#chosen would never admit it but they do think it is kind of sweet that sc is trying to have them get along

[sweetiepoison]

Famous Baby (Blurb)

The confession

Warnings: verbal argument, angst, smut, flashbacks italicized

You were stringing every curse word you could think of in your head as your right leg shook up and down uncontrollably. Tonight was supposed to be a good night. A night of celebration and friends, but that turned south very quickly when you got to your table.

The outdoor venue that was chosen to host the drew house celebration was big. There were plenty of areas to sit or stand and seating wasn’t assigned. So it infuriated you to no end when Auston decided to sit right across from you with the beautiful blonde he brought as his date.

There was always tension between you that was predictable but the tension that was happening now was palpable and uncomfortable.

Shawn rested his hand on your leg under the table in an attempt to help you relax. You looked over at your ex and gave him a gentle smile and his hand a light squeeze of appreciation.

“So, any big plans before you guys leave LA?” Your best friend asked trying to diffuse the tension.

“Yes!” Steph picked up immediately also trying to lighten the mood, “We planned a hike to the Hollywood sign tomorrow morning.”

“That’s awesome, we’ve done that a few times and honestly the view never gets old.” Your best friends boyfriend, Ryan commented.

“Are you all going?” You asked wanting to know what Auston would be doing, especially if his plans involved his “friend”.

“Nah.” Auston shook his head, “Alexa and I are just gonna chill by the pool.” He smirked, his eyes never leaving yours, “You know what they say, nothing like the California sun.”

You hummed a response your jaw tightening. The thought of Alexa near naked next to Auston made you sick.

“Well I think we all deserve a break especially you two,” you best friend pointed between you and Auston, “(y/n), told me about all the time you put into this event.”

“Yeah, we really had to work together to make the party a success.” Auston kept his eyes on you as your chair made a screeching sound against the ground as you stood abruptly.

“You okay?” Shawn asked as all eyes at the table turned to you.

“Yeah.” You reassured, “I’m just gonna go get another drink, do you want anything?”

“No, I think I’ve had enough. Thank you though.” He smiled brightly up at you.

“Okay.” You gave his shoulder a squeeze before making your way to the bar. After you ordered you put your head down on the cool surface to try and regather yourself. You were annoyed by the emotional strain you were already feeling and the night had barely even begun.

“Almost didn’t recognize you earlier with your clothes on.” You didn’t need to turn around to know the voice whispering in your ear was Auston’s.

“Funny.” You deadpanned sitting back up, but refusing to look at him.

“Were you planning on ignoring me the whole night?”

“For as long as I could.” You admitted with a shrug.

“Don’t you think you’ve done that enough already?” Auston picked up his own drink that he ordered. “You won’t answer any of my calls, you’re ignoring all my texts.”

“Mhm” you agreed. “If you don’t see this going anywhere I don’t want to be involved.”

You both stood side by side back to the bar watching the crowd. You felt a pang of sadness in your chest watching the table you came from. As everyone interacted and laughed your eyes specifically fell on Shawn.

You could be with him if you wanted to, not him specifically but a guy like him. A sweet guy, someone who is kind and polite and treated you well. All of your ex boyfriends fit that description, they were everything you needed. Auston was the opposite. He was loud and assertive and honest, even if it hurt your feelings. He wasn’t everything you needed, but he was everything you wanted.

“That’s not what I said.”

“You told me you didn’t want me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh right you just left me there crying.”

“I didn’t ask you to catch feelings for me, in fact I made it abundantly clear that you shouldn’t.”

You weren’t sure if you regretted that night with Auston or not. The back and forth game between you two was finally over, but the last few weeks also left you lonely and missing him.

With it being the off season, Auston had the time to come to your concert in New York. After the show he joined you at your hotel before you left the next day for the next state.

The night went as it usually did, sex…cuddling…sex again…cuddling again…shower (sometimes sex in the shower). But you didn’t let the routine get past the first round. As you laid there in his arms you took the risk and asked where he saw things going. You tried to deny your feelings for as long as you could but after a while there was no point in ignoring how you felt.

“I’m over it, Auston.” You gulped down the rest of your drink.

“Are you over me?” You sucked in a breath as his fingers timidly touched yours, not fully holding your hand but close enough.

To say the night ended badly would be an understatement. You slammed the bathroom door shut after he rejected you and soon after your hotel room door was slammed shut following Auston’s exit. You’ve ignored him since that night, wanting to forget everything that happened and move on.

“Yes.” Placing your glass down on the bar you rejoined the crowd. You spent the next hour mingling with others and avoiding Auston.

“You okay?” You stood off to the side with Steph.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You twirled the small straw that came with your drink around your glass a few times.

“You just haven’t seemed like yourself.” She shrugged, “and I don’t want to assume but..” she trailed off avoiding eye contact.

“But, what? Steph.”

“But even your fighting with Auston isn’t like your usual fighting.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “Usually it’s annoyed fighting, but tonight it feels almost…personal.”

You swallowed thickly, “What are you trying to say?”

“Did something happen between the two of you?” She finally huffed out.

“No.” You shook your head, “he’s just more irritating than usual tonight.”

You watched as she processed the information but the frown she wore didn’t leave, “If there was anything wrong, you would tell me right?”

“Of course.” It felt like a knife right through the heart as you lied to her, “you’ve become one of my best friends.”

She let out a deep breath and finally smiled, “Okay, good. I’ve just been worried about both of you.”

You wanted to ask her why she’s been worried about Auston. Has he been acting different also? Had your conversation actually had an effect on him? But before any of your questions could be answered the devil himself interrupted.

“Hey Steph, could you keep Alexa company? I forgot a gift in my car and need to go grab it.”

The blond looked over her shoulder before side stepping to allow a spot for the new company to join, “of course we were just gossiping.” She giggled.

You smiled at Alexa but your eyes really never left Auston as you watched him walk away, “excuse me, I’m going to talk to one of the sound guys.”

You backed out of the group and sped walked through the crowd careful to not trip on your own heels. You caught up to Auston right as he was getting his keys from the valet guy.

“We need to talk.” You demanded latching onto his arm.

“Okay, walk with me to my car.” You walked in silence to the parking garage and once you arrived Auston unlocked the doors getting into the drivers side. “Get in.”

You slid into the passenger side crossing your arms over your chest, “what do you think your doing?”

Auston reached into his backseat grabbing a small box, “Getting Justin’s gift.”

“Not that,” you slapped the small box out of his hand back into the backseat, “you brought one of your old hookups as your date.”

“What about you?”

“Me?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Yes, you.” Auston mocked your voice, “you brought your ex boyfriend, which is way worse.”

“He’s Justin’s friend too.” You defended.

“Yeah, that’s not making it better.”

You crossed your arms over your chest,“Watching you with another girl isn’t any better for me.”

“Don’t be jealous.” Auston placed his hand on your thigh letting it slowly creep under your dress.

“I told you, we aren’t doing that anymore.” You grabbed his wrist stopping his hand from moving any further.

“You say that every time and then next thing you know we’re hooking up again and the cycle repeats itself.”

“No. I was for real last time, if you don’t want anything serious I’m done. And don’t look at me like that.” You grumbled keeping you arms crossed and eyes straight ahead.

“Like what?” Auston teased a smile playing at his lips.

“Like you actually care.”

“I do.” He responded. “I care about making you feel good.” His right hand made itself comfortable on the back of your neck and began applying pressure, “And you look really tense right now.”

“Wonder who’s responsible for that.” You sarcastically responded.

“The same person who can also help you relax.” He suggested his hand back on your thigh again, but this time you let him go under your dress.

It was pathetic how easily your body responded to him. How your head fell back against the head rest and your hips shifted toward him. Your legs spread further apart and your hand came up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck as he pushed your panties to the side.

“You’re really wet for someone who’s done with me.” He commented as he massaged your clit, spreading your wetness around.

You ignored his comment

“If you want me to stop I will, but you have to tell me.” You could only manage to shake your head, taking deep breaths while Auston’s middle finger ran up and down your slit.

“Use your words.” Auston whispered into your ear as his fingers continued to dance around where you needed him the most.

“Don’t stop.” You chocked out almost like a plea. Auston followed your command as two of his fingers started to slowly move in and out of you. He used his right hand to unzip the back of your dress. Allowing the top of your dress to fall down, he began sucking and kissing all over your chest.

You reached over the center console to stroke the growing bulge through his dress pants. However, you suddenly felt empty as Auston’s fingers thar were once inside you were now wrapped tightly around your wrist stopping you, “no, this is about you.”

He put your hand back in your lap before bringing his fingers to your lips. He watched intently as you wrapped your lips around his fingers sucking gently. Auston gave you for a hum of approval before going back to pumping his fingers in and out of you at a pace that only someone with significant wrist strength could manage.

You should’ve been embarrassed about how easily he had you falling apart around his fingers, but the feeling was nonexistent as you moaned hiking your leg up on the seat to give him more access.

You bit down on his lip hard keeping your lips connected as you came down from your first orgasm. Auston continued to move his fingers building you up for a second and then he did it again for a third. His fingers continued to move despite your pleas for him to stop.

“You have one more in you.” He encouraged kissing on your neck.

“Auston-I can’t, please.” You whined overstimulated. Auston loved to hear you beg, it didn’t matter if it was for more or for him to stop. He loved the way your voice strained and your body pulsed and his absolute favorite part was hearing the way you said his name.

Hearing you now only motivated him to move his fingers quicker and at more of angle, “Yes you can. You’ve done it before you can do it now.”

Your hips bucked up involuntarily over and over again to meet his fingers. Your body felt like it was on fire as you reached your climax and that’s all it took before you were slumping forward gripping on to the dashboard to keep yourself steady. Your body was absolutely wrecked and you weren’t sure how you were going to stand, let alone walk back to the party.

“Good girl.” Auston kissed the side of your head, finally removing his fingers. He brought them to his own lips this time sucking them clean.

“Enjoy sitting next to your hookup with me still on your fingers.” You commented through ragged breaths.

“Enjoy singing with your ex boyfriend after I just did that to your pussy.” Austons smug remark had you moving with a sudden burst of energy. You reached for your phone looking at the time as it read 7:45. “Fuck,” you mumbled as you frantically pulled your dress back up. You pulled down the passenger side mirror fixing your makeup and hair before pushing the door open.

“Where are you going?” Auston asked as he followed your lead, also getting out of the car.

“Back to the party, I’m supposed to sing with Shawn at 8:00.” You ran your hands over your dress looking at your reflection in the car window.

“I hope Shawn doesn’t remember what you look like after you get fucked.” Auston dismissed your panicked behavior locking the car before walking around to your side.

“I hope Alexa doesn’t mind sitting in the seat where you fucked me.” You threw back as he picked up your hand leading you back to the venue.

You ran straight into Scooter’s chest as you and Auston sped walk back through the side gate that led to patio.

“Woah, slow down turbo.” He joked placing his hands on your shoulders to steady you.

“Sorry, we uh went to Auston’s car to get his gift for Justin that he forgot and we didn’t realize how far away it was and so we basically ran to make it back in time and they should really give his mom a price reduction because of how far away parking is.” You rambled out of breath as you fidgeted with your fingers.

“Where’s the gift?”

“Huh?” You questioned trying to play it cool.

“The gift, that you guys went to go get. Where is it?” Scooter questioned again looking back and forth between the two of you.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You began panicking and searching for any plausible explanation as to why you didn’t have the gift.

“She told me it was stupid.” Auston spoke up clearing his own throat, “the gift, she didn’t like it, told me to return it. Ya know…how she usually acts.” Auston’s voice shook and you mentally rolled your eyes. You may have been a bad actor, but he was worse.

“Right.” Scooter nodded glancing between the two of you again for any real answers. “Well, Shawn’s getting mic’d up now.”

“Yeah I’ll go find him.” You nodded.

“I’ll go back to the table.” Auston said at the same time as you.

You both turned to leave but you turned to your right and he turned to his left causing you to bump into each other. You awkwardly fumbled around each other until you were out of the way.

“Oh and (y/n),” Scooters voice interrupted your awkward interaction “you have a hickey on your neck, might want to put your hair down to cover that up.”

Your cheeks instantly became warm as you kept your head down avoiding eye contact with both of them. “Thanks for letting me know.” You kept your head down as you released your hair from the claw clip it was in and sped walk to the side stage.

“I was starting to think you ditched me.” Shawn joked as he noticed your appearance.

“Sorry I was gone I got caught up in something.” You explained as you were handed a mic. You tucked it under your arm as you placed your inner ear ignoring the way your hands shook.

“You okay? you seem flustered.” He held onto your arm to keep you in place.

“Yeah, Im just nervous.” That wasn’t a total lie.

“I got you, it’s just you and me up there.” His sweet smile made you feel sick. Shawn tucked a piece of hair behind your ear which you quickly began to play with to ensure it didn’t move from your neck.

“You guys ready?” The sound guy asked.

“Yep.” Shawn answered for the both of you as the best you could manage to do was nod your head.

“Alright, you’re on.” He nodded placing headphones over his own ears.

The crowd applauded loudly as you and Shawn took the stage. You were very grateful to whoever’s idea it was to have you sit and perform as you perched yourself on one of the stools center stage. The crowd settled as you sat down and the anticipation built as the opening chords were played by the band.

—

The crowd erupted into cheers as you and Shawn harmonized on the final note. You held tightly onto his hand slowly opening your eyes.

“I’ve missed singing with you.” He placed a gentle kiss on the back of your hand and then kissed your temple.

“I’ve missed it too.” You agreed, pulling him into a deep hug. Your happiness, however was short lived as you looked out into the crowd and watched a body you knew all too well leaving through the side gate.

You shoved your mic into Shawn’s chest, “I’m sorry give me five minutes and I’ll be back.” You promised leaving without a response.

You sped walk through the crowd your eyes locked on the side gate. You brushed off all the praises you received from people as you passed them, your sole focus on catching up with Auston.

“Auston.” You shouted after him as you exited the gate. He didn’t turn around but kept walking.

“Auston!” You shouted again trying to catch up with him on the sidewalk. “Please stop!” You begged tugging on his arm when you finally caught up.

“What do you want?” He turned around to face you ripping his arm out of your grip.

“I want you to talk to me.”

“Oh like you’ve been talking to me these past couple of weeks?” His voice boomed above all the cars on the street.

“You hurt me.” Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

“I just listened to you sing love songs with your ex, so you hurt me too.”

“That’s not fair.” You crossed your arms, tears starting to form in the corner of your eyes. “You left me at that hotel, I shouldn’t be chasing after you.”

“I left because you slammed the bathroom door in my face.”

“Because I told you I had feelings for you and you said that our relationship wasn’t that serious to you.”

“Because I was scared!” Auston finally burst, “I’ve known I wanted something with you ksince that night at our home game when you got into a fight. But I could tell you didn’t want anything so I kept up the little game we had, but then you stayed the night and wrote the song and my feelings just got all confused.” He ran his hands through his hair letting out a deep sigh, “That night I came to your apartment to apologize, that’s all I should’ve done was apologize and then leave. But once we started, I couldn’t stop, you became addicting. And then you became comforting and-fuck-It’s you, you are all I want.”

“Auston-“ you tried to cut him off, but he didn’t let you.

“And that night you told me you wanted more, I panicked because it would mean we would finally be on the same page. And I started to imagine all the scenarios where it wouldn’t work out. I’ve never wanted to hurt you, but that night I did and I haven’t been able to forgive myself since.”

“I forgive you.” You tentively reached for his hand, “I was confused after that night at your apartment too, but I knew there was something there. And I was hurt after my New York show so I tried pushing you away. But, fuck, I can’t turn off how I feel and you’re all I think about. You are everything I want.”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you waited for him to say something, anything. The all consuming silence reminded you of your last night together. And that silence ended in both of you slamming doors and neither of you getting what you wanted.

Up until now all of your relationships for the most part had been easy, especially at the beginning. This was the most you’ve ever had to work. Was being this vulnerable scary as hell? Absolutely. Was Auston worth it? Absolutely.

Auston smiled as a sigh of relief left his lips. He pulled you in by your waist resting his head on your own, “For real?”

You giggled nodding, “yes for real. I don’t want anyone else.” The relief you felt was incomparable. It was like a weight was lifted off your shoulders and you could finally breath.

“I don’t want anyone else either.” He admitted rubbing his hands up and down your back. “I want you to be my girlfriend.” The last sentence was whispered lowly into your ear.

Your grin was enough of an answer, but still you nodded and whispered “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“I’ll be whatever you want, baby.” Auston reassured placing a kiss on your neck, followed by your cheek, and then your lips.

“Would it be totally wrong if we ditched our dates?

“Yes.” Auston confirmed, “but when have we ever been morally sound people.” He bent to pick you up causing you to squeal and giggle at the sudden change as he carried you down the street.

“That song you performed with him wasn’t even that good anyway.” You laughed at Auston’s bitter tone.

“I’ll perform some new ones for you that I’ve been working on.” You offered running your fingers through his hair.

“As long as they aren’t about another guy.”

“Nah, they’ve all been about the same guy lately” you admitted, hoping the darkness would hide your blush.

“I can’t wait to hear it then.”

#famous reader #hockey #maple leafs #nhl #nhl blurb #toronto maple leafs #celebrity reader #justin bieber #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews #party #shawn mendes #performer

[i3utterflyeffect]

Funny idea:

sc tricks chosen into hanging out with Alan in the safety room, and chosen accidentally gets so stressed that they start sparking. They have to evacuate from there.

oh GOD lmao-- alan would be so upset with sc for doing that--

i can imagine chosen just getting jumpscared by him and accidentally exploding into flame

#tommy's stickmen tag #alan afterwards is just like 'oh my god i am SO sorry i need to talk to them about not doing this' #chosen would never admit it but they do think it is kind of sweet that sc is trying to have them get along #like. they don't know better. they're just a kid who wants their friends to get along #though they are consistently startled by what a well adjusted kid they are #sc: i love my friends and i like being around alan. im so glad i get to be around him in person! i can hug him :] #chosen: how the fuck are you not alive? how did alan not immediately kill you. were you just nice enough that you made him feel bad.

[softshuji]

You're starting to believe Shion doesn't have the capacity to be mad at you,

and it makes you a little angry when you've done something wrong, and he can only click his tongue and say 'I don't mind, I'll sort it out' and he's on his hands and knees picking up the shards of the broken glass now scattered over the kitchen floor.

He might nick his own palms with a wince, but he diligently grabs the broom and sweeps the flints up before you can comment on how you should have been doing it.

He turns up with a replacement the next day and it finds a home next to the others, as if it had never happened in the first place. And he never gets mad, never yells, never speaks negatively even if you deserve it, even if you're pushing his buttons and being irritating, he can only smile.

You crash your car, you lose your handbag, you set the smoke alarm off, you get into trouble constantly and he has nothing to say except, 'it's okay, it'll be fine' and you're torn between believing maybe that he doesn't have the capacity to get mad at all with you,

or maybe he doesn't care enough to do so. Anger is passion after all, isn't that what they all say?

You've taken to doing more reckless things just to get a reaction that isn't the softhearted and loving smile thrown towards you whenever you drop something and send the pieces flying and you hate yourself a little bit every time when you know he's being so kind, and you'd be devastated if he wasn't.

That's always the thing about him- and the rules are different for you.

He doesn't take you to gang meetings often and they call him 'mad dog' when you're not around and it baffles the others (ran and Rindou especially) that his girlfriend is a sweet, innocent, intuitive thing that dotes on him every day- enough for you to send him out with home cooked lunches that don't give him stomach aches. Though he'll never admit he gets them at all, he's never really been one to complain at anything.

If anything they're a little jealous. How can someone as 'unput together' as him bag a girl like that?

You would have a mind to tell them exactly how if you ever knew that conversation had happened- but he makes a point to keep 'all that gang shit' away from you anyway. He likes your little corner, the slice of domestic life that you offer him where he can perhaps be something else, where he gets to be the man in charge for once, where you don't mind that he is sometimes hard to put up with (his words, you'd never believe that). His dear girlfriend is a saving grace at the end of the day when he kicks off his shoes at the door and heaves a big sigh, scratching his hair as he slides off his jacket and misses the bannister when he throws it onto the wood cornering the stairway.

He is too good at the centre of it all. You don't and have never felt at all ashamed of being his girlfriend, or his girl, or anything,

and the snickers don't bother you when you know who he really is and what he really means. People have always chosen to see exactly what they want to, why would this be any different?

But you can't lie and say the guilt isn't eating you at all, when you provide so little to him in the way of his life. To him, he might not be the Haitani's but to you that's never mattered. You like the simplicity of him, and duplicitous feelings have never been your forte because he's always been so upfront about his feelings for you. He likes you, he loves you, he makes it known all the time and you wonder if you really do enough when he is so forgiving and you're under no illusions that maybe he isn't like the others, but it doesn't mean another woman won't want him if he left you. He's still part of the biggest gang in the country, and you know that counts for something.

It's making you a little sick when you think about it again- the concept of him not caring enough to be pissed off at you when you deserve it, of being so quick to defend you, even when you have done something wrong.

Like today, when you're deliberately being tetchy with him, sketchy and evasive and he's prodding in the gentle way of his to find the root of the issue, and it burns you a little inside when he trails after you- a puppy following an owner- with your discarded jacket in hand, clothes kicked off and left on the floor.

'You going to tell me what's wrong or not?' he says, bending to pick up your shirt as you round the corner to the bedroom. It makes his heart quake inside when he thinks about it. Are you not happy enough with him? Do you not love him? Is he doing something wrong? If so, how can he fix this?

'Mhmmm no, no nothing's wrong,' you say airily, as if nothing is and you miss how his eyebrows crunch towards your back as you slip off the rest of your clothes and pick up your discarded robe from the tower of them on the chair.

And you hate that you're being like this for no reason, or rather a reason you can't discern in any easy way when you know he doesn't deserve this, when he's been more than attentive to you over time. You're lucky in a way few others are. When you meet with friends and they talk on and on about husbands and boyfriends that it sounds like they don't love at all- all the issues, all the nagging that you can't relate to and you curse yourself for ruining what others would kill to have, albeit unintentionally.

'You're being funny.' He folds your clothes and leaves them on the chair, filling a glass of water for you as you both pass the kitchen.

'Funny how?'

'Weird, like you're upset.'

'You think so?'

You hate the evasive game. You hate even more that he can probably see through it so easily. He's always been like that. The other's call him airheaded, but he's never forgotten a thing about you.

'I know so. Can you tell me what's wrong?'

You turn, a look over your shoulder to him in the doorway, fiddling with his hands, a little lost, a little adrift, the worried and anxious tilt of his brows matched by the bite to his lower lip and it aches inside when you know you're the cause, when it hurts because of that fact. You love him, but where is that love meant to go when you have so much of it? When you wonder one day whether he's coming back, whether he's staying or dying in another man's battle, when you know his loss would tear something in you that you could never heal.

Your mouth forms the words before you have time to catch up with it, and it comes off seamlessly when you say 'I'm sorry,' and he frowns in that way he does, his brows pinching, the slight curl of his blond hair framing his cheeks, a strand or two falling over his tattoo away from the fray.

'Huh? What for?' he says, now shutting the door behind him, your glass of water and painkillers for the headaches you get left on the nightstand.

Clockwork.

You're a fish when you open your mouth, close it again and turn wordlessly towards the dresser to pick up a hairbrush, mumbling a "nothing, forget it," that has his ears pricking up, expecting him to take the bait and leave you to sulk on your own, the kicked puppy attitude that you hate you still show even now.

His hip brushes the dresser when he comes up to you now, pulls the hairbrush from your hand with a noise of indignation at the back of your throat, before tossing it onto the bed, your wrists now encircled in his bigger hands, his thumbs finding the dips over your knuckles seamlessly.

"no."

"no?"

"no, it's not nothing, and you can tell me." A beat. "I want you to tell me." 

And your cheeks burn with heat, a fiery ice that licks at your neck when his thumbs come to rest on the incline of your wrists, a knowing look in his eyes with an eyebrow raised. And you avoid his gaze for a moment, settling it on the dresser, on the corner where the paint is chipping and the wood is exposed and he lifts a hand to tilt your head, your chin between his thumb and forefinger, till you stubbornly turn back to him with a pout.

‘Sorry,’ you say, your lip pulled by your teeth, bitten down and reddened, an anxious bite that he presses down on your lip to stop, the edge of his thumb skimming the dip in your chin. 

‘You’re saying it again without telling me what it’s for,’ he says now, hands slipping down to your waist that he pulls till it’s flush with his own. ‘I wanna know what has my Dear girlfriend so sad.’

‘I just feel stupid y’know? I’ve been shitty to you recently, and you haven’t gotten mad at me once, and it makes me feel guilty when you don’t.’

He frowns, a crease to his brows that you resist the urge to smooth over with your fingers. ‘You want me to get mad at you?’

‘Yes! I- well no, but just- don’t you get mad at me?’

‘No, why would I?’

‘Why wouldn’t you? Don’t you love me?’

He shakes his head, incredulous, a stunned and pained expression flitting over the warm apples of his cheeks. ‘Of course I love you, but what does that have to do with anything?’ His grip tightens on your hips, a slow rock and thud against his own as he smooths circles into the slip of skin between your shirt and pants.

‘Well, people get angry at who they love sometimes, and you don’t, so that might mean…’

‘That I don’t love you? Is that what you’re saying?’ he says, the inflection at the end that betrays his hurt, the worried and hushed flash of pain glimmering in his eyes where the reflection of you avoids his gaze. You don’t speak again, opting to stare at the ground, your feet, the one spot on the carpet with the immovable stain that never lifts. 

The silence seems to stretch, a quiet so loud that your ears ring with it, yawning on till he breaks it with a ‘I’m not sure who told you that but they were an idiot.’

Your head snaps up, apprehension and unease creeping along your skin. ‘What do you mean?’

And he laughs somehow, his eyes creasing, the sharp edges of his teeth revealed with the curve of a smile, lowering his head till it rests against yours, the edge of his blond hair tickling your cheek. ‘You’re so silly sometimes y’know?’

‘Huh?’ you say stiffly, a warning bell ringing lightly against your ears, a little ashamed, a little pressured despite yourself, even though you're the one who started it, you're a deer in headlights at the soft easiness of him. Maybe it would be easier if he burned through you, if he bared his fangs and bit straight into you - in the way you know would take a long time to nurse. 

And he laughs harder somehow, a little giggle that provokes your own, a light and hesitant laugh that has you prickling with self consciousness. 'What are you laughing at? What's so funny?' 

'You! You are!' And he raises his hands around your shoulders, a light shake of them as his breath ghosts over your Cupid's now, warm, sweet and scented with the undertone of menthol. You catch the reflection of yourself in the vanity to the side- you're puffy, cheeks puffed out, eyes watery, not your best by any means, especially when you angle in the way that shows the scar on your shoulder - a horrifying sight really, and you lift your cami to hide it , as if you ever can, as if it still matters this many years later.

And he softens, that glimmer in his eyes, a faint click of his tongue before you're pulled- gently still, into the warmth of his chest, your cheek squished against the soft linen of his shirt now creased from the day, your hands somehow instinctively finding purchase on his back where the muscle slips and slides underneath his skin, all sinewy flesh that feels warm and alive under your hands. 

'Y'know…..' he starts, a rumble of his voice that ruminates against your earlobe, one hand coming up to rub at your back, the other still firmly on your hip pulled flush to his. 'Sometimes I do get angry at you, but it never means anything, never changes anything.'

Your voice is a whisper against his skin, your breath curling along the exposed flesh of his arm where your lips skim across now, faint freckles and marks now pressed to your mouth. 'You do?'

'Mhm, sometimes. When you do reckless things, when you don't take care of yourself, when you don't talk about what you like because you don't think you should.' 

A hot fiery ice thunders into your veins and your neck prickles with embarrassment. 'I do that?' 

'You do. It's like you don't think you ought to take up any space, like you feel bad for wanting things.' 

'Oh.' 

'But it doesn't mean I don't love you. You're my girlfriend aren't you? Just because I don't get mad at you doesn't mean I don't love you. It's because I love you that I don't get mad.'

'But other people say-'

He pulls you back, his lips ghosting over your forehead, hands coming to cup at your cheeks, tenderly, the knuckle dusters and rings left forgotten on the bedside table. 'I don't care what people say. Loving you will never make me angry, or mad, or anything like that and whoever told you that was a loser.' 

'But…..' 

'No buts. It's either love you as you are, or lose you all together.' He shrugs, the glint of eyes now pearly and glimmering with a soft rosy shine. 'It seems like an easy choice to make.' 

You look away, a lick of heat making a slow crawl along your neck. 'Oh.' And you move from foot to foot self consciously, a hand coming up to scratch at your neck. You wonder in times like this, whether it bothers him to constantly give you this reassurance that comes so easily and often, when you doubt him and it has you shameful, and you find that he never relents in neverending love. 

Why would he? You're his dear girlfriend and that's the way he likes it.

Happy bday to my darlin' ❤️

Reblogs appreciated!

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #shion madarame #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader

[pagannatural]

1.13

-Route 666

-Sam’s hackles are up the minute Dean says they’re dropping everything to help a woman he knows. Sam is alternately irritated and amused by Dean’s trysts but he draws the line at someone else actually being important to Dean.

Sam acts exactly like a jealous wife. He says “so by old friend you mean…?” And then he crosses his arms and accuses “you never mentioned her” and “you mean you dated someone. For more than one night.”

-Sam is even angrier to find out Dean told Cassie he’s a hunter.

He looks like a scorned wife. He never told Jess, who he wanted to marry, the truth about his life shared with Dean. In the pilot, before she died, Dean challenged Sam by asking, Does she know the truth about you? She didn’t, she couldn’t know this part of Sam that Dean knows. Now Sam finds out that there is someone else in Dean’s life who knows their secrets. He’s threatened.

-Cassie is ridiculously beautiful and likable. Sam is too sweet to hold anything against her.

-Sam is paying very close attention to Cassie and Dean. He’s studying them, which means it’s really important to him to figure out what’s going on between them. He observes to Dean that she’s fearless and wouldn’t take his shit. He notices that they don’t look at each other at the same time, that they have unfinished business.

-Sam and Cassie are a lot alike. She’s educated, she stands up for herself and speaks her mind, and she’s the type to call Dean out. Dean specifically told Sam he admired the fact that Sam stands up for himself and goes after what he wants, and we know Sam challenges Dean all the time. Reporters also tend to do quite a bit of research, which is Sam’s thing. She was even in college at the same time Sam was, when she and Dean dated.

Dean met her and had the most serious relationship of his life during that first year Sam was away at college. John wrote in his journal something about Dean talking to a woman who is a reporter about Sam on Sam’s 20th birthday as they leave Athens, Ohio. Dean probably sought comfort from Cassie about missing Sam and definitely told her about him. Dean tried to fill the Sam-shaped hole in his life with Cassie.

-Dean can either have Sam or he can have a girlfriend (or he can have neither) but he can’t have both.

-Sam won’t let this go. He’s kind of teasing Dean about it but then he gets serious when he says “you loved her.” His vibe changes again when he guesses that she was the one who dumped him. He looks hurt. He probably thought he was the only one who had ever dumped Dean.

It makes him so insecure.

-Did Sam just think that Dean would never fall in love or get into a relationship? Is this the first time he’s considering that possibility?

-Sam reflects that when he was at college his life was so simple. Something about this particular case makes Sam miss when his life was less complicated, and the only thing different about this case is that Dean has feelings for someone. It would fit with Sam running away from his feelings for Dean.

-Sam coughs loudly when Dean and Cassie kiss and tells Dean to admit he’s still in love with her. Dean doesn’t. Imagine Sam’s face if he had.

-Sam watches Cassie and Dean kiss goodbye and then looks away with this expression on his face

-He asks Dean if a girl like Cassie ever makes Dean question if what they’re doing (hunting) is worth it. He also says he likes her, like he’s giving his approval. He’s doing the same thing Dean did in Hook Man, seeing if his brother wants to stay behind for a love interest.

They’re testing each other. They’re pushing to see who will leave first. Sam’s abandonment issues come from not feeling chosen and feeling left out, left on his own constantly while Dean and their dad hunted, the odd one out. It’s part of why he left in the first place. He thinks Dean needs his help, but he doubts that Dean would truly choose him when it came down to it. Before this he thought that Dean was choosing hunting over him, but now the possibility arises that he could choose another person. He thinks now that this is what Dean truly wants.

-Dean doesn’t answer Sam’s question outright. He just looks at Sam with so much love and tenderness and tells him to wake him up when it’s his turn to drive. There was never any contest.

#supernatural #samdean #wincest #spn 1x13

[sunsetkerr]

THE SHOWER | s.kerr

summary: caitlin, alannah and mackenzie have taken it upon themselves to plan yours and sam's baby shower.. what could go wrong?! [1.9k words]

pairing: fem!reader x sam kerr (sweet nora universe)

notes: trying to cheer myself up after sam doing her acl, I hope it cheers you all up too. I missed nora lots and lots.

august 2019, 3 months pregnant

IF THERE WERE THREE PEOPLE THAT you would never trust to plan literally anything, it would be Alanna, Mackenzie and Caitlin. The three of them together are like a taking time bomb that just cannot wait to go off. They are loud, messy, chaotic and almost always in disarray.

So when Sam came to you in the third month of your pregnancy and say that the three of them wanted to be the ones to plan your baby shower, you could've fainted then and there.

Sure, Sam had known the three of them for a long time. They were all really close friends of both you and Sam. Sam had been playing with Caitlin since she was 15, she was in your wedding for god's sake- it wasn't a far fetched idea to have them want to do something so big for you both. But with the three of them together, you weren't really sure how successful your baby shower would be.

You and Sam were completely shut out of the planning side of things. They told you nothing, and you mean literally nothing. Alanna had made the invites before even asking (or telling) Sam if they could plan the shower, claiming that she had an untapped passion for graphic design or something like that. All the information on there was all you got.

The shower was going to be held at your home in Perth during Matildas camp for the World Cup. That way all of Sam's teammates could be there and so could your families. A few of Sam's teammates from Chicago would fly out, Mackenzie ensuring their arrivals. By the time the shower came around you had been shunned away to Sam's parents house to get ready for your day.

Alanna had taken the liberty of finding you a dress, knowing exactly the kind of clothes that you would feel comfortable but confident in at 3 months pregnant. You slipped on your outfit and were subtly impressed with what Alanna had chosen for you.

"Wow, hello you" You couldn't help yourself but to let a smile fall upon your lips as Sam wolf-whistled at you as she came into her old bedroom. You were stood in front of the mirror, fixing up your hair before you left for the baby shower. Sam was dressed in a beige button up shirt with a pattern on it paired with some white linen shorts that you loved her in. She looked so gorgeous.

"Do you like it?" You asked, giving her a little spin.

"You look incredibly beautiful" She nodded softly as she grabbed hold of your hips and pulled you in closer. She placed a quick kiss on your lips before pulling away and hovering over them again. "Like stunning" She whispered, before kissing you again.

"I love you" You leant your forehead against hers, not wanting this moment to pass from you both.

"I love you more" She smiled.

"Are you two ready to head off?" Rox called up the stairs. You were driving in with Rox and Maddie, who were both waiting for you two downstairs.

"Yep! Give us like five minutes" Sam called back. You chuckled and leant into her embrace, leaning against her as she held you tight.

"Are you excited?" Sam said quietly, trying her best to saviour your time together before you went into a sea of people for the late morning.

"I'm more so nervous to see what they've done to our house" You closed your eyes and imagined the chaos that could only be caused by Cait, Alanna and Mackenzie.

"It's just a brunch babe" Sam kissed your forehead, already knowing what you were thinking. "Worst thing could be that they haven't put coasters out on the table" She admitted.

"It's really nice timber, Sam" You defended yourself and your over-protectiveness of your breakfast bar. Sam had it custom made for you when you said that you had always wanted one. It really was your first child in a way.

"Don't worry, I already warned Cait about the timber" Sam droned, rolling her eyes at you. "She's said she'll protect it with her life".

"She better" You raised your eyebrows.

"I doubt she would mess with Mrs Kerr" Sam smacked your bum lightly before leading you out from her childhood room and into the car.

"Oh I love it when you call me that"

You couldn't stop the butterflies in your belly from fluttering around, although you weren't sure if you baby was just moving around more than usual. The house looked amazing when you pulled up at the front. The garden had been decked out in balloons, a sign next to the front door that said 'Y/N & SAM'S BABY SHOWER' in a beautiful handwritten font.

You held your hands over your mouth in shock as you got out of the car with Sam's help. "Oh my god it looks so good," You could've sworn that there were tears welling up in your eyes.

Before you could even take it in fully, Alanna, Mackenzie and Caitlin opened the front door and cheered for your arrival.

"It looks so good!" You exclaimed, bringing all of them in for a bone-crushing hug. You were beyond impressed and far past grateful.

"We clean up nice" Macca chuckled, hugging you tightly.

"Do you wanna like have some faith in us?" Alanna laughed, rolling her eyes at you.

"I was nervous" You admitted, shrugging awkwardly.

"She was so nervous" Sam reiterated.

"Trust the process, Y/N" Caitlin said before leading both you and Sam inside.

The house looked amazing. There were fresh flowers throughout the entry way with more decorations strung up. You spied a few games set up on various tables before entering the back garden. You had to have had over thirty girls waiting for you and Sam in the back garden. Your close friends were there, as well as lots of Sam's teammates, members of your family sprinkled throughout.

You squealed as you spied some of your older friends who you hadn't had the chance to see in a while. Sam smiled as she watched you catch up with your mates, looking radiant.

"It looks just amazing guys," Sam brought the three of her friends in for a hug. "Thank you so so much" She smiled.

"We need to start charging for events I reckon" Macca chuckled.

"Oh yeah, definitely" Cait nodded in agreeance.

"So what do you need from me?" Sam asked, ready to go into mum-mode and help out her girls for the morning.

"Nothing" Cait shrugged. "Can you relax skip? It's your baby shower. Go sit with your wife and chill. Brunch will be out soon"

"How did you manage to order so much food for so early" Sam asked, the curiosity eating inside at her.

"We're making it" Caitlin said.

"Wait, what?"

You would be lying if you said you weren't nervous that Caitlin might burn down your kitchen. There seemed to be lots of raised voices coming from inside your home, majority coming from Lani telling the girls that they had been cooking the bacon for too long. A few of Sam's teammates offered their help. Emily headed in and started to bring out what was hot (and not burnt) with Steph running inside to save the day- her mimosa in hand.

Everyone was determined to not let you inside and look at the carnage you were convinced was happening in your kitchen. Instead, Sam just held your hand and distracted you by talking with your friends and family.

Soon enough, brunch was served and you were pleasantly surprised. Macca ended up coming out late to eat, still with an apron on, claiming she was just tidying up a little. You knew there was probably more than a little bit of tidying to do, and you were okay with that.

Since being pregnant, you found yourself needing more control over situations, but right now in this moment you were grateful that you and Sam had such beautiful friends who were willing to, not only put on such events for you both, but to make sure you were relaxed and enjoying yourself as they did.

After brunch the games began. Caitlin had the idea of a blindfolded nappy change race. You never thought you would see Hayley Raso facing off against Lydia Williams in who could change a baby doll's nappy the fastest. Lydia smoked her for the record.

Alanna had hidden baby photos of you and Sam around the garden for guests to find. To say you were shocked to have a picture of two-year-old sam sitting in your esky was an understatement.

Mackenzie wanted everyone to decorate a one-suit for your bub. You had Clare Polkinghorne claiming hers was the best as she drew a little tillies kit with her number on the back on hers. Sam tried her best to draw little hearts all around hers, but ended up with some red splotches more so than hearts- you loved it.

The shower went on for a while, way longer than you would have anticipated. It was an absolute hit and you were so grateful to have had to thrown for you.

As the night was winding down you found Cait, Macca and Lani cleaning up the kitchen together so you and Sam wouldn't have to.

"Hey," You said as the girls all turned around to face you. "Thank you so much for today. You have no idea how much it means to me that you guys did all of this"

"Stop it!" Macca exclaimed, reaching out to put a hand on your growing bump. "This is our niece of nephew we're talking about! Of course we wanted to do this" She gave you an extra squeeze before grabbing her dishes again to wash.

"I'm just so so happy" You looked at them all.

"So you had a good time?" Alanna asked, bringing you in for another hug.

"Such a good time" You smiled as you leant against her shoulder. You were so grateful.

"Good we're glad," She smiled at you once you pulled away, "Now get out of the kitchen so you don't combust watching Mackenzie attempt to wash dishes" She nodded over at Mackenzie who was trying her best to scrap at a pan that had definitely seen better days.

You offered them all another thank you before heading out into the garden again. You could here Mackenzie start to bicker with Alanna as you left.

"I'm actually really good at washing dishes" She defended herself.

"Not sure if that's really a brag there Macca" Lani shot back.

It became late in the afternoon before everyone had really started to head off. You and Sam were left sat in the back garden together, watching Macca, Caitlin and Lani as they picked up the last few things around the house.

"They're so good to us" You smiled, leaning your head against Sam's shoulder.

"They're good chicks" Sam nodded, never having felt so content that she did in that moment.

"Can't believe in six months we'll have a baby" You marvelled.

"Can't believe in six months our baby is going to have more than three aunties" She scoffed.

"That's on you there skip" You raised your eyebrows at her as a smirk grew on her lips.

"What can I say?" She shrugged, "I've got good teammates".

"The best teammates"

#sweet nora . * • . #sam kerr imagine #sam kerr x reader #sam kerr one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #one shots . * • .

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

yay i cant wait so excited i have been waiting for a while to read this fic. its loki or tony!

fem!plus size reader, wc: 580.

cw! insecure fic <3

a/n: i must admit that the plot got away from me on this one, the fluffiness practically poured out of my fingertips. it's been a while since i've written for loki, but it is always a pleasure doing so. thank you for your request!!

Being with Loki made you nervous, and not in the way that many people would think. 

He didn’t make you feel threatened nor was he mean, it was just that most of the time you’re around him you can’t help but sink into your head like quicksand. 

Why did he choose you when he had so many other options? Was he settling? What did other people think when they saw you guys together? Your stream of thought was almost laughable, because you knew that Loki didn’t care about what you looked like or anything trivial like that.

“What’s wrong, my love?” 

Your eyelashes fluttered, breaking your dissociative state. “Hm?” You hummed. 

“I asked you what’s wrong.” His tone was forever patient, his fingertips were featherlight against the skin of your arm. You were tucked into his side, the mood of your room domestic as a television show played pointlessly in the background. Loki was never really interested in human delicacies such as at home entertainment, he would much rather spend his free time with you.

“Oh… I’m just thinking.” Your voice was dismissive, almost like what you were saying didn’t really matter, which wasn’t true in the slightest because your boyfriend hung off of every word you said, committing it to memory.

He never forgot human holidays like christmas, birthdays or anniversaries, because those types of things mattered to you – and unfortunately he had to figure that out the hard way – but you bet your ass he never forgot it again.

“Please tell me what’s on your mind, dove.” Loki nuzzles his nose into your temple, placing a soft kiss on the side of your face. A shiver shoots itself up your spine, and the sensation makes you melt in his arms. Leave it up to him to basically pry whatever he wanted out of you.

“I don’t know. It’s stupid.” You shrug. “Nothing you say will ever be stupid.” You groan and curl into him deeper. “Fine. I just… I’m getting into that weird place in my head, you know? Like… it feels like no matter how many times you reassure me that I’m gorgeous and all this other super sweet stuff, none of it sticks. It’s like my brain can’t believe it.”

Loki sits there in silence for a moment, stewing on your words before speaking. He knew how sensitive this topic was for you, and though he was the God of Mischief, he would never make a mockery of your struggles.

“I understand you, darling. I know that through your years of being on earth, many humans haven’t been kind to you, and I out of everyone know what it feels like to be different, but –” He hooks a finger under your chin and coaxes you to look at him. 

Though your gaze is shy, you steele yourself despite the way that your cheeks heat under his touch.

“I can assure you that I have not chosen to be with you to make a mockery of you. I am with you because you are beautiful. Your soul sings to me, my dove. You are kind and your heart is unyielding. You are true to yourself and others. That is what makes you shine.”

You feel unshed tears burn behind your waterline and you scoff wetly, but you can’t fight the smile that inevitably breaks out on your face.

“Loki?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I love you.”

He laughs, and his chest rumbles with the joyous tune.

“I love you too.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

#✰ ― meau's inbox ! #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson x plus size reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader #plus size!reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader #fanfiction #fluff #good boyfriend Loki #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson oneshot #loki laufeyson drabble #loki laufeyson blurb #loki marvel #loki laufeyson marvel #marvel #marvel fanfiction

[myseungsunglove]

Only You | Ksm

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x reader

Warnings: fluff because when do I not, honestly

Word Count: 800

𖠫Summary: an honest conversation with your best friend sometimes results in surprising revelations.

✎A/N✎: I swear to god I just keep writing when I’m sleepy. That’s when inspiration strikes and it’s never what I’ve already outlined. Anywho, have another unplanned little Drabble because who needs plans anyway? I also didn’t want my first fic of the year to be the horribly painful, angst Bang Chan fic I’m working on. 🥺

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

「© January 2, 2024 by myseungsungheart」

“Do you ever think about dating?” you ask, laying in the bed all cozy facing your best friend.

“Dating? With our job? You’re a riot, you know that?” Seungmin deadpans.

“So you don’t even entertain the thought?” you ask, a little surprised.

“We’d never get a moment's peace,” he relents. “It’s kind of something we accepted when we became idols, I think,” he smiles at you, his eyes searching your features trying to understand where this conversation was coming from.

“Hmmm,” you respond, your brow furrowed. In honesty, you’d only really ever thought about dating one person. Kim Seungmin. You’d loved him for a while now, but like he had mentioned, dating in the industry was a crazy thought. And there is the small problem of him only seeing you as a best friend, but that was neither here nor there. Tonight, as you lay in the bed next to Seungmin, all you can think about is what it would be like if you had chosen a different life. If you had met Min and you were interested in each other. What it would be like to be wrapped in his arms and kissing his sweet lips.

“Have you thought about dating?” he asks, scooting a little closer to you.

“No, not really,” you lie.

“Now why don’t I believe that?” he teases, his eyebrow quirking up.

“Shut up,” you groan, rolling onto your back and rubbing your hands over your face. “I’ve really only ever thought about dating one person, but know it’s hopeless really,” you admit reluctantly.

“One person hmmm?”

You steal a glance at him and he is staring at you and somehow he has gotten closer. When did that happen?

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” you mumble, his stare making you hyper aware of his body only inches away. You roll onto your side, your back to him.

“You know,” he whispers, his lips now close to your ear as his arm snakes around your waist and pulls you back against him. “You’re really the only person I’d want if I had entertained the thought.”

His confession surprises you, your heart racing in your chest. You turn your head to look at him, your eyes meeting briefly as he glances at your lips then back into your eyes. He leans in and presses his soft lips to yours and it’s as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. You roll over completely then, your hands falling on his neck and you hold him against you, kissing him with fervor.

“Please say I’m the one person,” Seungmin smiles against your lips. “Cause I’ll be that one person. Even without a moment’s peace, I swear to god if it’s you, I can do absolutely anything.”

You roll on top of him then, straddling him before leaning in and kissing him passionately.

“You’re the only one, Min,” you breathe against his lips. “I’ve wanted you for longer than I care to admit.”

“Well,” he manages, your forehead leaning against his. “That makes two of us.”

You pull away and look into his eyes, and they’re big and round, and god they make you weak.

“Why’d you say you don’t think about dating?” you ask, your brows knit together.

He licks his lips, his eyes flitting between yours as he formulates his thoughts.

“I didn’t want to give the impression that I think about other people when I don’t,” he admits. “I’ve always known dating would be hard and that, at the end of the day, if I was going to go through that, you are the only person who would ever be worth it.”

“Min” you breathe, emotions rising up in your throat as you fight off tears. “Seriously?”

He chuckles. “Give me some credit, y/n-ah. I’m nothing if not serious,” he smiles before kissing you once more. The kiss is slow and meaningful. Laced with unspoken words. It’s intoxicating in the best way. “Let me take you out,” he says, pulling away from your lips, his eyes round but determined.

“We go out all the time,” you laugh.

“Fair. But this time you’ll be my girlfriend which makes it new and exciting. We’re always affectionate, so we won’t necessarily even have to hide much,” Seungmin says matter of factly.

“Except maybe the kissing part,” you say, kissing him quick, a smile spreading across his lips when yours meet his.

“Yeah, except maybe that,” he agrees. “So is that a yes?”

“Yeah,” you smile at him. “Guess my best friend is now my boyfriend, eh?”

“Two things can be true at once,” he smiles.

#stray kids x reader #seungmin x reader #Kim seungmin Drabble #Kim seungmin one shot #Kim seungmin fluff

[agentmarcuspike]

marcus pike x gn!reader

– written for PMAMC24

summary: marcus asks you for something he's wanted for some time... cws: pegging, use of a strap-on, reader doesn't have a penis, anal fingering, rimming, showering together, established romantic relationship (2+ years), lots of lube, wet wet wet (not the group), sweet sappy romance, cum play (?), coming untouched, pet names (baby, darling, good boy), begging a lil bit word count: 2.2k

“Do you love me?”

You’re on the couch with your legs resting in Marcus’ lap when he asks you. He’s been rubbing your feet absentmindedly for a while, his thighs unusually tense under your calves, and the question seems to come out of nowhere. It’s not like him at all to doubt your feelings for him, so you sit up to look at him when you answer.

“Of course, baby!” Your hand rests on his shoulder, and you squeeze it lightly. He squeezes your foot back, but his eyes still examine the carpet. “Why?” 

A heavy sigh escapes him when he finally looks at you, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. The warmth from his face almost reaches yours. 

“Even if I asked you something weird?” 

“Yes, Marcus, I’d still love you if you were a worm,” you jokingly comfort him. 

He laughs. “Good to know,” he says, no longer avoiding your eyes.

A few more seconds pass before he speaks again.

“A different kind of weird this time. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about lately… Don’t get me wrong, I’m not dissatisfied with our sex life or anything!” You raise your brows. So that’s what this is about. “There’s just something I’d like to try. If you’re up for it.”

You agree of course, there’s nothing to complain about when it comes to your intimate moments. It has never, during your two years together, gotten boring, monotonous, or uninteresting. You’ve tried out a few things, some kinks you’ve been curious about. A little bit of this and that. But you can’t imagine what Marcus would be so embarrassed to ask you for.

“Sometimes when we’re fucking…” he begins. Just hearing him say the word excites you. “I get a little jealous of you,” he admits after a pause.

You take a second to let it sink in. “Jealous?! Of me…?” Brows knit tight, you search his face for information. “While we’re fucking…?” 

Marcus throws his head back on the couch with a groan and grabs your legs, shaking them a little in frustration. “I thought this was a safe space!” 

You lean forward then, grabbing his face with both hands, kissing him on the lips. “It is! I’m sorry, it is! I just don’t understand!” you share with a laugh. Pulling away, you make sure he looks at you before you continue patiently, “Tell me more, please.”

“Well… I think it’s that, sometimes I wish I could have you inside of me the same way I’m inside of you. Don’t get me wrong, I love being inside of you,”

“Mm, I love that too,” you tease. 

“But I guess I wanna… I want to feel you. Inside of me. Everywhere, really, there’s nowhere I don’t want you, but…” He drifts off. 

“Marcus…” you begin. “Do you want me to peg you?”

“It sounds so unsexy when you say it like that.”

“Sorry. Marcus, do you want me to fill you up? Fuck you as good as you fuck me?”

“I do, I want that.” 

A few days later you both feel prepared. Finding a strap-on together, picking the lube, reading up on how to prepare. It’s all made you more and more excited, and when the night you’ve chosen finally arrives, the tension between you is almost thicker than it was right before your first time together. 

The evening starts off in the shower, where you help each other scrub down. 

Marcus’ skin is warm and soft against yours when you lie down beside him in bed. You trace a drop of water on his chest that has yet to dry with your finger, from his clavicle and down to his belly button, where it makes a little pool. A shiver runs through Marcus at the caress. His hair is still damp as you run your hands through it. Slow kisses turn more desperate, and you grab at each other everywhere but the places that scream the loudest for attention. 

When your hand eventually makes its way down to his groin he’s already hard and leaking precum. His breath hitches as you pump him lazily, a pained groan escaping him as his hips lift off the mattress to hurry your movements. 

His eagerness to have you in him is electric. Goosebumps on his skin tickle yours, and you swallow every sound he makes, your open mouth hovering over his. Once his eagerness turns to desperation, you lean in to whisper, lips brushing the shell of his ear: “Wanna take my time with you.”

Teasingly slow, not breaking eye contact, you make your way down the bed, and settle between his legs. You bend down, placing a kiss on his belly, nose brushing through his pubes as you move downwards. With careful hands, you slowly guide his thighs further apart until you have all of him open before you.

With the tip of your tongue, you shower his tight hole with little kitten licks, letting your tongue glide all the way up to his balls every now and then, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin. Stroking, touching, caressing every inch of skin you can reach, Marcus writhes under your touch, pushing himself into your face, wanting you closer, closer still. His cock twitches above you, so you reach a hand up to touch him. His hand shoots down to wrap around yours, speeding up your movements. 

“Slow, baby, slow,” you encourage. Your suggestion is only met with a whine.

“Are you so desperate for me to fill you up? Such a needy boy tonight?” 

His voice is hoarse with anticipation when he whispers a helpless “yes”. 

In no rush at all, you sit up to open the bottle of lube which lies ready on your nightstand. The transparent gel is cold on your fingers and you squeeze a generous amount onto your middle and index fingers before you turn back to Marcus. You press yourself into his side, chest flush with his bicep. Softly, slowly, your mouths find each other again, and your hand makes its way down. 

“Spread more for me, honey,” you instruct into his mouth. His thighs fall apart, and your fingers find his opening. You paint tiny circles, spreading the cold lube, pressing in ever so slightly. Marcus jumps a little at the contact, but soon he’s putty in your hands, losing himself in the feeling of your fingers gliding into him, slowly but surely. The first two knuckles of your middle finger are fully sheathed in him when you add more lube, making the transition to two fingers easier. 

The way he squeezes around your digits, warm and pulsing, is almost intoxicating, and you suddenly understand his jealousy. There’s no way for you to be closer to him than you are right now. He knows your insides, you know his. If you could, you’d open up his chest and crawl inside. Instead, you bury your face in his neck, enjoying the feeling of working him open, stretching him out. Little moans and gasps from him as you get deeper lets you know he likes it, and you curl your fingers upwards as you grind yourself against his thigh. 

“Do you want more?” You ask, almost answering yourself. Yes. 

“Yes,” he begs feebly. “Want you. Need you,” And he sounds so forlorn you can only oblige. 

The floor is cold under your feet as you get up. You’ve prepared the harness on your dresser already, so all you have to do is strap it on. On the bed Marcus is stroking himself lazily, his eyes growing dark as he’s watching you tighten the belt around your waist and thighs. 

“Oh, darling,” he breathes. You give him a playful twirl, making him giggle. It’s an incredible sight, your man spread out and ready for you on your bed, eyes full of lust and a smile on his lips. All desire is not yearning. This is something more. You catch yourself swallowing harshly to avoid tearing up at the scene. What kind of saint must you have been in your past life to deserve a man like Marcus in this one? You return his loving smile, silicone bouncing in your harness as you climb back onto the bed. 

Settling between his legs, you once again grab the bottle of lube. You squirt some more on your fingers to spread over his hole, before aiming it down at the silicone. “Say when,” you say, unable to control yourself, as you cover it with the gel. Marcus rolls his eyes in faux annoyance, but he can’t hide the smirk playing on his face. He loves you. You know it.

His strong thighs bracket yours, and you let your thumb rub a few soft circles on the soft skin of his hip before you line yourself up. 

“Are you ready for me?” You lean over him, placing a hand on each side of him, hovering over his torso as you push ever so slightly, but not enough to breach him. He only moans in response. Your arms bend and you lower yourself down on your elbows, trapping his desperate cock between you, your open mouth breathing into his. 

“Do you want me inside of you?” He throbs against your stomach while he nods. 

“Fuck, yes, I do.”

And with one long slow motion, you push inside of him. 

For a second you think you can feel it, the silicone an extension of your body. His hot breath fills your mouth when he gasps, and you breathe it in, replacing the air in your lungs with him. He’s tight, clenching hard around the thick length you’ve buried in him, so you sit very still, letting him adjust. 

His eyes are on yours, hands cupping your face with his thumb resting where your jawbone meets your ear. The furrow between his brows, the one that deepens when he concentrates, speaks for him. 

“Is it too much?” you ask, furrowing your own.

“Almost,” he chokes, voice a restrained rasp. 

Worried you’ve hurt him, you quickly ask “should I pull out?”, and you’re about to do it when his hands fly from your face to your ass.

“No.” 

His big hands give your cheeks a light squeeze, and with a little pressure he keeps you in place. 

“No,” he repeats, a whisper this time, a request, as he covers your lips with his own. 

With slow shifts of your hips, you move in and out, pushing sweet noises out of him with every thrust. His hands glide across your skin, coming to rest over your forearms. The only moments he takes his eyes off you are when they roll to the back of his head and he groans in pleasure. 

“That’s it,” you encourage. “Take it, baby. Take all of me.”

And he does. With every thrust, his breath grows shallower, and you can tell he’s getting close. Your stomachs are sticky with sweat and precome, joining the slick sounds from the lube in an obscene duet performed by your bodies. You bury your hands in his hair, gently pulling at it, making him mewl and whimper, as if he’s an instrument and only you can make him sing. 

Marcus grinds against you, impatient, and you scan his face as you change your pace, trying to find the spot inside him that will send him over the edge. You know you’ve found it when his mouth opens in an O, sore lips pouting, and his brows shoot together, giving him an almost quizzical expression, like he can’t believe what’s happening. 

“Oh shit, I’m–”

And before you can even sit back to take his cock in your hand, the space between your bodies is filled by his spend, thick ropes of cum running down the sides of his torso as you fuck him through his orgasm. You cup his face with one hand, nose brushing his.

“So good, baby. Give me all of it.”

He holds his breath with eyes squeezed shut, while his cock twitches a few more times, still trapped in the wet mess of sweat, cum, and lubrication between you. The silence is just as sticky as you watch Marcus catch his breath and fight to open his eyes. 

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers with a laugh. You giggle back, and kiss the tip of his nose. It’s cold, despite his flushed face and skin glistening with sweat.

“I’m gonna pull out now,” you warn him. A strained groan escapes him as you do, and you collapse on your back at his side, his strong arm around your shoulders. For a minute you just lie there with your eyes closed and breathe together, reveling in the hazy blissful moment. 

With a sigh, Marcus buries his nose in your hair, squeezing your shoulder lightly with his hand.

“Thank you,” he says, softly. You turn to face him. His eyes are still glazed over, and he looks so content and satisfied you can’t bear the thought of dragging him out of bed to hit the shower again.

“Anytime,” you wink, as you roll out of bed. His hand flexes a few times, as if trying to hold you back, but he quickly gives up and lets you go. Through heavy eyelids he watches you cross the bedroom floor. 

“Amazing,” he says absentmindedly, mostly to himself, eyeing the harness and the indents it has left on your skin as you shimmy out of it. You give him a warm smile before opening the door.

“I’ll get something to clean you up. Be right back.”

When you return with a warm washcloth, he’s fast asleep, stomach still painted with the two of you, and face still painted with contentment.

a/n: thanks to gin @wannab-urs for organizing this year's "Peg That Middle-Aged Man Campaign", and all the other writers for inspiring content! divider by @saradika-graphics and graphic by me.

#pmamc 2024 #peg that middle aged man campaign 2024 #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike smut #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #my writing

[mourningmoth]

i was thinking a lot about the similarities between almalexia and voryn today, mostly on a meta level in how theyre involved in the game's narrative and actions they take that drive it

doing so, i realised they both have p much the same reactions to the nerevarine and act toward them in an almost identical way, but it's very striking to me how this actually can say a lot about nerevar as a character, rather than examining what this means for the both of them

during the morrowind main quest, dagoth ur frequently plays on and references his past relationship with nerevar in attempts to manipulate the nerevarine. he addresses the nerevarine in very intimate ways, and repeatedly alludes to wanting them to join him. in the end, when the nerevarine has a conversation with dagoth ur before their battle, voryn kind of openly admits that regardless of his attempts to have the nerevarine join him, he admits he could never fully trust them and dagoth ur would have betrayed them once the tools were handed over (had the nerevarine chosen to join voryn)

in tribunal, when you first meet almalexia, she immediately endears herself to the nerevarine by instantly referencing their status as her dead husband. she makes a show of addressing the nerevarine this way and proclaiming how happy she is to be reunited. she then sends the nerevarine on a series of suicide missions in an attempt to get them killed, but she frames it the entire time as "of course you'll help your wonderful, sweet, beautiful, innocent wife achieve this goal, right? :3c" (and you do)

the way the 2 of them both behave this way towards the nerevarine is fascinating to me, especially when you consider these 2 characters of course knew nerevar in life and were both very close to him, so its interesting to me that they both immediately think to manipulate the nerevarine via forms of seduction. i think that says something very interesting about nerevar himself though, because almalexia and voryn had to have a reason to think this would work on his reincarnation, right?

it really feels as though they are both trying to exploit nerevar's love for them by way of attempting to rouse these feelings in the reincarnated manifestation of him, since they just expect appeals to their past relationships to work on them, which also gives me the feeling that nerevar may have been a very loyal person to his close loved ones, and that quality in itself proved to hurt him more in the end

#if only i could explain to yall how 2 hours of editting was necessary for this bc my brain works in Ways™️ #buy anyway. my Onion™️ #elder scrolls #morrowind #nerevar #almalexia #voryn dagoth #dagoth ur

[talesofesther]

sweet calamity | ch 9

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: It was something people described as the sweetest pain, the feeling of when the soul that’s destined to find yours is closer to you. Wednesday saw it as a curse, promised herself she would hate whoever was chosen for her; but it’s easier said than done.

A/N: Softest Wednesday ever and I hope she's not too out of character lol (but cut her some slack, girl's in love c'mon). Was listening to this while writing. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 8 here

"So here's something interesting that happened last night," Enid started, teasing hinting at her tone.

You gripped a little tighter onto the straps of your backpack.

"I get back from my date with Ajax, and Wednesday greets me with a goodnight, even asking if my date was enjoyable."

You hummed at her words, kicking a pebble from the stone path you were walking on. Last night's snowfall left its mark on the gardens, white snowflakes were still clinging to some of the trees around you; there was frost on the grass; mist in the air. The scenery was worthy of a painting.

"Why is that interesting?" You eventually asked.

"She never asks me about my dates," Enid exclaimed, "like ever." Taking hold of both your arms, the werewolf stopped you in your tracks and came to stand before you, forcing you to look up at her.

"She looked happy. Unusually happy," Enid narrowed her eyes at you, wolfish grin on her lips, "did something happen while I was out?"

Sometimes, Enid was too smart for her own good. You wanted to share her enthusiasm, tell her all about last night — how hearing Wednesday play gave you goosebumps, how her lips left you breathless — yet you found yourself hesitating. Everything felt too fragile.

You chuckled humourlessly, squirming under her hold. You could feel your face heating up, "nothing happened, we just hung out for a while."

Enid audibly groaned as she rolled her eyes, "come on, I saw you two dancing at the Rave'n, didn't you finally admit your obvious love for each other?"

You frowned, lips hovering open as you connected the dots, feeling your stomach lurch with apprehension. You answered her question with another, that you felt you already knew the answer to; "was that your doing by any chance?"

"Of course," Enid told you animatedly, "Wednesday was giving me her usual 'I don't do feelings' speech and hurting both you and herself in the process, I had to talk some sense into her," she scrunched her brows, taking on a serious tone, "don't tell her I said that though."

"Oh," you breathed. You're not sure why it bothers you. To think Wednesday would do something against her will was foolish, at best; but the last thing you wanted was for her to feel like she has to be with you.

"So," Enid dragged the word, pink cheeks molded by her pinkier snood, "no special moments last night?"

"W-well, we-" you stumbled, "I mean, she-"

"Enid!"

You closed your eyes and breathed out a sigh of relief upon hearing Wednesday's voice. She walked up to you and Enid with haste, backpack held by one shoulder, scarf snug around her neck, and her black beanie pushing down her bangs. She looked worthy of a painting too.

"Wednesday," Enid turned to her best friend, bouncing on her heels with glee, "we were just talking about you."

"Thrilling," the Addams girl deadpanned, glancing between you and Enid before settling on the latter, "I'll need my partner back now."

To say Enid lit up like a damn Christmas tree would be an understatement. Your heartbeat skyrocketed at the words too, before you remembered what exactly she was talking about.

Enid emitted some kind of excited noise — undoubtedly already planning your wedding; "your partn-"

"We're partners in fencing," you cut her off before she could create a scene you probably wouldn't be able to escape too soon. After your little incident with Bianca, Wednesday made sure no one but she was partnered up with you in fencing. How she accomplished that, you preferred not to know. And if anyone as much as whispered about her going easy on you when sparring, they'd receive the complete opposite treatment.

"Yes, and class started two minutes ago," Wednesday said, pointedly raising an eyebrow at you and your lack of time management.

You mouthed a sorry to her, offering a soft smile.

"You guys are no fun," Enid mumbled to herself, hugging her sweater closer to her body.

Cold air bit at your fingertips and you stuffed your hands in your pockets. Part of you could sympathize with Enid's frustration, you and Wednesday have been dancing around each other for a while, and then she finally kisses you and… and now you find yourself holding back, afraid to let your guard down.

You're still not sure what to call what she is to you. It's not like you and Wednesday are the epitome of healthy communication.

It's almost like she feels your discomfort, "let's go, I don't like waiting," Wednesday grumbled, half extending her hand out for you, giving you the chance to choose whether to take it or not.

The way you were so quick to reach for her was second nature, softly taking her hand in yours. "See you later, Enid."

"Bye lovebirds," the werewolf sweetly said, starting to walk in the opposite direction, "don't forget what we talked about yesterday, Wednesday."

"How could I? You've hammered the idea into my brain," Wednesday huffed, but Enid was already out of earshot, which left only you to grin at her words.

It was new and fragile, but maybe also just the way it was supposed to be. Maybe it was simpler than your overthinking self made it out to be — you were focused on your feet, trusting Wednesday to lead your way with her hand securely around yours.

The comfortable silence stretched for a few moments, until you reached the end of the gardens and walked inside Nevermore's walls. It felt nice to feel normal for a change; two normal girls too shy and too in love to meet each other's eyes.

"Your hands are frigid," Wednesday broke the silence, absentmindedly brushing her thumb along your skin.

You chuckled under your breath, feeling the familiar swelling of your heart, "I keep forgetting my gloves."

You refrained from groaning when the doors to the fencing arena came into sight. Before you could push them open, Wednesday pulled you to a stop. You glanced up at her curiously; only to see her cheeks an unusual shade of pink, her jaw set tightly in place, eyes strangely a tad too wide. It's rare the times that you can visibly tell what she's feeling.

You curse the way your heart automatically expects the worst, and hold your breath.

"I was-" Wednesday tried, before averting her gaze from yours and inhaling deeply, "I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me this evening."

She spoke so quickly you almost didn't catch the words fully, but you did; and it sure felt that simple. "I'd love to."

Wednesday nodded stiffly at your answer and all but burst through the doors.

———

It takes some getting used to. Sometimes the turmoil of emotions that you make Wednesday feel gets her nauseous; she thinks she resembles a babbling idiot whenever she tries to mimic what she sees the other couples do — to say she's inexperienced in the area is a huge understatement; she's trying though, in her own way, but she is.

After a day of classes that kept her mostly away from you, Wednesday was making her way to the greenhouse, the place where she knows she'll find you. And she could feel that sensation — pumping through her body with each frantic beat of her heart the closer she gets to you — the tightness on her chest, the turning of her stomach. It's nearly painful. Dangerously addicting.

The evening sun had made its appearance, soft rays seeping through the glass walls as Wednesday pushed open the door. It was quiet, eerily so. No students were around, thankfully. She realized you liked your own dose of solitude too, it's not the first time she's found you hidden away all by yourself in the greenhouse.

Wednesday was quiet as she made her way inside, preserving your space.

You were standing in front of one of the tables when she found you, eyes focused solemnly on the flower pot in front of you as you hummed a song unknown to Wednesday. Blissfully unaware of her watchful gaze on you.

Your hands were delicate with their movements, making life bloom from your fingertips; there was a ray of sun casting over your cheek and lips — Wednesday envied the pesky thing.

You pushed back a strand of loose hair, smiling faintly when you got on your tip toes to put the flower back up on the shelf, a sea of green and gold around you.

Wednesday suddenly felt the back of her eyes burning faintly; because she refused to blink or something else, she was not sure.

But she's looking at you as if she just realized what love is.

And she could love you if she wanted to. If you allowed her to.

She thinks she already does anyway.

It's unlike anything she ever expected or wanted to feel — it's pain and bliss altogether — because she had the sudden need to be closer, to hold you, touch you; otherwise she'd spiral into madness.

And so she did.

You jumped when you felt two hands grasping at your waist, sharply turning around to see whoever thought had the right to touch you like that; yet any unkind words that were ready to leave your tongue disappeared when you were met with a pair of twin black braids you were all too familiar with.

Your skin is instantly littered with goosebumps. Wednesday's hands were firm on your waist, her thumbs barely sneaking under your shirt and grazing the skin there.

Before you could even try to speak, she was shutting you up with a searing kiss. It was different from last night; she pushed herself to you, desperate in the way her lips moved with yours — as if you hadn't seen each other in six years instead of six hours.

You took only a moment to recover, grasping at her blazer with your hands and embracing anything she'd be willing to give you.

Her lips were still as plush and warm as you remembered them, as you knew you'd never be able to forget.

Wednesday pulled back when air became an annoying necessity, all soft eyes and swollen lips. Her hands still gripping your waist, gaze darting to the mouth she'd just kissed only to see you gulp and look at your feet; away from her.

"Is this acceptable?" Wednesday found herself asking, voice raspier than usual, puffs of air coming out shallow and ragged as she regarded you with worry.

"Yeah," you were quick to breathe out, bringing one hand up and hesitating only a second before gingerly touching Wednesday's cheek, your thumb tracing the lines of her bottom lip. "More than acceptable."

"But?" The raven-haired girl raised a brow.

"I just-" you could feel your heartbeat, and wondered if she could feel it too, "I don't want to force you into anything, Wednesday." You gave her a melancholic smile, "I want to make sure you don't feel like you have to be doing this," you motioned with your hand between you and her, and she was so close you could barely breathe at all.

Wednesday's eyes shuttered with a sudden blankness and nothing could prepare you for the utterly adorable look of confusion on her face that followed; eyebrows pinching together and lips turned down at the corners as she pulled back only to look at you better.

"Never in my life would I do something I do not want to do," she said matter of factly.

You bit into your lip, one hand taking hold of Wednesday's braid so you had something to fidget with.

Straightening her posture, Wednesday gulped back her pride; "I'm not… good at this," she shook her head softly, her sudden fragility surprising you, "any of it."

And you finally see it; you see it in the way her eyes lose their sharp edges, how impossibly darker they are, shining under the fading sun; you see it in the way she insisted on holding your hand even when curious glances were thrown at you; you see it in the way she doesn't let anyone else spar with you in fencing or the way she always has an extra set of notes whenever you miss a class; you see it in the way she came after you and didn't give up even after you pushed her away. You see the way she's been loving you from day one, even if both of you didn't admit it.

"And I hate the fact that you make me want to try it anyway," Wednesday whispered, bringing you back to reality.

You huffed a chuckle, sliding your hands behind her neck to pull her closer, "you hate it?"

She rolled her eyes endearingly, "take the win," she said, before stealing another kiss from your lips.

Wednesday lingered close to you, her nose bumping yours. She didn't dare open her eyes when she asked the one thing she needed to hear you say; "so can I call you mine?" She choked out, upper lip grazing yours as she spoke.

There was a beat of silence and the Addams girl was almost already considering her early grave when you didn't answer right away.

Until you did, and she could feel your cheeky smile, "only if I can call you mine too."

Wednesday's lips twitched with the treat of a smile. It was an easy bargain.

With her hand in yours, Wednesday walked out of the greenhouse; her destination being the Weathervane, where she'd buy you a hot chocolate, and a coffee for herself and do whatever couples do together.

You wanted to stop by the quad first though.

The weight of Wednesday's hand was pleasant in yours. You took her to the middle of the quad, to where stood your finished project, at last; the big maple tree was the star in the center, surrounded by countless flowers with colors that complemented each other beautifully. Two stood out amongst them, a couple of black dahlias just by the foot of the tree, their dark color unmistakable.

"You remember I was renovating this flowerbed, right?" You asked softly, stealing a glance at your girl.

Wednesday hummed, "yes, I recall."

"I think it's finally done, what do you think?"

You watched as Wednesday's dark eyes skimmed over your work, they lingered a little longer on the black-colored flowers and your lips twitched with a smirk.

"It's nice, I'm sure Enid loved the multitude of colors," Wednesday commented, "the dahlias are a nice touch," she timidly admitted eventually.

"I thought you'd like them," your cheeks warmed up you raised both your joined hands to your lips, planting a kiss on the back of her hand before pulling her along to the main gates.

Before, you didn't understand why soulmates bring each other pain whenever they're near. But now, you can see there's something magical to it — it's the fact that, even with the pain, you won't abandon the one you love, and it's a kind of love that comes without warning, burns itself into your soul and marks your heart in the best possible way.

You admire the boldness of the universe; to create something so potentially tragic yet so delightful, so blissful.

Wednesday's shoulder bumped yours as you two walked, personal space forgotten. You could feel your heartbeats mingling.

Her hand warmed up yours.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 10 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @simp4wanda26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story

[pathetic-sapphic]

Arcane milfs with an insecure S/O

CW: NSFW-ish for Ambessa, female reader

As confident as Sevika seems, she knows what an ugly feeling it is to be insecure. She loves hyping you up whenever you decide to dress up, making you twirl and show off your gorgeous body to her. Sevika will often praise you too, especially your personality and smarts so that you shall never doubt how competent and good you are. It irks her to see someone so wonderful feel bad about themselves so she'll shoo away all your doubts to the best of her ability.

Come on, pretty girl, do a little twirl for me, yeah? I want to see how that cute dress looks on you from all angles. Well, you can't blame me when you're such a vision, just imagine how lovely you'll look perched up on my lap. Oh, you are absolutely adorable when you blush, c'mere darling. You have no idea how lucky I am to have you.

It's hard to feel insecure next to such an attentive and kind partner. Grayson is a true gentlewoman, always putting your happiness and safety as her first priority. She will quickly pick up on your sour mood and insist that you confide in her. She will gently hold you as you cry and diminish all your doubts in a matter of seconds. She loves you more than anything and feels her heart squeeze painfully as she realizes just how bad of an image you have of yourself. From then on she will make sure to remind you how much she adores you and how none of this would make sense without you by her side.

It's alright my beloved, I'm here for you. I'm sorry you've been hurting for so long, I wish you'd told me earlier so I could have been here for you. No no, don't apologize, my dear, it's not your fault. What matters is that I know now and I'll help you and support you until you realize just how wonderful you are. Look at me, please? Ah, there's that pretty face that I adore. You're gonna be okay, love.

Listen, Ambessa isn't the best at comforting you about such an issue. Mostly because she hasn't felt like that much in her life as she wears all her scars with pride and loves her muscular physique. She isn't good with words and, although she notices your somber looks into the mirror, she will wait until you're comfortable enough to talk to her about what's bothering you rather than reaching out first. Once she understands the issue, she will dedicate her time and energy to making her girl feel loved and appreciated by worshipping your body as much as you let her. After she is done with you, you won't be able to walk, much less dwell on your insecurities.

Tell me, pet, do you think I'd have you right here next to me if I didn't think of you as worthy enough? Do you think I'd share a bed, give my love and touch to someone undeserving of it? Perish those foolish thoughts, my darling pet, you know I wouldn't have chosen you if you weren't as lovely as I think you are. Now come here, if my words won't do the job then I'll let my actions speak for me. You just lay down and let me worship you, sweetheart.

Believe it or not, Cassandra has her doubts too but is too afraid to admit to them. She often worries that you may feel trapped in your relationship with her or if you might feel as if she is too old for you. However, when it comes to your troubles, she is hands-on with making her sweet girl feel better. She'll shower you with gifts, take you out on lavish dates, and utter such kind and sweet words that you'll never have to doubt whether or not you deserve to be by her side.

Did you enjoy the cakes I bought for you, darling? Well, I'm glad they were to your liking, how about we go on a date later this evening after I'm done with work? Magnificent, there is a new dress waiting for you on your bed and I would appreciate it if you would wear it for tonight. I just know you'll look absolutely stunning on my arm. Look at that beautiful smile, I could stare at it all day. You know I'd do anything as long as that means you're happy, don't you? Good, I'll see you tonight, my love.

#arcane #arcane headcanons #arcane x reader #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #arcane ambessa #ambessa x reader #arcane grayson #grayson x reader #arcane cassandra #cassandra kiramman x reader #requests are open #arcane x female reader

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Also I'm sorry my mind is Lorcan mush right now 😂 but like him baking with his soft SO? Like she made him his own apron and it's fall so there's a slight chill, she had flour smeared on her cheek and he's chuckling as she shows him how to properly roll put a pie crust because he messed up the first one

Managed to type this out before my body completely gave out. Been a long minute..

warning: slightly suggestive

Pie crusts

This man aka Lorcan was far from sweet in others' eyes. They crossed the street when he walked through the town. They never stared. Never struck a conversation. These were the basic rules. You just didn't. Because this man had a reputation. Had a name to him. And it made one shiver. Made you take a double look just to make sure that you haven't caused yourself trouble. Haven't ended up in a bad book. Because Lorcan had that predatory attitude. That cold-blooded killer look. One that drowned out any happy sounds around.

But if they only knew. If they only knew what kind of male hid away behind the cold mask. What kind of male he was when no one but you were watching? His beautiful, selfless, radiant mate. His life. His pride. His joy. You had Lorcan wrapped around your finger and people who got to see that, that mainly being the family, knew that Lorcan was nothing but a big gentle giant. One that would drop everything if a planted pot in your yard needed to be moved. One that stocked up your hygiene supplies every month because he knew that you would forget about it. One that did nothing but smile when he was in your presence.

"No, you need to put more flour on it", you pointed to the jar, watching the dough sticking to the rolling pin. Rolling pin that looked ridiculously tiny in Lorcan's hands. "You said to dust it once", he rumbled, yet still reached for it. "Yeah, but you probably put too much butter in it, so it's sticky", you said, turning to reach for the bottom layer. A tin filled with a berry jam you bad made first thing in the morning.

Lorcan let out a slight growl as he tried to roll the dough again, only to be met with the same sticky mess. "You can't scare the pie out, Lor", you chuckled slightly. Sometimes you wondered why he even agreed to participate in things like this. He had little to no patience yet if he saw you doing anything by yourself he never failed to ask if you wanted him to join you. Or he would simply join himself without saying a single word.

But pie making and Lorcan had a deep-rooted beef going for a couple of months. That was Lorcan's first attempt at making the pie crust. It had gone awfully bad and nothing usually went bad for Lorcan. This man was way too competitive. Way too sure of his abilities to fail at something. You had laughed till your stomach asked back then. Watching him scowling at the dough, your tiny apron barely covering his chest.

Now Lorcan had his apron on. Once you had made for him. One he had been strangely excited to receive. "Stan up for a minute", you had told him one evening while he was finishing his paperwork. Lorcan had given you a strange look but didn't question it. Especially when he saw the messing tape in your hands. "You know, my cock hasn't changed size", he cackled to himself while you hit his chest shaking your head, "You're disgusting, put your hand up, you brute". That had him cackling, while you tried to hide your smile. You had sowed him his apron that same night. Had chosen a much more dim color, no pastels but Lorcan had frowned as he looked at it. "I don't get to have a pocket with a flower?", he questioned, glancing at your apron that hung in the kitchen. "Oh, I... I didn't think you would want one", you admitted, reaching for a deep red thread but Lorcan beat you to it, "Make it pink and blue, like yours".

You smiled at the memory as you moved to stand beside him now. "Add some more flour and knead it through once more", Lorcan simply nodded his head, following your instructions. You reached to rub the back of his neck as he worked. You would have loved to run your fingers through his hair but it was put up in a messy bun, the baby blue scrunchy shining against his onyx-black hair. "You're doing great, honey", you said softly, watching him reform the dough back into a misshapen ball. "Usually, I'm the one praising you. This is new", he grumbled but his attention was full on the backed good he was desperate to craft perfectly.

You let out a light laugh, "You're making it sound as if I never tell you just how amazing you are", you scrunched up your nose and that was enough for Lorcan to lift his head to look at you. Any, even the smallest feeling of hurt or discomfort coming from your side crippled the dark wielded. "You do, you do...", his words died down as his eyes fell on your face. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?", you tilted your head to the side. "You have...", Lorcan's voice died down, "Let me get it for you", he said softly, fingers moving to brush over the tip of your nose, whipping away the flour. His touch lingered, moving to brush over your cheek next. "And something here", he muttered, before leaning in to softly kiss your lips. No rush. No eagerness. No need to rush as Lorcan softly kissed you over and over again.

"Smooth", you mumbled as you two finally broke apart. You turned your attention back to your mate, "You took your time with my lips. Must have been real dirty", you trialed off, and turned to check on the oven. Instantly feeling Lorcan's hands slipping around your middle, "They are dirty, especially when they are wrapped...", you elbowed him in the stomach, "Don't you finish that! You dirty, teenage fea baby...", Lorcan only laughed, smirking down at you. "Go finish the crust or you will die defeated by the pie", you pointed to the forgotten dough, ushering him away with a tea towel. Smiling to yourself when another laugh slipped past Lorcan's lips and the smooth sound of him humming filled the kitchen.

#lorcan lochan salvatorre #lorcan x reader #lorcan salvaterre x reader #lorcan salvaterre imagine #lorcan tog #lorcan imagine #lorcan tog imagine #lorcan tog x reader #tog x reader #tog x you #tog imagine

[coopigeoncoo]

An Itch to Scratch, Chapter 1: Foolish Lover's Game

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Tags: Mermay, Mer!Kirishima, Interspecies Relationships, Sexual Content, Somnophilia, Drowning, Caretaking, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Medical Conditions, Family Secrets, Self-Esteem Issues, Long-Distance Relationship, Wakes & Funerals, Family Member Death, Depression, Original Characters, Adopted Children, Angst with a Happy Ending.

This story is part of a collaboration from the Teahouse Server.

---

Kirishima Eijiro is everything you never thought you'd find when you packed up your car and moved to a dilapidated fishing town.  He was handsome, funny, and kind; the sort of man who took your breath away.  

And that might actually be a bit of a problem.

---

"Good girl ," Eijiro praised, his hands like a vice on your hips as he pulled away from your mouth with a satisfied grin.  You returned his smile with one of your own; the vibrant joy that had churned in your belly unfurled throughout your body, leaving you feeling breathless and lightheaded.  

"Eiji," you gasped, eyes widening in panic as your lungs seemed to seize in your chest.  "I- can't breathe!"

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

It was an indescribably gorgeous day out in the water, the waves lapping at your shoulders were the perfect temperature to cool your sun-warmed skin without chilling you.  The sky was a solid bright blue with no variation in its hue, making it look like whoever was in charge of coloring the sky that morning just stuck a paint sample card up and called it a day. 

"We've been out here for a long time," you mentioned offhandedly, heaving yourself up onto your raft inelegantly, grunting as you struggled to get a leg up and roll onto the wildly bobbing flotation device.

"Oh!" Kirishima exclaimed, startled by how much the sun had shifted in the sky.  "Yeah, we have!  Geeze, it's already way past noon!"

Finally fully on your raft, you let out a whoosh of air as exhaustion settled  into your muscles as you sprawled out under the warm sun.  

"Do you wanna' try and squeeze up into the raft with me?" You offered, patting the narrow sliver of remaining raft at your side.  "It'll be a snug fit, but we can make it work."

"As much as I'd love to join you up there, I don't think It'd be a good fit," Kirishima admitted regretfully, his throat bobbing as his eyes over the curve of your hip where your rash guard had crept up and exposed a strip of sun-warmed skin.  

"Yeah, you're probably right," you laughed nervously, doing your best to banish the thought of the two of you on the raft together, limbs tangled up and chests pressing closer as you struggled to make room for each other.  "I'm just worried your legs are getting tired."

"Why would they be?" Kirishima asked with a furrowed brow, snagging a bit of seagrass floating by and twirling it about on his finger.

"Because you've been treading water for hours now?"

"Oh, right!  My legs are so tired right now!" He laughed uneasily, balling up and crushing the seagrass in his fist.

"Are you going to be okay to get back to shore?  I'd hate for you to get caught in a current and be too tired to make it back to shore safely," you told him, concern seeping into your tone as you rested your hand across Kirishima's muscled forearm.  

"I'll be fine," he beamed at you, gazing at you with soft eyes as he ran his thumb tenderly over the back of your hand.  "But it's sweet that you're worried about me."

Breath catching somewhere in the vicinity of your diaphragm, you smile bashfully in response, turning your hand in his to lace your fingers tightly with his as the two of you lazily paddled back towards the shore.  

It hadn't been in your plans to move in with your Grandpa after graduation, but it also hadn't been in your plans to be buried so deeply in educational debt you weren't sure you'd ever manage to pay it back.  Your chosen field was competitive and potential employers weren't calling back, so with the move-out date for student housing fast approaching you weren't left with a ton of options.  

Gran-Gran had passed a couple years prior and Gramps had done a good job carrying on without her, even though you tell by his wistful sigh when he walked by the framed photographs in the hallway that he missed her dearly.  But as he marched steadily towards the end of his life the list of things he was able to do independently dwindled with each passing month.  He'd nearly broken a hip during your final semester when he'd fallen off a chair trying to replace a burnt out bulb in his porch sconce. 

That event had gotten the family chat buzzing with concern; people expressing their displeasure that he was living alone but unwilling to personally do anything to remedy the issue.

Suddenly flush with time, you'd loaded up your car and made the long trip up to the seaside house your Grandparents had lived in for far longer than you'd been alive.  Your friends had been jealous of your relocation at first, imagining your new life to be the glamorous sort that they had seen in movies and the obligatory beach episodes of their favorite shows.  Their excitement for you had quickly evaporated when you finally arrived and started sending them photos from your new town.  

Every picture you sent was overwhelmingly brown.  Everything from the buildings to the sand and even the ocean itself was a murky russet color, a far cry from the pristine blue they had been picturing in their heads.  Even the food did its best to conform to the town's limited color palette; the beige of fresh fried seafood and potatoes that made up the majority of your meals made for a sad entry whenever you compared snapshots of meals.  

It had saddened you at first, the oppressive brown atmosphere, but in the end it had turned out to be a blessing in disguise.  The blandness of your surroundings had made you notice the brilliant crimson spot bobbing across the distant waves, a beacon luring you out into the water to investigate.  

Hastily donning a life vest, you set out from shore on your trusty inflatable raft, making a horrifying discovery as you neared the mysterious red blob in the distance. 

It was a person.

Ice cold panic crashed through your veins as you frantically paddled out towards the man, the head disappearing beneath the waves for longer and longer stretches of time, your lungs aching in sympathy for how long they were staying submerged between breaths.  

After what felt like an eternity you were finally upon them, limbs shaking from adrenaline.  

"Are you okay?" You called out, chest heaving from exertion.

The man spun towards you in the water, eyes wide in shock, before he let out an ear piercing shriek and disappeared beneath the waves with a large splash.  

"Hey!" You screeched, shoving your arm down into the area where his head had submerged, bright red hair completely hidden by the murky ocean water.  "Can you hear me?  Swim towards my voice!"

Your shoulder was aching with how violently you were waving it about, desperate to make contact with the struggling man losing his fight with the sea.  

"Please," you begged whatever Gods above or below might be listening.  "Don't let me be too late- I couldn't paddle any faster!  I'm sorry!  I'm sorry!" You wailed, throwing yourself half over the side so you could reach in with your other arm, hoping to double your chances for finding the drowning man.  

"If you can hear me, just- just hold on!" You cried, tears blurring your vision as salty water splashed across your face.  "Please!  Just grab hold of my hand!  I won't let go, I promise!"

Uncountable, anxious moments passed before you felt fingers gently graze across your palm.  You surged forward, wrapping both your hands around the man's wrist and then hauling yourself backwards, pulling the man towards the surface with all your might.  

"I caught you!" You sobbed in delight when his head breached the surface.  You tugged him further up to hang off the edge of your raft while you collapsed next to him, chest heaving in exhaustion. 

"Yeah," the man gasped, looking at you with wide, dazed eyes.  "I guess you did."

That man was Kirishima Eijiro and you two had been inseparable ever since, spending lazy days floating out on the ocean and enjoying each other's company.  Sometimes you would lay quietly along the bottom of your raft, watching the horizon for the tell-tale spouting of water that heralded the arrival of a surfacing whale.  Kirishima loved to show off his diving prowess when you were in shallower waters, sliding beneath the choppy waters with a sharp grin, returning moments later with interesting shells, bits of bone, and wriggling starfish with too many legs.  

You had thought about asking him into town with you, but that notion was immediately discarded because what would you even do there?  Visit the only restaurant in town that served the exact same fried fish your Grandpa made while you withered under the judgmental gazes of the old fishermen playing dominoes at the corner table?  

Hard pass.  

So you woke up before the sun with your Grandpa, dodging all his attempts to coax you into sitting on a whoopie cushion or trying out a new bottle of perfume you knew with utter certainty was just a dolled up bottle of fart spray; and paddled out in the early morning light to spend the beginning of the day with Kirishima.  Once the sun's rays became unbearable you'd return to shore and join your Grandpa and his friends down on the dock, mending nets and patching crab pots while they doled out unsolicited life advice.  

You accepted their wisdom with a polite nod, knowing that they meant well.  Their own children and grandkids had left the town years ago and never looked back, so you were a convenient outlet for all the paternal advice they so rarely had the opportunity to dispense. 

Days crawled by, each much the same as the one before, and you tried not to think about how easily you had settled into life in this moldering town that seemed to decay before your very eyes.  

You expressed this to Kirishima; your worries and fears about identifying so strongly with a lifestyle that would likely be buried alongside the aging townsfolk.

"What will you do then?" He asked, staring intently into your eyes as his fingers tightly gripped the rope running around the side of your raft. "Will you stay?  Even when your Grandfather is gone?"

You didn't like to think of it- of your Grandpa dying.  He was such a spitfire of an old man whose playfully nature seemed immune to fading like his eyesight and hearing had. 

"I don't know.  But I think there might be more reasons to stay than to go," you whispered, returning his meaningful glance; the moment ruined by the choking squawk of seagulls passing overhead.  

"Is there anything here, do you think?  Between us?" You asked Kirishima one cloudy day, your nerves jumping as you mustered up the courage to broach the subject that had been on the forefront of your mind for weeks.

"Nah," Kirishima scoffs, waving a hand dismissively.  Your stomach twists in on itself in embarrassment and you rush to find some excuse to change the subject when Kirishima continues talking.  "There was a shark around earlier, but it's gone now."

"Wait, what?" You screech, tucking your legs up to your chest protectively.  "There was a shark and you didn't think to tell me?"

"You didn't notice?" He asks, face scrunched up in confusion. "Weird."

"It's not weird!  How would I even be able to notice something like that?  You can't see anything in this water!  Did you like, kick it or something?"

"Yes," Kirishima coughs uneasily.  "I know it was there because I kicked it.  With my feet.  Of which I have two."

"Oh God, it was that close?" You whine, burying your face into your hands while Kirishima seemed to be experiencing a delayed revelation.

"Hold on- what were you talking about before if it wasn't the shark?"

"Oh, uh," you stammer uneasily, fiddling with the zipper of the emergency bag strapped to your waist.  "Nothing!  Don't worry about it."

"Were you talking about us, us?" Kirishima groaned, rubbing a wet hand down his face with a rugged groan.  "Oh, man!  I've totally messed this up, haven't I?"

"No!  Of course not!" You quickly reassured him, still not brave enough to meet his eyes after his casual rejection.  "This is all on me.  I shouldn't have assumed- I should have realized that what I was feeling was one-sided."

"Hush," Kirishima rumbled, a gravely sort of sound that sent shivers down your spine.  Fingers ran across your forearm, leaving gooseflesh in their wake as you hesitantly lifted your gaze to his.

"Whatever feelings you have- however you might see me, believe me when I say that I feel the same."

"So, we're friends," you offer tentatively with a wobbly smile.

"The very best," Kirishima agreed readily.

"And…also something more?  If you'd like?"

"Oh, I'd like that," he grinned wildly. "I'd like that very much."

Grandpa wasn't in a good way when he woke, his joints stiffer than normal and a delay in the movement on his left side that had you contemplating loading him up into your beater of a car and driving him inland to find a doctor.  You decided to spend the morning with him, despite his colorful protests, and called down to the dock to let his friends know that he was alright.  

You could tell he was frustrated by the shaking of his hand and how often he had dropped his toothbrush in the sink, so you let him slip you a piece of chewing gum that turned your teeth black in an effort to cheer him up.  He was delighted by your coal-black smile, letting out a wheezing guffaw every time you grinned at him.  Your teeth would be a touch gray for a couple of days, but it was worth it to see your Grandpa's spirits bolstered.  

After escorting Gramps down to the docks and fetching him a large glass of water, you bid the group of old curmudgeons farewell and darted down to the shore.  Kirishima didn't own a phone, which was usual in this day and age, but not unheard of in the area.  Paranoia ran thick through people's blood and many of the old guard were happiest living as far off-grid as they could reasonably manage.  Kirishima's lack of phone wasn't typically an issue so long as you stuck to your established routine, but it did make it difficult to coordinate whenever things went awry.  

Hands cupped above your eyes, you peered out into the water and saw Kirishima's brilliant red hair far closer to shore than was typical.  He was swimming back and forth in tight circles as if he was pacing, anxiously awaiting your arrival. 

You raised your hands above your head and waved frantically to catch his attention, snorting in amusement when he finally noticed you and lost his focus,  getting pushed under water by a passing wave.  

"That yer friend?" One of the old men combing the beach with a metal detector asked.

"Sure is," you reply tightly, not thrilled by the notion of your personal life becoming this week's town gossip fodder.

"Be careful with that one," the man warned with a snort, hocking a thick brown loogie down onto the sand by your feet.  "He's got red hair.  That's bad luck out on a boat."

"Everything is bad luck out on a boat," you mutter sourly.

"Yer not wrong," the old man wheezed in amusement. "Just be careful.  The sea is greedy for beautiful things, and yer the prettiest thing that's been 'round here in a long, long time."

"Aww," you coo, savoring the way the rare compliment settled warmly in your chest.

"Don't let it go to yer head," the man sniffed, pulling his headset back over his ears as his wand started beeping enthusiastically about something further inland. "Yer just a fairer sight than the rest of us old farts, but that ain't saying much."

"I hope you find nothing but bottle caps until the day you die," you grumble peevishly, blowing a dramatic kiss out to Kirishima, who dove to catch it in midair before holding it fast to his heart.

"If only," the man sighed as he limped away. "But I ain't never been that lucky."

You were startled by your Grandpa coughing loudly while he worked on slicing up his fish fry into bite sized pieces.

"One of the boys told me they saw you out on the beach this morning," he said, dipping a small piece of fish into a heaping pile of ketchup and horseradish.  

"Of course they did.  You're all a bunch of nosey busy bodies," you huff in irritation, shoving a large spoonful of canned peas into your mouth and wincing at their lack of flavor.  

"I trust you and your judgment," Grandpa assured you as you picked up the salt shaker in the middle of the table.  "But just be careful, alright?  I've been a man for many years now and up to no good for nearly all of them."

"I will, Gramps.  Thanks for worrying," you said with a smile, giving the shaker a hearty jiggle and watching in horror as the lid fell clean off into your peas along with the entire contents of the salt shaker.

"Ya' see?" Gramps hollered, slapping his knee in delight.  "Totally untrustworthy- the lot of us!"

Your relationship with Kirishima, while good, was innocent on the best days and positively chaste on the worst.  You had vivid memories of participating in far more brazen displays of affection with your middle school boyfriend than what Kirishima seemed comfortable with.  

Wandering hands were constantly redirected to areas safely above the water line and attempts at kisses were redirected at the last moment onto turned cheeks and noses.  

You didn't mind the slow pace at first, respecting Kirishima's personal boundaries and desire to not rush into anything physical. But as the weeks ticked by the speed of your developing relationship shifted from glacial to stagnant, you couldn't help but be frustrated and more than a little confused.

"Ugh!" You screeched in irritation when your kiss landed across his jaw instead of your intended target of his lips.  With a huff, you push on Kirishima's shoulders to propel yourself backwards in the water and away from him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, brow wrinkled in confusion as he reached out for you, hands flexing in a grabby motion to lure you back to him.

"That's what I want to know!" You yell, slamming your hands down on the surface of the water, the sudden impact stinging your skin.  "You just push me away every time I try to get close to you!"

"I- I'm sorry," Kirishima whimpers.

"Do you- do you want to break up?" You ask, voice quiet and cracking.  

"No!  No, of course not!" Kirishima rushes to reassure you, closing the distance between you in an instant, pulling you against his chest and running comforting fingers across your cheeks, leaving trails of water in their wake.  "I care about you so much."

"Then what's going on?" You sniff miserably, nuzzling the space between Kirishima's pecs to comfort yourself.  "Why won't you kiss me?"

"I just- I feel really bad when I try to kiss you."

"Really not helping out my self-confidence here, Eijiro," you wince, the sound of his heart beat thundering under your ear. 

"Ah, geez!  No!  Not like that!  I just, maybe, haven't been completely honest with you about something," he admits hesitantly.  "And I feel guilty."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he shifts uneasily, kicking up a strong current that lashes against your legs.  "It doesn't feel right, getting closer to you while I'm keeping a secret."

"Can you tell me?  Your secret, I mean," You ask hesitantly, staring up into his warm eyes.

"I want to," he says, dropping his forehead down onto yours with a heavy thunk that sends stars flying across your vision.  "I'm just scared."

"You don't have to be scared," you assured him honestly, looping your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer to him.  "I'm already halfway in love with you.  It'll take a lot to frighten me away."

"Yeah," Kirishima sighed morosely.  "I know."

Kirishima wrapped the tow line of your raft around his chest and swam out towards a rocky outcropping further up the shore and away from town.  You hadn't explored this far North before because the tides were fairly strong in this area and it was easier on your arms to drift and explore the areas to the South.  

"Here we are," Eijiro announced, lashing the rope of your boat around a half-rotten piling; evidence of a past pier claimed by the sea.  You scuttled out of your raft as smoothly as you could, the waves breaking on the rocks making your exit maneuvers more bumbling than you would have liked.  But you managed to get to the top of the slick rocks without slipping, so it was an overall win in your book.

"Alright," you said with a firm head nod, focusing on Eijiro's serious expression and not the unpleasant feeling of algae squishing under your hands.  "What is it you want to tell me?"

"Okay," Kirishima sighed, his chest visibly sinking with the force of his exhale.  "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, just- give me a minute?" He squeaked, running his shaking hands through his damp hair, the bright red tresses clumping together into rows between his fingers.  "This is harder than I thought it would be."

"Maybe just say it really quick?" You offer.  "Just get it over with- like pulling off a bandaid."

"A what?"

"Do you…not know what a bandaid is?" You ask, utterly flummoxed by his question. 

"Not important right now," Kirishima waved his hand dismissively.  "We'll circle back to that later."

"Of course.  Right.  We need to stay focused here."

Moments pass in silence as you wiggle your fingers in the squishy algae beneath you while Kirishima's skin seems to turn ghastly pale before your eyes.  You were about to ask if he was okay when he suddenly released a powerful roar that seemed to rattle your bones with its intensity.

"C'mon, Kirishima!  Man up!  You've got this!" He bellowed, suddenly pointing at you with one of his long fingers.  "Are you ready!?"

"I-," You stammered, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor.  "Yes?"

"That's the spirit!" He cheered, pumping a fist into the air.  "Here I come!"

And then Kirishima surged up and out of the water, his arms tensing as he caught the edge of the rock face and began pulling himself up in an impressive show of strength.  He scrambled for purchase across the slippery stone, eventually letting out a triumphant grunt when he found a foothold and was able to push himself up.

And up.

And up.

Kirishima was towering high above you now, his torso stretched far above where a normal human chest would be.  His monumental form blocked out the sun and cast a shadow down onto your shivering body- either from the sudden chill of the shade or the prickles of fear jolting down your spine; you weren't entirely certain.  

As your eyes trailed down his elongated body it suddenly became clear as to why you'd never seen Eijiro out of the water.  

Starting at his waist and proceeding downwards were rows and rows of chitinous plating that nestled and slotted I to each other to form a massive lobster tail.  Eight spindly legs clicked loudly across the rock as he swayed nervously from side to side; arms crossing and uncrossing as he waited for you to respond.  

Overwhelmed by his revelation, you inhaled a great shaky breath and promptly burst into tears.

"H-hey," Kirishima stuttered, reaching for you on instinct; second guessing his actions at the last moment and pulling his hands away with a pained grimace.  "It's okay!  I know I look scary, but I promise I won't hurt you!"

"It's not- it's not that," you wailed, blowing your nose into the hem of your rash guard.  "I could never be scared of you, Eijiro!"

"Spirits be praised," Kirishima whispered, visibly deflating in relief as his arms shot out once again to embrace you, running his hands soothingly down your back as he made quiet shushing noises to soothe you.  "If you aren't scared, then why are you so upset?"

"Because I'm allergic to shellfish!" You cried, burying your face into his shoulder as another wave of sobs overtook you. 

"I don't- what does that mean?"

"It means that lobsters make me sick!" 

"Oh," Kirishima muttered numbly, his hands stilling against your back as dread welled up in his belly.  "Well, shit."

The two of you lay sprawled out on that rocky outcropping, idly watching the clouds shift by.  Kirishima was on his back, his numerous lobster legs folded and tucked close to his body while his feathery swimmerets fluttered anxiously in the air.

"So, how allergic are you exactly?"  Kirishima asked, his tail slapping against the ground mindlessly as his thoughts raced. 

"Allergic enough to carry this," you sighed as you unzipped your emergency pack and pulled out an EpiPen.  "I've had to carry one ever since I was a kid.  I used to eat a ton of lobster- wait.  That must sound awful to you!"

"Nah," Kirishima said, waving off your distress with a hand and a couple of legs thrown in for good measure.  "I eat lobsters all the time.  They're delicious."

"I- well.  Okay, then," you replied uneasily, trying not to dwell on the potential moral ramifications of Kirishima's lobster consumption.  "Anyway, I had ordered some lobster tails like I normally did, but once I started eating them I began itching like crazy.  I've avoided shellfish ever since."

Kirishima blew out a frustrated breath as his hand crept towards you, weaving his fingers through yours.

"What are we going to do?" Eijiro murmured dejectedly, squeezing your hand tightly as the clouds tumbled through the sky above you.

"I don't know."

#eijiro kirishima x y/n #eijiro kirishima x reader #eijiro x y/n #eijirou x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #pigeoncoos🕊 #bnha x self insert #mha x female reader

[bradshawsbaby]

Letters to My Love // Part VII

Auld Lang Syne

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: We’ve finally made it to 1943! Can you believe it will soon be a whole year since the night Bobby and Peach met?

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story.

To ring in the new year in the story, the title of this chapter is based on the holiday classic, Auld Lang Syne. To get in the spirit, check out this 1939 instrumental version by Guy Lombardo!

Dedication: As always, this story is dedicated to my dear friend, @luminousnotmatter​. Clara, thank you, thank you, thank you for your support of this story!

Warnings: Alternating POV, talk of the holidays, brief allusions to the trauma of war, references to rationing, and a ton of fluff.

January 12, 1943

Dear Peach,

Happy New Year! I know we’re only 12 days in at this point, but I hope that 1943 is already shaping up to be a good year for you. Hopefully it will be a good year for all of us. And I look forward to hearing all about your Christmas back home in Georgia!

Now to address that “elephant in the room” as you called it—well, Peach, I see no elephants, but I do see what has to be the most beautiful and elegant photograph I’ve ever had the good fortune to lay these sorry eyes on. Are you sure you really meant to send it to me and not to MGM? You could be a movie star! I wouldn’t be surprised at all if it was announced that their next big picture was starring The Sweet Peach from Georgia. Hey, maybe that could even be the name of the movie. What do you think?

Peach, I hope you know that I’m not teasing and I’m not kidding. And I hope my saying so doesn’t come across as forward, but you really are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, whether in the movies or in real life. Part of me was starting to wonder if maybe I’d dreamed it all up, that night we had together in Charleston. Could any girl really be that beautiful and kind and funny and smart, all wrapped up in one splendid person? But then I opened your last letter and your photograph fell out of the envelope, and I realized that sometimes real life can be even better than our dreams. Because you, Peach, are even more stunning than you were in my memories. And you know what makes it even better? That your beauty shines from the inside. Looking at your photograph, I can see all the kindness and gentleness and goodness that I’ve come to know so well, shining in your eyes and brightening your smile.

Gosh, am I rambling? I’m sure I am. But I don’t want you to feel embarrassed, not for a moment. And to think that you would even suggest I take a photograph this beautiful and shove it in a drawer or throw it off the carrier! That would be an absolute crime! It deserves to be framed and hung for everyone to admire. I admit that I’ve never seen the Mona Lisa, but I can already guarantee that you’re a thousand times prettier. But can I tell you the truth, Peach? As much as you deserve to be universally praised, I’ve been very selfish. The fellas are all quite jealous, you see, that the prettiest girl in the world has chosen to write to me, of all people. So I keep your photograph tucked close to my heart, away from all the guys. Don’t want to rub salt in the wound, you know?

Benny and Tommy Boy wanted me to respectfully let you know that you looked quite lovely in your photo, and that they’d be more than willing to serve as pen pals to any of your friends back home who may be in need of some correspondence.

Will you do me a favor and thank Dottie for this little scheme of hers? I knew that I liked your sister already, but this has truly solidified it for me. She’s a smart woman, that Dottie Sheridan. And I hope Frankie’s birthday pictures turned out just as nice as yours!

Can I tell you something else, Peach? We’ve been doing a lot of flying over here, me and Paul and the rest of our squadron, as I’m sure you can imagine. Paul keeps a photograph of Natasha and the kids in our aircraft when we’re flying. He says it brings him good luck and helps him remember what he’s fighting for. I like to keep a photograph of my family with me while we’re flying so that I can remember the same. But now I carry your photograph with me, too. And I think I understand now what Paul meant about his photo bringing him luck. Every time we’ve flown since I started carrying you with me, I feel this extra sense of protection. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true. You’re my good luck charm, Peach, and I thank you for that. Thanks for helping me remember what I’m fighting for, every day that I’m here. And, hey—it’s sort of like we’re flying together already, right?

I was glad to hear that you enjoyed the pumpkin pie story, and that my utter humiliation could at least bring you some laughter. It’s funny that you should mention my mama setting aside some pumpkin pie for me because I did, in fact, receive a letter from her not long after Thanksgiving, and she told me she had done just that. She said that she’s hoping and praying I’ll be home for pumpkin pie this year. I hope she’s right.

I’m so happy to hear that you got to spend time with your folks and be together for the holidays. And happy belated birthday to little Frankie! They grow up fast, don’t they? Natasha sent Paul some photographs from Paul, Jr.’s first birthday, and neither of us can believe how big he’s gotten. Natasha says she’s writing down all his milestones in a little book for when Paul returns, so that he doesn’t miss a thing. I know it makes Paul feel good to hear that. He misses them so much.

I hope you don’t mind me doing so, but I shared with some of the guys on the carrier how you offered up your Thanksgiving gratitude and prayers for us. It lifted a lot of fellas’ spirits, I’ll tell you that. We were all missing home a little extra around the holidays, but to be reminded of why we’re doing this, and of the good people back home who are thinking of us, really makes all the difference.

Now to hear that you were an excellent pupil back in your grade school days does not surprise me one bit, Miss Peach. It’s funny that you say that you’re hopeless when it comes to arithmetic because I was always rather hopeless when it came to my writing—as I’m sure you can tell from the woeful state of my handwriting. My teachers at school—and yes, even my professors at Annapolis—always scolded me over it. Everyone has their strengths, huh? But if you don’t mind handling the writing, I’m more than happy to take care of the numbers and figures. We’d make quite a team.

Peach, I can promise you that the thought of getting to share another dance with you is one of the few things that keeps me going on the days when this war just really takes all the stuffing out of me. I just hope it’s something that YOU still want when all is said and done. I’m sure all the boys are lining up to sign your dance card.

Speaking of, have you been to any more dances at the USO lately?

You’re right when you say that Paul, Tommy Boy, Benny, and I couldn’t be any more different if we tried, but we do have a special bond and I’ll always be thankful for that. I’m glad to know you have that, too, with Dottie and Paddy and the rest of your family.

That glass of lemonade in Charleston sounds real nice right about now. It’s cold and rainy where we are, but I’ll be dreaming about that South Carolina sunshine.

My family was telling me about the coffee rations in one of their last letters. I am sorry to hear about that. I can only imagine how hard that’s hitting people, especially Paddy. I used to see him down at least three or four cups in the morning, back when I was stationed stateside. I’m sending all my best wishes that you and Dottie can survive his grumbling.

Peach, I just want to close by letting you know, once again, how much your support means to me. Truly. I hate to dwell on the negative, but there are days when this war is really hard. In fact, there are days when it feels downright impossible. But then I reread one of your letters, or take out your photograph and gaze at that pretty smile, and my hope is bolstered. You’ve given me so much, through your words alone, and I want you to know that.

I miss you, too. Who knows? Maybe 1943 will be the year we finally get that dance?

I hope so.

Very Truly Yours,

Bobby

February 3, 1943

Dear Bobby,

Happy New Year! 1943 has been treating me kindly so far, but it would be even better if it was the year that you and the rest of our boys came home. Just like your mother, that’s what I’m hoping and praying for.

My goodness, Robert Floyd, you certainly know how to make a girl feel special! I have to confess, I must have read your letter through a good two or three times when it first arrived in the mail, and I couldn’t stop blushing or beaming the whole time. Dottie said that I looked like a giddy school girl, which taught me that I really ought to read your letters in the comfort of my own room instead of in front of my nosy big sister.

Just so you know, Dottie gladly accepts your praise and thanks, and has not let me live it down for a moment. She has not failed to remind me that big sisters know best, and that I shouldn’t be so afraid to trust her, because look how well her plans always turn out? Well, knowing her my entire life, I can quite confidently say that Dottie’s plans don’t ALWAYS turn out well, but I am glad that this one did.

I’m certainly no movie star, but Dottie did work her magic on me that morning, and I’m touched beyond words at your kind reception of such a silly little thing. My cheeks still feel warm, even as I write to you now. Do you really carry my photo with you, even when you’re flying? I can hardly believe it, but I know you’re an honest man, Bobby, so it must be true. And if it brings you any sort of luck while you’re up in the air, then I’m glad for it and I’d send you a hundred more photographs if I could. I want you to come home safely, Bobby, more than anything. I need you to make it home safely so that we really can go flying together one day.

Please send my thanks and my best wishes to Benny and Tommy Boy, who are both clearly gentlemen of the highest caliber. But I’m sorry to tell them that I don’t have any girlfriends I can match them up with. Truth be told, I don’t have many girlfriends to begin with, and most of the women I do know are spoken for.

Speaking of which, do you remember my friend, Emily? She was the blonde volunteer working at the punch table with me the night we met. That was so long ago now, it’s okay if you don’t remember. Anyway, she just got engaged! She and her fiance actually met that night at the dance. His name is Eddie and he’s a corporal in the Army. He was stationed in Charleston for about a month or so after you were deployed, and he and Emily got to spending a lot of time with each other. They wrote to each other after he left, and Eddie proposed while he was back in Charleston on a short leave last month. Isn’t that something? It’s funny how things work out sometimes. I had thought Eddie was going to ask me to dance that night, but it was Emily he wanted to dance with. And look how well it turned out for them! I’m really happy for her. She’s so excited. They’re hoping that the war will be over soon and Eddie will come home permanently so that they can plan a big wedding. Emily even asked me to be one of her bridesmaids! I was Dottie’s Maid of Honor when she got married, but I’ve never been anyone else’s bridesmaid, so it’s all very exciting. A little bit of good news and hope in the midst of so much ugliness.

Christmas in Georgia was lovely, even if it was a little quieter than Christmases we’ve enjoyed in the past. I did get to see my grandparents, and some of my aunts and uncles and cousins, and that was a joy. If there’s one thing this war has taught us, it’s that spending time with the ones you love is really what matters most. My aunt actually made a pumpkin pie for dessert on Christmas Eve and I couldn’t stop giggling, thinking about your pumpkin pie fiasco as a little boy.

I hope that Paul, Jr. had a wonderful first birthday, same as Frankie! I think it’s an absolutely marvelous thing Natasha is doing, writing down all the special moments that are happening now so that Paul can relive them when he gets home. What a special gift that will be! Would you do me a favor, Bobby, and send Paul my best? I’ll never forget his kindness at the dance that night, and I really do hope he’s doing well.

Of course I don’t mind you passing along my best wishes to the rest of the men! I feel like I have so little to offer, and so little to contribute to this war, so if my thoughts and prayers can help lift even one person’s spirits, then I’m happy to hear it.

I’m also happy to hear that you’re good with numbers and figures because I simply never have been. I’d suggest that you could tutor me when you return home, but I’d be embarrassed for you to see just how truly hopeless I am when it comes to my mathematics. Instead, I’ll gladly take you up on your offer to handle all the writing if you handle all the numbers. An excellent team we’d make, indeed! And believe me when I say that your handwriting is far from the most dreadful I’ve seen. You should see my father’s and Paddy’s—completely illegible! Paddy once left me and Dottie a note letting us know he’d be home late that night, and we sat up for hours worrying because we couldn’t even read what it said! So trust me, Bobby, your writing is not as woeful as all that.

You can also trust me when I tell you that there are certainly no boys lining up to sign my dance card. I’ve volunteered at several other USO events, but truth be told, I haven’t gone to many dances since that one back in May. Emily’s always trying to get me to go with her, and I have gone to a couple, but it just doesn’t feel the same, Is that silly? I know we only got to attend one dance together, but it just doesn’t feel right, being there without you, Bobby. Every time I did force myself to go, I’d hear a song that played that night and then I’d miss you too much. The next time I go to a dance, I want you to be there, too, and I want us to be dancing together. I’ll make sure there’s plenty of lemonade for us afterwards.

I think Paddy is finally recovering from his caffeine withdrawals, thank goodness! Dottie and I have been cutting back on our coffee consumption so that he can have some more in the morning. I have a feeling more rations will be coming soon, which is why Dottie and I are already making plans to revive our Victory Garden this spring. We didn’t pay as much mind to it last year, when everything still seemed so readily available, but this year we’re determined to grow as much as we can. We’re not exactly farmgirls, my sister and I, so maybe you could send us some tips?

Bobby, if my words bolster your spirits, then I want you to know that your words do that a hundredfold for me. Receiving your letters in the mail brings me such joy. I have every single one saved, and I read them whenever I’m feeling sad or scared about the war. Have I told you lately how glad I am that we met and that we’re still exchanging letters all these many months later?

Here’s to hoping that 1943 is our year, Bobby. I hope that I’ll be seeing you real soon.

Most Affectionately Yours,

Peach

P.S. I almost can’t believe I’m asking this—and I hope you don’t think it too forward—but is there any possibility that you might have a photograph you could send? I can still see your face so clearly in my memories, Bobby, but it would be so special to have a photo to remember you by. If not, it’s okay. I just thought I would ask. Stay safe, Bobby.

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman #WWII AU #1940s AU

[caffedrine]

Gilbert von Obsidian - Challenge From the King of Trampling - Event Summary

Do I ever know what I’m doing? You shouldn’t trust me, or my suspect understanding of what’s going on in my daily life, much less in Gilbert’s world.

Accuracy is not guaranteed - you should definitely pick up this event when it reaches the English server.

This event is set in the event series that predates Gilbert's route - where he and Emma will never be anything more than friends.

Prologue

The afternoon is very lovely, with a peaceful blue sky, bright sunshine, and the promise of a peaceful day. Emma wishes this moment would last forever.

Sitting next to her, munching on a small pile of cookies on the table, Gilbert asks if Emma would like to play a game with him, trampling on that peaceful moment like the villain he is. Emma asks why he suddenly wants to play, and Gilbert glibly replies that it’s just his current mood.

Emma is only here because Gilbert had told her to make a lot of sweets for him, but maybe his real purpose wasn’t just to eat a small army’s worth of cookie rations but to play a game instead. And tide himself over with the cookies. Gilbert is very skilled at manipulating people into doing what he wants.

Gilbert continues, it would be boring just having a game with no reward. Oh, but if they made it a winning condition that the loser would have to do anything the winner wants . . .

Sensing a trap, Emma quickly refuses. Gilbert laughs, does she think she can say no? Emma asks him to cut to the chase and tell her what he wants her to do. She already knows that she’ll lose.

Well not necessarily. Gilbert is thinking up games where she has a good shot at winning as well. In fact, he already has a plan. Placing his cloak over the table, Gilbert snaps his fingers and pulls back the cloak to reveal a box. Warily, Emma opens it only to find some sheets of paper, pens, and ink.

Gilbert’s idea is for both he and Emma to put their own game ideas into the box. Two ideas each, and then they’ll blindly draw. And, to make it fair, they will have the winner be the best two out of three.

Emma realizes that Gilbert is allowing her to write a game that favors her. Maybe she does have a chance of winning. She turns to Gilbert and asks if when he said the loser would have to do anything the winner wanted . . .

(For once, Gilbert can make Emma sweets instead!)

Gilbert promises that it goes for him as well, if Emma wins, she can ask him to do anything. It’s a high-risk, high-reward game. And, as a handicap, Gilbert is okay with Emma asking for help during the game.

Emma points out that it would put Gilbert at a great disadvantage. Gilbert laughs and asks if she’s serious. He’s the Marshall of Eternal Victory, he’s never lost a match or game.

While Gilbert gloats, Emma considers it. She already is forced to follow his whims, so this might be her only chance to get payback. Even though it’s risky, Emma decides to accept Gilbert’s match.

The peaceful time is ended, and Emma’s battle with the Trampling Beast has begun.

Gilbert only smiles at her; he’s looking forward to having fun together.

Round 1 – The Affectionate Confrontation of Sweets

The first match was a game Emma had put in, and she does not doubt that she will win. The stage is the kitchen, filled with all the ingredients the castle cooks were able to spare. The game is to make as many sweets as possible with the ingredients on hand and feed them to Gilbert. If he eats everything, he will win. If Emma can make enough sweets that even Gilbert has had too many, she wins.

Sitting in the kitchen at a nearby table, Gilbert admits that he is looking forward to this game. He wonders what kind of sweets will be made for him. He and his stomach are looking forward to this challenge. He seems confident, which only invigorates Emma’s fighting spirit.

Behind Emma are her three reliable helpers: Yves, Licht, and Luke. She had chosen the people most familiar with sweets to face Gilbert in this challenge.

(Team Sweets)

Proud as a peacock, Yves admits that since Emma seems a little over her head, he’s here to help. Luke’s role was to bring the honey, which he has 5 liters that he’s willing to share. Licht isn’t entirely sure why he’s here. Yves assures him that his presence is essential – he needs to finish up whatever Gilbert doesn’t eat.

Please, Licht, your big brother is counting on you.

Emma thanks all of them for coming and helping her win against Gilbert. With Yves and Luke, who are good at making sweets, and Licht tasting them for quality, there’s no doubt that she will win. Licht asks if she’s decided on what to make.

The plan is to make something very high in calories, that will fill up the stomach quickly. Luke thinks that honey would be put to good use, and Yves suggests a classic cake with cream and honey. Luke notes that with this plan, Gilbert will have to give up eating due to how sweet it’s going to be, not to even mention the calories. Surveying her supplies, Emma thinks that they have enough to make 50 servings.

Licht is taken aback and asks if Emma has some grudge against Gilbert or something. Pipping in, Gilbert corrects him, it’s not a grudge, it’s love. Emma ignores him and begins putting ingredients into a bowl. Luke is about to say something, but Gilbert interrupts him, giving him the universal ‘secret’ sign. Emma asks what that was about, and Luke tells her that it’s nothing.

Continuing, Emma tries to silence her bad feeling, wondering if she’s just overthinking it.

A few hours later.

Emma wonders if this is all just an elaborate lie. Yves wonders if his eyes are deceiving him. Licht wonders if all this time, Gilbert was secretly a monster. Luke wonders where Gilbert put all of it.

(In his fifth dessert stomach)

A giant cake, filled with cream and honey, large enough to serve fifty people, was now all inside Gilbert’s stomach. Smiling sweetly at them, Gilbert compliments the cooks and asks if they have any more.

Emma recalls Gilbert happily munching on the cookies before the match. He should have already been more than half full. How did this happen? Wailing in despair, Emma collapses to her knees in the kitchen.

Gilbert admits that he’s about 80% full now. But he wants the other 20% to be full too. His only complaint was that the cake was too sweet – it gave him mild heartburn. To be fair, he half expected it from Emma and her friends. He admits that the four of them (including Licht, somehow) are amazing chefs.

Yves is in a weird state of being pleased with praise, and not happy with being praised. Luke admits that he had the feeling that this was going to happen anyways.  He points out that if they were serious, they could have just made really foul-tasting sweets.

Oh. Oh yeah. That probably would have won them their victory.

As if thinking the same thing, Gilbert’s shoulders shake with poorly repressed mirth. He tells Luke that Emma is still Emma, she wouldn’t do that to an honored state guest. Honestly, he likes that about her.

Well, at least one person seems happy, even if it’s not the person Emma wanted to be thrilled by this. At least he’s praising them for all of their hard work.

Standing up, Gilbert walks over to where Emma has collapsed and kneels in front of her. Emma looks up, awkwardly noticing that his face is so close. Very politely, Gilbert thanks Emma for the meal and kisses her cheek, and suddenly Emma’s thoughts screech to a halt. He smiles as if enjoying her reaction.

Yves cuts in, asking them to stop being so shameless in the middle of the kitchen. Gilbert asks what he means by ‘shameless’, his fingers running over Emma’s lips. Suddenly, Emma realizes that she’s in danger.

Emma jumps up and hides behind Luke, announcing that it’s time for the next match. She definitely won’t lose it. Gilbert has an exaggerated expression of regret but shrugs his shoulders in acquiescence. He wonders what the next game will be.

Current Score: 0 wins and 1 loss.

Round 2 – The Honey Trap and the Jewelry Showdown

The second match was a game invented by Gilbert.

Gilbert explains that Obsidian is the land of military and ore, and there is a ‘fun’ game they can use stones to play with. He pulls out a pouch from the inside of his cloak (which Emma was certain hadn’t been there a second ago) and hands it to her. In the bag are two rocks, and one gemstone. Emma has 30 minutes to guess which one is the gemstone. Gilbert will just wait right here in this room, in this chair (digesting) for her to come back with her answer.

To be honest, Emma isn’t confident in her ability to appraise gems or jewels, but if she has someone to help her, then maybe she has a chance. The palace is full of princes, there has to be at least one of them familiar with jewels.

Right?

The only two princes she can find are Nokto and Jin, the battle-hardened womanizers of the palace. Emma hopes that, with their experience of picking jewelry as gifts for women, they can help her. At the very least, they’ve seen more gemstones than she has.

Jin admits that he’s seen his fair share of gems and knows a lot . . . . he looks into the bag and asks if Emma is serious. Nokto looks as well, his face looking grim.

The gem in the bag is unprocessed, it looks just like the other two stones. A true merchant or jeweler could recognize the true gem, but it becomes quickly apparent that the moniker does not apply to any of the three of them.

Nokto notes that probably only Silvio or Chevalier would be able to tell which one was the true gem. Jin recalls that Silvio has left the castle on business, and as for Chevalier . . . Nokto finishes the thought, noting that he won’t help them. Jin wonders if maybe Chevalier’s big brother can convince him to embrace the spirit of cooperativity, but Nokto points out that if anyone could do it, they can’t do it in the next 30 minutes.

Well, there’s no help for it. Emma will just have to rely on blind luck. Gilbert probably put this game in, knowing exactly that she would have no help.  

Oh, no, no, no, that won’t do. Who does Emma think they are, amateurs? Nokto adds that if she came to them for help, she already knew that a straightforward attack against Gilbert wouldn’t work.

Uh, no, Emma just came to them because there was no one else available, she was absolutely planning on a straightforward attack.

Jin places his hand on Emma’s left shoulder, and Nokto places his hand on her right. Jin tells her to leave it to him, he’ll teach her a very special technique. Nokto will also cooperate, though he expects something in return.

Emma has a very bad feeling.

After most of the time is over, Emma returns to Gilbert, who had been leisurely looking out the window. Turning to face her, he idly greets Emma, only to come up short when he sees her face. Looking absolutely dumbfounded, he asks what happened.

(Of all the plans and eventualities Gilbert anticipated, this was not one of them)

Emma is not going to tell him. She’s not going to tell anyone what happened. Why, oh why did Jin and Nokto have to go that far? Maybe she should just quit right now before it becomes worse.

Oh, right. If she loses, it’ll be worse.  

Throwing all the shreds that remained of her dignity to the wind, Emma walks over to Gilbert and sits down in his lap, wrapping her arms around him tightly. It’s actually a blessing in disguise that he’s so cold, it’s almost a balm against her too-hot skin.

Gilbert asks what Emma thinks she’s doing.

(Seriously, Gilbert wants to know what's going on)

Her face blazing red, Emma is barely able to look into Gilbert’s eye as she croaks out that she wants a hint.

Gilbert eventually recovers enough to ask if this is some sort of honey trap. If so, Emma is really . . . he can’t say anymore without laughing.

Emma shouts at him to stop laughing, she’s desperate. Maybe she should have just given up and accepted the loss. But she’s already here, in Gilbert’s lap, wrapped around him. It’s far too late for her to back down. Instead, she clutches him tighter and shouts that she’ll never let go of him until he gives her a hint.

Gilbert considers this for about half a second before telling her that it’s okay with him if they stay like this forever. Not expecting this, Emma looks at him as if he has grown two heads. If they stay like this forever, Emma will be in big trouble!

And Gilbert doesn’t see how that’s his problem. In fact, he’s thrilled that she’s doing this of her own accord. To Emma’s horror, instead of her gambit working, Gilbert wraps his own arms around her, gently stroking her back.

As Emma’s discomfort grows, Gilbert just grins at her. The only way to avoid looking at him in her position is to bury her head in his shoulder. Gilbert tells her that if she wants to continue, she could at least kiss him.

Well, that is impossible. Emma will only kiss someone whom she likes. Gilbert asks if she doesn’t like him, but Emma is only silent. Gilbert complains that Emma is so sneaky.

Well, if Emma likes anyone, it wouldn’t be someone who makes fun of her. Gilbert asks if that means that she likes kind people, and Emma admits that she likes kind people more than mean ones.

Gilbert considers this slowly and eventually tells Emma to hand him the pouch. Curiously, Emma complies, and Gilbert lines up the three stones on the table next to them. He tells her that the stone on the left is worthless. When Emma just looks confused, Gilbert explains that her choices are either the middle stone or the right stone.

Emma is still confused, so Gilbert explains that she just said that she prefers kind people. So, this is a special service just for her.

Emma doesn’t understand Gilbert. She wonders if he’s teasing her, and she slowly faces the stones. Right now her odds of winning are 50/50, so she has to believe in herself.

Emma chooses the stone on the right, and Gilbert’s eye narrows. He admits that she got the correct answer, and Emma cheers, thrilled that she has won. She’s so happy and relieved that she has forgotten that she’s sitting in the lap of the Trampling Beast.

Gilbert notes that she has lost a lot to gain this victory, and Emma asks him not to say that. Suddenly remembering where she is, and whom she is on top of, Emma starts to get up, only to be restrained by Gilbert.

He warns Emma not to do this to another man unless she wants to find their corpse later. Emma tells him not to worry, she’s never going to do this again, not even to Gilbert.

Gilbert makes a disappointed face as Emma slides off his lap. Whether or not it’s a joke expression, Emma feels her heart pound in her chest. This is nothing, it’s just embarrassment.

To cover her feelings, Emma announces that the next round is the last, the deciding round.

Current Score: 1 win and 1 loss.

Round 3 – If You’re Embarrassed You’ll Lose! Hide-And-Seek Showdown!

The third game was a match Emma had devised.

It’s a simple hide-and-seek showdown. Emma hides, and if Gilbert finds her within the time limit, he’ll win. If he can’t find her and Emma escapes him, she’ll win.

Gilbert is overjoyed to play this game, he’s very good at hide-and-seek. Finding and killing hidden pests is not only his hobby but the favorite part of his job.

Emma asks him to refrain from killing her.

It’s dangerous, but Emma was always good at hide-and-seek since she was a child. Besides, there’s a secret spot in the castle that she’s confident Gilbert doesn’t know about. She is certain that she’ll be victorious, as long as she’s careful.

Behind her are her two reliable allies, who came to help her when she explained her predicament. Clavis, the royal hide-and-seek master promises to guide her to victory. Meanwhile, Leon has agreed to his role of referee where he watches Gilbert to prevent him from doing anything illegal or immoral during the game, so Emma can be free to hide. Gilbert asks if Emma really doesn’t trust him.

Ignoring his comment, Emma starts the game. Gilbert wishes her the best of luck.

Clavis is impressed, even he never knew that there was a secret room only accessible via a hidden passageway. It was a room Emma and Rio had found by chance while exploring the castle, and she hopes that if one of the residents, particularly Clavis, didn’t know about it, then maybe Gilbert won’t either. It’s no exaggeration to say that this room is perfect for a game of hide-and-seek.

Clavis reminds her that Gilbert is on a different level, he will probably find this room without much trouble. Emma admits that he’s right, and she’s already considered it. Gilbert is the Marshall of Eternal Victory, a genius who makes the impossible possible. With that in mind, finding a secret passageway and locating this room is well within his abilities.

Which is why Emma made sure to have Clavis on her side.

It suddenly hit Clavis what Emma’s true plan is, and they both have evil expressions on their faces. Emma tells him that she will stop at nothing and do anything to win this game. Clavis approves of this, and if she’s like this then it’s time for him to get serious as well.

As expected, Gilbert found the room. From behind, Leon very calmly and without any anger asks Gilbert how he already knows about the hidden passages in the palace. Gilbert doesn’t feel like answering, besides, if Leon uses his brain just a little bit, he’d already know.

Yeah, there’s obviously a spy in the castle who has rooted out the secret passages.

Looking around the room, Gilbert notices that Clavis appears to be the only person in it. So far, he hasn’t noticed Emma hiding behind the bookcase.

Emma holds her breath, the real battle starts now.

Clavis asks if something is wrong? Why doesn’t Gilbert come on in and look around a bit. Leon agrees, the hide-and-seek game isn’t over until he’s found Emma, right? Silently, Emma urges Gilbert to just take a single step inside.

There are about 20 of the Lelouch series traps set at the entrance of the room. If Gilbert enters, he will be in hell. Not even he can avoid the trap Clavis set up.

Gilbert announces that he’s happy where he is, he’ll just wait for Emma to come out to him. Leon reminds him that there is a time limit, but Gilbert only laughs; Emma will definitely come out before then.

Clavis asks how he can say that, and Gilbert responds that Emma is actually very fond of him. So fond, in fact, that just earlier she had climbed on top of him, straddled him, and hugged him tightly.

Leon asks if Gilbert is okay. In the head.

Oh, but it’s true. It was actually a very nice hug too. Usually, Emma is very shy, but Gilbert thinks she might like him. When she kisses him, her face turns so red, and her body shivers when he touches her. What could that mean other than she likes him a lot? Even now, Gilbert has no doubt that she’s desperately restraining herself from throwing herself at him.

Clavis is amazed at how far their relationship has progressed. Weakly. Leon asks if Gilbert is joking.

(Who's side is he on again?)

The betrayal!!

Gilbert sweetly apologizes for stealing their precious bunny away from them.

Okay, maybe what Gilbert is saying is true, but he’s taking everything wildly out of context.

Gilbert asks if they want to hear more about his and Emma’s ‘friendship’. Eagerly, Clavis asks how many volumes of material this romance series will go over, and Gilbert estimates at least 50 novels worth of quality and true content.

For the prologue, Gilbert will talk about all the different ways he’s touched Emma and made her feel good. The results are-

Okay, Emma gives up! She nearly collapses out from behind the bookcase, her hands desperately covering her ears. Gilbert laughs and announces that he’s found her, asking if she missed him so much. Emma yells that everything he’s saying is too malicious and out of context. Gilbert counters that it’s all true.

Okay, maybe there were facts in there, but Gilbert had gotten everything so twisted up!

Clavis muses that there were ‘facts’ in what Gilbert was saying. Emma tells him to stop thinking. Leon tells Emma that she has poor taste in men and that she should dump Gilbert. Emma wails for Leon to believe in her and her taste in men.

(Leon discovers what it feels like to be a father disapproving of his daughter's boyfriend)

Gilbert cuts in saying that he is deciding to have absolutely no idea what Emma’s talking about, but he wants to claim this win. Which means that Emma has lost their game, and now she is his to do with as he pleases.

Ugh. Emma wishes she could just disappear. Her only salvation is the Lelouch trap series that continues to separate her from Gilbert. What a pathetic way to lose.

Clavis asks Gilbert to wait. In Rhodolite, there is a tradition in these three-game matches for the loser to have one final chance to come out on top. Leon quickly agrees, it’s actually quite standard for the loser to get one final chance in Rhodolite with one final game.

Gilbert notes that Rhodolite is quite friendly to losers.

Clavis reminds Gilbert that he’s the Marshal of Eternal Victory, he will win no matter how many battles he wages. So, what’s he afraid of now? Would it really be so bad to have one last match?

Gilbert considers this and agrees that it would be boring to just end like this. Okay, he’ll be merciful to Emma.

Emma thanks Gilbert profusely, feeling like her head was suddenly yanked back from the chopping block.

Next time she will win for sure.

Current Score: 1 win and 2 losses.

Round 4 – Ms. Bunny Quiz Game

Emma looks at the final sheet of paper, written in Gilbert’s handwriting, and very slowly looks up at him. She asks what he means by ‘Ms. Bunny Quiz Game’.

Well, it’s literally a quiz showdown about Emma. She can ask Gilbert a question about herself, and he will answer it. He kind of thought this would be simple and easily understood.

If Gilbert can answer all three out of three questions, he’ll win. Otherwise, if he gets even one answer not 100% correct, Emma will win.

Emma asks if this isn’t too much of an advantage to her. Since it’s about her, there are things she can ask that Gilbert has no way of answering. Granted, if it was Rio answering instead, she’d be in trouble, but she hadn’t even met Gilbert until she came to the castle.

Gilbert asks if Emma is confident in her win. Emma is, and Gilbert points out that she should be overjoyed at this opportunity to win.

It’s too good to be true. It seems too obvious that Emma will win, but she can’t see the hidden objective.

Gilbert reminds Emma that she can still get help for this final game. He has a refreshing smile on his face, and Emma can’t see through to his evil plan. At times like this, there are only a few people she can rely on.

Sariel and Rio thankfully have some free time and are able to help her. Sariel is not thrilled to find that Gilbert and Emma are playing a game, but Rio assures Emma to leave it to him. He won’t overlook any of Gilbert’s wrongdoing. Gilbert asks what he’s done to make him so mistrusted.

Emma hopes that the two of them will figure out Gilbert’s evil plan that escapes her.

Emma has announced that she has already written down the answers to her questions on the papers before her, so Gilbert can’t say that she’s cheating. She and Rio are the only two who know what the papers say. Sariel is going to monitor Gilbert and make certain that there’s no way for him to peek at them.

Rio is confident that no one is a better master at knowing Emma than he is, and there’s no way for Gilbert to win. Gilbert asks if that’s so, he knows a lot about Emma himself.

Emma suddenly feels anxious, wondering why Gilbert is so confident. Even in this situation, where there is no way Gilbert can cheat, he has not lost his composure. What is going on with him?

First question: There is a place where Emma always buys food when she goes into town. What is it?

Gilbert complains that the question is too easy; she buys sandwiches from a bakery run by her elderly neighbors.

Emma is alerted, she’s only mentioned the place to Rio and the Bookstore Owner. How does Gilbert know? Gilbert only waves his hand and says that it was a lucky guess.

Sariel is doubtful, it was a very specific answer that one can’t just ‘luck into’. There are a lot of rats living inside and outside the castle that need exterminating. Gilbert only laughs.

Okay, so does that mean that there is a spy attached to Emma as well? That answer can’t have been a coincidence, right? Clearing her throat to hide her growing anxiety, Emma proceeds.

Second question: Where is Emma’s favorite place in Rhodolite Castle?

This is her trick question, and if she does have a spy monitoring her, they would have given Gilbert the wrong answer.

Gilbert muses that every day, Emma goes for a walk in the rose garden, which is considered the most spectacular place in the castle. He has no doubt that Emma likes it, but that is too obvious of an answer. If Emma is banking on this question, that means that the real place is something she’s confident Gilbert can’t guess at. So, it’s a secret place that she can’t enter all the time.

Emma is a well-known book lover, but most of the books in the castle library are reference and technical books. There is only one place in the palace that has the kind of books Emma likes – Chevalier’s Secret Library, home of the beast that no one can approach.

Rio is amazed that Gilbert knows about the existence of Chevalier’s secret library. Well, of course, Gilbert knows, basically, everyone does at this point. Besides, Gilbert loves ‘borrowing’ books from Chevalier from time to time, he’s never said anything when Gilbert entered.

Oh, Emma never knew that Chevalier and Gilbert were friends.

Gilbert tells Emma not to be so discouraged and asks what the final question is.

Final question: What is Emma’s special skill?

Emma is confident only Rio and the Bookstore Owner would know.

Gilbert considers her special skill, he doesn’t think that it’s making sweets. Emma agrees, she thinks of it as a hobby rather than a skill. Gilbert personally disagrees, she always makes him delicious sweets.

Oh, he gets it now.

Emma is liked by everyone, right? Today, she had many princes helping her, because they like her. He thinks her personality makes it natural for them to lend her their help, even though they are all such peculiar beasts. It’s a compliment to her that they care so much about her. Besides that, they must all find her very attractive, himself included.

So, Emma’s special skill is her perfect imitation of her butler, Rio.

Emma is off kilter for less than a second before demanding to know what that windup was about, and how did he get from that to her skill? Worse than that, it was what she had written down!

(But how did he out stalk Rio?)

Rio is suspicious and asks if Gilbert was able to peek at the answer sheet. Gilbert insists that he didn’t and asks Sariel to back him up. Sariel is worried that he somehow blinked and missed Gilbert cheating. Gilbert assures Sariel that he was most vigilant in monitoring him. Gilbert never had a chance to cheat.

Really, the natural explanation is that everyone underestimated his obsession with Emma. Turning back to her, Gilbert adds that he wants to know everything about Emma.

Well, how about that?

Oh, how scary! Emma steps back, but Gilbert quickly closes the distance between them and grabs her hand. The Marshal of Eternal Victor has won the game, completely. He tells Emma not to look so scared, he won’t do anything cruel to her.

True or not, since Emma has lost, she can no longer protest. Gilbert entwines their fingers, looking so happy that he might start humming. Emma’s heart is pounding, but is it out of fear or something else?

Worriedly, Rio calls out to Emma while reaching out to her, but suddenly Gilbert’s cloak blocks Emma’s view of him. Gilbert tells the room that their rabbit is now his.

Epilogue – The Winner’s Privilege

After losing the game to Gilbert, brings her to a quiet place so that they are alone. Gilbert reminds her about the terms, the winner can do anything they like with the loser.

Okay, but before that, could Gilbert let go of Emma?

For some reason, after bringing Emma to his room, Gilbert had her sit on his lap facing him while he sits on the sofa. He is holding Emma in his arms and doesn’t let her go. She’s put some room between their bodies, but there’s only so much she can do.

Gilbert reminds her that she lost, so she can’t argue about what he does with her.

Emma considers their position and wonders if that ‘win’ she got out of the gemstone showdown gave Gilbert ideas that she’s going to regret. Thinking of back then, that was not something she should have done to a distinguished foreign guest. However, all the regret in the world won’t turn back the clock.

A cold hand cups her cheek, as if trying to pull Emma out of her thoughts.

As the winner, Gilbert’s privilege is to go on a date with Emma.

Emma is confused and thinks about what he’s saying. It sounds like he wants to go out to the town with her, and asks if he’s sure. Since it’s Gilbert, she was expecting him to demand something far worse of her.

Oh, is Emma under the misconception that this will be a simple outing? Gilbert means the kind of date between a man and a woman. His finger flicks Emma’s earlobe and she reflexively covers it. Fingers run over the back of her hand, tickling it.

Gilbert explains that they will be together in the morning, the afternoon, and at night. Oh, they can also stay out all night long and return the next morning as well. Emma immediately protests, but Gilbert reminds her that he just won their game. Emma just stares at him with a look of horror, waiting for him to laugh and say that he was joking.

The back of Emma’s hand is stroked, and her face grows red. She wishes she can escape from this embarrassing situation, but the arm around her waist won’t let her.

Gilbert laughs, Emma’s face is so red right now. Is her imagination going into dirty places? Emma denies this, and asks what his goal is, first playing those games and then going on this date. Gilbert asks if she has any ideas of why two people would go on a date together.

Emma asks if this is part of his plan to mislead everyone about their relationship and further isolate her from the court. If a rumor about her and the enemy prince spread, it will become even colder for her at court.

Gilbert denies this, he just wants to know more about her. He notes that Emma has a suspicious expression, but he swears that it’s the truth. Emma asks if he’s telling the truth, and Gilbert insists that it is. He just really wants to get along with her. He knows that it doesn’t sound like a big deal to her, but it is one to him. It’s like a treasure.

To be fair, he would be lying if he said that he didn’t hold any malice towards her, but it’s also true that he genuinely enjoys the time they spend together.

Emma looks at Gilbert, but it doesn’t seem like he’s lying. Instead, he has a dazzlingly refreshing smile that makes her chest feel light.

Well? Gilbert thought that a date would be a nice way of spending time together. Emma considers their deal, no matter what, the loser would have no right to veto the winner’s choice.

Maybe Emma can have a little faith in the untrustworthy words of the world’s greatest villain. Truth be told, she doesn’t always hate spending time with Gilbert. Sometimes it’s fun and happy. Of course, there are a lot of painful and difficult times, so it’s not really a treasure for her.

At least, the games they played today might go into the category of ‘a good memory. Emma did have some fun during the day.

Well, that’s a promise then. Gilbert smiles, and leans forward, biting Emma on the cheek. Emma is startled and asks what he thinks he’s doing. Gilbert responds that this is kind of a promise token between them.

Oh, but to have a bite mark in such a place .  . . .

Yes, Gilbert agrees that it’s quite prominent. What kind of rumors will spread tomorrow when everyone sees it? Emma begs Gilbert to stop biting people. Gilbert complains that Emma says it like she finds it’s disrespectful, even though he only bites her. She’s special.

As Emma caresses her painful cheek, Gilbert looks satisfied. His face is full of joy, just like a winner. Emma doesn’t know what it means, but when Gilbert is with her he always seems to be having fun. She grumbles that Gilbert is the only person she would just let bite her.

There’s no real meaning in what she just said, it’s only that Gilbert is the winner.

~~

That night Gilbert passes Chevalier in the hallway and asks if he’s returning from official business. Chevalier, who is not at all put out that no one wanted to play with him, asks if Gilbert really spent the day playing games. Gilbert is impressed that Chevalier has already heard about it.

(Why does everyone but Chevalier get to play?)

Chevalier cuts to the point and asks what Gilbert wants. Gilbert only laughs and says that if Chevalier is following him closely, he can probably guess by now.

Chevalier admits that Gilbert’s actions in Rhodolite are incomprehensible. Gilbert asks how Chevalier would react to the idea that his motive is to be incomprehensible.

A man full of contradictions and incomprehensible motives is rare, Chevalier will give him that. Gilbert asks if that’s really how Chevalier sees him, and Chevalier asks if he’s wrong.

With a snort, Chevalier continues walking past Gilbert and leaves.

Gilbert begins to walk away too, but then catches his reflection in the window.

Oh, that’s what Chevalier was talking about.

Gilbert smiles wryly at the reflection in the window. It has an expression of sorrow as if lamenting the coming end. He needs to be careful not to show this face to anyone.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #gilbert von obsidian #event

[engie-ivy]

Merry Christmas everyone!🎄⛄

Short Wolfstar Fluff as a gift!

(And since it's actually short, for @wolfstarmicrofic 25th: Merry)

*****************************************

Sirius absolutely hates Christmas.

Just never got the feel for it. Which isn't surprising, considering the kind of Christmases he grew up with.

His mother and father being stressed about all the family members they felt like they needed to impress, constantly snapping at Sirius, already convinced he was going to embarrass them before the day had even started, Bellatrix taunting him all evening, but of course only ever Sirius getting in trouble as soon as he snapped and finally talked back at her.

It always ended the same, with his parents shouting, sometimes striking him, cursing him and sending him to his room. The worse part, however, was when Regulus would appear in his room later at night, angrily asking Sirius why he always had to ruin everything, and they can never have any nice family time because of him.

When he had left his family, Sirius had chosen to stay at Hogwarts alone during the Christmas break, rather than joining the Potters' family Christmas. He didn't want to feel like an intruder on their family traditions, or be confronted with their happy family joy, for that matter.

Now he's left Hogwarts, and everyone's been excited about Christmas for weeks, Sirius supposes there's no escaping it anymore.

As he walks into the living room, Lily is sitting on the couch, staring at the kitchen door while anxiously biting her nails.

"What's going on?" Sirius asks.

"I wish I knew," Lily replies without looking away from the door. "They've banned me from the kitchen. All I can say is that I've heard fire alarm twice so far, but James has assured me it was just 'unexpected smoke development', and the kitchen hasn't burnt down yet, so I think we can believe him. I've heard a few loud bangs, but no explosions, so I must admit it's going better than I expected." She finally turns to look at Sirius and gives him a smile that might've been meant to be reassuring, but looks much too forced.

Sirius frowns. "Lily, what are you-"

But before he can finish his sentence, Lily gets up from the couch and takes him by the shoulders, looking at him intently. "Sirius, we've got to remember that our boyfriends mean well and are trying do something sweet for us, okay? So we just gotta ignore the mess, and if something looks like it'll most likely not kill you, just eat it and pretend to like it."

This really gives Sirius more questions than answers, but he doesn't get the chance to ask them, as in that moment, James’ voice sounds from the kitchen "You can come in now!"

"Here we go," Lily says, taking a deep breath before walking into the kitchen followed by Sirius.

"Surprise!"

Remus and James beam at them, standing behind a set table. The plates and cutlery are covered in sticky fingerprints, there's a basket with mini-croissants in the middle of the table that Sirius is sure are not supposed to be that dark, and there's a jug dripping with orange juice, strangely enough not even half full, while in one corner of the kitchen counter butchered oranges are piled up. Sirius soon spots most of the orange juice splattered over the kitchen tiles.

James is grinning brightly, his crooked grin with his glasses skewed on his face. Many of the tips of his unruly hair are smeared with some kind of batter, his sleeves are rolled up and his arms appear to be sticky with honey or syrup, breadcrumbs, sprinkles and what appears to be pieces of a napkin sticking to them, and he's holding a plate stacked with pancakes, the bottom ones black, the top ones still dripping.

Remus’ eyes sparkle with excited expectation. His face is flushed from the warmth in the kitchen, which is partly conceiled by the powdered sugar sticking to his cheeks, his trousers are smeared with chocolate, probably from absentmindedly wiping his hands on them, and he's holding a plate of small, odd-shaped buns, with some sort of dark liquid leaking out of them.

Remus’ face possibly lights up even more as he sees Sirius.

"You're awake!" Remus says, haphazardly dropping the plate with buns of the table, so that a sugar jar tips over and a few buns roll off and start leaking their odd filling onto the table. He quickly moves towards Sirius, throws his arms around Sirius’ neck and pulls him close, smearing chocolate and powdered sugar in Sirius’ neck and getting stains all over his clothes.

"Good morning love," Remus kisses him softly. "And Merry Christmas."

Sirius absolutely loves Christmas.

#merry christmas #wolfstar christmas fics #wolfstar christmas #wolfstar holiday fluff #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar #jily #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #lily evans #james potter