#happy belated birthday dot

[vivalabunbun]

As We Are, We Will Be

Summary: A nonsensical question is proposed in one singular moment between a stoic and stoic face in one singular universe.

Word Count: 9k (It was supposed to be short and sweet-)

Tags: Alhaitham X Fem! Reader, Smut, NSFW, Fluff, a lot of fluff, slight angst, soulmate au, slow fic, established relationship, married life, Soft! Alhaitham, attempts at comedy, mentions of aging, slightly jealous! Alhaitham, mutual pinning, soft sex, vanilla, safe sex (wrap it up), riding (cowgirl), fingering, slow sex, making love, really bad expatiations of scientific theories and math, just two nerds in love.

Authors Note: Happy belated birthday and Valentine's Day to my favorite dendro nerd. A continuation of this piece, one I hold dear. A thought experiment based on nothing more than the feverish delirium of love.

It was just for a moment. 

A mere pasting instance in the contentious momentum of time when a glimmer caught your eyes in the muddled chatter of a crowd, a silver shimmer like starlight.

Interrupting your contemplation as your eyes impulsively search for the source.

A late morning on a Saturday, the markets and stalls were lively with families replenishing a week's worth of groceries. Bodies veering and easing through the bustle of the busty streets.

The wide breadth of life that moved all around you. Like a collection of small dots within the vastness of a universe. 

But amid the vast collection of blurry faces were the flicker of silvery locks refracting the late morning light. Originating from a pair, an elderly lady and an elderly man, their aged hands intertwined. 

Time had made her marks upon them, and gravity had pulled down on their wrinkled faces. Yet, the ends of their lips were pointed toward the sky. The corners of their eyes wrinkled as their gazes held each other's faces. 

From their view, do they not see the starlight hue of their hair? Instead, do they still see the vibrancy and youth of their locks which age had stolen from them? 

The image of each other reflected in their irises, was it from a time before the hands of gravity pulled on their creased skin and bowed bones? Would you ever be able to find out? 

“I wasn’t aware you had a hobby of people-watching.” A baritone voice ghosts over your ear. 

Jolting your head to your right, you come face to face with the interruption. Or perhaps, your mind finally registered Alhaitham’s presence just off to the side of you. His arms were weighted down with various bags. 

Oh, that’s right, the markets and stalls were lively on the weekend with families restocking groceries for the upcoming week. You and Alhaitham were no different. 

Glancing up at his ashen trestles and then scanning back at the starlight locks of the elderly couple, and then back to your husband. 

“Hmm, not quite. Just noting the fact your hair is the same color as an old man’s, Haitham.” You catch the subtle twitch of his brow. 

“Is that so? I hope you are aware you’re not immune to the inevitably of aging, wife,” Alhaitham returns your jest. 

“Well, with your hair color and grumpiness, I’d say you’re already halfway there.” 

“I needn’t expound on your equivalent levels of grumpiness, it won’t be long before your locks share the same ashen hue.” 

“I guess that’s why we get along then, dear husband.” 

“That’s one theory,” he huffs, a simple tone lacking any bite.

You pan your face back toward the crowd, partly because it’s getting harder to hold the neutral position of your lips, partly because your curiosity aches for an untold conclusion. 

However, when your gaze returned to the ever-bustling sea of people, the pair of starlight hues were nowhere to be found. It was regrettable, but expected, the elderly couple were nothing more than a pair of strangers in a crowd full of unfamiliar faces.

They were just a brief scene that disappeared into the moving tides of people. 

Leaving you with your unresolved musings. 

“Is there anything else we need for the week?” 

Alhaitham’s voice reels your consciousness back, swiftly you check the crinkled slip of parchment within your hand. Scanning down the list of written items, all with a neat little line crossed through their immaculately penned letters. 

“It looks like we got everything we need.” You tuck the list into your pocket. 

“Then it’s best we get home before our groceries are spoiled by the heat.” Alhaitham readjusts the bags in his hands. 

A hum takes its place as your response. Pivoting your body in the direction of your shared home. From the corner of your field of view, his strides were paced to coincide with your shorter steps. 

Studying the numerous bags occupying his hands, you can’t help but think it’s quite convenient to have someone as robust as your husband. Maybe it's these weekly grocery runs that are the secret behind his physique. 

Discreetly, your hand slowly slips between the gap of his arm and body, linking your elbows together. So that your frame and his could withstand the push and pull of the crowd’s contentious momentum. 

The neutrality of your lips had long slipped away, softened by the familiarity of his warmth. Even as your eyes were pointed on the path ahead, you had an inkling that a similar occurrence was mirrored on his lips as well. 

An inquiry your curiosity didn’t need to peek to resolve. 

 

That ache for an untold conclusion morphed into a new musing by the afternoon. 

The silver shimmer from that elderly couple’s hair truly was like starlight. Perhaps that’s the correlation that steered your thoughts down this winding path of pondering. 

Everyone, from those taking their first stumbling steps of youth to the slowed cane-assisted tramps in their golden years, is technically billions of years old. Or more accurately, the atoms and minerals in everyone are billions of years old. 

The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood were all forged in the hearts of bygone stars. When those bright beacons burned out they exploded in one last finale, expelling those materials across interstellar space. Stardust that found its way here. 

Here within you, and here within the slow breaths of the man in front of you. 

After being around for billions of years, does stardust ever get exhausted? 

That would be a sensible explanation for why Alhaitham had snuck away amidst hanging up freshly washed laundry. 

His tall frame stretched the expanse of the couch as his starlight lashes were shut, shamelessly relishing in a nap under the streams of sunlight trickled in from the window. 

Squatting down you observe the guiltless expression plastered over his resting face, still deep in the trenches of sleep, a small huff passes through your lips. Well, this morning you did have him carry all the groceries from the market back home.

Your husband does deserve this little nap.

Trailing your eyes down his neck you note the lack of a pillow, then as your gaze travels further you note the absence of a blanket as well. Internally, your mind tsks at this forgetful habit of his. 

Although his body and yours still have youth coursing through your veins, it doesn’t mean they’ll remain as impervious as they are now later down the line, especially if preventative measures aren’t taken.

Like having a pillow to support one’s neck, or a blanket to prevent chills from plaguing the body. 

Standing back to full height, you retrieved the missing artifacts, returning with a plush pillow and light comforter.  

Even when his head was momentarily lifted to make space for the pillow, and when the spare comforter was draped over him, Alhaitham didn’t stir one bit. At times you can’t determine if he’s a light sleeper or if his stubbornness refuses to leave the plain of dreams. 

It’s a true wonder of life how Alhaitham’s able to sleep so soundly at night given his extensive naps. 

The vivid sunlight illuminated patterns upon his cheeks and trestles, causing the ashen strands to dazzle in their refraction of the afternoon light. A sight your eyes just couldn’t help but be enraptured by. 

Maybe you could blame the warmth of the sunlight, or maybe the serenity of this quiet Saturday afternoon, or perhaps even these fickle inquiries about his naps for the yawn that left your lips. Now might be the prime time for some research. 

Lifting up the comforter just enough for an opportunity to slip through, your body settles in the space right against his. It’s crowded on the couch, the cushions unprepared for two bodies to occupy its entirety, the open edge looming against your back.

Even after all the shuffling and pressing against his dozing frame, your husband didn’t budge a bit. 

Leaden lashes still shut and lips set in that all too familiar line, chest rhythmically rising and falling in time with yours. The very image of unperturbedness under the blessing of sleep. 

“You really are like an old man.” 

At that mere jab, the corners of his lips tugged down while his eyes remained closed. A quick slip that confirmed your earlier suspicions. 

“Who knew you were so talented in acting, Haitham,” you snicker. 

A muscular arm soon enveloped your form, further pressing you against his chest as if to silence any more sardonic quips from entering his ears. 

It was quite the challenge to stifle those giggles before they could erupt from your lips. Peeking up, there’s an ever-so-subtle lift at the corners of his mouth. An express which yours mirrored. 

Studying the details of the lips just a breath away, a new musing worms its way into your thoughts:

 When the hands of gravity and time start to pull down on his skin and yours the same, leaving wrinkles and creases in their wake, will the edges of his lips still curl like this? 

Would yours mirror the same? 

A second yawn sneaks past your lips as your lashes grow heavier with each fluttering blink. Claiming a corner of the pillow to lay your head upon, the seconds between each subsequent blink grew longer and longer until your lids were too heavy to lift. 

Perhaps the stardust in your bones was exhausted, craving a short rest in his warmth. 

--------------------------------

There’s something against your back and your legs are tangled in something, sensations which gradually alert your dozing sense back from the fog of slumber.

At first, you only had the strength to peek open one lid, then promptly shut it. But in the nothingness behind your eyelids, something was halting your limps from stretching the weariness out from themselves. 

You tried again, this time fluttering both sets of lashes apart ever so slightly. There’s a dry film coating your throat and mouth, feeling the impressions of the couch cushions and bundled comforter imprinted into your skin.  

What time was it?

Blinking away the haze of sleep just enough to notice how the golden rays of a star were missing. A gray overlay was plastered over the living room despite the ticking clock hands displaying that it was late afternoon.

Peering back through the window behind, observing the congregating insipid clouds blocking out the azure sky. 

A sure sign of rain despite the morning forecast. Rain… wasn’t there something left unfinished on the clotheslines outside? The groggy recollection of responsibilities creeps into the forefront of your mind. 

The reign of your weary limbs slowly returns, and your legs languidly attempt to stretch out from the reveal they were caught in. However, their movements only caused a pair of longer limbs to ensnarl them further.

Alhaitham’s legs promptly caught yours, stifling any prospect of escape. 

Your displeased whine was responded with a disgruntled groan by the man keeping your body locked against his. 

Wasn’t your back looming just about the edge of the couch when you fell asleep? So why are you in this position now?

Your body wedged between the plush backing of the couch and his solid frame, the comforter swaddling you also didn’t aid in your immobility. Brawny arm draped over your waist, halting your feeble squirms at freedom. 

“The laundry,” you mumble.

“Later.” A blunt interjection from a groggy voice. 

“It’s going to rain.” 

“Less than a 30% chance.” 

“Haitham…” 

Your husband simply burrows his head deeper into the leveled pillow, likely an attempt to leverage the cushy material to block out your grievances. His ashen lashes still stubbornly shut, much to your displeasure.

“Alhaitham.”

No fluctuations in your volume nor tone, but it was enough for one teal eye to peek out from under ashen lashes. Trailing up to a subtle frown to the furrow between your brow, then finally meeting your unamused stare.

“Laundry,” you try again. 

A silent stare down, one stone face gazing upon an equally stoic face, like an immovable object pressed against an equally immovable object.

Which one will defend their title of most stubborn today? 

His chest expands with a deep breath, grasp enclosing around your waist before his teal gaze shamelessly vanishes behind closed lashes. Robust frame pinning you further to the back of the couch as he continues to ignore your huffy floundering. 

“Release me, don’t you dare-” 

Your grievance was soon muffled by a gentle hand pressing your cheek into his palatial chest. A move that stupefies the irksomeness bubbling within until it falls defeated into placidness. 

“Whether it be now or later, they’ll be clean regardless, it’s quite comfortable right here.” The resonance of his voice vibrates in his chest. 

You respond with a humbled grunt. In terms of strength you’d always lose to your feeble husband, wouldn’t you? 

There’s no point in peering up, for the pleased satisfaction of his resting face would bring a sour taste to your tongue. Thus, you merely adjust your limbs, coiling your arms around to his back and pulling his form closer.

It’s crowded on the couch, it’ll be troublesome if Alhaitham were to slip off the edge if his back were to stray any further. 

At this distance, entangled so closely together, the soft beats of his heart in time with yours like a rhythmic lullaby beckons the heavy to return to your eyelids.

The gentle drumming of his heartbeat coaxes out a final sigh from you, lashes descending down as your vision dims back into the realm of slumber. 

Slow breaths and heartbeats homogenize into a tender duet, tranquil enough to distract from the sporadic pattering against the glass and gradually increase in consistency. 

A less than 30% chance of rain doesn’t mean that there’s a greater than 70% chance of no rain. It’s merely a statistical probability of 0.01 units of more precipitation at a given area in the given forecast area in the time period specified. 

Known as the precipitation probability, calculated based on two factors: 

The forecaster's certainty that precipitation will form or move into the area X The areal coverage of precipitation that is expected, then multiplied by 100. 

Thus, if the forecaster were 90% certain that 30% of the forecast area would receive rain, then the forecast displayed on screens would read as a 27% chance of rain.

A crucial bit of information that seemed to have slipped his mind midst a quiet afternoon. 

A troublesome miscalculation Alhaitham tsks at internally as he wrings out the pillowcase into a sink before tossing it back into the washing machine. Button-down shirts and blouses, wrinkled from the process of twisting out as much rainwater as possible, sat in damp piles awaiting their turn to be rewashed. 

As he measures out the detergent he can hear the rattles and clanks of the pot and pans from the kitchen. A late dinner in preparation, a task which was supposed to be his this week.

When he woke up to the pattering of rain drumming against the window panes, the afternoon long gone, it stirred an ever-so-sinking pit of dread. Second only to the unamused stare of his wife as she replicated an overconfident statement:

“Less than a 30% chance, Alhaitham?”

How unfortunate it all was, that the area where this quaint house resides was part of that 30% of the forecasted area.

Teal eyes watch the bedsheets whirl and fumble as they spin in the wash, contemplating the circumstance and further action. 

There is only one spare bedding set in the closet, so it’d be wise to allow you to have it for tonight as all the sheets and covers get rewashed and dried.

Your bed is about the same size as his, so two bodies wouldn’t have an issue fitting. At this rate, the two of you just slept in whichever bed was the most convenient. 

However, given the current state of things, Alhaitham wonders if he should prepare himself to brave tonight on his bare mattress with a flimsy spare blanket and pillow.

He might as well return to the couch for tonight if that was the case. 

The accumulation of all the years of science, mathematics, and research, Alhaitham wonders if there was ever a bright mind who came up with a formula to calculate how displeased one’s wife is.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it be? 

More specifics needed to be gathered, something the man couldn’t do in the refugee of the laundry room. Thus, Alhaitham must brave a journey into the kitchen. His slipper-clad footsteps are slow and methodical as the kitchen appears from around the corner of the hallway.

Sights honed in on your back as you stood by the stove, a rich aroma wafting through the air. 

Sleep still dusted your hair, evident in the few unruly strands sticking up erratically on your head, you made no attempt at fixing it. One hand is too occupied with stirring the pot on the stove, and the other set upon your hip.

Your stance wasn’t exactly tipping the scales in his favor. 

Cautiously, Alhaitham made his way to you. Stopping just a few paces as your eyes peer over your shoulder, stoic gaze halting him in place just a few paces away. The faded imprint of the crumpled blankets and couch cushions on your cheek.

His hand twitches with the urge to run his thumb along the impressions, but rationally warns him of the consequences. 

“The laundry?” No discernable tone in your voice. 

“Everything has been collected and wrung out, I’ll rewash everything tomorrow.” It’s best to answer your questions this time. 

“Hmm, they were out in the rain for quite a while now. They were dripping out onto the floor when you brought them in.” 

“I’ve mopped away any rain and mud tracked between the back door and laundry room.” Teal eyes quickly checked the aforementioned area to ensure they were pristine before returning to you. 

“Hmm.” You turn back towards the stove. 

The soft ticks of the clock accompany the waning drums of raindrops against the glass, the kitchen hood whirring as a ladle continues to stir in a pot. A quiet lull engulfed the home. Treading on the side of caution, Alhaitham inhales deeply. 

Without opening the box, one will never be able to confirm to fate of Schrödinger's cat. 

“What’s for dinner?” 

“Hmm? Well, it’s raining tonight, what better to eat on a rainy night than some Sabz Meat Stew, no?” 

He’s careful to not sigh too audibly, lest he goes to bed with a stomach half-full of instant noodles and that miffed stare of yours.

Alhaitham decides to hold his tongue as teal eyes continue to watch you add more spices to the pot. Studying how nicely the apron is tied around your waist. 

But it wouldn’t be wise of him to stand so close when the fabric of his shirt was still damp with rainwater transferred to him by the soaked laundry and sky. 

His chain of thought was interrupted by the chimes of your phone on the countertop, catching your eyes as well as his to peek at the over. A certain name is displayed across the screen. It’s as if the hands of fate wanted to throw more salt into his face. 

Bahram (Manager)

It’s a Saturday night, for what reason would an employer need to contact an employee so late?

Alhaitham’s focus shifts to your gaze which is still honed in on the screen. A bitter tinge crawls up the tip of his tongue, threatening to spoil his appetite. Perhaps, he wouldn’t mind settling down in his bare bed with just a spare comforter without dinner tonight.

“Can you reject the call for me? He can wait until Monday to get me to resolve whatever he messed up,” you scoff before rolling your eyes back to the stove. 

Swiftly he swipes to decline the call, let your voicemail remind Bahram of the concept of ‘off time’. The phone whirs again right after the first rejection, but he simply swipes decline again.

Pushing the device away with a bit too much satisfaction in his veins. 

Glancing back at your frame, he lets out a sigh as he relents. Resting his head into the crook of your neck, careful to leave a bit of distance between your bodies and to not hamper your shoulder’s movement. 

“Hm?” You hum expectantly. 

“It was my oversight tonight.” A string of words a bit unfamiliar on his tongue, but stubbornness hasn’t been in his favor tonight. 

“And?”

“I’ll be more cautious regarding naps.” 

“Hmph.” 

The lull returns, him resting his head on your shoulder and you continuing to watch over the stew. Teal eyes on you and your eyes on the stove. Until your shoulders raise with a deep inhale. 

“Go get changed out of that wet shirt then set the table, this bastardized version of ‘soup’ will be ready in 20 minutes.” You reach for a skillet just off to the side. 

He hums this time, the liberation from treading in suffocating lull tugs at the end of his lips. He surmises that laying his head against you for a few moments more won’t be so consequential. 

The patter of raindrops still splattered against the glass panes of the window, drops which warped and blurred the scenery beyond the glass. Not that there’s any scenery to look at, not with the dreary clouds crowding the sky. 

A heavy sigh huffs through your nose, curling onto your side as you adjust your pillow. 

A filling dinner, a warm shower, and soft comforters. Factors that should contribute to a restful night’s sleep, or at the very least make your eyelids weary with the weight of lethargy.

Yes, perhaps those components should’ve granted you entry into the reprieve of a dream. 

If it wasn’t for the fact you’ve intruded into the domain of slumber twice already today. 

And the tempter who lured you to do so currently has his arm wrapped around your waist. 

Alhaitham’s chest rises and falls against your back, soundly asleep without an ounce of guilt over the predicament he’s partly responsible for. 

Lifting your head off the flattened pillow, your body twists around to fluff the stale stuffing back up before settling back to your position.

His body rested against yours just as it would any other night. But there’s a weight at the corners of your lips, one only grew heavier as your ears witnessed each content exhale resounding from the man who seemingly stole your sleep. 

If you were crueler, you would’ve exiled Alhaitham to the couch or his barren mattress. 

However, he’d probably sleep just fine regardless. 

Canting your head up, you flip your pillow to the other side once more. 

Your rolls and rhythm were abruptly interrupted by the clasp of two harsh hands pulling your hips into his, the contours of his rigor now digging into the plush of your ass. Forcing a stunned gasp up your throat.

“It seems like my wife has quite a bit of energy.” His timbre deeper from grogginess. 

Ah, all the twisting and turning you did just to adjust the troublesome pillow must've disturbed him. 

The softness of your ass cradled against his pelvis through the thin material of a button-down, an item borrowed from his closet that you’ve designated as sleepwear, and his sweatpants. 

‘Serves him right.’ 

Your attempts to twist out from his iron-clad hold only ground your ass more against the stiffness, earning a grumble from his lips. 

“Oh? And who’s fault is it?” You retort, still protesting in his hold. 

Snaking one hand downwards Alhaitham presses against your lower stomach to arch your ass further into him. Leaning his face closer to yours. 

“Do you want me to take responsibility?” His whisper ghosts over the shell of your ear.

You could feel the pads of his fingertips tracing under the loose button-down.

“Shouldn’t you resolve the issues you’ve caused?” A huff leaves you.

The outline of his shape pressed along your skin, the plushness of your bottom contrasting against the rigidity. 

“I can say the same to you.” 

The pads of his fingers trail up your heated skin, crawling along your torso, feathering touches alighting your senses like sparks. Massaging the tired yet restless muscles. You sigh in contentment.

The billowing button-down dragged up by his vascular hand, unveiling your skin to the cool sheets. Wandering touches slow as they rest in the valley of your breasts. His fingers enclose around one mount, gently twisting the defenseless nipple.

“H-hey! Hmph-“ Barely catching a moan before it fled past sealed lips. 

“Hm?” His lips are now right next to your ears. “Surely you foresaw this, I’m just helping my wife with all her excess energy.”

His forgotten hand made its presence known as it kneaded your hips, cunning touches breaching under the feeble defenses of your panties. Effortlessly brushing them to the side, long fingers encroaching closer to their destination. 

Your thighs react, squeezing together to prevent him from venturing further. Unfortunately, it was all in vain, for his fingertips already dipped into an all too familiar sap.

“See, you seem quite eager,” he taunts.

Stubbornly, your body attempts to buckle away from his influence. Face firmly pointed away from his lest he peeks at your heated cheeks. 

Alhaitham abandons the perch on your breast, two large hands attempting to tame the bucks and rolls of your hips. He releases a slow sigh into the crook of your neck. 

“Are you not feeling it tonight?” His hands remain where they were, but the strength missing.

At the lack of resistance, your hips seem to have lost interest in their writhing, staying within his yielding hold. Internally, you chiding your body for being so straightforward. The only thing blocking an answer from exiting your throat was that fickle ego of yours. 

“Won’t you allow me to make up for my blunders today, wife?” He soothes his hand along your leg.

With that stubborn ego of yours still biting down on your tongue, you simply nod your head. Feeling the heat of your cheeks reflected to you by the pillow. 

Permitting your thighs to give into the tow of his grasp. Allowing the grip of one large hand to pull your bent leg open, exposing your vulnerable cunt. Shielded from the view of the raindrops by a mere blanket. 

The hand snaked under your waist took swift advantage of the oppurtunity. Sliding one firm finger down to part the fold of your slit as his warm hand cups your greed. 

Alhaitham continued with the caresses of his fingers. Your lashes and lips pressed tightly shut, your leg still held in his tender hold. His slow breaths brush ghosting your skin. 

He spreads the slick along your slit, the tips of his fingers ever so often knocking against the bud at the very top. Teal eyes catch the sudden jolts of your body every time it happens. 

He moves his fingers downwards, slowly parting the now soft folds of your core. Feeling the subtle puckers of your entrance as his touch traced closer, more wetness dribbling out from the honeypot. 

The tip of his finger now encircles the fluttering hole. Your hip subtly bucked into his hand, as if to lure him in a soundless plea. 

Breaths getting deeper as your eyes follow his touch, the warm pad of his index finger twirling against your clit. Stoking a burgeoning fire with each slow circle. Your placid sighs fill the lull. 

His middle finger ventures past the entrance of your satin walls welcomed with a lewd squelch. Curling his finger against slick walls to test the give, he wonders if this hidden oasis is etched into his shape yet.

Diligently, his digit continues to sink in and out of your weeping hole, making your teeth sink into the flesh of your bottom lip. The squelches increased in volume as trickles of nectar began pooling on the sheets. Walls clamping around a lonely finger, it wasn’t enough to quell that mounting heat within. 

A second deft finger joined in, sliding past a hungry entrance. A tangled dance amongst gummy walls as they curled and stretched the space. The lewd squelches resounding in your ear, a whimper trapped in your throat. The heel of his warm palm now pressed flat against the soft mound of your cunt, every movement of his hand resulting in a grind against your clit. 

Each grind causes a hot flash to shock throughout your body, starting from your curled toes to the very top of your head. The jostling of your hips and legs gradually expels the blanket off the bed. 

“Mmph!” A whine from a sudden surge of bliss when his thick fingers curled against a spongy patch deep within. 

“T-there! More there!”

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being. 

He gladly obliges. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls. Ensuring to grind against that spongey patch.

 Your body twitches and flails in reaction. Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations. 

Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

Piqued by the sweet tune, Alhaitham watches the scrunch in your trembling brows. He repeats his actions, another mewl leaves your lips as your head leans further into his shoulder.

The mellow pace of his fingers suddenly amps up, retreating out only to clap back in as his palm presses into the twitching bud. 

“Ah! Haitham.”

A pressure mounting up, a sirens call beckoning you closer and closer to a hazardous cliff’s edge. The only foundation for your sanity is thousand-count fabric, thus you twist the silk fibers as tremors overtake your body.

Walls clamping down to trap his thick digits inside as it spasms. Muscles tensing and quivering as your back arches away from his chest, parted lips with nothing choking past them. 

Three thick fingers sink deeper into your pussy without a hint of resistance, as a reward he makes sure to roll your overstimulated clit in firm circles with his palms. Judging from the violent tremors in your legs, it seemed you were almost there. 

Just at the cusp of rapture when your hand tangles into his ashen-locks, canting your head back so that your panting lips could capture his. Alhaitham returns to gesture with just as much fervor in his kiss, swallowing down your sweet mewls for himself. 

With a singular gasp, the siren’s call had beckoned your sanity to drown in the murky depths. It’s as if you lost control of your body to the possession of pleasure.

Eyes rolled back and lips broke away as breathy moans escaped the prison of your throat, a haze heavy over your thoughts, pride long lost amongst the gale of an orgasm. 

The beckoning depths of euphoria welcome your descent. 

Your limp frame rests against him. A light layer of sweat coating your panting chest, blurred vision merging and blending the details of the ceiling above the bed.

Alhaitham coaxes the contractions of your core, riding out the waves of their squeezes and sucks against his fingers. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Entranced by the glimmering string of nectar stretching between his fingers and your oasis. 

Trailing back up to your face, he notes the return of your hazy irises from their ogle of the bedroom ceiling. 

“Better?” Teal gaze watching the pants of your chest as they steady. 

‘No, not at all’, a statement just at the tip of your tongue, but your lips were busy attempting to grasp deep breaths. The surplus of vigor festering into unquenchable desire. To be closer, deeper, more. You needed more. 

Where words fail, action must take its place. Even before your mind finishes up the scheme brewing within, your lips catch him off guard, plush lips embracing his in a tender waltz.

Your body rolls back so that your breast can press against his chest through the thin fabric of his stolen shirt.

At the tender caress of your kiss, teal eyes disappear behind ashen lashes, the clasp of his grip loosening. Allowing you the mobility to finally pull your body on top of his, lips never once parting until you were finally settled atop his broad body.

A certain stiffness makes its reintroduction against your roused clit.

Breaking the seal of the kiss as a line of salvia stretches between your tongues, arms pushing against his firm chest to prop your body up as you gaze down at him.

“Still have too much energy?” Haughty eyes peer into yours, yet you can see the ardor oh so thinly concealed behind the brilliant teal. 

“What do you mean? Aren’t you the eager one?” You hum, rolling your hips against the rigidness trapped behind the prison of sweatpants.

“Hmm.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth. 

Large hands feel down along the plumpness of your ass as they drag a flimsy bit of fabric down your thighs. Daintier hands pull down the hem of sweatpants and briefs. 

A fair exchange. Him helping you out of those ruined panties, and you freeing him from a compressed prison of cloth. Discarded and forgotten along the floorboards as the fog of passion obscured them from further consideration.

His vascular hands slide down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs plant themselves on either side of his body. Alhaitham coaxes the hem of his stolen button-down just above your midriff. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your clit, glistening with temptation. 

Lowering your hips a breathy sigh leaves his lips and yours as the ridges of his cock drag against your slick folds. A few slow rolls starting from his leaking tip sliding down, thick veins skimming against your swollen clit. Precum mixing with arousal in a sinful concoction along his length. 

Perhaps he should convince you to participate in more naps if he knew it’d make you this excitable. 

“Oh,” you hum aloud, pausing your hips as you reach over to the bedside table.

Pulling open the drawer and rustling about a box followed by the crinkling of foil. Holding up the corner of the packet to your lip, tearing the foil while your gaze held his. Taking your time in dragging the condom out from its package. Easing it down his length while your fingers traced along, feeling each twitch and shudder. 

“You sure do know how to test my patience.” 

“Hmm?” You feign innocence. 

A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Alhaitham helps position his engorged tip at your dripping entrance. Your hand guides him while raising your hips.

Other hand pressing his chest down for support as your thighs sink back down, a shameful squelch accompanying heavy breaths as your walls welcome his cock’s fat head.

Weeping pussy engulfing his girth in bit by bit until you clit kisses his pelvis. Sending jolts of searing pleasure that caused your satin walls to twitch and tighten. 

Releasing a breathy sigh as you gather your senses.

Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge before dropping back down. Earning low grunts and sighs each time your satin walls swallowed his girth. The rhythm of your hips is paced and controlled despite how Alhaitham’s fingers dug into your skin. 

A whine living your drooling lips with each slap of his skin against your clit. Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. The bedframe creaks with each calculated movement, back and forth, back and forth the wood sings along. 

Your head was light, intoxicated by a feverish potion of lust and desire. Feeling him reach the deepest depths, fat tip grinding against those spots which made your legs falter momentarily each time.

Utilizing the strength of both your arms now to support yourself. However, the jolts of pleasure that shot up your spine with each roll of your hips were too maddening to stop. 

His calloused fingers massage circles into your hips. Squeezing the plush flesh to ground his sanity, watching your lewd face as you shamelessly bounced on him for your pleasure. Observing the subtle ripples with each slap of your hips and the jumps of your perky breast. 

The ghostly touches of your fingers skim across his lips, prompting his eyes to connect with yours. Lush and glossy lips parted with your deep pants as your lust-hazed eyes peer down at him, unspoken plea inscribed within them. Who is he to not fulfill your desires?

Lurching his upper body up, he answers your plea, capturing your lips with his. Swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, deepening the kiss. A messy and feverish tangle as if to replace the air in your lungs with his. 

Mewls and whimpers muffled by his skin, your hands moving to perch themselves on his broad shoulders. Your quivering legs grew limp as the strength of his hands took over. Barely processing the sweet nothings whispered as your core relishes in the fullness. Like an ache that’s been finally satisfied. 

He wondered if tonight’s excessive vigor was fraying his control, or if your body was just this addictive. 

By now any notion of decency and integrity has long left you, your hand clawing into his shoulders, marking him with the scars of rapture. A harsh thrust of his hips recoils through you, a wanton moan reverbing off the walls as it forces your tangled lips to part. 

Tongue unable to produce anything other than strained moans, your head nods into his broad shoulder as your hips ground against his. The wet squelch announces the reciprocation of your walls. 

The intervals of those unrelenting rams increasing between the tender thrusts, half-lidded eyes trained on the shivers of your body. Cock sliding against satin ridges of your wall. Grunts and pants reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open. 

“Is this not enough?” You could feel the mirth in his whisper. 

Closer, deeper, more. You want more. Walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming heat within you. Hips floundering in harmony with breathy mewls. 

Pressing libidinous kisses along his throat feeling the vibrations of his grunts and pants, a deep chuckle was soon felt against your lips.

“Good grief you are a greedy little thing aren’t you.” 

A deafening slam of skin resounds through the heavy air, swiftly followed by another and another. A new tempo in this waltz of passion takes over like a wave sweeping both of you out to a sea of indulgence.

Possessed by the desperation of chasing a white light, your hand rakes deeper into his toned arms. Seizing anything to prevent your mind from abandoning your sinful body as his girth twitches within your velvety folds. 

Sanity like a foolish sailor who’s beckoned by the lure of a siren’s voice, uncaring of the rocks which will sink them to the very bottom of the bemused tides. Keening against your husband shamelessly, a shameless wife on the cusp of her second fall into ecstasy. 

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into the spark that lit your nerves alight. Toes arched into the air and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent babbles resounding through the room. 

Your devious walls clamped around his dick with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling against his girth eager to quell your aching greed. It was too much. 

His fingers claw into your soft hips, pressing your cunt flush against his hips with a sloppy slap of skin. The bulbous tip prodding against that weakness deep within you. Bruising grip holding your body in place as his lips crash back into yours.

Swallowing down his breathless groans with your sweet mewls and praddles.

A heat is spilled into the rubber, making your greedy walls quiver amidst the aftershocks of ecstasy. Alhaitham’s hips twitch with each subsequent rip of his orgasm, thrusting his length further into your crowded cavity with each one. The filthiness of it all prolongs your sinful depravity. 

Chest expanding with pants, your lopsided shirt falling further down your shoulder. Your eyes return from seeing blinding white, exhaustion drenching each fiber of your body.

Limp figure crumbling against your husband as his back lays back on the creaking headboard. Even before your worn mind could conjure a coherent thought, your hands caress his starlight tresses. 

As his own breath evades him Alhaitham releases one hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your smoldering skin, guiding your lips back to his. 

Basking in the warmth forged between your bodies, between drumming heartbeats and breathless lungs. 

Two bodies lay under silken sheets, skin freshly wiped clean of sweat as the crisp breeze brushed against the curtains gradually erasing the sinful haze. The cool air aids your rising and falling chest to pace itself. 

Muscles and bones heavy with fatigue, yet your eyes couldn’t bring themselves to retire behind shut lids. Not when those dreary clouds have finally retreated. 

The moon hangs high in the sky, finally free from the shroud of rain clouds, she sits among the twinkling dots. Twinkling dots were in actuality brilliant stars, some even larger and brighter than the beloved sun. 

Glimmering lustrously as they traverse through the contentious vacuum of space and past other nameless stars. A scene from a late-morning market trip wanders its way back from the depths of your memory, bringing its musings with it.

“Something on your mind?” A timbre voice beckons your conscious mind back from its trek.

Teal eyes set upon yours as your heads rest on plush pillows, just a breath away from one another.

“Hm, just senseless musings.” Your gaze shifts away from the window. 

In a changed world with millions of hands will your hands and his find each other to make two pairs of hands?

In a different time with a million pairs of legs, will your steps and his steps still coincide in time with each other 

In a new life with a sea of new faces, will a stoic face and another stoic face spot each other in the crowd? 

What is the likelihood of those odds? 

“If you keep letting your thoughts fester, it’ll only bring trouble upon yourself in the morning from sleep deprivation.” He shifts his position, supporting his cheek on his fist as he stares down at your face. 

You sigh because he spoke exactly what those whispers of rationale were urging you, but the scoffs of pride had deemed these rampant inquiries ‘childish’. However, it’s a bit hard to avoid his eyes now. 

“I was just musing about the soulmates concept again,” you confess. 

Alhaitham hums in curiosity. 

“Do you…” You take a deep breath, forcing the hard-to-vocalize question from your tongue. “Do you think we’ll only be together in this life?” 

He’s silent. Just the muted chorus of Summer crickets rejoicing over the conclusion of a rainstorm resounding through the space.

“In a different time, a different universe, or the next life, do you think we’ll be soulmates again?” You muster together the courage to peer up at his face. 

“I don’t recall ever reading an article or paper related to this topic, so it’ll be convoluted to get an answer.” He brings his other hand to his face, signifying his musings. 

Right, there isn’t even a definitive answer for what happens after life passes, an afterlife, a cycle, or nothing, no one knows. Was this the only universe where life exists or are there infinitely many far out there in the stars? Does anyone know?

Your hand pulls your blanket up to your face, partially to cover the growing shame creeping up your face. That haughty voice within was right, these baseless questions are silly and childish. Perhaps even too morbid to bring up so unprompted on this weekend night. 

What were you expecting Alhaitham to even do? Did you want him to give you an answer? What can he even do? A question you can’t even begin to understand, why would you even expect him to have some solution prepared? 

What to do now? Can you just take back your previous words from his memory, so he’ll just forget what you said? Maybe just ask him to quell any more mindless musings from plaguing you tonight by placing his lips on your forehead? So that you could finally drift into the realm of slumber. 

However, is that temporary solution enough? Enough to stifle the contentions and riddles clattering together into a clamorous ruckus in your head? Could sleep even spare you from their tumult? 

“The Membrane Multiverse Theory or reincarnation, hm, do you have any personal theories you’d like to share?” The sensation of his fingers grasping yours brings you back to reality. 

Glancing at him with a quirk in your brow, you wait for him to continue. 

“Who knows, maybe we’ll be the first to publish something for this topic.” His thumb runs along your knuckles. 

“So, is there a speculation or possible rationale you feel particular to?” Teal eyes reconnect with yours. 

“Well…” You sigh, relishing in the warmth of his hand as you concoct a half-baked theory. 

“There’s stardust from stars that had burst billions of years ago, that have somehow ended up on this planet. Subsequently, every being on earth has the atoms of stars in them. So, naturally by the law of conservation, the earth is where the atoms of the human body will return.”

“Based on the law that atoms cannot be created or destroyed?” He drones. 

“Yes, they all had to come from something before them. The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood. The atoms that make up you and I might become part of something else, or even of different people too.” 

“Hm, that sounds probable.”

“But, then this brings up a whole new host of questions, such as, if the new people our atoms become a part of are even ‘us’? Will they ever meet? What if you become a tree and I a rock? What if the atoms of you end up on one side of Teyvat and I on the other end?”

You peer into his irises, but you were just searching for an answer that isn’t there. 

For his beryl irises were impassive. But it was the impassive foundation you needed to ground your rambling thoughts and nonsensical musings into the desolate truth of it all.

The warmth of his hand slips away.

“Never mind, I suppose it’s the most logical to conclude that we’re just soulmates in this instance of time, in this universe, and only here.” Your hand closes over the empty space he left. 

Maybe it’s wise to dismiss it as silly rambling and then withdraw from his indecipherable eyes. Is it too late to put this plan into motion now?

The weight of a muscular arm is draped over your waist, hand pulling you closer unlike your ploy to escape. 

“But I have a few theories I haven’t shared yet.” He glances out toward the bedroom window. 

“While the theory of reincarnation currently doesn’t have any solid scientific backing, in some way, the law of conservation of mass does give a bit of merit to that notion.” Alhaitham draws circles into the small of your back. 

You hum in response. 

“The atoms that created us will return to the earth after us and become a part of something or someone else’s molecular structure. A tree or a rock, a human or a beast, it’s all probable. However…” Beryl eyes return to meet yours. 

“What’s stopping them from repeating the same molecular structures as right now?” He asks. 

Maybe it was his turn to peer into your eyes to search for an answer, an answer currently brewing and forging between your united gazes. 

“What’s stopping these atoms from returning to these exact molecular structures in the future? In a different time, the atoms of us now could one day in the far future come together again and make ‘us’ once more. Maybe just you, maybe just me, or maybe both at the same time.” 

He frees his other hand from the duty of supporting his head, broad body settling down into the bed and blankets, allowing his face to move closer to your level upon his pillow. 

“What’s the likelihood of those odds? Me and you again?” You ask. 

Alhaitham pauses. All the bright minds of science, mathematics, and physics, have yet to come up with a formula to calculate such a thing.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it even be?

The ashen-haired man wasn’t sure, but there was at least a statistical observation that would provide some basis. 

“A true 0% chance is an absolute impossibility, just as nothing can be proven absolutely 100%. Since we don't know the absolutes of time, existence, or physics. So, there’ll always be a non-zero chance.” Feeling the drums of your heartbeat against his chest. 

“Then, when they do, I think I’ll spend my life pondering what could fit into the spaces between my fingers like this.” He slips his hand into the gaps of yours, intertwining them. 

Then finally, he saw the smile he’d been yearning for rising on your lush lips. The ends of your eyes crinkle as it make its way to your irises as well. Your grip mirrors his as you nestle your face closer to his. 

“You won’t get tired of this stoic face?” You taunt.

“Will you get tired of mine?” He counters. 

Your shoulders quiver with stifled giggles. 

“No, no I won’t,” you promise him. 

“Then I won’t,” he promises back. 

His larger hand brings yours closer to himself, all the while your attentive eyes watch failing to keep the curl of your lips under control. 

“Any thoughts on the Membrane Multiverse Theory? How will your astute mind surmise the possibility of us laying like this somewhere else in the stars?” Honeyed-voice mimicking awe as your face inches closer.

“I believe I’ve shared enough, I’d much rather hear what your brilliant postulate is.” His tone casted with mirth, but the bite missing from teal eyes. 

Letting a soft hum, your mind rifling through all the paragraphs and journals your hands had ever thumbed through.

The soft rhythm of his breaths kept time. Stringing the words together on your tongue, you hope this monologue of yours will provide some amusement for him. 

“If universes are randomly put into 2 boxes of ‘yes’ and ‘no’, then on average the number of universes in each box would be the same. For every universe I’m not with you, there’ll be equally as many where I am with you.” 

A coin toss, perhaps it was all just a coin toss after all. Whether or not the Akasha paired a stoic face with another stoic face, for the gaps of your fingers to fit his so perfectly.

It could have all been a coin toss, for one half to stumble upon the other half cruelly parted from them by the hands of unseen gods. 

“Something akin to a bijection existing between both sets of universes?” He cross-examines. 

“Maybe… If we were to assign one type ‘yes’ to a positive integer, and the other type ‘no’ to a negative integer, then perhaps we can construct a bijection from the positive and negative integers.” Your brow furrows in contemplation. 

“If we submit this theory do you think the Akademiya would publish it?” 

“Not likely, bijections are usually made between sets of elements like numbers, not sure if bijections can be applied to something like whole universes. I’m just hypothesising nonsense,” you sigh.

“But they did publish the nonsense known as The Lifespan of Love,” he interjects. 

“Hm, then maybe there’s a non-zero chance they’ll publish our nonsense too.” You stifle a scoff. 

“Hm,” Alhaitham hums in amused agreement. 

His free hand pulls the covers further up over your frame then smoothing out the wrinkles. Observing the growing delays between your slowing blinks.

“Only you and I would turn pillow talk into an academic deliberation.” You couldn’t hold back the giggle any longer. 

He sighs in agreement, nestling his head closer to yours on the plush pillows, teal gaze never once leaving yours. 

“It’ll make any romantic keel over and die from how dry it is, wouldn’t it, Haitham?”

“I say let them.” 

Scoffing and shaking your head at his crude declaration as a yawn slips past your lips, a conclusion to this nonsensical academic deliberation.

With one hand still intertwined in the tender grasp of another you pull Alhaitham closer. So that the spaces of your body could lay against the spaces of his. 

The warmth of his skin mingling with the warmth of yours, pressed against one another. You drawing mindless shapes into his back, his hand tracing senseless ruins into yours.

Perhaps, an illogical attempt to echt memories into the stardust in your bodies. 

So he and you could imprint the memory of each other into the very fibers of your beings. Then maybe someday when these atoms return to these exact molecular structures, they’ll remember this too. 

The law of conservation of mass, the probabilities upon probabilities, and bijections used in an inconsequential pseudo-academic ramblings to no one but an audience of silent stars.

Alhaitham’s certain no academic publisher would spare a glance at them. 

But this nonsensical instance in the continuum of time, feeling the rhythm of your heart on the other side of his chest next to his own, is his most precious epiphany. 

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

#vivalabunbunfics #alhaitham smut #genshin smut #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham fanfic #genshin impact x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x female reader #genshin x reader smut #alhaitham x reader smut #alhaitham x yn #alhaitham x you smut #genshin fluff #genshin x reader fluff #genshin soulmates au

[fourmoony]

omg haii, i read ur mini seiries called hope, and i absolutely ADORE it!!! you're probably already writing a part 4, but i wanna request an idea - her first b-day and she meets regulus and lily for the first time where regulus is kinda quiet, not involving himself that much and hope penguin-walks over to him and hugs his leg and regulus goes full-on sweet mode omgg and he baby-talks her like "heyy hope" and "i'm your favourite uncle, right?" and hope babbles back <333

i would be in total awe if i saw this in at least one of your parts, it's also my birthday in 10 days so perfect fit in with hope's birthday!!

tysm for reading <333

hi! I love this idea... sorry it took so long, I've been swamped with college work. this one only features Regulus because the story got away from me, but I could do a separate one for Lily if you like. happy belated birthday, I hope you had an amazing day :) hope you like it

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 (𝟒) - james potter x f!reader - this part doesn't have much james content, sorry!

summary: Hope and Uncle Reggie fluff. 1.9k

masterlist - part 1 - part 2 - part 3

--

There’s balloons and banners on every wall, presents on every surface, toys strewn all over the floor, and paper plates dotted in various areas.

Hope stands in the middle of it all, in the eye of the storm, the brightest smile you’ve ever seen on her chubby little face. It’s strange, when you really think about it, that she smiles just like James. Considering she’s not biologically yours, nor his. But she smiles like him. Unabashedly, bright, all of her tiny little teeth on display, eyes crinkled at the corners from the sheer force of her happiness. You’ve wrangled her hair into pigtails and she’s wearing the pink corduroy pinafore Sirius bought her with matching pink socks. She’s the epitome of cuteness and your heart can’t take it.

It’s surprising – and yet not at all – that she hasn’t napped all day. It’s not long gone four pm, the party winding down, and there’s been not a single tantrum, nor a moment of calm from your daughter. James, on the other hand, has had several tantrums. He’s adamant Hope has defied all biological laws and is growing too fast. He says it so often you think he might have wished it true, because today, for the first time, you see it.

She’s no longer the baby James brought home bundled in a blanket, with a nervous smile on his face. She’s a bright, loving, happy little girl with so much attitude, so much love, so much energy, and you really feel like maybe she is growing too fast. You can’t slow time, no matter how hard you try, and that makes your lip wobble as you stare at your daughter, pointing sticky fingers at Remus who tries to dodge her, and your boyfriend, who’s trying to corral her with a baby wipe.

All the kids invited to the party have long gone, stuffed with cake and with a complimentary party bag. The cottage is no longer crowded or overrun by hyperactive children. Calm has resumed – well, as calm as any residence with your daughter and your friends inside of it can be. Sirius is half passed out on the sofa from hours of keeping up with his god daughter, legs swung up over the arm, a haphazardly placed party hat on his head. Remus is still trying to dodge Hope’s sticky fingers but is now the one with the baby wipe trying to corral her. He won’t win. You know your daughter and by now, Remus should know that his attempts are futile. But they’re both laughing, even if Remus keeps grimacing every time her hands land on his beige trousers.

“So,” James appears beside you, an overly fond look in his eyes, “Hope’s Epic First Birthday – success?”

You hum, lean into the arm he’s wrapped around you, emulating warmth and comfort and every bit of him you’ve come to love over the years – home – “Massive success. Best parents ever.”

James huffs a laugh and presses a kiss to the side of your temple. He tenses when the doorbell rings. It’s habit, after the war, but you’re safe now, so he releases you with a chaste peck to the lips and jogs off to answer. Remus has strong armed Hope into his lap and is wiping down her hands. You smile. He’s better with her than he would ever know. You can hear James happily talking away to someone, shoes are discarded with a familiar thump by the front door, and then he appears back in the doorway with a wide smile.

Regulus appears behind him, a tentative smile on his face. He’s so similar to Sirius it’s kind of shocking, but the differences are there. Where Sirius is punk rock and messy black eye liner with leather jackets and shaggy hair, Regulus is stoic, regal, neat and put together. It’s been an odd adjustment, watching the two brothers become acquainted with each other again after years of being apart, but it warms your heart every time share a smile or a joke, sometimes an awkward hug. Winning the war was mostly because of Regulus and his behind-the-scenes efforts and when Sirius found out, it shattered everything he’d ever thought about his brother. Watching him recover from what he thought would be mourning his brother, but actually turned out to be healing with his brother, has been beautiful.

“Sirius,” You call, “Regulus is here.”

Sirius perks up, all sense of exhaustion gone, and smiles wide at the sight of his younger brother. Regulus is wearing all black – slacks and a button up shirt. They have the same eyes, same cheek bones, same nose. But Regulus is, for lack of a better word, serious. He’s well put together, posh, a man of luxury, after inheriting half of the Black family riches two months ago.

It’s why, when you spot the sparkly pink gift bag in his hand, you have to bite your lip to stifle a laugh.

“Reg,” Sirius stands, hesitates, but ultimately decides to go for a hug, anyway, “You made it.”

Regulus hugs Sirius back, albeit a little awkwardly, “Of course.”

He turns to you and James, “Sorry I missed the party. All the people, I just…”

James waves a dismissive hand, bright and easy smile on his face, “Honestly, mate, don’t worry about it. Twenty screaming kids is anyone’s worst nightmare.”

Regulus smiles a little, nodding in way of an answer. Hope has wrangled her way out of Remus’ grip and is tottering across the living room floor, dodging stray balloons and wrapped presents as she goes. When she reaches Regulus, she stops, tiny fist clutching at the leg of his trousers. Regulus hasn’t spent much time around Hope. You don’t know if he really likes kids. But when he crouches, a soft look about his eyes you’ve never seen before, you release a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. James guides you to the armchair, pulling you into his lap.

You sit happily, watching the scene before you unfold. Sirius and Remus seem to be as mesmerised by this version of Regulus as you are.

“Hi, Birthday Girl,” His voice is quiet, sweet like honey as he holds the bag out to her, “This is for you.”

Hope looks enamoured by the pink glittery bag, let alone whatever could be inside. Regulus sits it on the ground, legs in a basket to get onto Hope’s level. The bag sits between them like a peace treaty. Hope stares at Regulus and he waits, face blank, lips upturned maybe a little. Her tiny, little hand reaches out, palm flat against his cheek and Regulus closes his eyes for a second before a wide grin spreads its way across his face. Sirius steps around them carefully to reach for the camera by the mantle. Without another word, Hope clambers into Regulus’ lap and sits down. She’s never been shy, so you don’t know why it surprises you so much.

“So,” Regulus starts, holding open the bag so that Hope can see inside, “Start with this one.”

He hands her a neatly wrapped gift, white paper with little pink hearts and you melt at the idea of cold, stoic, Regulus Black in a shop somewhere buying pink gift bags and wrapping paper. He helps Hope a little to unwrap it, and then holds it out in front of her. It’s a book, from what you can see, with a tiger and a little girl on the front cover.

“This book is called The Tiger Who Came to Tea. It’s a muggle book, one my cousin Andromeda used to read to me. I think you’ll like it.” He’s talking so quiet you really think he’s only intending for Hope to hear him.

Your daughter looks entirely fascinated, enthralled by the attention she’s gaining from Regulus.

Sirius snaps a picture, but Regulus doesn’t look up.

He pulls another gift out of the bag, a smaller box, which he helps Hope unwrap again, “Your Uncle Sirius says you’re going to be a famous Quidditch player, one day. This is Plan B. You don’t have to be magic to make potions,” He flips the lid on a little wooden box, engraved with her name, and inside are loads of scribbled on pieces of parchment, “These are my perfected recipes. You’ll go a long way with these, but something tells me you’re going to surpass them by a mile.”

Your lip wobbles as you watch. Throughout the nine months Hope has been your daughter, you’ve thought many times about her future. Sirius has a can do, no worry attitude about her becoming a Quidditch star. You think he’ll move heaven and earth to make it happen for her. But Regulus has given her the beautiful gift of his own potion recipes, and the ability to create and succeed in something she can do with no boundaries.

He’s given her an heirloom, a starting point, an incredibly thoughtful gift and it’s truly beautiful.

“Your mum and dad can probably hang onto this for a few years. But it’s yours, don’t let your dad nick it, I know how bad he is at potions.” Regulus looks pointedly at James, who wipes tears from his eyes as he laughs.

You place your hand over his heart and share a look you’ve come all too familiar with – how lucky are we to have a little girl who is so adored?

The last present Regulus takes out of the bag isn’t wrapped. It’s a teddy bear, brown and small enough for Hope to carry. She takes it from his hands with a wide smile, giving him a small ‘ta’ as way of thanking him. Regulus smiles, nods his head, “You’re welcome, Hope. Happy Birthday.”

She’s up like a shot once presents are finished – as is to be expected. She totters over to Sirius, who looks equally as teary eyed as you and James and shows him the bear with great enthusiasm. You stand to collect the box of potion lists from the floor, holding it gently, a smile on your lips. Regulus is standing now, so you look to him, finger rubbing softly over the engravement of her name, “Regulus, I- thank you. This is a beautiful gift. And the book, she loves tigers.”

He smiles softly, nodding his head, “Remus told me she made Padfoot wear a Halloween costume of a tiger.”

You laugh fondly at the memory as Sirius – who’s holding Hope in his arms as she wriggles – growls at Remus for recounting the story. Remus holds his hands up in surrender, a knowing look in his eyes.

“And the potions stuff is because there should be something from our world for her to access no matter what. I have a feeling she’ll be one of the greats, I wasn’t lying about that. Just like her mum.”

“Can I hug you?” You ask Regulus.

He nods, and so you do. It’s a little stunted, a little awkward, but it means the world over.

“Okay,” James claps his hands together, the remnants of tears on his cheeks like a little snail trail, “Cake?”

“Please.” Regulus nods and follows your boyfriend to the kitchen.

Sirius hands Hope off to James as he passes, who immediately reaches for Regulus. He takes her wordlessly from James, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Sirius reaches over to the mantle, hands you a photograph that’s been left to develop. Hope and Regulus are on the floor, your daughter curled comfortably onto his lap, smiling brightly up at him as he holds the book in front of her. He looks so happy, so content, nothing like the boy you knew in school, Sirius’ estranged brother. He looks like Reggie.

You smile, take your wand from your back pocket and wave it over the photograph.

In small cursive letters, underneath the moving photograph, appears: Hope and Uncle Regulus on Hope’s First Birthday.

Sirius beams.

#marauders #marauders era #marauders fic #james potter #james potter fic #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter one shot #sirius black #sirius black fic #remus lupin #remus lupin fic #peter pettigrew #peter pettigrew fic #lily evans #lily evans fic #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #regulus black #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #mary macdonald #alice fortescue #pandora rosier #frank longbottom #fluff #love

[adrift-in-thyme]

@uncleskyrule happy belated birthday!!! Thank you so much for your patience while I wrote this! I hope it's worth the wait!

------------------------------------------------------------------

Four knows what sleep deprivation looks like. 

He’s seen it spelled out on his grandfather’s face when long days turn his usual joviality to melancholy exhaustion and draws the shadows of half moons beneath his eyes.

He’s seen it painted across Dot’s beautiful features after an arduous night when the memories resurface, memories of a leering crimson eye, of claims to possession hanging heavy over her, of cages and darkness and smothering magic. 

He’s seen it shadowed across his own face too, when the battles within and without grow to be too much, darkening his features, drawing them thin, sucking the youthful fat from his cheeks, the light from his eyes.

And he’s seen it…on the faces of his brothers.

On Time’s when the moon is full. On Twilight’s when a quiet twilight falls and skeletal trees whisper in tongues known only to some. On Wild’s when the amnesia recedes, Warriors’ when phantom lips press across his cheek, Wind’s after he awakens screaming his sister’s name. On Hyrule’s when he gives too much, Legend’s when the adventures he never speaks of tell their tale in his petrified cries at night…

And now on, Sky’s.

Some may find it strange for a man who can drift off practically anywhere to suffer from fatigue. Add to that uncanny ability, Sky’s penchant for seeming one of the most mature of their little group, the most…put together.

But Four is well acquainted with the deceptions someone can tell through demeanor alone. He himself has been dubbed mature, put together, responsible. And while, yes, those labels are true (Four would certainly be cross if people decided to start dubbing him childish or, Hylia forbid, a disaster as they call some more unruly children in his Hyrule), the lie rests in the assumptions they bring about.

Beliefs of invincibility and impervious spirit. Beliefs that there is no need to be gentle or kind, no need to offer respite or lighten the load.

It is the same fate their leader suffers so often, the same Warriors and Twilight sometimes crumble beneath. Suffering silently, yet always strong. So strong.

And Sky…

Sky hides it better than anyone.

Four is uncertain whether or not he is the only one who notices his distress. Perhaps, he is. 

It doesn’t matter though. In fact, if he is the only one who has taken note of it then it is all the more important that he do something before Sky’s inevitable collapse.

But life never makes things simple. And in the end, he’s too late.

It has happened too many times now — a portal that separates the heroes into mismatched groups. Four thinks that perhaps, after his near defeat at the combined hands of the champion and the rancher the Shadow is attempting to be more careful. 

More conniving. More vicious.

Attack first and you won’t be defeated. Such is the attitude of wild animals and beasts. More than likely, the Shadow shares it too.

This would explain why in addition to splitting the heroes up, this portal also dumps them right onto a battlefield.

Or at least, it does for Sky, Legend, and himself. Four can’t be sure what the others are facing. But he can only pray it isn’t a sand-drenched dungeon packed with redeads and stalfos.

The unearthly screeches of the emaciated corpses fill his ears as he fights, teeth gritted, heart pounding. It’s all the three heroes can do to stay out of reach of their paralyzing cries.

Back up to escape one beast and you nearly collide with the mad swing of a stalfos’ claymore. 

Four winces as the very tip of a blade slices across his left arm and leaves an angry gash in its wake.

That’s going to need a bit of potion to remedy.

Beside him, Legend growls what sounds like a curse as he plunges his hand into his pouch and retrieves a fire rod. He brings it in a sweeping horizontal arc. In a blaze of blistering heat, a group of the monsters fall.

“Well done,” Four says with a breathless smirk. He plunges his sword into the gaping chest cavity of one of the stalfos still struggling for survival on the darkened floorboards. With a raspy exhale, it dissolves into ash. “I think you just turned the battle in our favor.”

“I’d better have,” Legend huffs. “The sooner we get rid of these things, the sooner we can get out of here.” He screws up his face in a grimace. More monsters crumple beneath his skilled hands. “It smells like death.”

It does, indeed, Four thinks as, finally, the last of the monsters fall. The stench of it hangs heavy, permeating the thick darkness that surrounds them, wafting from the thin threads of light carrying from faltering torches. 

But now that the battle is over they can focus on escape. Hopefully, to a place where it proves easier to breathe.

He sheathes his sword, glances around. The gash on his arm throbs and the various bruises and smaller cuts he earned join in its stomach-churning beat. Still, it could have gone far worse. 

“We all okay?” Legend asks, bangs falling into his face as he replaces his fire rod. 

“Yes,” Four says. “How about you…Sky?”

His voice pitches an octave higher as he catches sight of the Skyloftian, turning the question almost into an exclamation. 

The knight lies crumpled where he had stood mere moments before. The Master Sword lies fallen beside him, his cape flows over him like a blanket of snow. His breath comes in shuddering gasps that grate upon Four’s ears as he races to his side. 

“Sky!” 

He shakes him, slightly, and hazy blue orbs flutter open. Sky groans. 

“What happened?” Legend drops down beside him, panic in his voice and a half-empty potion bottle in his hand. “Did a monster get him?”

Four shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” A quick inspection provides no sign of blood or other injury. But Sky’s face is ashen and he shudders as though in the throes of fever. “Sky, are you hurt?”

“N-not hurt.” Sky curls his fingers into a fist, as though attempting to gather strength. “J-just…just…” He swallows, tries to drag himself up, and nearly collapses again. It’s only Four and Legend’s quick movement that keeps him upright. “‘M fine.”

“Like hell you are!” Legend’s eyes are blazing with emotion now. “Sky, what happened?”

Sky shudders again. He glances down at the trembling hands he has folded into one, white-knuckled fist. There is a certain helplessness in the look.

“I dunno,” he croaks. “Was fighting and the room start-started swirling.” He curls in on himself further, and Four wonders if the next shaky exhale brings tears with it. His voice is very small. “I just-just fell.”

“And you didn’t have the strength to get back up,” Four says, solemnly. An idea is already forming in his head, a confirmation of what he has witnessed these past few hellish weeks. 

I should’ve acted sooner.

But there had been fights both in and out of the group, and injuries and secrets unveiled. There had been discussions long overdue, restorations to be made in the face of pain and sorrow. And he, he had been in the midst of it all. 

Between explaining the Four Sword and its powers and making up with Wild, he just hadn’t found the time…

“You haven’t been sleeping, Sky…have you?”

Now, Sky raises his head, glazed eyes focusing unsteadily on Four. Slowly, he shakes his head.

Legend blows out a sigh. He sits down beside Four and brings a dusty hand over his sweaty brow. 

“Sleep deprivation? Yeah, that’ll do it. How long haven’t you been sleeping?” 

Sky swallows. A beat passes, then another. The oppressive feel of death begins to crowd in on Four again. He struggles to breathe beneath it.

Then, “Since Twilight,” Sky whispers, and Four’s heart plummets to the depths of his stomach.

Legend’s hand falls to his lap with more viciousness than defeat. His face screws up in an expression that toes the line between sorrowful and intensely irritated. “I knew something was up! I knew it! I should’ve — ”

“Couldn’t have done anything,” Sky croaks, leaning further into Four’s touch. A small smile quirks his lips. “Was me that should-should’ve d-done something in the…in the first place.”

Legend’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

Sky looks back down at his hands.

Another theory is beginning to form in Four’s mind now, joining with the previous one, enlarging it, and embellishing it until things start to make sense. A theory born out of something Sky has said before, a snippet he had overheard and tossed aside in favor of giving his full attention to fighting the Yiga that had taken Wild captive.

“I’m sorry, champion,” the Skyloftian had said as he had helped Warriors tend to the boy’s wounds. “I was late…again. I’m sorry.”

“You blame yourself.” Four measures the words carefully, speaking each one with intricate precision. Lest he step in the wrong place and cause them all to plummet. “You blame yourself for what happened to Twilight.”

Sky lifts his bloodshot eyes. A tear wells in one of them then spills over to slither gracefully down his cheek. 

“Why would you blame yourself?” Legend asks, even as comprehension burns in his violet irises. “It’s not your fault the rancher got hit. You weren’t even near him when it happened!”

“I was near enough.” Sky’s voice is quieter than ever now, more like a whisper than anything else. “I know the skyward strike. I could’ve hit that…that thing if I’d been…b-been faster.” His breath hitches. But to Four it sounds defeated more than panicked. “I was late and he paid for it. I’m a-always…”

He curls in on himself, weighed down by exhaustion, shuddering with pain and sorrow. Legend looks at Four and Four looks at Legend. Then, slowly, together they reach out and draw Sky into their arms.

It’s strange. Four hadn’t taken Legend for someone willing to show physical affection freely. But he embraces the Skyloftian as though it is no price to pay. As though he has done so before.

Long nights. A shuddering sob. Soft feet dressed in boots with wings adorning their sides. Whispers in the dark that exhaustion muddles before Four can make them out. Amethyst eyes staring from over a hazy cloud of silken white. Sliding shut as a larger form huddles deeper into an embrace.

Sky shivers again and Legend holds him tighter.

“It’s not your fault,” Four murmurs, pouring every ounce of confidence he possesses into those words and praying that it is enough. “It’s not your fault, Sky. You did everything you could do for him. There’s nothing else you could have done.”

Sky doesn’t reply. 

They hold him, whispering assurances, as his tears wet their tunics and his fatigued body quakes beneath the burden he forces it to carry. They hold him until, at last, in the murky darkness, surrounded by carcasses of monsters and piles of resting sand, he drifts off.

In the arms of his brothers.

#trin writes #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu sky #lu legend #lu four #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #angst

[comphy-and-cozy]

The After Party

Pairing: Brady Skjei x Reader (f) x Andrei Svechnikov

Summary: When your new fling Andrei invites you to his joint birthday party, you’re surprised to learn that it’s a past flame who shares his birthday. And surely a double birthday calls for a double celebration — even if that means that you are the gift.

Word Count: 6.3K

Author's Note: Happy belated birthday, @smileysvech! Your bday gang bang awaits. 😘 Thanks for letting me take creative filth liberty to write your ultimate fantasy with my two favorite Carolina princes. Also S/O to @ryanpulock for literally remaking two gifs for my graphic and for encouraging the depravity. I’m not sure if anyone’s ever written this on tumblr dot com before so… enjoy!

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Light alcohol use/mention, swearing, one (1) use of Y/N. Threesome (MFM - no MxM), fingering (vaginal + anal - f receiving), oral sex (m + f receiving (vaginal + anal)), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, anal sex (f receiving), double penetration, creampie oh my god this is so depraved. **Please do your research before engaging in any sexual activity but especially anal sex. This is fiction and by no means any indication of how one should prepare. :)

Masterlist

When Andrei Svechnikov slid into your DMs, you were shocked, to say the least. When he showed genuine interest, asking you on a real date instead of the standard late-night meet up, you were even more surprised. 

That was two months ago. Since then, you’ve crossed a myriad of unexpected things off your list with regard to Andrei Svechnikov. You’ve had a sleepover—with just cuddling—and gone out to breakfast, even started a small collection of Carolina Hurricanes t-shirts in your drawer, remnants of late nights and slow mornings with the Russian superstar. You’ve met a small handful of his teammates—always introduced vaguely, with no title to give you any inkling of where you stood relationship-wise, or even how he really feels about you. 

Tonight is your next ‘first’: a Canes party. Andrei’s birthday party, to be specific, meaning your man (date? Boyfriend?)—whatever—is the star of the show.

To say you’re nervous would be an understatement, hence the extra shot before your Uber arrives to take you to Andrei’s. If he notices, he doesn’t seem bothered, greeting you with a smirk and a kiss on the cheek.

“You look hot.”

“Well, I have to look nice for your birthday, don’t I?” you say with a shy smile, still not used to this Adonis of a man complimenting you and checking you out so shamelessly. He responds with a slap to your ass and something murmured about a birthday gift later that earns a dull throb between your legs as you follow him out the door. 

As you’re walking into the party—at the house of one of his teammates, whose name he hadn’t mentioned—Andrei takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers between his large ones. The action causes the butterflies in your chest to flutter excitedly at the outward display of affection.

It doesn’t take long for a drink to find its way into your hand and several introductions to take place. You’re still just Your Name, No Title, though your adrenaline barely lets you dwell on it, focusing instead of learning names and not making a fool of yourself. While you make small talk with Sebbe, the side profile of a handsome brunette catches your eye. He’s laughing, a crinkle around his eye as he smiles, and there’s something about his laugh that feels so familiar…

Andrei approaches as you’re building the courage to ask who the mystery man is. With his arm slipped casually around your waist, the question disappears as quickly as it came. Sebbe teases Andrei, who blushes and nudges him with his leg.

When Sebastian takes his leave, called to the rowdy game of flip cup outside, you’re left alone with Andrei. He gives your hip a reassuring squeeze, almost as if to say, you’re doing great. You barely have time to process. before someone is bounding up to the two of you like a golden retriever—and of course, it’s none other than your brunette mystery man. 

“Svech, the birthday boy!” he greets, clapping his hand against Andrei’s in a greeting. Andrei smiles, then gestures to you, ready to introduce you. Your eyes slide up to his, instantly registering why he’s so familiar—

“Brady?”

You watch as the same realization dawns on his face, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh, shit — hey, Y/N!”

“What are you doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” he shoots back, though his eyes flick to Andrei with a hint of realization before his beautiful brown irises are back on yours. 

Andrei pauses, confusion written on his face as he looks between the two of you. He quickly racks his brain, trying to remember if he’d already introduced you. The memory never comes, though, because he hasn’t, and he realizes a moment too late that you two already know each other, somehow, some way.

“You two know each other?”

You bite your lip, contemplating how you want to approach as you glance over at Brady. Because how do you tell your new fuck buddy that his teammate is your former fuck buddy?

“Brady and I…”

“We used to—”

“—we used to hang out when he lived in New York,” you finish for him, your eyes shifting hopefully to Andrei, praying that he won’t read between the lines and that Brady will take the hint to keep his mouth shut.

“Oh,” is all Andrei says, and in an instant you know that he has, in fact, put the pieces together. Of course, the way Brady’s eyes are glittering as he looks at you doesn’t help, either. You’re sure he’s reflecting on one of the many times he had you crying out his name in his bed after a party not-so-dissimilar to the one you’re at.

“Welcome to our joint birthday party,” he says with a warm smile, and you’re thankful that he’s decided to keep any extracurricular thoughts to himself.  “Did Svech tell you we share the same birthday?”

“No, he didn’t,” you smile back, offering him a ‘Happy Birthday’ as you raise your drink, taking an extra long gulp in an effort to aid your nerves. 

Brady thanks you, then excuses himself to greet a few other teammates who’ve walked in, leaving you standing awkwardly with Andrei. He’s quiet, toying with the label on his beer bottle, and you shift uncomfortably. 

Is he mad? Does he think I’m a whore? 

“I can leave, if you want me to,” you finally say quietly, deciding to just address the elephant in the room; Andrei isn’t stupid and has surely figured it out. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, instead casting your gaze to the hardwood floor. You know you didn’t do anything wrong, but you’d understand if he was no longer interested given the layer of complication Brady added to your relationship. 

Your words make him pause, and you can feel his eyes on you. He tucks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up to face him, looking you firmly in the eye. “No. I want you here.”

A rush of emotion floods your system, almost embarrassed at his display of affection. He’s never been so direct with you, and part of you wonders if the Brady discovery has forced it out of him. With a nod, you smile as he presses his lips to yours softly. 

Later, you find yourself in the hot tub with Andrei, Marty, and Nykki as the party starts to wane down, both the water and the heat in Andrei’s eyes causing your body to warm from the inside out. The conversation is light, casual, and your uncertainty after your unexpected reunion with Brady might as well have never happened. 

When Marty and Nykki bid their farewells a little while later, you’re alone with your new Russian friend, who scoots closer to you in the otherwise empty hot tub. Underneath the water, his large hand reaches for your knee, giving you a squeeze. You offer him a smile, trying to hide the effect he has on you.

“Brady seems pretty excited that you’re here.”

“I’m sure it was just the alcohol,” you wave off his comment, doing your best to hide your surprise that he’s returned to the topic.

Andrei hums, and you know he doesn’t believe your indifference, your nonchalant response. You wouldn’t either, if the roles were reversed. 

“It really wasn’t a big thing,” you add, feeling the need to clarify—to justify your past relationship. “It was totally casual.”

And then you feel his fingers take flight in a slow glide on your leg. Your breath hitches slightly when you realize, seeing the tiny smirk that creeps onto his face. His movements are skewed by the distortion in the water and the ripple in the surface, so he moves confidently and with little hesitation.

“Did he touch you here?” his voice purrs in your ear, his hand sliding up your thigh. 

“Andrei…”

“How about here?” his other hand caresses your breast, your nipple hardening under his touch despite the heat of the water. 

“Did he make you come?”

Up ‘til now, Andrei has been more than satisfactory in the bedroom, but he’s reserved. He’s not afraid to leave marks and show his strength a little bit, but you can tell he’s been holding something back, that there’s another layer hiding beneath his kind surface. He’s confident, that much is clear, but you’ve sensed an almost cocky interior that’s been waiting to make an appearance, biding its time until it can ravage you.

“Sure fuckin’ did, bud,” a voice that isn’t yours sounds from the patio. Both you and your companion look up in surprise, unaware that anyone was around. 

Brady stands with a hand in his pocket, a bottle of beer held loosely in his other as he observes the scene in front of him. You don’t know how long he’s been there, but you assume it’s been long enough for him to glean what’s happening—Andrei, jealous, claiming you back into his possession. Part of you wonders if he’d want to watch.

“Made her scream quite a bit, too.”

Instantly, you feel Andrei tense beside you, hand gripping onto your thigh as Brady welcomes himself into the hot tub. He’s calm, cool, collected, fully aware he’s riling Andrei up and flustering you at the same time.

Once he’s settled, he takes another swig of his beer before nodding at you. “Have to say, you were one of the biggest reasons I was disappointed to leave New York when I got traded.”

Andrei grimaces, the pulse point in his neck ticking. He knows what Brady’s doing, too, and he’s weighing his options. The last thing he wants to do is fight his own teammate, but he does want to wipe that smug expression off of his handsome face. Fuck, why did your previous exploit have to be him—the handsome Disney prince?

As he watches you and Brady make small talk, playing catch up on each other’s lives, Andrei contemplates. He could fall to follow Brady’s whims, loosening the control he has and blurring the line of who you’re here to see. 

Or he could push back. Assert himself, solidifying his place in your life as your man. 

And somehow, the second option seems much more appealing.

“Babe, come on,” he says, interrupting Brady’s hilarious story about the time he took the wrong subway in NYC, ignoring the way you giggle. “Let’s go into the sauna.”

Puzzled at the abrupt change of pace, you look at him and watch as he offers you his hand to help you out of the hot tub with a smile. With a shrug, you send Brady an apologetic glance before accepting it. You can feel his eyes on your ass as you step out, the warm water falling from your body.

Once you’re inside the sauna, Andrei turns up the temperature. As he sits down, he pulls you into his lap, easily adjusting your body until you’re straddling him. The wooden bench is warm and hard beneath your knees, but the way Andrei is looking at you is enough to distract you from any discomfort. 

His hand glides along your jaw, smirking once he sees the hitch in your throat. Part of you is anxious, worried that someone will walk in. Your mind flashes to Brady, sitting in the hot tub just around the corner, to the times where you’d been in the exact same position in his lap—though, admittedly, never in a sauna.

“I don’t mind that you slept with him,” comes Andrei’s deep voice, murmured lowly as he continues to trail light circles over your damp skin. Relief floods your mind, quickly replaced by surprise when he adds, “Actually, it’s kinda hot.”

“It is?”

Andrei nods with a hum, nipping at a spot on your neck. “Yeah. S’like he warmed you up for me.” 

Between his words and the heat of his mouth against your skin, you mewl. Before you have a chance to say anything back, his pillowy lips are pressing against yours in an open-mouthed kiss, hot and full of fire and unlike any other time he’s kissed you before. Surely the steam and the dim lighting adds to the aura, moisture building between your thighs as you feel where his groin is pressed against you.

“Don’t think I’d mind sharing,” he mumbles against your lips, the deep vibration of his voice buzzing on your mouth. You whimper at his implication, the thought of both of their lips working sinful magic on you almost too much to bear.

Of course, he notices your reaction; it’s impossible to ignore the way your hips roll steadily in his lap. His lips curl into a smile against yours. “Yeah? You’d like that?”

He pulls away, only slightly, to gauge your response. You cast your eyes down shyly, embarrassed, which only makes him smile harder at the contrast—shy despite admitting wanting to be fucked by two men. It’s cute, and it makes him want to ravage you even more than he already does.

“Could go get him right now, if you want,” he says softly. “It is our birthday, after all.”

Brady’s eyes glitter as he takes in the sight of you and Andrei approaching, hand in hand. Something’s different though, judging by the heave of your chest and the way your eyes avert his gaze; briefly, his mind flickers to what happened inside the sauna to yield your reaction. Andrei’s confident, smug, nodding at him in greeting. Something shifts in the air as they communicate silently, messages sent through a jerk of Andrei’s head and a sly smirk.

Eyebrows raised, Brady glances at you, hoping to catch your eye. The shyness of your glance is all he needs to confirm that you’re in, and a toothy grin breaks out on his handsome face. 

“Oh? You gonna give us both a little birthday treat?” he asks, taking in the way you’re nervously chewing on your lip.

The sound of water sloshing has you looking up, seeing water sliding down Brady’s muscular body as he stands up. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he makes his way down the steps and approaches you, tucking a finger under your chin. Flashes of silver in his hair shine in the dim light. “Aw, don’t be shy, sweetheart. You know I only bite if you want me to.”

His less-than-subtle words make the butterflies in your chest beat their wings, heart ticking a touch faster with both of them in such close proximity. It had never really formally ended with Brady, only a few texts exchanged to let you know he was moving and a vague promise to reach out the next time he was in town. He hadn’t, but you weren’t offended; it had never been that kind of relationship.

The indefinite end to your little tryst is what you attribute to the excited pulse of your heart in your throat, able to easily recall the feelings for Brady that had been left dormant over the last few years. They don’t compete with what you feel for Andrei, but they’re enough to have you buzzing as he leads you into the house.

The next thing you know, you find yourself in Brady’s bedroom—foreign to you, though you recognize the bed frame and the bookshelf from his apartment in New York. You shiver, cool now that the air conditioning hits your damp skin. It’s quickly remedied when Andrei’s firm body approaches you from behind, his broad, muscular chest pressed against your back while his arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against him. 

His lips begin a slow, teasing descent on the back of your neck and along your shoulder blade, not wasting any time by waiting for any sort of awkward introduction. You can feel Brady’s eyes on you, observing the way you react to Andrei’s touch, as if trying to remember what makes you tick. He’s gauging his next action, content for now to watch the way goosebumps break out over your skin and take in the small noises emitting from your throat.

Andrei’s large hands pull your hips backwards, until your ass is pressed against a very firm appendage, and you gasp. For all you’ve been worried about how Andrei will react, he seems to thoroughly enjoy the idea of sharing you. Brady’s eyes crinkle, his lips curling up into a smile.

“You like that, sweetheart? Is he hard for you?”

As if to ensure you know that he is, Andrei pushes his hips forward in a short thrust. He accentuates the movement with a nip to your shoulder before Brady’s stepping forward to close the gap between you. Before you can even register the two large bodies you’re deliciously sandwiched between, his lips are on yours in a kiss that sucks the air out of your lungs.

Brady’s hands snake their way up your jaw to tangle in your hair, his tongue quick to find yours as he re-familiarizes himself with your mouth. The feeling of his lips almost instantly recalls memories at the things he used to do to you with them, your unexpected reunion adding flame to the fire. Your mind is hazy, drunk on palomas and desire as Andrei’s hands tug your hips back to afford him the angle to grind his pelvis against you. The kiss is hot, and you’ve completely forgotten about the coolness of your damp swimsuit, your skin shockingly warm as the temperature continues to rise in Brady’s room.

Without warning, four hands flip you around in sync so that you’re facing Andrei, who greets you with a dimpled smirk. Brady’s hands, formerly in your hair, drag heat up your sides to land at your chest, tugging the material of your bikini top to the side to expose your breasts. As Andrei moves forward to kiss you, Brady massages each breast, his lips smirking against your shoulder blade when he hears you let out a faint moan. 

“Fuck, I missed these tits,” he mumbles. “They’re incredible, aren’t they, Svech?”

Andrei nods, leaning his head down to take one of your nipples in his mouth. His tongue circles around it, teeth nipping when it hardens beneath his touch, and your hand finds its place on the back of his head to hold him in place. He and Brady work in tandem, silently massaging your body as you succumb to the pleasure, head lolling back against Brady’s shoulder.

His lips press gently against your temple, drinking in the sighs you let out. It’s his turn to press his erection against your ass as he murmurs, “Can’t wait to fuck that pretty little cunt of yours again, darling. You’ve no idea how much I missed you.”

For being a Disney prince, Brady has always had a filthy mouth, never failing to strike at your deepest, most depraved desires. He mouths at your jaw, fingers flexing into the skin of your hips. “Bet you’re absolutely fucking soaked, aren’t you?”

You nod helplessly, gasping out when Andrei nips at your breast, almost as if to say, attention on me.

“Come sit on my face, malyshka,” he says lowly, eyes flicking to Brady’s with a smirk. Once he’s adjusted, laying flat on the mattress, he holds out his hand to help guide you onto the bed. “Face Brady. Want him to watch.”

You do as you’re told, adjusting as you straddle his chest and scoot forward. Andrei’s expression is hungry as you get into place, his eyes quickly focusing on the apex of your thighs and tugging you closer to his face. The man’s mouth is downright sinful, and you can’t help the way wetness pools between your legs as he devours you with his eyes alone.

It’s only then that you glance at Brady, whose hands are working at the tie on his swimming trunks before shedding the wet fabric to the floor with a whoosh. Your eyes feast on his erection, even more beautiful than you remember it, admiring the way he grips it tightly in his hands.

“You still get wet sucking dick, baby?” he asks, and Andrei answers with an enthusiastic fuck yeah she does before he’s latching his mouth onto your core.

A moan falls from your mouth as his skilled tongue tastes your folds with vigor. Brady allows you a moment to take in the sensation, your eyes fluttering shut while Andrei groans against you. The touch of his hand on your jaw has your eyes opening again, meeting the warmth of his brown irises.

“What do you say we give him a treat, hm? Let him taste how delicious you are?” 

You’re nodding so quickly that he laughs, helping to maneuver you so that you’re bent forward. With the change in angle, Andrei’s tongue is able to probe at your clit, while Brady guides his length toward your mouth. Eagerly, you accept him, the weight of him forgotten but familiar on your tongue.

It isn’t long before Brady’s head is falling back in a sigh as you work your way down his considerable length. He’s smooth, save for the pulsing vein on the underside, and you let the tip of your tongue run along it as you bob your head up and down. His hands tangle in your hair to steady himself, matching the way Andrei’s hands have now begun to grip your ass tightly.

“Still have never met someone who sucks dick as good as you do.”

Preening at his praise, you allow him deeper, finally pressed against the back of your throat as he groans lowly. Andrei’s voice is muffled, a deep “Fuck” murmured against your core as he reaps the reward of your arousal from sucking Brady off, growing wetter with each sound that escapes from his pretty throat.

Before long, the sinful work of Andrei’s tongue slows the movement of your own mouth, pulling yourself off of Brady’s length to mouth at the base as you moan. Your movements are slowed, distracted by the pleasure that your Russian is sending through your body. Brady reacts seamlessly, his hand gently guiding your mouth toward his balls, enjoying the way your tongue laves against the sensitive skin in combination with the moans that fall from your mouth. 

“You gonna come for him, sweetheart? Gush all over that handsome face of his?”

You barely have time to nod before Andrei’s tongue flicks and sends you into overdrive, a loud cry leaving your throat. His mouth works you through your climax, tongue furiously matching your movements to prolong it as he laps up your nectar. A low chuckle bubbles up from Brady’s chest, amused as he watches your body come down from its high.

“You always look so pretty when you come.”

“You’re both pretty when you come,” you shoot back, a wave of mischief passing through you, as though your orgasm reinvigorated your confidence. Brady offers his hand to help you slide off of Andrei’s face—though you wouldn’t have complained about staying there for the rest of the night. 

Andrei gives your ass a slap before he wipes off his face on the back of his hand. You can see remnants of you glistening on his upper lip, and the heat between you is palpable as he caresses your face before jerking his head back toward the mattress. “Go on, malyshka. Why don’t you show him how good you look when you ride my cock?”

With a smile, you nod, returning to a similar position as before, except this time, you’re straddling his waist rather than his face. And this time, instead of his warm tongue bobbing between your legs, it’s his dick, hard and weeping as it begs for entrance to your cunt.

You smirk at him, wrecked and panting beneath you, as you drag your hips along his length, grinding your clit against him as you hold yourself up on his muscular chest. Brady’s taken a seat on the bench at the foot of the bed, watching intently as he leisurely strokes himself.

“Don’t— don’t tease, kisa,” Andrei begs, the desperation in his voice near enough to make you moan. 

And who are you to argue? It is his birthday, after all.

Sinking down onto him, your mouth opens in a silent scream as you feel him stretching you open. He’s big, bigger than you’ve ever had before, and you’re still getting used to the way he hits spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Andrei likes it, though, smug at the slow way you swallow his length and hoping that Brady’s taken notice at the raw, pleasured moan that you let out. The thought disappears quickly when he bottoms out inside you, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment to accommodate his size, feeling the way he pulses inside your heat. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, and Andrei silently encourages you by resting his large hands on your hips for support. He’s patient, waiting for you to move, and eventually you do.

Soon, you’re moving in a steady rhythm, the sound of his thighs clapping against your ass filling the room. Andrei’s hands help to move you on his length, but his eyes are distracted by the bounce of your breasts. Briefly, your eyes meet Brady’s, who’s equally torn at whether to look at your face or your tits. 

In a sudden movement, Andrei’s hands are gripping your hips and flipping you over, your back abruptly hitting the mattress near Brady’s thigh. You barely have time to register the new position before his large hands are pulling apart your legs and pushing himself inside you, instantly setting a hurried pace. 

It’s a display of dominance, of the ease in which he can manhandle you, like a reminder to both you and Brady who you belong to. He might be sharing with his teammate for the night, but at the end of the day you’re still his girl. He drives pleasure into you with each push of his hips, his hands gripping your sides so tightly you think there might be bruises tomorrow. The force of his thrusts are enough to render you speechless, and your eyes close as you absorb every sensation he brings to life.

The feeling of Andrei’s lips on your jaw and the rough sound of him panting in your ear have your eyes blinking open. You catch Brady’s expression, hungry, as he watches the way Andrei claims you for his own. A fire ignites in his eyes when he watches Andrei’s hand snake between your bodies, the pad of his finger quickly finding your clit.

Instead of maintaining his rhythm and driving you to your second crest, he slows his hips to a painstaking pace. He’s unable to prevent the smirk that blooms on his face at the way you instantly whine, pulsing around him desperately.

“You like having an audience, don’t you?” he teases, accent thick. “You like that he’s watching me fuck you, huh?”

“Andrei,” you rasp, your hands clutching onto his biceps that are far too large for you to hold. “Please.”

“Answer him, sweetheart,” comes Brady’s voice. It’s not a command, but you want to obey anyways, and you nod with a gasp as Andrei pauses inside you, balls deep while he waits for your reply. “You like being on display, hm?”

“Y-yes, I love when- when he watches,” you stutter. “Drei— please —”

“Well, I love him watching you come undone for me. First my tongue, now all over my cock. Isn’t that right, baby?”

A strangled moan is your reply, eyes rolling back as he presses directly against your g-spot, pausing for a moment to feel the way you throb around him. There’s something so incredibly hot about his admission, wanting Brady to see the effect he has on you.

“You can do it, kisa,” he murmurs, his hips resuming their delayed pace. “Come for me.”

All at once, you realize he’s not going to speed up, instead content to drive you slowly to insanity. His calm, confident demeanor is annoyingly sexy, as is the smug expression on his face. The pressure of his finger on your clit sends fireworks through your core, the steady punch of his dick against your g-spot enough to make your toes curl.

Your mouth falls open as he pushes you closer to the cliff, and around a thick accent, he demands, “Fucking come for me, dorogoy.”

You have no choice but to obey, your climax surging through you as your legs go stiff around Andrei’s hips. Distantly, you can hear Brady groan while Andrei hums in approval. The movement of his hips don’t cease, instead working you through your high until your legs fall limply to the mattress.

He sits back, eyes glued to your pussy as he pulls out, pleased with the way his dick is coated in your orgasm.  

“Fuck, look at the mess you made,” he smirks. You do, and through the haze of your orgasm, you itch to taste him. But then, he’s turning his focus  toward his friend, and your attention shifts. “She’s all yours, Skjeisy.”

“Best birthday gift you could ever get me, Svech,” Brady replies, eyes raking over your body hungrily. 

Your cheeks warm at his words, suddenly shy again as you glance up at him through your lashes. He stands before you, muscular and handsome, the streaks of gray in his hair shining silver in the low light of the room. The word daddy comes to mind, but you keep it to yourself, instead watching as he shifts onto the mattress.

“You still like taking it in the ass, baby?” he asks, and your heart flutters at his question. You haven’t done that with Andrei, not yet; you haven’t even broached the subject. But now he’s looking at you with heat in his eyes, slightly surprised but more than that, he’s intrigued. 

You bite your lip and nod, unable to prevent the grin that spreads on your face as Brady hums, surely reminiscing on your past encounters. Andrei’s eyes are hot on you, though you can’t look away from Brady’s as he tugs you closer to where he’s knelt on mattress. His mouth is quick to find yours again, his tongue not wasting any time, as if to let you know how eager he is.

When he plunges two fingers into you, they slip in with ease from your arousal and your orgasm. He pulses them, exploring the tightness of your cunt, his dick throbbing against his leg as he does. Brady whistles when he pulls out two glistening fingers, observing at the way they shine in the dim light of the bedroom. 

“Be a good girl and taste yourself for me,” he says, voice sweet like honey as he pushes the fingers past your lips. It’s tangy and salty on your tongue, but you suck them obediently, relishing the flavor.

Andrei groans at the way your lips wrap around the digits, undoubtedly reminiscing on the time it’s been his fingers or his dick subjected to the pleasures of your mouth. 

Brady murmurs to Andrei, something about the bedside table, and he disappears and reappears in an instant with a bottle of lube in his hand. With both hands, Brady maneuvers your body and positions you so you’re on your knees, your face pressed against the soft sheet on the bed. You feel his fingers run over your pussy, still sensitive from Andrei’s treatment, clicking his tongue at the way it looks glistening with your cum. He catches some of the liquid oozing out on his finger and drags it up toward your puckered hole, circling lightly before he adds a healthy drizzle of lube. Once you’re thoroughly primed, he pushes the tip of his index into you.

A loud cry leaves your lips, the sensation vaguely familiar but strange. Brady takes his time, working you open until he gradually adds a second finger. 

“You think you can take both of us, sweetheart?” he whispers, his voice silky smooth. Your eyes widen, connecting with Andrei’s, who offers a smug wink. Damn them and their teammate telepathy, making you feel like the third wheel even though you’re the one they’re fucking.

When you nod, Andrei shakes his head and tilts your chin up to meet his eyes again. “Gotta hear you say it, kisa.”

“Yes, I want to,” you say, though you can’t hide the shake in your voice. Whether it’s from nerves or the way that Brady’s fingers are probing your ass, you aren’t entirely sure.

Andrei’s voice is soft, a stark contrast to the scene in Brady’s bedroom. “If you want to stop, at any time, just say the word, and we’re done, okay?” 

His words are comforting, and suddenly you feel yourself throb with desire at the thought of both of them filling you up. You’re nodding again, your voice a bit more desperate this time as Brady adds his tongue to the movement of his fingers, the heat from his mouth enough to make you cry out. 

“Fuck, you taste even better than I remember,” he groans against you, lapping up the moisture that gathers around his fingers. Andrei hums in agreement, taking in the way your eyes roll back in your head at his teammate’s sinful work. 

Once you’ve been thoroughly manhandled and maneuvered on top of Andrei and beneath Brady, sandwiched between the heat of their bodies, you let out another whimper when Andrei slides himself into your pussy. The feeling is familiar, unlike the sensation of Brady easing himself past the tight ring of your ass. He’s slow, steady, reminding you to breathe while Andrei rubs gentle circles on your waist with his thumb, pressing open-mouthed kisses at the base of your throat.

When you cry out, Brady freezes, waiting patiently for you to grant permission to keep going. As the unusual feeling subsides, you do, turning your head to find his cheek that you whisper a soft please against. 

Eventually, Brady’s hips reach the globes of your ass, and both of them are fully sheathed in you. The breath in your lungs has vanished, replaced by everything them. Never in your life have you felt more whole, more complete; stuffed – literally – to the brim in a deliciously taboo way, completely and entirely theirs. With your face buried in the crook of Andrei’s neck, you beg them to move.

Brady’s hands grip your sides tightly as he alters his movements with Andrei’s. Push, pull, push, pull. Deep, hot puffs of breath hit you from both sides, encasing you between them. The feeling is otherworldly, delicious, and now that you’ve grown accustomed to feeling so full, you’re insatiable, crying out and letting the pleasure rake through you. 

“Who knew I’d get to fuck this perfect ass again,” Brady muses, breaking the symphony of heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin. “Happy fucking birthday to me.”

Filthy words and promises spew from Brady’s mouth, praising you and reminding you of the many times he’s brought you to a crest; meanwhile, Andrei whispers broken Russian as his mouth marks up your collarbone. It makes you whimper, hearing the way you wreck him, feeling the way he throbs inside of you with his hands gripping your sides.

“I’m –” you pant, “I’m c-close.”

“Yeah? You gonna come all over these birthday cocks?” Brady teases, leaning back to watch the way he splits you open, murmuring in approval at the sight. “What a good little slut, taking both of us on our birthday.”

It’s not until Andrei’s face scrunches up as he hits his own climax that you are sent spiraling into yours, the feeling of his warmth spilling into your core the catalyst for your own release. A loud cry escapes your mouth, calling a jumble of cuss words, eyes squeezing shut as you let the waves roll through you.

“Holy fuck,” Brady groans, “I didn’t think your asshole could get any tighter. Fuck.”

His voice is losing its edge, a little more breathy as he pounds into you, seeking his high. A few moments later he pauses with a loud grunt as he, too, climaxes. After a pause to catch his breath, throbbing wantonly inside you, he pulls out with another groan, followed quickly by a whistle.

“Svech,” he says, “Come here and look at this.”

Another maneuver has Andrei slipping out from beneath you, meeting his teammate’s side to gaze at your backside, dripping two sets of cum and surely looking thoroughly wrecked. In their absence, you feel so empty, clenching desperately around nothing.

Andrei hums before you feel his hand on your ass, pulling apart your cheeks to get a better look. He murmurs something in Russian, pleased. 

You barely have a moment to register warm breath and the scratch of his five o’clock shadow before his tongue is licking a thick stripe from your clit all the way up to your ass, lapping up the liquid that’s drooling out of your holes. The sensation is euphoric, if not overstimulating, but he knows exactly what he’s doing to drive you just a little bit more insane.

Brady chuckles behind you at the sound of your whimpers, muffled only by the pleasured sighs coming from Andrei against your center, like he can’t get enough of the taste of you filled with birthday cum. He laps you up like a starving man, and you’re about to push him away when he’s parting from you of his own accord.

With Brady’s help, he flips you over so you’re facing them. Brady’s expression is smug, gazing down at you hotly—as if he didn’t just ruin you, and wants to ruin you again. Andrei, though, is looking at you softly, a sharp contrast to the way his face glistens with your juices. He licks his lips, and if you were standing, your knees would’ve gone weak at the sight. 

With a nudge at Andrei’s arm, he grins. “Happy birthday, dude.”

SIMILAR CONTENT:

Sundress Season

Glittery

A Night in Paris

Midnight Rain (blurb)

#andrei svechnikov fic #brady skjei fic #andrei svechnikov smut #brady skjei smut #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #andrei svechnikov x reader #brady skjei x reader #andrei svechnikov blurb #brady skjei blurb #andrei svechnikov x y/n #brady skjei x y/n #andrei svechnikov imagine #brady skjei imagine #hockey smut #nhl smut

[inkluvs]

IVES IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!!!

could I possibly get smth abt steve celebrating your birthday w you please rahhh maybe he does smth cute for it, I’ll leave that up to you teehee

have a lovely day bae <3

many moons ago

a/n: ok i wrote this really quickly so i'm not exactly sure how i feel about this? queueing it before i can overthink but happy (belated when this posts) birthday bae i love uuu <3 tw: food ; steve is a morning person ; one line that mentions sleep deprivation ? (0.3k)

steve harrington x fem! reader

 masterlist // taglist

Sunlight pours in from the sliver between the blinds and the windowsill, just enough to have you blinking rapidly as you try to turn around in search of your boyfriend. He isn’t there. You run through the reasons in your mind: He might have work, picked up a weekend shift, and forgotten to tell you. He might’ve gotten started on breakfast, which would explain the smell that’s starting to waft into the room. Or maybe there’s an occasion you’d forgotten. 

It’s your birthday, is what you’re forgetting. Ridiculously late nights that pour into early mornings dismembered your sense of time altogether. For all you know, it could very well still be new years. 

You drift in and out of sleep for the next hour and a half, only stirring awake when the door hinges creak as it swings open. Steve’s soft like this, you think, shirt discarded somewhere on the floor, apron tied ‘round his waist and neck as he walks in with two plates. 

You smile into your pillow as he sets down the food on your nightstand, the sound of fabric rubbing against fabric reaching your ears as he unties the apron. Your bedsheets rustle as you turn to face him, your arms reaching out to pull him close.

“Mornin’ pretty,” He murmurs, words pressed tight against your neck.

“Morning,” you hum. “What’s the occasion?”

Steve’s never been that great of a storyteller, constantly getting distracted by little details and branching off when you give him input, but that didn’t always stop him.

“Many many moons ago,” he starts smoothing his thumb over the slope of your cheek, “on this exact morning,” he pauses, “you were born in the morning right?” You nod and his voice drops to a dramatic whisper, “You were born.” He dots a kiss against your hairline and your cheeks split in a grin.

“That’s what it was.” You realize, eyeing your breakfast with fervor.

He hums, “Happy birthday honey.”

#ivy’s inbox 💌 #aster 🪓 #ivy is writing ! #steve harrington (ivy’s version) #stluvs #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington reader insert #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic

[cyborg-franky]

Hi Franky and happy belated birthday! I was wondering if I could ask a date? If yes, then I would love a surprise date with Law, please. Thank you!

Thaaaank yoou. Man I am behind on these wknleng

[DATES ARE CLOSED]

Law isn’t a very hey let’s go out and do things sort of person so when he sent you a message to meet up you were a little confused. Normally your dates were planned well in advance and to the letter but this one was so out of the blue. 

You walked down the street, a nice afternoon, warm and bright but not too stuffy. You look at your phone, following the little map to the street Law told you to meet him at. He’s stood there looking at his phone before he glances up and see’s you.

He puts his phone away and walks towards you, offering his hand which you took. It’s a big step, he’s not very into PDA but he seems excited which is always a nice thing, his smile when he does smile is so happy and bright. 

Law is wearing jeans, he seems to live in them. A collared shirt that's open to show off his tattoo. You managed to pull your gaze away from the pattern and meet his, smiling. “So what were you so excited about?” 

“There’s a bookfair, down here.” He says and juts his chin in a direction, and you look down the street. Lining either side was stalls, most had stacks of books laid out, some other stalls dotted between them but very much mostly cool antiques and books.

You smile when you feel him pull your hand, wanting to see all the things on display. You both spend the afternoon looking through all the old books, the tables covered in nicknacks. You both end up with a large bag of books, Law seemed elated as he stuffs another book into the bag, a dusty book from the1800s about medical procedures, he liked to compare what the world knew now to what they didn’t. 

Enjoyed the old fashion diagrams. He had a collection. It was nice, he chatted animatedly each time he picked up a book, and listened to you when you showed an interest in certain ones. It was a nice afternoon. 

“Do you want to grab a coffee?” He asked, still holding your hand and looking at you, you nod “Sounds good!”

#trafalgar law #law op #law x you #law x reader #law x yourname #law x yn #one piece reader insert #sfw #gender nuetral reader #franky date event #date event #dates #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalar law x yn

[cheesus-doodles]

A Friend In Me: Chapter 2

Yandere Platonic Toman

‎‎‎

<< Chapter 1

Masterlist

‎A/N: Holy hell, it's been a while! Really glad to be back from my break, it's honestly weird to not be writing every free minute I have. Crunch time just to finally get this out on time for my boy's birthday :3 As usual I will edit the grammatical errors later cause its super late now. Happy (very belated) Birthday Mikey!!

‎‎

It was an unusual spring in your step and an exceptionally cheery hum on your lips that accompanied you when you returned to school the following week, your spirits riding high off a fun-filled weekend surrounded by your precious friends. Albeit it was a break that the boys had forced a very reluctant you to take against your will and the mountain of homework piled high up on your desk. Yet all it took was a lavish sprinkle of whining and tugging and pleading, combined with a generous serving of extra strength puppy eyes, and you caved like the crispy top of one of your homemade pot pies. 

And that was hands down the best decision your friends had ever made for you all month, you had to admit. 

As someone whose life had been all but consumed in an endless cycle of school, work, home and utter loneliness up till meeting Baji and Mikey on that fateful afternoon, it blew your mind that there was so much to see, so much to do in this city you’ve lived your whole life in. Maybe it was just that the city came alive when you were with your friends, the alluring lights dotting skyscrapers winking at you from the distant skyline. Or maybe it was the laughs and smiles that helped saturate the sounds and sights that filled your wide eyes and ears. Be it fishing by the riverbank in the outskirts of the city with Draken and Pah-chin, which you had barbecued there and then and eaten the fish, trying out a new cafe in outskirts with Mitsuya and Mikey, a half-an-hour bus ride away from your home, or even just picnicking in a public park under the shade of a century old tree with Kazutora and Baji, you never found a reason for your smile to drop.

Needless to say, the high spirits carried over from weekends translated into a bounce in your step as you skipped the last few steps to the gates of your school, waving goodbye to Mikey who had dropped you off. You could do this. You were certain you could. All this time spent around friends who truly cared for you, who so kindly, so patiently helped you through your social anxiety - if you couldn’t make a single one on your own, maybe you didn’t deserve any. But you wouldn’t let them down, not this time.

Confidence at an all-time high and in the midst of giving yourself a pep talk, the ever so slight crinkle of the corners of Mikey’s black eyes and the small smirk that quickly faded from his face slipped by you unnoticed.

“Morning, Yamamoto-kun, Kaito-kun!” You chirped out, completely undeterred from the lack of responses you were receiving from the various classmates shuffling by: they had been enthusiastic enough last Friday after all. It was probably just the Monday blues, and you conveniently brushed off the nervous glances sent your way. The morning sun shining directly into your classroom - the same one that shone on you last week as you finally broke ground with new people on your own accord - brought with it a sense of hopefulness with the refracted fragile lines of rainbows through large clear glass windows. Spending a few minutes to watch as the rays dance across the still classroom filled with students, you resigned yourself to reminiscing about your amazing weekend while waiting for the gloom to drain from the atmosphere.

Alas, it seemed your understanding of the situation was far from reality, and the realization only finally dawned when homeroom, and then first class dragged on and the expected friendliness never materialized. 

“Tanaka-kun! How was…your…week…end?” Your voice trailed off as said boy simply stalked pass without a glance in your way, your raised hand slowly retracting back under the table as you watched his back disappear round a corner, not once acknowledging your presence. And he wasn’t the first with those cold shoulders and even colder glares that you couldn’t even begin to understand, already one of countless you had been on the receiving end of in the first few hours of classes. Biting back the tears you felt starting to well up in your eyes, at least the risen sun melted away a little of the icy reception you received. Why? What did you do? Maybe it was the way you were pronouncing their names? Was it your expression?

No matter. “I’ll try harder.” You mumbled to yourself under your breath for the umpteenth time even as your fingers picked at the corner of bleeding fingernails, the other hand tugging and grasping at the hem of your school shirt. You could always try harder.

But as time dragged on and your class started and ended one by one, it became clear to you that social skills just simply weren’t a strong suit of yours. And your mind - or more so your heart, you suspected - started to fail in its ability to push back those nagging voices that haunted you, allowing them to roar straight back to the front of your thoughts. What you felt now - it was like that dream you had again and again of falling off the tallest skyscraper headfirst. Your dream never had you crash into the warm pavement below, but you could confidently say you learn that feeling first hand; your hopes of making even more friends through your own ability all but smashed into million pieces, and yourself dunked straight back into the harsh cold waters of reality.

Yet all you could do was unwillingly trudge on, clinging to the last bit of hope as you slumped into your seat. In a vain attempt to turn your bittering thoughts off your current treatment by who you once thought were acquaintances - you were hesitant to call them friends so quickly, and you guessed that was the right call after all - you turned your attention to the vacant seats littering the classroom. And there were quite a few of them to your surprise as you mentally tallied the total count, and there didn’t seem to be any one pattern to reason for so many of your classmates to not be here. Maybe the flu? But it wasn’t flu season. Or maybe it was just that they had too much fun over the weekend and didn’t feel like coming back, cause that would have been your reason as well.

The ring of the school bell broke you from your thoughts: banded classes were starting as evident with the scrapping of chairs against wooden flooring and scuffling of bags against tables, and you had to move. Leaping to your feet as you scrambled to gather your scattered belongings, you mustered what remained of your courage at the familiar sight of brown pigtails, turning with what you hoped was a bright smile. “Ah Aki-kun, wait for m-”

“Stop! Stay away!” 

You froze. “I-”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know.” The normally mild-natured bespectacled girl all but hissed at you as shoved past you, another icy voice you never expected from another mouth you were certain you never crossed. “You did this to them! Just - stay away from me!”

All you ever did was to call out to her to wait so that you could pack. And she and everyone else left you standing there alone, your belongings half strewn across the table top with the other half messily stuffed into your bag. The cloudy skies and cool breeze that kissed your skin and teased your hair, coupled with the copious amounts of food and laughter you enjoyed with your friends over the weekend, now seemed so distant, a stark contrast to the bleak present you were in. You stiffly stuffed the rest of the items into your bag.

No one wanted to sit, talk or even look in your direction. For reasons beyond you, no matter where or who you desperately reached out to, the reaction you received was exactly the same. Different people, different classes. Nothing.

“I’m sorry for whatever I did.” You muttered, but it was really more for yourself than anyone around, your fingernails only digging further into already bruising flesh. “I’m sorry.” Being plunged once more back into miserable isolation was a difficult feeling to bear quietly; just when you thought, for once in your life, that you've made it. Yet all you could do was curl into yourself and mumble apologies under your breath to whoever out there could hear you, whoever would hear you. For what unknown crimes you weren't sure, but if everyone else agreed it was all your fault for something, who were you to disagree? You must have done it. 

Time seemed to drag on forever, every minute an excruciating hour spent trying to ignore those inhospitable glares digging into your back wherever you went. At least the one thing you could be sure of, lost in this confusing world alone with your self-esteem falling off a cliff face, was that the clock still ticked uncaringly on, dragging you forward with every rotation of the second hand - it brought with it hope that this nightmare would come to an end. 

Staring out the window, your teacher’s voice faded away into the background as you watched cars speed by to destination unknowns, the sunlight twinkling off reflective paint a mocking reminder of how cold you felt despite the afternoon heat. You always thought you had hit rock bottom before, but it seemed that that had been nothing but a false bottom just waiting to spring open. What were you even thinking? Trying to make friends as if you could? You failed, those whispering voices laughed at you repeatedly, their taunts echoing in your head and in your ears. You failed. 

You tried to pull yourself together as best you could - perhaps it was all just a misunderstanding. Maybe your classmates had mistook someone else for you. But then why was this feeling of dread settling comfortably into your gut as if it had always been there? Or this incessant thought that all your friendships were built on nothing but pity? You failed not just yourself. You failed them.

It was a miracle you made it to lunch without so much a leaky nose, having barely held yourself together through the various classes and murderous looks that you probably deserved with nothing more than tightly pursed lips and a silent vow to yourself to not further embarrass everyone you knew. But as the clock ticked down little by little to lunch and you spotted the all too familiar mob of lilac hair settling just outside the wall of your classroom, you came to the quick realization that there was no way you could face Mitsuya without instantly bursting into tears - the same hastily, desperately, erected walls that you had holding back the quickly surging tide of emotions would crumble. The knot of dread and shame that settled in the base of your gut only grew and grew.

And then the bell went off. 

“Hey!” Mitsuya stepped forward to greet you as you appeared through the doorway of your classroom, arms spread for his routine hug you never failed to return. The eagerness at spending his precious lunch time with you was clearly written on his face, yet you couldn’t even face him. “Let’s head to -” 

Wordlessly, you shoved past him, reddening eyes and cheeks hidden in your sleeves, and you disappeared into the growing crowd.

You didn’t return to school. It was the first time you had ever skipped school too; ironic that it was this meaningless nonsense that finally broke your back and not the group’s persistent invitations of fun and adventure. Your feet trailed a path you knew so well, and you found yourself back at the small lazy river snaking its way downstream noiselessly - the smell of grass and flowers and water bringing back those memories of many happier days spent here with your friends, imagined or otherwise. 

How could you face the others like this as an absolute failure? And those nagging voices pipped up once more - had those six boys even really been your friends? The simple question stumped you; what should have been a clear and resounding ‘yes’ instead turned into a strong sense of being stranded and lost in your own mind at the same time. 

You didn't even know what you did to your classmates. Has your classmates' friendliness been nothing more than pure imagination? Then were Mikey's and Baji's and the others’ fake too? Could you have just been seeing their eager eyes and bright smiles in your head? What if they left you? Certain that you wouldn't like the answer to that question, you pushed it to the back of your mind like the rest of your pathetic existence as you huddled further into your jacket, desperate for some comfort, any comfort. Kicking a stone down the path, the river continued to flow undisturbed even as you failed to stop the tears that welled up and poured down your cheeks in hot streams, or the hiccups and whimpers that leaked from between bitten lips.

Even still, no matter how much you doubted your own judgment, the sunlight that tanned your skin yet failed to warm you didn’t seem to brighten your world as much as when you had been with them.

Stumbling back home alone wasn’t anything you weren’t familiar with, having done it every day before you met Baji and Mikey. Your feet were sore from hours of walking down alongside the river, yet they still faithfully carried you home, trudging the dead streets in the light of the evening sun. But so caught up in your self pity were you that you almost failed to notice all 6 of the boys already waiting for you, scattered in smaller groups along the street outside your house. You instantly froze upon catching a glimpse of that unmistakable gray checkered jacket from the corner of your dry, bloodshot eyes, but it was too late, Mikey having already spotted you, expectant gaze turned from the overcast sky to meet yours. The rest looked up when you meekly approached, eyes lowered and not daring to look at what you assumed was fury - at you? - blazing in those gazes. 

For a moment, all was silent. Even the wind who had been faithfully drying your tears stilled in that moment, and you thought you fucked up this friendship too. It was all over for you.

But when a cold drink was thrust into your hands by a red-faced and mumbling Baji, and Draken rested a hand atop your head and gently asked you what happened, you couldn't hold back the tears any longer, your already painful eyes squeezing as a fresh wave ran down your cheeks. You couldn’t care less about what you looked like any more.

“I don’t understand,” you mumbled under your breath, delicate fingers white from clutching desperately to the worn strap of your school bag. “Is it me?” 

Was it something you did? Was it something you said? Maybe it was just you? You didn’t dare look up again at the boys, a fresh wave of hot painful tears spilling from eyes already swollen from the earlier pity party you threw yourself. And the silence you received in response only seemed to align with what you always believed deep down. Pathetic. You must look absolutely pathetic, a sniveling mess in your crumpled uniform. This must be what your classmates had seen of you, yet there was not much you could do in the moment to change - to improve - that in front of the six boys you naively called friends. “I’ll - go. If it’s me.”

If they wanted you gone, the least you could do was pick up what was left of your broken heart and make sure you do your best to never let them have to look at you again. Maybe move across Japan, maybe even overseas. No one would need or want such a pitiful friend to throw a wet blanket on their day, and you understood that well. You wouldn’t hate them in the slightest for their decision.

A blink, and you found yourself engulfed in a warm comforting hug, familiar arms wrapped around you as best as they could under and around your bag straps. “Don’t be stupid.” Mitsuya sighed out, one hand running soothingly through your hair and a rare indulgent smile pulling at his lips when you finally broke down and started bawling into his shoulder, yet the boy barely seemed concerned with the growing wet patch on his shirt as you buried your shame in the depths of the soft cotton.

‎

What you didn’t know was just shy out of range of your still fragile emotions and your cone of view, it was a breath of relief your six friends hadn’t even realized they’ve been holding that was let slipped and floated off on the light breeze, the tension that had been draped heavy over them finally lifting. 

When they had first heard of you simply shoving past Mitsuya at lunch to run off by yourself through said boy’s worried messages and calls to Mikey, they weren’t quite sure what to think. Maybe it had just been a bad day? Completely possible, given that they did have a hand in contributing to that. But it was only when you failed to return to your classes after lunch (a first ever for you, you cared far too much about your studies to ever skip) was when the panic finally started to sink in, settling into the base of their gut like an uncomfortable glop. Instantly leaping to his feet, Mikey was barking out orders and everyone was racing to their assigned search area, fanning out to look for any sign of you.

Anger, irritation, anything that wasn’t you being back in their arms had all seemed to melt away from their thoughts as they combed the streets. Have you figured out what they did? Were you trying to run from them, break off your friendship? What if you left? Unthinkable consequences the boys were hesitant to even consider should thoughts have power, and chose to collectively sweep under the rug when such possible outcomes were brought up during their secret meetings in the shadows of Musashi Temple. How to plead their case to you was not something any of them was eager to find out.

But for all the anxiety and sweat and tears you put them through, was this all you had been worried about? That they, of all people, would be disappointed you couldn’t make friends by yourself?

“You’ll- you’ll let me know i-if I m-m-mess up?” You managed to whimper out between your adorable hiccups, flushed cheeks only serving to highlight bloodshot eyes.

You hadn’t even stopped to consider the one-eighty in your classmates, about your sudden shunning in school and whether they had a role in that. Such a heretic thought must have never even crossed your mind, and it was then that it dawned on them they could truly do no wrong in your eyes: not your beloved friends who cared deeply for you. And that was what they liked so much about you - that you never doubted them, only yourself.

No response was needed for such a silly question - you could never ‘mess up’ in any way that would matter to them when it came to not ‘making friends’ - and you were quickly and roughly yanked off Mitsuya by a grinning Pah, momentarily stunning you out of your crying as you were sent flying for a brief second. “Kazutora, catch!” Landing smack in said boy’s chest, the boy with the black and gold hair only had enough time to toss your bag onto a nearby bench and sneak in a quick yet tight hug before you were once again pulled away, a flash of long black momentarily blocking your sight as Baji earned himself a loud cry of indignation. Kazutora once more attempted to launch himself at you, only to miss and be sent flying at Mikey instead. 

Your anxiety and tears were no match against the sheer force of your friends’ cheer as each boy took turns yanking and pulling you into their own big hugs, the tried and true exaggerated pats on your back and hard ruffles of your hair not failing to pull your lips upwards. “Bastards,” The lilac-haired boy could only shake his head at having you pulled from his arms, but the smile on his lips was clear, and he reached out to grab you mid-flight for a quick cuddle before allowing you to be stolen away again by a cheeky Draken. Hiccups morphing into giggles and into all-out laughter as you were pulled here and there, you couldn’t help the happiness bubbling up into your chest and bursting free, your face buried into various shoulders and chests (and a single armpit, courtesy of Mikey). 

“What did your shitty classmates do this time?” Baji sneered, as he dodged under Kazutora’s arm, pulling you out of reach from those grabby fingers.

“It’s not them, I-” 

Mikey cut you off. “Nah, it’s definitely them.”

As the others echoed the same view,  under the barrage of assurances that you couldn’t possibly fuck up, not with them, the fear that had been weighing on your chest, that made it hard to breathe, finally lifted. Your arms grabbed from the sides by Kazutora and Mikey, you had no choice but to laugh along as you were all but mobbed by your friends, frogmarched towards their bikes for yet another adventure with them, something to clear your mind and heart they claimed, though you did pull away just before they could haul you onto the back of a bike.

“Sorry about your shirt, Mitsuya,” You scratched at the back of your hair, your gaze darting between the wet stain on his shirt before and the dusty ground. “I’ll wash it for you, I promise.”

He only waved off your apology, lightly dusting your hair with his knuckles before herding you towards where the rest were waiting. “You smiling again is good enough for me.” 

With the cheer and laughter that surrounded you almost constantly throughout what remained of the day, the niggling worries and anxiety at the back of your mind quickly melted away under the setting evening sun, the dying rays of light bringing with them your sorrows and fears. Even if the scars stayed forever embedded deep in your heart, there was nothing to worry about, you were sure about that, your mind once more building up the strength to push down the taunting voices that said otherwise. You didn’t need more friends. All the friends you needed were right here, with you. They did care.

“I can do this. I can do this.” You repeated under your breath like a mantra, attempting to steel your nerves as best you could. Going back to the mutterings and hostile looks behind your back the next day was tough, not after the previous evening’s distractions. Even if you were prepared, knowing what was coming, the first icy glare and your confidence was once more ready to crumble - this was a lot harder than it looked. But this time, you persevered, trying to allow the seemingly infinite anger directed at you to wash away with every step, though that didn’t always work. “I can do this.”

It would certainly be a while before you could walk down the corridor with your head held high, or until your self-esteem recovered enough to stop muttering apologies to whoever seemed even the slightest bit annoyed at your existence, but you were sure you could get there in time. You did have lunch and after school to look forward to now. With your real friends.

‎

Relief. Pure, unadulterated relief.

That was all the boys could feel when you enthusiastically waved them off at school, your figure disappearing past the bend of a wall as the shrill scream of the school bell pierced their ears. You didn’t actually find out what they did behind your back - they had all but thought you gone, having left in disgust. And your disappearance, despite you returning to the safety of the group, all but sealed the fact that what happened over the weekend was nothing you needed to know. And you probably didn’t want to either, your fragile self unable to handle all the nasty, grisly details that they were keeping you safe from, sheltered and protected from the harsh realities of the sinister world out there. 

The threats dished out almost casually by Mikey and the beatings dealt out by Baji, or the blood on Kazutora’s hands and the crunch of bones under Draken’s. It was all for you.

Despite their intended outcome being to hit where it hurt the most, in this case your feelings and self-esteem - they did know your personal flaws very well - the sight of your face red with tears, combined with the gut-wrenching sadness pouring through glossy doe eyes, felt much like a stab to their chest. The pain and fear smeared across your expression was almost too much even for these delinquents to bear.

“First time, last time,” Baji said grimly, turning to trudge the few steps back to his motorcycle as the courtyard of your school emptied of the last loitering students, though the sentiment wasn’t exactly echoed by the others. Even if the momentary pain that they put you through was justified in the end, the means was too painful to repeat. They could only hope that this truly was a one off, both for you and for them - deep down they knew they would do it all over again. Again and again, however many times it takes to sink it into your head. But right now, at this moment, this feeling surging through their veins, it was liberating. Your real friends no longer need to worry about any of your school garbage stealing you away from them, no more. 

You were truly theirs, and only theirs.

‎

Days and weeks passed in a flash, and you don’t think you’d ever been happier. The hours melted away like ice cream in the middle of summer, your time torn between school, friends and much to the dismay of the boys, work. Despite their insisting that you should just play with them, that you really didn’t have to work, you still had been taking as many errands as your limited time allowed. And any money you earned went almost entirely towards those bentos crafted specially for each member of the group that took a whole day to make, filled to the brim with their favorites, which you would have never been able to afford without the extra allowance. The appreciative smiles and the empty boxes you received in return made your effort, time and darkening eyebags all worthwhile. 

Arguments and tensions within the group never lasted long with you present, easily diffusing their hot tempers and that itch to fight with just a crack of a smile or a small laugh that slipped through. Life was easier and a hell lot more fun with you around, and everyone in the group knew that. 

Yet for all their effort day after day, no matter how hard your dear friends labored thanklessly trying to keep you away - to protect you - from anyone and anything that might steal you away from them, you still somehow manage to slip under their defenses time and time again. Be it a kind word to some random (scumbag, they just know it) guy, or an offer of help to a random passing stranger who looked the slightest bit lost, you could never seem to keep your attention where it belonged, and their efforts to intervene and keep you safe were far from watertight. After all, you were all just kids busy living your own lives, and keeping you within sight of at least one of them at all times wasn’t something that they were capable of at the moment. 

Worse still, your tendency to wander off from them wasn’t an issue that your friends could settle with a one-off beating dished out behind your back. You were no social magnet, a known fact to all, so why couldn’t you stay in your lane? Why must you insist on exposing yourself to unnecessary danger? 

‎

It was one of those sweltering afternoons - the kind where the sun beating down mercilessly atop heads was enough to redden skin and foul the best of moods - on which it finally sunk in on Draken just how reckless, how carefree you could be. What was supposed to be just a normal patrol round your little neighborhood quickly curdled like fresh milk on stumbling upon you surrounded by a group of boys, his already wretched mood souring further. Rival gangsters, Draken’s mind filled in in the next heartbeat, the eye-catching logo decorating their large backs glowing lightly in the shadows only serving to taunt him. And then you, looking even more delicate against threateningly larger figures, a bright smile on your face as you gave directions to them, which only fan the flames of his growing temper, his hands unknowingly clenching into tight fists at his side.

Of all the days for none of your friends to be free to accompany you on your mundane route, of all the times to have this very rare downtime with no one scheduled to you, it just had to be today and right now. You were supposed to be on an errand for your neighbor, Draken knew that, a simple delivery. He checked your schedule yesterday, and he checked it again earlier today. So why weren’t you focusing on your task? Why were you going out of your way to help some nobodies again, exactly what they told you not to do?

The vein that had already throbbing away in his forehead was now on the verge of bursting when you saw fit to see them off with a friendly wave, and their reply to all of your your generous help was to fucking blush and blurt out hurried thank yous. Things that would have earned them a trip and long stay in the nearest hospital, but not anything that would be suitable to dish out in front of your innocent eyes. Draken was way past pissed, not just at them, but at you. Didn’t you know how hard your friends were working to keep you safe? Were you just spitting in their faces?

“Hey.” Hand shooting out to grab at your arm, fingers instinctively tightening around flesh like they always did in a fight, though the initial harsh grip he had all but crushing you quickly softened when you seemed to jump at the sudden onset of pain, panic clear on your face as you whirled around. 

“I’m sor- oh! Ken-chin!” 

The fear was quickly replaced with a smile as bright as the afternoon sun above, as if you hadn’t just ruined his entire afternoon, your cheeks flushed from the heat beating down on you. And the sight of your cheer was somehow enough to calm him down from his rage. Draken could never stay mad at you for long - not you of all people, with those doe eyes shining up at him. Instead opting to toss a mask at you (one of those things that he always carried around for this sort of emergency), you obediently slipped it on without question, by now probably used to your friends’ weird tendencies and habits when it came to being out and about you.

“You ready? Come on,” was all the golden-haired boy with the dragon tattooed told you. And you unquestioningly slipped your hand into his offered one, allowing your tall friend to lead you down familiar roads, Draken making sure to escort you straight to your errand’s endpoint (a friendly old man who ran a small corner store the boys frequented) and then back home, only pausing to send off a quick text to Mikey about his disrupted patrol. His hands still itched for a pummel, but not that you knew of course, simply glad for the company, and you waved him off from the porch of your house with a pack of his favorite snack.

‎

It was only that fateful afternoon, for the very first time, that something stirred deep in the guts of your six self-proclaimed closest (and only) friends, a feeling that the boys soon discovered all of them shared. Before, with your classmates and your other little misadventures, it had been an easy fix to hoard your attention and your time for themselves. But they knew this far-from-little issue you had had always ran deeper than these surface-level interactions that they watch play out again and again - you were too naive, too fragile, too nice to live without them. Unable to stop yourself from helping any random scum you came across, unable to stop trying to find “new friends” you didn’t need and who were likely to take advantage of you and your kindness. They were your friends first after all, and they were the only friends you needed. They alone deserve all of your time and your care and your love - a finite supply that wasn’t to be shared with the undeserving. You needed their protection more than ever.

“A gang?” The six boys watched carefully as your expression fell, the mix of worry and confusion they had been expecting showing in those doe eyes of yours as if on cue. “Is that…um… dangerous?”

The night had started off as what seemed like just another regular weekend night, one of many they spent hanging out in the shade of Musashi Temple, sheltering from the light drizzle pattering the stone tiles just a few steps away from where you seven sat, munching on snacks and discussing the day’s events like you did every other week. But the mood had instantly shifted when Mikey had tried to slide the topic by you.

“Well,” Pah scratched at his ear. “Yes, but so are other gangs.”

“Other gangs?”

Baji slapped him on the back of his head, having spotted the wince Pah missed. “What Pah meant,” the black-haired boy shot the other a dirty look as he continued, though Pah simply ignored him. “Is that there’s a big gang that’s been harassing us. Black Dragons, Kazutora lives on their territory.”

Your gaze shot to Baji, the anxiety now written all across your face as you made to stand. “Harassing? Are you boys safe? Should we go to the police?”

It was Baji’s turn to get slapped on the back of his head, this time by Draken, who only tsked when the other choked on the onigiri he had just bitten into.

“No, no, we’re fine,” Mitsuya placated, tugging you back down. “But it’ll be safer for us to have a gang to fight back rather than trying to take them on individually.”

That was technically the truth, that the Black Dragons contributed to their decision - well, it was a partial truth, but there was no lie. They hated to ever have to lie to innocent, little you. 

Yet at the same time, it wasn’t exactly the whole truth. Sure the announcement seemed out of the blue, impulsive even, with the way the idea was slid almost casually into their conversation. Yet the decision had already been made a few nights before on the true impromptu suggestion from Baji, and an equally unplanned unanimous agreement from the rest, away from the presence of your eyes and ears. But you didn’t need to know the whole truth anyways, just enough to convince you to willingly accept the protection of their new gang. And the night you agreed was what made the gang as official to them as it was to you.

“So does that mean I can jo-”

“No.” The newly crowned gang leader cut you off before you could even finish your question, those abyss eyes turning to fix on your gaze.

You cocked your head in confusion. “No?” You echoed. “Why not?”

“You can’t join.” Mikey pursed his lips stubbornly as the others shuffled their feet nervously, their silence only unknowingly adding to the tension they felt weighing on their shoulders. “I won’t let you. What if you get hurt?”

“But it sounds fun,” You pouted, yet they knew instantly that wasn’t the biggest of your concerns - knowing you, it was the all what-ifs running through your head, you probably thinking you could somehow stop your friends from getting hurt, stop them from unnecessary fights. The mere thought of that was enough to warm their hardened delinquent hearts, though feel-good thoughts didn’t work either on this boy. There was no standoff though as Kazutora had initially feared; you instantly caved, throwing your hands into the air in surrender. “Alright, alright.”

“So you won’t join, right?” Draken clarified, and you nodded contentedly, a light smile as you leaned back against the old wooden beam.

“You can be an honorary member!” Kazutora immediately blurted out, unable to keep the relief from flooding through his veins, as the others burst into cheers, throwing their arms around you and pulling you into side hugs, pumping the snacks they were holding into the air. The most dreaded part of this entire operation was now history, and with you behind their decision, everything else was trivial in comparison.

Now, even the duo-colored haired boy couldn’t say exactly why he had been so worried to begin with. You were you, after all, and you were happy just to be included in this new exciting venture with your true friends, accepting the honorary member status with equal eagerness and glee. Laughing as you waved away their assurances about how it was as good as being a full member, or how they just wanted to keep you safe by not involving you in their fights, or even how you would have your very own version of their uniform, your giant smile told them all they needed to know as you ruffled and combed your fingers through their hair. You seemed just glad not to be left out. 

“You boys… haven’t decided on a logo yet? Not even a name?”

Draken ruffled your hair as he dug into an onigiri. “We were waiting on you, punk.”

And for the rest of the new founders, now with you happy and safe under their protection, the Tokyo Manji gang burst onto the scene like a storm.

‎

Mikey’s birthday was one of those events that you had been expecting for a long time yet still surprised you when it finally did pop up on your calendar. You had pondered here and there about presents, but hadn’t quite come to any particular conclusion as to what to get someone like Mikey - maybe a bunch of taiyaki? Everything you could think up felt simply too normal for such a special occasion, and you instead decided to crowdsource an opinion.

A humid and hot afternoon, combined with the lack of the slightest trace of wind, had resulted in a lazier and needier than usual boy, though you were always glad to indulge Kazutora during his lunches with you as you did with everyone else. Relaxing the shade of an overpass and sheltered from the brutal heat, it wasn’t out of the ordinary to find the duo-colored hair delinquent cuddled in your lap, burying his face into your soft thighs while you run one hand through his hair, humming along as your friend blabbered about anything and everything that came to mind in between his whines for you to keep up the hair stroking. But the peace was momentarily broken when he brought up the issue of Mikey’s birthday and present. 

“So I’mma steal a bike for Mikey.” Kazutora announced proudly. You had to admit his idea was on the surface sound and logical - you had known that Mikey came back from one of those road trips the boys went on without his precious moped, but you hadn’t been willing to prod too much into what happened, not with how vacant his eyes had been. But still -

“Absolutely not.” You chided lightly, lifting one hand to flick the middle of his forehead and break his train of thoughts. Kazutora’s gaze instantly flew to meet yours upon impact, clear confusion swirling behind his sandy brown eyes.

“Wha-” No matter how sure you were about the little flick that hurt you a lot more than your delinquent friend, it didn’t stop the tears from starting to swell up at the corner of his eyes. You’ve never raised a hand against any of them before. Ever. So why him? “T-that hurts.”

You steeled your heart as best you could in the face of his upset, though the sight of his reddening cheeks felt like a stab in your chest. All you could do was truly hope that he understood your intention, that he didn’t hate you for what you were doing. “Felonies would hurt a lot more, I would think. You are absolutely not going to steal a motorcycle.”

“B-but Mikey needs a bike! And bikes need to be handed down to us by seniors… they cost so much!”

That was also true, yet at the same time, there was no way you could just let your dear friend waltz off into the night and get himself into unknown heaps of trouble. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you did, and you knew that.

Yet, you still paused before you answered. You knew what needed to be done, but the niggling doubt almost broke free from the back of your mind where it had been banished. Could you really? It was a whole motorcycle - not just some handicraft you could pop into a store to get some materials and knock something out in a few days. A bike would mean the world to Mikey though, you knew that, even with the what-ifs - you found yourself speaking before you could finish thinking. “I’ll get him a bike.”

The unexpected confidence took both you and Kazutora aback. “You?” The boy carefully echoed.

You forced out a firm nod before you could attempt to backtrack at the heavy responsibility, biting the inside of your cheek. “Yes, me. I will do it.”

Though you weren’t quite done with this particular topic, the severity of your gaze unlike anything else you had ever dared level at your friends. “Promise me you’ll not go through with the plan to steal a bike.” 

And a visibly frightened Kazutora quickly complied, the implication of not doing so carried wordlessly by the wind. “I-I promise I won’t steal a motorcycle for Mikey.” 

“Promise promise?” 

He held up his pinky finger. “Promise promise.” You took it. 

Now armed with the verbal promise, the scary gaze quickly faded away - the few minutes of being that serious had already completely drained you, your fingers starting to thread through silky hair.

Tugging at the shirt of your school uniform, the flood gates opened once more as tears once more ran down his cheeks, Kazutora rubbing at where you had struck him earlier. “I-it hurts-s, I want kisses.” 

“Okay, okay.” You finally relented. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

‎

You were truly glad that your friends had stopped you where they did you mused, as you rounded yet another corner, the sky above having already been dark for several hours.

Even though you had given yourself extra lead time, and with blood pumping and excitement in your chest building, the week building up to D-day turned out to be anything but fun. Well, you did kind of expect that to be fair. Your friends, probably already having guessed what you were attempting, had barred you from anything to do with Mikey’s party, insisting that you focused on your present. Yet everyday still seemed like the longest day, and you stopped keeping track of where the sun was in the sky as school and work blended together. With your phone constantly ringing in your ears, and you always being on the move, the hours seemed to drag on forever, tracking every lead you have on a bike that Mikey would be proud to own. At the same time, the days seemed to wash by like water down your favorite river, peacefully slipping by one suffering minute at a time. It was endless hell running from place to place, and the phone calls from your various old clients with tip offs kept coming.

Your routine had all but gone out the window as you struggled to keep your searching a secret from Mikey; sleeping just the bare minimum of hours at night before heading to school, followed by spending your arranged time with the boys and rushing to and fro errands, before finally being able to restart your search when the sun disappeared from the overhead sky. Under the yellow overhead streetlights that lined quiet roads, and the biting cold wind that ate at your skin, you found yourself in places that you never expected to visit; those little alleyways that wound behind city buildings, speaking with people you never expected to speak to. Thankfully, everything turned out well for you, with every person you came across being polite and kind, pointing you in the right directions, until you finally, finally, had something you could work with. An older model of bike for sure, but the engine was good (or at least that was what he assured you), and the bike rode fine. And it even came with an unexpected surprise, the previous owner agreeing to sell it to you for cheap - just fifty thousand yen, which was all you managed to save up despite taking more jobs - in return for some mild favors, which you happily agreed to. 

‎

The bike was rough, very rough. Even if you did find exactly what you were looking for, the peeling leather and spotted metal was a clear indication even to inexperienced eyes just how many more hours of work laid ahead of you. You couldn’t lie about that, not even to yourself nor to the clock ticking down to the minutes to your absolute deadline. Yet there was no denying the pride swelling in your chest as you carefully wheeled your prize back to your small garage, amusement pulling soft lips up at how the motorcycle seemed to look even worse under the bright white lights that hung low from the ceiling. At least it started, right?

Retrieving a small case of tools, a heap of towels, and a beginner’s manual to motorcycles that had seen better days, you got to work. Just five days left, and at this point, you weren’t sure if you would make it.

Cross fingers.

Pulling every string and connection you had painstakingly built with every errand ran, it was still a race against the clock to get the various bits and pieces you needed customized to perfection. You even skipped an entire day of school (secretly of course, Mikey couldn’t find out) just to rush to the edge of town to pick up some expedited parts for your build. Bicycle skidding to a halt, you found the store owner seated in the doorway of his unlit shop, cigarette lazily held in one hand, a cloth-wrapped bundle by his side. Gaze rising to meet yours as you ran the last few steps, he carefully handed over your order, brushing aside the canvas to reveal its package to you. “Here’s your part. Lucky I had one spare lying around.”

Your mouth o-ed as you gaped at your reflection in the perfectly glazed metal, and you were sure that your eyes were all but sparkling when you looked up. “It’s amazing! Thank you for rushing it, ojisan!”

“Oji- hey! I’m not that old!” The older black-haired man spluttered indignantly, though the small smile he was sporting told you otherwise.

You laughed as you ran off, fuel tank cover tucked neatly under one arm, waving at the store owner with your other. “See you later, ojii-san!” 

‎

A few hours later, and you were ready to throw the wrench you had been holding out the window and bash your head into the wall, the light and warmth of the sun having long been replaced with the cheeky glimmer of moonlight and the cool breeze. How could replacing a single part be this difficult? Letting out an exaggerated sigh, you instead opted to allow the metal tool to slip to the ground with a clatter, bringing both hands up to rub at weary eyes. This entire endeavour had been a lot tougher than you had imagined, and this stupid manual did little to explain what you needed to do despite it claiming to be for beginners.

“Goddamn book,” you grumbled. You did have one out of course - you really hated to bother him more than you needed to, even if the former owner of the motorcycle had given you his blessing to call him whenever necessary - but this was truly an emergency. There was no way you were ever going to figure this out yourself. Picking up your phone, you took a deep breath.

A ring, two rings, and then the call connected.

“Hey! Sorry for calling this late.” You paused, sneaking a glance at the small clock balanced carefully on the edge of one shelf. “Were you asleep?” 

“If I was, I’m not anymore am I? What’s up?” Came his familiar bemused voice over the phone, and you swore you could see the twinge of his lips carried in that soothing tone. Yet despite him not sounding the least bit sleepy to you, his soft breathing accompanied by the occasional clinging of metal against metal in the background that suggested some sort of workshop, you couldn’t quite shake the twinge of guilt that settled on your chest. How could you keep imposing on someone that already helped you so much?

“Sorry for disturbing you again um - I’ll hang up- ”

But he cut you off before you could finish, the sudden rise in volume had you wincing slightly. “No!” A deep inhale, before the boy on the other end continued, his voice once more even and low. “No no, it’s fine, you’re not a bother at all. I told you not to apologize so much right? It’ll get you in trouble some day.”

“Sorry.” You couldn’t help but blurt out again, your hand quickly flying up to slap your mouth in horror when you realized what you did - you were sure that the clap of flesh was clearly audible through the phone along with your mortification.

A chuckle, and then a creak; and that was all it took to distract you from the start of a downward spiral of anxiety. You could almost just imagine the boy on the other side of the line leaning forward in his chair, elbows pressed down on his thighs, phone propped against one ear. You couldn’t quite pinpoint why the mental image made your cheeks flush and burn, but you quickly brushed those particularly intrusive thoughts aside when his voice echoed across the phone again. “So why’d ya call?”

“Oh! Um-” You startled, nearly dropping the manual you had propped open in your lap when you tried to shift backwards on the small stool you were perched on, one slim finger running down the page in a hasty attempt to recall which part of the complex text you had been stuck at for the past hour. “It’s a bit silly, but I’m stuck at changing the oil filter.”

“The oil filter?”

“Yeah, the manual only - wait,” Flipping the page back and forth failed to materialize any of the information you actually needed, and you sighed as you let the page drop. “The manual only says you need to change it, but not where it is or how. I have a new one with me, but I’m super stuck.”

There was no reply to your question, your phone instead picking up the sound of hurried whispers that you couldn’t make out, followed by a few soft creaks of metal. His voice suddenly booming back over the speaker almost gave you a heart attack, but he did at least bring good news. “The oil filter’s at the bottom of the bike, near the front wheel. Do you have a torque wrench? The bit should be - uh - hexagonal-ish.”

“Let me check,” You sighed out, turning to fumble inside your toolbox with only the vaguest idea of what that particular tool looked like. This was going to be a long night.

Long, as you found out, was in fact a generous term for those few days (and nights) leading up to Mikey’s birthday. Because when D-day finally rolled around and the last bolt was tightened into place, it was pure relief that swept through your veins, and you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything more than drag your exhausted self straight up to bed and collapse into the inviting soft bed and pillows, only pausing to switch into a clean shirt. You fell asleep before your head hit the pillow.

But alas there was no rest for the wicked, and peace was not meant to be. Because boy did D-day start off with a bang. Literally. You were jolted awake from your sleep by the cry of your ringtone, and you fumbled for the device screaming away without a care from your bedside table. “H-hello?”

Your name was hollered through the speaker, barely audible against the rumble of engines and the very distinctive, very unmistakable sound of police sirens, and you immediately sat up. “Pah?! What happened?”

There was a scuffle as the phone was seemingly passed to another of your friends. “We got in a fight, but the police were especially fast today,” Draken laughed out, the wind zipping past him making him sound a thousand miles away. “Can we hide out at yours?”

“Garage’s open,” you replied automatically, and then the roar of engines flaring up before the call cut. Thank goodness past-night you had the foresight to hide Mikey’s present away when you were done, the bike tucked neatly and securely in a corner no one would think to look at (behind a shelf of books that is). One quick breakfast later, and you were off to school, content with letting your friends hang around - it was a strange choice all things considered to attend classes on this special day, given you had skipped out for less. But you had your reasons, and your classes were spent with your head nestled in your folded arms, fast asleep behind propped up books, attempting to claw back as much of your lost sleep as you could - today definitely wasn’t a day you wanted to accidentally fall asleep on. Never again, you swore, the all-nighters you had pulled repeatedly now back to haunt you.

As it turned out, your choice of small naps in school throughout the day was actually the right one, given how you were instantly ambushed when you returned home in the afternoon, the cloudy overhead sky seemingly out to taunt you with the ideal napping weather. 

Your front door slammed open, the eager figure of Kazutora already halfway out before he could finish his sentence. “You’re back! Let’s go already!” 

“H-huh? Wai-” Thrown over his shoulder and rushed off to your garage before you could blink, you found yourself being unceremoniously dumped into the passage seat of a bike and whisked off to god-knows-where despite never quite having the opportunity to set your bag full of books down, your Toman friends’ motorbikes filling every of your senses even as your head whirled with your lack of sleep and the quick pace of events. Didn’t stop your laughter from bubbling up and over though, as the chilly, blinding winds that tore at your eyes and ears woke you straight back up.

Somehow, someway, the entire day’s plan went off without a hitch. Entertaining Mikey had really been as easy as Draken had said, the boy overjoyed at being dragged from cafe to carnival and back to cafe, everyone having pitched in to spoil Mikey with all his best-loved foods and activities. You don’t think you’ve seen a person eat as many taiyakis in one sitting before today, though you only ruffled blond hair when he was finished - a birthday’s a birthday after all. And when night time fell, a very stuffed gang indeed rolled up to their favorite hangout on the bank of the lazy river, where you had secretly peeled away earlier to hide your present nearby. The weather was somehow amazing despite your initial worries of rain - the sky full of gray clouds that had been threatening to pour all day had finally moved along nicely - and the full moon had emerged from its cover of clouds.

‎

You certainly assumed that you were being sneaky Mikey mused, following your back fade into the dark of the night from the corner of his eye as you attempted to tiptoe away from the group as best you could. Yet even with the rest of his five friends trying their best to cover for you and him being faced almost completely away from you, there was no way he would let you waltz off that easily - you were the safest with him after all.

Yet it seemed that his crafty agenda (or so he thought at least) was discovered almost as quickly as Mikey made it up, Mitsuya immediately stepping between Mikey and his view of you.

“Shut up, I know you know.” The lilac haired boy whispered urgently under his breath, following that up with a quick slap to the back of Mikey’s head when he failed to release you from his gaze despite you throwing a cautious look backwards. “Just play along idiot.”

“Fine, fine.” He grumbled, finally allowing abyss eyes to drift from you to focus on the sight of Pah laughing alongside Kazutora. For all his curiosity on your comings and goings, Mikey wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you got sad over your little surprise being ruined. 

Turning his attention back to the group, even the whoops and cheers of the rest of his friends as they set off sparklers didn’t quite mask the sound of new rubber creaking and rubbing against pavement as you fiddled with something behind his back, though Mikey was doing everything he could not to turn around. Just a few more minutes, the boy mentally chided himself, and he was on his last leg of self control when finally, finally - the moment everyone had been waiting for.

A pop of streamers, and he was forcibly whirled around to face you and his unknown present.

‎

“Happy Birthday from all of us, Mikey!” You laughed out, the barely held back excitement clear in your eyes as you tossed off the beige coverings with a flourish. And from under the seemingly plain canvas, the moonlight scattered across the polished surface of a gleaming CB250T. 

The Toman insignia shone proud, a blaze of gold that popped out against the gloss black of the custom built fuel tank, somehow catching the light of the overhead streetlamp despite every inch of the motorcycle being equally cleaned and polished to perfection. The silver of the frame contrasting against the matt black of new tires, the brand of ‘Kamikaze’ across the front of the bike - it was clear that there was no shortage of love and attention, and a healthy amount of blood and sweat no less, that had been poured in to bring this present to reality. If he wasn’t busy gawking with his jaw dropped like an elementary schooler, Mikey was sure he would instead be occupied slapping himself silly trying to free himself from the dream he was sure he was trapped in. Because how could this be real? 

Dropping the bike’s kickstand to allow it to stand free, you stepped back, the surge of anxiety having you bounce on your heels, fidgeting in vain to keep yourself calm waiting for a reaction. Did the boys like your work? Did Mikey like the bike? As the seconds ticked by undisturbed, you found yourself yearning more and more for just any reaction, your gaze flittering from one pair of eyes, the pounding of your heart away in your chest making it harder and harder to breathe. But for all the nervousness playing havoc on your mind in the single quiet moment before the storm, it seemed your worry was all for naught.

“Where did you- ” Was all Mikey could mutter out in the moment, stumbling forward to graze his fingertips across the cool metal, the streak of fingerprints left on previously unmarked areas only sealing that it was as real as him. Swinging round to take a brief glance at the rest of his now-oddly quiet friends, it was obvious that none of them were in the loop either, judging from the recognizable looks of astonishment reflected back at him, with Baji looking like he was on the verge of passing out, propping himself up against the safety rail. 

Even Draken couldn’t seem to hold himself back from the tantalizing glimmer of moonlight in the pools of seemingly infinite darkness, his own black eyes swinging up to meet yours in shock. “Is that- ?”

You would be biting your nails at this point if your friends weren’t as vehemently opposed to the habit - it was getting harder by the second to suppress that particular urge. “D-do you like it?”

A moment of silence.

And then, absolute chaos - an onslaught as sudden and harsh as the unexpected wind that swept down along the small canal.

Letting out the breath you didn’t know you had been holding, your worry seemed a million miles away now as you leapt to throw your arms around an elated Mikey, allowing the blond-haired boy to bury his face into your chest even while you sent a secret wink at Kazutora. You did promise a bike that Mikey could be proud of come hell or high water after all, and the relief at being able to deliver was impalpable.

“Did you steal this?” Baji couldn’t help but blurt out in awe as he eagerly yanked Kazutora off the seat of the bike to have a go himself, asking the question everyone had already been thinking. “Where did you even get something like this from?”

“It’s a hand-me-down, I swear.” 

The incredulous looks you got in response were clear enough that your friends didn’t need to put it into words, you laughing as you crossed your heart with a single delicate finger. “I swear, guys! Come on!”

“Must have crossed a fortune,” Draken muttered, squatting to take a look at the meticulously cleaned engine and the shiny pipes that made up the frame. “It looks new.”

You puffed up, a rare smug smile replacing the usual adorable one. “Previous owner upgraded recently or so I heard, I got it at an absolute steal! You should have seen the state it was in, I cleaned it up myself.”

“And the previous owner is…?” Mitsuya followed up, one eyebrow elegantly lifted as he watched his friends crawling all around the new toy. 

“Can’t tell you that, I promised not to say. But it’s really a hand-me-down! Really!”

The Toman founders took your word for it - this was something they would never tell you about save you try to hide it from them, but you had a bad habit for wearing your entire heart on your sleeve, and the gleeful, shiny-eyed look you had gleaming from the depths of those wide eyes in the moment told them all they needed to know. You never lied to them before, and the boys had no reason to believe you would at a time like this either. 

Grabbing the hanging keys from your smaller hand was child’s play, and so was wrestling a dumbfounded you into the back of the motorbike with a toothy smile. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Mikey roared, as party hats were quickly jammed onto everyone’s head and a helmet on yours. And off you went cheering into the quiet night, the goosebump-raising roar of motorbikes marking the start of the real celebrations.

‎

The next day, although a school day, had also been slated for the after-party celebration. One day was far from enough, and you did decide to skip class again, given it was the first birthday that you were celebrating with your friends. Though this still couldn’t quite explain why everyone decided that the best course of action to carry on the celebratory mood was to crash your house. That was how you found yourself with your friends strewn randomly, haphazardly across your bedroom floor, most of them opting for just a comforter thrown over the cool wooden floor, with only the birthday boy himself allowed to cuddle with you up in your bed, limbs tangled and face snuggled into your side. Why your house you suppose you would never find out you thought to yourself, considering that it was Mikey’s birthday and not yours. But you didn’t mind of course, not in the slightest, secretly pleased that they liked your place enough.

Or that was what you originally thought to yourself, until the group launched their unscheduled attack on you, now refreshed and determined to get answers from you on your earlier stunt. In your own room to boot.

‎

“Still not going to spill where you got the bike, huh?” Draken solemnly asked again, though you didn’t miss the mirth twinkling from behind his eyes or the amused quirk of the corner of his lips. You shook your head, only to quickly yip and try to wriggle away when Baji ran the feather you swore he pulled from your winter jacket up and down your foot, earning another round of giggles from you.

“W-wait! S-stop-p!” You squealed, and much to your relief, they did, allowing you to catch your breath for the first time in the past ten or so minutes of almost non-stop laughter.

“Gonna talk now?” Pah grinned, jokingly punching his hand. 

“C-come on guys, I really-y-y - hehe - can’t tell you!” You pleaded almost tearfully, and the two boys who had been digging into your ticklish spots were already ready to cave, face with your watery eyes.

“Why not?” Kazutora chimed in, his head popping into your view from the side where he had been helping to keep one arm carefully pinned to the bed with his cheek.

“You know why! I promised!”

But Mikey had other ideas. “Guess we can’t stop then,” The blond-haired boy ordered, even as he turned his back on you to instead continue sucking on the lollipop you had given him earlier. “Carry on the punishment.”

“No waiiiiittt-“ Was all you could get out before the room once more filled with a symphony composed entirely from your hiccups and giggles and pleads for mercy, a joyful tune that didn’t fail to bring large smiles to all the boys’ faces as tears started to pour freely down your cheeks.

You still cooked them breakfast anyway.

‎

The thought of your non-answers faded from their minds as the days passed by even though they never did get the information they had been hunting for - not with the thrill of finally being able to roar down city and country streets alike together a top speed, Mikey’s new ride a fierce black and silver against the dull gray of paved roads, you whooping from the passenger seat. You had never lied to them, and your friends were more than willing to give you the benefit of their doubt this time, trusting that you really did just happen across someone wanting to pass down his CB250T. Even the registration and licenses matched up, with you having made the transfer in ownership to Mikey earlier on in secret before gifting the bike, although no amount of digging around seemed to give up the identity of its previous owner. You really did a good job with hiding your tracks, and the boys had to admit they were somewhat proud.

But despite your Toman friends hoping for these good times to never end, their honeymoon period came to an unexpected screeching halt.

“I still think there’s someone else in the picture,” The duo-colored boy grumbled bitterly, sandy brown eyes turned up at the empty sky. It was clear the incident that had played out just earlier that afternoon was still living rent-free in his head, the bite in his tone hard to miss for the other five gathered round. They knew what he was referring to, given it ran its course right after a fantastic lunch shared in the shade of an underground passage a stone’s throw from your home. 

“Sorry boys, gonna have to pass for today.”

Those few words had been enough to catch the attention of the entire group, and six pairs of eyes instantly whirled round to land squarely on you. “B-but you always ride with us!” Baji protested, knuckles whitening as his hand tightened around his personalized bento box, the plastic creaking slightly under the force of his grip. Were you hiding something from them?

“I’ll let you ride with me,” Mikey offered, though even that wasn’t enough to sway you despite the bike being the same one you had poured your blood and sweat into, and you shook your head.  It was the first time you had ever done that to your friends, let alone on a day as ideal as this for a ride - hot sun and a cool breeze that blew away any trace of sweat.

“It’s strange I know, but I have something I need to do.”

“I’ll come with you!” Kazutora immediately piped up, as he scooted forward to make room for you to ride passenger on his bike, patting the seat behind him. “It’s faster on a bike, right?”

But you only laughed, turning his offer down as sweetly as you always had, as if you weren’t shattering his whole world with your response. “It’s alright Kazutora! I won’t be long. You shouldn’t miss riding with the rest because of me.”

“Where’re you going?” Draken’s unusually serious gaze bore into you, though you simply waved it off. 

“A small errand I have to do. They helped with Mikey’s bike, so I’m just returning the favor.”

“One errand?”

“Mmm! Just this once, I promise.” That smile you always had never fell as you hopped the few steps away from the group of bikes. “I’ll be back before you boys realize it!” And then you were gone, disappeared round the bend in the road, a skip in your step and a tune under your breath.

But your eyes had shone with the same sincerity as always when you waved them off from the porch of your house, arms laden with empty boxes, promising to prepare a snack when they returned. And you did as you promised. They weren't sure exactly when you reached home, but the hot, piping snack was ready on your dining table when they returned.

“Drop it, Kazutora.” Mikey drawled, tossing the wrapper of his lollipop into the bin behind him without a glance backwards, before stuffing the sweet into his mouth. 

In the eyes of the group, there was no reason to push this issue any further with you - you told them what you were doing and why you were doing it. Besides, their hands were full as it is, with Toman’s strength swelling in size far more rapidly than they had previously anticipated. Too distracted between organizing new members and beating rivals, they were more than willing to let this seemingly one-off event slide. You wouldn’t do anything horrendous to your treasured friends would you?

‎

But then it happened again.

It always was the best day of the week when you appeared from the front gates of your school, bags of bento boxes slung over both arms.

“What’s for lunch?” Pah all but demanded, attempting to poke one grabby hand into the lunch bag, though it was quickly swatted away by Mitsuya, whose offer of help to alleviate your burdens was accepted.

You usually ate with at least one of them at lunch, but with the growing Toman and responsibilities that came with it, sunny afternoons like these were one of the few consistent times that you could see everyone together. Heading to the group’s favorite alleyway a stone’s throw from your school gates, you spread out a small blanket in the shade of the tall brick-lined walls as the boys yanked their own boxes from your bags, recognising their lunch by the furoshiki you always wrapped them in. 

“Wait - fuck! That’s mine, asshole!” 

One by one, the tops were cranked open, and the boys dug in. Yet even after all the various members of the group had their personal boxes, and putting yours aside on a space next to Draken, who you trusted to stop anyone attempting to have your lunch as well, you still had one box left in the bag.

“Ya counted wrong or something?” Pah-chin pointed at the remaining box, a confused look replacing the previous excited one on his face. “Ya brain turning to mush too?”

“Maybe it is all the studying getting to my head, Pah-chin.” You beamed, ruffling his tuft of hair slightly before carefully lifting the last box free and into the sunlight for the first time, the bento wrapped carefully in what seemed like a new furoshiki that none of them recognised - a crane print one with the elegant birds locked in an eternal dance on the silky cloth. “You boys go ahead, I’ll just drop this off and be right back.”

Before anyone could ask or even follow you, you were gone, leaving your friends alone and bewildered. What was going on?

You were cooking for someone else now? Wasn’t your cooking only for them? For your closest and dearest friends? Was this related to the previous time you flaked on their ride? 

Judging from the irked looks being pulled across the faces of the various members, these incidents could no longer be overlooked. With no other way around it, your friends resolved to speak to you and help get your priorities straight. Even if you weren’t doing it on purpose, they couldn’t risk having you risking your safety through seeing someone else that they haven’t vetted. Or even worse, making new friends with literal strangers. You were bound to be taken advantage of with how kind and naive you were, and they must protect you from the harshness of the world. 

And if you didn’t listen to them, well, that was an issue that they would deal with within their own world.

But alas, it seemed things were not meant to be that day, and the Toman founders instead found themselves being jumped by a group of delinquents in a uniform they didn’t recognise as they were steeling themselves for the talk. Already thirsting for blood - anyone’s blood at this point - their plan to corner you about your little side adventures was all but forgotten as your six friends flew into action under the shadow of the alley walls, the crunch of bones quelling their annoyance at being disrupted. 

Noses were broken, guts were punched, and the newest Toman members were sent packing with their tails between their legs. Returning to a sight of the boys nonchalantly helping themselves to and finishing up your lunch, you could only bring yourself to only feel at most slightly annoyed at the empty box you returned to. Settling for just a sigh and a tutt, and sitting yourself down next to Draken so you could lean on him as support, you munched away at the sandwich you packed in case of emergencies like these as the rest laughed and joked and teased. You could never get angry at your friends.

And so life went on for you.

‎

It had been days since then, and tonight so happened to be one of those nights that Baji found himself once more unable to sleep. Maybe it was the hot and humid night, one of those where the wind was nowhere to be found and all he could feel was the sweat building up and pouring down his forehead, where even the stale breeze kicked up from riding full speed on his motorcycle didn’t seem to help. Or maybe it was the bright full moon that shone directly into his window, the light of which he couldn’t get out of his head. Whatever it was, the fact remained that Baji couldn't sleep, and even after winding up and down familiar empty city streets, he somehow found himself back on his street just further down the road, near where you lived.

These sort of nights always seemed to lead him back to you. He knew you wouldn’t mind if he crashed for a bit. A hot drink and a few of your tired blinks and yawns might be the cure he needs to rid himself of this restlessness. Maybe you’ll even let him crash with you for the night; perhaps your arms wrapped tight around him was just what he needed to sleep. The street in front of your house was always quiet at this time of the night - your neighbors were run-of-the-mill families who had work and school to wake for after all - and the only sounds that dared to break the silence as Baji tracked down the lifeless street was the flickering of bulbs overhead and the occasional chirp of crickets.

Or at least so Baji thought, pushing his bike along until your house finally appeared over the curve of the horizon. And there you were, standing in front of your house when you should have been asleep. Yet before he could call out to you, ask you what you were doing up so late past your bedtime, his voice died away when he saw your delicate hands wrapped around a helmet that didn’t look familiar, to the side of a bike that didn’t look familiar.

Illuminated by the light of the full moon behind you, Baji watched as you handed over the helmet shimmering in the night, your lips moving as you muttered something that he couldn’t hear. And then someone accepting it from you, a boy - his hands lingering on yours for an unacceptable amount of time before moving to hang the helmet loosely from his handlebar.

What was this he was seeing? What was this supposed to be? You didn’t even seem to notice Baji, one of your oldest friends, standing right here, the look of disbelief smeared clearly across his face, white knuckles still clutching the handlebars of his motorcycle even as he tried to force himself to move. Towards you? Away from you? Anything but this. Just let go and move, he screamed at himself from the confines of his mind, chapped lips mouthing nonsensical words.

But all Baji could do was stand and stare, his body frozen for reasons beyond him. And the worst part? Their eyes met. Just for a moment as that piece of garbage looked up and away from you, turning to glance down both sides of the street, but he saw, and he knew. He knew Baji was watching. The absolute bastard, who knew he was standing right there, leaned in close and caught your lips in a quick peck, before pulling away. And in that moment, under the yellow light of the overhead streetlamp, Baji watched your face flush, your hand moving up to touch your lips - in shock or horror he couldn’t tell. Or in love.

But that jerk wasn't done. As if he hadn't defiled your sweet face enough, his filthy fingers moved to run through your hair in what seemed like nothing more than a mocking copy of the heavenly way you ran your fingers through Baji's, gently tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. And then turning in Baji’s direction to toss him one last smug grin as that bastard finally sauntered off, bike roaring into the hush night, all he could do was watch you - with his own two eyes - shly wave off that shitstain, before you turned and retreated into your house, a skip in your step.

Toman’s first division captain was bad at remembering a lot of things at school - math formulas, geography, whatever boring words his teachers had to say much to the anguish of his mum - but this was the one thing he would never forget. The face of this lesser-than-garbage who dared to steal his friend away that was now burned into the back of his eyelids. What were you thinking? How could you associate with criminal scum? Who knows what he has done with those foul hands of his that he touched you with so casually?

Now, more than ever, Baji couldn't bear to leave you alone without them, to be alone without you, and so he forced himself to wait right there, hands still firmly on the handlebars, his bike resting on his waist. Minutes ticked by, one painful minute at a time, or maybe they did. The breeze had picked up between then and now; it was now a harsh, biting wind that tore at his eyes and tossed his hair. His brain was screaming at him to report this - the boy simply knew he had to let the rest know - yet all he could numbly think about as he stood underneath the streetlamp, white noise buzzing in his ears, was how much he just wanted to check up on you.

He waited until he could not, his bare hands freezing on his handlebar, until he was sure it had been long enough between that dickbag leave and him arriving. Your spare key was where you had always left it, where it had always been: tucked away in a soft cotton pouch behind a loose wooden panel in the wall. Stopping his bike inside your heated garage, the warmth on his numb body was but a temporary relief, his last refuge before he had to face the storm. The turmoil in his gut only grew and grew with every step he took towards your front door. Baji hesitated, his fist resting on your door for a few moments, the turmoil within him too much for just a moment, before he finally moved to rap his knuckles.

Hearing you sing out "Coming!" from up top, something about that cheerful note hit him wrong. Unable to pinpoint what it was that he felt in that moment, Baji couldn't help the tears that started welling up, even when he tried to force his indiscernible feelings back down. Was it seeing you happy with someone else? Was it your continued cheer even after you betrayed your friends for a stranger?

And it was to his mournful face that you opened to, Baji immediately stumbling in, wrapping his arms tight around you, burying his face into your chest, the tears he couldn’t stop wetting the soft shirt you had on for the night.

“Baji?” You didn't seem surprised - you never did - simply standing still and allowing him to bawl his eyes out on your front step, wrapping your arms around him, gently stroking the back of his head and humming quietly to him. “You okay?”

He didn't even need to ask to stay; you bundled him into your room, your comforting arms wrapped around him as you ushered him to the low coffee table he knew so well. “Sit, okay? I’ll be right back.” Your low voice seemed to linger in your still bedroom as you disappeared out the door, leaving Baji frighteningly alone with his own thoughts. 

And you were; with two mugs of hot chocolate in hand, the two of you silently sharing a drink in the darkness of your room, with only the occasional sniffle and the whistle of wind through your open window breaking the silence. You weren't like that, was what rolled through Baji's mind, as he crawled exhausted into your bed, you tucking him in under your sheets tight before turning in for the night yourself, the two empty mugs left neatly on your table to wash the next day. You wouldn't cheat on your friends- and definitely not your best friends, he tried to reassure himself, as he wrapped his arms around you, pressing his head into your chest, your hand coming to rest on the top of his head. You were too kind for that, his eyes flickered close as your breathing evened out. So why didn't he believe that?

Sending off the nightmare scene he had witnessed was Baji’s first priority as soon as his eyes popped open, the black-haired boy guiltily reaching over for his phone even while you snoozed on undisturbed. This was something he should have done the previous night, but no one could quite fault him for this delay; the mere thought of you seeing someone else, maybe even having a boyfriend, it almost broke the boys. Panic mode, armageddon, there didn’t seem to be a word that could quite encompass the instant turmoil. 

This wasn't something they expected. It wasn't in the calculations. They weren't prepared. When did this happen? Your Toman friends thought they made sure to scare off any that had even the most remote chance of stealing you away from them. Was he where you got Mikey’s bike? Was this the favor and strings you pulled? How long have you been seeing him?

Despite the emergency this new development had plunged them into, the boys had still planned for their initial inquiry to be gentle. You were delicate, and your emotions even more so; they didn’t want to scare you off by coming on too strong or throw around false accusations that would drive you away. Maybe just a few quick questions weaved in between ordinary conversation about who that guy was and what was his relationship with you. Something that wouldn’t catch your attention too much while they investigated more behind the scene. But all their plans went out the window when Kazutora, unable to contain himself, with jealousy and anger written clearly across his face and burning in his gaze, stormed up to you the next morning. “Who was that?” He demanded, though his voice quivered and his eyes started to water. “Who was that bastard last night?”

‎

You didn’t deny it.

And the dam broke, with the rest of the group all but swarming you, each bearing their envy and resentment in their own special way. But you didn't even flinch in the face of your friends' raging insecurities, allowing them to pull at your limbs and rant and seethe and pout at you. Draken and Mitsuya with their standoffish attitude, content with seething internally and throwing you dirty looks through narrowed eyes, Pah-chin and Baji getting louder and louder trying to convince you of something you couldn’t quite make out, and Mikey and Kazutora all but yanking at your arms, their silent pleading conveyed through their shiny eyes.

To a certain extent, you could say that you were used to this - they did act up like this occasionally, especially when they wanted time that you couldn’t give them. This round was definitely what counted as an escalated tantrum, but you couldn’t really blame them in the end. It was your fault for hiding this from them, and you did feel guilty. Yet at the same time, you couldn’t say for sure why they were reacting so harshly. Weren’t they glad that you made a new friend all by yourself?

“What’s wrong?” You soothed their grasping hands. “I don’t understand yet, but I’ll listen.” What was it about your newest friend that they didn’t like? 

He was part of a different gang, they tried to tell you, as you stood there patiently, soothingly. Riding under a different banner, fighting for a different leader. A rival; to Toman, to them, and to you. “You can’t see him! He’s not Toman!” Mikey insisted. What if he was just using you to get to them? What if he hurts you? Couldn't you see that?

Trying your best to calm them down, you allowed them to pull at your shirt even as you ran your fingers through their hair, pulling others into a hug and into your lap even as you answered their questions. Yes he did ask you on a date in return for his help with the bike - or rather, in return for his bike, you thought to yourself - but it was nothing serious. He just wanted to know you better, and vice versa. Yes, you also knew he was part of a different gang, clear from the insignia of his bike, but he never did bring it up nor hang it over your head, so you didn't either. And no, you didn’t like him that way, and him being there was no way diminishing how important your friends were to you. Hell, you could even say outright that he was in no way as important to you as your friends.

‎

“Just let me give him a chance,” yet you continued to plead on behalf of what they saw as literal trash, refusing to let up and just compile like you always did before. “It’s nothing serious I swear. He won’t get in the way at all.”

Your street was busy as it always was at this time of the day, the rumble of cars and trample of feet as your neighbors returned home after a long day, having long learnt to ignore the mass of bikes and people gathered on the porch of your house. You couldn’t seem to understand what they were trying to tell you - it wasn’t just about the very limited time you had to spend with them and your priceless love and attention that this scumbag was stealing away from them. You - your entire self - was actively being taken away from them, and you didn’t even seem to fight it? Were you trying to leave?

“Then why?” Draken raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest in his clearest sign of displeasure. 

You sighed, running one hand through your hair. “It was a promise I made, and you know I don’t like breaking promises. He helped a lot with your bike, you know.”

“I don’t care. I said no, and that means no.” Mikey huffed, brushing off the hand you had resting on his shoulder. 

But you were still relentless, those doe eyes of yours shimmering with hope that they simply couldn’t understand. “Come on, you guys trust me, don’t you? Just this once, please? I promise I won’t do anything weird.”

They could do nothing but watch you thank them for their concern, waving a quick bye at them before disappearing into your house, a spring still in your step as if nothing wrong had happened. As if you hadn’t just tried to forsake whatever they had so painstakingly built for you for some stranger you didn’t know. They had failed you. You had failed them.

Where was your loyalty to Toman? To them?

With no other option open to them, it seemed that yet again, they had to take matters into their own hands no matter how much they rather not have to. It was all for your own good, of course - having to interfere in your personal life hurts them as much as it hurts you, watching your face twist with sorrow when you are abandoned yet again by what you had thought was a new friend. But your naivety, which had been what endeared you to them to begin with, was getting in the way of your usual steadfast logic and reasoning, and none of your friends was quite ready to see you lose that aspect that they loved so much. But as it was always the case when it came to you, it seemed that the six boys would have to be the one to step up and protect you once more, as friends should. 

At least one small mercy granted by whoever was watching over you was that your new so-called friend was also a delinquent. And that carried with it the ability to settle things their way. You wouldn’t even complain either - you never did when they fought with other gangs after all, so why would this be different?

Toman, with its expanded membership and Mikey its unquestioned head, could theoretically easily keep you under watch throughout all hours of the day, but needless to say, its founding members were reluctant to let anyone else come close to you. No, they couldn’t risk it, not when you already showed your ability to wander off from them at a drop of a hat. Even if your friends did try their best to occupy as much of your time as they could, to the point of letting you dip your toes into their world, allowing you to sit at their meetings with the hope that if you saw just how dark, how violent their world and their rivals were, maybe it’ll open your eyes in a way their words couldn’t. 

And while they waited for any signs of effectiveness, between the six of them, it was agreed that they would each take turns to watch you when you were away from their side. No actions were to be taken in front of you though - you didn’t need to see that side of them yet.

“Fuck, let go of me Ken-chin! I’ll kill him!” But that vow was almost already broken on the first day almost as soon as it had begun, starting with a near miss when Draken had to physically wrestle Mikey from leaving their little hideout and handing out one of his nuclear kicks. Two pairs of black eyes had watched in utter contempt as you gently rested your head on his shoulder, as if you already felt safe enough around this absolute stranger like you were around them. And the other just…let you. No brushing you off, no jerking back. Like how your Toman friends let you. Though all they could do was continue to watch as that dirtbag picked away at the bento you had made, wrapped in that same crane-printed furoshiki they have come to despise, when he suddenly put aside the box to pull you into his lap. 

You giggled - giggled - when he rested his chin atop your head, arms wrapped around your waist, allowing you to swing your legs freely from where you were perched, the light breeze tossing your hair about, content with hand-feeding the jerk, your body language screaming nothing but being relaxed in his grasp. Mikey’s face was void of emotions when Draken finally let him go, long after you had left hand in hand with that jerk, but Draken recognised the wrath that blazed behind those eyes too well. It was, after all, a clear reflection of his own.

Similarly, Baji had to knock Kazutora straight out cold before he could outright shank the shitstain running their lives, your life, after having to spend an entire afternoon observing you hand feeding lunch to him. An afternoon that you had originally scheduled for errands, time that was theirs, now gone, instead devoted to entertaining a bastard that didn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone bathe in your gentle gaze like they did.

Even Mitsuya, the most level-headed, laidback founding member of Toman, had been all but fuming by the end of his shift, his normal calmness gone, replaced with a cold fury that burned deep in his eyes as he stormed off past Pah-chin. Nails dug into his palms and an unbearable thirst for blood raging in his chest after spending an afternoon following you around at a fair, the usually calm lilac-haired boy wanting nothing more than to tear out and feast on the eyes of that imbecile you let kiss ice cream off your reddened cheek, fingers tightly intertwined with his.

You had been their stability from the start, the hidden glue that held Toman together. It had always been you. Being there for them through the ups and downs, steadily carrying and pushing them forward no matter what happened, soothing away their anger and frustrations. Without you there, silently cheering them on when they were victorious and comforting them when they weren't, none of them could say whether there would even be a Toman. But now with the road to leaving them behind in the past open to you, the world that they had wanted to build with you, for you, was threatening to crumble.

No. None of the six needed to speak, yet the singular thought echoed through each and every of their minds. You couldn’t possibly survive in this harsh and cruel world without them. Not kind, naive you. And they couldn’t fathom a life without you by their side. The Tokyo Manji Gang wouldn't allow this. And them, as your real friends, wouldn't allow this. You simply can’t leave.

This was war.

#tokyo revengers #yandere tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #yandere tokyo revengers x reader #mikey x reader #baji x reader #mitsuya x reader #kazutora x reader #kazutora #sano manjiro #keisuke baji #draken x reader #draken #tokyo rev x you #tokyorev x reader #tokyorev x you #tokyo rev #mitsuya takashi #pah x reader #pah chin #cheesus answers #yandere platonic toman

[macfrog]

Max, it’s my birthday today 🥳 How would Joel celebrate??

happy belated birthday love!!!!! hope you had a wonderful day 💙

it all depends which joel you're talking about. 👇

dbf would call you first thing in the morning, probably wake you up. you'd groan a hello? down the line and he'd chuckle, say, happy birthday, baby and ask what you're doing with your day. tell you he's making breakfast, so get your ass over here.

and when you do - because he has some experience in the decorating field 😉 - he's decked the place out in streamers, balloons, bunting, confetti lining the floor. he'd pop a little gold party hat on your head and make your favorite breakfast, sit you down n say ah-ah and click his fingers anytime you tried to move to help.

he'd get you, like, a framed poster of your favorite movie. maybe one of those signed scripts. something grey's anatomy with you're my person engraved in it. idk sickly sweet. he'd spend the whole day pampering you and making a fuss over you and then take you upstairs n finish the day with a bang. ha ha.

ceo would spend too much on decorations, food, a cake. man doesn't understand when too much is too much. he'd make martha wear a hat, make her blow on one of those party horn things when you arrived at work that day.

and he'd flirt. non-stop. so much flirting, and so much touching. he'd book a lunch somewhere, drag you along, sit with his arm over the back of your chair and make sure you ordered whatever the hell you wanted. 's your day, he'd tell you, want you to enjoy it.

and then at 5 on the dot he'd give you a ride home, probably fool around a little in the backseat because it's joel, y'know? he'd get you so wound up that you end up dragging him up to your apartment to finish what he started.

i hate my birthday but best believe i'd fucking like it if either of these men were around to celebrate w me

#chats w max #marvelarrangements #dbf!joel #ceo!joel #joel miller drabble

[pocketsizedquasar]

very belated birthday gift for my lovely lovely partner @coulson-is-an-avenger 💖💖💖 i love u very much 💖

a scene from their delightful ghost martin fic “identical words against different time frames” which you absolutely Must Read. right now. go read it. immediately

also happy pride have some queer trans joy

(ID: A digital drawing of Jon and Martin from the magnus archives. Martin is picking up Jon in a spinning hug, with their faces pressed against each other. They are both laughing/crying with joy. They are in front of a small round table with a flower vase on it, tucked into a window corner. All around both of them is written the name “martin” over and over again in various styles, with different underlines and boxes and emphasis on the word.

Jon is a thin Persian person with medium brown skin and long, curly graying dark hair. They have a beard, glasses, and scars dotting their skin. He is wearing a long, sheer floral yellow skirt, heeled ankle boots, a dark blue tank top, an ace ring on his right hand,and a nazar necklace. They are clutching their cane against Martin‘a back. Martin is a fat Black and filipino man with dark freckled skin and thick dark hair in cornrows, pulled into a bun. He has glasses and vitiligo dotting his face and hands. He is wearing a turquoise argyle patterned sweater and dark jeans.)

#tma #the magnus archives #jon sims #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #tma fanart #magnuspod #magpod #rusty quill #rqdescribed #art #my art

[ashesandhackles]

(belated) Happy Birthday @bluethepineapple

A fleurmione moodboard and (smutty) drabble:

A warm hand on the wings of her back.

Her face, pressed to the pillow, strands of her hair clinging to each other, glistening with sweat.

"Hermione," she murmured, her trembling fingers curling into an open fist. She could hear the sea, a comforting lullaby to their lovemaking.

Ringlets of Hermione's hair tickled the nape of her neck. The place, her grand-mère said, where the wings are born. Such a shame grand-mère, had told her, that you won't be able to fly.

Fleur's eyes had stung with angry tears then. How cruel grand-mère, she had thought. To be only gifted powers that lured men but given no wings to escape them!

Her eyes swam with tears now too, Hermione's explorative caress making her alert to sensations, colours bobbing like sea creatures behind her closed eyes. There was an ache of wings not yet born, a shadow of flight cleaved between her legs.

Hermione held her loosely curled fist, interlocking their fingers together. Her body pressed onto her back, her fingers roaming to where stars were trapped. Fleur gasped, a staccato of sounds, as white-hot sparks fanned out from the base of her spine to rest of her body, little constellations dotted underneath her skin.

It was a surrender in the shipwreck, a body rocking to the rhythm of the wind on the sea.  There was more, more, more to fall. 

Hermione, flushed with triumph, brought her to surface with a kiss. 

Ao3

For more Fleurmione content: The Dying Hearth series by Blue

#hermione granger #fleur delacour #fleurmione #hp sapphics #hermione x fleur #hermione granger x fleur delacour

[avengersnewb]

Black Card

“You’re awake,” a familiar voice says in a good old American accent

Steve blinks, reaching for his eyes to rub them. Colorful dots blend together and separate before shaping up.

He blinks a few more times but the image before his eyes does not really change—that can’t be right. He most probably is not awake.

“How are you, Steve? Feeling any pain? Want me to call the nurse?” comes the voice again, and Steve smiles.

It’s a dream, of course, but oh, what a good dream.

“I’m okay,” he says, words stretching before coming out. “It’s good to see you, Tony.”

The dream Tony smiles back. “You’re still a little out, are you?”

Steve considers him for a long moment, distracted with things Tony’s holding in each hand as he steps closer. “Is the baby here?” Steve asks, a little worried, but not as much as he’d be if he didn’t know he’s dreaming. “Why—” he looks down, reaching to rub his belly from over the blanket before looking back up “—why am I still pregnant if the baby is here?”

Tony looks around. “Oh,” he says, pointing his chin up at the giant rainbow balloon that’s almost hitting the ceiling. “No, no, no baby yet,” he laughs, the corner of his eyes crinkling like the times he is really happy, and Steve’s heart flutters in his chest. “I was told that there is a slight chance that they might have to deliver the baby during the surgery, so I ordered these, and they just got delivered—” he tilts his chin to the left as he places the rainbow-wearing teddy bear on Steve’s bedside table. “Sorry, I didn’t know the sex,” he says, pointing at the writing on the balloon that says It’s a Baby.

Steve takes a long time to watch the balloon sway in the soft flow of the heated air rushing out of the ceiling vent. “It’s okay, I don’t know the sex either. Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Sounds like something you’d do,” Tony says, rustling about, making the balloon move too much so Steve can’t reread the sign for the hundredth time. He’s tying the ribbon to the chair handle when Steve looks up, his jacket pulling as he bends to tighten it up.

God, even his behind is so beautiful.

He turns, and steps closer to Steve, enough that his thighs touch the edge of the bed, enough that Steve can breathe in and take a lungful of his scent, coconut and leather and freshly chopped wood. That’s odd, he thinks, blinking at Tony’s hands gripping the blanket to pull it up to Steve’s chest. You can’t smell things in dreams—

He swallows, throat suddenly parched, vague pain suddenly twisting low in his belly. “Tony?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “That’s my name.”

“You’re—you—actually here?”

“Uh, yes?”

Steve’s heart picks up speed. “What the fuck—what on earth are you doing is Sokovia?”

“Checking up on you?” Tony says, raising his hands in exasperation. “You expected me to ignore the fact that you’re in surgery in fucking Sokovia? What on earth are you doing here?” Read full on AO3

----------

Written based on @sabrecmc 's prompt AND a belated birthday gift for her, I present to you Bad Boyfriend Brock, hurt omega Steve, protective alpha Tony and making up:

Black Card (5k, T)

Stuck in Sokovia and desperate to get urgent medical care for his unborn baby, Steve uses Tony's Amex Black card—the one Tony had refused to take back when they broke up years ago. What Steve does not expect is for Tony to travel half-way across the world and show up at his bedside.

#stony #stevetony #omega steve rogers #bad boyfriend brock #hurt steve roger

[therealsoulking]

Mashle Chapter 150

LIFE COULD BE A DREAM

LIFE COULD BE A DREEEEEAM

DOO-BEE-DOO-DOO-DOO SH-BOOM

Anyways, this chapter is mostly dedicated to how much of a poor little meow-meow Ochoa is, and that he generally doesn’t deserve to die.

I guess he’s going to be coming in clutch next week. Or absolutely eating shit because funi. Either way, bravo Kondo.

By the way, happy belated birthday to Dot Barret, his birthday was yesterday (I was staying off the site)

#mashle #mashle spoilers #manga #manga spoilers #innocent zero #ochoa #meliadoul #mash burnedead #finn ames #lance crown #dot barret #happy birthday #the coasters #sh-boom

[skyward-floored]

@telemna-hyelle HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY HERE’S A FIC 🎉 I tried so hard to finish this on the actual day but I was just too busy 😅

Anyways I was filled with indecision on what to write, so I closed my eyes and picked a zelink, and found myself writing Four/Dot. So here you go, I hope you enjoy :D

Ao3

————————————————————

Thump

Thump

Thump

Four dragged his eyes open at the sound, staring in confusion at the ceiling above his head. The sound that had woken him had blurred with the dream he’d just been having, and was making for a confusing awakening when a giant octorock was not, in fact, trying to stomp him to bits.

Thump

He slowly shook off the dream, rubbing his eyes and reaching for a light, when a sudden snore reminded him where he was, and that he wasn’t alone.

The band of heroes Four had found himself with, more brothers then teammates now, had finally ended up in Four’s own time, after much too long in his opinion. He happily guided them home to his grandfather, who greeted them all with open arms and a place to sleep out of the freezing wind.

They offered to let Four have his room to himself for the night, but the smithy insisted it would be cruel to make them all cram into the tiny living room. So Wind, Legend, and Wild had all settled around on his floor, Four relaxing into the familiar comfort of his own bed.

Until the odd thumping sound had woken him up.

Thump

Four blinked further awake, and carefully slipped out of bed, stepping over a splayed out Wild and nearly tripping on Wind when he realized he was squished next to the champion. But he made it to the window where the thumping was coming from, and pulled it open just in time for a snowball to smack him right in the face.

He barely muffled his yelp as the sting of the ice hit him, and heard a muffled laugh from down in the yard.

Wiping a hand across his face and flicking the snow off, Four poked his head out of the window, looking down at an amused Princess Zelda, holding a small handful of snow.

“Dot!” he whispered, in both annoyance and happiness at seeing her.

“Sorry Link!” she whispered back, eyes shimmering with mirth, “I heard you were back and I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d just come and see you, but I didn’t want to knock and wake everyone up so I thought I’d just throw some snowballs and uh...” she trailed off with a small smile. “Sorry.”

Despite the icy slush beginning to drip down his shirt, Four couldn’t help but smile back, and he waved her off.

“It’s alright. I’m impressed at your aim,” he whispered with a grin, then froze as Wind let out a snore. “...I’ll be down in a second.”

Dot nodded, and Four quietly pulled the window shut, tiptoeing back over the pile of Links on his floor. He eagerly slipped on a tunic, and snuck downstairs and outside, boots crunching in the layer of snow on the ground.

Shivering a little in the cold, he quickly strolled over to the side of the house where his window faced, speeding his steps once Dot came into view. Her face lit up even further, and the two crashed into each other with a tight hug, Dot’s laugh sending warmth all throughout Four’s chest.

“It’s so good to see you,” she said into his shoulder, her voice muffled a little by his tunic. “It’s been more than two months Link, why haven’t you been back sooner?”

He sighed, and let himself enjoy how nice it felt to be hugged by her again. Even in the dead of winter Dot held a constant warmth about her, and he’d missed her hugs. “We don’t really pick where to go Dot,” he replied, and she grumbled, giving him another squeeze.

“I know, I know. But you could at least send a letter once in a while. I had no clue if you were okay!”

Four blinked. “But... I did?” he said confusedly, and Dot pulled back and raised an eyebrow.

“Link, I haven’t heard from you since you left,” she huffed, and Four frowned, feeling rather confused.

“But I sent you a letter a week after I left though, and another as well. I didn’t send any more because I was expecting a reply!” he said in disbelief, and Dot’s annoyance quickly turned to confusion as well.

“Well I didn’t reply because you hadn’t sent me any,” she said with a shake of her head, and Four tapped a thoughtful hand on his chin.

“Did it seriously get lost in the mail?” he groaned, slapping a hand over his forehead. He should’ve known mailing letters across time wouldn’t end well. Dot giggled a bit as she brushed some snow off a log and sat down.

“It seems that way.”

Four shook his head in annoyance as she giggled again, and he settled next to her, glancing up at the sky. It was a cold, clear night, and the stars were bright where the light of the half moon didn’t cover them.

“Well, lost letters aside... I missed you, Link,” Dot said quietly, and Four sighed, guilt pricking at him even though he knew it wasn’t his fault. She’d obviously been rather worried, with good reason.

“I missed you too,” he murmured back, and Dot’s gloved hand suddenly slipped into his. He felt his cheeks warm when she gave it a squeeze, and hoped the pink that was doubtless coloring his face would be blamed on the cold weather rather than his increased heart rate.

“Now, tell me what you’ve been up to!” she said with an eager grin, freckles reminiscent of the stars above their heads. “Where have you been? Have you figured out what’s happening with the monsters? I heard you have companions with you, what are they like?”

Four smiled at her enthusiasm, and launched into an explanation of meeting the other heroes of courage and their various exploits over the past two months, waving his arms at the more exciting parts. At some point Dot’s head ended up on his shoulder while she listened, and Four scooted a little closer to her as he bemoaned Wild’s disregard for his weapons.

She laughed as he described a meal Hyrule had made which had somehow burned straight through the cooking pot they’d been using, and gasped as he described a close call with a moblin, wincing when he mentioned how they’d all been banged up a little.

And once he was finished, Dot in turn told him a bit about what had been happening in Hyrule while he’d been gone, about a few monsters that had been dealt with, and an upcoming festival. He couldn’t help but laugh when she described a rather amusing prank she’d managed to pull on a few of the knights, and he laughed even harder when she told him one of them had been his own father.

But eventually their conversation petered out, and they were left just enjoying each other’s company, looking up at the stars.

Dot’s hair tickled his cheek when she shifted a little, and Four ignored the urge to turn his head and nestle up to it. The familiar flowery scent of her hair tickled his nose, and he couldn’t help but sigh contentedly, her hand still warm in his.

“I ought to get back,” she hummed eventually, and Four gave her a reluctant nod. “My father will have a fit if he finds out I came here by myself.”

Neither of them made any move to get up, and an owl hooted off in the distance.

But then Dot sighed, and started to move. Four mourned the loss of warmth when her head lifted off his shoulder, but he sat up as well, rubbing his neck a little.

“I’ll escort you back,” he said, stretching his back with a small pop. “This is ice wizzrobe weather, I don’t want you to—”

“I’ll be fine Link,” Dot interrupted him, brushing out her skirts as she stood. “You’ve had a tiring journey, I don’t want you to have to walk me all the way to the castle and then hike back.”

“But—”

“I can handle it Link,” Dot said firmly. She focused for a moment, and lit up her palm with a soft light. “Light Force, remember? And if that somehow impossibly fails, I have this,” she continued, holding up a dagger Four recognized as being made by his grandfather. “And that’s only if I actually run into trouble. I made it here perfectly fine, didn’t I?”

Four sighed. “Yes, you did. Just... these black-blooded monsters are twice as dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ll be careful,” she assured him with a nudge, and smiled at him, freckles pale in the moonlight. “Besides, there haven’t been any reports of extra-powerful monsters this close to the castle, they’ve all been further out. Thank you for offering though.”

“No problem,” Four smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Mm-hm.”

They both stood there for a moment in silence, hands still clasped, unwilling to separate just yet after getting to see each other again after so long. Dot met Four’s eyes, and he found himself lost in them for a second, the blue reflecting the landscape around them.

Their breath puffed out into one single cloud as Dot leaned forwards a little, then hesitated for a moment before pressing a light kiss to his cheek, her face turning pink as she pulled back.

“Good night Link,” she said shyly, and Four blinked at her in surprise before returning her smile.

“‘Night Zelda,” he whispered back.

And then she left, giving him one last impossibly bright smile that sent warmth straight up from his head to his toes.

Four watched her go up the path until all he could see of her was the faint glow of her lantern, a soft prick of light in the wintery darkness. And even once that disappeared, he stared after it for a few minutes longer, a smile on his face.

He’d really missed her.

Four let out a little sigh, then turned back to the house, unable to stop the skip in his step as he went back around the corner and inside. He went up the stairs in a distracted daze, and when he slipped back into his room, it took him a moment to realize three faces were staring at him.

And grinning at him.

“...yes?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Uh, sorry I woke you up.“

Wild shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad I got woken up, you two were really cute together, smithy,” he said with a little grin, mischief shining in his eyes. Four’s eyebrow raised higher, and Wind leaned forwards.

“Yeah, I didn’t know you knew your Zelda so well!” he piped up, “you never talk about her like that!”

Four felt his face begin to heat.

Apparently he’d overestimated his brothers’ abilities to sleep through snowballs being chucked at his window.

“Yeah Mr. Holding-Her-Hand-And-Sitting-On-A-Log-Together-For-Like-An-Hour,” Legend added, a mischievous quirk to his mouth. “You didn’t tell us you were a thing, Smithy.”

“We’re friends,” Four replied in an unimpressed voice. “Close friends.”

“Since when do close friends give each other a goodnight kiss?” Wild asked innocently, and Four scowled at him.

“Since when do heroes spy on their brother who is generously letting him sleep in his room?” he snipped back, meeting each of their gazes individually. “Which could change, by the way. There’s a nice pile of snow outside with your names on it if you’d prefer.”

That shut the three meddlers up, but they continued to grin at Four as he got back into bed.

“Good night!” he said pointedly when a few snickers persisted, and his roommates finally settled back down, though he saw their grins had persisted.

Four rolled his eyes as he willed the color in his face to die down, listening to the others fall back asleep. But a smile pulled at his lips as he thought back to his conversation with Dot, and he brushed a hand over his cheek, the skin still pleasantly warm.

It was good to be home.

#short but sweet #I told you it was almost finished XD #I hope you enjoy! <3 #telemna hyelle my beloved #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu four #lu dot #four/dot #lu fic #writing from the floor #zelink #basically

[sequinsmile-x]

New Dawn

It was everything Emily had waited 9 months for.

-x-

A little belated birthday present for @ssamorganhotchner. Thank you for being an amazing friend, for not having a filter AT ALL and for loving my cat just as much as I do <3

I hope you enjoy this, the gratuitous mentions of Aaron's arms is just for you!

This whole thing is just a little bit ridiculous, and the fluff I think we all deserve!

-x-

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy/labour but nothing explicit

Words: 1.9k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily groans slightly as she shifts in bed, trying to get as comfortable as she can, her body sore in ways she didn’t know it could be. 

She looks over at her husband and smiles, overwhelmed by the sight of him sitting in the chair next to their hospital bed with their newborn baby in his arms. Aurora looks tiny in comparison to him, a dot of a thing that he could hold with one hand, his watch looking absurdly large next to their daughter. 

She’d always loved his arms, fascinated by them long before she should have been. Derek had caught her once. He’d spotted her staring at Aaron as he had his sleeves rolled up on a particularly hot day, her focus on the muscles that rippled under his skin instead of the theory they were all discussing. Derek still made fun of her for it even now, a sly smile on his face as he teased her for clearly being in love with their boss years before either she or Aaron did anything about it. 

Aurora whines. Her limbs move in small, sharp movements as she shifts in her father’s arms, still adjusting to her new place in the outside world. Aaron stands and hands her over without comment, not missing the relieved look on his wife’s face as he eases their newborn back into her arms. Emily winces again and Aaron sits on the edge of her bed, gently squeezing her thigh. 

“Are you ok?” 

He hated seeing her in pain, even if it was for something incredible like this. He’d never tell her how hard her labour had been to watch. Although he was sure she would have seen the unshed tears in his eyes as she tightly held his hand, crying out as contractions rolled through her body. He had never felt relief like it when she asked for an epidural, happy to let her lay against him as she slept in between being examined by nurses, insistent that he was more comfortable than her hospital bed.

“I’m ok,” she replies, smiling at him as she settles down into the bed a little more, adjusting Aurora against her chest. “Sore,” she sees worry flash across his face and she rolls her eyes lovingly at him, “Honey, I gave birth 3 hours ago, I’m going to be in pain for a little while.” 

He nods, leaning in to kiss her forehead, “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“You could go get me some food,” she says, her eyes sparkling up at him, “I’m so hungry.” 

He knows exactly what she means without any further prodding. She’d been militant during her pregnancy. Following the rules set by both the FBI and her doctor in a way he’d never known her to, including making sure she didn’t eat anything she shouldn’t. They’d waited for this pregnancy. Hoped for it longer than they thought they’d have to, and she’d told him one night, wrapped up in his arms in the safety of their bedroom, that she was going to do everything she could to protect their unborn child. Which apparently included not eating several types of food she usually enjoyed. 

Towards the end of her pregnancy, he watched as it started to get to her. Her irritation clear if someone on the team ordered sushi in front of her, or if he dared to buy soft cheese from the grocery store. In the end, when she was about 8 months pregnant, he’d promised her he’d get her whatever she wanted as soon as their daughter was born, his hand pressed into her bump as she cried over having to have her steak well done. 

Emily had immediately told him it was sushi she’d want, a look on her face that he remembered from their wedding day at the mere thought of eating it. He tried not to think too hard about it, that the thought of eating a California roll made her eyes shine in the same way they had when they promised each other forever. He’d offered to get her sushi without fish in it but she’d refused, her eyebrows furrowed at him at the mere suggestion. 

He doesn’t want to leave her side, doesn’t want his daughter to leave his sight for the first time since she’d been born, but he knew he could never deny Emily anything. He never had been able to, but now it felt even more impossible after what she’d done for them today. 

“You really want me to go?” He asks, his hand running through her hair, and she nods, tearing her eyes away from the baby for a moment.

“Yes, it shouldn’t take you long, there's a sushi place just down the street,” she says quietly, looking back at Aurora, smiling widely at the sight of her daughter. She runs a finger over the soft dark hair on the baby’s head, endlessly fascinated by the way it felt against her skin. 

“How do you know that?” Aaron asks, dropping a kiss on the top of his wife’s head, and doing the same on his daughters before he stands. 

“It’s half the reason I chose this hospital to have her in.”

His eyebrows crease at that, “And because of their high approval rates and excellent facilities here, right?” 

“Right,” she agrees, looking up at him, smirking as she shrugs. A gentle rise of her shoulder doesn’t disturb the tiny newborn who was now fast asleep in her arms. “And also the sushi thing.” 

___

Aaron doesn’t miss how the nurse at the front desk smiles knowingly at him as he walks back into the hospital with a bag with the sushi resturant’s logo on it. He walks quickly towards Emily’s room, wanting nothing more than to be reunited with her and their baby, missing them in a way that felt ridiculous in the less than 30 minutes he’d been gone.

He walks into her room, and the sight of his wife and daughter together is enough to make his heart seize in his chest. Emily was nursing Aurora, softly talking to her as she holds her in place. Emily looks up at him briefly and smiles before looking back down at the baby.

“Look Rory, Daddy’s back with Mommy’s food,” she says quietly, “We missed Daddy, huh?” 

“I missed you both too,” he says, walking across the room, “I didn’t know what to get you,” he says, placing the bag of food down on the table over her bed, “So I mentioned to the guy behind the counter that you’d just given birth, and he gave me ‘the usual,’” he jokes, sitting down next to her leaning in to kiss her, “Apparently a lot of his business comes from this hospital and it’s all things that are safe for you to eat whilst breastfeeding,” he doesn’t miss how she winces, her face scrunching up in pain, “Are you-”

“I’m fine,” she says cutting over his question and half smiling at him through a wince, “It just hurts and…feels really fucking weird.” 

He leans in and kisses her shoulder, bare from where her gown was down so Aurora could eat, before moving to her cheek. 

“It will get better sweetheart, and if it doesn’t there are other options.” he assures her and she smiles tightly.

“I know, I read the same books as you,” she replies, her eyes flitting back and forth between the bag of food and their daughter, her hands twitching as she holds Aurora in place, clearly not quite yet confident enough to hold her in place with one arm whilst she fed her, both hands secure under her. He knows it will come, that she’d recognise the instincts in herself that he saw so clearly. 

He smiles as he pulls the tray of food out of the bag and gets out some chopsticks. He takes the lid off of the tray and picks up one of the rolls, holding it out to her. She tilts her head slightly at him, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. 

“Come on, what is it they say?” He says, his smile widening, “You should eat when the baby eats.” 

“I think thats about sleeping, honey,” she replies, biting her lower lip before she nods, leaning in to eat the food he’d offered to her. She throws her head back a little as she eats, moaning around the food, “God,” she says, “I love you.” 

“Are you talking to me or the sushi?” He jokes, his eyebrow raised as he gets another piece of sushi between the chopsticks, holding it out ready for her. 

She smirks at him, her eyebrow raised, “I can love two things.” 

She leans in and eats the next piece before he can reply, having a similar reaction again, “This actually might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” she looks down as Aurora detaches from her, and she lifts her, resting her against her shoulder as she re-adjusts her gown, “Totally worth the wait,” she says, gently rubbing the baby’s back, “In more ways than one.” 

He smiles at her, somehow more in love with her at this moment than he ever had been before, something he hadn’t thought was even possible. 

“I love you,” he says, and she beams at him. He leans in to kiss her, a soft thing he stamps against her lips to try and express everything he’d never been good at expressing before her. Something about the safety of her smile, the love and empathy she surrounded him in, enough to pull it out of him. Everything he’d kept hidden for years was exposed to her and her alone. 

“I love you too,” she replies, leaning in to kiss him again. The movement dislodges some of the sushi, and it lands on her, some of the rice falling onto Aurora’s head, standing out against her dark hair. Emily looks at him, her eyebrows creased together, “Aaron, stop dropping my sushi on my baby.” 

He suppresses a smile at the tone of her voice, the way she makes it sound like he’d thrown the whole tray all over the two of them as she picks the one grain of rice that had fallen onto their daughters head out of her hair. He knows it wasn’t worth getting caught laughing at her, and he nods, picking up the rest of the food he’d dropped. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” he says, passing her another piece of food that she gratefully takes. She smiles around the sushi as Aurora burps against her, and Aaron doesn’t think she’s ever looked more beautiful. He stands up and gets his phone out of his pocket, taking a step backwards as he opens the camera, “Em, look at me.”

She looks up at him from the baby and frowns, “What are you doing?” She asks around the food in her mouth, “If you take a photo of me right now I’ll kill you.” 

He doesn’t mention that her legs aren’t still fully working after the epidural, and that she couldn’t stand without his assistance right now if she tried, he simply smiles at her. 

“Come on, Em,” he says, “One day we’ll tell Rory that you ate sushi just hours after she was born and we’ll be able to show her.” 

She rolls her eyes at him and swallows her food, “Fine, but if you send Penelope this photo I will have my revenge.” 

His smile gets impossibly wider as she adjusts Aurora so he can see her face, already so much like her mother. 

“I wouldn’t dare.” 

-x-

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @sneetchestoo, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger

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#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron x emily #hotch x prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction

[futchgunk]

baTTervvitchcraft diary 01:

happy belated birthday to me. I imagined a Swalot cookie jar a while back and my best friend made it out of clay. It took 3 tries to come out properly, apparently its ghost (failed attempt) haunts the studio that killed it. How Romantic.

Swalot was one of my favorite pokemon playing gen 3 growing up and seeing it come back in scarlet and violet meant i got to play with it again!! I am in love with its disruption and utility that it provides in the game. It has access to Yawn and Clear Smog which are really strong counter sweep measures, its a mono poison type which is so cute, and its stat pool is more hp oriented yet base stat total is lower than whats considered metagame. We love discovering sleeper picks. when i used it for my Reg B team i didnt know a lot about metakitbuilding so i felt that i didnt know what I needed to pressure with a pokemon that wasn't oriented around dealing damage. (What are other ludic priorities in a game of pokemon that a pokemon can command agency over?) If i had to build it as a team staple it would look like:

Swalot Psn [Dark]

252Def/80HP/80Atk/80SpD/12Spe*

Ability: Sticky Hold @ Black Sludge

-Knock Off (anti item)

-Iron Defense (Defense++ (damage mitigation)->Helping Hand (ally dmg +50% this turn)

-Body Press (Defense = Damage attack) -> Pain Split (average HP

-Thunder Wave/Yawn/Toxic**

*investing in speed vs hp would be a transludic approach because if swalot can outspeed the pokemon that do supereffective damage to it, it can command agency via its disruptive utility (status move, item removal) and contributed to the game state.

**the status utility is relative to the teams needs. Twave for the most general form of control (speed), Yawn for the fastest form of control by means of egress/ingress 50/50; 1 turn of assured inaction (sleep ludic condition), or Toxic as the slowest form of control (time on field aka HP creep aka DoT)

THE RECIPE

Vegan Chocolate Chip Cookies [Transexual] [Gothic] [Divine]

1 C. Flour

1/3 C. dairy free chocolate chips

1/3 C. walnuts

1/4 C. sugar

1/4 C. brown sugar

3 T. milk sub (oat milk)

2 T. vegetable oil*

2 T. melted butter*

1/2 tsp baking powder**

1/4 tsp salt

1/4 tsp vanilla extract

a good cry into the batter***

*u can use 4 T of either, i adjusted bc my dough was really dry when i was mixing it

**the recipe said baking soda, i used baking powder because i was grieving when i made these cookies

***by will of my Lich or the universe, rabbits by nursejoy came on while i was baking this so i had an emotional breakdown. Technically this adds a bit more salt and moisture to the dough so its like an organic enhancer.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease baking sheet(s)

Combine the drys (flour, sugars, baking soda/powder, salt, chocolate chips, walnuts)

Add the wets (nondairy milk, oil, melted butter, vanilla extract

Mix until dough forms and then scoop out onto greased baking sheet

Bake at 325 for 11 mins.

Spellcasting underneath the cut!! (edit: the cookies did come out a bit salty)

what happens when i am given freely but never returned?

SARNESAIAJP

if you can counter my spell, then you can ask for a prize!!

#batterwitchcraft #cryptomancy #radical transgender hedonism #transludic

[fatuismooches]

SMOOOCHES!!! Hiii darling! ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ꒱ა

This isn’t a story but really just me coming on here to talk so I hope you don’t mind! I’m sorry if it’s ever a bother or disturbs you! But I finally finished with all my exploration~! Well, I actually finished on the 10th of July (aka this month) BUT I felt a little shame to just come on here and say that I had finished I was too embarrassed;; but how has everything been? I hope you’re staying fresh in this blazing summer (it’s literally like 115° every single day here it’s unbearable for me and my dog) and also making the most out of it! I’m dreading going back to school in less than a month I’m not ready!!! (Leaks mentioned: ALSO HAVE YOU HEARD OF A SUPPOSED NEW DOTTORE SOUNDTRACK? It sounds so good AND IT MAY BE A CUTSCENE kinda like Kazuha’s friend or Makoto’s in the Archon Quests! I’m really hoping we get more lore on our boo boo Dottore he’s just so interesting!!) I also just recently read a VERY lengthy character analysis on him and oh mygskkd. It really helped me get to understand Dottore as a character and how it disapproves of many misconceptions of himself. (Like being a sadist for ex.) if you ever want the link I can send it since it was on tt. And the day I’m writing this it’s Childe’s birthday, which ironically enough my mom also shared a birthday with him LMAO. (She’s only aware of this bc of how much I dawn over the chars 😭) and to answer your question from one of the recent brainrots I had made “who are you saving up for” I’m actually saving up for Zhongli cons! He’s at C0 rn but in hoping to at least get C2 or C3, but I also won’t be spending my almost 400 wishes on him since I really want a lot of the Fontaine characters, and I’m still hoping for Dottore to become playable soon 😭 (this is me trying to cope) but I hope you have a wonderful day and week!! But before I end this off, can we agree the Dottore pictured in Nahida’s cute story with Wanderer IS ADORABLE?? Like i sometimes just wanna write about the little creature because it’s so cute. Is he ugly? A little but he’s ugly in the cute way!!! I swear I would just want to hug him to sleep. (Many ideas with fragile reader come to mind now LMAO) but anyways !!! I give you so many chu chus n cuddles n a lot of love!! Make sure you’re staying healthy and drinking water in this scorching heat. I give u so many kisses your heart explodes!!! ><

- from your boo boo bear 🎐 anon!! ૮ ྀི◞͈ ˔ ◟͈ ྀིა

🎐 ANON!!! I MISSED YOU AHHH!!!!

It's more than okay i love talking to you!!! And OMF I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!! I know it was such a grind and probably a bit exhausting at times but I'm so proud of you 😌💖 Giving you lots of kithes and hugs!! Mwahhhh!!

115 DEGREES??? HOLY- I thought it was hot where I live 😭 I'm barely surviving like every other summer but omg I'm so sorry 😭 And you have a dog?? How cute! What type of dog do you have, if i may ask?🥰 Though i have been unproductive all summer unfortunately, the heat makes me not want to do anything haha

AND YESSSS IVE SEEN THE LEAKED OST MY EYES POPPED OPEN AT THE POSSIBLE DOTTORE APPEARANCE 👁 IM SO EXCITED I WANT HIM IN FONTAINE BADLY!! Also i think I've read the same character analysis on tiktok like you, was it called "Sadist or Scientist" and had many many slides? With the character and design analysis? If yes i too read it and it was so good! I love seeing analysis on him especially since there are not much crumbs on him. Oh and happy belated birthday to your mom! I hope you had fun with her!💖

Omg almost 400 wishes??? I havent had that much since the time I've saved for Wanderer 👏 I really hope you get lots of cons for him! I also love Zhongli sm but that man has avoided me on all three banners. First banner i didn't have enough primos and missed him, second banner i lost to Qiqi, third banner i lost to Jean lol. I forgot he is coming so i will try to get him again for the fourth time 🤣 Manifesting hard for you 💖🙏 (Dw I'm also coping on playable Dot😭😭)

AND YESSS OMG I LOVE THE LIL STRANGE DOT CREATURE SO MUCH. I need someone to make a good quality plushie of that creature so i can cuddle it 🥺 HYV was probably intending to make the creature look unsettling, but nah, i wholly think it's adorable. I would hold its little hand. (Always ready to listen to your fragile reader ideas tho 😌🤞)

Hehe I'm giving you lots of more cuddles and kisses!! 🫂 I hope you're staying hydrated as well!! We shall get through this heat together 💪 Smooch smooch !! <33

#smooches talks #🎐 anon #one day... one day there will be a genshin character with the same bday as me #omg but yea i freaking despise summer ugh #im a cold weather girlie 💖 #SMOOCHING U HARD 🎐 ANON ILYYSMMM