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keyotos · 8 months

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"you know, if being cute was a crime, you'd be guilty as charged!"

you have been at this for hours (it has only been a few minutes) now. wriothesley, who has been idly sipping his tea with a straight face, has not yet wavered at your terrible pick-up lines.

"that one was bad," he sips. you roll your eyes.

you clear your throat, "if fine was a felony, you'd be on death row," you give wriothesley an exaggerated wink.

he gives you a disconcerted look.

you pout, "okay, c'mon! that one was good!"

wriothesley puts his teacup on the table and moves his chair closer to yours, "i don't think death row should be associated with romance," he shakes his head, "that may have been the worse one today."

"i think that was, 'are you a crime? because i'll do you anyday!'" you laugh and grab wriothesley's teacup, taking a drink out of it so ordinarily.

wriothesley basks in this. tonight is a quiet night: the inmates aren't awake, sigewinne has clocked out for the day, and you are here. it's strange how you are one of the loudest people wriothesley knows of, yet you make the world sound so quiet when you're around. whatever your magic is, wriothesley isn't opposed to it.

everything about this scene reads domesticity, even though the two of you have been together for a couple of months. spending late nights together, sleeping in the same bed, drinking out of the same teacup? if someone had told wriothesley a few months ago that he would be doing these things (nevertheless with you), he would have called them mad. but here he is, sitting in his office doing nothing but drinking tea, while hearing you recite horrible pick-up lines.

"wouldn't it be the perfect crime if i stole your heart and you stole mine?" you push the teacup towards you boyfriend.

wriothesley winces, "maybe that was the worse one today."

"what?! i thought that one wasn't bad."

your boyfriend looks to the side, "it was really cheesy."

"clearly, you missed the point of pick-up lines," you lay your head down on the desk, "i'd like to see you come up with one."

wriothesley chuckles. you relish in the fact that you are one of the only people that have ever heard him laugh. it's an unexpected sound, and it always comes out more lighter than most people would think. but it's endearing, just like him; you always think that a light chortle from him would paint your dark skies to a clear blue.

"i'm saving myself from the embarrassment," wriothesley sips out of the teacup, on the same side you drank of, you might add.

"boring," you draw out the syllables of the word.

"what? did you run out of lines?" wriothesley teased you, taking another drink out of the teacup to hide his smile. he watched as your face morphed into a light grimace.

"i did not, actually," you raise your head off the desk, "in fact, i'm thinking of one right now."

"oh no..." wriothesley shivers. you shoot him a petulant look. he backs down.

when you think, you have this habit of sticking your tongue out of your lips, just ever-so slightly. your eyebrows crease just a little bit, not enough to be furrowed, but enough to not be at resting position. your eyes don't narrow, they widen. wriothesley thinks that if someone caught you like this on a kamara, your photos would go down in history.

finally, after what felt like years (it was one minute), you look back up at him. this time, however, your eyes are laced with uncertainty rather than flirtatiousness.

"if being in love is illegal, would you be my partner in crime?"

love. you guys haven't talked about it yet.

was that why your eyes were so full of nervousness? did you think he didn't love you back? if that was the case, then it'd be preposterous, for how can anyone look at you and not fall in love? although, wriothesley supposes that it's a good thing, because that means you're his to have.

one side of his brain is in doubt. it's just a joke, it says, they're not being truthful, it's just a pick-up line. but his heart says otherwise. if they were joking, then why do their eyes look like that? why are they fidgeting with their fingers? why are they gently tapping their foot on the ground?

love has never been a consideration for wriothesley. throughout his life, it has been abandonment and independence. there's only been room for one, not two. but you: you reconstructed his entire mind. so now, when he thinks about drinking tea, he doesn't drink alone anymore. when he's staying late to do paperwork, he doesn't have to be alone while doing so. when there was one, there is now two.

oh.

oh shit. your confession of love came from a pick-up line. and it actually worked on him, because he loves you back. he loves you back so much. wriothesley loves you back with his heart, his mind, his body, and possibly his soul. and he realized the extent of his love through a pick-up line. from you out of all people.

though, even though he's in love with you, he's not letting you get the satisfaction of your line working.

"i don't know. according to the my close friend, the duke of meropide, he says it's illegal to participate in criminal activities." wriothesley's tone is soft. his eyes are full of endearment. your eyebrows stop crinkling, and your eyes revert back to normal. you know. you know.

you give into an easy smile, "don't you think your friend, the duke, is a little too compliant to the law?"

"sorry, he's not changing his ways. but," wriothesley gets out of his chair and strides towards you. his hand meet your jawline, and his thumb traces the corner of your lip that's turned downwards due to your pout. with his thumb, he guides it upward, making it so you were smiling. he laughs slightly⎯twice tonight, which is something he did not expect to do⎯and moves his thumb to lightly caress your bottom lip.

he uses his hand to tilt your head up towards him. you know what's coming, and you excitedly lean in closer. wriothesley tilts his head down to meet your lips, carefully tracing every angle of your jaw as he does so. you meet him halfway, closing the gap between you two almost immediately. wriothesley can feel you happily grin into the kiss. you grab his shirt collar and pull him closer into you, and he obliges with no hesitation.

you are the first one to pull away, and it takes all of wriothesley's willpower to stop himself from pulling you back in.

"but?" you ask, chest heaving up and down. wriothesley, the bastard, is still breathing normally. "does the duke of meropide have any contentions?"

wriothesley shakes his head, "i think he could make some exceptions," he whispers, grinning while doing so.

he doesn't miss the beaming glow of your smile as leans in once more. and then, he knows that he'll be your partner in crime for a long time.

#tana writes (∗´ ᨔ `∗)#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #they r so sweet nothing by tswift coded #THIS WAS THE CUTEST THING I EVER WROTE

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theonewiththefanfics · 6 months

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Seal It With a Kiss (one-shot)

Synopsys: After a looting session goes wrong, Astarion and Reader have to face the music and confront their feelings. Whatever they might be.

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, but nothing explicit

Word count: 3234

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

The light was too bright. And the ground was too hard. And the pillow too tough and lumpy. And why did Y/N feel so hot when it was literally snowing? And, actually, when had it started snowing? From bright blue skies, might she add?

Slowly, haziness dissipated from her eyes, and the world around came into sharp, painful focus. The light was too bright because half of her surroundings were on literal fire. The ground was too hard because she was half on rubble that once was a palace roof, and the tough, lumpy pillow was a rock her head had smashed against, while the snow was ashes flowing down, covering everything, including her, in a grey layer of soot, the sky peeking in from the hole above.

Although her sight was clearing, a sharp ringing pierced her ears. Or was it shouting?

A shadow crossed the sky, and above her, she could see their resident vampiric elf’s mouth moving.

“ – were you thinking?!” Finally, her ears started to clear as well. “You absolute imbecile! Why would you do that?!”

Y/N just groaned in response, as her memories came back in quick flashes. Everyone was arguing about where they should look for another magical artefact, Astarion shooting down what Gale had proposed, Wyll trying to make a sensible plan while Lae’Zel interrupted Shadowheart at any given moment. A deep rumble from the depths of the abandoned palace they were in silenced them all, Karlach throwing them a worried expression. And then the whole building exploded.

On instinct, Y/N had pushed Astarion as far away as she could before the ceiling came crashing down on top of her. It was nothing short of a miracle, she had managed to survive. Bruised, battered, no doubt with broken bones, but alive nonetheless. Maybe she’d have to thank a goddess or two. That was if Astarion didn’t rip her to pieces beforehand with how furious he looked.

Slowly Y/N tried to lift herself onto her forearms, and for all his admonishments, Astarion was quick to crouch down and help her, putting his arms under her pits and letting her rest against his chest.

“Oh dear,” she mumbled, noticing a large bannister lying across her leg. “That’s not good.”

“Not good?!” Astarion practically shrieked, his hands tightening around her ribs. “How hard did you hit your fucking head? This is so beyond not good I can’t even think of a level!”

Y/N winced at his tone. “Can you stop shouting, please? Gods, my head is splitting.”

“Oh, is it now? It would be quite the fucking miracle if it wasn’t, seeing as a whole fucking palace just toppled on you!”

“Quit being so dramatic and help get that thing off me! Where’re the rest?”

“Frankly, I don’t fucking care right now!” Astarion gently laid Y/N back down and went to the large boulder.

His arms strained as he lifted the piece of the pillar, her eyes widening at the display of strength.

She sometimes forgot how strong Astarion actually was, how easily he could snap her neck with just a twist of his hands if he so wished while Y/N allowed him to drink from her. But he was always gentle instead, with how he held her nape, fingers soothingly pressing into her scalp and knuckles brushing against her collarbones once he was done in a sweet gesture of thanks.

As quickly as she could, Y/N scooted from under the rubble, Astarion dropping the boulder back unceremoniously, and he was back by her side in a second, an arm wrapping around her waist, so she could lean on him.

“We have to find the others,” Y/N hissed as she stood. Her whole body screamed in pain, but they had to get out of the now-ruined palace, lest another explosion happen.

“They can find their own way out,” Astarion grunted, as he led them towards the exit.

“Astarion!”

“No!” He snapped his head to look at Y/N, and his scarlet eyes held such a desperate gaze in them, that she pinched her lips shut. “I will knock you out if I have to. I am not letting you get hurt again.”

“Astarion, they’re our friends,” Y/N’s voice was gentle. “We have to help them if we can.”

For a moment, Astarion truly looked like he might just throw her over his shoulder and march out of the place. But then he sighed, hanging his head in defeat before looking at her with pain distorting his features. “Why do you always have to be so good?”

Something tugged at her heart. That expression on his face, as if it physically put him in agony to lead them around the ruined palace in search of their companions, as he flinched and tightened his hold on her whenever something crackled, ready to throw his own body atop hers, in case something happened. It wasn’t selfishness, not one bit. Something deeper lay beneath Astarion’s reluctance.

It took them a while to find their party, but luckily no one was injured, and Y/N was the worst one off. Shadowheart was by her side in an instant, giving her a healing potion.

“Should keep you set until we get back to camp.” She patted her shoulder. “I’ll heal you fully once we’re out of immediate danger.”

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled at the cleric.

She was just about to ask Astarion whether he was alright, but the vampire had already detached himself and was glaring at the ground, arms crossed over his chest ten feet away from her.

Y/N couldn’t deny – it stung. He’d been so worried just a few moments ago, yet now he couldn’t even look at her?

Her feet worked on their own accord, moving in his direction, but the way he turned his back to her, told her all she needed to know – he didn’t want to talk.

Pain shot through her heart, and it was definitely not because of the explosion, but Y/N respected his privacy, so she didn’t approach him any further, even though they always, always, walked next to one another.

“We should head back,” she spoke up, eyes remaining on Astarion’s taut back. “Maybe get some rest as well. We still have tomorrow anyway to search this place.”

When Astarion left the palace without even waiting to see if anyone was following, Y/N could do nothing but sigh and depart as well.

The walk to where they’d set up their camp was uncharacteristically quiet, especially from the pale elf’s side. He’d usually fill their travels with mindless talk and sarcastic quips, but this time around, he hung towards the back of their group and was as mum as a grave. He didn’t even comment on whatever Gale was saying, which made Y/N all the more uneasy.

She couldn’t wrap her mind around why he’d become so distant all of a sudden. What’d happened at the palace was nothing unusual. They risked their lives on the daily, saving others and themselves, so why in the world was Astarion so pissed about this, she had no clue.

Karlach leaned to the side, watching as the vampire entered his tent, closing the laces immediately. “Fangs is quite in a bad mood. Anything we should know about, soldier?”

Y/N huffed. “Probably broke a nail or something. In any case – nothing important enough to be acting the way he is.”

“Maybe I should go and – “

She put a palm on Karlach’s shoulder, stopping her, and giving her friend a wry smile. “I’ll talk to him. Better he’s angry at me and only me, not someone else as well. Apparently, I’ve pissed him off as is.”

“You sure?” the tiefling asked.

“Yeah.” Y/N nodded. “I think we need to have a talk anyway.”

With a “good luck” from Karlach, she sighed and steeled herself against whatever the vampire would throw her way. She unlaced the ties and lifted the flap to the side. With crossed arms, she entered Astarion’s tent, only to be greeted by his back as he stubbornly kept looking at a book in his hands, not even acknowledging her.

“Are you seriously pouting right now?” Y/N asked after a minute of silence.

“I’m not pouting, I’m brooding. There’s a difference.”

“Well, does brooding involve giving the silent treatment, or can we talk?”

Astarion threw a withering gaze over his shoulder. “What is there you want to talk about? Unless it’s an apology, I don’t want to hear it.”

Y/N let out an exasperated huff. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I won’t apologise for saving your life.”

“By putting your own life in danger?!” Astarion spun around, throwing the tome he’d been holding onto his bedroll.

“Comes with the territory.” She shrugged. “You should know how it is.”

“Letting a whole building collapse on top of you is very different to knocking a blade out of the way!”

“Why are you so angry with me?” Y/N raised her voice, matching Astarion’s furious tone. “I saved your life!

“I didn’t ask for you to!”

She let out a disbelieving scoff. “Well, sucks to be you then! Because I was not just going to let you get crushed underneath all that rubble! Your life is just as important as everyone else’s!”

“Not to me! Not when it comes to you!”

Now that shut her up completely, her lips pinched in a thin line, eyes wide in shock. She and Astarion were friends, at least Y/N would've liked to think so. She most definitely had developed deeper feelings than that, but would only admit to it over her own dead body. The thought of Astarion’s rejection made her want to crumple into a small heap, but his reaction put thoughts in her head that maybe, just maybe, her feelings weren’t one-sided.

“What do you suppose I would do if you – if – if,” he stumbled on his words. “If I had to go on without you? If you were no longer with us… with me…”

“Astarion…”

“Do you understand how it felt to see you go down?” He sighed, hanging his head. “When I saw the roof caving in and then felt you push me away before you vanished beneath rubble and dust and ash… I’ve never been more terrified in all of my life, two hundred years of which were spent under the rule of an absolute sadist, where horrors awaited around every corner.”

His eyes bore nothing but pain and despair he’d felt in that moment. “I heard everyone else screaming - Shadowheart calling out, Wyll and Karlach making sure Gale and Lae’Zel were alright but nothing… not a single whisper from your voice. You tell me I’m pouting, but all I can see when I close my eyes is you… how you would look… dead. Your eyes closed forever, your blood spilling out of your body and I… I have to stand and watch as I am unable to save you.

“But I’m alright.” Y/N stepped up to him, taking one of his palms in hers, and squeezing it. “Astarion, I’m alive, and I’m fine.”

“But you almost weren’t!” he hissed, pulling her closer, bringing their clasped hands to rest against his chest. “And all I would have been left to do was wait for the dust to settle and dig out your broken body. You would have condemned me to eternity without you… I just almost lost the person I love... and that fear is something I never wish to experience again.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat at such an honest confession. “I umm I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” Friendship was one thing, but love? That threw her completely off balance.

“Feel? Felt? What does it matter anymore? Clearly, it’s not like it’s reciprocated.” He scoffed, back the mask of bravado and not caring, but Y/N wasn’t having any of it.

“It matters to me.” Her brows furrowed. “It matters a great deal to me. Why do you think I did what I did, exactly? Because it’s fun? Because I enjoy blocks of buildings dropping down on me? Because it’s such an absolute delight to realise - if I don’t push you out of the way, you will be in direct line of fire, and I might lose you?”

Astarion’s mouth opened and closed. “I didn’t – I –“

“No!” Y/N pointed an accusatory finger at him. Now she was angry. “You don’t get to play the "I'm in love with you" card and be angry with me. Not if you dare tell me how I feel without asking first!”

“You...” He shook his head, a crease to his brow. “You never indicated you held anything more than… friendly affections towards me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Yes, because I let everyone in this party use me as their personal snack each night. I’d say that should’ve been your first clue.”

“I’d say you’re a full-course meal, my darling, but I understand the sentiment.” And though back was his usual air of sarcasm, a deep vulnerability could be seen shining in his crimson eyes as he weaved a gentle hand to wrap around the small of her waist, brushing underneath her sleep tunic to rest against her skin.

Cold met warm, and Y/N gasped as a shiver ran down her spine. His slender fingers dug into her back as he pulled Y/N closer, their breaths mingling, and if they only moved just a couple of centimetres, lips would touch.

“I just – I cannot stand and watch you throw your life away for someone like me. The thought of your brightness being extinguished because of it… I couldn’t bear it.”

Y/N tilted her head to the side. “Someone like who exactly? Someone who I’ve grown to look at as my dearest confidant? Someone who I know will always tell me the truth and be there if I cannot handle it? Or someone who so deftly has stolen my heart, he cannot even comprehend it’s been his the whole time? Besides, even if it wasn’t reciprocated...” She played with the string of his shirt, “you can’t tell me to be more careful, to not save you when you do the exact same thing.”

“How can I not?” Astarion’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, and for once, he seemed to want the moment to reflect what truly lay in his soul. “You make my heart beat on its own. If I had to give up walking in the sun for the rest of my life, I would. As long as it meant you were safe and happy. I’d even gladly go back to Cazador if you were on the line. Without a second to spare.”

“Don’t you dare fucking say that!"

“But it’s true.”

“Not if I can help it,” Y/N grumbled, tightening her hold on his shirt by his hips, pulling him closer like she had to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. “He’s not ever going to get near you. I’ll level the whole of Baldur’s Gate if I have to.”

“And I am being honest when I say, if I had to choose between you being unhurt or me being imprisoned, being used as I was, I would always put you first.”

Y/N was on the verge of tears. “You listen to me you pompous blood-sucking elf – you will do no such thing. Whatever comes, we both will get through it. And Cazador will have his head ripped from his shoulders, but not before I gouge his eyes out, and do every single vile thing he did to you back onto him. I will skin him alive and then throw him in a tomb with nothing but cockroaches. Let him drink his own blood and see how he likes it.” She shuddered, taking in a deep breath. “Your life is not worth less than mine. Don’t you ever dare think that way.”

A watery chuckle escaped Astarion, and his eyes brimmed with silvery tears. “Can I kiss you?” He didn’t dare lift his gaze, focusing on their intertwined fingers, resting against where his heart no doubt would have been rattling a crazy rhythm if it still beat.

“If you want to.” Y/N’s reply was as quiet as his question had been, but there was no teasing in her tone.

His eyes flashed for a second, but she didn’t get a full grasp on what it was she saw. Maybe surprise. Maybe gratitude? She couldn’t tell really, all she knew was that the emotion caused a pang to ring to her very core. She’d kill Cazador with her own bloody hands.

“I want it.” He nodded. “More than anything.”

“More than my blood? That first night you almost drained me dry,” Y/N’s words, though true, held no malice, only gentle teasing.

“And how do you know that first time I wasn’t trying to wake up the sleeping princess with a magical true love’s kiss? The feeding just ended up being a bonus.” He brushed her nose with his, and couldn’t help the way his own lips turned up as Y/N smiled.

“Well, this sleeping princess would’ve punched you in the nose, had you awoken her for such silly things. Besides, you did miss my lips.”

Astarion chuckled, relishing the way her body pressed against his. “But I am allowed to awaken you to drink from you?”

“Well...” She nudged his nose with hers now. “Seeing as you become absolutely unbearable when hungry, I think for my own peace and everyone else’s, that does count as a vital reason to rouse me."

Gentle hands cupped her cheeks. “Allow me to demonstrate then how vital a kiss can be to one’s survival.”

And then their lips met.

She’d never admit it out loud, for his ego would surely grow larger than it already was, but it did feel like a magical kiss of life. Her whole body sang as his fingers slid against the nape of her neck, pulling her closer, almost like Astarion was afraid she’d pull back, but she could never. Not when he slipped his tongue past her lips, and her knees almost crumbled.

Y/N had to tighten her hold on his waist to not completely lose it, and she could feel the smirk growing on the vampire’s face, as he realised just how incapacitated his kiss had made her. He nipped at the bottom of her lip and relished in the small whimper he got to devour.

After what felt like ages, they pulled back, panting, but not going too far as Astarion rested his forehead against hers.

Y/N smiled. “True love’s kiss you say?”

“It feels like it,” he mumbled, allowing himself to indulge in the tender touch of her fingers skimming up and down his back. “Though I don’t know much about… love… I’d like to experience it with you. All of it. The good and the bad that might come with it.”

“I’ll be here,” Y/N promised. “As long as you want me to, I’m not going anywhere.”

“And if I ask for forever?”

She let out an over-exaggerated, dramatic sigh. “Forever’s quite a long time, don’t you think?”

“Not long enough,” Astarion replied, a smile tugging up his lips. “It’d never be long enough with you.”

Y/N quirked a brow. “Is that a challenge?”

He chuckled at that. “I’d say it’s more of a promise, if anything.”

“Seal it with a kiss?”

“Deal, my love.”

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Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird

A/N: my tags are always open, so just drop a message if you want to be tagged :)

P.S. do not plagiarise my work or repost it on other platforms!!!

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jangmi-latte · 5 months

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‼️ CHAPTER 7.6 SPOILERS

idk man but maleficia's extremely suspicious to me right now because what have you been doing all these years? let's say even before meleanor was born, what kind of ruling has she been doing? when meleanor died, what did you do??? if you're so focused and busy with briar valley's affairs to even look after your own grandson, why is there barely any progress in the kingdom's ideology and the issue between humans and faes took CENTURIES to be solved?

with how the senate handled lilia, malleus, and meleanor's case, i highly doubt maleficia still has control over the country. because if you're the queen, the highest ruler, why do you have to request an exiled former general to look after YOUR grandson behind the senate's back? there's something extremely wrong. then you just let the senate take back the said grandson knowing very well how much lilia matters to him.

malleus said before that, while he's part of the top 5 most powerful mages in twisted wonderland, he can't surpass his grandmother's. but then we learn that maleficia can't even surpress malleus' magic barrier while HE WAS STILL IN THE EGG????? then you hid the truth from him for years for WHAT???? what are you trying to achieve????

briar valley is WAY behind the modern world's evolution. while they excel in magic, the civilization is SMALL. maleficia what are you, or rather, what have you been doing? and may i add. levan, who has a lower title is trying (and i dare say successfully) to make ends meet between fae and human. like okay there has been humans living in briar valley now but at what cost?

IF crowley is indeed levan then he's been really successful in his agenda. species of different kind and capabilities all under one establishment and working together.

yeah. malleus has all the right to be really fucking angry.

#twisted wonderland #twst #diasomnia #malleus draconia #dire crowley #twst crowley #lilia vanrouge #maleficia draconia #meleanor draconia #twst spoilers

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fuckingguide · 2 years

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we don’t talk enough about how great a job parisa fakhri is doing playing marwa, especially considering the restraints of the role. the way her mannerisms and tone of voice get more and more “cutesy” as the episodes go by and her true personality is altered by the djinn’s magic is honestly horror movie material, and she does it really subtly and gradually. i didn’t even notice at first but if you compare her speech in 4x02 to when she asks nandor about the flowers or her parents in 4x06, the change is noticeable, her voice is much more high-pitched. even in the wedding itself, her voice only lowers in register when she mentions she has had doubts about the wedding - the only moment where her real thoughts are coming through. as soon as she starts talking about how a feeling came over her and now she wants what nandor wants, her voice gets higher again. i may be wrong but i get the feeling that’s an acting choice on her part, and it really adds a new layer of depth to her moments on the show

#what we do in the shadows #wwdits #wwdits spoilers #marwa #rewatching the lamp episode it really stands out how much her personality and voice have changed #it could just be that she was more reserved at first because she wasn't as comfortable with her surroundings but..... i'm not sure that's i #frankly her arc so far has been a horror story so i'm really excited for the moment she gets her life back and she can go be an astronomer #or whatever else she wants to do #she deserves so much better #and i want to see more of her true self!!#post.txt #meta.txt

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etfrin · 3 months

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter fourteen | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus Snow, Dr. Gaul, elitism | lmk if I forgot something

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 mistakes are made, apologies are given

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 chapter fourteen!!! Let's go baby <33 remember to give me your feedback

beta read by my 💘 @nowitsmissing

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The rest of the day was dull. Nothing new had happened in the games. Coriolanus made his way to his home. Tonight was the night of the gala. Tigris had informed that she had finished making his suit but didn't show him how it was. It was a surprise. All he knew was that it was approved by you.

He reached his penthouse. He is greeted by Tigris with a hug and a smile. Coriolanus smiles back at his cousin for good measure. Trying to hide his nervousness about attending this prestigious gala that could make or break Snow's reputation.

Tigris excitedly shows him the red tux she had designed for him. Coriolanus wears the suit, and can't take his eyes off himself in the mirror. He looked good, there's no doubt about it.

His cousin has magic in her eyes. He tells her so and watches her eyes brighten up. “Oh, Coryo,” she said, lovingly, “It's because it's you that it looks so good.” Snow doesn't argue.

“And what about her?” He asked, “Did you make her dress the same as mine?” Tigris won't even let him see the designs. He can only imagine his heart would stop beating when he sees you. He wondered if Tigris was fine with that.

“You'll know when you see her,” Tigris giggled.

He sighs in response.

Tigris also adds, “She's the reason we still have this place, Coryo. Be kind to her.”

Coriolanus furrows his eyes. What did Tigris mean? “What?” He asked, his tone sharp. Snow didn't need pity money. And you being the one giving him dollars was salt in the wound.

“The payment for the dresses…” Tigris begins to explain, “It's enough for this month's taxes and a few weeks of food.” Coriolanus' mouth dries, he had completely forgotten about the eviction note. With everything going on, he supposed that it was natural. But Tigris had taken the burden herself while he was no help.

“I am glad,” he mutters, feeling heavily indebted to you. He didn't like the feeling. He lets it linger in the corner of his mind. He says goodbye to grandma’am and Tigris. Then he was on his way to the presidential mansion. You had said that you'd meet him there.

He reaches the presidential mansion. The press surrounded the area with cameras. He swallows as he realizes every moment of his is being broadcast live. Much like when he was in the cage with Lucy Gray. He doesn't let the flashes bother him. He already knew his outfit would be the talk of the show and it was a great opportunity to let Tigris's name out there.

He feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around. That's it. He's dead. His heartbeat stopped. He forgot how to breathe.

There's no other way to explain his reaction to you.

His sun and moon. You looked marvelous. Enough so that his breath was knocked out of his chest. How did people speak again?

“Hello,” he gasps out, his cheeks burning. He ignored the urge to trace his soulmate's scar. He looks away from you, unable to meet your eyes. Too pretty. Too fucking pretty.

“Hi, Coryo,” you said, wrapping your arm around his. You both walk up to the stairs of the mansion. “Is everything alright?” You asked, a bit worried as he wasn't meeting your eyes.

“Fine,” he mutters.

You hum in response, turning back to the cameras. All waves and smiles. He forgets to do the same as he has eyes on you. He watches you like a lovesick puppy. Until it's time to enter the gala.

He doesn't let his anxious thoughts take over. He counts his breaths as he walks into the mansion. The gala was filled with people. Even higher-up district officials were invited. Several army officers with high standings and even the peacekeeper heads of each district were attending. There were also his classmates.

Clemensia Dovecote. Festus Creed.

They were all present. He could see the Plinth couple, but their son was missing. Quite the idiot to miss this opportunity. More for him, he supposed. He leaves you behind to greet his friends.

“Clemmie,” he grins.

“Well, hello, Coriolanus. It's nice to see your family finally has an invitation. It was about time,” she smiles.

Coriolanus doesn't correct her assumption. He doesn't tell her that he is here as your date. He didn't deem it necessary.

“Did you bring a date?” Festus Creed asked.

Coriolanus shrugged and said your name, he also added, “Well, she was available.” Festus raised an eyebrow at Coryo’s dismissive tone.

“What about the kiss in the auditorium? Several hearts were broken, Coriolanus,” Clemmie jokes.

Coryo bit the inside of his cheek. He wanted to say something. But the fact you're District was surely fresh in his classmates’ minds. Telling them you're something to him wouldn't be much help with his goal for the gala. So, he shrugged, “Ah… well, we're all foolish sometimes.”

His classmates let it go. And he was glad.

Coriolanus seemed to completely forget about you as Clemmie and Festus introduced him to several elitists of the Capitol. People he can never meet through simple means. Coriolanus greets them, making small talk. Every time he mentions Lucy Gray, they're impressed. Even more so when they realize he's the reason that they can make such a contribution to the games.

In the conversation, Dr. Gaul joins. “Hello, Mr. Snow,” she greets him. She turns to the circle he was chatting up. The people were both in awe and afraid of Dr. Gaul. Just like him. She easily takes control of the conversation. Coriolanus does what he does best. Let the conversation flow in the favor of Dr. Gaul. He adds to the glory of the games and how it is necessary. He thanks the elitists for their funding.

From the gleam of approval in Dr. Gauls' eyes, Coriolanus felt proud like he never had before.

He wants to tell you about this immediately! He wanted you to be proud of him too. He had acquired several business cards by now. He had made an impression on everyone he talked to. If he won the Hunger Games, he wouldn't have to worry about university. After tonight, he won't have to worry after university is over either.

It was all because of you.

He feels dread in his mind when he can't see you anywhere on the floor. He finishes his drink, and excuses himself cordially from the conversation. He searches for you before he notices the stairwell leading to the roof. He decided to take the chance of finding you there.

He turned out to be lucky.

He finds you near the metal rails. You were leaning forward, your body facing the city lights. You looked like a part of the city view. He knew he had messed up as he walked closer to you. He left you alone the moment he could. A date wasn't supposed to do that. He knew that! But he was sure you would be understanding. He needed to take advantage of this night.

That's why you brought him here, right?

“Dove,” he said, taking your attention away from the view of the bustling nightlife.

“I see you're making connections, pup.”

“Pup?” he questioned, his tone turning wary.

“Of course, a pup. A pet wagging its tail to an owner who doesn't give a shit. Dr. Gaul, she treats you like an obedient dog baiting you with treats. For her you're disposable, a dog to put down when you'll bite her hand. And here you are in the gala I bought you too, kissing her ass in front of everyone as if they can't see through her bullshit.” You take a deep breath, trying to control yourself, “She sent you to death a day before, Coriolanus! If you're gonna continue to kiss her ass like a mindless pup wanting treats, by all means go ahead.”

Coriolanus takes a deep breath despite the fact he was offended; he didn't wanna fight with you. Coriolanus opens his mouth- he's interrupted by you before he can even begin speaking. You turned to face him. Your eyes glaring at him with anger.

“Not only that! You’re not disposable, Coryo. And I hate how people treat you that way. I am the only one who thinks that way. I am the one you left behind. You ran to Clemmie the moment you saw her and did you know what Festus Creed said to me? He said that I am here as your date and it's because I was available!”

“I have done so many things for you! From rigging the assignment of tributes to proposing the destruction of District thirteen. I have damned my morals for you! I would burn the world for you. And all I get is… this! It's fucking not worth it.”

You don't let Coriolanus speak a word. You tried to walk past him in a hurry but Coryo held your arm and pulled you back. He effortlessly pushes you onto the railing and traps you in.

“Don't talk to me that way,” Coriolanus said, his eyes blazing, his mind confused and his tone dark. “I know what I did was wrong. You should be understanding. What I am doing is for my future. I don't have the time to waste this night like you.” He doesn't bring up the mention of you rigging the tributes nor the nonsense of district thirteen. He will settle this first.

He continues, “What I was doing, it was to be expected. This was too good of an opportunity to let go of. Don't act stupid, dove. Act rationally.”

You scoff at his face and he feels his anger increasing. “Rationally? If you were rational, you would have waited for me to introduce you to the people. Do you know the power I carry, Coriolanus? Yet because of your prejudice against my background, you didn't use me to your advantage. I served myself to you on a silver platter and you left me to rot. Don't talk to me about rationality, love.”

“It's not because of your-” Coriolanus shuts his mouth when he sees tears falling down your cheeks. “Real or not?”

“Don't talk to me if you have to ask,” you sob.

He pulls you in his arms. He cages you, letting you ruin the suit with your tears. Due to the deep red fabric, the tear stains wouldn't be obvious. “I am sorry,” he whispered, genuinely.

He remembered your former words.

‘It's fucking not worth it.’

He tightened his hold around you, imprisoning you. He can't believe he messed this up this bad. The worst is it was his fault. He runs a hand through your hair, trying to calm you down. He whispers sweet nothings and apologies until the rise of your chest is steady.

“It's true. I have held prejudice against your background,” it felt wrong to admit this out loud. Coriolanus repeats, “I am sorry, dove.”

“You haven't been district for a long time and it's wrong for me to hold it against you. You're Capitol, not by blood but by deeds. It's more than enough.”

You pulled back, away from his arms. He mourns the loss in his mind, he wants to pull you in again immediately. You wipe your tears away. “I'll forgive you if you publicize our romance today.”

His eyes widened in shock. He wants to yell no! But then he remembered, ‘It's fucking not worth it.’ He takes a shaky breath, steeling his mind. He can't eat his words now. “Fine, sweetheart. You can tell the public Coriolanus Snow is yours and that you are mine.”

The smile you give him reminds him of a fox. He vaguely feels like he has fallen into a trap he can't get out of. Webs after web, he can't even imagine. He shakes himself clear of these thoughts.

You held out your hand, “Then come on Coriolanus Snow, my partner let me introduce you to some people who will like you very very much.”

He takes it. In his mind, he knows he has to ask you about the rigging and about the district that ruined his life.

He dreads it.

NEXT PART

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birdiewriteslit · 4 months

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Hi ! I just love your writing ! ❤️ Also, I was wondering if you could write a story in which the reader is Thalia’s sister and dating Luke. The reader always thought that Luke liked Thalia and thinks that Luke only dates her because she reminds him of Thalia. She shares her doubts with Annabeth who tries to comfort her and Luke overhears their conversation. Then Luke talks to the reader about it reassuring he loves her for her and it’s all fluffy. Also, to add little angst, the reader has been traumatized by Thalia’s “transformation” and beats herself up thinking that it’s her fault that her sister is a tree.

thank you so much! sure, i can do this!!

luke castellan x daughter of zeus!reader

warnings: angst, self doubt, trauma, fluff at the end

sorry if this is bad i haven’t written angst in a hot minute

Your memory of the day you arrived at camp was still as vivid as it was when it happened. You, Grover, Annabeth, Luke, and your little sister were on the run from a horde of monsters, all of them attracted to the strong scent of the daughters of Zeus.

You were sprinting up the hill, breath ragged. Luke, Annabeth, and Grover were ahead of you. “We’re almost there!” Grover shouted. “Just keep running!”

You were exhausted, running for days with no help from any of your godly parents, but you had to keep going.

You looked back to make sure Thalia hadn’t fallen behind, but she had her shield up, showing Medusa’s face to the monsters that were catching up.

“We can’t outrun them!” she yelled. “I can slow them down, go on without me!”

Thalia started to run toward the monsters, but you grabbed her arm. “I can’t let you go. We can make it, please try to keep going.”

“I have to! Aegis will keep them at bay for a little while. It’s me they’re following,” she reasoned, her eyes stormy and unyielding.

“Thalia, don’t. They want me too. I’ll go instead, I won’t let you die for me,” you proposed desperately.

“You’re always doing things for me, let me do this for you. Let me repay my big sister.” She pulled her arm out of your grasp and turned to run at the monsters before you could stop her.

“Come on!” Grover yelled from the top of the hill, Annabeth and Luke now far in front of him. “They’re catching up!”

“I’m not leaving her!” you protested. Grover met you in the middle and grabbed hold of your arm, practically dragging you to camp as you shouted several curses at him. “Let me go!”

“I can’t. My mission is to get you across that border, and I’m not letting two of you die for the rest of us.” Grover was gritting his teeth, struggling to keep hold of you as you made it across the boundary.

You watched in horror as Thalia jabbed with her spear and missed, the Fury’s whip coming down hard and hitting her over the head, knocking her to the ground. She didn’t get up.

The biggest lightning bolt you’d ever seen struck the ground, sending the hellhounds into a panic. The monsters retreated, half victorious, as they only managed to kill one of you.

From the place where Thalia died, a large pine was growing rapidly out of the ground, and a magical force field spread across the woods, strengthening the border you just crossed.

Luke grabbed your shoulder, forcing you to turn away from the scene. His eyes were cast to the ground. He couldn’t look. “Come on,” he said, his voice breaking.

You walked past the strawberry fields with Luke’s arm around your shoulders keeping you stable. You couldn’t say anything. You knew that if you did, you would break down.

Annabeth was sobbing beside Grover, who was leading the three of you to the Big House, where Chiron stood on the porch, looking solemn. You weren’t even shocked by his centaur form. The image of Thalia’s body hitting the ground was still replaying in your mind.

You woke with a start, sweating profusely and breathing heavily. Five years later, and you still had nightmares like this. It was always the same scene over and over. You could never escape that night.

You slowly sat up in your bed, pulling the covers back and placing your feet on the cold marble floor. You rubbed at your eyes, sighing as you knelt at your father’s statue in the middle of the cabin.

You never shared this space with Thalia, but you missed her like you had. Sometimes you would dream of her and you when you were small, and you would expect to wake up and see her asleep on the other side of the room.

You stared into the reflecting pool around the statue, barely recognizing who was looking back at you. The girl in the water was tired, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in days.

Looking up at your father’s carved face, you felt that familiar feeling of resentment. He had never helped you. When you were on the run, the only gift he gave was weapons for you and Thalia to defend yourselves with.

After you were claimed, it was like you never existed to him. He never answered your prayers, and he was never there for you when you needed him.

When you needed help facing Ladon on Luke’s quest, he was absent from the sky. You were forced to return to camp, two failures who learned to never rely the gods for help.

Luke was the only one you could relate to in that way. After that quest, you thought of each other differently. Finding that common ground changed your friendship into something more.

Sometimes you wondered if Luke saw Thalia when he looked at you. There would be moments where he would look at you like your sister was staring back, and he would get this sad glint in his eyes.

You certainly didn’t see her in your reflection. You’d looked for so long to find something that reminded you of her, but you could never find something good.

You had an aggression problem, which was about the only thing about you that resembled your sister. The only people you got along with were your boyfriend, Annabeth, and Grover.

Everybody at camp stayed clear of you anyways, as they were afraid of what you might do to them. Of course, you were more powerful than the others, and they were scared of that.

The day was off to a rough start. You were fifteen minutes late for breakfast, and when you entered the pavilion, heads turned. You were used to getting stared at, so you were able to ignore it.

You ate by yourself, keeping your head down. After breakfast, your first activity of the day was Ancient Greek with Annabeth.

You were reading out a boring passage to her when she stopped you at the end of a paragraph. “Are you having nightmares again?” she asked tentatively.

You looked up from the book. “Why do you ask?”

“You were late to breakfast. You’ve been looking so tired this past week. I’m worried. Luke’s worried. He says you’ve been distant,” she analyzed.

You sighed. “Yeah, I’ve been having them again. It’s the same as it’s always been.” You rubbed your hands over your tired eyes. “I can’t get it out of my head.”

“You haven’t told Luke?”

“No, I don’t want to stress him out. Besides, he probably sees enough of Thalia in me. Honestly, I think that’s why he’s with me. We all lost her that night, and he just needs something to remind him of her,” you confessed gloomily, picking at the corners of the pages.

Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise. “What are you talking about? Luke has liked you as long as I’ve known you. Thalia meant a lot to him, but you’re different from her. You mean something different to him.”

“Do you really think that’s why I’m with you?” Luke said, rounding the corner of the porch and making himself known. He had a hurt expression on his face.

“I’ll leave you alone,” Annabeth said awkwardly, standing up from her chair and hurrying away from the Big House.

“Luke, I-“

“I’m sorry to eavesdrop, but you can’t really think that.” He sat down next to you and pulled your hands away from the book pages. “Annabeth’s right, I’ve liked you forever. Thalia was like a little sister to me. The only time you remind me of her is when you get angry, and I’m not with you because of your anger,” he reassured, trying to make you believe him.

“Why are you with me?” Your voice came out small, and you were afraid of what he would say.

He shook his head, taking your face in his hands. “So many reasons. You’re smart, brave, and resourceful. You’re strong and beautiful. Honestly, you could name anything you don’t like about yourself and I promise you that I would love you regardless.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes,” he said sincerely.

You took a deep breath, ready to be honest with him. “In my nightmares, I see us on the night Thalia died. I see the moment she slipped away from me and I left her to fight on her own. I’m such a bad sister,” you admitted, voice breaking a little.

Luke looked pained at your words. His thumb was quick to wipe away a tear that had fallen. “What happened wasn’t your fault. Thalia was stubborn, once she got an idea in her head she wouldn’t let it go. You know that. If we let you go too, we would’ve lost you both. We couldn’t risk that.”

You were silent, taking in his reasoning and knowing that he was right. You leaned forward and kissed his lips softly. “Thank you, Luke,” you said quietly, resting your forehead against his.

“Of course.” He pushed a stray hair behind your ear. “Do you want me to sleep in your cabin tonight?”

“Yes, please.”

“Alright.” Luke pulled away and smiled at you. “What do you say we go zap some Dionysus kids in the strawberry fields?”

“That sounds like a great idea.” You grinned, already feeling much better.

#birdiewriteslit #birdiewritesfics #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x reader #pjo #pjo series #pjo tv show #annabeth chase #thalia grace #daughter of zeus #pjo disney+#pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfic

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drdemonprince · 18 days

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Can you offer any (academic) writing advice for Autistics and ADHDers? You clearly write a lot and write very well and very clearly, so some insight into your process would be great. Personally, I tend to struggle with over explaining or over citing (cause I am always getting misunderstood) and that I get very fixated on not misrepresenting what my sources are saying to avoid feeling like I'm lying. All this is time consuming and makes it hard to say what I really want to say. Thanks!

Hi there! I've written an essay about a lot of this, here is the free link to read it on Medium:

Much of my writing process is inspired by the book How to Write a Lot by Paul Silvia, and it is specifically tailored to academics. The advice applies to people who write popular nonfiction or fiction just as easily, however. And he does have advice relevant to the self-editing and self-doubt you describe feeling.

The full piece gets into this more, but here are some of the stand-out tips:

Schedule a regular time to write every week and show up no matter whether you are feeling it or not.

Throw out all your magical thinking about what you "need" to be able to write. You don't need the perfect workspace, divine inspiration, the right pen, the right playlist. You just need to show up to write regularly, and do it

Editing, outlining, working with research notes, and drafting all count as "writing." Don't expect your initial drafts to be perfect or to equate writing only with getting new words on the page.

Try writing in public spaces to help get yourself in the mindset of explaining a concept to someone with a different frame of reference and type of expertise than you. Writing in a cafe or a public library can force you think and write in a more accessible way. (alternatively, you can pretend you are explaining the concept to a specific person in your life who you respect but who doesnt have all the same reference points as you -- sometimes this is called the "Grandma Test". Explain something like you are talking to your grandma.)

In addition to all this, I would add that you should read a lot of writing, both good and bad, especially work that isn't dry and academic. If all you read is journal articles, you'll write a journal article -- and most of those are hell to read, even for academics. read fiction. read bad wattsapp shipping. read substacks. read newspapers. read indulgent personal nonfiction in the cut or whatever. read reddit posts. notice what works and what doesn't. develop an ear.

and then write a lot! it took me 15 years to get good enough for anything i wrote to get noticed. you can expect to take many years to get comfortable developing your own voice, too. i dont know how far along you are, but even when you've made tremendous progress you'll only notice your flaws and feel the most turgid brain foggy moments. that doesn't mean you're failing.

also, to some extent you can embrace your citation-dense, precise manner of self-expression. we are living in a moment of maximalism and indulgent, long creative works. it's the decade of the 5 hour youtube essay and the 2 hour album. my 5,000 word essays do better than my 2,000 word ones. you should strip down unnecessary tangents and trust yourself and your reader a little more probably, but ive found that the more blatantly autistic and indulgent my writing gets the more the right people like it. a writer's flaws and their distinctive voice are kinda hard to separate. you're not for everyone!

good luck!

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dotster001 · 6 months

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For Tuna:Blackmail End

A/N: for those who asked if I was still doing endings to "for tuna"....yes. I know it's been a while, but I'm slow and have depression! I'm sorry 😭

Part One Part Two Part Three Choose another ending

"Congratulations Leona! Don't blow this."

"It's dishonorable," Jack muttered as he listened to Grim and Leona outside the door.

"Heh, yeah," Ruggie said, not really listening.

So you were going to end up with Leona, huh? He had his suspicions, Leona had to be one of the wealthier students at this school, but it didn't make the sting any less.

Grim was smart. Whatever story he would spin, you'd no doubt fall for.

"I gotta go," Ruggie muttered, walking away from the door.

"Ruggie," Jack called after him, but he didn't want to listen to what the goody two shoes freshman had to say.

He needed to clear his head. He'd never have been able to be with you. He didn't deserve you, and even if he did, he couldn't support you. Not when he was already supporting his granny, and all the kids in his area. You certainly were also capable of working and helping to support him and his family, but legally, you didn't exist in this world. It would be hard.

Especially if Leona rescinded his invitation to continue working for him after graduation. Which he would, if Ruggie "stole you".

Ruggie realized he had wandered himself over to the courtyard. He sat under a tree, leaning back with a groan. He rubbed his tired eyes, trying to get the image of you on Leona's arm out of his head.

"Ruggie!"

Man, he must be hallucinating. You were burned in his mind, and in his ears, apparently.

He felt someone standing in front of him, and cracked open an eye. You were smiling at him excitedly.

"Can't you see I'm trying to rest?" He snickered.

You rolled your eyes. "You hang out way too often with Leona."

"Well he is my esteemed employer," he laughed. His eyes flicked over to your hands. "Whatcha got there?"

"Oh! They're dandelions. Before you come at me, they're seeding, it's too late to eat them."

"Then why are you holding them? And so gently, may I add."

You gently, slowly, handed him a seeding dandelion. Then you sat down next to him.

"Blow on it. Make a wish."

"Huh?"

"Just trust me! This is one of the only ways we can do magic where I come from!"

He sighed, but you looked so earnest. So he made a silent wish, and blew on the dandelion, just as you did the same.

"So what did you wish for?" You asked sweetly. He opened his mouth, but you grinned wickedly. "Just kidding! You can't tell me, or it won't come true!"

He rolled his eyes. "That's not how magic works. Besides, my wish is never going to come true anyway."

"Not with that attitude!"

"Not with any attitude. It isn't going to happen."

He leaned against the tree again. You sat quietly, scrutinizing him.

"Well, I wished for a man."

Ruggie snorted at your abrupt change in attitude.

"Any particular man? Remember, if you tell me it won't come true. Shi hi hi."

"Oh hush," you snorted. "Let's see, he's kind."

So not Leona, Ruggie thought with an internal, evil snicker.

"Someone who'd help me fix the dorm, even if he's already super busy. Someone who goes out for a snack, and comes back with a dessert that tastes like sardines. Someone who accidentally started my cat son on a pointless quest to find me a wealthy bachelor so that he can earn mine and Grim's love with tuna."

Ruggie blinked a couple times, slowly mulling over the clear description of himself.

"Huh."

"Yeah. Huh. Still not a wish that's gonna come true?"

He bit his lip, looking off into the distance.

"It can't come true," he tried to sound calm, but he couldn't ignore the bitter tint to his words.

You stiffened. "Oh. Any particular reason why?"

"I can't support you, Y/N. You deserve the world. And I can't give it to you."

"Well, you're thinking super far ahead. I won't even graduate until a year after you. Plus, I don't need supported. I'm a big kid. I can work."

"You deserve the world," he repeated, looking over at you with palpable heartbreak in his eyes. "And my one chance to give it to you will go away once we're together."

"Dude, you're completely losing me. What the fuck are you on about?" You raised a brow.

"Leona offered me basically a lifetime gig with him after graduation. But he's as in love with you as I am. And he's not exactly the most reasonable dude on the planet."

"So you love me too?"

He rolled his eyes. "That's what you got from that? Of course I love you! I wouldn't fix your shoddy building for free, now would I? I'm not that good a person."

"Sure you are," you said softly as you pushed a stray piece of hair off his face.

"You're missing the point! Leona-"

"The Ruggie I know wouldn't be worried about the jealous anger of a kitty cat who isn't even dating me," you said sternly, and his mouth snapped shut. Logically, you were right. But-

"The Ruggie I know, would join me as I take a trip to Savannahclaw with the intention of blackmailing his ridiculously wealthy housewarden, so he can keep his job and date his true love."

He couldn't even remember the trip, or how it got to this specific point, but damn, were you sexy snapping at Leona about this.

"And another thing!"

"Sevens, shut up, herbivore. You're hurting my head," Leona groaned tiredly. "And my heart. Do you really think I'm this cruel?"

"Huh?" You seemed just as startled as Ruggie felt.

"Sevens, you clearly love the guy. Just cause I'd definitely treat you better, doesn't mean that I'm an ass who would punish Ruggie if you both feel the same way about each other."

He gave a pointed glare at Ruggie. "Does he feel the same way about you?"

Ruggie nodded quickly.

"There. I'm not a monster. You're a good worker, it'd be stupid to lose you over something like this. Just be careful," Leona snickered, and leaned in close, his eyes predatory, his smile smug, "you slip up, I'm going to be right there."

"Fair enough, shi hi hi," Ruggie extended a hand to Leona, the both of them participating in a handshake.

"Sevens, you two are so difficult to understand," you muttered. Ruggie turned towards you with a grin.

"Now that I have my future secured, you wanna know my wish?"

"What was it?" You asked, clearly having a guess.

He stepped close to you, nuzzling his nose against yours. "You promise it'll come true?"

You hummed.

"I wished for a box of a dozen donuts."

You turned on your heel, stalking away, and he laughed after you. "Obviously I wished for you!"

"Whatever, Ruggie."

He chased after you gleefully, for once looking forward to the future.

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic @supertmntgirl @cxsmicdustdreams @aethermostbeloved @krystalkiller25 @asmallbean3 @theneurodivergentdummy @candlewitch-cryptic @smilingfox22-blog @phantomgaming1920 @the-dumber-scaramouche @noidonothavetimeforthis @bontensbabygirl @xxoomiii @somany-fandoms-solittle-time @bre99 @stupidsimp @sus0daddy @a-small-tyrant @imlost-sendhelp @mizukiblogs @neech @kazumify @owlisbuffering

#for tuna #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie #ruggie x reader #ruggie bucchi

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adore-laur · 6 months

Text

DADRRY: PART ONE

— just harry being a doting dad & husband 🍓

——

Saturday nights haven't been this peaceful in a while. Harry and your daughter left home about an hour ago to attend a father-daughter dinner organized by a group of parents at the daycare, so you're left by your lonesome to enjoy a relaxing time without your child's newly developed and daily tantrums. She's two-and-a-half years old, meaning it's out with the newborn bliss and in with the "Terrible Twos" phase every mom has warned you about.

She was always an easy baby; she never cried for too long or was fussy too often. There's no doubt that she's still the sweetest little thing, but some days, it can be a nightmare to deal with her. You're thankful for her otherwise reserved nature, but even then, a toddler will do anything to get what they want, and your daughter is no exception.

Nonetheless, you and Harry handle it as a team. The both of you choose to deal with her sudden outbursts by using a calm and understanding approach. She listens most of the time. If she got one trait from her father, it's the ability to be an annoyingly good listener and hang on to every word you speak. With Harry, it's always complete eye contact, well-placed affirmations, and asking all the right questions. You suppose it's because of his job, but he claims he was just naturally born with it.

Having been together for seven years, you and Harry have lived a beautifully intimate life on the coast of southern California, consisting of no neighbors, a secluded beach, and your little family of three. Harry works as a sous chef at a restaurant on the outskirts of town. He used to be the head chef before your daughter came into the world, but the wearisome hours he worked then would have never worked out with being a new father. He still hasn't accepted his old title back, much to your secret dismay. When he decided to demote himself, he suffered from a salary decrease and disappointed comments from co-workers. He didn't care, though. He had told you that if it meant he got more time to spend with you and the baby, he would selflessly accept the consequences.

During your postpartum days, he promised never to have a shift that had him arriving home after five in the evening unless necessary. It was a promise to always be with you for dinner, to watch the sun dip down the horizon, and to fall asleep next to you. He sometimes comes home in a palpable mood of frustration after a hectic shift, but as soon as he walks through the door and sees his girls, it's like magic the way his visibly tense shoulders sag with relief.

There are instances when both of you need an independent getaway, but most of the time, it's the three of you together in your domestic bubble of love. You've never known a man quite like Harry. Nothing compares to his heart or drive to be the best possible husband, dad, and son. Also, you appreciate how he's so attentive and gentle with every part of your lives and how he'd go against that gentleness if needed to fight tooth and nail for his family. You've built a life worth living with him. He's yours entirely.

And yes, his daughter has stolen some of that love, but each night before you fall asleep, it's like he can transfer every ounce of love in his precious heart to you with a simple touch. Or a single glance topped off with the softest kiss.

As you sit alone by the blazing fire, you realize that nights spent by yourself no longer appeal to you. You want your family next to you all the time. You want your daughter to ask a million questions, mostly incomprehensible blabbering, but it melts your heart anyway. You want to watch Harry cook dinner, always putting on his actual chef coat and reading a recipe in a terrible French accent just to make your daughter laugh. You want to watch him put a spaghetti noodle below his nose to act as a mustache, or watch him keep your daughter on his hip while letting her add an ingredient to a dish. Then, when she does, he looks at her with faux surprise and tells her she's better at his job than he is.

Yet when your chef husband isn't home to make delicious food, you're stuck making frozen pizza. You considered having a glass of wine with it but decided not to because waking up on a Sunday morning with a pounding headache and a cranky toddler at the breakfast table is not something you want to deal with.

With a reminiscent glint in your eyes, you finish the last slice and think about what they could be doing now. It's a little after seven, so you assume they're done eating dinner and socializing with the other dads and kids. Harry had said the restaurant was connected to a botanical garden, so they might be walking through it. Your daughter is probably exhausted. She woke up at five this morning and has been hyper all day, asking if she could go to dinner now, even if it wasn't lunchtime.

You decide to text him and ask if he could take some pictures in the garden. Your and Harry's camera roles are filled with images of your daughter.

I hope you guys are having fun! Please take some pics of you both at the botanical garden. Miss and love you. Get home safe.

You shut your phone off and stare at the moonlit water, waiting for your favorite people to come home.

——

Harry is waiting for the check when he gets your text message. His phone screen lights up, displaying his lock screen, a photo of him and his baby girl on a hotel bed in Italy. They're both wearing fluffy white robes and are passed out from a long day of swimming under the sun and eating a boatload of food.

That family vacation was six months ago. It was her second birthday, so he wanted to go somewhere special. Let's just say that being a chef at a nice restaurant has its perks. He had saved a lot of money after he started working more hours. Then, one day, he secretly bought three plane tickets to the Amalfi Coast.

Harry wants to go back more than anything. He has never felt more content and full of love (and carbs) anywhere else except for Italy. He swears he gained ten pounds from that trip alone, and he blames it on his daughter, who begged for raspberry gelato and ciabatta bread every chance she got. He had wanted to go back to the gym to lose weight, but you changed his mind when you told him on the last day in Italy that you found his new body attractive. You had also whispered in his ear that his thighs were thickening, and it was making you hot in the face.

So, naturally, he took you into the shower, had you ride his thigh, and then made you come twice in twenty minutes.

But that's beside the point.

Harry reads your text, smiles, and then responds: Of course, love. We'll be home soon. We're full of spaghetti and love you very much.

It's getting late, so he settles on taking the little rascal for a stroll through the gardens before she zonks out. He untucks his black shirt from his trousers, leans back against the chair, and rubs his hands over his stomach. It was a spaghetti dinner with seemingly endless garlic bread, so they both feel the after-effects.

Harry lets out a dramatic sigh that catches his daughter's attention. "Are you full?"

She mimics his position while nodding with a pout on her face. He laughs and starts folding his sunglasses in his shirt pocket, which he wore before it started getting dark out. He pushes their dirty dishes toward the middle of the table to make things easier for the busser. He then leaves a fifty-dollar bill as a tip.

Reclaiming his credit card from the checkbook and putting it between his teeth, he grabs the coloring sheet the restaurant supplied and tucks it under his arm. He knows she'll want it on the fridge.

He returns his credit card to his wallet and asks, "Ready to see the pretty flowers before we leave?" She hums a yes, and he can't help but reach across the table to pinch her cheek fondly before standing. "Let's go, sleepy girl."

She lifts her arms in a request to be carried, and Harry picks her up with a groan. He's only thirty-one, so he really shouldn't be struggling to carry his daughter, who weighs the same as a sack of potatoes. He supposes working in a kitchen and hunching over counters all day for the past decade might have something to do with it.

He hikes her up on his hip while she snakes her arms around his neck and rests her head on his shoulder. She'll be asleep in a matter of minutes.

After he pushes their chairs in, he waves goodbye to the other daycare fathers before making a beeline for the commercial kitchen to bid adieu to the staff. He's friendly with some of them since he's a local chef himself, and he always tries to show his appreciation to chefs. He knows firsthand the hard work and stress of successfully running a restaurant behind the scenes.

Harry pushes the door open using his elbow and quickly catches the gaze of the head chef, whom he has talked to a few times at past culinary conventions and events. He takes his free hand and covers his daughter's exposed ear since it's noisy in the kitchen, with metal clanging and orders being shouted.

"Hi," he says, smiling politely at the head chef. "We're heading home, so I just wanted to give my thanks. The food and service was excellent."

"Harry, it was good seeing you!" he replies cheerfully, reaching under a stainless steel countertop. "Stop by again soon. We love having your family here."

"Will do, man. I'll bring my missus next time."

Harry plans date nights every other week, usually finding restaurants he's never visited in the So-Cal region. You've told him he gets endearingly talkative when explaining certain establishments' different cuisines and recipes. The restaurant he's at tonight has always been a favorite because he's taken you there a handful of times when the both of you were still in the early stages of dating. He even worked there as an assistant chef for two years.

On the third date he took you on, if he remembers correctly, he may or may not have convinced his boss at the time to let him take you back to the kitchen so he could show you how to make chocolate-covered strawberries. You'd told him you had made them before, and he blushed while mentally facepalming himself; he thought he was being clever. That didn't stop him, though, because he ended up pulling something out of thin air. Turn up his charm, so to speak, by saying that his version of the classic recipe was extra special.

Well, he had lied.

They were just any old regular chocolate-covered strawberries, but he pushed up his sleeves (metaphorically and literally) and used fancy chef jargon to try to impress you. It worked… at least he thought so. Later, you admitted that you were actually just ogling his biceps every time he dipped the fruit into the melted chocolate.

Once the strawberries were finished, Harry wrapped them up nicely and drove you home from the date. He fed you one before you got out of his beat-up Subaru, the only thing he could afford as a broke assistant chef. He will never forget you walking to your front door, half the strawberry still in hand, and then seeing you suddenly turn around to return to his window to feed him the last half. He had taken it in his mouth, chewing after taking a strangely erotic bite. He smirked at you and glanced down at your lips, which were stained a glistening red from the tart juices.

"You're something else," he'd said sincerely, his voice a raspy from work.

"And you just scored another date with me."

From that moment on, he was gone for you.

After shaking hands with the other chefs, Harry leaves the restaurant and walks to his Bentley. He rationally decides to skip out on the botanical garden tonight because he wants her to be fully awake to see the blossoming flowers.

He unlocks the back door and gently straps her in, tucking her favorite blankie under her chin as she sleepily blinks at him. His heart melts into a puddle. "Let's go home to mumma, okay?" he murmurs, brushing her wispy hair back with a delicate sweep of his fingers. "I had such a fun time with you tonight."

She yawns as ferociously as a toddler physically can, then lunges her arms forward for a hug. Harry hugs her the best he can with her being in the car seat. He inhales her apple-scented shampoo while pressing kisses to the side of her head and then pulls away, poking her button nose with his thumb.

"Love you this big," he says, spreading his arms as wide as possible.

She giggles and copies his gesture. "Love big too," she replies brokenly with her sweet voice.

Harry puckers his lips and kisses the air before sliding into the driver's seat. He takes out his phone to send you a quick update: She's in a spaghetti coma, so we're coming home now. We can go to the garden as a family next weekend.

Pressing send, he smoothly pulls out of the parking lot and drives along the coastal highway with slightly cracked windows. He listens to his daughter's soft snores and thinks of you the entire way home with a dreamy smile.

——

You're still sitting by the fire, its flames dying with flickering embers, when you hear the garage door grinding open. You grin, immediately feeling warmer now that they're back home.

You had briefly gone inside to get a juice pouch for your daughter just in case she came back awake. You also spontaneously decided to make chocolate-covered strawberries since you felt sentimental while reminiscing about the honeymoon phase of your relationship with Harry.

The sound of footsteps sifting through the sand makes you turn your head. You find your husband with a sleeping angel clung to his side, his shirt untucked, and no shoes or socks on; he probably didn't want sand in his loafers. The shadow of scruff on his face is more noticeable, and the orange light from the campfire dances off his features. He looks at you, a soft smile gracing his lips as he carefully treads through the beachgrass to reach you.

"I've got a delivery," he whispers, sitting next to you on the blanket you spread out. "She's unconscious and full of spaghetti, so I don't think she'll be useful to you."

You laugh quietly and stare at your baby sleeping peacefully. Your knuckles stroke her round cheeks as you ask, "How was it?"

"Good. I ate my weight in pasta and bread, but it was worth it. We had fun."

You sling your arm around his waist and pat his stomach. "I'm glad you guys spent some time together."

He hums thoughtfully, unbuttoning his trousers to release the strain. "I need to start watching what I eat and cut down on the carbs. Otherwise, I'll look like Santa in five years."

He says it like he's joking, but you know he's been insecure about his weight since you were pregnant. He naturally put on sympathy weight during the nine months you carried the baby, and then afterward, it simply reached a point where he never had time to work out, whether being too busy working or spending his free time with you and the baby. He ate healthily, but some nights, he caved and ate carbs like there was no tomorrow. Plus, he's a chef, so you can't necessarily blame him for enjoying food.

When you met him seven years ago, he was twenty-four and had skinny legs and a slim torso. But if one thing hasn't changed about his body, it's his strong arms. They've held you through several situations — hugging you whenever you needed a companion, feeling the natural warmth radiating from him. Or holding your baby girl for the first time, his black tattoos beautifully contrasting the precious pink blanket that swaddled her. He could easily cradle her in one arm, fitting perfectly in the crook of his elbow like she belonged there. She still does.

Or, arguably, your favorite, which is when he holds your body up, your back pressed against his chest as he fucks you like no one else can. His bicep across your collarbones with his hand gripping your shoulder like he's physically claiming you, and his other hand gripping your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach…

You're getting carried away.

The point is that his body is lovely. He still has abs from being generally fit and strong thighs that can chase after your daughter during playtime. His back muscles are masterfully sculpted from the physical exertion that goes into being a chef. His flawless face, too, but that goes without saying.

"I love your body," you say, wanting him to feel good about himself. "No matter the changes it's gone through. I adore all of your soft parts."

He looks at you, trying to hold back a smirk. Of course, his mind immediately went to a dirty place.

"I'm being serious. You're allowed to have insecurities. Remember when you felt bad eating all those carbs in Italy? What did I tell you?"

Harry gazes at the ocean tide. "I was thinking about that at dinner tonight. When I saw my lock screen, I thought about that trip." He sighs and adds, "I don't know why I'm insecure when you're the only one I try to impress."

You stare at him with nothing but adoration swimming in your eyes. "Are you feeling these insecurities because of the dinner? With all the dads there?"

He leans forward and kisses your forehead. "Why are you so fuckin' smart? I swear you're too good for me," he says with a breathtaking smile.

"I just want you to talk through these things," you explain, touching his neck. "I know how miserable it can be to keep those thoughts bottled up until the bottle breaks."

Your thumb strokes along his jaw as you continue, "You're thirty-one. It's never too late to realize those insecurities and either come to peace with them or work on them. You know I'll always help you with whatever you decide."

Harry exhales through his nose and settles his forehead on your shoulder. "Never stop talking to me," he says sincerely, kissing your skin tenderly.

You pinch his chin with your thumb and pointer finger. He moves his head to gently nip the pad of your thumb before kissing it. "I love you."

"I know it," he whispers. "I just compare myself to rich, douchebag dads that own literal corporations and would probably ask me to be their personal chef in their ridiculous mansions if they knew what I did for a living."

You offer him a sympathetic smile. He shouldn't look down on his career. It pays well, but it's nothing compared to the So-Cal dads who own Lamborghinis and have a million different job titles.

"Harry, don't make me use my mom voice." "you say in a scolding tone.

He grins delightedly. "I don't mind."

"I've been with you for seven years. I was your girlfriend, married you, and pushed out a baby because I wanted a family with you. Your job doesn't matter to me in the way you're thinking. I love that you're a chef. When you first told me, I told my friends how hot I thought it was. I still find it hot."

He's full-on blushing now. You continue, "You come home and are in such a good mood most days. Do you know why? Because you love what you do. You love the people, the food you make, and the environment, which matters most. Not money or how many cars you own. Without hesitation, you made the difficult decision to step down from being in charge so we could start a family together. You have no idea how much that meant to me. Now you have a daughter who watches you cook her favorite meals and loves you insanely. That's what you should be proud of. And that's what all those other dads should be jealous of."

Harry's gaze flicks between your eyes before he kisses you with so much passion you feel dizzy. You kiss him back, and he inhales like he's breathing you in. Your daughter is still asleep, so you pull away before it escalates.

He finishes with a big kiss on your cheek, then rests his cheek against yours. "I love you so much," he whispers into your ear for only you to hear. "I'm pretty sure you just gave me a love boner."

You laugh, feeling his dimple form against your cheek. He leans back to look at you and shakes his head. "No joke," he says with infectious laughter crawling up his throat. "You just made me hard by telling me how much you love me."

You roll your eyes playfully before standing and stretching your back. "Yeah, yeah. Let's get her to bed."

Harry stands and hikes up your daughter a little. With a frown, he glimpses down at his pants when he realizes they're still unbuttoned. He obviously can't button them with one arm preoccupied with sleeping beauty, so you help him. You lift his shirt an inch to kiss his soft stomach first, then rest your chin on it and look up at him with a smile. After admiring his handsome face for a moment, you button his pants.

Your daughter is carefully passed from his arms to yours for a brief cuddle session before she has to be tucked into bed. Harry throws an arm around your shoulders and guides you inside the house. His steps falter when he retrieves a coloring sheet and gives it to you. It's a simple one that restaurants provide, and this particular one has a scene of two bunnies frolicking in the grass. It is what it is for a toddler with no concept of artistry, and you smile proudly when you take it from him. You'll hang it on the fridge with her other scribbled creations.

Harry opens the porch door and lets you inside first before locking it. He turns on the lamp in the living room. Then, as if reading your mind, he grabs tape from the junk drawer and attaches the drawing to the fridge. While he tidies the kitchen, you head in the opposite direction toward her bedroom.

After a few minutes, you see Harry in your peripheral vision and pat the floor in invitation. He kneels beside you, his knees cracking. He dramatically lets out a fake cry of pain, and you silently laugh while flicking his chest. He opens his mouth in offense, acting as if you just insulted him, to which you just shake your head and gesture zipping his mouth shut. He slyly smacks your ass, and you give him a warning glare before standing and kissing your daughter goodnight.

Before you leave the room, you get revenge by tickling Harry's sides from behind and then quickly running out of the room. You know how much he hates being tickled, but you were feeling the mutual playfulness that always trickles around bedtime. You reach the bedroom, hearing his heavy footsteps down the hallway. He pokes his head past the doorway to the master bedroom. You look at him with wide eyes and sit at the edge of the bed, waiting for his next move.

Harry saunters through the doorway, looking around and nonchalantly whistling a tune with his arms behind his back. He walks to the connected master bathroom, your eyes trained on him the entire time. He turns around to close the sliding door just enough so that you still have a partial view of him.

"What?" he asks innocently, catching your eyes in the bathroom mirror. He's messing with you. And making you sweat.

"What are you doing?" you retort, crossing your legs partly to act unaffected and to ease the ache between your legs.

He casually leans against the door jamb. "Let's see... someone left me with quite a problem, so I thought I'd take care of it before bedtime like the gentleman I am," he says smugly, maintaining a stellar poker face.

"What do you suppose I do while I wait?" you reply, confident enough to play his game.

He deeply hums while standing straight and removing his trousers. With his thighs on display, you admire the tattoos there — a tiger on one and your name on the other. "I suppose you could get some sleep. Perhaps read. Whatever you'd like, darling, I'm not picky." He now stands in black boxers and a loose T-shirt. So cocky.

"And what will you be doing if I decide to sleep or read?" you challenge, sliding up on the bed to lean against the headboard.

Harry lets a smirk take over his face as he says, "What would you like me to do, honey?"

"I'd like you to not be in there alone."

"Will you be a good girl while I take care of the little problem you gave me?"

"Of course, baby. You know I always am."

One side of his mouth tugs up as he slowly nods, seemingly agreeing with you. "Always so good," he whispers just loud enough to hear. He inhales deeply before turning around frustratingly slowly, finally pulling his shirt and boxers off. He's tan from the daily sunshine, and his back muscles flex with each subtle movement. Your mouth quickly goes dry.

He disappears to turn the shower on but leaves the door open, which you know is an invitation. You had already changed into your silk pajama shorts and a tank top while he was in the kitchen, so you shut your bedroom door before entering the bathroom.

Oh.

The sight has your breath hitching. Harry's silhouette is behind the steamed see-through shower door. One hand on the wall, the other... well, he didn't even wait for you. He already started. You hear his quiet groans being stifled by his mouth buried in his arm, causing hot and bothered tingles to prickle your skin.

You don't think he sees you yet, so you take your pajamas off and quietly close the bathroom door. For some reason, you suddenly remember you have chocolate-covered strawberries in the fridge. You leave him to his fun and quickly grab a towel to wrap around you before walking to the kitchen. You open the refrigerator, grab two strawberries, and then shuffle back into the bathroom. As you drop the towel, you realize he's still going. You didn't think you got him worked up that much just by talking about how good of a person he is. Each to their own.

After hastily eating one of the strawberries, you gently knock on the glass. Harry stops abruptly and rests his face on his arm. He slightly cracks open the door to see and hear you. It takes everything in you to not look down.

"Hi," you say quietly. "I'm here."

He's breathing heavily, water dripping down his slick body. Wet strands of hair fall over his forehead as his eyes bore into yours. "You are, aren't you?"

You subtly glance down at the problem you gave him; it's throbbing and needs assistance. You're sure he will disapprove of you interrupting his session with a dessert offering.

With your eyes focused on the floor, you absentmindedly draw a heart in the steam evaporating on the glass shower door and say, "I made dessert when you guys were gone." When spoken out loud, your sentimental baking idea seems stupid. "I almost forgot about them and then remembered they were in the fridge, so I brought you one. I was reminiscing about when we started dating and thought about the strawberries. Anyway..."

You're rambling too much. He was pleasing himself, and here you come, waltzing in with dessert while stumbling over words like you just met him. You need to get it together.

Harry is still looking at you with his chest heaving, his left arm taut, and his large hand pressed against the shower wall while his other hand still grips his cock. His piercing eyes have become darker, and they peer down at your hand holding the strawberry. The chocolate at the tip is gradually melting. His eyes travel even further down to your bare legs, then to the heart you drew. His lips twitch.

When his gaze meets yours again, his tongue presses into his cheek before he straightens his posture. He steps toward the crack in the door and leans slanted against the shower wall, his naked body shamelessly in full view.

You wait for him to interact with the Strawberry of Nostalgia, but he just looks at you smugly. Jutting your hand further, you indicate that he should take it again. It feels like he's secretly judging you. He's barely said anything, and now he's gazing at you like he wants to eat you for dessert.

"The chocolate might melt off since it's pretty steamy in here," you mention with a nervous and breathy giggle.

Harry regards the strawberry again before moving his head toward you. "Yeah?" he says with a wicked smirk.

"Yeah," you reply, refusing to look into his eyes. "They haven't been in the fridge for very long."

He laughs huskily, then clears his throat. "Well, I'm waiting right here, darling. I'm not a huge fan of melted and mushy chocolate-covered strawberries."

So… he wants you to feed it to him. Like you did all those years ago when you first realized you were so gone for him. Good lord.

The steam in the bathroom is not helping your feverish body temperature. You take a few deep breaths before touching Harry's swollen lips, which you assume he's been biting on to suppress his noises. He maintains intense eye contact with you as he slightly opens his mouth. You guide the strawberry into it, and he bares his teeth while sensually biting the fleshy fruit.

Once half of it is in his mouth, he tilts his head and chews slowly. He groans, his eyes rolling back. "So fuckin' good."

You eat the other half to move the tension along, then throw the leafy stem on the ground. On trembling legs, you step away and admire the water droplets on Harry's lips that turn pink from the juices.

His thumb and pointer finger wipe the creases near his mouth. He then reaches through the door's crack and brushes his slick thumb across yours before sucking on it. In desperate need of relief, you clench your thighs and shakily exhale.

"I'll be good," you plead, utilizing your angel eyes to get him to give in. "I won't touch you, but please let me watch."

Harry tuts. "Are you sure you'll just watch? Or are you going to be a brat like you were with that little stunt you pulled earlier?"

It's no surprise he's still hung up on the tickling. His ego can't take what he dishes out. God forbid he teases you because you know his precious pride will be crushed as soon as you do it back.

You bite your tongue and promise yourself to be good for him. "I'm sorry for doing that. I didn't mean to be a brat. I swear I'll behave this time."

He beckons you by curling his fingers inward. "Come here, then."

You slide open the door further until you can squeeze through, then shut it tightly before standing across from him. The shower is spacious with a built-in bench the both of you have done your fair share of indecent activities on.

"Hey," Harry says lowly. "Be my good girl and sit. No talking or touching, okay? Watch me until I finish."

Nodding, you obediently sit on the bench and cross your legs to relieve the subtle pressure growing between them. You glance at Harry with innocent eyes that you know will weaken him. He gives in for a split second when he leans down and places his hands on either side of your thighs, nudging his nose against your cheek before kissing it roughly. You try not to smile at his momentary infirmity.

"Stay put, or I'll walk out of here and go straight to bed," he warns, resuming his position you walked in on, except this time he's right in front of you. His palm on the shower wall closest to you with his other gripping his cock.

This is going to be torture.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #dad!harry #dadrry #dilfrry #harry styles #adore-laur

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twignotstick · 1 month

Text

Liar, Liar

Note: The characters in this fic are from @rufwooff 's teenage mutant ninja everything-but-turtles au. Leo is a salamander, Mikey is a toad/frog, Donnie is a gecko, and Raph is an alligator. It can sort of be read as a rise fic if you ignore the... frog stuff? But there are things that might not make sense without knowledge of the au. This post specifically inspired the fic.

Tags: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, ROTTMNT, Leo-centric, NOT MY CHARACTERS, Teenage Mutant Ninja Everything-but-Turtles, tmnebt, turtle tots (still unsure abt that one), dialogue written like a child, lying, extremely fluffy, but with a hint of angst

Warnings (if there's anything I should add here, tell me please!): nothing, why would i ever hurt kids :)

Words: 4,647

Summary: Leo finally gets to spend a day alone with his little brother, Mikey. When things go wrong, he decides to save himself. After all, what's so bad about a little lie?

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“Can grow to doo-ble the size in a few… h-owers…”

Leo held the small package he'd found close to his face, trying his best to read what the label said. Donnie had told him it was some kind of toy, but it just looked like a plastic whale to him. Mikey watched Leo from the bowl he was quickly outgrowing, listening intently to Leo's somewhat successful attempt at reading.

“Leave in a cup or bowl of wwwater and watch the magic!” Leo read triumphantly, holding the toy in front of him. The salamander looked over to his little brother. “We just need a cup or something to use it!”

“Wah'der!” Mikey noted wisely, bracing himself on the edge of the glass.

“Right!” Leo nodded, face turning pensive. “But I can't reach any of the cups or bowls in the kitchen, and Dad doesn't want me climbing on stuff anymore…”

“Waphie?” Mikey suggested.

“Raph's busy with Dad cooking dinner. Bo-ring.” Leo sighed. “And Donnie said he was studying today…”

“Hmm…” Mikey hummed, before his eyes lit up. “Bow’!” He squeaked, rocking his bowl side to side. “Bow’! A bow’!”

“No Mikey, we need a-” Leo caught on. “Oh, a bowl. You're a genius, Mikey!”

Mikey squeaked and squealed in response to the praise, wiggling what was left of his tail in the water. “Tank you.”

“Alright then, Mikester. You're gonna have to show off how good you are with those new legs.” Leo wrapped his arms around his baby brother's body, struggling for a moment to get a good grip with both of them having slippery skin, but he eventually hefted Mikey out of the bowl under his armpits and placed him on the stone floor. “This'll be a good oppa-tunity for you! You just gotta stay here while I fill up the bowl the rest of the way, okay?”

“Okie-dokie!” Mikey replied cheerfully, patting his newly grown hands on the floor. They had been fully developed for about a week, but he had yet to do much with them other than waving and clapping.

Taking Mikey's word without any doubt, Leo picked up the half filled bowl and carried it away to the nearby tunnel. Sure, he knew he wasn't supposed to go into the tunnels by himself. And sure, he knew he wasn't supposed to leave Mikey alone when they were playing. But Leo was a big boy! And so was Mikey! Mikey had all of his limbs now! That, Leo didn't exactly understand, because Leo always had all his limbs, just like Raph and Donnie. Mikey was just a ball with a tail and eyeballs. A tadpole, Donnie's voice reminded him. Now Mikey was a toadlet, which meant surely he was grown enough to be on his own for a few minutes.

It wasn't like Leo didn't like spending time with Mikey. He loved watching movies with him, coloring things with him, even chatting with him despite his more limited vocabulary. Mikey just… couldn't play a lot of the games Leo liked to play. Leo liked to move, and Mikey couldn't move a lot. Mikey couldn't play tag, or hide and seek, and he could only play Jupiter Jim if he was playing as Godfred, the Goldfish King. Even then, he was no fun to play with without his royal guards.

Today, Leo got to play with Mikey without supervision, a job usually reserved for his older brothers. It was a total breeze, he had found out, because Mikey was so stationary. Babies were boring, but they were easy.

Leo carried the bowl back, making sure to spill as little of the mildly murky sewer water he had collected as possible, and put it down right next to the toy he had left on the floor. Right next to the puddle where Mikey was sitting before.

Puddle?

“Boys! Come eat!”

“...spit.”

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

Leo walked into the kitchen with a nervous smile on his face, finding that Raph and Donnie were already seated with food in front of them. Both plates were filled with vegetables and meat, and Splinter was preparing two more plates with more of the same.

“Hello, Blue,” Splinter greeted, glancing around Leo's sides. “Where is your brother? I thought he was with you.”

“H-he was! He just got reeeally tired,” Leo lied, swaying on his feet and swishing his tail slowly. “So I tucked him in bed. He was really, indubitably tired.”

“You don't even know what that word means, Leo.” Donnie glared right into Leo's soul, pushing his glasses up as Leo sat down next to him.

“Yes I do! I-it means Mikey was really super tired!”

“Purple, do not be rude to your brother,” Splinter scolded. “If Orange was tired, he should sleep. He is a growing boy. Thank you, Blue, for tucking him in. He can eat later, after he wakes up.” Splinter finished preparing a plate for himself, then sat down next to his sons and began eating. “Did you all enjoy yourselves today?”

Raphael nodded. “I showed Cheech how to beat up the practice dummy right! He wasn't too good at holdin’ Raph's sais though.”

“That is very kind of you, Red. I'm sure that Cheech will improve if you keep training him.” Splinter smiled kindly.

“He won't,” Donnie whispered, leaning into Leo's ear. “Teddy bears can't do ninjutsu.”

“I think Raph can teach him, Raph's good at teaching,” Leo whispered back.

“What about you, Purple?”

Donnie straightened his posture, his tail sticking straight up for a moment, straightening his glasses again. “I actually did some very helpful research using the encyclopedia that Dad found and the book on reptiles we got a while ago.” He looked around at his brothers. “I learned a lot about our different species. I looked pretty closely into toads and frogs so I could talk to Mikey about his current state, but apparently I can't, because he fell asleep at 6 pm.” Donnie side eyed Leo questioningly.

“You can tell him about what you learned tomorrow, Purple,” Splinter said. “I'm sure whatever he and Blue did today was exhausting, was it not?” He asked, redirecting the conversation to Leo.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Leo agreed fervently. “Me and Mike were having so much fun. Like, Mikey was having sooo much fun, he literally passed out! And I put him in bed, like a good big brother!”

“He… passed out?” Raph asked worriedly.

“Yeah! Like, knocked out hard. Totally asleep. And I tucked him in good!”

“In his tub.” Donnie raised a drawn eyebrow.

“That's right!”

“Boys, there is no need to argue about this,” Splinter said with a strained smile as the brothers finished eating and put their plates away in the sink. “We should all be happy for Blue, who has proven himself as a big brother.”

“He's sure proving something, alright…” Donnie murmured with crossed arms.

“You can spend a little more time up, but I want you to get to bed soon as well. Meanwhile, I will be taking this opportunity to take a nice, long shower.” Splinter shook his robed arms, showcasing the small clumps of fur gathering across his body. “This stuff gets oily way faster than you would expect.”

“Don't worry Pops!” Raph said, standing absurdly tall for a child of his age and swishing his unruly tail. “I'll check on Mike, then I'll make sure Leo and Don get to sleep too! You have my word!” Raph tried to hold up a military salute, but he caught his hand on his large jaws and hit his head backwards, tail and arms flailing to make sure he didn't fall. He looked distraught for a moment, before making a show of shaking off the pain to be strong for his dad.

Splinter sighed. “Thank you, Red.”

Leo straightened up, eyes widening as he saw his brothers going toward their room, and dashed over to the sink to drop off his own plate so he could follow. Quickly, would be preferable.

“Blue? May I speak with you?”

Spit.

Leo stood with the most relaxed posture he could muster as he faced his dad, leaning on the countertop behind him with one elbow. “Sure, Pops!”

Splinter kneeled down in front of the salamander. “I wanted to thank you for spending the day with your little brother. I know that he is still unable to do many of the things that you can, but it is good to hear that you included him in your games anyways.”

“Oh,” Leo said, losing his fake nonchalance for a moment. “It… it was no big deal, Dad.”

“I would say it was a big deal, Leonardo.” Splinter placed a paw on Leo's shoulder, smiling softly at his son. “Once Orange hits the growth spurt he is bound to, it will be much more difficult to keep you boys from bouncing off the walls. I am glad to know I can trust you to take care of your little brother.”

Leo's heart dropped in his chest with guilt, but he kept his outward appearance well enough. Internally, he was screaming to run away and stop his brothers from reaching the bedroom. “Of course, Dad. Mikey was actually really really super fun to hang with! Not boring at all! He actually was playing way more than me, and like, he was really cool and stuff. And fun to play with,” he added carefully.

Splinter stood up, cracking his back. “That is great to hear. Now-” he clapped his hands- “to wash the gunk out of this gross fur!”

As soon as Splinter skipped away, Leo fumbled over his feet to rush to the bedroom. He kicked his tail a few times, but ignored it in his frenzy. His brothers were already there! It was over! He would never be trusted again! Not by Raph, not by Donnie (though who really cared about that), and most importantly, not by his dad!

When Leo got to the shared bedroom, he slid on the floor to turn in the doorway as fast as possible, only to find Raph terrifyingly close to Mikey's tank.

“WAIT!”

Both of his brothers looked up at him immediately. Donnie's glare from where he sat on his bed quickly changed from confused to exhausted. “And why, dear Nardo, would Raph need to wait?”

Leo hesitated. “Well, b-because-”

“No, Leo. You've been super suspicious ever since you came to dinner.” Donnie stood up, putting the book he had in his hands down.

“No I haven't!” Leo defended. “I don't even know what that means, so I can't be that.”

“It means you've been acting weird because you're hiding something!” Donnie accused.

“Am not!” Leo defended.

“Yes, you a-”

“Guys!” Raph whispered furiously, catching the other boys’ attention. “If you're gonna fight, do it quiet. Mikey's still asleep.” The oldest brother turned away, not being able to see the despaired expression on Leo's face, and approached Mikey's corner of the room where his small tank sat.

Donnie looked back at Leo with disdain. “Whatever you're hiding, you should just cough it up. Dad doesn't like liars.”

“Well that's great, cause I'm not lying. I'm like, the least liar-est person ever.”

“Uh, Donnie?” Raph asked quietly from his spot by the tank. “Didn't you say Mikey was supposed to mecha-morph-uh.. whatever?”

“Metamorphosis. It's the process through which a tadpole becomes a frog or toad. Commonly associated with frogs and butterflies, which come from caterpillars. And technically, the word would be ‘metamorphose’, in this context.”

“I think he meta-morph-osed into a whale instead…”

Leo held his breath.

“What?” Donnie walked over to the tank, continuing to ramble. “No, he's supposed to metamorphose into a fire bellied toad, not a whale. There's no way that- GASP!” Donnie plunged his hand in the tank, coming back out with an unmistakable item. “You left his bowl in the tank?!”

“What?! I-I don't know how that got there, I swear!” Leo stammered, grabbing the hem of his shirt.

“You said you put Mikey to bed! Mikey isn't here, but his bowl is!” Donnie shouted. “You lied! You lost Mikey!”

“N-no I didn't!”

“Oh yeah? Then how did his bowl get here?”

Leo puffed his cheeks, fuming. “It wasn't even my fault! Mikey said I could use his bowl!”

Raph gasped this time, like a normal person. “You really lost Mikey?”

Leo's anger faltered at the sad face on his big brother. The reality of the situation was finally settling in. “I-I didn't mean to. I just went in the tunnel for one second-”

“You went in the tunnels?!” Raph screamed.

Leo winced. “It was just for like a second, and nothing even happened!”

“Clearly, something did happen,” Donnie interjected, putting the bowl down. “You. Lost. Mikey!”

“I did not! Mikey said-”

“GUYS!” Raph slammed his tail on the ground, scaring his brothers into attention. “Right now, Raph's gonna ignore all the rules you broke. We don't need to fight about who to blame, because Mikey is missing. He could be in danger, or worse, already hurt. We need to find him before Dad finds out.” Raph stepped closer to Leo. “Now, where did you lose Mikey?”

“I didn't lose hi-”

“Mikey was under your supervision. Now he's gone. You lost Mikey,” Donnie said sternly. “Where did you lose him?”

Leo stared down at his feet, then sighed heavily. “It was right by the tunnel entrance, by the toy room. When I came-d back in, there was just a puddle where he was sitting before.”

“A puddle?” Donnie asked.

“Yeah, that's what I just said,” Leo groaned.

“No, that could be a clue. Show us where the puddle was,” Raph urged.

“Uh, okay.” Leo turned around and walked down the hall with his brothers in tow. He couldn't help but feel their eyes glaring into his back, judging him. Hating him for lying. For putting his baby brother in danger.

Maybe he wasn't a good big brother like Dad had said. Mikey was the only little brother he had. How did he screw that up?

They reached the end of the hall, and Leo was surprised to see a little bit of dampness still on the floor, even after almost an hour. “He was right here,” he said, crouching down to look.

“Hm,” Donnie hummed, crouching down as well. “Just as I thought.” He put a finger in the spot on the ground, surprising his brothers when his hand came up with something slimy. “Mikey didn't just leave the water from his bowl, he also left mucous.”

“Mucous? Like, he snotted everywhere?” Raph questioned.

“No, it's not snot. It's mucous. Many frogs and toads produce mucous with glands on their skin that helps keep it moist. In some, it also helps them breathe through their skin,” Donnie explained.

“So, Mikey left his skin snot on the floor,” Leo gathered.

“No. It's mucous, not snot.”

“Hey, look!” Raph pointed to another spot on the floor. “More snot!”

“Follow it!” Leo said, running over to the spot and searching for more.

Donnie pinched the bridge of his snout. “Again, not snot, but okay, we have a lead.”

“Why's it in spots, and not, like, little froggy footprints?” Raph asked, following as Leo spotted more spots.

“It's possible that Mikey figured out how to hop,” Donnie said.

“Ha! So this was worth it!” Leo said, pumping a fist. “I taught Mikey how to hop!”

“Or, you taught him how to hop off a cliff and die. Or hop right into a human's home,” Donnie replied.

“Donnie…” Raph whispered.

Leo didn't respond, instead choosing to keep following the spots. There were a few he saw on the walls, which he noted curiously. They traveled all throughout the lair, slowly becoming more recent. Eventually, the brothers found a place where they entered a door.

The bathroom door, where soft singing could be heard on the other side.

“Aw, spit.”

Raph elbowed Leo's shoulder. “Dad said you shouldn't say that anymore.”

“Why? It's not a bad word. I can say it all I want! Spit, spit, spit-”

“Guys,” Donnie said, “let's worry more about the mucous going into the room where Dad is showering.”

“Oh, right.”

The trio opened the door slowly, getting facefuls of steam that fogged up Donnie's glasses, causing him to back out. Leo and Raph stuck their heads in, surveying the area. Splinter's operatic singing filled their ears, making them wince. However, in the midst of the steam filled bathroom, they spotted what they were looking for.

Mikey was perched on the edge of the sink, looking at the closed shower curtain with wide eyes.

“Mikey!” Leo whispered, getting Mikey's attention and drawing his eyes. “Hey Angelo! Come here, come to Leo!” He held his hands out, beckoning.

Mikey squeaked softly, waving at Leo, then pointing at the shower.

“Nonono, don't go there buddy, hop over here!”

Mikey grinned, then readied himself to jump straight at the curtain.

“MIKEY!”

The clattering of metal and screams of the boys cut off Splinter's singing, as Mikey hopped right onto the curtain and pulled the curtain rod down. Raph pushed past Leo into the room, catching Mikey before he fell to the floor with the curtain.

Splinter, despite being covered with soaked fur, tried to cover himself and turned the shower off. “Boys!? What is the meaning of this?!”

Raph fumbled to keep Mikey in his arms. “Sorry, Pops! Mikey was just-”

Mikey turned around in Raph's arms, reaching out to Splinter. “Hi Daddy!”

“Orange? What are you doing awake?”

“He, uh, he woke up!” Leo said, pushing in front of Raph. “We had to follow him here.”

“Follow him?” Splinter raised an eyebrow.

Raph looked at Leo, unsure.

“Yes?” Leo said nervously.

They all stood still, Leo patting his toe on the floor. He couldn't tell if he was sweating of fear, or if it was just the steam in the room. The tension felt as thick as the steam filled air.

“LEO LOST MIKEY!”

“What?!”

“DONNIE, YOU SNITCH! I DID NOT!”

“YES YOU DID! AND YOU LIED! LEO LIED!” Donnie screamed from outside the room.

“Donnie! Stop being mean to Leo!” Raph said, struggling to keep a hold on the boy in his arms. Mikey wriggled around, bracing his feet on Raph's chest and hopping off, sending himself flying into Splinter's arms while also hitting Raph's jaws shut with a clack and nearly sending Raph falling backwards.

“Orange!” Splinter caught Mikey deftly, checking him over. Then, he looked back up to his other sons. More specifically, at the one who had just been basically slapped by his own jaw. “Red, are you okay?”

Raph grunted, but nodded slowly as he held his snout.

“Good. That was very rude of you, Orange,” he said to the son in his arms. “What do you say?”

“I'm sowwy, Waphie…” Mikey mumbled with innocent eyes. Raph gave a weak thumbs up in response.

“Good job. I'm very proud of you for learning how to jump.” Splinter looked at Leo, who physically shrank.

“I-I swear, I didn't meanta lose him. We were just playing, a-and he said-”

“He can tell me what he said.”

Leo felt tears trying to force their way out behind his eyes.

Splinter sighed, dropping his shoulders. “Red,” he addressed, “make sure your brothers get to bed. With no screens,” he said, shooting a glare at the door.

“I would never!” Donnie scoffed from outside.

“I will come to tuck you in as soon as I am done with my shower. I have a feeling that Orange won't let me go without giving him a good bath, too,” he added, causing Mikey to squeak and laugh in his hold.

“No problem, Pops,” Raph said, walking toward the door.

Leo blinked, confused. Where was his scolding? Where was his slap on the wrist? This couldn't possibly be that bad, right? “B-but I-”

“Go to bed, Leonardo.”

Leo shut up fast, swallowing all of his tears and excuses. He followed Raph glumly out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Raph was standing outside with a concerned look on his face, while Donnie wore a smirk.

“I told you Dad doesn't like liars.”

Leo walked past, trying to get to the bedroom with as little eye contact as possible. Raph reached to grab his shoulder, but he shrugged it off and walked faster. Donnie's words echoed in his head.

Dad didn't like liars. Leo was a liar. Dad was the one that took care of them.

He could kick Leo out.

He'd have to live in the tunnels. Or maybe, Dad wouldn't let him live in the tunnels. He'd have to live on the surface, with the humans. The humans who wanted to catch him. Who wanted to pull him apart to see what he was made of and then piece him back together to see what he could do. He would die without his dad. He didn't want to live without his dad. Without his brothers. Without Mikey. Because he did love Mikey, even if he lied. At least he thought so.

Maybe Dad wouldn't care now. Maybe Dad didn't love him now. Leo was a liar. Dad doesn't like liars. Why would he?

Leo flopped into his bed as soon as he reached it, pulling the covers over himself and turning in to face the wall. Raph attempted to talk to him, but Leo only curled up tighter, pulling his tail up so far he could see it in front of his face.

Eventually, Raph gave up. Leo heard him softly scolding Donnie, but tried to ignore it as silent tears fell off his cheeks.

Just when he thought he was about to fall asleep, Leo heard the bedroom door opening. He wiped his face and turned slightly, seeing Splinter walk first to Donnie's bed, then to Raph's, before finally coming toward Leo's.

He noticed Mikey sitting in the doorway, who waved when he caught Leo's eyes. Leo waved back slowly.

Splinter kneeled by Leo's bedside, just like he would any other night to tuck him in. Usually, this would bring Leo warmth and comfort, reminding him that his father loved him. This time, Leo couldn't fight the sense of dread that filled his chest, making it feel like he was breathing something heavier than air. He wasn't getting tucked in. He didn't deserve that anymore. He was a liar.

Dad doesn't like liars.

His father's eyes seemed to see right through him. “I am very upset with you, Leonardo.”

Leo tensed, but kept looking at Splinter.

“I am not upset that you lost track of your brother. You are a child, and I cannot expect you to be perfect. Do you know why I am upset?”

Leo nodded slowly, then mumbled, “Because I lied…”

“Exactly. It is because you lied. You could have told me as soon as it happened, and I would have helped you look for him. Instead, you lied and put your brother at even more risk. You could have fessed up when I saw Michelangelo in the bathroom. But yet, you still didn't. You didn't admit to your own fault. It took Donatello telling me for you to finally confess. And even then, you tried to rid yourself of all guilt.”

Leo sniffed, tearing up again. “Are you gonna kick me out?”

Splinter's eyebrows raised in shock. “What? No, I will not kick you out. Why would I ever do something so horrible?”

Something shattered.

“But… but I lied! I hurt Mikey! I-I'm a bad brother!” Leo's tears started flowing openly.

“No, no, Blue, you are okay. Shh…” Splinter rubbed his hand across Leo's face, wiping a tear away.

Leo sniffled and hiccuped, holding onto the back of Splinter's hand and softly sobbing. “I'm sorry, Dad, I-I didn't want to…”

Splinter rubbed his son's cheek, hushing him quietly. “I know. But that does not change what you did.” He looked deeply into his son's eyes, ensuring he had his full attention. “I forgive you, but this cannot go without punishment. I will not kick you out, and I never would. You are my son. Instead, you will be grounded for a month.”

Leo whined, but nodded. “Okay…”

“However, I believe that taking away the things that bring you joy will not make you learn the lesson that you need to learn. That is why, during this month, you will not be disallowed from doing anything in our home. Do you understand that?”

Leo nodded.

“The only caveat is that you must spend the entire month with your brother, Michelangelo. You will only do things that he wants to do. You will not plant ideas in his head or put words in his mouth. You will only do things that he says he wants to do. If he ever wants to spend time away from you, you will spend that time with me. Do you understand?”

“Mhm.” Leo nodded again.

“Perfect.” Splinter smiled. “I forgive you for this, and I hope that through this grounding period you can regain my trust.”

Leo smiled as well and nodded one last time, wiping one last tear with the heel of his hand. “I hope so too.”

Splinter turned to the doorway and waved Mikey over with his hand. Mikey grinned and hopped over, much quicker than Leo had expected. He stopped at Leo's bedside, slowly using the bed to brace himself as he stood up on shaky legs, then looked at his father.

“Tell Blue what you told me, Orange.”

Mikey wobbled for a second, then looked up at Leo. “I, um, I'm sowwy I went away when you said not go away. And I'm sowwy, um, I jumped at Daddy when you said not to do… And, um, I wwwanted to s'eep in a big boy bed tonight, cause imma big boy now, but I don't got a big boy bed, can I s’eep wi’ you.” Mikey finished the sentence like a statement, not a question, but his intention was clear.

Leo looked for just a second at his dad, who nodded encouragingly, before looking back at his little brother. “Sure, Mike. Hop on up here.”

Mikey did just that, with more force than Leo had expected. “Wow, Angelo, you've really got good legs now!” Leo said, catching Mikey in his arms and helping tuck him into the blankets. Meanwhile, Splinter walked to Mikey's tank and came back with his bowl and a towel.

“Alright, boys. Orange, your bowl will be right here if you need to soak, and your tank will be there if you want it.” Splinter pulled the blanket up, kissing each boy on the forehead. He cringed and wiped his lips after kissing Mikey, making the boy squeak and giggle. “Sleep well, my big boys. I am so proud of you, and I love you.”

“Love you too, Dad,” both boys chorused. Mikey snuggled into Leo's chest, letting Leo hold him like a stuffed animal. Leo only flinched for a moment at the slimy feeling of Mikey's skin (mucous, not snot).

Splinter walked out of the room, and it was barely even 20 seconds after he heard the door close that Leo heard a whisper coming from beside him.

“I'm sowwy, ‘eo,” Mikey murmured.

Leo looked down at his brother, confused. “You already said sorry. You don't gotta say it again.”

“But I said sowwy then cause Dad said,” Mikey explained. “Now, I said sowwy cause Mikey said.”

“Oh.” Leo settled back in, putting his chin on Mikey's head. “Well, I'm really sorry too. And that's cause Leo said,” he added, smirking.

Mikey giggled and squeezed Leo tightly, wiggling beneath the sheets. In a matter of minutes, the young amphibian had completely fallen asleep, slightly drooling on Leo's pillow. He didn't mind.

Leo grabbed onto Mikey and closed his eyes as well.

He never wanted to let go again.

○●○●○●○

Did I tell myself I would write au comp propaganda? Yes. Did I write a fic about an au completely unrelated to the comp? Yes, and I'm not sorry. I figured since another round finished up today, why not post something?

For real, I've had some insane art block recently, and writing has been keeping me sane. I tried writing propaganda, hated it, then realized, you know what makes me feel better every time? Turtle tots.

In this case, everything-but-turtle tots.

Shoutout to @rufwooff for making one of the most serotonin filled aus I've seen in a while, and fueling my exhaustion-induced writing spree. And go check out @tmntaucompetition! We're getting closer to the end! AAH!

#tmnt #tmnt au #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfic #teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #teenage mutant ninja everything-but-turtles #tmnebt #twig writes

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harunayuuka2060 · 9 months

Text

*Malleus noticed that MC had been smiling more in the past few weeks, but they only displayed that bright smile when they were with Silver or if the topic was about him.*

Malleus: *listening in on MC and Silver's conversation; standing right outside their room*

Silver: I've brought some food prepared by Jamil Viper. He serves as the vice-housewarden of Scarabia, and he's truly a talented cook.

MC: That's quite a generous portion. Wouldn't it be nice to share this with everyone else?

Silver: I see. Unfortunately, Lilia intends to add something to the food according to his palate.

MC: *chuckles* Are you saying Lilia has a weird taste when it comes to food?

Silver: *smiles* Something like that.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *walks away*

Silver: By the way, there's an upcoming event in our school.

MC: Malleus told me.

Silver: I understand it's hard for you to leave Diasomnia. Nonetheless, I'll make sure to remind Malleus to attend the event, so you both can enjoy it together.

MC: Thank you, Silver. I'll be looking forward to it.

Malleus: How are you, my love?

MC: Malleus— *noticed that he's carrying a box*

MC: What is it you're holding?

Malleus: Ah. This is a magical device. It has the ability to display events occurring beyond these walls.

Malleus: It would certainly make things easier for you, as there would be no need to step out of this room.

MC: ...

MC: But Malleus—

Malleus: I'm concerned about your well-being.

MC: ...

MC: There's an event that I would like to attend with you.

MC: I do understand that this method is more convenient.

MC: Nevertheless, I'd really cherish the chance to share this experience alongside you.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: Do you genuinely want to accompany me, and not someone else?

MC: *looks slightly confused* *but then nodded*

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *smiles* *sets the box down and sits next to them*

Malleus: ...

Malleus: I'll do everything for you.

MC: ...

MC: *lays their hand upon his* Please don't do it excessively.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *locks the door with his magic*

MC: Huh—

Malleus: I want to hold you in my arms. With no interruptions.

MC: I understand.

Malleus: *snuggles against them*

MC: ...

MC: *starts to gently rub his back*

Malleus: *smiles in satisfaction*

Crowley: We are anticipating the arrival of guests traveling from somewhere far. Mr. Riddle, would you mind explaining further?

Riddle: I don't mind, headmage.

Riddle: These guests have requested this event for a single purpose and that is to commemorate someone from their lineage.

Idia: A commemoration?

Crowley: Yes. They provided me with a glimpse of their narrative. In times past, there existed an individual within their lineage who possessed the ability to journey through dreams, effectively possessing immortality. However, one fateful day, the body that had been safeguarded vanished without a trace.

Riddle: The attendees will primarily oversee the event, requiring only minimal assistance from our end.

Riddle: Our primary responsibility revolves around ensuring the seamless execution of the event.

Leona: *yawns* As long as we don't need to work, I guess I'm fine with that.

Vil: You never fail to show your laziness, Leona.

Azul: It's a chance for me to expand my business.

Kalim: I am excited for this event!

Crowley: Vanrouge? Will Draconia be attending? He's been busy since he got married.

Lilia: Of course. He has his spouse's approval. *chuckles*

Malleus: *smiles while caressing their cheek and gazing at their sleeping face*

Malleus: *speaks softly as to not awaken them*

Malleus: I never imagined that we would one day arrive at this beautiful moment together.

Malleus: *kissing their forehead* *wrapping them in his arms*

Malleus: My love...

Malleus: Now I will never have doubts that you are mine.

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst malleus #twst silver #twst lilia #twst housewardens #twst crowley #in a world of grim

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enkvyu · 8 months

Text

"good morning."

"what."

your breath condenses as you exhale in soften shock, the presence of your boyfriend waiting by your bedroom door at a time when the moon still shone simply perplexing to you. gojo smiles, kindly, patiently, as you sniffle and force the gears in your head to turn.

finally, you shuffle up and sit upright in bed. "what are you doing here?" you croak, throat protesting from the lack of use.

"i came as fast as i could when you told me you were sick."

"it's almost three in the morning."

"that's why i said good morning."

your body takes a screenshot.

gojo laughs in a single breath and pushes himself off the doorframe, untucking his hands from behind his back.

he isn't in his usual jujutsu uniform you realise, as he steps into a spot where the moonlight shines through your window and spills onto the carpet. instead of his uniform, he's wearing a tight black shirt that's riddled with cuts and it's styled with an outrageous amount of scars on his face.

you can't help it, worry forces you up.

gojo catches you in his arms as you attempt to get out of bed, the rush of motion causing your head to spin but you don't care, you couldn't possibly. you trace a scar by his lips with your thumb.

"what happened to you?"

his lips quirk upward and you catch the movement with the tip of your finger. "do you think i look tougher with the scars?"

"what do i think? are you serious? you look like you’re on your deathbed, what happened?" your voice rises and he shushes you gently.

"okay, okay, i'm sorry. don't be mad, please?"

"why are you covered in scars?" you say instead.

"i got into a fight."

there's another scar across his cheek and you trace it. "with who?"

gojo tilts his head towards your hand so that your palm ends up caressing his cheek. "no one important especially because, you know, he's dead now."

"and you're definitely okay?"

he nods into your hand. "i think the one who isn't okay, is you."

you sniffle. "i took medicine already, i'll be fine. but you, god gojo, where do i even start?"

"you can start by getting over your fever."

your boyfriend tries to wiggle out of your hold but you only clench tighter, intent on keeping him close by. "are you sure you're okay?"

the smile he gives you is pure sweetness. he leans forward to kiss your cheek and you feel his grin even then. "of course. i’m more than okay, you’ll never guess who i just won against."

there's still doubt in your gaze when he pulls back and he laughs, breath hitting your face.

"i already went and got checked up by a doctor that i really trust." he adds.

it’s hard to not believe him when he looks at you like this, so you relent, sitting back. “shouldn't you be sleeping and resting up, then?”

gojo takes something out from the bag you didn't know he had been carrying, and places it on your bedside table. "shouldn't you? how could i sleep well knowing you were probably suffocating from all that snot in your nose?"

you scrunch up your face and glance quickly at the pile of used tissues on the table that he had to brush aside. "i was just about to blow my nose actually." your argue sounds weak even to your own ears.

he hums like he believes you. "right. and when was the last time you took any fever medication?"

"i think i went to bed at around eight?"

he tsks. "you're long overdue for something."

you recall his earlier words. “so, who was the guy you just beat?”

his eyes glint in the light. “guess.”

you groan. “i don’t know, was it the guy you were talking about a few weeks ago?”

“sukuna?”

“why are you asking me like i know?”

gojo makes a face at you. “but yeah, it was him. i beat him real good too.”

you’ve never really believed in gojo’s outlandish tales, of scary monsters and magic people, but sometimes your boyfriend will come home with injuries just as mindboggling, and you must admit you’d believe him a little then.

still, you can’t hide the taunting smile that passes through. “yeah babe, you really showed him.”

he sticks out his tongue and unpacks the bag he brought.

you watch as he walks in and out your room, holding nothing in his hands one second and appearing with a thermos later. he pours steaming water into a mug and places that down next to the bottle of medicine. it's the liquid type, and you wonder if it became a habit to buy it over tablets and pills, from raising megumi and tsukimi.

"babe, i don't want you to stay up just for me." your blocked nose causes the b's to come out as m's. “especially if you’re injured.”

"i'm your boyfriend, this is what i'm meant to do." he says. “and i’m fine, seriously.”

"i'm pretty sure this is a job for my parents, not you."

"i'm trying to be romantic." gojo sighs, measuring out the bright red liquid into a medicine cup. "but of course, you have to be incredibly snarky, even more so now that you're sick."

you rub your nose. "careful, i'm extremely emotional right now. you could easily make me cry."

he spares you a quick glance. "you'll live. here, take this."

gojo hands you the medicine cup and nudges forward the mug of warm water. looking up, he eyes you expectantly.

you meet his gaze hesitantly. "does this... taste gross?"

there's a silence until gojo starts laughing. "are you a child? i don't even think you could taste it even if you tried."

"i'm literally a patient, don't laugh at me."

"just drink the syrup."

"in shoujo mangas, isn't this when you're meant to be nicer to me?" you mumble underneath your breath, though he catches it anyway.

in the silence that ensues, you begin mentally prepping yourself for the unnaturally sweet taste of raspberry medicine, the kind that has always reminded you of childhood sickness. back then, you were lucky to have your family hovering over you with a wet towel and a warm hand.

just as you go in for a sip, gojo suddenly speaks.

"want me to make this more shoujo-esque, then?"

you blink at him. "huh?" you ask intelligently.

under the moon, you can barely make out the soft smirk on his face and the look in his eyes that you know all too well. it's a feature of his from when the two of you were still in highschool, and though this kind of cheekiness has faded away with time, you still recognise it.

it's the look he gives you when he's up to nothing good.

something in the air changes, and your fever can’t completely explain the sudden heat.

gojo leans over, carefully taking the cup from your hands. making eye contact, he tips the red liquid into his mouth, careful not to spill any. you gape at him, captured in his gaze, as he lifts your chin with a finger and presses his lips on yours.

he swallows the gasp that tumbles out from your mouth, flooding your senses with raspberry, though not the kind that reminds you of sickness. you can only think of his hand that creeps up to cup your cheek, the other tucking hair away from your face. he coaxes your mouth open with his tongue and forces you to drink.

when you’ve gulped it all down, his hands leave your side. he tries to lean away but you follow after, deepening the kiss.

gojo's fingers curl into your bedsheets and you feel his weight dip into the mattress as as he uses his knee to lean forward. you feel yourself fall backwards but he catches the small of your back with a hand and a chuckle.

eventually, he pulls away for air and though you need it just as bad, your lips trail after his.

eyes meet and spark in the dim lit room.

"was that still gross?" he asks, and it takes you a while to realise he was talking about the taste of the medicine.

you swipe your tongue against your bottom lip to relive the flavour, and his eyes follow the motion.

"no." you murmur. "actually, i don't remember. why don't we do it again so i can find out?"

gojo grins, using the hand on your back to press you against him, the other resting on the wall behind you. "only once more."

just like he promised, his lips fall back on yours and you sigh into the contact.

the night ends in raspberry sweetness, but not the kind that is unpleasant.

if you saw this somewhere else, no you didn't <3

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