arching before his gaze returns to his hand. The Satisfyer is unlike any toy he’s ever seen, shaped more like some alien gadget than a vibrator, and no amount of Google sleuthing could’ve prepared him for what it feels like in person. The smoothness of it in his hand, the unique curves along his palm. You bite back a giggle at how intently he inspects it, turning it over this way and that to get used to its weight.

“Hmm.. that’s definitely different,” Steve chimes in, as focused on the toy as Bucky is. It isn’t hard to work out how it’s used from the design alone, but what they’re still itching to know is what it does. How it unravels you so well, until your knees buckle even. And it doesn’t take long for that anticipation to trump their curiosity and you’re brought back to the moment when Steve ducks his head to your shoulder, pressing kisses to the skin there as he smooths hands down your inner thighs. He draws his palms back and forth a few times until they suddenly still, and he’s holding your legs -- and you -- wide open. “How about we give it a go, pal?”

Bucky says nothing in return, but he probably doesn’t have to. The toy clicking to life is enough, a rhythm that fills the room with anticipation. Your tummy tightens at the sound -- another reaction neither man misses -- and the tension stays put, coiled tight until the Satisfyer closes over your clit.

The first pulse knocks air out of you that you hadn’t realized you were holding. The ones that follow unfurl you, melting your anticipation in favor of a soft, thrumming pleasure that coats you head to toe. It’s odd, having someone else use it on you, but in a good way. The best way.

You surrender to it, relaxing into Steve’s hold as Bucky holds you open with two fingers. So far, that’s no different than normal --- you’re always this pliant for them, putty beneath their fingers once they get to work. But, tonight, they’re greedy. Tonight, they want more from you; want whatever this toy has been able to draw out in their absence.

Bucky kicks things up a notch, turning the pulse up two speeds. The change is subtle to them, clicks coming just a smidgen faster and louder. For you, it seems to make all the difference. Immediately, you react, back arching up from its place against Steve’s chest with a sound that makes the Captain purr behind you.

“Mm...must feel good,” he notes, a hand gliding along your tummy until he can palm your breast. “Can you tell us, sweetheart?” He punctuates the question with fingers around your nipple, tweaking lightly.

Your lips part, but no words follow; not at first. It’s like your body and mind are disconnected, static in the places where they usually go together. The fuzziness is welcome, but hard to speak through, and it’s all you can do just to whine when Steve gives your nipple an urgent pinch. Bucky joins in with a cool finger pressing at your cunt, the light whirring from his arm giving you something concrete enough to focus on. ‘S good,” you finally pant, twisting to tuck your head into Steve, “so good.”

Bucky huffs out a chuckle and your entire body goes tight; with his face so close, you can feel every breath. “That mean you’re gonna let us finish you up, just like this?”

It’s a rhetorical question --- has to be, the way he presses the toy tighter to your clit. Still, you answer with an eager nod, legs widening some as if to give him the go ahead. “Please, Buck, ‘m close already, it -- right there, I-I’ll--” Your pleas are pretty, a desperate melody, and they appease every base instinct Bucky has. He’d wanted to keep you on edge a little longer to explore the toy more, but he’s a sucker for his girl; always has been. You win him over without even trying.

Steve isn’t far behind, cock leaking in his dress pants seeing you so desperate. He hasn’t gotten his hand on the toy yet, but even he seems to feel its effect. The hand that isn’t cupping your breast spreads over your tummy, delighting in the way the flesh underneath tightens and spreads. You’re certainly close --- he knows your body as well as you do. And the thought of it makes him hungry, makes him press teeth into the skin behind your ear as he urges you on: “Go on, honey -- make a mess for us.”

Your peak comes fast after that, punching you in the gut with its intensity. The first wave of orgasm runs right through you, leaving a tremble in its wake, and your hips twist instinctively to escape the toy. Bucky, however, isn’t so forgiving, metal curling around your hip in a vice. Ride it out, he seems to say with a dark, lidded glance from between your legs.

You whimper in response, head tipping back against Steve’s chest as you fumble for purchase in the warmth of Bucky’s free hand.

Something tells you this will be a long night.

Forty minutes later, you can’t see straight.

Your first orgasm had been gradual, as tentative as the men watching this new toy work you. But, after that, it’s like a flip switches in Bucky and Steve, making them greedy for as many more as they can get.

The second one isn’t long after the first. Bucky turns the Satisfyer up to the highest setting, the other end of the spectrum that you hadn’t even gotten a chance to try on your own yet. The first contact lights fire through your sensitive body and you’re on the brink in just minutes. Toes stretching and curling into the sheets by Bucky’s hips, you’re practically squirming with need and it only takes one good twist of the toy for you to crumble all over again. They give you a break after that, but most of it is spent kissing you too long for you to catch your breath.

You don’t mind that too much, though.

The third orgasm is Steve’s fault. Ever the strategist, he starts thinking through the ways they can play with frequency and angle to make you cum again. You don’t notice it in your foggy comedown, but he’s fished his phone out and flicked through to a page he’s looked over more times that he cares to admit. And when Bucky settles between your legs to get you going again, he finally speaks up. “Buck, I found this review online---” Both you and Bucky turn to him, curiosity in the way you gape, but he’s making a face back that’s loud and clear: ‘do not ask’. “---that said they were able to cum in a couple minutes with this alone. Had some interestin’ suggestions about how, too.” He grins around a Brooklyn drawl, that handsome face stirring something in you when it looks so devious. “You think we can get our girl finished faster than that?”

They pull it off -- embarrassingly easily at that -- and it’s in the pale of that third climax that they finally, finally press inside you.

Your cunt is soaked, supple and warm around Steve as he sits you down over his cock. After so much play, the stretch is nothing, a pleasant burn in the pit of your belly that makes your eyes flutter closed.

“Tell us how you feel,” Steve asks for the second time that night, his voice strained around the effort to keep from fucking you. Even if you’re taking him well -- easier than ever before, in fact -- he’s cautious not to lose his head, no matter how much he wants to.

No matter how much the urge to plow you into your mattress dizzies him.

Your eyes are still closed when you respond, tongue over your dry lips as you part them with a needy sound. “S-Still good…,” you sigh, mind swimming. You want to move, start to move in a mindless search for some friction. But, the rocking doesn’t last long, stuttering to a stop when you hear the toy click to life and try to focus through the haze of your pleasure with eyes darting for answers.

You find them in the smug grin on Bucky’s face as he palms the Satisfyer in one hand and works his cock out of his pants with the other. “What,” he purrs, voice lilted in a taunt, “you didn’t think we were done with this yet, did you?”

Oh yeah --- this’ll definitely be a long night.

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #tags will come after work!

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harrysmimi · 2 years

Text

Lovely

Chapter 18: Déjà Vu

Series Master list

More of my work

Hebe's third birthday is in three months.

YN was busy with new movie of her's, just a month more and she's done so she can plan the special day for her baby.

Mean while Harry has been free, he just goes to studio on Saturdays when YN's not working. Rest of the week he have Hebe all to himself. It was a lot harder to be a single parent taking care of a toddler who now seems to love to throw tantrums around. But he wouldn't trade is for anything, he can get kicked in face every time she decides she doesn't want to sleep in her own room, he'd live with a never ending back pain. He did took Hebe out on their little dates. She had as much fun as she did with her Mummy if not more. Harry have his house now filled with toys and games for her, and have a separate room for her like she have at her Mummy's.

YN has been very nice to him lately, mainly because he is proving himself to be a fit parent for Hebe. He doesn't even remember the last time he went out with his friends to a club or to a party, he is just enjoying his time so much with his little princess. He can now finally have fifty percent of her custody and have his name on all her legal form and stuff as her father. He doesn't need all of that, she calls him Dadda and that's enough for him, it's just all formalities.

YN had made sure every single thing mentioned in her custody papers will mot go against her well being. YN can sue Harry if Hebe's pictures went out to media without her consent or knowledge, that includes fan encounters and sneaky Paparazzi. Which he can really take care of really, he have the means and money to take his daughter's pictures off of the internet with his PR team. He is surprised word haven't gone out yet of him having a three year old, who loves to be loud and run around like crazy.

Currently Hebe is riding her new tricycle around the living whilst Harry is trying to check his emails, dragging her noisy toy around with her bike. It is annoying at times but he can get through it, she's been on this earth for just almost three years, she's very small.

"Dadda come pway wif me!" She told him as she turned her bike and went to circle behind the sofa.

"Dadda is trying to work baby, give me some time yeah?" He tried to bargain, "what about you take Binky on a little ride?" He stopped her and put her stuffed fox in the basket in front of her tricycle.

"'kay." She said. She is usually playing with her friends Alvin and Macy but they're out on their Vacations with their respective parents. The little girl has been very bored. She stopped her tricycle in front on her dad. "Dadda we- we go see Mummy? Pwease?"

YN has been working like a maniac from past three days, she haven't seen Hebe since yesterday. Hebe spent her night at her dad's. Harry felt bad for his baby and worried for YN, she is going to fall sick or something.

"We can facetime her, what do you say?" Harry offered, he doesn't not want to take her to sets in case there are any paparazzi lurking around, though he have a security pass incase Hebe needs her Mummy and he have to take her to see her mum. He doesn't want to get sued just weeks before he have to go to court and talk to judge himself before he can be called Hebe's father legally. No, he doesn't want that.

"No, I wan' go to Mummy!" She looked at him with puppy dog eyes, he can burn down the entire world if she asks him to with those eyes. She reminded him of YN when she asked him to stay back a few times from going to studio with those same puppy dog eyes, and he did stayed back those times. Hebe just have his looks but she like her Mummy entirely.

"I will ask her okay, if she says yes, we can go." He told her.

"Mhmm!" She got off her bike and went to sit on his lap as he called her Mum for her. YN did not answer and the call for disconnected but she called back immediately, Harry pressed on the answer button.

"Mummy!" Hebe chirped.

"Hi princess!" YN cooed from the other side of the phone, "what are you doing now?"

"Was pwaying on my tricycle." She told her Mummy, "Dadda made spayetti and we went to beach!"

"Oh looks like you had fun." YN sounded excited for her.

"Mumma can you come back?" She asked. The line went dead for a solid two seconds, Harry could tell YN is feeling bad for leaving Hebe alone.

"I am coming back home in some time, I am sorry, Mummy is not there. But we'll have a loads of fun when I'm home okay?" YN tried to bargain. She was being called to take the shot from behind she asked her person to give her a moment politely.

"No, I wan' Mummy!" Hebe whined, "Mummy!"

"I know, I know, please don't cry. I will come back home to you." YN told her.

"Now!" Hebe started throwing her tantrum. "I wan' Mummy now!"

Harry did not know what to do, he head YN let out a sigh before she spoke again, "Bebe, hey, princess are you listening to me?"

"Mhmm!" Hebe calmed down for a moment.

"Baby I know you're feeling big emotions right now but it's okay, yeah? I miss you too, but you know what? I'll be back home and we can watch Sofia how does that sound?" YN tried to bargain again.

"Fun." Hebe answer with a grumpy undertone.

"Doesn't it?" YN said enthusiastically, "so will you wait for me for a little longer? You can go out to park with your Dadda if he can take you, but remember to be a good girl, yeah? Then I can take you with me tomorrow."

Hebe looked at her dad immediately, "yeah, that sounds fun." Harry agreed.

"Yay!" Hebe celebrated.

"I'll see you in some time yeah? I love you Bebe." YN said to Hebe.

"I love you Mummy." Hebe reciprocated, leaning behind on her dad's chest like he's a sofa. He loves it when she's cuddly.

"What about we go get stuff to make a cake?" Harry suggested after her Mum hung up the call.

"Yes!" Hebe agreed. "We gon' surpwised Mummy!"

"We can do that." Harry agreed.

Harry and Hebe went to the grocery store to get some stuff to make brownies, it was Hebe's suggestion. He had her sat in the cart as he handed her stuff to put in the cart herself.

"No, that one!" Hebe whined at her dad picking out a smaller packed of Chocolate chips.

"Why not this one? Look it have a lot more in this one as compare to this." He tried to fool her and it worked, he feels bad for tricking his two year old, but it better than having food wasted or her having a sugar crash. At the check out counter, Hebe seemed intrigued by the beeping sounds of the checkout machine. She read out the total on the monitor.

"Good job!" Harry held up his hand for a highfive, she slapped her small hand against his giggling, "you are very smart huh! Who taught you numbers?"

"Mummy!" Hebe told him, as she is growing up her speech is becoming more clear and easier to understand, or he have just gotten accustom to it? He doesn't know but she is growing up way too fast for his liking. She knows all the ABCs and she showed it off singing the alphabets to her dad as he put away the stuff in the bags.

"You are so talented! Good job princess." Harry kissed her forehead, "let's go back home now." He took them both out and kept the cart where it was supposed to be left. Hebe didn't wanted to walk so he carried to her to the car with a bag full of goodies.

"We parked a little too far, didn't we?" Harry sighed. Hebe was busy doing her own thing, she took off the Minnie mouse ears she was wearing and put it on her dad's head making him giggle, "thank you."

"Your welcome." She chuckled finding him funny with her Minnie mouse ears on. Harry joined her laughing booping her nose with his he placed a small kiss on the corner of her mouth.

"You want to hold this?" He asked taking off the Minnie mouse ears after he put her in her car seat. Hebe took her headband back and put it back on her head. He buckled her up nicely, "I love you."

"Love you Dadda." She smiled sweetly. Harry patted the top of her head as he got into drivers seat and drove back home.

Hebe and Harry made brownies together and by the time the pan was in oven with the delicious brownie mix, YN was back. Hebe ran to the door before her dad and opened the door.

"Be careful—" Harry stopped seeing Hebe being reunited with her Mum.

"Mummy!" Hebe exclaimed, jumping up in her Mummy's arms. YN scooped her up in a bear hug, Hebe clung onto her Mummy wrapping legs around her middle and arms around her neck.

"Hi." YN cooed to her daughter, "I missed you."

"Missed you Mummy!" She reciprocated.

"Want to go home now?" YN asked.

"No, me an' Dadda made bownies fo' you!" Hebe told her Mummy.

"Did you?" YN mused earning a living humm from her, "did you had fun?"

"Lots!" Hebe grinned.

"Come in." Harry spoke, YN walked in with Hebe still clinging onto her, "you look tired, want some tea?"

"No it's fine thank you." YN declined politely, "not that tired."

"Mhmm, can see that." Harry nodded.

Hebe got her brownies just before she went back to her Mum's. Harry was left alone. He hated how empty his house felt after Hebe is gone, it becomes awfully silent. He picked up all the toys she have scattered around the around to pass his time till dinner, he was going to meet his friend Niall for dinner. He would take Hebe with him if YN wouldn't have showed up.

......................................................................

It was a Sunday.

YN was home, Hebe was at her Aunty Sam's house for a play day. YN got the day to herself, she spent the day reading up news and catching up on what is going on in the world, reading up new reviews on her movies. She went through her Instagram feed and then lastly on Twitter, where she saw a huge ass mess.

Harry's name was trending, with million articles published, it was a shit show. Hebe's face was all over the internet, it was from yesterday when both of them went to grocery store. There was a video going around of Harry walking to his car with Hebe. It was awfully and steady and clear, like it was taken by Paparazzi and not a sneaky fan or something.

But most importantly her daughter's face was all over the internet, and YN did not felt good about it. There are so many reasons she wanted her daughter to be away from the internet, there are thousands of creeps on there. What if Hebe wants to have a normal life out of media when she grows up? And many more reasons like these.

The first thing YN did was contacted her PR manager, Emily, and asked her to have those pictures and videos taken down and find out who took those pictures. She was pissed at Harry, he is usually finding cameras everywhere, even the sneaky ones why couldn't he find this one?

She knew it he was home, so she went over to his. Rung his bell furiously banging onto his door, he looked so worried when he opened the door.

"How did you not know there were paparazzi out there after you yesterday?" Was the first thing she asked him, walking forward he stepped back intimidated by her.

"What? What are you talking about?" He is so clueless.

"You are not aware of your own shit show? Hebe's face is all ovee the internet!" She exclaimed.

"What?"

"Yes! How did you not know about this?" She have turned red in anger.

"I- I didn't know." He said. YN showed him the video.

"I want these taken down within twelve hours. A statement released from you asking your fans to delete my daughter's video." She told him, "have your PR team involved in it or DM every single of your fan account, I don't care, I want these taken down, along with all the articles!"

"Why are you so furious on me? I had no idea!" He defended himself.

"How did you not have any idea? Don't you get emails about your PR stuff? How do you allow people to publish your pictures without you consent?" She was so furious she almost banged her phone on the floor. "You are going to have these taken. This have happened before and I don't want this happening again!" She told him, trying to calm herself down, at least she does not want to take all her anger out on him for no reason. Harry took a careful towards her.

"Have a seat." He told her calmly.

"I am not here to sit. Call your Manager."

"YN, please listen to me. For this once, please?" He grabbed her hand guided her to the sofa. He made a quick run to kitchen and got her a glass of water, called his PR manager in front of her to have those pictures and videos taken down. That alone seemed to calm YN down, she was talking to her own PR manager, apparently she got to know which paparazzi got those pictures and videos. YN was adamant to sue the firm and at the person who took pictures of her daughter.

"It's your PR team who approved of those articles to be published!" YN said as she hung up her call.

"I am sorry, I did not had any idea I swear." Harry knew that well, he just got off with his PR manager.

"You will need to have the idea. You are father you have to take up the responsibility ensure her privacy!" YN told him.

"How are you going to keep her a secret? You're going to get paped someday too! I am sorry, I didn't know!" Harry got frustrated.

"I will quite my job in Hollywood and everything, move to a different country if that means Hebe has all her privacy which she deserves." She told him, "will you do that for her? You need to know that she should be your first priority if you want to be around her. She is just a child for gods sake, you can't get frustrated at me for asking for what is good for my daughter."

Silence took over the place, YN sat down on the sofa again feeling anger pumping through her veins. She can't just take out all her anger on him.

"Look, YN, I did not had any idea about this. Her privacy is my top priority." Harry explained himself watching YN sat there silently staring at the floor. She just worries too much for her daughter some times.

"I- I know, I am sorry I shouldn't have barged into your house like this." She sniffled, "I just worry too much about her some times. I just overreacted."

"No, you didn't. You have all the right to be mad at me, I didn't know how I was being careless yesterday not looking around." He assured her.

"It still isn't right what I did." She shook her head, "just please have those videos and pictures taken down."

She looked so vulnerable, she have been going back and forth between calling her Manager and her PR manager for hours before she came to Harry's. He does not deserve to have her anger taken out on him, no one does.

"Hey, you alright?" Harry cooed.

"I don't know, I'm sorry. I'll leave now." YN got up to leave.

"It's okay, you can talk to me if you want." He offered, "don't have to be sorry."

"I just— you know people online are very mean, this happened before, I did everything I can to get her pictures off of internet after that," she shared, "it scared me so much, it happened again. It just makes me doubt myself as her mother."

"I am sorry you had to go through all of that," Harry cooed, "we're doing everything we can right? We'll get her off of internet, don't worry about it. And you don't have to doubt yourself, it wasn't your fault." She sniffled, nodding her head.

"Have to go to court tomorrow, show up on time." YN told him, pulling herself together.

"Yeah." He nodded surprised she is ready to have him around their daughter.

"I am still expecting the statement." She told him making her way to the door.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"Back home...?"

"Please stay we can have tea or coffee." He requested, "just want to talk about Hebe, if you're free."

"Okay." She agreed because he mentioned Hebe. Harry made tea for both of them and they sat down on the sofa.

"Are you sure it is going to be a good idea for have weekly schedule with her?" He enquired, "she still haven't gotten used to being away from you for more than twelve hours."

"She will get used to it." YN assured him, "and when you're on tour we'll just work around it."

"We'll talk about that when it's time, I'm not touring any time soon." He told her, "I just don't like seeing her missing you, she definitely needs you more than me. I get it, I haven't been around her since the very start."

"Give her some time to accustom herself to this new normal. She'll be fine." YN assured him again.

"You sure?"

"Hundred percent!" She smiled.

"Where is Hebe now?"

"She is at her Aunty's house with her friends." YN said sipping on her tea.

"Honestly, how do you do it? My back still hurts from yesterday's afternoon nap being kicked by her." Harry brought it up finally.

"I don't know what you're talking about." YN shrugged, she knows very well what he was talking about. She have just gotten used to it, and Hebe honestly doesn't kick that much in her sleep.

"Oh quit it, you know very well what I'm talking about!" He shook his head.

"It's okay, she's very little." YN scoffed.

"Thank you." He smiled at her, gaze tender as his irises moved looking into her eyes, "thank you for letting her borrow your womb, for being the best mum, and for making me a father. I know I was being a dick and then I accidentally ghosted you, I can never apologise enough for it. But thank you for everything."

"It's okay. She is mine too." YN shrugged.

"Of course she is." Harry chuckled.

"I have to be on sets tomorrow till late, if you can take in Hebe. Or I'll just take her with me." YN said.

"Of course I can take her, I love to spend time with her!" Harry agreed in a heartbeat.

"Thank you." YN nodded. It was awkward. She decided to take her empty cup in kitchen and then leave to go get Hebe. She did not realise Harry followed her there, she gasped, "you need to stop scaring me!"

"You need to look around you if you don't want to be scared." He countered walking past her to keep his cup in the sink.

"I have to go get Hebe now. See you tomorrow." She said changing the topic. With a nod to his head he walked her to the door. YN got the sense of déjà vu as she forgot her phone on the coffee table.

She stopped on her tracks abruptly, "what happened?" Harry asked.

"I forgot my phone." She chirped taking a step ahead and turning around just to find him a little too close. She looked straight ahead of her, her eye level hitting to the neckline of his white t-shirt he wore, awkwardly she glanced up at him.

"Oh," he moved maybe an inch back from her.

"Yeah, let me go get it. Move out of the way." YN told him, at last she moved him aside to make her way back through the hallway to the living room. Grabbed her phone and headed back to the door.

"You know maybe you can stay, you're going to ruin that poor girl's day. She's must having the time of her life with best friends and Aunty." Harry told her, looking at her through hooded eyes. "We can watch a movie or something."

"That girl is your daughter too. And it is nap time if you care to check things around you." She told him, "I still haven't forgiven you for not trusting me so don't talk to me like we're a married couple." With that she opened the door and stepped out.

And he fucked up again...

"I just want to hang out with you alone okay? I am sorry for trying to fix this if you've got your walls built up high." He told her, disappointment dripping down his words.

"Nine am, sharp. At the court, tomorrow." She reminded him one last time before she disappeared taking a left from the front gate of his house.

"You're not Natasha Romanoff! Acting like her..." He said in a tone of a angery kid trying to anger his enemy at school. He just earned a faintly audible scoff from her from distance. He shut the door and went in.

......................................................................

By the next day, the huge mess was cleaned up. All the articles were taken down. Harry's statement made a huge buzz in the media. Everyone was surprised and shocked how he was able to keep his daughter a secret for three years. Well, he met his daughter not even seven months ago, she was a secret to him too. His fans were nice enough to take down the posts they have made and are making sure to report any other they see, he have a very dedicated fanbase and he is grateful for that. No one is believing Hebe is his daughter, but they're nice enough to be respecting a toddler's privacy.

Harry showed up at the court on time. Hebe had to present there but she wasn't in the courtroom. Harry had to sign away a few papers of her custody, with similar claus on the consent agreement he signed for six months before. YN wasn't taking a chance with Hebe. She seems to trust him enough with their daughter but it's his Management and PR team she doesn't trust whom she have bounded in agreement. It felt like he was signing away rights to some deadly virus transmitted people who he seemed to have made himself in a laboratory somewhere uncharted. Well, he can and will do anything for his daughter, her mum's concerns are not bad but a little extreme, he would say. But again, he couldn't protect his daughter just two days ago from being caught by Paparazzi. Lastly, they got to leave without having Hebe actually come to the courtroom. Everything went silently and smoothly.

The rest of the day with Hebe went as usual for Harry. He enjoyed every minute he spent with her, he even facetimed his mum and sister so they can talk to Hebe. He made some dinner for both of them. Hebe was covered in sand from playing at the beach, and now also in food from dinner. He gave her a quick bath and put her into her PJs and put her off to bed, and tucked her in nicely, and made sure to place mandatory kisses on her forehead and chubby cheeks. He closed the door her room silently, as his phone went off with a long ding. It was a text from YN asking to take Hebe back, she asked to see her after he told her that the little princess is already asleep. He of course agreed to it as she has seemed to gotten her separations anxiety from Hebe under control. He opened the door for her quickly.

"Did she had her dinner?" Was rhe first thing she asked.

"Yes she did." Harry nodded as he walked YN to Hebe's room.

"Did she had her glass of milk?"

"She did, she had a bath, changed her into her Spiderman PJs, had her brush her teeth, watched half an episode of Sofia the first, and then she went to bed." He answered all of her follow up questions he saw coming.

"Good, good!" YN nodded. She carefully opened the door to her room quietly, found her all tucked in warm and cosy in her bed cuddling Binky the fox. Her hair were braided to keep out of her face. YN really admired her sleeping, she's calmest when she's asleep. She placed a kiss on her girl's forehead and pushed her baby hairs out of her pretty face. Hebe took in a deep breath of relief as if it was bothering her, and she looked to be in deep sleep. YN chuckled softly watching her little girl smile in her sleep, she wonders what she dreams about. She went out and closed the door silently to her room. He found Harry standing there waiting for her.

"I— can I talk to you for a moment?" YN asked.

"Of course." He perked up, she never initiates a talk with him except if it's related to Hebe.

"We, we should go downstairs, so we don't disturb her." YN suggested.

"Yeah." Harry agreed, once downstairs he spoke again, "have a seat."

"No, I, I really don't have that much time. I—" her voice sounded as she choked on her words, "I, I got a call from- uhhh... from my cousin back from India. My, my Papa passed away an hour ago. I have to go back to attend the funeral."

Harry's heart sunk to his stomach at the news, he waited for her to finish whatever she have to say, "I, I will have to stay there for three days, so ummm... I'll be gone for a week. I'll leave Hebe here with you if you can have her for a week maybe?"

YN doesn't want to stress out a two year old for a week long trip to India to attend her Grandfather's funeral.

"I, I— of course I can have ber for a week." He agreed earning a nod from her, "YN, are you—oh come here!" He sighed pulling her into a warm embrace as she started sobbing, she wrapped her arms around his torso like her life depends on him. Harry's hand ran up and down her back in order to comfort her, kisses were placed on top of her head.

"I am sorry, but I thought you had all ties cut off with him." Harry squeezed her once, continuing the motion of his hand on her back.

"He is still my dad, doesn't matter if he thought I am not his daughter." YN sobbed.

"Shushhh... It's okay, I am sorry lovie." He placed another kiss on her temple, "you want me to come with you?" He offered, she pulled apart from hug still sniffling as tears still keep streaming down her eyes.

"No, it's okay, my family still hates me that's why I'm leaving Hebe here. Please just— don't leave her alone." She requested, "if, if you have work you can leave her Samantha's or Camryn's, I have talked to them both already."

"Don't worry about her, yeah?" His hands carefully made their way to her face wiping off her tears.

"I need to go pack, but I'll come annd see her once she's up before I go." YN said.

"Yeah." He nodded, she grabbed her purse she left on this sofa, "hey YN?"

"Hmm?" She turned around to look at him.

"Everything is going to be okay, yeah? I need you to travel safely." He told her.

"I, I will. Thank you." She nodded.

......................................................................

YN was back home in four days, she could not be away from Hebe for that long herself. Plus, she was humiliated by even trying to attend her own dad's funeral by her family, at least she got to see her dad one last time. She left immediately after.

Harry was worried freak the entire time, he himself went to pick her up at LAX with Hebe. She was very happy to see her Mummy clinging onto her like a monkey that she is, but an adorable monkey.

"Thank you so much Harry." YN said dragging her suitcase, Harry was quick to take it from her.

"Anytime lovely. Let's go now." Harry put her suitcase in the boot as YN strapped Hebe up in her car seat. The whole car ride back home Hebe was telling her Mummy how much fun she had with her Dadda. How they made lunch at home for today, Hebe dragged her Mummy with her to her dad's house so they can eat the food she made with him. Well, putting her tiny fist full of ingredients in the pan was her cooking as she sat on the counter.

YN was tired and jet lagged but Hebe was full of energy and wanted to play. She was being her usual self riding her tricycle around the living room, she had her Mum stay with her until she is done playing. She almost ran over her dad's feet who was coming out of kitchen washing the dishes.

"Be careful princess." He held onto her bike stopping her.

"Sowwy Dadda!" Hebe smiled cheekily as she turned her bike and got to what she was doing before.

"It's okay..." He chuckled watching her enjoy, she's been obsessed with her tricycle. Just took her one day to learn from her mum after Harry bought the bike, she isn't bored of it yet. Enjoys to ride around the living room as she is not allowed to take on the pavement in front of their house yet, she still needs some practice. And Harry have to get his stamina up to run after her up and down the pavement.

"Do you maybe want to wear your helmet princess?" Harry suggested.

"No." Hebe squealed circling around the sofa dragging the 'o' sound making YN laugh.

"You should ask her to wear a helmet," Harry shook his head in disbelief, "and not laugh."

"It's okay she'll be fine." YN assured her, it's the brown parent in her, she learned to ride her bicycle without any safety gears when she was five on her own, Hebe at least have her parents.

"How is your family doing?" Harry enquired.

"Amazing. Not phased at all." YN said rolling her eyes.

"What about your grandparents?"

"You don't know, both of them passed last year?" YN asked, it was all over the media when she had to stop her movie production for a week.

"Oh, I am sorry, I didn't know." He looked down after glancing at her once.

"It's fine." She sighed.

"Oof!" Hebe gasped as she crashed into side of the love seat, she didn't fall just had a sudden stop.

"You alright?" Harry rushed towards. Hebe started laughing as she got off her tricycle.

"Mhmm!" She nodded.

"Told you she will be fine." YN giggled.

"Did you just crashed into the sofa purposely?" Harry squinted his eyes at the little girl. She squealed and ran to her Mummy for rescue. She is so weird sometimes.

Harry's day ended quietly as Hebe is at her mum's. He misses her already though!

#fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles x y/n #boyfriendrry #dadrry #dad!harry

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goggles-mcgee · 3 years

Note

i’m really loving the Wish me Away au idea! Would you be up to writing about what the batfam does after seeing mari’s reaction to emilie and adrien?

Like an actually little drabble? Yeah sure! It'll be based off the headcanons from this post -> 👶

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Bruce couldn't remember having so much fun, he always loved to brag about his kids and show them off at work, but it was a little hard when it was 'Bring Your Kid To Work Day' and most of your kids worked with you. That's why he was so happy bringing little Marietta with him to Wayne Enterprises, he also brought Damian but Damian had wandered off to see what Dick did since, and he quotes, "I know everything about you father. If I am to be your successor it is only natural I familiarize myself with your work. I believe it would be beneficial for me to oversee Grayson's work ethic."

Honestly, Damian could have just said he wanted to see what Dick did but that was just part of Damian's charm. Before he had left, Damian had let Marietta grab his finger and give it a little shake which delighted her, if Bruce was not mistaken, Damian had even smiled before he said bye to the both of them. The boy had really grown to love Mari and Bruce could not be more proud of his son. Though, he had to admit, all of his children were absolutely enamored with the baby, not to say he wasn't, but Lord have mercy on anyone who dared mess with his baby girl. She would have an army behind her of overprotective brothers and sisters, and father and mother, and grandfather, and cow...and turkey...and dogs...and cats...and dragon bat....and semi-god things that called themselves kwamis...and two very very powerful almost godlike godparents (Diana and Clark.) Now Bruce didn't like to think about it but he did also have to add Mari's....friends to that list... i.e. some of his rogues, which yes was fucking bizarre beyond all reason, but some had even cut back on crime because of their friendship with his little mini-hero so that was a plus. Right?

Well that was a thought for another day, now he got to take his little girl around and take her into meetings, which was certainly going to be interesting, but Marietta always seemed interested in watching him work so he wasn't too worried. He packed her plenty of snacks along with her lunch that Alfred made, he made sure to pack her favorite toys and a variety of coloring books and markers and crayons. And of course he remembered to pack cookies for Tikki who was riding in the hood of Marietta's dress. Plus he made sure to pack a little first aid kid just in case, also another sweater for Marietta in case she got cold.

He liked to be prepared. Sue him.

First meeting of the day was with a Ms. Graham de Vanily. If his memory served right this was Emilie and not Amelie who he had spoken with in the past. Not for the first time he had to wonder what possessed their parents to name the identical twin sisters Emilie and Amelie, but apparently she had brought along her son as well so that made this meeting a little less awkward. He adjusted his hold on Marietta before he continued on his walk to his office where he would be meeting Ms. Emilie, he had hoped to show his daughter around more when they had arrived but he had actually forgotten about this particular meeting and so hadn't rescheduled it to a time when he would hand over Marietta to one of her brother's since they deemed it "unfair" that only he got to show her his work.

Honestly his boys. They were wonderful but boy did they get jealous of one another if Marietta gave one more attention than the other. He fondly remembered one family game night where all the boys were asking who Mari's favorite brother is and she had just been laughing at all the attention not really understanding and it was the first time Bruce had witnessed Damian giving someone a smile and opening his arms for a hug. Of course he had done it behind all his siblings backs and only Alfred and Bruce himself had seen it. It was a sight to see everyone's face when Mari giggled out a, "Dami!", and ran over to him. When everyone turned around he was back to his stoic face but he was hugging Marietta and she was snuggling herself against him but as he looked at everyone he gave them a small smirk. There was an uproar, a demand for a retest, but Damian wouldn’t have it and it had been one of the most chaotic nights in the Manor. Selina had been very entertained especially when Marietta somehow made her way out of the gaggle of children and waddled over to her and had climbed in her lap very clumsily before plopping herself down and making herself comfortable, almost like a cat Bruce had thought, before smiling up at Selina. Selina had just turned to Bruce and said in a complete monotone voice, “I would die for this child.”

Him and Selina hadn't tied the knot yet so to say, nor had he proposed. They were trying their hand at dating again but he couldn't help the way his heart skipped and his mind conjured up images of tuxedos, lace, friends and family, cakes and kisses, and rings and vows exchanged, when his baby girl, his little Marietta looked up at Selina and called her Maman. Bruce wondered if she ever shared his thoughts, he almost convinced himself she did whenever he saw her melt and practically purr when Mari, or as Selina liked to call her, Kitten, would call her Maman. He could see the love in the older woman's eyes and he had no doubt in his heart that this time, they would work out, this time they would get their 'happily ever after' or whatever came close to it.

He was ripped from his thought when he heard his baby girl giggle at something Lucius said.

"Morning Lucius."

"And good morning to you Mr. Wayne. I see you brought the little one."

"Yes. I promised I would bring her but I must admit, the meeting with Ms. Graham de Vanily slipped my mind." Bruce sighed out.

"I guessed as much. Well if you want, I can watch the Little Wayne while you have your meeting." Lucius offered, of course Bruce trusted him to watch Marietta seeing as the older man also practically adopted Mari at first sight. He was basically another grandfather to her.

"Gampa Fox!" Marietta began before dissolving into her baby babble. She was getting very good at speaking. Honestly she was very smart for a two year old.

"That's okay Lucius, I want to bring her in. Besides if her brothers spot her with you they wouldn't hesitate to snatch her up before their scheduled times. If Ms. Graham de Vanily has a problem with it I will insist on a reschedule. It's not everyday I get some one on one time with Marietta." Bruce admitted.

"You know one day someone is going to say no to you despite your good looks, money and reputation. Fine. Head on in, our guest is already here, which by the way, I don't think she will mind Mari seeing as she brought her own son to this meeting." Lucius sighed but he gave Mari a little wave and pointed Bruce to one of the smaller meeting rooms they had in Wayne Enterprises.

"Aww Lucius you think I'm good looking?"

"Go."

"Yes sir." Bruce chuckled out with a brief wave before he made his way over to the meeting room Lucius had pointed to and gently rapped his knuckled on the outside door despite the room being visible from outside because of the large windows. He heard a feminine voice call out from inside so he entered,

“Remember your manners Marietta and if you need anything don’t be shy.” Bruce told his daughter softly as they walked in, he chuckled when she nodded enthusiastically. As soon as he caught sight of the blonde woman he put on his best business smile. “Ah, Ms. Graham de Vanily, so sorry to keep you waiting. I must admit that this meeting slipped my mind.”

“No worries Mr. Wayne, I don’t believe this will be long. I see you brought your daughter. I brought my son! Adrien say hi.” Ms. Graham de Vanily light-heartedly scolded her son and tapped his shoulder. When Bruce took his seat and placed Marietta on his lap he finally got a good look at them both. Both mother and son were blond, her son, Adrien was a teenager, from the looks of it he was 16 maybe even 17. When his mother tapped him on the shoulder he sat up straighter than when he was slouching so obviously he didn’t want to come. So why bring him then?

“Hello Mr. Wayne, it’s an honor to meet you.” Adrien greeted him with a model smile, he had seen enough to spot them from the real deal.

“Likewise. Marietta, can you say ‘hello’ to our guests?” Bruce asked gently down to his daughter who was being uncharacteristically quiet. Usually she would already saying ‘hi’ and waving, maybe even trying to get a high five or hand shake. Though now she was hiding her face in his chest and hugging her backpack to her, she made a small noise like a whimper and Bruce was absolutely dumbfounded. His daughter had never acted like this before, not even with Joker for crying out loud yet here she was trembling and trying to hide herself in his arms. He didn’t know what was going on but his daughter was scared so he scooped her up and held her closer to him but she still tried to pull herself closer. Finally Bruce caught sight of Tikki inside Marietta’s open backpack and saw her antennae-like things pulled back and her eyes narrowed as the kwami glared at Ms. Graham de Vanily and her son, if he wasn’t mistaken she was even glowing a faint red especially as she stared at Adrien. Bruce didn’t understand what was causing these reactions but he did know one thing, he wasn’t going to make Marietta sit there.

“I apologize. She’s not normally like this, I think it would be best if I take her to one of her brothers if you don’t mind.”

“Oh...no worries at all. I’m sorry if we scared her somehow.” The woman actually sounded genuine but Bruce wasn’t going to risk anything, especially with how her son actually looked at his daughter for the first time that they walked in there.

“I’m sure that’s not the case, but it will probably be best to take her to one of her brothers that way we can get through this meeting. I will be fast.” With that he was out the room and speedwalking down the hall over to Lucius’s office. “I don’t have time to explain but Marietta was acting strange around Ms. Graham de Vanily and her son and Tikki as well. Can you take her to one of her brothers please? Just inform me who and I will go pick her up after the meeting.”

Lucius on his part did his best not to ask questions knowing Bruce didn’t have the time but he did raise a brow that told Bruce he would be answering those unasked questions later. “Of course. I’ll go see what Dick and Damian are up to.”

“Thank you Lucius.” Bruce said sincerely before he made his way back to his meeting. He had questions too and they were all for Tikki, but there would be time for that later, now it was time for business.

__________________________________________

The meeting passed and all Bruce could think about was getting to Marietta. He checked his texts from Lucius that informed him that he did indeed leave Mari with Dick and Damian so he made his way over to the central security room knowing that’s where Dick would most likely be. When he got there he was relieved to see his baby girl laughing and playing with Dick while Damian sat on a chair watching, as he walked in the two boys stood up swiftly with Dick scooping up Marietta and angling her away from the door but when they saw it was him they relaxed. “Father, Lucius told us nothing, what happened?” Damian demanded.

“I’m not sure myself. Marietta started acting scared when we got in the meeting room with Ms. Graham de Vanily and her son Adrien.” Bruce answered.

“NO!” They all stared at Marietta in shock when she screamed and tried to hide herself in Dick’s chest, then they all stared at each other with wide eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey. Etta what’s wrong?” Dick asked softly.

“No Adrien! No!” Marietta cried out.

The air grew cold. Bruce could hear his son’s gasp and he wouldn’t be surprised if he did as well. “ طفل الخفافيش (tifl alkhafafish), you’re safe. This Adrien won’t harm you I promise.” Damian cooed to Marietta.

“الأخ الأكبر (al'akhu al'akbar).” Mari cried out wetly as she reached her hands out for him and he of course took her out of Dick’s arms and held her.

“Tikki. Explain...please.” Bruce pleaded.

Tikki flew out of Mari’s backpack and sadly looked over at the girl before flying over to her and kissing the top of her head before flying and landing on Dick’s desk. “It’s...They are from her old life. Ad- He was her former partner...the one who wished her away. That woman shouldn’t be alive.”

“He was the one to betray her?” Damian asked, his voice full of ice and steel. “Father I will be needing my swords. All of them.”

“Damian. No.”

“What do you mean no?” His son asked indignantly.

“Yeah what do you mean no?” Tikki asked with a tilt of her head, Bruce glared at her, she knew what she was doing.

“Tikki what do you mean that woman shouldn’t be alive?” Dick asked.

“Simply that. She was a corpse. No soul. Haw-Gab- The villain Mari had to face before, she was his wife. He wished for her life.” Tikki explained as though it made total sense to all of them.

“Yeaaaaah, you’re going to need to expand on that.” Dick said which made Tikki frown in confusion.

“While I do agree with that, maybe we should wait until we are at home to continue this conversation. You boys know how Tim and Jason will be if they aren’t informed about what happened. You boys tell them and I’ll take Marietta. We will continue on with our day, but if you see either of them lingering here alert me. I don’t want Marietta to have to interact with them at all if we can help it.” Bruce said as he gently took Marietta from Damian who looked like he wanted to do anything but give his little sister to his father.

“If I see them I have a right to defend Marietta.” Damian stated. “You can’t stop me.”

“Damian.”

“Don’t worry Bruce, at least he doesn’t have a sword on him.” Dick chuckled.

“Who said I didn’t? Was it Todd?”

Bruce needed a break. Bruce questioned why he had so many kids not for the first time in his life. Bruce decided to ignore the fact his child admitted to having a sword somewhere on him and just did as he said he was going to do, continue his day with his daughter and if he held her a little closer to him than usual? Well it couldn’t be helped.

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I know it’s not like the reactions yet but I am in the process of writing Wish Me Away so take this! XD

طفل الخفافيش (tifl alkhafafish): Baby Bat

“الأخ الأكبر (al'akhu al'akbar): Big Brother

#wish me away #wish me away au #wish me away drabble #maribat #mldccrossover #mldccrossover Damian Wayne | Robin #mldccrossover Bruce Wayne | Batman #mldccrossover Dick Grayson | Nightwing #mldccrossover Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir #mldccrossover emilie agreste #mldccrossover marinette dupain cheng | ladybug #MLDC #mldc crossover #goggles ask #goggles answer #goggles answers #mldccrossover Lucius Fox

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar

(Part 3! Starring Mini Mammon and Mini Asmo!)

Part 1 Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Underground Tomb special Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Part 4

MC names:

Lucifer’s kid=L!MC | Mammon’s kid=M!MC | Asmo’s kid=A!MC

Why did bad things happen to good people? Well... Lucifer being a good person is up to interpretation. He hadn’t done anything too heinous recently, his instruments of torture were collecting dust for goodness sake! So why oh why was he staring down two half demon children who looked suspiciously like two of his brothers?

The first kid to step forward was Mammon’s without a doubt, but their general demeanour was very different from their father’s. Perhaps their other parent had done a good job-

“What the fuck was that?!”

Never mind. The kid had Mammon’s pottymouth.

The other child surveyed the scene with a nervousness that their suspected parent never possessed. The kid’s gaze fell on Lucifer, their eyes began to glow ever so slightly. “Uh-um...” the kid cleared their throat. “Someone explain what’s going on!”

Was this child seriously trying to use manipulation powers on Lucifer? He almost laughed at the mere idea of someone trying. The child didn’t even seem to be aware that they were doing it. When their question was met with blank stares, they instantly shrank back and practically hid behind the first half demon. Despite the severe self-esteem difference, this kid was Asmodeus’.

Lucifer’s own child cleared their throat and smiled. “Welcome to the Devildom!”

The Uncle That Looks Like he Has his Shit Together but he Leaves the Reunion Drunk off his Rocker (Lucifer)

Ah shit here we go again-

Okay- okay. Normally he’d scold L!MC for taking Diavolo’s line, but Dia had recovered from his shock and was now gushing over the new exchange students like an excited puppy.

“Okay... L!MC you’re going to need to share your room.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Unless Belphie is willing to give up the attic as a nap spot-”

“OVER MY DEAD BODY!”

“You’re sharing your room.”

RAD was buzzing with gossip for the entire first month of the second attempt at the exchange program. The threats of being eaten were once again stamped out very quickly.

(Special thanks to L!MC for being a good bodyguard)

Now, Lucifer didn’t exactly know what to expect when it came to the child of his favourite brother. Mammon was a dumbass, but this kid... this kid...

Was smart.

For the first time in Lucifer’s very long life he felt compelled to place someone in a higher echelon than himself.

Mammon’s child managed to successfully budget that dumpster fire of a house. On the first fucking day. Not only that. This kid managed to skim FIVE THOUSAND GRIMM OFF THE TOP AND THE BUDGET STILL WORKED! WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT-

Lucifer and Mammon thanked whatever spirit was watching over them because they truly believed their financial woes were over.

Shame that M!MC also spent their money on dumb stuff they didn’t need. Like father like child.

It’s no secret that Lucifer does have a bit of a soft spot for Asmo, I mean, who doesn’t love Asmo? But A!MC was a blessing sent right from the Celestial Realm.

They were just... too sweet. Way too sweet. Lucifer was actively getting cavities just being near them.

Anyone who bothered A!MC and M!MC during the first month ended up getting... uh... suspended.

(We can assume the threat of suspension would have extended to those who bothered L!MC but all the lesser demons were already terrified of them.)

Normally when Lucifer called someone into his study it was to lecture them for at least four hours and then send them to their rooms, but he was having quite the difficult time actually being upset with M!MC and A!MC.

A!MC looked close to tears and M!MC just stared right back at Lucifer with little to no fear in their eyes.

“Starting a fight during the first week of school is not how I expected the exchange students to behave.” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose, and prepared to continue the lecture, when he heard a sniffle. There wasn’t enough Demonus in the entire Devildom...

“I-I’m s—sorry...” A!MC sniffled, quickly wiping at their eyes. “Th-they were being r-really scary and we did-didn’t know what else to do...”

“So you threw them out of a window?”

“I threw them out of the window.” M!MC huffed. “They were bein’ a dick.”

“So you threw them out of a window?”

“That um...” A!MC mumbled. “That’s not all... I may have... told them to stick their head in a toilet first...”

“You made them stick their head in a toilet,” Lucifer turned to M!MC. “And then you threw them out of a window?”

“Yes.” M!MC and A!MC replied. Lucifer downed the rest of his glass of Demonus and debated whether or not it would be a show of weakness to slam his forehead into the desk in front of the children.

Lucifer looked between the two for a moment, then shook his head and sighed. “It’s my job to deal with threats to the exchange students, not yours.” Lucifer stood in front of the two, he rested his hands on their heads and gave them a quick pat, before knocking their heads together. “Next time someone bothers you, tell me. If I hear even a whisper of you two getting into another fight, I’m hanging you from the ceiling. Is that clear?”

A!MC and M!MC looked at each other, then back at Lucifer and nodded. “Yes sir!”

“Good.” Lucifer removed his hand from their heads. “Now shoo.”

Flying lessons for the two of them went way quicker than it did for L!MC, mainly because L!MC was a way better teacher.

As much as Lucifer loved his newly found niblings, he couldn’t show it too much. Outward softness was reserved for L!MC and L!MC only. M!MC and A!MC were stuck with silent acts of affection.

Every once and a while a little present or two would end up in M!MC or A!MC’s possession. Some ice cream money for M!MC when they blew their part of the budget on fancy sunglasses, a multiplayer video game that the three half-demons could play together, new shoes when A!MC accidentally ruined their’s...

He’s a good uncle. A scary uncle. But a good uncle. ^_^

(Don’t tell him I said that, I’m still in trouble for advertising Mammon’s escape Go Fund Me and I don’t want to have to write the rest of this HC hanging upside down.)

He’s Not Like the Other Dads, he’s a Cool Dad! (Mammon)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (Fear)

He’s a dad?! HE’S TO YOUNG TO BE A DAD! Hang on- he’s over five thousand years old...

Oh would you look at that! His kid pulled out a calculator.

...his annual income? Uh... why do you- HEY! WHAT’S WITH THAT FACE?!

M!MC puffed out their cheek as they continued to add the ever growing list of numbers into the calculator. Mammon was trying to get a peak at what they were calculating. M!MC suddenly looked up and practically lit up the room with their smile. Aw, their fangs were growing in!

They had a devilishly charming smile, just like their pop! A real chip off the old block! It almost brought a tear to Mammon’s eye and he actually felt compelled to give this kid all the money he had on him. Maybe even his Rolex too!

“Mammon, Avatar of Greed,” M!MC said sweetly. “My... dad.”

“Yep! That’s uh... that’s me!” Mammon awkwardly ruffled his kid’s hair, the kid laughed good naturedly.

M!MC’s sweet as honey smile flipped from elated to malicious in a manner of nanoseconds. “You owe over thirteen years of child support. Dad.”

Everyone say thank you to Lucifer and Diavolo for getting M!MC to compromise and not try and sue their father.

If you thought Mammon spoiled L!MC you’ve got another thing coming. Mammon’s wallet never stood a chance against his kid.

Poor Goldie, press F to pay respects.

Mammon also tried to teach A!MC and M!MC to drive, M!MC has no regard for their safety, the safety of others, or the laws of the road, buuuuuuuut they manage to get the car back with no dents and no property damage bills are being delivered to the house sooooo...

A!MC can drive fine... it’s just that they adhere to literally every law known to demonkind, which means neither Mammon or Asmo are allowed to open up the sunroof and do that movie thing where they pop their heads out and yell something. ITS NOT SAFE!

Our beloved dummy also tried to teach his kid how to play poker, with... limited success.

“Aw, come on kiddo.” Mammon smirked, flicking his kid on the nose. “Your poker face is awful, I can also see your cards from here.”

M!MC growled and held their cards closer to their face. “My poker face is fine!” It was in fact, not fine.

Mammon scratched his head and thought for a moment. Was he sure that this kid was his? I mean, they weren’t good at poker, had terrible luck in blackjack and roulette, and could barely understand the rules of craps. Craps! While he was lamenting the loss of possible gambling winnings, an idea hit Mammon at a thousand miles an hour.

“Hey kid, you’re damn good at math like your great and amazin’ father, have you ever thought about learnin’ how to count cards?”

Fancy outfits on, hair done (sorta), car ready, the two were off to the casino after quite the intense training montage. It appeared that casinos in the Devildom allowed children inside... Diavolo should really fix that.

“Okay M!MC, you remember what to do, right?”

“Yes. Remember the signal, and if someone catches on, deny deny deny.”

Mammon gave his kid a slap on the back. “Damn straight! You got this, bud.”

As the night dragged on, M!MC and Mammon had made their weight in money, paper money, they had made a SHIT ton is what I’m saying. Tragically, neither the Avatar of Greed or his child had any sense to leave before their luck crashed like the Stock Market in 1929.

They were both Icarus, and they were playing chicken with the sun... and by 3 am they were also playing chicken with security.

“GO GO GO!” Mammon shouted as he and M!MC sprinted towards the car, the night’s winnings in hand.

“I think I lost a shoe!” M!MC gasped as they scrambled into the car, security on their heels.

“I’ll buy you new shoes JUST PUT ON YOUR SEATBELT!”

Re-enacting every Fast and the Furious movie in twenty minutes was how that lovely night of father/child bonding should have ended... until they got home and realized they were locked out.

“The window to my room!” M!MC whispered, pointing up at their window. “It’s usually unlocked, we can climb up to get to it.”

“Good idea!”

M!MC tucked the bag full of their precious money under their arm and began the climb to their window, their father close behind. They had almost made it, they were so close, M!MC could literally touch the window-

The window swung open and the smiling faces of L!MC and A!MC greeted them.

“Oh my, it looks like we have some delinquents breaking curfew~.” L!MC cooed, resting their head on their hand.

“You shouldn’t be gambling this late! A-and your accessories don’t match!” A!MC huffed.

“Oi! L!MC, A!MC! What are ya doin’ up this late! It’s not good for ya!” Mammon whisper-yelled.

“My sleep schedule should be the least of your concerns right now, right A!MC?” L!MC elbowed A!MC, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Yep! Those who break curfew are hung from the ceiling by their toes.” A!MC shuddered.

M!MC rolled their eyes and stuck out their hand. “Come on L!MC! Let us in! You should listen to your older cousin!”

Upon hearing M!MC pull the older cousin card L!MC smiled deviously, grabbing both of M!MC’s hands. “Of course, dear cousin.” They leaned in. “Long live the king!”

L!MC shoved M!MC downward, Mammon caught them, but lost his own grip and they both lost hold of the money, which fell out of the bag and onto the ground like snow. Paper snow...

Oh well, at least Mammon and M!MC landed in some of the bushes...

“Ya know,” Mammon said as the money fell around them. “I’ve had dreams where this has happened.”

“Wow,” M!MC smiled. “Me too!”

Yep. This was his kid alright.

Not all his father/kid time revolved around money, it also revolved around both of them trying to avoid horror movie night without making it look like they were chickening out.

“Okay, I’ll fake a medical emergency!”

“Kid, no! They’ll never believe that!”

Since A!MC had their father’s eye for fashion and none of the judgemental comments, the kid became Mammon’s unofficial style coach.

“U-um... I hate to say it but those shoes don’t match with the rest of the outfit, the silhouette is confusing...”

“What’re ya talkin’ about? I look fantastic!”

“Are you blind? You look like a thrift store threw up on you.”

“Who invited you, Asmo?!”

“I’m here to support A!MC! You’re doing great by the way, sweetie!”

He may have cried a little when M!MC was able to fly without help... sniffle... they grow up so fast...

Oh- oh fuck they both crashed into the tree-

Oh My God he Actually Showed Up?! (Levi)

That... that couldn’t be real life! A shut-in’s worst nightmare! More people he needed to talk to!

Considering Mammon and Asmo’s track record with taking care of his things, Levi was incredibly hesitant to invite the two to binge anime with him and L!MC.

It seemed that the two normies inherited their fathers’s level of respect for closed doors. What I’m saying is the two crashed anime night.

“I have never seen such bullshit before.”

M!MC’s hands were stuffed in about five pairs of socks each, effectively turning their hands into useless nubs.

“You be quiet! This is to make sure that you don’t take any of my things and try and sell them on Akuzon!” Levi hissed, turning back to make sure his figurines were safe from the mini Mammon. A!MC was standing awkwardly next to L!MC, who was sitting in Levi’s gaming chair reading manga.

“So what are we going to watch..?” A!MC piped up. “I haven’t really watched much anime but I did watch Digimon...”

“I was more of a Beyblade kid.” M!MC hit their sock-stumps together to make a thumping noise.

Levi looked like he was ready to have a stroke. “L-listen! Those are gateway anime! You two need to watch proper anime! Non-dubbed anime!”

A!MC let out a shriek and stared at their reflection in a very shiny looking gundam figurine. “Have I been wearing off colour lip gloss the entire day?! O-oh no... I’m a mess!”

Levi let out a strangled wail and snatched the gundam out of A!MC’s hands. “D-don’t touch that! It’s worth more than a house!”

“It is?!” M!MC perked up and tried to wrestle their way out of their sock-gloves.

“Don’t make me stick you in a straight jacket...” Levi growled. He turned to L!MC with a pleading look on his face. “Please make them stop...”

L!MC grinned deviously and closed their book. “Of course I’ll help you, if we watch season two of The Promised Neverland.”

Levi shrieked and nearly pulled out his hair then and there. “It’s manga divergent! MANGA DIVERGENT! THEY SKIPPED SO MANY ARCS!”

M!MC and A!MC continued to wreak both purposeful and accidental havoc on Levi’s room, he was just about ready to summon Lotan then and there when L!MC shrugged.

“The ball’s in your court, Levi.” L!MC leaned back in the chair and resumed reading their manga.

Levi’s willpower shattered the moment he heard something fall off one of his cabinets. “WE CAN WATCH WHATEVER YOU WANT JUST MAKE THEM STOOOOOP!”

Quick as a flash, L!MC was out of the chair and had both M!MC and A!MC by the ears.

“HEY!” L!MC growled. “STOP ACTING LIKE IDIOTS OR SO HELP ME GRANDFATHER YOU TWO WON’T LIVE TO SEE GRADUATION!”

M!MC and A!MC became the most well behaved children in the Devildom after that... and L!MC and Levi got to watch their anime in peace.

Okay, Levi wasn’t heartless, he loved his lame normie niblings. They were just very very loud...

Though, M!MC was very good at finding merch for way lower prices... and A!MC actually really liked some of the anime they watched... Maybe they weren’t so bad.

M!MC’s attempts to budget that financial dumpster fire of an otaku was not going well, at least until M!MC convinced Lucifer to dangle concert tickets in front of Levi like a carrot on a stick until he agreed to do his best to stay within the monthly budget.

Levi had learned his lesson from L!MC’s flying lessons and steered clear of them, but luck was not on his side. The ONE time he willingly stepped outside of the house...

Both M!MC and A!MC crashed right into him.

The Uncle With the Cat You Never See and Aren’t Really Allowed to Pet. (Satan)

Oh fuck him sideways the house was going to be so much louder... Say goodbye to his quiet reading time...

On the bright side, the look of pure disbelief and exhaustion on Lucifer’s face gave Satan the biggest rush of serotonin he’d ever had in his life.

To be honest, he got on well with Asmo, and he... well it’s Mammon.

Could have been worse.

Could have been ANOTHER child of Lucifer.

“So... who do you think did it?” M!MC asked as the opening to the fourth episode of the murder documentary they were watching began. “I think it was the sister.”

“On what evidence do you make that assumption?” Satan asked.

M!MC shrugged. “Chick’s shifty.”

“I um... I think they disappeared on their own accord.” A!MC murmured. “I mean, so far it seemed the two’s home lives sucked...”

“Good theory.” Satan nodded to himself. “But both of you are wrong, it was very clearly the mother and the neighbour.”

“On what evidence do you make that assumption?” L!MC asked, imitating Satan’s voice. Detective Toe Beans was sprawled out on their lap.

Satan glowered at L!MC and leaned over to scratch Bean behind the ears. “The step-mother and neighbour are backing up each other’s alibis and they have a motive, access to a possible murder weapon, and a way of disposing of the corpses.”

L!MC rolled their eyes. “That’s a load of crap. It was just the step-mother. The mother had the motive, she and the father were on the outs, she wanted the father’s inheritance all to herself so she got rid of his kids.”

“How many more episodes of this are there?” M!MC asked. “This seems like a really dragged out way of just saying: I don’t know.”

“Sh! They’re explaining possible corpse disposal methods!” Satan hissed.

The four of them traded theories until the documentary series eventually ended with an unsatisfying ‘we dunno’.

“This is such shit...” M!MC muttered. “How have they managed to fill eight episodes with all these leads and evidence and the case is still unsolved?!”

“It’s because everyone involved was incompetent and stupid.” Satan sighed.

“You know,” L!MC smirked. “With all the true crime stuff the four of us watch, we could create the perfect crime.”

“We really could.” M!MC nodded in agreement.

“Using A!MC’s powers no one would suspect us...” Satan rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Uh...” A!MC shifted uncomfortably. “On an unrelated note... I’m going to go...”

As A!MC scampered out of the room, L!MC turned to Satan and M!MC.

“There’s always the one weak person in the group who’s not down with murder.”

“A sad truth.”

“Hang on I thought we were talking about theft or something-”

Satan and M!MC are surprising study buddies, hell, they even help Mammon study. Or... it’s more accurate to say that they try to help Mammon study.

A!MC is good company, they’re quiet when they read, unlike most people in the house who felt the need to provide commentary on every single event that occurs in the book.

After proving to be quite useless in L!MC’s flight lessons, he just reminded the two new half demons to wear protective padding.

The Hot Single Dad That’s In Every Romcom That Features a Child (Asmo)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (excitement)

Oh... his... father... HE WAS A DILF NOW-

He practically vaulted out of his seat to coo and fuss over his new found hellspawn, they were just SO CUTE!

Their wings were just like his! So adorable! Oh and those little horns! They were so cute Asmo just might have combusted then and there.

Of course, he couldn’t combust without finding out which of his flings had made such an adorably shy mini-him.

“Ah! I remember that party!” Asmo squee-ed as he looked at a picture of A!MC’s parent. “They looked so hot in that outfit I swear I was completely-”

“Asmodeus.” Lucifer grumbled. “That’s a child in front of you.”

“Oh! Right! Mind if I call your ren, A!MC?” Asmo asked, ruffling their kid’s hair. “I want to see if they remember me fondly!”

As Asmo chattered with A!MC’s parent about just how adorable and perfect their kid turned out, Asmo leaned over to A!MC to ask a question.

“A!MC, I know this is sudden but how do you feel about getting a sib-”

“ASMODEUS IF YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE I WILL FEED YOU TO CERBERUS!”

“Tsk. Rude.”

It’s safe to say Asmo adores his kid. I mean, they’re 50% him, how could he not.

He didn’t exactly have experience with the whole... being a big part of his kids’s life thing. Sure he held the unofficial record for most kids but that was because effective birth control hadn’t been invented at the time when he was allowed to run rampant in the human world, not because he was an A+ dad.

None of that mattered! He was going to be a 10/10 dad to A!MC!

They were so shy... so... mouse-like...

“Um... dad?” A!MC awkwardly twiddled there thumbs as they stood in the doorway to their father’s room. The sweet smell of whatever essential oil was being spread with the diffuser did next to nothing to calm the poor half-demon’s nerves.

Asmo popped his head out of his walk-in closet with a sparkling smile. “Yes, child of mine?”

“I um, just wanted to ask...” A!MC was desperately trying to stave off an oncoming stutter-spiral. “H-h-how- *ahem* how do- ugh...”

A!MC steeled their face and straightened their posture.

“How do I be confident like you?!” They blurted that out a little too loud for comfort, but Asmo’s near-immediate joy quashed any embarrassment A!MC was feeling.

“You want to be like little ol’ me?” Asmo gushed, clearly trying to hide just how flattered he was. “Well, of course you do! Your dad’s got your back. So first what we’re going to do-”

The Avatar of Lust had done the stereotypical early 2000s movie makeover many times before, but never with so much enthusiasm. His kid’s style was fine, it wasn’t a lack of pizazz either, it was the lack of confidence in the pizazz.

“Okay, now stand up straight.”

A!MC straightened their back as much as they could.

“Perfect! Chin up, shoulders back, and there you go!”

A!MC didn’t look too different on account that Asmo felt like their fashion sense was perfect, but dear not-old dad coached MC on a new walk, better posture, and Asmo filled their arms with about seven boxes of self-care supplies.

“What’s all this for?” A!MC asked, shifting the weight of the boxes slightly so they could actually see their dad.

“That, A!MC, is all the stuff you need to have confidence.” Asmo explained. “It’s not required of course, but it sure does help.”

“I’m not sure I follow...”

“Oh sweetie, it’s simple really. When you take care of yourself, you feel better, and when you feel better, you look better, and when you look better and feel better, your confidence skyrockets!” Asmo shifted some of the boxes A!MC was carrying around so they could stand up straighter and not be held down by the weight of the self-care arsenal. “Good posture stops your back from hurting, dressing decently helps you feel better about your appearance, as does taking care of your skin, aaaaaand all this will culminate in you being your best!”

A!MC still looked a bit skeptical, but they nodded anyway.

“Remember MC!” Asmo said as he led MC back to their room to help them sort their new stuff. “Confidence in yourself doesn’t happen overnight, so don’t let Mammon try and sell you a fix-all potion because it’s just boiled Gatorade.”

“O-okay- wait did you just say-”

“Yes, boiled Gatorade.” Asmo shuddered. “Let’s not talk about that.”

Dear uncle Asmo? A financial dumpster fire?! It’s more likely than you’d think.

Sure, Asmo’s got a job and makes his own money, but Geez Louise... one demon does not need that much hand cream! Or that many questionable Akuzon packages that everyone is too afraid to touch...

M!MC had their work cut out for them is what I’m trying to say.

Of course... once M!MC realized what a lost cause getting Asmo to stop with the obsessive bath bomb purchases was and a few too many insults were thrown at M!MC’s dear dad... some of Asmo’s things went uh... “missing”

But would you look at that! No one went over-budget!

Even though their dads have a fierce party related rivalry, A!MC and M!MC get along great. It’s very wholesome.

The Uncle That Helps You Pester Whoever is in Charge of the Food at the Family Reunion About Dessert (Beel)

Yay! More kids :)

Do you think any of them know how to cook? No? Okay... :(

Beel adores his new niblings with all his heart and soul, and Belphie’s out of the attic and is able to meet them with everyone else this time! Yay!

I didn’t mention this in the other parts- but Beel totally gave L!MC piggyback rides whenever they asked, but now that two more kids have arrived... it’s now a fight to be tall.

But yea- kids like uncle Beel. Strong contender for favourite uncle.

“Do you think this is right?” A!MC asked as they fiddled with the settings on the stovetop.

“No clue. Do we put the cheese on while the meat is cooking or do we wait until after?” M!MC asked, they flipped through multiple cheeseburger recipes on their DDD, their frustration growing. “Hang on- do we have a deep fryer?”

A!MC rummaged around the cupboards and shelves for a good fifteen minutes and came back empty handed. “No, but I’ve seen videos of people making fries without a deep fryer, I think we just need to heat up vegetable oil and drop the potatoes in.”

After setting up the make-shift deep fryer, the two cousins carefully dropped the first fry into the oil, then screamed like banshees when some oil splashed close to their hands.

“Did you get burned?!” M!MC asked, A!MC shook their head.

“No, you?”

“Nah...” M!MC eyed the oil warily. “We should do this one at a time to be safe...”

It was an awkward process, grab potato, place potato, scream, make sure no one is burned, repeat. As... decent as the process was, with both of them manning the deep fryer, no one was manning the patties that were now completely charred.

“What’s going on in here? It smells like Solomon’s cooking.” Beel poked his head into the kitchen and saw two very upset children and the world’s messiest kitchen.

“We’re failures. That’s all...” M!MC murmured.

“We wanted to make lunch for all of us and we ruined it...” A!MC added.

Beel’s heart was set to explode then and there- but his stomach growled. “You tried your best, don’t feel too bad. Let’s get cheeseburgers somewhere else with Belphie.”

M!MC and A!MC nodded enthusiastically as the three of them left the destroyed kitchen behind them.

After Beel had to sling a sleeping Belphie over his shoulder, the now four of them were halfway out the door before they heard L!MC scream bloody murder.

“YOU IDIOTS COME BACK HERE AND CLEAN THIS MESS UP RIGHT NOW!”

M!MC and A!MC made eye contact, then sprinted out the door. “CHEESEBURGERS FIRST!”

A!MC and M!MC probably go to all of Beel’s games like the little super fans they are. Beel is very grateful for the support! :D

Flying lessons? Nnnnnot again. He’s here for moral support and moral support only. And to catch the two babs when they inevitably fall.

The Uncle Who Was Like... Really Racist the Last Time You Saw Him But He’s Not Anymore (Belphie)

So he uh... he didn’t try and kill these two. That already gave the two newbies a better first impression than what he gave to L!MC.

The Anti Lucifer league ALSO grew, just by one member though. A!MC was very easily persuaded to snitch on whatever prank the group concocted.

The attic nap club gained two new members, but Belphie still had to deal with wings hitting him in the face and waking him up. He’d usually return the favour with a swat from his tail.

“M!MC I swear I will throw you out of the window if you kick me again.” Belphie murmured, mashing his face into his pillow.

“Mmmph.” M!MC threw a pillow in Belphie’s direction.

“Quit whining, Belphie.” L!MC huffed. “You’re doing better than me.”

A!MC had attached themselves to L!MC like a sloth to a tree and would not let go or stop drooling. Ah schadenfreude, the best feeling in the galaxy...

“Stop with that look.” L!MC hissed, Belphie snickered. “I’m telling you to quit it because you’ll wake up Beel, and Beel is solving your M!MC problem.”

Belphie turned to see Beel practically crush M!MC into a bone breaking hug in his sleep.

“Should we do something about that?” L!MC yawned.

Belphie smirked his little douchebag smirk. “Eh, let them stew for a few more minutes.”

“Help me...” M!MC rasped.

Out of the three, A!MC is probably the best nap buddy, they bring in their own pillows and don’t hog the blankets.

Belphie is once again at the forefront for taking videos of the flying lessons, at least till M!MC accidentally broke Belphie’s DDD.

Just a friendly reminder, the sleepy cow man would kill for these kids.

Look at them funny and no one will find your body.

Okay! That’s part 3 done! I had to cut Belphie’s and Satan’s short because of post limit stuff, but the stuff with the side characters is coming soon! Also, Mammon would like me to inform all those who donated to his Go Fund Me that you will NOT be getting your money back, he has a kid to deck out in full Gucci now, he needs the cash!

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venteamocha · 3 years

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Hello! Sometimes I see you post stuff from IF blogs and I've recently started playing some IF games, which I've enjoyed so far. Do you have any IF stories you'd recommend in particular? I'm not attached to any particular genre and I don't need romance or a self-insert main character, (though I'm not opposed to either). Though, it's a definite plus if it's LGBTQ+ inclusive! I'm not really sure what the "cornerstones" are of IF so I'll take any and all recommendations haha

Oh god, I play so many IFs. So many. And it’s not even close to all of them, but I’m trying!!

Tbh IFs without romance seems to be very rare, I think because when I think IF I think Choice of Games, and those pretty much always have romance in them. At least, the most well known ones do. But a well done one without romance would be nice too!

Okay, this is a list of my favourites! They’re all LGBT+ inclusive, and most have gender selectable love interests, or at least ones that change gender depending on the gender and sexuality combination you pick. In no particular order, of course. Behind a cut because I’m gonna give them each a mini review. Because I haven’t done that yet.

(There are so many.)

Mind Blind: I absolutely love our big brother Nick, I love how witty and sharp so much of the dialogue is, I love how the MC clearly has a rather large handicap, but is still such an important person to so many people and not looked down on in the slightest. And when they are, we all know it’s because that person is a jerk! They’re not defined by what they aren’t, but what they are, and that’s a great message.

Shepherds of Haven: Part of why I love this one so much is I just love fantasy settings and this one just pulls it off so well. The cast is full of amazing characters, and I gotta say I die inside pretty regularly for not being able to afford the patreon content, lol. The author puts so much amazing stuff on there, and gives us so much great content in the game and through answers on tumblr, and you can tell this whole thing is just the best thing ever to them, and that makes it the best ever for us readers too!

The Wayhaven Chronicles: I’d be shot if I didn’t mention this one, the series that literally killed dashingdon when the book 3 demo dropped!! Again, another author that cares a lot and does their best to do right by their fans. We’ve been given drip after drip of these amazing characters backstories, and I just cannot wait for more! It’s definitely very romance centered, but the overall plotlines are also very good, and I have to say that no matter who I romance, I just feel like the group as a whole is a family. And that’s wonderful.

Speaker: I really like the lore. I really like the lore. I can’t wait until we get more of the overall plotline. Mostly I want my Speaker to get in deep trouble so Seb, Li and Seer (best sister ever) go off and beat the shit out of whatever is causing it. This probably says something about me, but what can I say, I thrive on angst and inflicting near death injuries on my OCs. Sometimes I even kill them, although all of this is offtopic. Or is it? I guess we’ll find out, although I doubt we’ll actually be able to kill off Speaker. And yes, I am definitely playing the Seb & Li poly route. I love them both so much.

Wilhelmina: I love vampires, ok? Ok? And this one is based off Dracula!! The OG!! And you can choose Drac’s gender!! Shit, sign me up forever!! Yeah, she might be literally killing my bff, torturing my fiancé and low key fucking with my mind, but vampires are hot!! Let me live! Or not. But yeah, this is a really well done retelling of the Dracula novel and I like how well it works as an IF. Did I mention I like vampires?? Especially when they get all monstery?? (This one has an MC with a set gender, as it’s based on an already existing literary figure. Mina can have a same sex relationship with dracula, if you make drac a female, or with Lucy, a female love interest.)

More Things in Heaven and Earth: Hi Nell!! First off, I gotta uncover a deep shame of mine. My family literally has a Shakespeare heirloom collection. As in, my greatgrandfather passed down through the family a collection of Shakespeare that was published in 1911. In ye olde englishe. I tried to read it when I was like 10 and was like what language is this?? What the fuck? What the fuck??? And ended up reading As You Like It, a bit of Romeo and Juliet, and a little of Hamlet. Didn’t touch the rest of it. I only got into the other stories through trashy ya reimaginings. That said, this retelling of Hamlet inspired me to go read the whole of the original and now I have a lot of fears for these characters that I’m so much more attached to, oh god I hope my Ophelia has a happy ending. I hope Hamlet himself has a happy ending. The dialogue is so well done, everyone is engaging, and yeah it made me finish an old af book when nothing else did. (This one also has an MC with a set gender, female, for the same reason. However, there are two gender variable love interests, so you can very much play a bi or gay Ophelia if you so choose.)

Guenevere: I love King Arthur. All the myths. I have so many books based on the King Arthur mythos, oh dear god. I love pretty much every version of it. All the movie and tv shows too! I just can’t get enough of those knights. I could go on for paragraphs about how courtly love worked and how all the different social castes were, but I’ll try not to. This series lets you customize Guen as a character to an amazing degree, considering that she’s also based on an actual literary figure like the other two I mentioned above. It really feels like she becomes your own character, and yet she still exists within this world very very well. I worry quite a bit that the author might have bit off more than they can chew with the current book they’re working on, what I’ve seen of it looks absolutely massive in scale. What is out so far is a wonderful read though, full of drama and laughter and lots of chances to make the story your own.

Bastard of Camelot: Yep! Another King Arthur series! Sue me! This one lets you set Mordred’s gender though, so it’s more inclusive in that way. It is very interesting to play as one of the “bad guys” of the King Arthur mythos. You can play them as straight up evil, as good, or you know, a bit of column a and a bit of column b. Or they can just be a rude little shit. It’s got dragons too! You get a dragon pet! Dragons are cool. It can be a bit tough to play sometimes, since a lot of people dislike Mordred quite a lot because of prejudices. Hopefully this will change a bit later in the series if you’ve been a fairly good person up to that point. Gotta say though, as a warning, that Mordred is a product of incest. It’s not glossed over, and it does cause a lot of problems for them in the story.

God of the Red Mountain: I just love that this inspired me to read more chinese mythology tbh. There is just so much here! And it’s just such a good read. I wish I was better at describing things. The MC being a spirit that you can define, the whole setting, most of the love interests also being spirits, the massive amount of history and culture and lore, how it all fits together. It is such a well done story. I really wish it got more attention than it does. I still miss Big Sister. I still can’t wait to find out more about the foxes, and how we can heal our MC.

The Nameless: Another one that lets you play as something otherworldly. I love the lore behind this one, and I love all of the cast I’ve met. I kind of like that our MC isn’t loved right off the bat, that we’ll have to win over all of our love interests and even the other npcs. I’m up for the challenge! Everything I’ve read on the tumblr for these characters just makes me love them all more tbh. I love how much they’ve written for all of them! Most of all though, I love Oisein. All the art of them is just *chef kiss* and their personality is magical.

A Mage Reborn: This is a really recent one but!! Wow, it’s really well done! That cliffhanger!! Oof!! Not many books literally start with killing your MC off! That takes guts! I told the author this already, but I love the way they formatted this, the way it starts with the end, so to speak, and then fills it all out. It just made everything feel so poignant, how MC is literally looking back at all these moments in time in the last minutes they have before they die. Shit. That’s powerful. And there’s gonna be more??? Can’t wait for that angst. Give me that drama. Of course I picked the one who had me killed, that’s just how I am!

These are all just the COG type games, there are a few twine games with graphics I’d throw on here, but the list is long enough as it is and they feel like they’re in a different category to me. Maybe it’s just me?

#if #if recs #rivi's recs #interactive fiction #there are more than these that i like too!#these are just the ones i feel the strongest about #and as i said these don't include the itchio twine ones #there are amazing ones there too but that feels like it should be a separate post?#i'd put links but i think it won't show up anywhere if i do #because tumblr is A Site #i can pass them on though if needed

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pedros-mustache-main · 4 years

Text

crayons & caresses

summary: you know it’s wrong, that pining after your student’s father is wildly inappropriate, but gosh if john deacon isn’t the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

word count: 12k+

warnings: pining to the extreme!, slight angst, discussions of parental death, health scare + medical response, alcohol, language, innuendo, suggestive moments (not 18+ but be mindful)

a/n: mechanic/singledad!john is everything i didn’t know i needed in my life. also: WOW this took me a long ass time because i find john the hardest to write, but i love him so. much. so hopefully it’s worth the wait.

(photo: originally from @davidgayhan i think?? ugh look at him. i drool. yes i did set this during the brief short-perm-montreal moment. sue me)

september, 1981.

you love all of your students equally. each one is like a fingerprint on your heart: unique in their own way, made up of patterns and histories you will never be able to appreciate in full before they are whisked away to their next year. it is safe to say you adore the collection of twenty-four seven year olds who walk into your classroom each morning. their bright faces, some still chubby with baby fat, fill the lonely parts of your soul, and you leave your flat each morning with a sense of purpose and duty. you are their teacher, their guide through some of the most crucial parts of learning. it is an honor and a privilege to teach them—each and every one. but there is one student who sticks out among the rest.

his name is beau deacon.

beau is remarkably quiet. he’s small for his age, both in height and in weight. at times, he appears frail, what with the way he sits by himself in the corner during reading hour, flipping through a picture book with glazed over eyes, never really concentrating on what’s before him. he walks slowly during recess, preferring to stay by himself and drag a stick along the blacktop than play a game of kickball with the other boys. he whispers when he speaks and avoids meeting the eyes of those who do try and pry a few words from him.

you try to engage him—really, you do—but nothing seems to stick. not the participation reward system you build just for him, but use for the entire class. not moving his desk closer to yours. not even coercing your best friend ami to bring in her therapy dogs one afternoon early in the year. despite your best efforts, beau remains decidedly uninterested and removed.

it bothers and worries you to the point of questioning your colleague on the matter. martha is sixty, but spry as ever. she’s been your confidant this last year. you’re new to teaching, green as ever, but she has welcomed you with open arms and a plethora of advice. you feel comfortable sidling up next to her in the car-line one friday afternoon. it’s hot outside, summer not yet allowing autumn to take root, so you hold a hand over your eyes to shade yourself from the sun.

“can i ask you something?” you say, keeping your eyes trained on the children who filter out of the school and into their parent’s waiting vehicles.

“as long as it’s not about sex,” martha mutters. “haven’t had a good romp in so long i don’t even know if it still works the same way.”

you swallow a laugh as a trio of students pass you by. their mother waves over her shoulder, shouting her thanks, before shoving the children in the backseat of a tan mini-van. you watch the van pull away, another car rolling forward to take its place, before asking your question.

“beau deacon,” you start, hoping that, if you simply say his name, martha will fill in the gaps herself.

blessedly, martha twists and nods with a knowing smile. “i know that tyke well. had him last year.”

you release a huff of air in relief. “oh thank goodness. i’m almost beside myself. i don’t know what to do with him.” you frown as you attempt to speak as diplomatically about your student as possible. “he’s awful quiet. he doesn’t play with any of the children and barely looks at me when i speak to him. how’d you manage?”

to your dismay, the older woman just shrugs. “i didn’t really. his mum died all sudden like about halfway through the year, and he clammed up. no matter what i did, what tricks i tried to pull, he stayed completely unmovable.”

“oh.” your shoulders drop in defeat. “i didn’t know.” truthfully, your heart tugs for the child. to lose one’s mother at such a tender age? you can’t imagine the world of hurt he lives in. it’s no wonder he sticks to himself.

“you didn’t speak with his father?”

“no. was i have supposed to?”

“no, not necessarily. mr. deacon was helpful on a few occasions last year. we were sort of a united front, i’d say, when things were particularly bad in the beginning. perhaps give him a call. at least to let him know you’re in his corner.” she smiles and squeezes your bicep. “and you can always come to me, love. i may not have all the answers but i do have some.”

“thank you, martha. i think giving mr. deacon a call might be smart—” you turn at the tell-tale sound of feet dragging against the ground. in the few weeks since classes have started, you’ve grown to know the sound of beau deacon’s footsteps better than your own. he’s always on your mind, the sullen little boy with glasses, so it’s hard not to pounce on him with love when you turn around to see him in the school doorway. “oh! beau! we were just talking about you.”

beau stops walking, and his grip tightens on the straps of his backpack. he doesn’t look up at you, doesn’t say anything. he simply stands there, as if he’s listening but doesn’t know how to respond, so you soldier forward.

“do you have any big plans for the weekend, beau?” you ask.

he shakes his head.

“none with your father?”

another shake of the head.

“well, perhaps you’ll do something fun and you can tell us about it on monday, yeah?”

to your surprise, he nods, which is more than he does most days. you can’t help the smile that claims your lips and the way your arm waves a little too hard to his retreating form. he walks to a faded old corvette and opens the passenger door with ease. you can hear a muffled voice—his father’s no doubt—and see the man stretch his arm out to take beau’s backpack.

but then the car door is shut, and the chevy pulls out of the parking lot with too much speed to be safe when a child is in the front.

you glance at martha. she rolls her eyes and mouths men. you can’t help but agree.

a week passes before you finally find the time to phone beau’s father. you find his name—john richard deacon—and a telephone number in beau’s emergency contact form, shoved amongst a stack of other hastily filled-out parent paperwork. there’s no secondary number listed—not even a distant relative or family friend—so if the call doesn’t work, you aren’t sure what your next move will be. even so, after all the children have left and the other teachers are beginning to close their classrooms for the day, you slouch at your desk and punch the numbers into the phone. it rings three times before someone picks up.

“taylor auto-repair. this is rog.”

the voice on the other end is high and scratchy. you’re taken aback, both by the man on the phone and the blaring rock n roll music in the background. you aren’t an expert, but it sounds like zeppelin. not what you’d expected.

“hello?”

you shake yourself free of surprise, and the wheels beneath your chair scrape against the linoleum floor as you sit forward. “oh, sorry. i thought i was calling the deacon residence?”

“deacon? like john deacon?”

“yes, i’m beau’s schoolteacher. i thought—well, this was the number on the contact form.”

there’s a sigh, and the phone brushes against something rough before rog says anything more. “hold on.” when he speaks next, his voice is distant yet poorly muffled. “deaky! there’s some bird on the phone for you! what have i told ya about putting the shop’s number down instead of the house’s? fuckin’ hell, mate.”

you frown, pressing your fingers to your lips as you wait for... deaky... to take the phone from his co-worker. when a new voice does appear on the line, you again find yourself surprised.

“hello? this is john deacon.” john’s voice is almost lilting, like a song. it’s soft, comforting—though how you determine this from four simple words is beyond your understanding.

“mr. deacon, hi! my name is [y/n] [y/l/n]. i’m beau’s teacher. i thought we might have an over-due chat, if you have the time?”

“oh, hello.” there’s a pause on the other end, as if he’s considering whether or not he’ll entertain your out-of-the-blue phone call. “has beau done something wrong?”

you laugh despite the worried edge to his tone. “no, absolutely not! beau is a delight. he’s practically a model student. however, i do have a few concerns... do you have a moment?”

“yes, i can have. just give me a second.” the line goes muffled again, the only sound a fading rolling stone’s song before all goes quiet. you hear a door shut and the squeak of a chair before john speaks again. “i suppose this is about beau’s shyness?”

you choose your next words carefully, uncertain if john simply cannot accept his son’s retreat into himself or if he does not see it. you��d rather not jump to conclusions and alienate him on your first phone call, but you must admit your unease at hearing the word shyness. beau is far more than shy. despite the frown puckering your brow, you hold your concerns close to your chest for the moment.

“shyness is a word one could use, yes.”

“he’s been that way since his mum died last year.”

rolling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod. “i heard. i’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

john makes a noise somewhere between a huff and a grunt and does not acknowledge your paltry offer of condolence. “if you’re calling to ask how you can fix ‘im, i don’t have any answers for you.”

“i don’t want to fix him, mr. deacon,” you say. “i simply want to help.”

“i’m sure you’ve spoken with mrs. cooper then.” he sighs, and the sound seems to rattle the receiver pressed against your ear. “look, i appreciate what you both are trying to do for beau. but he’s young, and the pain of losing his mum— i just don’t want him to rush into moving on.”

“oh, mr. deacon, that’s not my intention at all!” you wince at the high-pitch of your voice and clear your throat. good lord, this was not going as you’d planned. “i just want him to feel comfortable in the classroom, that’s all.”

“that’s kind of you, but i think it might be easier if you just let beau work it out for himself.”

you fall silent and glance down at the hem of your blouse. there’s a blue thread dangling from the article of clothing, and you pull on it, watching the thread unravel until it falls free from the shirt itself.

in all honesty, you’re puzzled by john’s hesitance to so much as entertain your concern. anyone—student, teacher, classroom parent—who comes across beau knows he’s more than shy. it’s written in his face, in the way he holds himself, in the way he shuffles aimlessly to and fro. god, he breaks your heart. you want to wrap him in a blanket and protect him from the cruel world.

but you’re not his mother. you’re merely his teacher, and you must respect john’s wishes despite how wrong you think they are. perhaps, in time, he will come around, see the need for a little concerted effort in helping beau work through his obvious grief-stricken state.

“is there anything more i can do for you, ms. [y/l/n]?”

clearing your throat again, you sit straighter in your chair and fiddle with a pen on your desk. you click the depressor up and down, up and down. “no, there’s not. i’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

“you didn’t,” john says—and his voice has that indescribable soft quality you noted the moment he first spoke. “really, it does mean something to me that you even thought to call.”

“i care for my students a great deal.” you aren’t sure what brings the words to your lips, but the second they fall past your tongue, a flush crawls up the back of your neck. you’re sure you sound like a petulant child, whining at the mere inconvenience of a rejected idea.

“i can tell.” his tone is anything but salty. in fact, the truth dripping from each word leaves you decidedly flustered. you click the pen faster, your leg bouncing beneath the desk.

“yes—well—i’ll leave you to it.” though you add, “if ever there’s something i can do for beau, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“i’ll be sure to.”

after a rushed goodbye, you drop the phone to its base. the hard-plastic clatters, the coiled wire dropping in a pile on the desk. you press your fingers to your eyelids and groan. both deacon boys, it seems, have the power to infuriate and melt you at the precisely the same moment.

this, you think, does not bode well for the rest of the year.

if you’re being honest, you have to admit that you think of john deacon often as the school year falls into a comfortable rhythm. no matter how hard you try to forget the phone call, forget the way his voice lulled you into a strange sense of serenity, he’s like a specter in the back of your mind: always there and definitely uninvited.

still...

when the children work silently at their desks, you sit behind yours and struggle to keep your mind from wandering to either of the deacon boys. when you greet beau as he walks through the door each morning, you resist the urge to drop a question about his father’s well-being. when the faded red corvette pulls to the curb each afternoon, you bite your tongue and fist your hands at your sides to keep from introducing yourself properly through the open window.

it’s embarrassing, really, how much the phone call with john deacon has affected you. it’s embarrassing how... interested you are in his life. you’re a schoolgirl with a crush—a crush on a man you’ve never even seen! if you were to admit your undue fascination with the deacon household to your best friend ami she would laugh in your face and remind you how desperately you need to get out more. you keep your wonderings and your daydreams to yourself to save her the trouble of telling you what you already know.

come mid-november, when the students are well-adjusted to their daily routine and you’ve learned how to juggle so many personalities at once, you finally pause to take a breath. the breath comes at the end of a school-day. it’s drizzling outside—not raining, but not dry either. the sky is a wash of gray and a deep purple. there’s a storm coming, a bad one too from the looks of it. humming to yourself and contemplating whether or not you should stop by the grocery on your way home, you tug on your jacket and step outside the school into the chilled autumn air.

you’re about to cross the parking lot to your car when you hear a harsh sniffle come from your left. you pause, keys in hand, and twist to see a huddled form on the curb. it’s clearly a student and a young one at that. knees drawn to their chest, backpack large over their back, fingers interlaced on their knees, they are the picture of a frightened schoolchild. the hood of their blue raincoat obscures any defining features, so you hustle to their side and kneel down, but not before glancing at your watch.

nearly four. someone’s been forgotten.

“hey?” you tilt your head to try and catch a glimpse of the face beneath the shade of the jacket hood. “did mum not come through the car line?”

you barely stifle your gasp when the slick raincoat crinkles as the student turns to meet your gaze.

it’s beau deacon.

his eyes are puffy, tears still clinging to his blotchy cheeks. beneath the wide frames of his glasses, fear swims across his gaze. he draws in his lower lip and rubs his hand under his nose. his eyes flicker to the ground, his toes tilting inward.

you press a hand to his shoulder. he feels so small beneath your palm, like a fragile piece of clay, molded by tragedy and loss in such a short span of time. “where’s your father, beau?”

he shrugs. “dunno.”

“i guess he’s running late.” you look at your watch. very late. “should we give him a call?”

beau nods, and you stretch to your full height, offering your hand to help him from the curb. beau does not take it as he stands. he pushes his glasses up his nose and follows you inside the school office where he hesitates in the doorway as you borrow the receptionist’s phone to call the auto-shop.

no one answers.

lowering the phone to its base, you look over your shoulder. through the venetian blinds you can see the sky darkening as you hem-and-haw. in the distance there’s a flash of lightening, and fat raindrops dot the tan sidewalk.

you could leave beau with the receptionist. it’s not uncommon for parents to run late or completely forget about their child. normally, betty calls the child’s guardian and gives the waiting student a granola bar and coloring page or picture book to flip through as they wait for the mortified adult to speed to school. there’s nothing obligating you to stay.

just as there’s nothing obligating you to offer to drive beau home.

you look at betty and calculate the words of your offer. “would it be wrong of me to drive beau home? he lives on my way ‘s all.” boldfaced lie—at least, you think—but what betty doesn’t know can’t hurt her.

betty doesn’t stop clacking on her electronic typewriter. “i don’t think so.” she peers over her glasses at the clock hanging over the door, still typing. “i’ve got a dentist appointment in half an hour, so i don’t have time to wait around today. you’d be doing me a favor, love.”

“alright, it’s settled then.” you slip the thin strap of your purse over your shoulder and turn to beau with a toothy grin. “i’ll drive you home. maybe your father just isn’t feeling well today and overslept?”

beau frowns, and inwardly, you cringe, your smile faltering. beau’s mother died of an illness, so it likely disconcerts him to think of his father in a similar state. in a piss poor attempt at an apology, you grab a piece of chocolate from the bowl near betty’s desk and slip it in beau’s hand as you make your way to the parking lot. the faintest flicker of a grin crosses his face as he methodically unwraps the candy. you take that as a sign of forgiveness.

once beau is snug in the backseat of your station wagon, you pull into traffic with a bubble of giddiness in your stomach. what you’re doing is ridiculous. though you feel horrid beau was left behind, there’s a sick park of you that is glad for it. it’s unlikely you’ll ever meet john deacon unless fate throws you together. he did not attend back to school night, and as a single father, you doubt he has time for any of the other parent-student events on schedule for the rest of the year. in all honesty, you’re taking this opportunity to put a face to the man behind the phone call that’s plagued you with daydreams since it occurred.

if you can just see his face, just learn what he looks like, perhaps the fascination with fade. unless, of course, he turns out to be as attractive as your mind has made him out to be and then you’ll be in even hotter water than you are now.

adjusting yourself in your seat, you glance in the rearview mirror. beau has his head pressed against the foggy glass of the window, his eyes scanning back and forth as he takes in the surrounding scenery. rain droplets create dark shadows over his face, and you wonder if that’s what he feels like on the inside: foggy and rainy and shadowy. you shake the thought free; you read too many melodramatic novels.

“so, beau, what’s your address?” you ask, your tone obnoxiously chipper. he tells you, and you shrug as you tighten your grip on the steering wheel. “gotta give me more than that, hun. do you remember how to get home? do you think you could tell me?”

beau nods and scoots away from the window, leaning nearer the space between the driver and passenger seats. there a gleam in his eye. you catch sight of it as you turn right at his instruction and see him hovering near your shoulder. it seems that with each turn you make his voice inches a decibel louder until you can hear every word with a clarity previously unknown. he’s confident when he’s instructing you, when he knows what he’s supposed to do.

he’s confident when he’s helping.

you tuck the bit of knowledge away for later as you pull into the cracked driveway of a red-brick bungalow. the house is small and unadorned, the homes on opposite sides just as plain and simple. a single spruce tree, like something out of a holiday catalog, is the only foliage in the yard. gauzy curtains are drawn to block the sunlight coming through the two bay windows framing the white front door.

you turn the car off as beau slides across the bench to open the car door. grabbing your handbag, you all but tumble after him, hastening up the sidewalk.

“wait a minute! beau!” you punctuate your call with a breathy laugh and smooth the sides of your hair back as you approach the front door. the bubble of giddiness from moments before has turned to a bubble of nerves, and once again, you realize this moment is entirely ridiculous. still, you adjust your blouse and straighten the crooked edge of your collar.

beau’s left the front door open, his shoes and backpack already tossed on the living room floor. you hesitate at the threshold. you haven’t been properly invited in, but the open door might just be beau’s way of telling you it’s alright to invade his home. at least, that’s the message you decide to take.

crossing the threshold, you hold tight to the strap of your purse and glance around the cramped front living area. beau’s nowhere to be seen, and the home is silent as the grave. you bite the tip of your tongue when your gaze falls over a photograph of a woman holding a baby. it’s beau and his mother; has to be.

maybe... maybe you’ve overstepped your—

“beau, is that you?” the sound of heavy footfalls on stairs snaps your attention away from the photograph. before you can slip away and forget you ever had the silly notion of meeting your student’s father with the intent of something other than a professional hello, a man rounds the corner.

your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. it’s not the john deacon you’d imagined.

he’s shorter than you pictured, only several inches taller than yourself. his jaw is sharp, peppered with a five o’clock shadow, and a thick mustache almost covers his upper lip. a white wife-beater tucked into green trousers completes the ensemble, and his bare feet pad across the floor as he sticks his hand out in greeting.

“you must be the teacher!” he pumps your hand up and down, his grip crushing but his smile wide. his voice is friendly and welcoming, though you can’t be sure it was the voice you heard over the phone. so many days have passed since then, perhaps you just forgot, though it’s highly unlikely.

“i’ve been trying to call deaky ever since i got here, but the damn fool just won’t pick up. i don’t even know where beau’s school is so i couldn’t come and get him myself. the ship we run here isn’t very tight.” he rolls his eyes with a grin. “thanks for bringing him home, darling.”

your head swims as you struggle to keep up with the man’s fast pace. so, he isn’t john deacon? and john deacon isn’t here? you open your mouth to ask the first of several questions but he beats you to it.

“hell, you look positively confused. shut the door, won’t you? the rain’s getting in, and molly was always worried about the the hardwood. i’ll put on the kettle.”

“oh, i don’t—”

he bumps your hip toward the door. “nonsense! deaky will want to thank you for driving beau home.” he’s around the corner before you can refuse, so you shut the front door against the steady rain and slip off your shoes, leaving them beside the two pairs already against the baseboard.

you’re quick to follow him to the kitchen. the walls are a muted yellow, the countertops clear but the sink full of unwashed dishes. the refrigerator in the corner is bare save for the back to school letter you gave to each student to bring home to their parents. that—and a photograph of four men in a basement. it appears to be a homegrown band of sorts, and the man behind the drumkit is shouting at the man who looks like an overgrown string bean. you’re not sure which one is john, so you turn away, feeling rather out of place when the man at the stovetop says:

“beau’s probably in his room. he always holes himself away as soon as he gets back. doesn’t come out until supper. that’s when deaky gets home.” a pair of mugs clatter against each other as he pulls them from a cupboard. “brian says it’s just a phase, that he’ll grow out of it once he processes molly’s death, but i’m not certain.” the man’s eyes flicker to you, and he laughs, loud and short. “oh dear, i’ve done it again! i forgot you’re not in the loop. i’m freddie,” he explains. “part-time nanny, full-time diva.”

you accept the mug of tea as freddie passes it to you, a smile lifting your tight mouth. “[y/n] [y/l/n]. so you’re beau’s... nanny?”

freddie drops to the round kitchen table shoved in the space between the kitchen counter and the wall. you follow suit and stir a drop of sugar in your tea. “you could call it that. i just watch him in the afternoons, between school and deaky getting home.” he sighs. “since molly... well, things have been hard to juggle.”

“i thought mr. deacon picked beau up from school? unless that was you in the car i saw?”

“heavens no! i don’t drive!” freddie laughs again. “that was deaky you saw. he takes his break at the garage long enough to pick beau up and bring him here. i guess he and rog were overrun today. bet beau was terrified. poor dear...”

you glance over your shoulder, down the dim hallway leading to, you assume, beau’s bedroom. there’s a half-full laundry basket deposited outside another open door, perhaps the bathroom. a few mislaid toys litter the carpet. it’s reassuring, knowing that beau has a few good men in his life, willing and ready to raise him. still, there’s a pervading sense of loneliness throughout the bungalow. you saw it in the photos on the living room wall, but it’s here too: in the dead roses, brittle to the touch, in the table vase; in the index-card note tucked on a notch in the cupboard, the feminine handwriting unreadable from your spot at the table.

freddie’s voice is somber when its breaks through the thick air. “complications of pneumonia,” he says, following your gaze to a wedding photo on the hallway wall. “it came on quick but didn’t last long, thank heaven.”

unbidden, tears prick the corners of your eyes. you’ve never felt more like an intruder—and you know why.

your crush on john deacon is misplaced. you see that now. realizing what you’ve done in coming here—twist a child’s terrified moment of abandonment for your gain—makes you sick to your stomach. what kind of person are you? assuming a recently widowed father would be at all interested in his son’s pesky teacher? the thought brings a flush to your cheeks, and you rise from the table all too fast. the mugs of tea wobble when your knee connects with the underside of the table.

freddie frowns at you. “you okay, love?”

“i—” how to explain yourself without sounding a total fool or heartless woman? “i think i’ve overstayed my welcome” is all that comes to mind, and you aren’t surprised when freddie uses his foot to push your chair back out from under the table.

“sit down. john will be home soon. let him thank you then you can go.”

from where you stand, you look to your right. the front door practically screams for you to politely decline freddie’s insistence and high-tail it to your car, to get out while you still have the chance. but he’s making it too easy to stay for what you’ve come for: a peek at the illusive john deacon. you know you should go, that you should leave well enough alone, but despite your best intentions, you find yourself sitting down again and allowing freddie to bombard you with questions about teaching life.

half an hour later, when your sides hurt from laughing while freddie regales you with the dramatic story of beau’s birth, the door to the garage opens and closes with a loud click. you twist in your seat, arm draped over the back, and bite your lip hard to keep from drawing in a sharp breath.

by god, he’s a stone-cold looker. better than you could have imagined.

john deacon stands in front of the garage door, his head of tight curls wet from the rain. he’s tall but not towering, his shoulders made broad by the leather jacket across his back. he hasn’t noticed you or freddie as he’s too preoccupied with wiping the grease on his fingers across a piece of soiled cloth. he turns, not towards you, but towards the hallway when beau tumbles out of his room with a shout of joy. beau races down the hall, his arms extended, and jumps into his father’s waiting embrace. john mumbles something in his son’s ear, ruffling his hair, before dropping him back to the ground. the sullen little boy jumps around his father’s feet, chattering in great detail about his day at school, though he forgoes mentioning his father’s absence in the car-line.

you exhale, a wash of new tears covering your eyes as you stare at beau. he can be happy. you’d thought it impossible.

you must have exhaled louder than you thought because john looks over at the sound. his brow tightens in a frown of confusion, his eyes flicking back and forth between yourself and freddie, but freddie is quick to explain. he stands from the table and takes your hand, pulling you to your feet.

“deaky, this is [y/n] [y/l/n], beau’s teacher. remember you spoke to her on the phone?”

your cheeks heat at the thought of him mentioning the phone call beyond the walls of the auto-shop. warmth spreads over your face even further when he gives you a tight-lipped smile and extends his hand. you slip your fingers over his palm, and he shakes your hand.

for a moment, your hands linger as john glances at beau, who is tucked behind his leg. he cringes, groaning. “please tell me you didn’t go out of your way to bring beau home today?”

you drop your hand from his and clasp your fingers before your waist. scrunching your nose, you tilt your head to the side. “well...”

“bloody hell,” john murmurs. he screws his eyes shut and runs a palm down his face. “i’m sorry,” he says. “you shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“it was no trouble, really. in fact, you live on my way home.” the comment isn’t a falsehood. you’d realized as beau pointed his way home that your flat lie only a minutes down the road. just as it had then, the realization sends a nervous clench to your stomach now. the thought of the deacons so close...

“you must think me a horrible father.” as he says this, john reaches around to smooth his hand across beau’s back. the gesture, done mindlessly, almost makes you laugh. how could anyone find him a horrible father?

“absolutely not, mr. deacon.”

the corner of his mouth twitches upward in something close to a smile. “john, please.”

you roll your lips together and blink rapidly to keep your eyes from going wide. john. “lots of people miss the car-line. it happens more often than you think.”

“well, let me give you something for your trouble.” he slides past you, the scent of cologne and car oil in his wake. his movements are stiff, hampered by beau who insists on clinging to his father’s leg, his ankles crossed over john’s foot.

“i don’t want anything, john.” you almost trip over his name. it tastes good, strong and steady. god, you’ve got it bad. “it wasn’t a hassle.”

john ignores you as he slides open a kitchen drawer. unsatisfied with its contents, he reaches for another before meeting your eyes with a wry smile. “all we’ve got is take-out menus anyway.” he shuffles nearer, beau still heavy on his leg. “thank you, ms. [y/l/n], for bringing him home. i got sidetracked at the shop and—” he sighs. “anyway, just... thanks.”

“again, you’re welcome—and call me [y/n].”

there’s a moment where you’re simply staring at one another, the room around you lulled to a comfortable silence. john is handsome, of this there is no doubt. perhaps he’s not striking in a classical way but you’re sure someone would have killed to chisel a bust of his face during the sixteenth century. it’s regal and sure in all the right places, but soft where it counts: around the eyes. when he chuckles at something freddie says, his eyes fold around the edges, and your heart all but gives out.

“what do you say, [y/n]?”

“sorry?” hopeful no one caught you ogling, you bring your attention front and center, turning to freddie. his proposal dawns on you a second too late to be anything but obvious. “stay for dinner? no, i can’t do that.”

“why not?” freddie reaches out to pinch your forearm. “it’s our way of saying thanks, and neither of us will try to poison you with our cooking. we’ll just have brian bring something ‘round.”

you shake your head and scoot around freddie to lift the handbag hanging from a kitchen chair. “i’d like to, but i’ve stayed too long already. perhaps another time.”

prying beau from his leg, john trails behind freddie as you make your way to the front door. freddie wishes you well, reminding you to drop by any time, and john simply lifts his hand in a motionless wave. on the front stoop, hair tangled around your face by a sharp wind, you lean your torso across the threshold.

“mr. deacon—i mean, john,” you say quickly, willing your voice to sound stronger than you feel. “if you’d like, i can drive beau home in the afternoons. i live not five minutes from here, and it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

john hesitates. beau stands in the kitchen, his head poked around the corner. john looks over at his son then back at you. “that’s a kind offer, but i like coming to the school.”

your eyes flick to beau, to his round, soft face and intelligent eyes. yes, if you were his mother you’d enjoy coming to pick him up too.

with a nod, you retreat into the wind. “well, the offer still stands.”

as you slide into your car and pull out of the driveway, waving to beau who now stands in the doorway, you hope against hope that john will accept the offer one day—just so long as it means you get to see him again.

he calls during the middle of show-and-tell. you nearly forgo the call as abby sinclair insists on lifting her pet toad for all to see and you’re worried she’ll drop it, but you’re waiting for a message from the front desk—missing package again—so you pick up on the last ring.

“hello?”

“hi, ms. [y/l/n]. it’s john deacon. is this a bad time?”

“oh, mr. deacon!” you wince at the delight coloring your voice and tear your eyes away from abby, who has handed her toad off to max. “i was expecting a call from the front office.”

he snorts out a rushed laugh. “sorry to disappoint.”

you brush a lock of hair behind your ear. “no, not at all.” out of the corner of your eye you catch max squeezing abby’s toad between his palms, and you push the phone away from your ear. “oy! max, knock it off! abby, please put the toad back, dear?”

john is chuckling on the other end of the line when you return to the call. “sorry,” you say. “show-and-tell.”

“i know. beau was excited this morning.”

with a smile, you glance at the boy in question. “he did very well. everyone was impressed with what he brought.”

“brian made that for him as a birthday gift, so he can’t take any of the credit.”

“he didn’t! he explained who made the planets, but he did want to be clear about who painted the stars.” you hesitate, the sound of laughter over your shoulder reminding you not to get too entangled by the sound of john’s voice. “is there something i can do for you, mr. deacon?”

“right, yes. well, it’s a bit awkward... do you remember a few weeks ago when you drove beau home?”

you nod, the memory lifting from your heart with ease. how could you forget? you only replay the evening like a film every night before you fall asleep. “of course”

“do you remember offering to drive him home again?”

“yes.”

“i’m in a jam at the shop and can’t leave this afternoon. would you mind? taking him home, that is.”

you answer without hesitation. “i can do that. it’s not a problem.”

“you’re a life-saver. it’s just with freddie not driving... i guess what i mean to say is thanks. it helps me out a lot.”

“i’m happy to do it, john.”

“i promise i’ll make it worth your while this time. proper take-out and all.”

“you really don’t have to do that,” you say, hoping he does anyway.

“no, freddie will insist. i’ll let you get back to class for now. thanks, [y/n].”

“don’t mention it. good luck with your jam at the shop. i hope it’s cleared up soon.”

“me too. all the sooner to get back to beau—and you.”

he hangs up before you can respond, and you’re left with your jaw scraping the floor and your heart in your throat.

all the sooner to get back to you.

the words circle your head like a drug for the remainder of the day. you can barely focus as you teach, stumbling over your words and through math equations and spelling tests.

surely he didn’t mean it like that. he probably just tacked you on at the end of the sentence in his haste to get back to work. he probably wasn’t thinking when he spoke.

but, by god, you were listening.

you’ve never been so head-over-heels for a man in your life. each day when you wake up with john at the forefront of your mind, you wish for a morning where you can stay in bed and dream of him all day—his voice, his smile, his gentle way with beau. it all makes you crazy. ami calls your fascination puppy love and claims it will fade with time, but you wonder if it’s gone deeper. you’re interested in more than john deacon’s looks. you’re interested in what makes him tick and whether or not he’s in a band with the three other men who constantly appear in every conversation you share and whether or not he misses his wife and what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning. you what to know him and be known by him.

all the sooner to get back to you.

perhaps it’s wishful thinking—a dreamy idea on the part of a lovesick woman—but part of you wonders if he feels the same way about you.

driving beau home becomes part of an unspoken routine. after sharing dinner at the deacon household that second evening, john admits when walking you to your car how overwhelmed he can feel between his job at the auto-shop and his responsibilities with beau. with a tentative hand on his forearm, you promise you’ll help lighten the load. he thanks you by squeezing your fingers with his, and then he’s gone.

it begins by driving beau home every monday, wednesday, and friday. you enjoy your time with him. as soon as he settles in the back seat of your station wagon, he comes alive. the protective shell he wears in the classroom is replaced by the bright and earnest eyes of a seven year old boy, curious about the world and all it has to hold. he asks you questions and tells you stories, and you laugh as you watch the light dance in his eyes. he’s a sweet child, and you truly treasure the afternoons you spend with him.

one friday, you drop him off and find the cozy bungalow empty. beau has stopped retreating to his room once returning from school—at least, this is what freddie tells you—so you’re not completely surprised when beau invites you in for an afternoon snack. you are surprised by the empty house, however. freddie is nowhere to be seen and neither is john. what concerns you even further is when beau opens the refrigerator and slams it shut with a huff.

“nothin’,” he mutters, slumping to the table with a groan.

“what?”

“there’s nothing in the fridge.”

“what do you mean by that?” you cross the floor and open the fridge, hoping beau’s comment is nothing more than a hungry child displeased with the array of choice and nothing to his liking, but you find his statement to be true. the fridge is woefully stocked—naught but a half-filled carton of orange juice, three apples, and a sandwich wrapped in tinfoil. you glance over your shoulder. “is it always like this?”

“no.” beau circles about on his chair. “but it’s happened a few times since dad and uncle rog got more busy at the shop.”

“well, that won’t do. grab your shoes, beau, we’re going to the market.”

once returned from your grocery run, you teach beau how to make spaghetti. he stands beside you on a stool, pushed up on his toes as he watches you prepare the boiling water and pasta. as you wait for the pasta to soften, you set about crafting a homemade pasta sauce. it’s your mother’s recipe, and it’s easy to make. easy enough that you allow beau to carefully slice the tomatoes under your supervision and dice the onions and sprinkle the spices.

the kitchen smells like your childhood: fragrant yet simple, sweet and comforting. somewhere in the waiting for the sauce to simmer, beau turns on a radio and draws you to the center of the kitchen. he holds your hand tight and kicks his feet to the music. you laugh and mirror his movements. he grabs your other hand and steps on his stool, forcing you to bend in an awkward twirl around his finger. you struggle but complete the movement, though he attaches himself to your shoulders like a barnacle. you whirl around on your socked feet in attempt to toss him off, but he holds tight, his fingernails digging into the skin of your collarbone. he squeals in your ear, a mixture of laughter and gasping breath and shrieks.

“mama, mama, stop!”

he says it without thinking, his head lolling against your shoulder as you stop short at the sound of his breathless voice. he giggles against your back then releases himself and slides to the floor. you stare at him, feel his words in the back of your throat like an uncomfortable burn, and then you hear the garage door shut.

you swallow hard and force your eyes from the yellow-and-white linoleum floor. beau hops from his stool, sauce-covered spoon in hand, and rushes to his father’s side.

“daddy, look, we made dinner! miss [y/l/n] and me!” he tugs on john’s shirtsleeve, but john’s just staring at you, his face unreadable. beau turns to one of the other three men crowding the hall behind john. “uncle roggie, taste it!” he forces the spoon in the face of a mulleted blond.

eager to break the thick tension, you motion to the spaghetti. “i—there wasn’t anyone home so...” your sentence trails off, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

so many eyes on you. you feel exposed against them all, caught in a domestic moment with a child that’s not your own in a home that’s not your own.

john looks over his shoulder, eyes flashing in anger. “fred?”

freddie winces. “about that, deak.” he rubs the back of his neck and glances at beau. “i can explain later.”

“you’d better,” john mutters.

“i should go,” you say at once, hastily grabbing your things from the table. your keys jingle in your hand with the force of your anxiety, and you stub your toe against the floor in your hurry to put your shoes back on.

john’s hand on your arm stops you. you look up, stooped as you try to slip the back of your sandal over your heel. he looks down at you, face still remarkably unreadable. “no, please stay,” he says. “you made supper.”

you shake your head and rise to your full height. “i’ve intruded enough already.”

you’re embarrassed, too. the gaggle of men heard beau’s slip up; they heard him mistake you for his mother—and certainly they saw the immediate flush of happiness rise over your cheeks at the sound.

mama. you’d always hoped, always wished, someone would call you that one day. you just didn’t think you’d hear it from a student with a deceased mother and a father you pined after first.

“[y/n], stay.” john’s voice is soft, breathy, and his eyes flit back and forth between yours with a startling amount of intensity.

how can you say no?

once the dinner has been divided, you sit beside john on the couch in the living room. the kitchen table is too small to host the gathering, so the living room was deemed appropriate just this once, to beau’s great delight. he sits on the floor at the coffee table, a tall glass of milk beside his plate of pasta, his eyes bouncing over everyone in the room with unrestrained joy.

“beau, why don’t you introduce everyone for miss [y/l/n]? she doesn’t know all your uncles.” john nods to his son in encouragement, and beau is only happy to take the job.

standing, beau crosses first to the impressively tall and curly-haired man sat beside him on the floor. “this is uncle brian. he likes space and teaches all the big kids at uni.”

he moves to freddie, who sits on a plush armchair. “this is uncle freddie, but you already know him.”

the last man leans against the foyer table, his ankles crossed and sunglasses still perched on his nose. beau pats his arm. “this is uncle roger and he works with daddy.” in a stage whisper, he adds, “he thinks he’s a lot cooler than he really is.”

roger guffaws and lightly pushes beau’s head to the side. “oy, you twerp, take that back!”

glancing about the room, you nod in greeting. “it’s nice to meet you all. i’ve heard quite a bit.”

brian smiles at you from the floor. his legs are bent awkwardly beneath the coffee table, and you’ve noticed the way he helps beau cut his side salad and keep sauce from dripping to the area rug. “all good things i hope?”

“oh yes, of course.”

“[y/n], dear, you really must tell brian what that student of yours did last week,” freddie pipes up. “it had me laughing well into the night. i’m sure some of his twenty-year olds are much the same.”

“i shouldn’t, fred.” you look at beau, who is watching you in interest.

freddie nods in understanding and tugs on his earlobe. “little ears, yes. maybe another time.” he pushes brian’s shoulder with his foot. “really is a riot of a story.”

as supper progresses, conversation twists and turns down different avenues. you explain how you came to teach in the area and find you used to work with one of brian’s newer colleagues. freddie tells the group about his recent run-in with an angry bird watcher in the park. his gestures are so grandiose he whacks roger in the chest, who has come to sit on the arm of fred’s chair. there’s more laughter than there is silence, and you settle back in the couch. at one point, john drapes his arm over the back of the couch—not around your shoulders, but close enough to send your heart into overdrive. it’s all you can focus on—the proximity of his muscular arm behind your head—as brian explains to beau the difference between the big and little dippers. even as roger describes the ramshackle band they four participate in on the weekends, you barely register the words because you swear to the high heavens you feel john’s pointer finger purposefully brush against your shoulder.

beau begins to yawn sometime near the eight o’clock hour, and you jump from the couch when you realize you’ve stayed so late.

“good lord, i’ve got to go!” you shuffle about the room, gathering your belongings, as john rises behind you. “i didn’t know it was so late!”

his hands are in his pockets, and he studies you as you put your shoes on. “got a big date tomorrow?”

you frown. “no,” you say on a laugh. “i’ve actually got breakfast with my mum.”

he looks away for a moment, but you can’t help but note the edge of a smile.

he grabs his jacket from the coat-stand when you’re ready. “i’ll walk you out.”

at the door you wave to the others. “good night, all! it was nice to meet you.”

roger tips an imaginary hat. “i’m sure we’ll meet again, [y/n], if deaky has anything to say about it.”

freddie kicks the back of roger’s leg, and the injured man doubles over in a yelp of pain. “you fucker!” freddie mutters. “you know that—”

john ushers you out the door before you can see or hear any more.

the night air is chilly, and you warm your arms around yourself. you reach for your keys in the depths of your purse and slide them into the lock on the driver’s side of your car. it’s dark out. you can barely make out john’s features beneath the light of the moon, but when he shuffles to the side, an automatic flood light turns on above the garage. you blink against the sudden light and smile, chuckling beneath your breath as your vision adjusts. you’re not eager to leave quite yet, and he doesn’t seem eager to send you away, so you both stand, looking at one another in the darkness of the drive.

“your friends are nice,” you say.

he hums in agreement. “m’yes, they are. we just started as a screw-around band a few years back, but when molly got sick...” he pauses, clasps his hand on the back of his neck, and shrugs. “they’ve been my lifeline, y’know?”

“i can’t imagine what that was like, losing her. i’m glad you had them around.” you suck in a deep breath. “about earlier... i didn’t know beau was going to say that, and i’m sorry it happened. i realize that my... involvement might appear to be me wheedling my way into your family, but that’s not it, really! i mean, i like you and beau—as friends—but i’m not trying to...” you sigh, shaking your head. “i’m sorry it happened ‘s all. i don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

before you know what’s happening, john’s reaching out to cup your cheek. his smile is soft in the glow of the moon and the floodlight, and your heart stops in your chest.

his thumb brushes over your cheekbone. “i haven’t seen beau that happy in a long time. you’ve brought a lot of joy back into the house, [y/n].”

you’re sure you’re sweating despite the chill of night. you shake your head, but his hand holds fast against your face. “no,” you whisper. your voice sounds heady, even to your own ears. “beau’s just a good kid.”

“yes, and you’re a good teacher.”

is his face inching closer? you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

“a good teacher and a good person.”

if it weren’t for your firm hold on the car door handle, you think you might slip to the ground in a puddle of goo.

his lips are on yours, then, and you fall into his arms as he holds you against himself. you have dreamt of this moment far too many times to count, but you never thought it would happen. really, you thought you would finish the year without ever knowing the taste of john’s deacons lips.

but there he is, and there you are, and he tastes like the wine he drank during supper. he is more eager than you thought he would be, and soon he has your back pressed against the door of your car. you huff into his mouth and feel your eyes roll back into your head when he drags his lips across your jaw, inching closer to that spot behind your ear. your arms practically quiver around his shoulders, and you open your eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of a particularly bright star winking down at you.

he catches your lips again, and you feel hot and delicious all over.

“john,” you mumble against his mouth. “john.”

loathe as you are to stop the moment, you do, pushing his shoulders until he pulls himself away. his hand still cradles your hip, and he looks flushed in the moonlight. you’re sure you look equally as rumpled.

you grin. “well.”

he matches your smile, though it’s fleeting. “call you, yeah?”

unlocking your car door, you nod. “please do, mr. deacon.”

he shakes his head on a chuckle and shuts the door, waving gently as you pull out of the drive. when you’re several homes away, out of eyesight, you drift to the side of the road and blast the air conditioner. then you pound your fists against the steering wheel and let out a muffled squeal of delight.

he doesn’t call you.

when you sit down to think about it, it’s not that great of a surprise. you’ve been around him only a handful of times, and though you’ve both been comfortable in those moments, you don’t blame him for resisting whatever it is he feels for you. there’s beau to think about. you’re his teacher; surely there’s some line you shouldn’t be crossing? there’s molly too, and her memory and the years they spent together and the child they had together.

if anything, you figure he’s using you to test the waters of romance again. those stolen touches and deep stares and that kiss in the drive—it’s all just experimentation. the conclusion drawn from those experiments? he’s not ready.

you sigh, take another sip of wine. maybe you should stop driving beau. you like john; you like him a lot. and after that kiss, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. you thought about him before, but never this much. he threatens to consume your every waking moment, and it scares you because he’s not interested. desperately pining after a disinterested man means one thing: ruin. if you stop driving beau home, put some distance between yourself and the deacons, the puppy love and infatuation will fade over time.

it has to or you’ll go crazy.

it’s early evening, and your stomach grumbles. your flat is quiet as you putter around the kitchen in search of a suitable supper. there’s not much in the cupboards and even less in the fridge. you desperately need to go to the grocery store. take-out it is. withdrawing a handful of menus, you spread them out on the counter and flip through them mindlessly.

your thoughts are elsewhere. always on john.

you wonder what compelled him to kiss you. he’s an enigma, john deacon. you’ve seen him in moments of great levity—when he’s around beau or his friends or recounting a story from his youth. he has an infectious laugh, delightful crinkles around his eyes, and a quick wit. but he can be hard, too, like an immovable stone. he’s quick to toss a glare at anyone in his way in those moments of weakness, and his biting wit can turn sour at the drop of a hat. you chalk it up to weariness, those moments. weariness, loneliness, frustration. it doesn’t phase you, though perhaps it should.

with a groan, you drop your forehead to the cool counter and shut your eyes. the kiss lingers on your lips; it has the entire week since. you want him badly—in more ways than one.

the telephone rings, and you startle, clutching a paper menu to your chest. “fuck,” you whisper. you need to get a hobby other than daydreaming. pressing the phone to your ear, you barely get out a word of greeting before someone’s shouting at you on the other end.

“[y/n]? it’s fred! we’ve got a fuckin’ problem over here.”

you frown. “freddie? what’s going on? why are you are john’s? it’s a saturday.”

“no time for that! how fast can you get here?”

“well, i don’t know. i’ve got to—”

“beau’s sick! he’s on the bathroom floor, moaning and groaning and—shit!—[y/n], i don’t know what to do!”

“i’m sure it’s just a tummy ache, fred,” you say. “i see it all the time in my class. give him some pepto and he’ll be fighting fit in the morning.”

“no, [y/n]!” something in fred’s tone—a raw, animal fear—has you standing straight, your heart stuttering in your chest. “he said he feels like he’s gonna die just like molly did!”

“okay, okay.” you begin to move toward your bedroom, but are yanked back by the phone chord attached to the wall. you stumble backwards with a grunt. “okay, i’m coming, fred. just hold tight.”

“fucking hurry!”

you slam the phone down, rush to your bedroom to change from your nightclothes, and jump in the car without a pair of shoes. as quickly as you can you race to the deacon household. the sun dips low, casting an orange glow over the suburban streets lined with family cars. you grip the steering wheel tight, your heart thumping a prayer of protection for beau.

the driveway of the bungalow is empty, the garage door thrown open. the old convertible john toys with in the evenings is parked inside, but his everyday vehicle is gone. cutting the engine of your car, you run through the garage and into the house. fred stands in the hallway, pressed against the bathroom door. he looks ridiculous, clad in a bright yellow bathroom and bunny slippers, but he pounds his fist against the door, pleading for beau to unlock it and let him in. he turns at the sound of your bag dropping on the carpet.

“oh, thank god,” he breathes. he grabs your arm and wrenches you to his side. “beau, miss [y/l/n] is here. why do you talk with her, huh?”

before you say anything to beau, you frown at freddie. “where’s john?” your whisper sound harsh in the dim lighting of the hallway.

“at the shop. overtime. i can’t reach him.”

you jerk your head to the phone sitting on a side-table in the living room. “go try again and i’ll stick with beau here.” when he’s gone, you slide to a sitting position on the floor and press your ear to the thin wood of the door. “beau? beau, honey, it’s me.”

beau only groans in response.

“beau, can you please open the door? i want to help you. that’s it; just help.”

there’s a pause then you hear: “no. go away.”

“it’s okay if you’re embarrassed, beau. we all get sick sometimes. fred and i just want to help you feel better.”

there’s the sound of water sloshing and then a hard sniff. “i want my mommy.”

“oh, baby, i know.” you clear your throat to work past the lump rising to the surface. “come on, just let me in. i promise it’ll be okay.”

“but... what if i die like her too?”

“that’s not gonna happen, beau. i promise.” he doesn’t respond, so you plead once more. “please let me in.”

he shuffles to the door, unclicks the lock, and cracks it open. through the opening, you can see his pale face gleaming with sweat. gently, you push the door open further.

beau’s curled on the floor, his head bent toward his knees. his arms tighten around his stomach, and a spasm ripples through his body. he’s dripping with sweat, his star wars pajamas soaked through. hot air clogs the room, and you switch on the overhead fan. pressing your fingers to his forehead, you cringe and draw back. he’s burning up.

“beau, baby, what hurts?” you finger some of the sweat-matted hair away from his forehead.

“my tummy.”

“what’s your tummy feel like?”

beau shakes his head into the floor. “bad.”

“do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?”

“already did. on my floor.” he opens his eyes long enough to stare at you through thick lashes. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize about that. we’ll get it cleaned up later. i’m just gonna go get you some water, okay?”

he groans, shifting against another spasm of pain. “okay.”

stepping back into the hall, you grab freddie’s arm before he can slip into the bathroom. you tug him to the safety of the kitchen. his eyes dance between yours, expectant.

“well?”

“did you get ahold of john?”

“no, the fucker.”

“we’ll have to go pick him up then.”

fred’s brow twitches. “what? why? what’s wrong with him?”

you throw a glance down the hall when beau whines. “i think it might be his appendix. my dad’s burst last summer and he looked a lot like beau does now.”

“fuckin’ hell.” freddie runs a hand across his mouth. “just what deaky needs.”

you nod in agreement. “i know. we’ve got to take beau to a hospital, though, before it gets any worse.”

“yeah, yeah, i know. go get the car started and i’ll meet you in a minute.”

several minutes later, you’re en route to the auto-shop, freddie cradling beau in the backseat of your station wagon. the drive is tense, your bare foot hard on the gas pedal. beau wrestles and whines against freddie’s hold, continuously asking for his parents and where you’re taking him.

no one wants to say the word hospital, so his cries go unanswered.

freddie directs you to the auto-shop, his phrases terse, and you pull into the drive with a sharp squeal of tires on gravel. with the car still running, you hurry across the parking lot, loose pebbles catching on your feet. music blasts from a stereo within the garage. it’s loud and obnoxious and keeps you from locating john fast enough.

“can i help ya, miss?” a lithe man steps out of a side office, his hairline receding and face near gaunt.

“yes—i’m looking for john deacon.”

the man continuously wipes his hands on a dirty rag. none of the oil and grease on his fingers budges. “he’s down there.”

dirt and grime covers the bottoms of your feet as you race down the shop. cars of all varieties line the wall to your left, some stationary on the ground, others lifted towards the vaulted ceiling. there’s a handful of men at work, but you don’t recognize any of them as john. you’re prepared to start shouting his name when a familiar voice stops you.

“[y/n]?” it’s roger. “can’t get enough of our deaky, can you?” he’s chuckling as he steps out from behind a truck. “what are you doing here?”

“it’s beau,” you say, and his face falls.

“over here.” roger wastes no time in finding john beneath a volkswagon beetle. only john’s legs are visible, his knees bent and leather boots firm on the floor. he curses when roger hooks the toes of his shoes around a curve in the sliding plate on the floor and drags john out from under the car.

“what the fuck, rog? i—” john stills when his eyes land on you. his muscle tee is loose over his chest, and a line of grease mars his forehead. he swallows. “[y/n]... i...” he sits up. “i’ve been meaning to—”

though you’re curious about the end of his sentence, you cut him off. “beau’s sick. we’ve got to take him to hospital.”

the blood drains from john’s face in an instant. the wrench in his hand clatters to the cement ground, and he’s grabbing your elbow, pulling you toward the exit, before you can say anything more.

“crystal, i’m gone!” he shouts, practically shoving you in the direction of the car.

there’s either no reply or you don’t hear it because john shouts for freddie to move the fuck over and give him beau. you slide behind the wheel and pause, twisting to catch a look at the scene in the back.

beau looks like a newborn swaddled in his father’s arms. his face is wet with tears and sweat, and he sobs in his father’s grasp. john feels beau’s forehead and frowns, muttering an oath under his breath. then his eyes flick to yours.

“what are you waiting for? go!”

you don’t need to be told twice.

it’s another fifteen minutes before you reach the hospital. your head throbs under the stress of it all: beau’s pitiful moans for help, john urging you to go faster, freddie barking directions as he slaps the headrest behind you. before you’ve pulled to a complete stop, john is out, beau in his arms. you shoo freddie after him.

“go! i’ll park the car.”

by the time you’ve found a parking space and picked your way across the parking lot, beau’s been admitted for emergency surgery. his appendix, as you suspected. it’s a routine procedure, and he’ll be fine within the next hour. relief floods your system at the news, and you find john and freddie sitting beneath a large fish tank in the waiting room. you take the open spot beside john and cross your ankles.

“your feet are disgusting,” fred says. he points to the bottoms of your feet, dark with dust, dirt, and grime.

you shrug. “forgot shoes.”

the quiet of the waiting room is both a comfort and annoyance. a clock on the wall ticks loudly, and the fish tank bubbles at an uneven rate. every breath you take feels too loud, and the antiseptic smells cling to the inside of your nose.

still, the quiet gives you a moment of rest. you catch your breath. you let the knowledge of skilled and capable doctors working on beau ease your heart-rate. it will all be okay; he’s going to be okay.

you glance at john. his fist is pressed against his mouth, his eyes shut. his leg bounces, and you dare to reach over and lay your hand against his knee. he stills, his eyes flashing to you.

“he’s going to be okay, john.”

on the other side of john, freddie jumps to his feet. “i’m going bananas just sitting here.” he rubs the side of his head. “might burst. i’m gonna give brian a call.” he stalks away, his bunny slippers slapping against the linoleum floor.

you shake your head, biting back the urge to smile.

but then john’s fingers curl around yours, and you can’t help but give into the grin.

you look up, meet his eyes.

“i didn’t call you,” he says.

“no, you didn’t.”

he shifts in seat and looks to the floor. “you should be wearing shoes.”

at the turn of conversation, you frown then follow his gaze. “yes, i suppose.”

“take mine.” he releases your hand to bend down and undo his laces.

“no, john, don’t be silly. i’m fine.”

“please, [y/n], take the shoes.” he slides the boots toward you, and you begrudgingly slip your feet into the warmth of his shoes.

you look silly, the pair of you—your ill-fit mtv t-shirt, loose jeans, and oversized leather boots; his muscle tee with the aptly faded word muscle scrawled across the chest, his faded jeans, and socked feet. one of his toes pokes through the end of his sock, and his exposed arms look cold in the frigid air of the waiting room. you laugh.

“we look like a pair of bikers or something.”

the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “not much of a biker. that’s crystal’s territory.” he doesn’t look at you when he continues speaking. “i’m sorry i didn’t call.”

on a sigh, you drag the boots across the carpet. though it pains you to do so, you let him off the hook. “it’s not a big deal, john. it was just a kiss. no promises.”

“i know.” his head tilts to the side. “but i wanted to call you. nearly did twice, but i chickened out.” he turns, then, and meets your eye. “i like you, [y/n].”

you smile, but know it doesn’t reach your eyes. still, you reach for his hand again. “i like you too, john. i’ve enjoyed getting to know you and your family.”

he shakes his head, and when he speaks, his voice is firm. “no, i like you. that’s why i kissed you and that’s why i didn’t call. because you make me so bloody nervous.”

your shoulders drop, as does your jaw.

“ever since you dropped beau off that first time, i’ve been thinking about you and about you and him together and then he called you mum and i saw the way you acted with him and—” he pauses for a breath. “molly was different with beau. i mean, she loved him, but she was always so fragile and worried and—and that’s not the point! the point is that you make beau happy and you make me happy. and i want to be happy again.”

“john...”

his grip on your hand tightens as he leans closer. “make me happy, yeah? i’m stubborn as a mule and shy, too, but i want you—badly.”

the fire in your heart spreads at his words. it spreads throughout your body until you feel like you could burst and shine a light into even the darkest corners of the earth. a laugh bubbles forth from between your lips. you lift a hand to stifle it.

“you want to know something?” you ask.

“what?”

“i’ve been pining after you, john deacon, ever since i heard your voice over the phone. i was content to just wallow in my daydreams, but this seems better.” you lift your fingers to brush his chin. “a lot better.”

“i can’t promise i’ll make a good boyfriend. i’m pretty rusty.”

“me too. we can be rusty together.”

he grins, leans forward further, his nose brushing yours. “can’t promise there won’t be hiccups. i’ve got baggage.”

“i can carry it.”

he kisses you, his hand on the back of your head, keeping you firm against his mouth. you grin, your teeth knocking his as you laugh. his curls are soft against your fingertips, and you hold on for dear life when he chuckles into your smile.

“mr. deacon?”

john kisses you once, twice more, before pulling away to look at the doctor. “yeah?” he doesn’t sound the least bit embarrassed to be caught in such a position in the middle of a hospital waiting room, but you hide your face against his neck. your cheeks hurt your smile is so wide.

“beau’s ready to see you now.”

john stands and extends at hand. “comin’, dove?”

your footfalls are hard against the ground, the boots heavy around your ankles, as you walk with him hand-in-hand to beau’s hospital room. you lean against his side, breathe the comfort of him in, and smile.

yes, this is much better than your daydreams—baggage, boots, beau, and all.

#john deacon #john deacon x reader #john deacon fic #queen #queen fic #j writes

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