#who is going to force me into being the perfect domestic housewife

[vivissex]

honestly when is someone going to hold me down under them as I beg them not to cum inside me, forcing me to take all of their cum, not letting me up as as I squirm and whine, lazily fucking it deeper inside me and not letting me up until you're sure I'll get pregnant with your child 💕

#br33d1ng #br33dable #pregnancy #PLEASE i need 2 b bred right fucking now #bonus points if the person breeding me is a misogynist #who is going to force me into being the perfect domestic housewife #extra bonus points if uve kidnapped me

[ticklishraspberries]

Family (Kazuki/Rei)

Summary: Kazuki discovers that Rei is ticklish. (Here is my fic for Squealing Santa 2k23, and I’m writing for *drumroll*...@tiklart!! I really hope you enjoy your fic. And a special thanks to @hypahticklish for running this event and being so lovely. Happy holidays to everyone!! xo)

Working and living together forced a sort of intimacy that both Rei and Kazuki weren’t exactly familiar with. Kazuki had been, once, but ever since that loss, he had closed himself off to forming such bonds, whereas Rei had never been so known to another person, and it sort of freaked him out.

The benefit was, of course, that it was beneficial to know one’s partner in their line of work. They had a basis of trust, of security. They worked well together, and had no reason to jeopardize that.

But there was also the domesticity of it all that was…Well, strange. Kazuki was like a proper housewife, cooking and cleaning and taking care of everything. Rei had grown up with money and maids, never had to care for himself, so that was welcomed. It was a little rude of him to leave it all up to Kazuki, but social skills were also not his strong suit, so he had no idea how to thank him, let alone help him with the chores. 

It was a calm day in their apartment, for once. There were no hits to be completed, nothing to do. Miri was at daycare, giving them some much needed peace and quiet. While Rei saw it as an opportunity to do more of nothing than usual, Kazuki was taking advantage of the day off, cleaning the apartment and prepping some meals to cook throughout the week, in his apron and all.

Rei often called him a housewife, which made Kazuki scoff and say something like, “So, what does that make you? My lazy husband?” which had once made Rei blush, but he had since gotten used to the banter. In a way, their dynamic had become almost like a marriage. They did everything together. And, well, Rei wasn’t complaining. Kazuki was a good-looking guy, no doubt about it, but they had never done anything to actually be a couple. They were just roommates and co-workers, arguably friends, who had now stumbled upon a little girl that they were raising as their own. As her two dads. Who weren’t married or even dating. It was a weird dynamic, for sure.

After cleaning Miri’s room, doing some laundry, cooking, and cleaning, all before noon, Kazuki plopped down on the couch beside Rei with a sigh.

Rei was, as usual, engrossed in a video game, and ignored his presence entirely.

“You know, you could have offered to help me out,” Kazuki said.

Rei made a noise in response, something between a grunt and a hum. An acknowledgement, but not agreeing or disagreeing. Not even listening.

Kazuki rolled his eyes. “Are you even paying attention?”

Rei repeated the noise, and Kazuki gave an annoyed huff.

“Earth to Rei,” he said, waving a hand next to his face.

Rei ignored him. He was so close to finishing the level, he wasn’t going to stop now! He focused intently, determined to finish with a perfect score.

He had expected Kazuki to just give up, leave him alone, like he usually did. But instead, Kazuki jabbed him in the ribs with two fingers, an unexpected touch that made him yelp and jump, tilting his controller in the process and effectively making him lose the level.

Rei turned with a disgruntled expression. “What do you want?”

“What was that?” Kazuki asked. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Are you injured from that last hit? Why didn’t you tell me? Let me see!”

“I’m not hurt, you’re just being annoying,” Rei replied with a glare. “You made me lose.”

“Did that guy hit you in the ribs? I swear, if you’ve broken something and didn’t say anything, I’m going to kick your ass.”

Kazuki began experimentally prodding Rei’s side, determined to find the supposed injury and probably cause Rei a little bit of pain as a lesson in getting shit checked out right away, but instead, Rei wriggled away with a level of energy he only showed while on the job.

“Cut it out!” he said.

“But if you’re hurt, I—”

“I’m not hurt, dumbass, just leave me—”

“Wait a second. Are you…Did that tickle?” Kazuki asked, something like realization appearing on his face.

Rei’s face grew hot. “Of course not.”

“Oh, really? So you wouldn’t mind if I did…This?”

Kazuki leapt across the couch at him, fingers finding his belly with surprising ease. Rei, with all his training, had seen it coming but forgotten any practical means of escape, and simply shouted and squirmed, like he wasn’t a fucking assasian from one of the most feared families in Japan.

He bit the inside of his cheek, refusing to laugh, his long limbs flailing and trying to hit Kazuki anywhere that would disarm him, but Kazuki was just as strong and tactical as he was.

When Kazuki’s fingers found his ribs again, Rei couldn’t contain it any longer, a giggle slipping out. He would never describe it as such, but it was definitely a giggle. Slightly high-pitched and hysterical, and kind of adorable, although he would also hate that description.

“Wait until I tell Miri,” Kazuki teased.

“Don’t you dare,” Rei spat, gasping for air between laughter.

“Oh, c’mon! You know how much she likes to see you smile.”

“I’m not smiling!”

“You’re right, you’re actually laughing. My bad. Miri will like that even better! I can just imagine the look on her little face when she finds out Papa Rei is ticklish!”

“I am not ticklish,” Rei said through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to laugh again, as if it would do him any good. Kazuki had a good grip on his torso and was tormenting his sides and ribs with the dexterity of someone who knew their way around a trigger, as well as a sewing needle.

“Oh, you’re not? Then what’s so funny?”

“Fuck off!”

“Language!”

“She’s not even here!”

Rei kicked and swung his arms and even attempted to bite Kazuki a few times, but he was weak with laughter and eventually slumped against the cushions, laughing helplessly.

“Admit it and I’ll stop,” Kazuki said.

“Never!” Rei replied. He had been trained by his family to withstand worse torture than this. He would find a way to get out of this situation…But what then? Kazuki was never going to let this go. And if the kid found out…Ugh, he was totally screwed.

Kazuki’s hands darted upward and underneath Rei’s arms, making his laughter reach a new octave. It didn’t take long for him to crack.

“Fine, fine! I’m fucking ticklish, okay? Now stop!”

Kazuki did, immediately, a smug smile on his face. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I hate you,” Rei said.

His normally pale cheeks were flushed and his eyes were watery, his hair even messier than usual, his hoodie and sweatpants rumpled. As he caught his breath, he noticed Kazuki staring.

“What?” he asked, scowling.

“You just…You should laugh more. You look…You look cute,” Kazuki said, stumbling over his words as he also blushed.

Rei’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’m not…Fuck off,” he said, but he was fighting a smile.

“I’m serious though! You just…Miri’s right. It’s nice to see you smile.”

Rei opened his mouth to reply, then his eyes caught the time on the television. “Shit. We have to go pick her up.”

Kazuki looked at the time as well, jumping up from the couch. “Crap, you’re right. Let’s go!”

And in the chaos of grabbing their shoes and coats, their minds were distracted from their previous antics and conversation. It wasn’t until later that evening, when Miri had fallen asleep in his lap, that Rei revisited those words in his mind.

Cute? Really? It wasn’t the most flattering of compliments for a grown man to receive, but coming from Kazuki…Well, it had felt nice.

Maybe roommates and coworkers and co-parents weren't all that they were. Maybe they could be something more. The thought made his cheeks grow warm. As he looked down at Miri, their daughter, he truly felt that they were the perfect little family.

#tiklart #hypahticklish #squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #tickle fic #ticklefic #buddy daddies #buddy daddies tickle fic #buddy daddies fic #kazukirei #fic #raspberry writes

[cornfields-td-nonsense]

this is your reminder to talk about how stubbornness runs in the miller family

*cracks knuckles* y’all ready for me to go off about the Millers again?

alright, Patrick’s an obvious example of stubbornness being a negative. He’s stuck in his ways, he’s got an idea mapped out in his head of how his wife and children ‘should’ behave, and by God he’ll make sure everyone follows it to a tee. When he decides it’s time for Ezekiel to learn how to man up and come hunting, it’s time. When he decides Esther’s outgrown her free-spirited and 'unladylike' nature, she’s outgrown it. He’s right, you’re wrong, debate over.

Mary might initially seem like an outlier, like the picture of a docile housewife, but she’s more than that. She’s stubborn as any Miller. More than anything, she loves her children and wants the best for them. She plays her part of domestic femininity on the outside, while quietly waiting for the opportunity to make her move. She may not know how exactly to get out of her situation, but she’ll get a better life for Esther and Zeke no matter what it takes. (And it goes without saying that once she found out what happened on those hunting trips, it would fuel her resolve even more to get Patrick out of their lives.)

Now onto the kids, and oh boy is there a lot to say about them.

Zeke is, again, an obvious one. His stubbornness to rectify his absolute failure in the first season is evident through all of World Tour. He came out the past season with no friends, no accomplishments, no chance of fame and nothing to show for himself at all, and he’s going to do whatever it takes to make this his season. He’s going to get something out of this - he’s going to win. Even as it destroys him.

He gets thrown off the plane before it even takes off? Run and catch up to it, and then march right up to the host and demand to get back on the show. He loses and gets voted off? Physically cling to the outside of the plane and then hide away in the cargo. Put on the best serial killer performance of his life while clinging to whatever’s left of his humanity. Claw his way back onto the plane once, twice, three, four times, then after it explodes? Hitch a ride all the way to Tijuana Beach. If the other finalists can do it, so can he. Getting the million - winning the game - proving to himself that it was all worth it - stays in his brain until it’s literally all there is left of him.

And then he falls into a goddamn volcano to top it off.

But he keeps coming back to the island. Because he’s still trying to get the win. To prove that all of this, sacrificing his own humanity and his entire life, was WORTH something.

And then there's Esther. Throughout her childhood, the more her father tried to get her to conform to the ideal of what a young lady should act like, the more she pushed back. Though as she's gotten older, sort of like her mother, she's learned to hide behind the veneer of a "perfect daughter". It's a front. She's every bit the loud, lively "free spirit" she was as a small child, she just doesn't show it in front of Patrick anymore. Hanging onto your beliefs and identity in an environment like this is not an easy task, believe me, so it's already a testament to Esther's stubbornness, but there's so much more to unpack with her.

From the moment she sees Zeke on TV in his feral form, even as the shock is still wearing off, she becomes determined to find him and bring him home. Even if it seems impossible, even if he's almost (but not quite) beyond recognition, even against the odds, Esther's going to do it. Because that's just who she is. She doesn't accept defeat, and if one route doesn't work, she'll brute force another.

(For example, if attempting to pack herself in a crate and mail herself to Wawanakwa Island doesn't work - yes, she really tried that - she gets there the only other way she can think off. By signing up to join the exact same show that nearly destroyed her brother's life, because that's just how far she's willing to go.)

When Esther first sees Art picking on Lara, she confronts him directly, because fuck no she's not going to let that slide. And when Lara later tells her she's "used to it", and not to worry, Esther just doesn't accept that, because why should Lara be used to it? It's not right, and she sticks hard to that belief, because it's what Esther does.

This is a family trait, and they all wield it differently. Stubbornness and determination are Miller family jewels, and they can be destructive or vital to living, depending on how they're used.

#total drama #total drama nautilus #the zeke archives #td ezekiel #tdn esther #misogyny michael #tdn lara

[roobylavender]

what would be the perfect ending for sasuke in your opinion?

there are so many things i want him to do genuinely. i like the idea of a naruto post-canon where everything that happens is followed up by the villages taking a stand together against the daimyos and i feel like he would be integral to that as a sort of reverse-pain figure who travels across the land and hears people’s grievances and connects to them through his own trauma that he has extensively suffered at the hands of state violence, but instead of using that collective trauma against unassuming people they use it to strip the daimyos of power by force lmao. like the problem with post-canon is it imposes all of these arbitrary spy duties on him and on him alone rather than recognizes the natural prerogative for everyone after the war is to connect with the other villages on a grand scale and form a coalition to fight back against their economic exploitation. so sasuke is one part of it in that he can recognize and empathize with people who have felt as abandoned and brutalized by the state as he has but there are also other parts like sakura traveling across the land to canvas the physical and mental health impacts of the system, hinata taking strides to destroy the class stratification that defines so much of internal clan hierarchy that is subsequently exploited for power grab purposes by multiple villages, etc. sasuke has to work with other people for there to be any change and portraying him as the lone wolf who comes back on occasion to address the quirky bad guy of the year is not conducive to any of that. put him in a library with some of the girls to learn political and economic theory they can put to use yknow?

other things that are always on my mind: (1) i personally believe there is so much more value in sasuke and sakura adopting than trying to continue the uchiha bloodline or whatever. like first of all their travels to address traumatized populations across the land would totally bring them into contact with orphans they could take under their wing but i also think it would be narratively significant for sasuke to realize he doesn’t have to carry on some legacy or burden himself with being the cornerstone of the family. that’s something that gets me about tsunade too like she’s the only living senju as far as we know but despite the clan’s noble reputation it doesn’t mean much that she’s not bearing children. her legacy is carried on through people like naruto and sakura and that’s what’s impt. and there is also a eugenics element to address imo wherein it’s very clear clans like the hyuugas and uchihas inbred and generally focused on maintaining superior bloodlines for purposes of producing super prodigies but it’s like.. why is that impt in a post-canon landscape? the truth is it isn’t. there is nothing the world would lose without an uchiha by blood bc their transcending quality is love and love is never strictly defined by blood. so. i think he and sakura should adopt ❤️

(2) one of the funniest (derogatory) things about post canon to me is making sakura into the housewife when everything about who she and sasuke are as characters points to the opposite imo.. like she’s a workaholic medical professional and i seriously doubt she is keeping a clean house so long as she lives alone. meanwhile sasuke has been ruled by discipline all of his life and grown up watching a brother who takes part in every aspect of domestic life to the point it formed sasuke’s only solace in a world of strict expectations he had to meet. but even beyond that sasuke needs busy work after everything he’s been through yknow like he’s not in any place to help himself when all he can do is stew. i like the idea of him coming home from trips and busying himself in the basic chores sakura (or even naruto) neglects to do bc her work schedule is not exactly conducive to a consistent home life. let him make the dinners and pick the weeds and go out to help villagers in the flea markets and farms while she plays hospital hero. let productivity displace the horrors in his head and make him feel like he’s working towards building something stable and strong. give the man a tomato farm

#naruto: series about ninja reliant on endless power scaling #me: yeah so forget about all of that #outbox

[melodygatesauthor]

I don't know if you have tiktok but a long time ago on there there was this video of a woman saying "To mention a domestic housewife... is to imply that there is such a thing as a feral housewife." and then does a bit where it's a feral housewife going "Oh? You're hungry? You want dinner? Yeah? Well you're going to have to catch me first!!".

And I just imagine that with Steven and Jake. Steven just has nice househusband energy with a cute little apron. And we already know Jake is an agent of chaos and although wouldn't mind playing the househusband role, he'd have fun being a bit of a cheeky bastard with it.

I do have tik tok but I RARELY use it (except recently to pine over Miguel)

I'm a hard working woman so I love this SO MUCH. I've said before that I would personally love to just work and my SO could show their love for me by giving me peace of mind when I come home so like...clean house and I don't have to make dinner because they already took care of it all.

Before anyone wants to say I'm coming from the same POV as misogynistic men... (gets up on my soap box that no one asked for)

There's nothing wrong with having a preference (i.e. wanting a "stay at home" partner or a person who does all the cooking and cleaning). What IS wrong, is saying that a specific group of people, (namely women throughout history) has to be FORCED to do these things.

So my preference would be a partner (I'm bi so I don't care if it's a man or woman) who understands how much anxiety it gives me to clean, and it also gives me anxiety to not be in a clean home, and the thought of cooking keeps me nice and stressed all day and so they take care of those things. In the mean time, I can provide financial stability and warm hugs and whatever else hehe.

Long way to say...

I agree, the boys would make the PERFECT househusbands and I would love nothing more than to give them financial stability and blowjobs while they keep my belly full and my pussy wet. I said what I said.

#steven grant #moon knight #jake lockley #marc spector #melody answers #melody talks

[sugawara-sweetheart]

𝔰𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩𝔯𝔶 | 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦 (𝔪)

❥akiteru x innocent fem!reader x kei tsukishima

❥summary: after finding out you have a secret boyfriend, your brothers are intent are making sure you know who you really belong to

❥warnings: incest, noncon, mindbreak, jealousy & possessiveness, heavy degradation, unprotected sex, slapping, spitting, mentions of age gap, threesome/spit-roasting, voyeurism

❥word count: 4.6k

part ii requested by anon

how oblivious you are.

you don’t notice that akiteru’s sweet smiles these days don’t reach his hardened eyes, that his sugary sweet words are sprinkled with malice, that he has nothing but murder etched on his face every time he looks at you. and of course you don’t notice, tsukishima realises. because you’re dumb. their dumb, stupid little sister who obviously thinks she could get away with being such a whore.

it’s almost laughable, tsukishima would’ve thought, if he didn’t feel utterly scorned. whilst he was so preoccupied with you falling into akiteru’s delightful, endearing little trap, he didn’t ever think you’d be falling into someone else’s. suddenly it all made sense- the little gifts of jewellery and chocolates you’d show your mother so proudly, the giggles from your bedroom late at night, going out less with your brothers and more with your mysterious friend before returning home with a soft scent of cigarette smoke clinging to your clothes and hair and your ruby lips swollen. you didn’t notice, but your brothers noticed everything. how could they not when their entire lives revolved around you?

and to be truthful, tsukishima had never seen akiteru quite like this. he was always the mellow, sweeter, calmer older sibling, the one who doted on you with a patience and affection tsukishima didn’t care for. yes, he loved you too, but there was something so utterly pathetic about your stupidity, something so fragile about your softness that made you entirely ruinable, and tsukishima wanted to do that. he wanted to be the only one to break you down into nothing but his dumb, little girl, to make sure he was the only god in your life for you to revolve your whole world around, to love him forever. and akiteru was an enemy to that, but first there was a bigger enemy the two of them had to overcome together first.

the perfect opportunity arises the weekend your mother goes away to visit your grandparents a few towns over. maybe if you’d been smarter, more perceptive you’d have noticed the danger brewing. maybe you’d have begged your mother not to leave rather than being so quick to usher her out of the door with a kiss to her cheek, telling her of course you’ll be good for your nii-chans, when are you not? maybe you should’ve noticed tsukishima’s eyes burning into your back with a mixture of malice and vengeance. maybe you should’ve picked up on akiteru’s wry smile and the tightness of the grip he presses to your shoulder when he agrees. “oh, we’ll definitely take care of her.”

tsukishima forces you into the car when he’s sent to go grocery shopping in exchange for akiteru cooking. of course the older brother insists you stay home with him, that you help him prepare for dinner in the kitchen, just like when you were children playing house. of course, tsukishima could see right through his older brother’s facade- beneath that sweet smile and sparkling brown eyes, there was that lewd fantasy of you being his good little housewife, his domestic goddess to fuck his children into, play happy families with. disgusting.

but tsukishima knows he isn’t any better- he doesn’t want to be away from you, he doesn’t want akiteru near you so he tells you you can come to the store with him, sakanoshita store in particular. the name of the local convenience store you’d often frequent back in your days at high school is enough to make akiteru freeze but you’re too busy grinning and rushing to check yourself in the mirror to notice the deathly looks your brothers exchange.

how stupid of you. you don’t think tsukishima notices his old coach’s eyes focusing on you the moment the little bell rings.

“tsukishima-kun, how are you?” the blond man smiles and your brother has to force a smile at his old coach, has to bite back the words that threaten to escape him when he replies. that stupid old man. and you, his stupid little sister, giggling so sweetly and playing with the necklace around your neck- the gold chain that was surely far too expensive for a college student to buy herself. you don’t think he notices how you and ukai’s eyes keeps locking when he’s ringing you up, how the smoke that rolls from his smirking lips smells the same as the scent that clings to you when you come home, how you wave so sweetly when you both leave.

you dumb little girl, tsukishima’s hissing to himself as his mind flicks to akiteru. how did you think you could get away with this? he should’ve known you’d be like this- a stupid, simpering slut pandering after an older man, thinking he can give you the world. he should’ve known from all the times you’d insist on coming to practise to watch him back when he was at high school, how you’d spend all your weekly allowances in the store, rolling your skirt higher and buttoning your shirt lower. he just didn’t think it was for that man out of all people.

it’s after dinner when akiteru’s taking your plate away that he turns to you with a wide smile across his face. but his eyes are cold. so cold tsukishima can see you’re recognising the malice that’s manifesting in them. he can see you squirm awkwardly in your chair, even if you’re intent on keeping that smile plastered on your face.

“dinner was so delicious, akiteru-nii! i loved it so much!” you giggle. “would you teach me how to cook?”

“did you think we wouldn’t find out?” his voice is ice cold and hard. it strikes right through the tense room, your smile falling as your widened eyes flicker from akiteru to tsukishima, confusion etched on your face.

“f-find out? find out what, nii-chan?” how pathetic. that little simpering baby voice may work on softening akiteru, but this is exactly why tsukishima would win.

“that you’re a fucking whore for ukai keishin.” the name makes you choke, your eyes roundening as you stare at tsukishima with utter shock, mouth hanging open. you don’t even get to splutter a response before he chuckles, continuing with his voice a harsh snarl. “how long have you been his little slut? was this why you’d always want to be at my matches? you hoped that if you cheered loud enough he’d fuck a gaping hole between your legs?” you look scandalised at his words, wounded even to be reduced to nothing but a dirty slut but the hurt flashing across your eyes gives tsukishima a thrill. more. he needs to see more. break you down into nothing but an utter mess.

“kei-nii!” you cry, your hands started to tremble as you point a shaking finger in his direction. “akiteru-nii, tell him not to say that!” you trail off when you notice how hard akiteru’s looking at you, his jaw clenched and his arms folded across his chest.

“why’s that, y/n-chan?” he says softly, but the darkness in his eyes is different. his footsteps are cold echoes across the kitchen tiles before he lowers his face to yours. “why would i stop him when he’s saying nothing but the truth? you’ve ruined yourself.”

your face crumples slowly, the tears building in the corners of your eyes starting to flow freely down your cheeks. how beautiful. how pathetic. your soft cries fill the room, shaking hands raising to bury your face in them but akiteru’s quicker when he grabs your tear-stained cheek, jerking your face roughly with his fingers pressing deep into the soft fat.

“why are you crying, y/n? we’re just confronting you about the truth- that you’re getting taken advantage of because you want to be a dumb, little whore.” he punctuates his words with mocking slaps to your cheeks, not harsh enough to actually hurt but you flinch and sob harder at every one.

“for such an old guy too.” tsukishima tuts, getting to his feet and towering over you. it makes you cower, your entire body quivering as you cry pathetically. don’t you know it just makes tsukishima even more excited, that breaking you is going to be just as fun as he imagined it to be? “you’re disgusting, you know that.”

“come on, kei.” akiteru chuckles, smiling coldly as he wipes your tears away. “she’s just a dumb baby- she didn’t know what she was getting into.” you look hopeful as you slowly raise your head, blinking at akiteru so fearfully with tears clinging to your lashes. “but that doesn’t mean you can get away with it- if you like older guys so much, you should’ve realised that nii-chan is right here.”

tsukishima can see the moment utter fear strikes right through you. you scramble to your feet, horrified sobs escaping you but akiteru’s too quick. his hand grabs your hair, tugging you back against his chest with his arm around your waist, easily lifting you off the floor as he grins wide.

“stop struggling. your nii-chans are going to help you to realise that you don’t need anyone else.”

“you don’t need to be such a slut for a man that’ll just fuck you and throw you away. so dumb.” tsukishima adds, smiling softly at the way you struggle against akiteru, crying feebly. “don’t make this harder for yourself.”

“nii-chan- no!! please-” you’re sobbing and trying to fight against akiteru’s grip but it’s in vain- he carries you out of the kitchen with ease, hissing with every kick you deliver to his shins as you wrestle in his grip.

“stop it, y/n- be good for me. come on.” he shushes you, gritting his teeth as he grips you tighter. your screams are louder, hysteric sobs and tsukishima slowly follows behind up the stairs, your wide, teary eyes meeting his. begging.

“stop being so loud, stupid girl.”

akiteru throws you onto your bed when he reaches your bedroom and you scramble away desperately, sobbing loudly but it’s too late. the door snaps shut behind tsukishima and he stands in the doorway, a twisted smirk stretching across his lips as he feels the blood rush to his cock. how pathetic. how feeble you are backing away to the edge of your bed, eyes wide with fear.

“n-nii-chin-” you hiccup. “please, i won’t see keishin again- just- just don’t do this to me, i’m begging you-”

“oh, baby.” akiteru coos, reaching out a tender hand which you flinch away from. he chuckles softly, glancing back at tsukishima with an amused smile tugging at his lips, one that tsukishima can only seem to return. it isn’t often he gets along with his brother, but this was definitely something they could bond over.

and then he’ll be beating him.

“isn’t she so cute?” you shake with fear, your face crumpling as you cry softly, making akiteru coo as he reaches out for you. you’re no match for his strength when he pulls you onto his lap, one hand pinning down your thigh and stretching them out whilst the other slides up to your clothed chest, holding your back flush against him.

“nii-chan- let me go!” tsukishima scoffs as he nears the bed, his lip curling as he watches you, hardening cock beginning to press against the outline of his pants.

“let me go first.” he demands. there was no way he’d let akiteru have a taste of you first- he simply didn’t deserve it. the older brother had spent too much time fawning over you, spoiling you with his sickly sweetness and look what it’d done to you.

“what? why would i let you go first?” akiteru scoffs, laughing mirthlessly as his grip tightens on you, making you squeal as you shriek.

“no- nii-chan, stop him please! i don’t want you to do this!” but neither brothers take any notice of you, the irritation and jealousy that’d long festered in tsukishima bleeding out as he scowls at his older brother.

“you’ve already ruined her with how much you’ve pampered her- now she’s some attention-seeking, greedy cockslut.” he hisses. “that’s why she’s whored herself out to fucking ukai keishin.” a cold smile stretches across his face as he turns to look at you. how pretty you look utterly heartbroken and hurt with your teary eyes wide and mouth hanging open. he knows his harsh words are ringing in your ears, that your heart is starting to break. maybe ukai keishin does love you. what were the words you’d used- ‘the one’? but you’re easy to break, tsukishima can see, as his cock twitches against the tight fabric of his pants. a little bit more, a good fucking till you’re dumb, and you’ll never think about that man again- any man again. you won’t be able to.

“that’s right, isn’t it?” tsukishima sneers as he crawls onto the bed. you squirm on akiteru’s lap, trying to force your head away but from the angle the eldest sibling holds you there’s no escape. “akiteru-nii made you think you're so special that you can have anyone right? that’s why you think ukai loves you? is that why you think you’re going to marry him? pathetic.” his nails pierce into your skin as he drags his hands slowly up your bare thigh, edging towards the hem of your skirt. “you’re nothing but a dumb cockslut to him. nobody will ever see you as anything more than a dumb slut- but not nii-chan.” you sob heavily and tsukishima hates that even now you’re looking at akiteru, begging him with your pathetic weeps and your weak, bloodshot eyes filled with tears.

“akiteru-nii, please-” but akiteru smiles calmly, shushing you gently as he presses a soothing kiss to your temple.

“be good, y/n. stop crying, that’s a good girl. nii-chan will take care of you afterwards, okay?” you shake your head wildly as his fingers begin to undo your shirt, begging one last final time but it’s in vain.

akiteru slips off your shirt just as tsukishima tugs off your skirt, leaving you bare and exposed in just your panties. a humiliated shriek escapes you but akiteru merely chuckles, his hands pushing your arms back and groping your bare tits, rolling the nipples between his fingertips as he presses soft kisses to your jaw.

“don’t be shy,” he coos, hips slowly grinding against your ass. “you’re so pretty.”

“for a little slut.” tsukishima snaps. his hand slaps against your clothed cunt, hard enough that you gasp and jerk in akiteru’s hold, your eyes filling with a fresh wave of tears and your bottom lip trembling.

“n-not a slut-” you whimper but he merely tuts, yanking down your panties to reveal your bare cunt.

“is this what you let ukai use, huh?” his voice is harsh and mocking, prising open your legs as you try to force them shut, your wails loud and drowning out akiteru’s reassuring shushes. “have you let him fuck this pussy yet? that’s the only reason why he’s interested, right?”

“n-not true!” you cry, body tensing as you squirm in akiteru’s hold. tsukishima meets your eyes, the fear evident in your widened orbs- but it just makes him want to ruin you more. it’d be so satisfying to see you reduced to nothing, getting fucked into a dumb, drooling mess on his cock, make sure you know nothing except him- no ukai, no akiteru, just your entire world permeated with him.

“akiteru-nii, let me go please- i-i won’t tell anyone.” you whisper. your voice cracks as you plead with your brother- even now when tsukishima’s the one unbuckling his belt you have the audacity to beg akiteru?

“look at me.” he growls, slapping the inside of your thigh to make you squeal, your legs quivering as the skin reddens.

“y/n, come on- just be quiet and take it like a good girl.” akiteru smiles, reaching out to massage the sore skin. “nii-chan will take care of you, don’t worry.” he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses that make you whine but tsukishima doesn’t seem to care- not if it makes you stay still as he pulls down his pants.

his hard cock is throbbing when it slaps against his clothed stomach, the flushed head leaking beads of precum and you begin to cry again when your eyes fall on it, your nails piercing into akiteru’s thighs.

“no- no- i can’t! nii-chan!” an agonised scream rips from your throat when tsukishima forces his cock into your tight little hole. it’s dry but your tightness feels so good around him, his dick being forced into your warmth as he groans with the pleasure, forcing himself to keep his eyes open to watch the tears stream down your face, mouth falling open with heavy pained sobs. you squirm, trying to pull away but with akiteru keeping you on his lap, there’s no escape from tsukishima driving his cock into you, filling up your little cunt as he thrusts as your spongy walls.

“you’re so tight.” he groans. “i would’ve thought ukai had stretched out this slutty pussy enough.” he sneers nastily when your face crumples, body shaking as your head falls onto akiteru’s shoulders, tears staining your cheeks. “hasn’t he used this cunt yet? cause that’s all you are to everyone, right? nothing more than a hole to fuck.” he slaps his hand against your swelling clit, the pressure making you jerk with the pain and you look so broken, so hurt when he grips your face, jerking you roughly to look at him. “well?”

“h-hurts.” is all you manage to whimper, voice hoarse as you break into soft tears. “please.”

“what, you’ve never taken dick before?” tsukishima snickers, thrusting his cock harder into you. your walls grip his dick tight, every vein and ridge rubbing against your spongy walls as you whine.

“kei,” akiteru murmurs warningly but it just irritates tsukishima more- how does his eldest brother always act so righteous, so sweet and saintly when he’s just as disgusting as he is, just as perverse and degenerate, that he wants to ruin you just as much as tsukishima does. “you’re going too rough.”

“so?” tsukishima spits, snapping his hips faster as you bounce in akiteru’s lap, gasping as you writhe. “a slut like her, she’s probably used to it.” he grits his teeth when akiteru snakes a hand between your bodies, his fingers pressing against your swollen clit and swirling it slowly, lips pressing soft kisses that clash with the rough way tsukishima pounds into your throbbing cunt. “that’s why you’re getting so wet- you like this, don’t you?”

“n-no!” you cry, your face falling as tsukishima grips it tightly, akiteru’s brown eyes burning into you with a growing darkness. “it hurts- stop!”

“but you’re getting so wet. you must be liking this.” tsukishima continues to croon, akiteru’s fingers rubbing faster to make your walls clench tighter. your growing wetness begins to squelch, beads of sweat layering over your skin and none of you can ignore how you sound less agonised, your pants breathy as you cling to akiteru.

“you really love dick, huh? dirty slut- how disgusting.” your walls clamp around him with each insult and despite the tears building in the corners of your eyes, you’re squirming with slick dripping down between your thighs.

“is that right, y/n?” akiteru murmurs, his eyes softening with a sadness that makes tsukishima want to punch him square in the face. you turn away from tsukishima to look at your oldest brother, your eyes widening as you register the grave disappointment etched on his face.

“no! ak-akiteru, i-i don’t- i’ve never had-”

“look at me when i’m fucking you.” tsukishima growls. he slaps akiteru’s hand away from your clit, gripping your jaw with the other, fingertips pressing deep into your tear-stained cheeks to force your mouth open. “stop trying to pretend like you’re not a cock-hungry, dumb slut.” he punctuates each degrading insult with harsher thrusts, his long fingers forcing their way into your mouth, making your eyes widen. your walls tighten around him as he presses his fingers down on your tongue, drool pooling around his limbs as he smiles sadistically. “go on, say it. say it and i might just let you come.”

“kei, not too much.” akiteru breathes heavily but tsukishima ignores him- he can see his brother’s hips grinding into you, his pupils dilating as his cheeks grow more and more flushed. how sick- he wants to pretend like he’s better than him, like he’s trying to help you but the sick bastard is getting off on it just as much.

“speak, slut.” tsukishima growls, pushing his fingers further down your mouth. he groans when his fingertips hit the back of your throat, your walls tightening around his throbbing cock as you gag, tears and drool spilling down your face. “what are you?” your words are garbled, saliva dripping down your chin and his hand as you try to speak, making him scoff as he rips his hand away from your mouth.

“how gross- you can’t even control yourself. what the fuck does ukai see in you? he really must be using you for this dirty cunt.” you sob hard when tsukishima makes sure to spit directly onto your face, the saliva clinging to your skin as you try to bury your face into akiteru’s shoulder but the older brother is slowly sliding you off his lap, laying you down on the bed as he kneels beside your face. the change in position doesn’t irritate tsukishima- in fact it gives him better access to fuck you deeper, his cock throbbing as the coil in his stomach grows tighter.

“y/n,” akiteru coos, wiping your messy face gently. “do you want nii-chan to make you feel better?” you nod desperately, clinging to his thighs that it sends a surge of jealousy striking through tsukishima- enough that he snaps his hips harder, shoving a hand between your bodies and pinching your clit.

“kei-nii!” you gasp. it’s beautiful- the sound of his name falling from your lips makes him grunt but it doesn’t last long before akiteru shoves his cock into your mouth.

your eyes widen at the intrusion, saliva spilling over his dick as he moans blissfully, holding the back of your head as he slowly rocks his hips into your face and as much as tsukishima hates it it’s the final push to the edge. the sadness and betrayal building in you, the hurt, the loss of innocence, the fact that you’ll never have that sparkle in your eye again is enough to make him cum with deep heavy moans. his cock twitches, hot ropes of cum splattering over your folds just as he pulls out.

you’re sobbing when akiteru pulls out from your mouth, a string of saliva clinging to his hard dick and although he shushes you gently, his eyes are only fixated on your ruined pussy.

“that’s what happens when you act a slut and whore yourself for men.” tsukishima spits. “you get treated like one.” you cry harder at his words, curling into a little ball but akiteru’s hands on your thighs stop you first, a small smile growing on his lips as he clambers over you.

“oh no, don’t cry, don’t cry. kei-nii didn’t mean it like that- every other man will treat you like that but not me, not nii-chan.” you sniffle at his words, rubbing your teary reddened eyes that you don’t even notice akiteru sliding his reddened, leaking cockhead along your cum-stained folds, gathering a mixture of slick and cum. “you didn’t cum, right? don’t worry, nii-chan will take care of you.”

tsukishima isn’t sure whether to feel disgusted or entranced when he watches akiteru slide his cock into your pussy, your wetness offering little resistance. you whine at the intrusion but you’re cut off by akiteru’s lips meeting yours, his kiss sweet yet feverous as his fingers twine with yours, pressing them onto the bed. as tsukishima watches, ignoring the slow stirring of his cock, he can’t help but feel the jealousy leaching into his veins; this almost could’ve been mistaken as something intimate, like two lovers- only it’s his siblings, after he forced himself onto you, degraded and humiliated you all because he doesn’t ever want you to be for another man. and watching you turn your head away from akiteru and crying as you stare at the ceiling, realising that you’ll never be rid of the stains of their violation, ruined for all men except them, gives tsukishima the biggest thrill he’s ever felt in his life.

“pretty girl, you’re taking nii-chan’s cock so well.” akiteru moans, one of his hands slipping down to swirl your clit, your soft moan barely audible under his heavy moans. “so good for me. nii-chan’s perfect girl, aren’t you?” you don’t reply, your lip trembling as you watch akiteru lower his face to your chest with teary eyes, a soft groan escaping when he wraps his lips around your nipple.

“but she’ll take any dick though, won’t she?” tsukishima spits as he wraps his hand around his cock. it’s not the same- it doesn’t feel anywhere good as your warm, velvety walls clinging to his length, the perfect hole to fuck. “you’d let anyone use you.”

he shuffles closer, stroking himself as akiteru begins to fuck you faster, ignoring your little whines of discomfort- or perhaps pleasure- as his head falls back with heavy moans.

“y/n- you feel so good- so good- such a good girl for nii-chan.” he doesn’t object to tsukishima forcing your hand away from his grasp, instead watching with widened eyes when he forces your hand around his cock, thrusting into your fist. you don’t try to fight it, instead lying limp and placid, your eyes glassy with soft moans the only sound escaping from you. “nii-chan will make you cum- don’t worry. nii-chan is the only one who can make you cum.” you whine when akiteru fucks you faster, his fingers rubbing your clit fast and each thrust making your eyes roll to the back of your head. it’s so sinful, so lewd to hear your moans grow louder, your hips almost bucking up to meet akiteru’s thrusts before you finally cum. a squeal escapes you as akiteru fucks you through your high and tsukishima can’t tear his eyes away from watching your wetness dribble down your thighs. he can only imagine what akiterus’s feeling- your warm walls clamping down on his length, pulsating around his throbbing cock and your slick drenching him-

fuck. tsukishima groans loud when he cums again, this time the sticky fluid splattering over your face. your mouth drops open with shock but it just makes it better- the stringy ropes of cum cling to your tongue and lips, ruining you in him.

“y/n, y/n, y/n-” neither of you register akiteru cumming until he’s chanting your name over and over, cheeks flushed pink as his hips stutter, head falling back as he releases in you completely. he pulls out slowly, smiling as the two tsukishima brothers watch globules of cum leak from your abused hole, a success to ruining you. but only one can win.

“you came in her?” tsukishima snaps. the anger flooding through him is hot and envious, made worse by the sweet innocent smile akiteru plasters on his face.

“well, someone has to do it for the first time. and what better person suited for it than me?” he looks at you with a wide smile, rubbing your leg softly and not minding about the finger marks beginning to purple on them. “nii-chan will always look after you, y/n. that’s why you don’t need anyone else- i hope you know that now.” you don’t reply, instead staring blankly at the ceiling with tears rolling down your cum-stained face. but akiteru doesn’t mind as he brushes your hair out of your face. “i’ll get you a glass of water and then clean you up, y/n. we can watch a movie afterwards- you can choose it.”

as akiteru leaves the room, tsukishima stares at you. you don’t move as you lie naked on the bed, the cum drying on your tear-stained face and your pussy a ruined mess and that’s when he realises how empty your glassy eyes are, how much hurt must be wrenching your heart now, how broken you must be.

maybe he should feel sorry for you. maybe he should feel disgusted with himself. but why doesn’t he? why is his mind instead whirring with all the lewd ways he can one-up akiteru and really make you all his?

#tw.incest #tw.noncon #tw.mindbreak #tw.jealousy #darkconfectionery #yandere!tsukishima #yandere!akiteru #dark haikyuu #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere tsukishima #yandere akiteru #yandere tsukishima x reader #yandere Akiteru x reader #akiteru imagines #Akiteru x reader #tsukishima imagines #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader

[thewriterowl]

Hi! Say, do you have any more headcanons on Luke being Mandalorian bait? That OS was HILARIOUS.

It must be said: Jedi are Mandalorian bait. It is like Jedi were made for Mandalorians. Is it a coincidence that Obi-Wan is so beautiful and shippable with a Mandalorian (Satine/Jango/Cody)? I THINK NOT.

Luke himself is even MORE perfect of Mandalorian bait because he fits almost every type a Mandalorian may want.

Badass warrior: This is obvious...Luke is THE Jedi. He is an efficient warrior who can turn into hardcore killer mode if necessary. He can from graceful to feral given the situation and he does it well. Hand to hand, weapons, power...he'll fight and fight well, beautiful even. Terrifyingly beautiful. Most Mandalorians will see him and go "well mark me down as scared and horny." which is just the epitome of Mandalorian type.

Feral idiot: Luke loves speed, he loves flying with flips, he wants to race and jump off things and doing something ridiculous whenever he can with an eager expression on his face. He's (nicely) competitive and is ready to face any moronic challenge that comes his way. Oh you wanna play chicken with a speeder to the edge of a cliff? YA BET YO ASS, LET'S GO BOY.

Big softie: Luke is Good Boy(TM). He saved the galaxy from being kind and forgiving and soft. He is the sweetest thing the Force has produced in ages. He is all warm and smiles and patient and a good listener. He is willing to give hugs and words of encouragement and compliments (and there are some egos in the Mandalorian culture, so this is niiiiice). He would fit some old fashion or people with specific kinks of wanting a housewife because he goes from warrior to someone who could wear a apron and do domestic stuff well.

Kinks: I'm pretty sure that Luke is open to so many kinks. Or he just fits into so many fantasy kinks for anyone looking at him (innocent kink, slutty kink, pregnant/breeding kink, homemaker kink, feral warrior kink, etc. etc.) he is probably a sex symbol in the Mandalorian culture because he can easily fit whatever fantasy they come up with. You know how so many people are over Pedro/Din on Tumblr? That's the Mandalorians to Luke.

Good with kids: Back to the big softie, sweetheart, light of everyone's life...kids love him. He wants to be a teacher and he's great at it. He is so soft and parental and warm and gentle (but also fun and can be energetic and loud) that kids can flock to him for fun. He is big on adoption and making children smiling.

Looks: Luke is a beauty. He's tiny but toned, has some soft points to him (tummy ❤️) but his arms are sexy warrior like, not to mention his waist and ass. Then there is his face which makes many do a double-take. He's beautiful with some masculine edge that, again, opens up a possibility for anyone to find what they like in his looks. (his tiny-ness also hits well to a lot of Manalorians who like to feel big)

Personality: Luke is funny, he's bright, he's a quick learner with a sarcastic wit to him, he likes to debate and spar but really likes quiet moments between him and those he cares about, he's a leader but can follow so well (coughSUBcough), he is so focused on family, respectable of tradition and other cultures but is very open to change and learning something new...

The guy is PERFECT and any Mandalorian will see it, and though not all want him people even like Bo-Katan would nod and go, "not bad."

He is meant for a Mandalorian and he may unintentionally do a Helen of Troy and cause a war for his hand in marriage (it probably wouldn't last cause his god-like power would step in and get everyone to stop.)

If Luke just walked down a Mandalorian street he'd be followed after like that comic of those mind-readers finding Luke like catnip. He'd be all confused with these warriors surrounding him and flirting/seducing or just wanting to talk and touch and get him things.

Din (or Boba, Paz, or all of them) are just sulking and fuming. But they can't say anything cause they're 100% the same.

#luke skywalker #luke is mandalorian bait #owl inbox #dinluke #bobaluke #pazluke #mandalorian/luke #star wars

[angelinpiink]

Hello 👋 and Happy Valentine’s Day 💝. If you’re not busy or anything, could you please do a yandere headcanons of either Ash lynx or Eiji from Banana Fish 🍌🐠? The choice is yours!

❥ Note:  Hi!  Thanks, I hope you enjoyed your valentines day. Here’s a very late from gift from me to you!!

❥ Warning: The following content includes triggering topics such as kidnapping, and unhealthy relationship elements so if said topics bother you please turn back!

  Ash Lynx Headcannons  ࿐ྂ。 

Ash is an Overprotective Yandere, meaning that he believes everything he is doing is strictly for your well being,he wants nothing more than to keep you from harm. He feels that the safest place you can be is with him at all times. Ash knows all too well how evil people in this world  can be due to the things he endured in his childhood. His intentions are completely pure, he just wants you to be safe so much that he doesn't realize that stealing you away from your life and everything you love wasn't the best way to go about things.

His obsession likely started after bumping into you on accident on the streets of New York, there of course  was something that stood out to him. Perhaps, it only took one look in your eyes for him to be reminded of his younger self, the younger self  that was in great need of  protection from the evils of the world. It didn't take much time before he came to realize that  it was him that needed to provide for you what no one gave him.

Though, i'm sure it took him a while before choosing to act on his obsession, he was  probably attempting  to make sense of  his feelings and as I imagine Ash would be the type to calculate the perfect plan for kidnapping you, what methods he would use to take you away, where he would take you and what he planned to do once he had you in his grasp.

He likely made plans to kidnap you at night, when it's dark and there are few people around to be witnesses and even fewer around who would actually care if they saw something that seemed strange. On the night his plans became a reality, the night that you would finally be his, to protect and cherish,  you were having some trouble sleeping caused by your  inability to shake the feeling that you were being watched.

For some ridiculous reason you  thought it would be a genius idea to take a walk, in hopes of clearing your mind and that was the exact moment where ash made his move. He, with help from some trusted members of his gang, snatched you up and took you to a secluded area, without explaining much.

Ash will probably keep you in an apartment located in a place where not very many people live or wish to live, so it’s likely a little run down and in the worst parts of town he may even take you back to where he grew up as a child. I imagine that your everyday life with your captor will be domestic and not very interesting, like a housewife, the highlight of your day will end up being cooking and cleaning because ash isn't letting you leave.

However,  this doesn't mean ash will force you to act as though the two of you are familiar with each other, he will wait for you to open up to him and regardless of if you are stubborn or not it won't take long as being locked up in the apartment with Ash day in and day out  will leave you desperate for human interaction. “Any  company is  good company”. You’ll often find yourself thinking.  

And the moment you are opened up to ash, I imagine that those boring days held captive won't be so boring as the two of you will often spend the day talking, sharing memories and things, he may even read to you but if you mention your life before being taken by ash, he won't be angry but simply just remind you of how it’s better if things stayed just as they are.

His intentions are pure, he will never force you of having sex with him, in general he is always gentle and patient with you. Though, if sex is something you want he will give it to you and likely use it as leverage to keep you from leaving.

“You’re safe here with me”  “it’s too dangerous out there, there’s always creeps trying to harm pretty girls like you.” he’ll always assure you, each and every time you mention leaving.

You’ll find yourself feeling sorry for him once he opens up about everything  ash has had to do through, what happened when he was just eight years old, Dino and what is going on with his brother and it all begins to make perfect sense and because of him never mistreating you or being forceful , after a while you may begin to be content with the way things are, convincing yourself that  ash needs you, completely brainwashed to believe that its what best.

There’s no doubt that ash will kill for you, he’s done it many times before to protect himself so he won't hesitate to end someone’s life if it keeps you safe, this includes killing anyone who he suspects may be trying to help you escape, or just intervening with him keeping you around. The only way you could ever truly be safe is with him.

Once he has you better believe he's not letting you go anywhere. I don't see ash getting physical  with you if you disobey him, out of fear of harming you , he’ll likely just lock you up in a room and let you waste your energy on kicking and screaming until you’ve calmed down  but if somehow you are miraculously able to escape it won't be long before he finds you, the next time you try to leave him won't be so easy and to be honest it’s quite useless because he has eyes all over the city, no matter where you run he’ll find you.

#ash lynx #ash lynx x reader #banana fish x reader #yandere banana fish #banana fish headcanons #ash lynx headcanons #yandere ash lynx

[3pirouette]

Fic: Domestic Bliss and International Espionage (1/1)

Title: Domestic Bliss and International Espionage By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Spoilers: General TFA and AC Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 8109 Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: For Tumblr’s @superhero-daugthers11 as a pinch hit for the Steggy Secret Santa. Steve and Peggy, back in the US after the war, go undercover as a newlywed couple to find a Hydra scientist hiding in the suburbs.

A/N: This is 100% inspired by several things. 1. One of my all-time favorite X-Files Episodes “Arcadia” 2. The first episode of WandaVision 3. My giftee saying she liked the idea of Steggy married/dating and working together for SHIELD, and 4. Getting another Steggy Bingo Prompt in there… sentence prompt: “Did you really just insult Captain America in front of me?”

Please assume/add in your headcanons for the following: Steve was rescued shortly after the Valkyrie crash and OBVIOUSLY has pursued a romantic relationship with Peggy. Due to this, the events of the Agent Carter series have NOT happened. They’re both working for the SSR, tying up loose ends from the war.  

Easiest way to see what I see is to imagine Steve and Peggy in the Petrie’s house from the Dick Van Dyke Show… but if you’re not familiar with that, the house from the first episode of WandaVision will do nicely.

~*~

Steve turned from the suitcase where he was lifting folded shirts out. “Just… consider this a test run.”

Peggy smirked, leaning against the doorjamb of the bedroom. She held out her hand, one of Steve’s socks dangling from her two fingers. “What, for me finding your stinky socks on the bathroom floor? Strike one, Rogers.”

Peggy tossed the sock to him, moving into the small bedroom with its double twin beds. She sat heavily on the side of hers, shaking her head. “If this is anything like moving, I’ll never do it again. I’m exhausted.”

Steve tucked his shirts away in the drawer, turning back to her, balling the sock up in his hand and tossing it into the hamper in the closet. “Most houses don’t have top of the line surveillance equipment we would have to hide in the roses.”

“The neighbors are already peeking out,” Peggy said, kicking her shoes off and sliding them under the edge of the bed with her toe. “I saw some from the back door peeking over while I was finishing in the kitchen. I’m sure we’ll have visitors tomorrow.”

Steve grabbed his empty suitcase from the bed and slipped it in the closet, shutting the door. “I’m surprised we didn’t have any today, what with all the commotion of moving in.”

Peggy shrugged, bouncing back to lie on the bed. “In my experience, deep cover Hydra scientists trying to hide out in suburban communities don’t just knock on your door and announce themselves.”

Steve chuckled, moving over to sit on the side of her bed at her hip. He gently took her left hand, running his thumb over the fake wedding band she wore. Peggy smiled up at him. “You know, Angie told me you’d asked her about my ring size.” Steve’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, and she could see his mind trying to scramble to salvage the surprise. “Oh, I know it’s coming, Steve. Don’t try to pretend it isn’t.”

He smiled softly. “I was hoping to surprise you is all.”

“You will,” she whispered, shifting to hold his hand tight. “When, where, how… I’ll try to avoid using my super spy powers on you to divine those things.” She reached her other hand to slide up his arm. “I’m an inpatient woman, so don’t make me wait too long.”

Steve smiled wolfishly at her, leaning over and putting his weight on his left hand, trapping her under him. “I mean, this counts, right?” He leaned down, letting Peggy traverse the last few centimeters to bring their lips together, kissing her sweetly. “This counts as being married?”

She chuckled as she kissed him, reaching one arm up to twine in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Absolutely does not.”

He pulled back a bit, teasing. “I mean, I am sleeping right over there…”

“In your own bed,” Peggy pushed them up to sitting, wrapping both arms around his shoulders.

“And it would be so easy to just push them together.”

She shook her head, teasing, despite the fact that the idea seemed like a good one to her. “Scandalous.”

Steve kissed her gently again. “Well, I suppose I should at least pretend to let you get a good night’s sleep?”

Peggy nodded, smiling. “We’ve got a bit of work ahead of us, I think. Very few men trying to hide from prosecution for war crimes make themselves known.”

“Good night then,” he kissed her softly and pushed away from her, “Mrs. Harper.”

Peggy tipped her head with a sultry smile. “Mr. Harper.”

~*~

Peggy moved the eggs around the pan, eyes tight on them as Steve walked into the kitchen the next morning. “Don’t distract me,” she mumbled. “The second I look away they burn.”

He watched her for a moment as she gently stirred the scrambled eggs, eyes intent as he’d ever seen them. “Stove burning too hot?”

“Simply out of practice, I’m afraid. Already ruined four eggs this way.” She pulled the pan off the heat and separated the eggs on to two plates. “Anything I’ve eaten for the last few years has come from a mess, out of a can, or from the automat.” She set the empty pan down and snapped off the heat. “Why you ever married me I’ll never know.”

He moved over, taking both plates and kissing her on the cheek. “Why, I like it so much, I might do it twice.”

Peggy chuckled, moving the pan to the sink and running water in it. “Easy there, soldier. We haven’t made it through this mission yet.” She peeked over at his silence, then turned around all the way, meeting his intent stare. “It’s the apron, isn’t it? I’ve gone too far?”

Steve watched, hands still full of plates, as she spun in her dress, looking for something out of place while her perfect curls bounced around her face like something out of a beauty magazine. He smiled, “No, no- I just…” he cleared his throat, moving to set the plates on the small table in the kitchen. He took a gentle deep breath and moved over to her. “It’s all a little… too perfect, you know? Not quite us, I think, but like something out of a movie.”

Peggy bit her lip, stepping closer to him so he could wrap her in his arms. “This whole thing is a bit spot on.” She played with the edge of his cardigan, the blue doing amazing things for his eyes. “But needs must when trying to build a trap.”

He moved his hand to trace over her chin, feeling content and happy despite the threat. “Will you cook me eggs after this is all over?”

Peggy would her arms around his neck, humming happily. “If you’re a good boy.” After a moment, she pushed back, centering herself. “Though you haven’t eaten them, yet, so you are taking a large chance there, darling.” She pushed him towards the table and followed shortly, two mugs of coffee in her hands.

“Peg—”

“Betty,” she demanded, stopping and looking at him. “I agree that this little fantasy is a bit of a slippery slope for the both of us, but we really must start doing better.” She sat and slid his coffee to him, looking him in eyes pointedly. “Roger.”

Steve nodded, taking the coffee. “Right. Betty,” he paused, the name not rolling off his tongue easily, “I can help with the cooking.”

“And risk someone seeing?” She picked up her fork, face stern. “From this moment on, no matter what, we’re happy newlyweds Roger and Betty Harper. I’m a stay-at-home wife who loves to knit and worked in a bullet factory during the war, you’re a veteran and you do figures at an accounting firm in the city. Perfect little wife, doting husband. Suburban life to a ridiculous, stereotypical T, got it?”

He held out his hand and she took it, looking at her plate rather than at him. “Hey,” he waited until she lifted her eyes. “I was just enjoying it too much. I know our cover. I’m in this one hundred percent, okay?”

Peggy held his hand and squeezed lightly, the smile returning to her face. “Yes, dear.”

~*~

By mid-morning they’d had five of the neighboring wives stop in to introduce themselves. Most were kind, young, gregarious and a bit overly excited to get to know them once Steve showed his face.

“You should stay in the kitchen when the next one comes over,” Peggy complained, sitting heavily on their small couch. “I can’t stand another wide-eyed housewife dazzled by your smile.”

Steve laughed, sitting next to her. “There’s only one housewife I want dazzled by my smile.”

Peggy collapsed into his lap, looking up at him. “She’s a little too tired to be dazzled right now. Somehow social pleasantries are more exhausting than the battlefield.” She closed her eyes, letting Steve’s fingers running through her hair lull her into a sense of calm. “Anything on any of the cameras?”

“No,” Steve didn’t slow his movements as his hand combed through her hair. He’d spent his morning when he wasn’t meeting neighbors “working,” keeping an eye on all of the cameras and equipment they’d set up. “So far just people mowing their lawns and taking walks.” She could feel his chuckle. “Not that I expected to see anyone building a bomb in their back yard…”

She reached up a hand, gently hitting him in the chest. “Don’t be flippant about it. Some people are quite stupid.”

The doorbell rang again and Peggy hoisted herself from Steve’s embrace, straightening her dress and forcing a smile on her face. “You look perfect,” Steve reassured.

She huffed, her eyebrows bouncing high on her forehead as she moved to the front door. “Hello?” She asked, her tone changing as she pulled the door open.

Standing across from her was a young woman, similar in age to Peggy, with sharp features and immaculately styled blonde hair. “Oh, hi! I hope I’m not interrupting?” Her Midwest accent was sharp, just a little too bubbly as she held out the dish she was holding. “I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

Peggy swept back, opening her arm. “Please come in. I’m Betty and this is my husband, Roger.”

“Dottie Underwood,” she said quickly, smiling back and forth between the both of them. “I brought you some cookies, I baked them fresh last night, and if I leave them around the house I’m afraid my father just eats them all.”

Peggy carefully took the dish, smiling as she set it down. “They look wonderful, thank you.”

Dottie’s eyes swept around the house, somewhat more intent than a simple curious glance. “You’re quite welcome. How are you settling?”

Steve stood tall, smiling brightly as he moved next to Peggy, gently laying his hand on her back. “Well enough, people have been very kind. I think we’ve met most of the neighborhood by now, haven’t we, honey?”

Peggy giggled, leaning into his side and watching how Dottie tried to keep her smile straight. “Oh, at least the whole street, I’m sure.”

“That’s wonderful.” Dottie smiled brightly. “I was hoping maybe you’d come over for dinner tonight? I live with my father and I’m afraid he doesn’t go out much anymore, but he does enjoy meeting everyone.”

Steve and Peggy shared a short look. To the average person it seemed just a husband and wife consulting one another, to the trained eye, the conversation that happened was much more in-depth and quick. “Well,” Steve replied quickly, “I think we’d be delighted.”

“Oh, that’s just wonderful,” Dottie replied, her smile growing wider, eyes sparkling as she moved toward the door. “I’ll go tell father, he’ll be so pleased.”

Dottie smiled at them, the three standing quietly until Steve nudged Peggy I the back. “Oh, yes, is there anything we can bring?” Peggy asked, trying to hide her forgetfulness with a fluster.

Dottie laughed lightly, moving towards the door. “Just yourselves. Six o’clock, sharp.” She stopped, hand on the knob. “We’re the little blue house, 1013, just on the other side of the street.”

Once she was out, Peggy scooted to the window, watching as Dottie meandered down the driveway and sidewalk, eyes never leaving her until she disappeared into her own home. “Did she strike you as…”

“Trying to hard?” Steve supplied, looking over her shoulder. “Suspicious?”

Peggy turned, looking at him, the agent emerging from the housewife. “Do we have a camera on their house?”

Steve smiled. “Rosebush 3.”

~*~

“What do you mean you invited them over?” Fennhoff bellowed, slamming his fist on the small kitchen table. “What about in hiding do you not understand?”

Dottie rolled her eyes at him, sitting across the table. “Sometimes the best place to hide is out in the open, Papa.” The title dripped from her lips, sarcastic and biting. She pulled the notebook he was scribbling in away, forcing him to look at her. “If we want to fit in, we need to get to know these people, make them want to help and protect the old man and his daughter.”

He grabbed the notebook back. “We should stay inside.”

“You can’t build a new identity by staying inside you helpless oaf.” Dottie stood, pushing away from the table and letting the legs of the chair scrape along the floor. She rounded the small table, leaning over the scientist’s shoulder, eyes dark. “My job is to protect you until Hydra builds itself back up and is ready for you to come back. You trust me, or you get caught. Your call.”

He pursed his lips tight, unhappy. “We should be at their home, going through their things.”

Dottie made a noise in the back of her throat as she rolled her eyes and moved away. “Like I haven’t thought of that.” She moved away, leaning on the kitchen counter. “I’ve already told them you’re unwell. At some point we’ll make your excuses and you can go see what you can find.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I am not the one who is a spy, you are.”

Dottie smiled like a snake, her teeth sharp and gleaming in the light. “You’re whatever I tell you you are until this whole thing is over.”

~*~

Steve looked at the young man across the dinner table, knowing he was lying. As hard as he’d tried to get in the Army, there had been more people trying just as hard, if not harder, to get out of it. “4F you say?”

“Yeah,” Dan from across the street cleared his throat. “Asthma. Wouldn’t let me enlist over a little thing like that.”

Dinner was a strained affair. Steve and Peggy saw upon their arrival that they hadn’t been the only people invited. Dottie has also invited her neighbors, Dan and Laura Smythe, to try to help them get to know people. Though they tried to keep the conversation moving, it was stilted and uncomfortable. Dottie, all smiles, kept trying to shift topics of conversation while her father sat grumpily at the head of the table.

“Beastly affair, that war.” Dottie’s feigned sadness was easy to see through. “It’s how I lost my Earnie.”

Laura wasn’t quite as sharp as Peggy and fell for the faux sadness, letting her hand rest on the woman’s arm. “Your beau?”

“We were engaged,” Dottie continued, sniffling dramatically. “He was a pilot with the 107th, got shot down over enemy territory.”

Steve and Peggy shared a look. There hadn’t been any pilots in the 107th, definitely none named Earnie. A quick glance at the older Underwood revealed nothing. He had no feelings about the loss of the man who supposedly was going to marry his daughter, which struck them both as odd.

Laura, however, was eating it up. “Was he one of the soldier’s that Captain America saved in that amazing rescue? Didn’t he save nearly that whole battalion?”

Dottie shook her head. “No, he was lost just before that, I’m afraid.”

“Well, that didn’t happen, anyway.” Steve said with a bold confidence that made every face turn and look at him.

Peggy’s jaw tightened as she turned to him, putting a hand to his arm. “Darling.”

“No, you know how I feel about this, Betty.” Steve turned and patted her hand, every inch the dismissive husband. “I was out there, fighting for my life, fighting to get back to you, and they parade this guy around in tights on newsreels?”

“Laura and I saw him at one of those USO shows,” Dan started, causing Peggy to squeeze Steve’s arm in concern that their ruse was about to fall apart, “I swear I saw wires. Guy was an actor and a hack.”

“Right?” Steve threw up his hand, nodding appreciatively at the man. “No way he was that strong.”

Laura giggled a bit, leaning towards Dottie. “He was quite handsome, though, don’t you think?”

Dottie, hoping to defuse some of the tension she could feel radiating around the table, just laughed along. “Oh yes, very handsome.” Dottie turned her smile across the table. “Did you ever get to see him, Betty?”

Peggy folded her hands under the table. “Oh, a few times.” She snuck a look at Steve then leaned forward, whispering towards the women though she knew full well everyone could hear her. “Those tights were quite the uniform!”

The women giggled, Dan pressed his lips into a tight line, and Steve had to bite his tongue to keep a straight face. The elder Underwood, for his part, was growing more and more upset.

“That man won them the war,” the elder Underwood grumbled.

“Impossible.” Steve turned to him, almost enjoying the part he was playing. “Hollywood smoke and mirrors. I was out there and I never saw him or that shield. Not once.”

Underwood pushed himself away from the table, his face growing red. “Did you really just insult Captain America in front of me?” He stood, leaning over Peggy and Steve with enough menace that Steve put his arm across Peggy, ready to move her behind him if the man became any more aggressive. “You come into my house and you say these things?”

Steve had been having fun with their plan to insult his alter ego, see if their hosts were sympathetic, showed any leanings to the Axis powers, but this hit home. He knew people had idolized him, and as much as that had made him uncomfortable, he understood how important it was to have a symbol of hope in such a bleak time.

Before Steve could reply and apologize the man stormed off. Dottie stood, stuttering an apology, and followed him into the house.

“Well, I for one am with you,” Dan said, raising his fork and diving back into his dinner. “Man was a fraud.”

Peggy grabbed Steve’s hand under the table and squeezed.

~*~

“What was that back there?” Dottie demanded in a hushed voice once she’d closed the door to Fennhoff’s room behind them.

“Distraction,” he said sharply, his accent becoming more pronounced. “You want distraction, you get distraction.”

Dottie huffed, crossing her arms. “And what am I supposed to tell them now?”

“That your father is a great patriot. That he needs his rest. You say whatever you say while I go pretend to be spy.” Fennhoff waved her away and opened the window in his room, grumbling about how he was supposed to slip out. “Lock the door.”

~*~

Steve stood as Dottie joined them back at the table. “I should go apologize.”

“No, no,” Dottie shooed him back to his seat. “My father gets grumpy sometimes. He just needed to take his pills and lay down for a spell.” She sat herself back down and laid her napkin on her lap with deliberate flair. “It’ll all be forgotten after a quick nap, I promise.”

“Still, I’d feel better if I could,” Steve reluctantly sat, rearranging his own napkin.

“I’m sure he’ll be back out in a bit.” She smiled widely, a motion that did not reach her eyes. “He just never misses dessert!”

~*~

Anyone fluent in Russian would have been scandalized at the string of words coming from Fennhoff’s lips as he snuck into the back of the Harper home.

“Don’t even lock their doors,” Fennhoff mumbled as he slipped in their back door. He moved carefully through the dark kitchen, futilely opening and closing cabinets. He did not expect to find anything in the home of that vapid man who didn’t believe Captain America was real.

He’d seen the damage that man could do with his own eyes. Anyone who believed Captain America hadn’t won the war for the Allied forces was either dimwitted, a fool, or both.

He tried to stay quiet as he moved through the house, but there wasn’t much light and even less to see that was interesting. The house was only sparsely decorated with few, if any, places to hide things. He made his rounds quickly, opening and closing closets and doors and saw nothing that would make him think these people were anything other than what they said they were: boring American suburbanites.

He stopped on his way out and opened the small broom closet he’d neglected on the way in, sighing when there was nothing more than a broom, mop, and bucket there.

“Dumb woman spy,” he mumbled, letting himself out quietly.

~*~

“Next time we’ll have you over,” Peggy said, holding both of Dottie’s hands at the door. “Dinner was simply marvelous.”

“Oh, shucks,” Dottie took one hand to bat the compliment away. “It was so lovely to get to know you and welcome you to the neighborhood.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth crooked up sadly. “Please give my apologies to your father.”

“No need,” she reached out, stroking Steve’s shoulder in a motion that was just slightly more than neighborly. “He’s a stubborn old man and you are a great war hero, Mr. Harper. You’re allowed a difference of opinion, especially since you were there.”

“All the same,” Steve stepped back out of her reach, taking Peggy’s hand and moving away. He felt like if he didn’t escape, they’d be exchanging pleasantries all night. “Have a great night.”

“You too!” Dottie called, watching from the door as they turned.

Steve pressed his hand to Peggy’s back, pushing her down the pavement just a little faster. “She’s still watching,” he mumbled. “Gosh, such lovely neighbors around here, don’t you think, honey?” he let his voice drift louder.

“Absolutely, darling. I’m so excited to get to know them all. Maybe join the Women’s Auxiliary.” Peggy leaned closer to Steve, her voice lower now, “Is she still watching? My face hurts from smiling.”

“Few more feet, dear,” he whispered. He leaned down, “I think Dan and Laura are out there now,” he pointed to his ear, signaling he could hear them talking, “Want to give them a show?”

Peggy raised her eyebrow, the false suburban smile she’d been sporting morphing into a smirk he was much more used to seeing on her face. “Show?”

He led her up the steps, stopping to dig the keys out of his pocket. Once he did, he reached out and unlocked the door, pushing it open. Before she could step in, he swept her off her feet, carrying her like she was a brand-new bride. Peggy squeaked, grabbing on to his shoulders more out of surprise than fear that he would drop her on the front porch.

She laughed. “This is what you had in mind?”

He leaned forward, kissing her gently. “Gotta sell that newlywed cover,” he whispered against her lips. “They watching?”

Peggy shifted her head as he turned them a bit, his lips on hers again. Peggy squinted, making it look like her eyes were closed. She didn’t normally like to do double duty while Steve was kissing her, but he managed to avoid distracting her too badly. She could see the Smythe’s and Dottie on the porch, eyes glues to them. From the window, the elder Underwood peaked out. Peggy dragged her lips away. “All watching. And slightly scandalized.”

“They’ll be very scandalized in a minute,” he mumbled, kissing down her neck.

Peggy hit him playfully in the shoulder. “Barbarian!” She laughed as he growled in her ear. “Inside at once!” She kicked a bit as he straightened up, laughing as he bounced her in his arms. Steve made a show of almost losing his balance and nearly dropping her as he stepped over the threshold for their audience. For good measure he kicked the door closed, wishing he could see all of their faces.

He’d absolutely go back and check the surveillance tapes just to see what they looked like.

He turned, putting Peggy down and pressing her up against the door, letting his lips meet hers again. “That was fun.”

She hummed happily, but pushed him away. “Quite, but we still have work to do.” She moved past him, then stopped as she flipped on the light. She held out her hand, then pointed. “And you made fun of me for vacuuming us out before we left.”

“You were wearing pearls and an evening dress.” Steve pointed out, bending low to look at the fresh footprints that showed against the new, freshly cleaned nap of the carpet. “What do you think?”

“Man’s shoe, fairly large.” Peggy moved around, following the path. “Came from the kitchen, so… in through the back door.”

“Looks like he took a peek in each room,” Steve added, opening the doors and following the trail, “then back through the kitchen to go out.”

“You think they found…” Peggy started, but didn’t finish, following Steve into the kitchen and watching as he opened the closet door.

“Doubt it, everything’s exactly as I left it, including that little bit of flour by the wall.” He smiled up at her, trying to show off the tricks he’d slowly been learning from her since they’d been working together stateside. He warmed at bit at her smile, then moved the mop, broom, and bucket. With a firm push to one side of the back wall, it spun, sweeping the flour on the floor into a wide, tell-tale circle and revealing that the closet was actually three times the size, hiding a small bank of monitors and recording equipment. “Shall we?”

They both slipped in the small space, Steve on the stool he occupied for most of the day while surveilling, Peggy peering over his shoulder as he found the reel trained on their back door and rolled it back. It was fuzzy in the darkness, but the figure creeping through their rosebushes seemed quite familiar. “Is that Underwood?” Peggy asked, waiting for Steve to roll the tape back and forth until they had a fairly clear picture.

“Looks like it,” Steve mumbled, marking down the time and reel for future reference. “What do you think he’s looking for?”

“Same as we are,” Peggy said quietly, slipping from the closet to lean on the door jamb. “If they’re in hiding, they’re looking out for anyone wanting to find them.”

Steve reloaded some of the reels, marking others and setting the film aside to review tomorrow. Peggy watched him work, smiling as he rolled up his sleeves, concentration fully on his task. She leaned on the doorway, slipping off her heels and content to just be for the moment. Steve slipped out of the hidden space, pushing the fake wall back in place and sweeping the flour back into an indistinguishable line along the bottom of the wall.

“Do you think it will be like this?” Peggy mused, watching as he ran a damp cloth along the visible floor of the closet, hiding the existence of the flour even further to sell their ruse.

“Do I think what will be like what?” Steve asked, standing and laying the wet dishcloth over the back of a chair to dry.

Peggy bounced over to him on her toes, hands holding her heels behind her back, hips swaying and swinging her skirt around her in a manner that was much more carefree than Steve had seen her in a long time. “Do you think our marriage will be like this? Domestic bliss and snogging against the front door one minute and international espionage the next?”

Steve tilted his head, his forehead creasing in thought as he wrapped his arms around her. “You know, it probably will. Though I’d like to say we’ll need much less surveillance at our house.”

“Our house…” she mused, smiling widely. “Kind of thrilling, isn’t it?” Peggy wrapped her arms around him with a sly smile, heels still dangling from her fingers.

His brows knit together for just a brief moment, the concern replaced by amusement on his face. “I don’t think life with you will ever be boring, dear.” He leaned down, kissing her gently.

Peggy leaned back, eyes still closed, a smile on her lips. She blinked her eyes open, half lidded and dreamy. “What say you to pushing the beds together tonight, Mr. Harper?”

He kissed her again, nipping at her bottom lip. “Sounds like an excellent idea to me.” Without warning, Steve bent his knees, grabbing behind her thighs and lifting her up.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, a sly smile on her face. “You enjoy showing off like that, don’t you?”

“For you?” His smile lit up his face. “Absolutely.”

Her face went blank, her eyes darting around the room as if people were there that might overhear her. “Small confession.” She leaned close to him, eyes sincere. “If, tomorrow, you woke up and were that 98 pound asthmatic man I first met, I’d love you all the same. But, and I’ll deny this until the day I die to anyone else,” her eyes grew mischievous, “I like it when you show off very much. Please don’t ever stop.”

He laughed, full and hearty, as he started to move toward the bedroom. Peggy bounced her heel off his lower back, trying to turn him like a horse. “Ah! Back, soldier. We’ve got doors to lock!”

Steve laughed, turning back and shifting her to his hip so he could see and secure the house without having to put her down. “Yes, ma’am!”

~*~

“They are not spies,” Fennhoff insisted, pushing past Dottie.

She shook her head, closing the cabinet door with more force than necessary. The kitchen was still in a state from the dinner party and as usual she was left to clean everything up. “I’m telling you, you’re wrong. You just didn’t know where to look.”

The man grumbled and disappeared down the hall, the sound of his bedroom door slamming and locking echoing through the house.

~*~

The morning sun was bright coming through the front room’s picture window. Steve squinted as he stepped up behind Peggy, wrapping one arm around her waist as his other hand wound around her to offer her the cup of tea he held. “A little sunny, isn’t it?”

She hummed in agreement as she took and sipped her tea, her eyes never leaving the street where they were staring intently. “See that tabby?”

He followed her line of sight, things clearer as he got used to the brightness, to the small grey cat bouncing up and down the curb across the street outside of Dottie’s house. “I mean, it’s cute, but I don’t think right now is the best time to get a pet, Betty.” A soft humor infused his voice, knowing that Peggy’s plans were far past pets as she stayed intent on the creature.

“Hum, maybe not. But nevertheless, it’s been in and out of our yard, too, and I’ve noticed it doesn’t have a collar.” She let her free hand run over the arm around her waist. “What’s the range on those bugs Howard gave us?”

“With a direct line of sight, 100 yards.” He shrugged, thinking. “Obscured? Maybe 50. Could be more or less depending on what’s between us and it.” He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her soft scent before pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You have a plan.”

She turned and smiled at him. “I have a plan.”

~*~

It started with a small saucer of milk late that morning. Peggy left it on the front stoop and spent a little while just sitting outside next to it, waving at neighbors and smiling. “You haven’t seen that little grey tabby, have you?” she would ask each passing person, concern all over her face, “I got a glimpse of him this morning and I could have sworn he was limping!”

By the afternoon, Steve was trying very hard to keep a straight face as he helped her “search” for the cat in their yard.

Just before dinner, Peggy palmed the small listening device, a thin disk that was barely the size of a quarter, and headed across the street, making tiny whispering and clicking noises, eyes, wide and sad.

Laura Smythe popped her head out of her kitchen window as Peggy knelt next to the storm drain between their house and Dottie’s. “Betty? Are you ok?”

“Oh, fine, Laura!” She stood and waved, her face tight. “I just could have sworn I saw that little grey stray cat and it was limping. I just want to make sure the poor thing is okay.” She huffed and stood, straightening her skirt. “Have you seen him?”

Laura shook her head. “Not since yesterday.” She smiled at Peggy. “So sweet of you to want to try to help him.”

“Well thanks, I—oh!” Peggy turned, eyes set on Dottie’s front yard. With a fake wobble in her heels, she was more adept in running in them than she’d like everyone to know, she darted towards the azalea bush and stopped short. She smiled back at Laura, “I think I’ve got him!” With a smile that had nothing to do with a cat, Peggy pushed her way into the bush and along the front side of the house. She made some noise, swished the plant a few times, and smiled to herself. It was going perfectly.

Dottie was on her porch before Peggy could even catch her breath from the run over, voice loud. “Goodness, Betty, what are you doing?” She demanded, incensed.

Peggy stood, using the ledge of the window to haul herself up and the exaggerated surprise she feigned to hide how she set the small bug in the corner of the sill and the window. “Oh! Dottie I hope I didn’t startle you!”

Dottie, less neighborly than yesterday, started at her. “You did, Betty. Why are you in my bushes?”

Peggy dropped her head, shaking it sadly. “Oh, I just saw that poor neighborhood cat limping this morning and I’ve been trying to get my hands on him and see if he was ok. I could have sworn I saw him over here!” Peggy looked around herself, as if she was just noticing what a mess she made. “Oh, goodness, what have I done? I just don’t think sometimes!”

Dottie couldn’t hide the suspicion on her face, but stepped down and offered Peggy her hand. “Let me help you out.”

“Oh, I am so sorry! Your beautiful flowers!” Peggy brushed the leaves and petals from her dress and gestured towards the slightly rumpled bush. “I’ll pay for any damages, I am so, so very sorry.”

“No need,” Dottie said coolly, her smile never reaching her eyes. “I never liked that one anyway.”

~*~

Steve was still laughing when she made her way back into the house. She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t deny that it must have looked a sight. “You almost done?” She crossed her arms, trying to hide her smile as she leaned against the counter.

He was still catching his breath as he emerged from his small control center in the broom closet, hand pressed to his chest. “Oh… oh that was priceless.”

She eyed him as he moved closer, leaning his hands on the counter on either side of her and looming with a bright smile on his face. Peggy rested her hand on his shoulders, enjoying the closeness. “Yes, but did it work?”

He nodded, reaching up with one hand and picking leaves and petals from her hair. He picked the last one and held the pink petal up for her to see. “It did. Not the clearest sound, but good enough.” He kissed her quickly, a peck full of pride and happiness. “You’re brilliant.”

“Why, thank you,” she replied happily, lifting up on her toes for another brief kiss before she ducked away under his arm. “Then you’re making dinner. I’m simply exhausted from looking for that cat all day!”

~*~

The chatter from the Underwood residence was tinny and quiet, but there wasn’t much to expect from the small transmitter. It did its job and Steve and Peggy could hear clear enough the woman and her father bickering in half sentences. Anytime they were in the back of the house they were out of range, but the front room and kitchen came in clear enough.

“They know they’re being monitored,” Peggy sighed, pulling off her headphones. Dottie’s tone had been harsh and clipped, and more than once her “father” had stopped short mid-sentence, either because he didn’t want to keep talking or because Dottie wanted him stopped.

Steve pulled off his own headphones and leaned back. He tried to stretch but his arms hit the wall of the small closet. “You’re right. They’re far too close lipped.”

“And the language is not nearly familiar enough to be father and daughter,” Peggy muttered, scooting to the side and leaning back onto Steve’s shoulder. His arm would around her immediately, stroking over her upper arm. “I’m not sold that they’re who we’re looking for, but I know they’re not who they say they are.”

Steve tipped his head into hers, cuddling close for a second. “What do you think? Time to turn in?”

She nodded against him “They’ll still be there tomorrow, I suppose.”

~*~

Peggy snuck out of her bed, tiptoeing as she picked up her robe and slippers, trying to avoid waking Steve in the middle of the night.

“Peg?” he murmured, turning.

She stopped, shifting her load to one hand to push his hair out of his eyes with the other as she bent by his bed. “Can’t sleep. Just getting some water.”

He hummed as her fingers moved over his cheek, catching her hand in his and turning his head to kiss her palm. “Don’t be long. You need to rest.”

She smiled as his eyes fluttered closed, sleep already pulling him back. “I’ll do my best, darling.”

Peggy slipped through the bedroom door, closing it behind her before wrapping herself in the robe and putting the slippers on her feet. There was a chill in the air, enough to make her wrap her arms around herself as she moved through the living room and to the kitchen.

She didn’t bother with the lights, the moonlight through the windows was enough to see by. She’d been lying in bed for hours, her mind running over scenarios of who the mysterious “father” and “daughter” team across the street could really be. She quietly opened the refrigerator, pulling out the orange juice. She filled the first glass she found and slipped the bottle back, sitting at the table in the darkness. She’d been expecting to find a man named Fennhoff masquerading as a widower. They didn’t know much about him, never mind what he looked like, but the presence of Dottie was baffling to her. The woman was suspicious and sharp, and deep inside Peggy thought she was smarter than she let on.

Peggy sipped her juice, not really wanting it but needing something to do with her hands. She thought about slipping back into the little closet, reviewing the tapes for the night, but decided against it. She needed to shut off her mind, quiet it, not rile it up. She needed rest so she could figure out what their next step would be. Steve was good, and getting better every day, but his real expertise was on the battlefield, not as a spy, and he still deferred to her in almost all matters for missions. She needed to be ready with a new plan by the time the alarm clock went off in the morning.

She wasn’t sure how long she was sitting in the dark, letting her mind wander, before she heard it: soft, crunching footsteps in the backyard. She lifted her glass and slowly made her way to behind the counter, crouched low and waiting. She didn’t have much of an advantage, but the juice would at least sting enough to give her the element of surprise.

Peggy steeled herself as she heard the doorknob slowly turn, the person jiggling it gently to confirm the lock was thrown. She slowed her breathing, mind clear and ready for anything as she heard the soft click of lock picks and the tumblers moving in place. The door opened almost silently, a small figure slipping in based on the shadow Peggy could see along the wall.

The person slipped in, looking quietly around the room. Peggy held her breath, waiting as the footsteps got closer, waiting for the person to be just close enough.

Without thought she stood, tossing the juice towards the intruder.

Dottie Underwood screeched as the acidic juice burned her eyes, stumbling back.

Peggy pressed forward, pushing her against the cabinets with both hands. She knew the rattle was loud enough to wake Steve and that he’d be there to back her up any moment. “What are you doing here?”

Dottie, eyes red and blinking furiously, took only a second to choose between lying and the truth. Truth, though, didn’t quite come with words. Instead, she threw her head forward, connecting her forehead with Peggy’s with a sickening crack. Peggy stumbled back, but had the advantage of knowing exactly where everything was in the kitchen. She didn’t need to look to get the pan from the stove, sitting and waiting for breakfast to be cooked up in a few hours, and swing it around.

Dottie threw a hand up just in time to keep the pan from connecting with her skull, and grabbed Peggy’s arm with her free one, grappling and forcing her to drop the pan with a clatter.

“Who are you?” Peggy ground out between her teeth, grabbing a fistful of hair and using that to hold Dottie in her frame of vision.

Dottie countered with a leg sweep, sending Peggy toppling over and off her feet. Peggy didn’t let go, though, and Dottie went down with her, landing them both between the island and the counter. “Just a concerned neighbor,” Dottie managed to huff out, pushing with her legs to try to get the upper hand and roll on top of Peggy. “Thought I saw a robber.”

“How kind,” Peggy grunted, managing to get her hand on a corner of the cabinet and use the leverage to get a leg out so she could knee the woman in the chest. Dottie lost her breath, leaving room for Peggy to pounce once again as she stumbled to stand and move away from her. Peggy started to move towards her again just as Steve rushed through the door of the kitchen, eyes wide and in nothing more than his pajama pants.

Steve’s arrival somewhat stymied Dottie. She paused, still trying to catch her breath, with Peggy huffing beside her. Steve looked between the two women and Peggy stared at him, disbelief in her eyes. “Her, please!”

Steve snatched Dottie around the waist and lifted her off her feet, keeping his head away from her flailing arms as she struggled. Peggy pulled the tie from her robe, using it to secure her hands behind her back once Steve had set her in one of the kitchen chairs.

“Still plan on sticking to your story,” Peggy huffed, sitting across from her as Steve stood guard, “or are you going to tell us what we need to know?”

Dottie smiled like a shark, her red, tearing eyes fighting the visual she wanted to present. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Peggy and Steve shared a look, and without a word he slipped out of the kitchen, headed back to the bedroom.

Dottie watched as he returned only moments later with a shirt and shoes to go with the pants, and a very brightly painted shield on his arm. He stepped in the kitchen and handed Peggy her gun before he disappeared out the front door.

Dottie winced; her eyes painful. “Betty, is it? Are you two even married?”

“Does it matter?” Peggy asked pragmatically, rounding the woman and checking her bindings. “I think what matters here is that you’re hiding something and I’d very much like to know what it is.”

“Do you have twin beds? Or just one big bed?” Dottie asked dreamily. “If I could have that in my bed…” she hummed, the salacious tone somewhat ineffective when combined with her sniffles.

“Are you here on behalf of Hydra?” Peggy asked, picking up a towel and mopping the orange juice from the floor.

Dottie continued rambling. “I mean, that’s one hundred percent American beefcake right there. USDA Prime. And strong.” She sighed happily. “When he picked me up… mmm mmm mmm.”

Peggy rolled her eyes behind the woman, picking the pan from the floor. “What about that man you’re with?”

“Oh, he’s about to have his day ruined.” Dottie laughed manically. “You see, when that Greek God of a man of yours riled him up about Captain America, he wasn’t lying. He gets riled up. Mostly because he hates him so much.” She laughed again. “When he wakes up and sees that shield over him… oh, he might just have a heart attack.”

Peggy checked the robe tie as she passed again, knowing it was hardly enough to secure someone who knew what they were doing before she opened the broom closet and pushed out the fake wall. “Last chance to give me anything before I throw you to the wolves.”

Dottie just sat, head held high, eyes still watering.

“Have it your way.” Peggy reached in and pulled out a beacon, tapping it twice. “The cavalry will be here shortly.”

~*~

Steve didn’t exactly feel fantastic about waking the old man up, but when he started cursing in Russian at him and pulled a gun from under his pillow, Steve reassessed his position.

He still felt bad when he had to knock him out though.

~*~

Peggy stood at the doorway, watching the rest of the SSR team pack the surveillance equipment away and hurry the rented furniture back in the truck as the forensics team was going over Dottie’s house. Dottie was safely in custody and Peggy would be interrogating her tomorrow at the SSR when everything was back to normal. It had been only four days since they moved in, but Peggy could admit, at least to herself, that she’d enjoyed playing house.

Steve came up behind her, his hands still at his sides rather than at her hips. They’d set clear ground rules when it came to the office and the SSR, and that meant no touching in front of co-workers. The absence of his hands when he was so close was causing the hairs on her arms to stand at attention. “What do you think about suburbia?” she questioned lightly, though it weighed heavily on her mind.

“Well, when there aren’t sleeper Hydra Agents hiding in it, it seems pleasant enough to me.” He shrugged, leaning on the doorjamb to look at her. “I grew up in the city, but I’m not attached to that as some idyllic idea of what life should be. Might be nice to have a little garden, some grass to cut, a front yard to build a snowman in and rake leaves…”

Peggy jutted her chin out the to Smythe house, where, like everyone else on the street, Dan and Laura were looking out the window, trying to get every bit of gossip they could. “Neighbors being neighborly.”

Steve dropped his voice. “I think we’d do well in someplace like this.”

Peggy smiled up at him before turning back to the men in the yard. “Agreed.”

“It should be bigger, though, to make room for the kids.” He nudged her with his elbow, a smile threatening to break out on his face. “Four, at least.”

Peggy raised her eyebrows at him. “Two.”

“Only two?” He asked, partially teasing and partially actually let down.

Peggy turned so the men in the yard couldn’t see or hear what she was saying. “Will you be popping them out then? Because until you are, I think the person actually carrying the children should have her opinion weighed slightly more.”

He nodded, eyebrows together tightly. “Point taken.”

She stepped closer, nudging him with her shoulder. “Perhaps we start with one, and see how we do, hum?” She pushed past him, the bump intentional and flirty. “Besides, I’m still waiting on that ring.”

Steve smiled out at the front yard, shoving his hands in his pockets. Good thing the ring was sitting back in his apartment in the top drawer of his dresser. Seeing as this little test run had gone well, maybe he’d pop the question sooner rather than later.

Domestic bliss and international espionage… Steve couldn’t think of anything he’d like more.

#steggy secret santa #Steggy Bingo Bash #superhero-daugthers11 #Steggy Fic #3P's Fic

[bidoldaccount]

Erase All The Downsides - TWO

Word Count: 1,545

Warnings: there is a sexual scene between Dean and Lisa wherein Dean does not express his discomfort and ultimately has some negative, potentially triggering feelings. I will out a note before that scene begins. 

Intro ; ONE ;

"Dean!" The shout made him flinch. He looked up from his phone, everything slightly blurry before he focused in on who said his name. Lisa was staring at him, chuckling softly at his disorientation.

"Sorry, what?" He rubbed at his eyes, shutting his phone off.

"I asked what we should do for dinner. Sam and Jess wanted to check out that Italian place downtown, but I know you're a bit wiped from the event and the song writing, so I suggested we just do dinner here," she said.

"Yeah, here sounds good. I'll um, fire up the barbeque? We can cook those hamburgers sitting in the fridge?" He asked.

"Oo, I always love seeing you behind that thing, looking all manly and whatnot," she stood up from the couch and kissed his forehead. "I'll prep the sides like a little housewife, how domestic of us," she laughed. He forced a laugh of his own but his eyes fell shut tiredly. He didn't get up for a few more seconds, just listening to Lisa greeting Jess on the phone as she started pulling things out for a salad. He only knew because she was asking Jess which dressing she should use.

Dean pulled himself up from the couch with a grunt, shuffling his way into the kitchen to get the hamburger meat out of the fridge. He prepped it quickly, seasoning it the way he always does, adding a little less paprika because Lisa had said he put too much last time. She was right, Sam had scrunched his nose too, then again they both think Hot Cheetos are spicy. He puts a dash more then mix it all together to start forming the patties.

Sam and Jess showed up as he was flipping the first batch and popping open his second beer.

"Hey man, Jess insisted on bringing wine even though they're the ones who drink it," Sam said with a sarcastically wide smile as he held up the bottle.

"Yeah, because after two glasses, your jokes start to get funnier," Jess teased as she took the bottle from him. He swatted her as she passed, making her laugh. Sam rolled his eyes fondly as he joined Dean in the backyard.

"What's up, I haven't seen you much since the event. You doing okay?" He asked, leaning against the table as Dean fiddled uselessly with the patties on the tray.

"Yeah, I'm good, why?" He asked casually, even as he refused to meet Sam's eyes.

"Dude, Castiel was onstage for thirty minutes and the entire time you looked like you could actually breathe. I saw the effect she still has on you, so you want to talk about it or do you want me to pretend I didn't see it?" He asked. Dean sighed, swallowing as he turned his body towards Sam, feeling too vulnerable in the fact that he is so easy for the people around him to read.

"What do you want me to say? It doesn't change anything," he said.

"Why not?" Sam pushed. "You were so in love with her and she helped you so much, you're telling me that there is not a single part of you that wants that back?

"Nope," Dean shrugged, keeping his eyes glued to the grill.

"You're bullshitting me, and you know it. Look, man, I love Lisa, okay? She's awesome, but you two are so different. You can't give each other what you both need, and that's okay. I'm sure she'd understand if you just explained it, so why don't you?"

"Because I have a life already. I have a girlfriend inside right now prepping a stupid side salad with a very carefully picked out dressing. I have a house and a dog, and I'm being the dutiful man of the house by cooking burgers. It doesn't change shit, Sam," he said, turning away from Sam and back towards the barbeque. "This is what I'm supposed to be, this is what I'm supposed to do, so, just, leave it alone," he added with a stubborn flare.

"Alright, I'll back off, but I want you to know that there is nothing more important than your well being and your happiness," Sam said. "With that being said, let me take over while you go grab me a beer because I am not stepping into that house again before those girls have at least a full glass of wine. They're mean when they're together," Sam shivers dramatically as he takes the spatula from Dean's hand. Dean chuckled and the tension in his shoulders relaxed with the change in topic.

"Yeah," he relinquishes control of the grill and heads inside, following the sound of laughter. Jess is standing by the counter, cutting olives in half while slowly sipping from a wine glass. Lisa is chopping romaine hearts and tossing them into a strainer to rinse. Dean passes without interrupting their conversation, grabbing two beers from the fridge.

"Don't drink that entire bottle before dinner," Dean teases with a more relaxed smile.

"Or what? You'll spank me?" Lisa grins over her shoulder. Her and Jess erupt in laughter, and Dean forces himself to chuckle as his jaw clenches and his stomach turns itself on its side. He hides his emotions a lot better when he walks outside. He masks the discomfort in his steps and he starts talking about the new show he and Lisa have become invested in due to Sam's suggestion. He started ranting about his own thoughts and theories, and Dean threw himself into the conversation head first.

Lisa and Jess polish off a bottle and a half of wine, giggling and bantering all through dinner. Dean switches to whiskey at one point and manages to smile and laugh after one glass. He's almost proud when Sam stops throwing hidden glances his way. He's almost proud that he has masked his emotions well enough that Sam thinks he's had a great time. He argues when Sam says the hamburgers are too spicy, banters when Lisa agrees, and high fives Jess when she says they're perfect. They wave them away with leftovers and the promise of doing it against soon.

warning: Sexual content and internal trauma 

Lisa sighs happily when they're gone and stretches her arms above her head with a tipsy smile. They clean up listening to music, Lisa dances and brushes up against him as they wash dishes. He smiles lazily at her, trying to lose himself in the swivel of her hips and the taste of wine in her kiss. He puts all of his concentration onto the taste of her skin when they fall into bed, listening to the hitch in her breath and the rasp in her moan when he sucks on her neck. Her legs are tiny under his palm and she scratches against his back when he grinds against her.

The room is cold and Dean wants to get under the covers, maybe take his time, just acquaint himself with her, but Lisa is half drunk and impatient. She undresses herself, wiggling her hips and teasing at the waistband of her panties from beneath him. She's waiting for his approval, he can tell, he knows that she's putting on a show for him, so he obliges. He presses heated compliments into her skin, his fingers pressing down against the silky material of her undergarments. They're so soft and warm that it nearly makes his head fuzzy, then she was tugging him up and flipping him over to straddle him. She kisses him hard and messy as she shoves her panties off, pawing at his boxers until he's kicking them down his legs.

Her fingers bite at his chest as she rides him, her head thrown back in bliss. Then she's looking down at him with something wild and heated in her eyes.

"Spank me." It throws him off, it makes his head reel. She's still bouncing on him, her nails painful on his skin as she repeats herself. Dean closes his eyes as his stomach drops. He swats her ass once and she gasps, a wide, pleased smile taking over her lips. "Harder." He does. He spanks her a handful of times before she's screaming and losing rhythm. She scrambles and her legs shake and she gasps before slumping forward.

"You want me to suck you off?" She asks once her breath returns to her.

"No, I think I drank too much," he said. She nods understandingly, kissing him a few more times before falling onto the bed beside him. He doesn't realize that he is shaking until he turns onto his side and tries to sink into the blankets. His teeth would be chattering if he wasn't clenching his jaw so hard. He curled into himself, clenching his hands hard into the blanket. He sits up enough to slip his boxers back on, everything touching his skin feels like it might tear it off.

"Cuddle me," Lisa sleepily demands, reaching back for him. He rolls over to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She presses back against him, her bare skin rubbing against his. Before she settles, he slips the blankets between them, barricading his delicate flesh from hers. A tear stains the pillow beneath his head before he finally relaxes enough to sleep.

#Dean winchester #castiel #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fic rec #Lisa Braeden #smut #potentially triggering #notes of trauma #eventual destiel #female castiel

[vamplu]

Chapter 1:

“Sorry, I’m not interested. It’s clear to me you have plenty of loyal bitches already.”, the girl scoffed at the tall man trying to “pick her up”, “Besides you’re not my type at all.”. “Aw c’mon. Don’t be a tsundere~”, the man Chikage Rokujou said with a wink. “Yeah no, sorry. I have more important things to do than sit around with some womanizing scum.”, the girl shot back, “And also, let me know if any of these girls aren’t in high school.”.  She began to walk away, heading to her job’s location, a maid cafe in Ikebukuro.  She thought about how much men sucked, all the way from her father, to her “fiance”, to the random men on the streets. Her only safe haven was the maid cafe’s owner, an old woman who’d started it for fun, Amai Fukiro. All the girls called her “Grandma”, though. She was wise, kind, and well old. A perfect grandmother figure. The other girls, however, were jerks. As Hanako opened the door, she heard the bell ding, and the cheery call of her co-worker, a fellow high schooler, Sakura, “Afternoon, Hanako-San!”. “Please drop the ‘san’. I’m only a year older than you.”, Hanako replied, cringing. She was a third year at Raira Academy, being eighteen years old, and the younger girl always called her “Hanako-San”, which only added to Hanako’s stress about what would be happening when she graduated. A domestic life was the scariest thing about her future. She walked to the employee locker room, and changed into the maid costume, and walked back to Sakura. “We go on in three minutes, once the other guy’s shifts end.”, Sakura reminded. Hanako nodded, “You ready?”. Sakura nodded happily. Hanako cracked a small smile, “You’re adorable, y’know?”. Sakura’s cheeks tinted light pink, and she shook her head. Hanako returned her attention to the door that led into the main part of the cafe. Sudden;y, Sakura piped up with a question that startled Hanako. “A-are you… in the Dollars?”, she asked nervously. “That gang?”, Hanako asked, confused. “Yeah… just wondering.”. “I’m not.”. “Ah ok.”. “Why?”. “I just thought that y’know, someone as cool as you would be in something cool like the Dollars.”. Hanako laughed, “I’m not cool, and neither are the Dollars. Gangs aren’t cool. They may seem like it, but they really aren’t.”. “I know but still… being without rules or guidelines, or even a leader? They seem so… well, cool!”, Sakura gushed, and turned her face to Hanako.  “Rules and guidelines keep the world functioning, leaders guide people away from mistakes in principle.”, Hanako replied, though she didn’t mean it. She hated all the rules she had to follow.  “I know but still… chaos is kinda fun!”, Sakura giggled. “Chaos is not ‘kinda fun’. I can’t tell you what to or to not do but please, think about the effects before you take any leaps of faith and dive into anything remotely illegal. It ruins lives, you know.”, Hanako said, grabbing the girl’s hands and looking into her eyes, “You don’t want to wind up in jail, pregnant, or with a criminal record.”. “Pregnant? What part of the Dollars makes you think I’ll get knocked up?!!”, Sakura exclaimed. “Nothing… just something I saw earlier. My bad.”. Sakura blushed and looked down. Hanako released the girl’s pale wrists, “Anyways, please don’t do anything illegal.”. “I didn’t ever say I was going to join the Dollars, Hanako-San.”. “I can see in your eyes you’re thinking about it.”. “I forgot you can read me like an open book.”, Sakura giggled, “And I’m still thinking about it, nothing’s set in stone.”. Hanako nodded, and bit her lip. How much she wished she could be in the Dollars, free. She wanted to be like the Headless Rider, a free spirit that did what was good. She also wanted to bike like it did. She’d seen it once, for a moment, and her vision and dreams were captured, whether or not they could come true. Three girls came rushing in, and sighed, “Your turn. Good luck, it’s a riot out there. There’s a group of four with endless stomachs and two otakus. Some sort of party.”. “Thank you Rio, we’ll do our best.”, Sakura replied with a smile. “Yeah, yeah.”, Rio said, “Now get out there.”. Sakura and Hanako rushed out, and were greeted with various regulars, and a group of four people, in their late teens and early twenties, who sat by the window chatting away.  “I can handle them if you can get the frequents.”, Hanako whispered, and Sakura nodded, looking relieved. Sakura was good with people older than her, not so much people her age. Hanako walked over with a smile painted onto her face, and asked sweetly, “Hello!~ My name is Hanako, and I’ll be your server today! What can I get you to drink?”. “I’ll have some of the cat coffee!”, a girl in a long black dress said, her hair covered for the most part by a black hat. “Alright!”. “I’ll have water.”, a level headed guy said, his slicked back black hair was under a black do-rag. “Mhm!~”. “I’ll have the green tea.”, a man with shoulder length brown hair said. Hanako nodded, and turned to the final customer, a boy with light brown hair. “I can’t pick between the sakura blossom tea, or the cat coffee…”, he said, “What would you get?”. “Well it depends. If I’m sleepy, sad, or angry, I’d get the cat coffee. I’d pick the sakura blossom tea if I was calm or relaxed.”, Hanako said, “The cat coffee is more chocolatey, and the Sakura Tea has a distinct tea-like taste.”.  “Hmmm….”, the boy said, “I think I’ll go for the cat coffee, in that case. I want something sweet.”. “I’ll have those right out!”, Hanako smiled.  

    Finally out of that damn dress, Hanako thought, retrieving her cell phone from her pocket, and reading her messages, which only bored her further. She was supposed to go home after work, but she wanted to see the sakura trees in the park, as it was spring, and they were in full bloom. She hoped she’d get to see the Headless Rider, or something cool. Maybe then her mundane life would be a little more interesting. She was so sick of the same cycle she went through everyday. School, then work, the straight home for homework and studying. Sometimes she was able to watch TV, if she got done with all her assignments by 10, her curfew. Hanako knew she’d be in trouble when she got back home late, but she couldn’t care anymore. When was she not in trouble? At this point her father was more mad at her than not, and her mother was in America, like always, working at her fashion company. She had finally made it to the fountain, in the center of the park, to which she sat on. She pulled the book she’d been reading out of her bag, and silently read it. It was about “How to Live Life Like You Want”, another inspirational book her mother had given to her. She thought it was a sign from Mom, that maybe she should break out of the mundane, but had quickly written out the thought. Mother wanted her to marry Makoto  just as much as her father did, for the same reasons too. Money, power, and title. The three things that fueled all of her parents decisions on her behalf.  She’d be forced to forfeit free will for as long as she could remember. Makato was… nice, but when you’re forced to marry someone, you only see their flaws. He was quick to anger, and spoiled. He didn’t know suffering, and she supposed she didn’t either, but it doesn’t make her any less resentful of him. He was never yelled at, didn’t have to work for his good grades, and did horse-back riding. He was annoyingly perfect. Hanako hated him. She let the words of the chapter sink in, about making your own choices that benefit you. Wish it was that easy, she thought, Wish I could just leave and never look back. She shoveled the book back in her bag, and shook off her crazy ideas. She couldn’t leave. Not in a million years. She sent a text to her dad, a quick, “I’m ok and I’ll be home soon.”, text. She began her walk home, and paused for a moment when she saw two of her underclassmen, Anri Sonohara and Mikado Ryugamine, walking together, most likely heading home. She was slightly jealous of them, but nothing she had confirmed, or had been confirmed. She could tell by looking into their eyes that they lived a life that was anything besides normal. She looked away for a moment, and thought hard for a moment. I could run. I could make it. I could join the Dollars. I could look for the Headless Rider…, she thought, before again, shaking the thought away. She owed it to her parents to do what they wanted. They had given her a good life, and given her life to begin with, the least she could do was pay them back in doing their wishes. Besides, she couldn’t leave her younger sister, Asumi. Asumi loved the way they lived though, and wanted to marry Makoto instead of her older sister. Makoto was good with kids. Hell, he’d make a great dad. And a great husband. But he was to tame. He was too domesticated. Hanako didn’t want children or to be a housewife. She wanted to be free. Something she’d never felt. She was bound by chains of gratitude, and the feeling of owing her parents. She’d thought about the group of friends from earlier. Erika, Walker, Kyohei, and Saburo. She’d picked their names up from their conversations, which she’d been listening to as she waited on them. Sometimes, they included her, asking her questions or for her opinions. She wanted friends like them, a group of people she could trust with her life and secrets. Their smiles were genuine, their laughter full and bright. She felt her fingernails dig into her palms, and she pressed them harder, snapping herself out of her daydreaming. She let out a sigh and continued walking. Anri and Mikado were long gone, she couldn't even see them walking behind her. Friendship and… love, she thought sadly, Something I can’t have.

       She made it home with no complications, which disappointed her, but what more did she expect? Her father went into his usual rant about her being late, told her that Stella, their housekeeper, would bring her dinner at her room because he needed the dining room for “work”. Hanako did as she was told, and sat herself at her desk, retrieving her red folder for homework, and began on her chemistry homework. Stella opened the door softly, and said, “Here’s your dinner, Hanako.”. “Thanks Stella.”. They were on a first name basis, as they had been for years. Stella was the daughter of one of her father’s workers' children, who couldn’t raise her, and asked him to take her in.  She was Hanako’s closest thing to a friend, as they had grown up together basically. Only difference was that Stella was being paid to be a prisoner of the Ito family home. Stella placed the plate of food on her desk. “Hanako, something appears to be bothering you. You can talk to me, anytime.”, Stella said. “I’m fine Stella, really. Just a bit stressed from balancing work, school, and training. Nothing I can’t handle.”, Hanako replied, grabbing Stella’s hand in her own, “But some green tea might help, if you wouldn’t mind.”. “Of course.”, Stella replied, “I’d be glad to get you some tea. Is that all?”. “Yes ma’am, it is.”, Hanako said with a smile, releasing Stella’s hand. Being eighteen, a student, an heir to a multi-billion dollar company, and a full-time maid café worker made life… hectic. She enjoyed her job. More than anything, really. Little did she know, the customers from earlier were talking about her. 

       “Dotachin, don’t you think that girl from the café was really pretty? Her boobs were big too! She was a perfect dating sim character.”, Erika exclaimed. “For sure! She’d be the mature older sister type, right?”, Walker chirped. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. She was nice, boobs or not.”, Kyohei replied, “Don’t make comments like that about any woman or girl, got it?”. “Aww man! It’s just true statements though!”, Erika whined. “We don’t wanna seem like we don’t respect women, do we?”, Saburo said. Walker and Erika nodded, “We aren’t like that at all!”. Kyohei nodded at Saburo in thanks. “HeyHey! Dotachin, we should ask her if she wants to join us! She seemed so bored with her life!”, Erika exclaimed, “She seems super kick-assey too!”. “Yeah for sure! She seems so mysterious. She’s actually like a protagonist! Super bored with their life and looking for change! We could be the supporting characters of her story! I bet she has daddy issues too!”, Walker gushed. “Here we go again.”, Saburo groaned. “We can’t just walk up to her and ask if she wants to join our gang.”, Kyohei explained, “It’s a surefire way to get reported to the cops.”. “Aww man! I wanted another girl on our team…”, Erika mumbled. “I wanted a big sister type girl!”, Walker pouted. Kyohei sighed. Saburo laughed, “So you thought we were going to just ask her, and she would say yes?”. Erika and Walker looked at each other. “Joining a gang isn’t the kind of thing someone says yes too.”. “Well yeah but-”, Erika started, but was cut off by Kyohei, “Saburo's right. No one joins a gang because someone asks them too.”. “Unless there’s blackmail! Or threats!”, Walker exclaimed. “Right…”, Kyohei replied. 

     Hanako gripped the pencil in her hand harder, her eyes scanning the algebra questions, and answering them easily. “Simplify…”, she muttered, before furiously scribbling things down. Stella’s home brewed green tea always made her focused, most likely because of the caffeine. Stella had left a while ago, and Hanako missed the presence of her, as she acted as a big sister in a weird way. She was five years older than Hanako,  and was wiser and less driven by emotions, not to say she was emotionless. She had a very logical view on life, and passed on her opinions with reserve and grace. She was dignified, and way more suited to be the Ito’s next chairman. Suddenly, her door burst open, and she heard the voice of her twelve year old sister, Asumi, who exclaimed, “Hana! I want you to paint my nails!”. “Asumi… I’m doing homework, maybe later.”. “No I want them done now~”, she whined, “I’ll pay you ten bucks!”. “I don’t need your money, Asumi.”. “Well I want you to paint my nails, so make it twenty.”. Asumi had no idea how much twenty dollars really was in her young mind. “Fine, if you insist.”, Hanako sighed. She was almost done anyway. “I’ll go get the color!”, Asumi cheered, looping her skinny arms around Hanako, burying her face into her breasts. “Ok, ok. I get it.”, Hanako said, rubbing the girl’s blonde hair. Asumi ran out, and was back two minutes later with a pearl pink color in her hands. She thrusted the bottle into Hanako’s outstretched hands, “Thank you Hanahanamura!”. “I told you to just call me Hana.”, Hanako sighed. “Okok fine!!”, Asumi giggled, “Do you have time to do my feet and my fingers?”. “A mani-pedi? Don’t you know dad would let you get your nails done any day of the week.”. “I know but it isn’t the same as when you do it Hana!”. The sentiment warmed Hanako’s heart, and she began painting her sister’s nails. 

                         “Your twenty dollars, m’lady.”, Asumi giggled as she passed Hanako a crisp twenty dollar bill. “Thank you my peasant.”, Hanako teased. “Hey! I am at least a princess!”, Asumi cried out. “You sure are. Princess Asumi, Queen Athena, King Mirio and…”. “Princess Hanako! If I'm a princess you’re a princess!”. “Umm… ok, Princess Hanako.”. Hanako wasn’t the same as her sister, not at all. Her sister wasn’t a closed door rebellion, a secret disgrace. She didn’t hate her father, or Makoto. She wasn’t selfish. “Mhm!~ Princess Hana and her Prince Charming, Makoto!”.  Asumi had said it as a joke, but Hanako cringed at that statement. “Yeahhhhhhhh.”. “Mhm!~”. Stella broke the awkward situation, “Ms. Asumi, it’s your curfew.”. Asumi pouted, and hugged Hanako goodbye. “Night Night Hana!”, she said softly, kissing Hanako’s pale cheek. Hanako wrapped her arms around Asumi, and kissed the crown of her head, “Goodnight Princess Asumi.”. Ausmi released Hanako, and bounded behind Stella, heading to her room. Hanako finished her homework, and took a shower. As the hot water ran down her body, she found herself singing. “I hope you know that I’m trying to build a life I can love. I hope I never stop dreaming, I need something I believe in.”, she sang, projecting her thoughts and feelings into the words she sang, “I dip this world in black and white, monochrome igniting. I'm gonna be a neon sign. Let the ship rest 'cause I'm lighting up the city. I don't ever wanna wake up wondering, where the youth have gone. Not gonna be another sell out zombie, wondering what went wrong.  I'll never give in,  I'll never back down, I'll never be another zombie in a life that's not my own.”. By the end of her “song”, she felt a little better, a little less confused. She stepped out of the warm shower, and dried herself off, putting on her pajamas, and laid down in bed. She decided to read, and picked up where she’d left off in the book her mother had given her. “Chapter Five.”, she read aloud, “Don’t Be a Slave to Obligation”. She was shocked by the chapter title. It was exactly what she was suffering from. She read more, engrossed by the chapter’s calling out of her lifestyle. A slave to obligation is what I am, she thought, but I don’t have to be, do I?. But of course she did, she had no choice. She shook off the thought, it was ridiculous. She had to stay. For her parents, for Asumi, for Stella. She looked out the window, at the city below her, a large and vast place of different people and different groups she could become a part of. AShe could create her own group if she really wanted to. Her mind flickered back to Kyohei and his group of unlikely  friends, and their connection. A bond stronger than steel, that nothing can peirce, ever. She longed for that, and not in the negative way she was feeling currently towards her family. Her mind flickered to Sakura, who was thinking about joining the Dollars, to her anxiety around people her age. Hanako ran a brush through her brown hair, her chocolate eyes fixed on the small handheld device on her nightstand. I could sign up for the Dollars right now… it would be so easy. “No!”, she commanded herself, “No more stupid thoughts!”. She grabbed her phone, but not to join the Dollars, instead to text her mother. “I’m enjoying the book you sent me, it’s very eye opening! Thank you Mother!”, she typed, and sent. Her mother didn’t respond, which she expected, as it was eight A.M in New York, which meant her mother was working. Athena Ito had a strict work schedule, which included not taking breaks for texts or calls that weren’t directly related to Ito Fashion.  Ito Tech and Ito Fashion… the company's her parents owned. She finished brushing her hair, placing both the phone and brush on the nightstand, plugging the phone in, and fell asleep quickly.

#durarara!! #ocfic #oc fiction #izaya orihara #shizou #chikage rokujou #anri sonohara #mikado ryugamine #masaomi kida #ikebukuro #maid cafe #durarara #daddy issues #celty #headless rider #dollars #toramaru

[wri0thesley]

an angsty/sad fic of risotto and his s/o sleeping in bed together, the last night before his squad carries out their mission to rebel against their boss and fight buccellati's team?

tw for character death, guns mention, violence mention!!! it’s canon compliant, so: oof. oof, anon.

There’s something off about Risotto from the moment he walks into the house.

He’d just called you to tell you he was on his way home, and you’d been in panic mode; it’s been a few days since Risotto has been back, and your house is in a bit of a bad way. You’re not always the perfect housewife that Risotto deserves, but he’s always been the kind to raise an eyebrow and smirk at you before bending down to help you pick up the trash that seems to breed on the floor. He’s not houseproud; he’s much happier to get home and see you, he says.

When he’d come through the door, you’d shoved the last of the plates into the sink and ran to greet him. Even though he’s been gone for far longer than a week before, you can’t help but miss him - without Risotto’s bulk in bed beside you or the comforting scent of his aftershave on the air or the heat of his arms wrapping around your waist whilst you cook, you feel empty.

“I’m sorry for being gone so long,” he usually says, and though he doesn’t give smiles often he looks at you with his eyes softened with adoration. You have grown used to reading his expressions; some people might think him rude or frightening. You know him simply to be … quiet. Stoic. Perfect. “Let me make it up to you.”

He usually dips you down into a kiss. He usually wraps his arms around you and holds you against him, his cheek resting on the top of your head. He normally throws his bag down onto the sofa and sits, beckoning you to him so he can pull you onto his lap and tell you he missed you.

But today, he does none of that.

Today, you wrap your arms around him and get onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth and although his hands come up to rest gently on your waist, there’s no enthusiasm in the movement. There’s no return of your kisses. There’s no Risotto murmuring sweet things into your hair so you can close your eyes and revel in having the person you love most in the world back with you.

There’s just Risotto, hard as stone, the door closed behind him, his face unmoving.

“Riz?” You ask, peering up at your boyfriend. “Is everything … okay?”

It’s not like him to be distant - at least, it’s not like him to be distant in this way. Sometimes, when you probe a little too much about his work, he smiles at you and sidesteps the question and his eyes take on a softer cast. “I don’t want to talk about work while I’m with you, tesoro,” he says. “I’d much rather concentrate on us being together.”

He blinks once, slowly, and looks down at you as if it’s the first time he’s really noticed you’re there. His hands, hovering over your hips, move and fall from your skin. You feel a frown pull at your mouth, your brows furrowing.

“Have I done something wrong?” You ask him. “I’ve kept it cleaner than usual, I promise–”

“You’ve done fine,” he says, his voice still distant. “It’s fine.” He looks around the room as if searching for something, and your eyes follow his. The loveseat with a deep dent in it from where Risotto sits. The shelf of books - mainly Risotto’s. The photograph of the two of you over the fireplace.

It’s one of very few photographs of Risotto in the house. You have this one, of the two of you, and one taken with a disposable camera on vacation last year. Risotto is looking out at the sea with the corner of his mouth curling up, his pale hair tousled, a sunburn obvious on the tip of his nose.

He’s usually behind the camera. You’ve made jokes that at your wedding, it will be a photograph of you alone at the altar - and Risotto has smiled at you, saying he’d much prefer that anyway. The photo of you over the fireplace was taken by one of Risotto’s associates at a fancy dinner party he’d brought you to - you don’t remember the particular associate’s name, and you and Risotto had left early. That had turned out to be a blessing when the newspapers had been published the next morning and a prominent politican had been found shot dead in his office, just above the dining room.

“We should have taken more,” he says, motioning to the frame, and your heart skips a beat and your mouth goes dry. Is he going to– “No,” he says, shaking his head as if dispelling the thought. His eyes meet yours. “Remind me to take more photos of us, tesoro.”

“Riz,” you say, again, as Risotto begins to move forward, still looking around the room like it’s the first time he’s seen it. “Is everything okay? You seem kind of … off. Did you have a bad day at work?”

He reaches the doorway to the kitchen, one hand coming up to lean on the wall above the light switch. There’s a bright blue pencil mark up there from where you’d jokingly marked Risotto’s height, after fetching a kitchen chair because you weren’t tall enough to reach over his massive frame. His finger traces the line, and you find yourself smiling at the memory - Risotto’s face, though, doesn’t shift.

“A bad day?” He repeats, sounding faraway. “Oh. You could … you could say that. You could say it’s been a … bad week.”

(You’re not to know a bad week for him is the bodies of his teammates in encased glass. You’re not to know a bad day for him is agreeing to go against the most powerful man in the country. You’re not to know that he’s not the only man in La Squadra who’s gone home tonight and doesn’t know the next time they’ll see their lover. If he told you– If he told you, he thinks, they’d use you against him. And you do not deserve that.)

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask him, and Risotto has to will himself to not break down as he turns to look at you.

“Not really,” he says, and then; “I’m … tired. Do you want to come up to bed with me?”

It’s not unusual for him to come home from work and want to sleep, though he usually doesn’t ask you to come with him. It’s often the early morning when he stumbles in from work, and you two don’t see one another properly until the evening. But now, it’s nearly nine at night, and you’ve already had dinner, not anticipating Risotto’s return. So you smile at him.

“I’ll cuddle the bad day out of you?” You suggest, but it does not even make Risotto crack a smile. Something passes over his face - something that moves too fast for you to see, but seems sad. His throat bobs as he swallows, and he makes his way up the stairs, leaving you to trail behind him with your mind going at a hundred miles a minute.

Risotto isn’t overtly affectionate, of course. He doesn’t call you his cuddlebug and grab you and squeeze you so you can’t move. He doesn’t cling to your hand and pull you into PDA when he takes you out to restaurants. His intimacy is far more practised, far softer - holding you whilst you cook. A hand laying over yours whilst you watch a movie. His legs tangled up with yours in blankets whilst the two of you sleep. A kiss on the top of your head as he breathes in your scent.

But this isn’t like him, and you can’t help but fret as you both get ready for bed. Whilst you brush your teeth side by side in the mirror, one of Risotto’s big hands comes up and rests on your hip as he looks at you in the mirror.

(You’re not to know he’s preserving the image in his mind. You and he in quiet domesticity. You’re not to know it will be one of his last thoughts before he dies - you next to him, expecting to spend the rest of your lives together.)

“Amore,” he says, as you turn off the main light in the bedroom and approach the bed in soft lamplight. “I do have something to tell you.”

“I thought so,” you say, and the smile that Risotto forces is tired as he watches you crawl into the nest of blankets beside him. This close, in fainter light, you can see hollows in his cheeks you’ve never noticed and dark shadows beneath his eyes as if he hasn’t slept properly since he went away. “You look like shit.”

“You look beautiful,” he counters, and a smile splits your face despite yourself, though it’s quickly chased away by the exhaustion in Risotto’s sigh. “I’m leaving for work again in the morning,” he continues, and you see him steel his shoulders for your response. He knows you well. Your voice is hurt when you say;

“Again? I’ve only had a few hours with you this time…”

“I know,” he says. “I know it’s been barely any time. But once I get back from this trip, I promise we’ll be together a lot more. I’m hoping I’ll get more time off, maybe even an increase in pay …”

“I just want you,” you say, your voice very small.

You know that Risotto is involved in shady business. You know that he works harder than anyone you’ve ever met; he has never outright said to you that it is the Mafia that pays your bills, but you know that there’s a handgun tucked into your underwear drawer in case you ever need it, and that Risotto always knows where to avoid when the two of you go out. You’ve washed blood off of his clothes and never mentioned it.

So every time he mentions going away again, a little bit of your heart feels like it’s withering away.

“I know,” he says, trying to soothe, though for once his voice does nothing to ease the ache. “I know you do. There’s nothing I’d rather do than be with you, you know that.”

“When are you coming back?” You ask him, and he visibly winces.

“I don’t know,” he says, and that feels like a punch in the gut. You’re not stupid. Your voice is flat.

“You don’t know if you’re coming back, then.”

“Of course I’m coming back,” he says, his voice sharp. “I would never leave you alone.”

(Fears rise sour in the back of Risotto’s mind. He imagines the boss finding you. He imagines a gun pressed against your head. He imagines a Polaroid photograph, somehow slipped through the letterbox of a safehouse La Squadra are staying in - you, tears running down your face, your wrists bound by coarse rope and a warning scribbled in red pen. He would never leave you alone. Not on purpose.“

"You don’t know that, do you?” You ask, timidly, and Risotto reaches forward and grabs your chin in his big hand, tipping your face up to look at him. His eyes, crimson and jet, look down at you with sincerity writ across them.

“Of course I’m coming back to you,” he says. “I promise. And I’ve never broken a promise to you, have I?”

(Risotto will crawl back to you on broken bones, he tells himself. If he cannot speak or he cannot walk or he cannot breathe, he will force himself back to you so as not to break the promise. And if he doesn’t - Prosciutto has your address. Ghiaccio has your name and where you work. Illuso knows where the mirrors in the house are. One of them will make it. La Squadra are too powerful for all of them to fall apart.)

“No,” you say, softly, though your throat feels like it’s on fire. “You never have.”

“I’m not going to start now,” he replies, and you feel arms wrapping around you, pulling you against his firm, hard body.

You can’t help but think of the scars underneath Risotto’s soft grey sleep shirt. You’ve caressed them with your fingers and kissed them and drawn patterns on them. You’ve seen new ones come and go and fade; too many of them like stab wounds. Too many of them like bullet holes. Your heart aches as you wonder how many of them he got through his line of work.

“You promise?” You say, voice cracking. Risotto’s arms are strong around you as they squeeze, as he maneuvers your body to lay on top of his and he smooths your hair down so your head rests on his chest, listening to the soothing rhythm of his heart. He drops a kiss on the top of your head and you feel safe and warm and protected, and the feeling intensifies as he reassures you, though there’s a low ache in your stomach that you know is fear.

“I promise,” Risotto says. “I’ll be back. As soon as I can.”

(Risotto makes himself believe the promise. He breathes in the scent of your hair and lets his hands rest on your bare skin, remembering the feel of you beneath his calloused hands.)

Your eyes drift closed as you let the rise and fall of Risotto’s chest lull you to sleep. Risotto’s eyes stay open for far longer, staring down at you.

When they find Formaggio’s body, burnt and ruined, Risotto remembers how you’d smiled at him sleepily and resolves that will not be his fate. When they find Illuso’s mess - it is not in a fit state to be called a body - he thinks of that photograph of you both and tells himself that he will make it back to take more. When Melone calls about Prosciutto’s mangled form and Pesci’s body, Risotto’s fingers twitch in desire to call you and tell you he loves you.

When it is Melone’s turn, Risotto’s hands shake and he thinks about the picture that Melone took of the two of you again, but he thinks, too, of Melone’s pronouncement a few days later that you’ll be wonderful parents when the time comes.

And when it is Ghiaccio, and Risotto is alone - he swallows, and he sets his shoulders, and he tells himself over and over and over again that he made you a promise. You will not be alone. He won’t leave you.

In the morning, when you wake up, Risotto is already gone. On your bedside table is a bank card and a front door key and a scribbled note with an address and a PIN. “Please leave the house,” Risotto says in his note, as you lean over his side of the bed to see that he’s mentioned that he has put another handgun in his bedside drawer. “Take it with you. Go to this place. Take this money. I’ll call you when I’m coming home.”

Risotto’s side of the bed smells like him. Iron and musk and wood and leather. You look at the divot in the pillow and think about Risotto’s tousled hair. You pad downstairs on bare feet, seeing that his coat and shoes are gone, and look at the photograph of him and you and the knick knacks he’s brought you from other missions and a little part of you says;

“Stay. Don’t go. If he doesn’t come back … if he doesn’t come back, you’ll need the reminder.”

And five days later, when the knock on the door comes, you think nothing of answering it. You think; perhaps Risotto has not had time to call me. Perhaps he’s called someone to check in on me. A part of you that you do not want to admit is there whispers that perhaps it is bad news, but - but even if it is bad news, surely you would still want to know?

So you open the door.

(When Risotto is facing his death, when he is looking up at the sky, his heart aches that he broke his promise to you, but is soothed that you’re safe in the house he bought for you. Maybe one day you’ll love someone else, he thinks. He will die at twenty eight wishing for the taste of your lips on his, but you’ll live long and full and perhaps you’ll think of him fondly.)

(He does not know that you’re buried in a shallow grave. He does not know there is a video tape labelled for him in an fancy house in a basement that has seen depravities greater than he can think about. He’d be glad to know, of course, that the people who enacted that upon you have had their comeuppance - but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know that you are not safe. He doesn’t know that his vision of you living ten, twenty, thirty years more will never come to fruition.)

(He dies thinking about you, and though there is not a smile on his face, there’s peace in his heart that you’re still out there.)

(It’s better he does not know the truth.)

#parents #risotto nero #writing #sfw #neutral reader although there is a mention of risotto and s/o possibly being #sad. this is sad. #Anonymous #possibly being parents (in the future)

[maruzzewrites]

For the yandere prompts: can i get #27 with prosciutto (resident stubborn-assed mans man) trying his darndest to woo afab, who is equally stubborn and has been his captive for a year already 😱

27. “I wishyou would just let me have you…”

content warning: domestic abuse, implied kidnapping, Prosciutto being an asshole, yandere content, implied sexism (sorta?).

Prosciutto would like to think of himself as apatient man, someone who could have the tolerance to deal with bad behaviors so that hecould pull apart your bad habits and rebuild you to make you perfect. For yourself,for him, for the both of you. But then again, keeping his voice down and hisnerves steady proved to be challenging endeavors when you face someone just aswilling to fight back when he tries to kick you down.

He was raised in a traditional household: amother, a father, children; the housewife who would fix her husband a drinkwhile being available to be dragged on his lap to enjoy a pleasant eveningwhile the kids slept in their rooms. The fond memories of his family would shiftand change as he went through them, as he heard the excruciating sound of aslap, the enraged words of a man who was too suffocating. Then the image of hismother’s back, after she kneeled down and made him promise he’d keep quiet, momwas simply going to prepare a surprise for dad. So many years, his mother’sface was difficult to recall when it wasn’t contorted in pain or aloof from unresponsiveness.

But he saw how miserable his father wasafterwards, when his mother never came back, and he started to pierce togetherhis own ideas. How love was supposed to feel, how relationships were supposedto be; he realized his old man’s error and kept you with him, chained to himwith heavy bounds. Not only metaphorically, but physically too. He knew you’dtake any chance to run away if your ankle wasn’t secured, free only when he wasthere to keep you down with the weight of his own body.

He loved to doll you up, recreate the perfectfantasy, but a chain around your leg wasn’t easy to avoid with pulling off yourstockings and dressing you up. So, he had to stand over your body, laid out onthe bed, with his weight directly on your knees and a hand right on yourstomach as you wriggled and tossed. He was almost done hooking up the garterbelt. He run a finger under the band of the stocking, adjusting it to fit youperfectly while enjoying the soft feeling of your skin sliding against his digit.He then let go and you gasped at the sting of the band snapping against yourthigh. He let out a huff.

In his distraction, you stopped your strugglingto shoot your arm up and yanked his hair. One of the buns that held his lockscame loose, but you held for dear life until he growled when he felt your nailsscratch his scalp. He raised his hand and landed a resounding slap on yourcheek. The skin became redder and redder, but you didn’t falter if not for thesecond you realized what he did. But you were used to this, you just went toattack again before he gripped your wrist painfully.

“Now, now, calm down, will you?” He pressed downon you. He rested his cold hand on your throbbing cheek. You tried to bit histhumb as caressed your lower lip. He let go of your wrist to plant his otherhand on the other side of your face, holding you still as he looked, staredinto your eyes. The contempt and disgust, along with the stubborn pride, madehis own anger boil and warm up his skin. He tried to ease the grasp of hisfingers on you when he saw your face writhe, noticing the marks his nails left.“Wouldn’t it be easier if you listened to me?” When his grip was loose enough,you tried to headbutt him whist stubborn silence clinged to your lips.

With a snarl, he shoved you down and clutched your shouldersagonizingly tight, earning a moan of pain from you. He observed your skinwrinkle and your strength leave while you tried to claw at his hands and arms.You then fell, old and fragile, on the duvet, holding all the disdain in yourglassy eyes. He hated to use his Stand on you, but you were so obedient while he undressed you and made you wear one of your best dresses, way too elegantfor staying in your home. But you didn’t allow much else, you were persistentand wouldn’t surrender enough to walk arm in arm to show yourrelationship off.

He got up to get the silk ropes that held you down for so many ofthe days you passed in that room, his weight on you once again before you couldeven sit up due to the old age. You were flipped on your stomach and he quicklytied your arms so that you could enjoy your cozy evening in, without futileattempts to escape. When you were facing up again, he let his hands travel yourbody, any inch he caressed returning to the original youth that was taken awayfew moments ago. He then went to kiss you, but missed the mark when you turnedaway, his lips now right under your ear.

“I wish you would just let me have you…” He traced the length ofyour jaw with kisses, forcing you to move your head with a painful grip whenyou refused to turn back around. Even the most romantic of gestures was metwith a struggle and he only wished you’d finally give up, give in; he wanted anideal life, with an ideal partner, picture perfect without fake smiles. Hewouldn’t get it wrong like his father did, he would encourage you to grow rootsrather than wings. He planted a smothering kiss on your sealed lips.

“We could be wonderful.” He gazed at your face, infuriated yet stunninglyvibrant. You just spit in his face and he raised his hand again to strike.

#jjba #jojo's bizzare adventures #prosciutto #reader insert #yandere #domestic abuse /// #violence /// #please be mindful of the tags! #Anonymous

[zukadiary]

Woman of the Year starring Sagiri Seina (2018)

This was not on my schedule till my friend mentioned that Chigi club had extra tickets and it was actually taking place while I’d be here, and I’m very glad I realized I could see it in time; I was VERY pleasantly surprised and delighted both by Chigi’s performance and the show itself.

Woman of the Year was originally a movie from 1942 starring Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy, and despite some expected patriarchal themes it’s extremely progressive for the 40s. It was made into a Kander/Ebb Broadway musical in the 1981 with some changes but the same general outline (so for a better idea of the story than what I’m about to write you can watch the movie, read up on it, or listen to the soundtrack—all are readily available). Tess (Chigi) is the co-host of a morning news show; she’s a powerful career woman, extremely famous, works all the time, and knows celebrities, leaders, royalty, etc. all over the world. She meets Sam, a cartoonist who has drawn and published an unflattering depiction of her in his comic strip, when he has a change of heart about what he’s done and comes to her office to apologize. They fall in love at first sight and after a very entertaining drunken scene they foolishly decided to get married on the spot without knowing anything about each other’s personalities or lifestyles. In their very young married life Sam quickly gets fed up with Tess working all the time and failing to spare him any thought or time whatsoever; Tess interprets this as opposition to her career and also gets frustrated with him. Tess is named woman of the year and after being unintentionally rather rude to Sam backstage at the award ceremony he snaps and walks out on her before she goes on stage. This inspires Tess to reevaluate whether work is really everything in life or if she might find more fulfillment dedicating herself to being a wife and sharing her life with someone. Without warning Tess declares she’s retiring and in a disastrous attempt to be domestic fails utterly to bake Sam a birthday cake on live television. Sam comes back and yells at her for being too extreme, insisting he never wanted her to quit her career to be a housewife, but just find some time for him in her schedule. She agrees and they make up. 

After watching the movie I was nervous about the musical, since extremely progressive for 1942 certainly does not mean progressive in 2018 (and the musical is also 37 years old). I was very pleased to find that it did not feel dated at all either in theme or presentation, and they actually kept it set in the 80s which gave it a fun visual style. I found the actor who played Sam very uninspiring, but everyone else in the show was wonderful and hilarious, my favorites being Imai Tomohiko who played Tess’s (male) secretary; Harukaze Hitomi (an OG, Tsukigumi musumeyaku in the 80s) who played Tess’s maid; and of course Juri Sakiho who not only has talent coming out of her ears but is pure sunshine personified (she played Tess’s ex-husband’s current stay-at-home wife, and she and Chigi sing “The Grass Is Always Greener” together where they go on and on about how nice each other’s lives must be). 

For the first real show of Chigi’s OG career, this was an unexpectedly perfect choice, and she was wonderful. This is almost certainly a combination of me projecting my own feelings and extrapolating what little information we’ve been given publicly, but based on interviews etc., Chigi a) seemed exceptionally distraught at her taidan and b) still seems pretty unsure of the direction she wants to go moving forward (compounded by the fact that she has not yet signed to an agency). So my biggest surprise upon seeing Woman of the Year was that I sensed none of the awkwardness that almost always comes with finding your feet in the regular theater world immediately after shedding your otokoyaku persona. Tess is an extremely strong and aggressive woman who is also finding her feet in her personal relationships, so I’m sure a lot of this was helped by the role itself; it really fit freshly-graduated Chigi. She definitely had to push herself into a new style, but she was also very much able to just be Chigi, in a way that absolutely enhanced the role. Her entrance as the curtain opens has a lot of impact; she walks on in silhouette, the lights come on revealing her in a stunning (for the 80s) black and gold gown, and she declares loudly what a piece of crap her husband is. I loved all of her costumes actually (little tailored business suits are a great first step away from otokoyaku). There are DANCE NUMBERS! Real dance numbers! One centered around this ballet dancer character played by a real ballet dancer, but Chigi was in the others, and it was so nice to be able to see her dance even simple choreography; I wasn’t expecting that. My only complaint is I was sort of looking forward to finding out what her natural voice sounds like, but aside from a couple of forced high notes her singing was indistinguishable from her time in Takarazuka. 

BEST SCENES, in addition to the Chigi/Juri duet: the cake scene, which was extremely silly in a very charming theatrical way (real ingredients flying all over the stage, some giant inflatable thing representing the dough exploding out of the oven); Tess and Sam trying to be alone on their wedding night as one by one pretty much every person they know winds up in their bedroom for some reason; and the winner, extremely drunk Chigi spilling her feelings to Sam and the bartender. 

Overall it was probably a better leading man away from being one of my favorite OG shows (bias for certain people aside). 

#sagiri seina #takarazuka og #reviews #woman of the year #might as well just tell people I live here