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twilight-orchid · 3 months

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The Shopping Trip

Jason Todd x Pregnant Reader

Word count 1,437

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, cursing, brief sexual reference

Part 1 Part 2

Ever since your pregnancy began to show, Jason was on you like a hawk. You wince from the pressure on your back, he’s there with lotion to give you a massage. You’re too sick to eat, he goes out of his way to make you something you can keep down. He made sure you got enough sleep, bought all of your cravings no matter what time or weather condition, waited on you hand and foot, and was happy to sit there and hold you when you sobbed at whatever triggered your hormones.

Sure, he was doting and sweet, but he was also protective and possessive; traits highly exasperated by the fact you were carrying his kids. Lord help anyone who even looked at you the wrong way, your giant guard dog of a fiancé had a hand on your hip and was staring daggers in seconds. Any time you left the house he was at high alert. You thought it was endearing to a point. However, the way he currently surveyed the Babies-R-Us as you entered like he was on an undercover mission was a bit excessive. He held your hand tight, as if he were afraid someone would whisk you away at any moment.

He grabbed a cart then stopped once you were a bit into the store.

“Alright, game plan.” He said, turning to you.

“Cribs, car seats, a stroller, blankets, towels, bouncers, tummy time pillows, highchairs, clothes, bottles, diapers, toys, bibs, pacifiers.” You read off the list on your phone.

“Damn that’s a list.” He muttered. You snickered, your hands dropping to rest on your 6-month rounded belly.

“Maybe next time you won’t break the condom.” You whispered teasingly.

“I don’t think I recall hearing any complaints at the time. And that night I remember every detail of.” He said lowly, his voice slipping into that sexy growl of his that helped get you in this situation to begin with. He loved how the heat rose to your cheeks as you looked away from him, your lip between your teeth as you too remembered the night in question. He chuckled at your flustered face before he decided you’d had enough.

“Alright, alright doll. After you.”

The couple had only walked a bit further into the store before you squealed and ran over to a display. Well, ran was a bit of an exaggeration at that point; it was more like a quick waddle. He felt guilty about how much pain you were in as the kids grew, but God forgive him, he also found watching you try to maneuver around your middle hilarious.

He followed you to the display as you turned to him beaming, matching purple and green onesies in your hands.

“Look! They have little hoodies. And matching socks and baby mittens! It’s pretty warm, it’ll be perfect to bring them home from the hospital in. And they’re so adorable!” He watched your little outburst with a smile on his lips. Cute.

“Those are perfect.” He agreed. You grinned as you dropped them in the cart.

“So, what are we actually getting today and what’s going on the registry?” He asked as they walked towards the cribs.

“All of the furniture, the strollers, and the car seats will go on the registry; Bruce was very insistent about it. We just need to pick them out today.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll buy the whole thing plus some.”

“Most likely.” You agreed with a smile.

Jason really hadn’t been sure how Bruce would react to the news, but surprisingly The Dark Knight was actually taking it in stride. If the family didn’t know any better, they’d venture as far to say he was excited. However, Babs and Dick had him beat. Though no one was as elated as Alfred.

“We should go ahead and get stuff like bibs, blankets, clothes, bottles, pacifiers, and diapers today. But we should put some of that on the registry too, we could always use more.” He nodded in agreement as they reached the cribs.

They walked through the long, overfilled aisle of various cribs and cradles. Jason had no idea there were so many options to choose from, especially since most of them looked exactly the same. He turned to see if any had caught your eye, but he found you with a distinct frown on your face.

”What’s wrong doll?”

“We should have picked out the color scheme for the nursery before looking at furniture.” You replied. One thing you had been insistent on was a put together nursery. Jason had read about it in the numerous pregnancy books he’d read: nesting. You wanted everything cleaned, organized, and put together by the time your little boy and girl got there, and Jason could tell it was stressing you. He came around behind you and pulled you into him, his hands finding the sides of your belly and his fingers massaging circles into the fabric of your top.

“We can get neutrals for the furniture so it’ll work with whatever we choose. And I can always paint it if there’s a specific color pallet you pick out.” He suggested softly. You mulled it over for a second but nodded in agreement.

“This one is cute then. The bottom drops out so we could use it until they’re around 2. And the whole mattress is washable.” You mused, leaning your head back into his chest.

“That one’s nice, but look at this one. The bottom doesn’t drop as far but it turns into a toddler bed. And there’s all that storage on the bottom, we’ll need that while they’re little. Mattress’s still washable too.” You smiled and nodded, pulling away from him to write down the serial number.

The two of you moved about the store, picking out strollers and highchairs, décor and toys, planning paints and curtains. The cart was quickly filling with little things you found that would be helpful; swaddling blankets, wrap carriers, a baby monitor, a bottle warmer, a boogie sucker, etc. With how thorough you thought your list was, it was insane how many things you were seeing that you knew you would need. Eventually you rounded to the large expanse of colorful clothes, shoes, and accessories.

“Let’s split up, maybe 3 outfits each per baby for now?” You suggested. Jason nodded, kissing the top of your head and leaving you with the cart. First and foremost, he picked up a red onesie reading daddy’s girl in black cursive that came with a black tutu and black gold glitter leggings. Next, he grabbed a blue parter in crime onesie with little black cargo pants. Next, he was going for-

He heard soft sniffing coming from nearby. He looked around and was alarmed to find the cries coming from you. He rushed to your side.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” You turned to him with tears down your face and a little formal suit in your hand.

“Jason, look at the tiny suit! It has a little bow tie, and itty-bitty dress shoes!” You could barely get it out before your voice broke. He stared at you blankly, trying to hold it it, but failed miserably as laughter overtook him.

“You’re crying over the baby suit? Seriously?”

“Fuck off Todd, I’m hormonal and it’s cute.” You glared at him, but he could see the humor in the quirk of your lip. He held his hands up in defeat.

“You’re right, you’re right. How dare I?”

“How dare you indeed.” You wiped your tears and turned back to the shelf of clothes you were looking at to hide your growing smile and hung the suit back up.

You both picked out your 6 outfits quickly, and in fact it was hard not to grab more. You hadn’t even seen your babies yet but you were so excited to dress them up. Maybe it was the fact that they were about to be first time parents, but everything was adorable.

You picked out some beanies, baby mittens, and socks to keep them warm, and Jason insisted on grabbing a Wonder Woman and a Superman swaddling blanket, pointedly leaving the Batman one untouched. Finally it was time to hit check out.

Jason said no to the printed copy when the cashier asked if he wanted the receipt in hand or emailed, honestly he wanted to quickly grow amnesia for that part of the trip. Especially since he knew that was trip number 1 of 2000 probably. However, when he looked over at you, your hand protectively resting over your children’s temporary home, the price tag didn’t matter quite as much. And as long as he had you with him, he didn’t care how many shopping trips you had to go on for your new, growing little family.

Whoo boy I couldn’t figure out how to end this one. Sorry it took so long, life is very stressful right now and writing is more of a passive hobby for me. This one doesn’t feel as put together as my others so sorry if it’s not what you were hoping for! I really just wanted to do some domestic fluff. Regardless thank you for reading and I really really appreciate the support on part 1 and 2!!!

#Jason Todd #Jason Todd x reader #Jason Todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #jason todd x pregnant reader #jason todd x pregnant!reader #red hood x pregnant reader #batfam #Batman #dc comics #dc universe #dcu #dc

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nonotnolan · 2 months

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The Ends Justify The Means

As always, this February story is dedicated to my valentine, @mergeman

"Okay, but did we have to add him to the Hivemind?" Jordan said, looking at his unconscious boss with a look of resigned disappointment. "If I end up with an old man's vocabulary because of him, I'm gonna be so upset. This body looks too good to sound like a geezer." He tossed his shirt to the ground and gave me a flex. "See what I mean?"

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Some humans stress-tested my 40% Free Will rule, and Jordan was definitely one of them. "One, bringing him into the Collective is the only way to bend his authority to our will. Two, the symbiote doesn't change our speech, it just enhances our knowledge. And three, the eventual goal is to overtake most of humanity anyway. We were gonna have to add Shaun sooner or later."

Jordan nodded, though I doubted he was paying any attention me. He was one of the part-time workers I had converted within the past two hours, and so his symbiote half was still checking out his new body. I can't blame it, I suppose.

I wasn't sure this plan was even going to work, so I was glad we managed to succeed. Capturing the part-time college students who worked here had been easy-- a bit of flirting from a tempting body, a kiss to introduce the symbiote, rinse and repeat. Shaun had been much more difficult. We had to resort to ambushing him in the bathroom where there we no cameras. Jordan's strength held him in place while I pried open his jaw to insert the new symbiote. It was far from elegant-- Shaun was stronger than he looked-- but at least it worked.

Shaun finally opened his eyes, and looked at me with a wry grin. "Alright, sir. I know we have a lot to talk about, but let's retreat somewhere else, shall we? It's cramped in here, and I think Jordan is a few moments away from whipping his dick out."

"You're not wrong," I said, shaking my head. "We should probably leave him to it. If nothing else, it will be nice to talk things over someplace a bit... less pungent. I assume you know what is going to be expected of you?"

"I do," Shaun says, crossing his arms. "Although I was hoping to talk to you about that one. I scheduled Darren to work Valentine's Day because I haven't had that day off for the past three years. This body's wife is threatening to make life miserable if I still have to work the holiday despite my recent promotion. I have a proposal for you."

I smiled at the audacity of this symbiote. Clearly its host body had a lot of confidence.

"Darren will still get the day off, of course," Shaun said. "But instead of working the day myself, I'll just tell Jenn that she's going to have to handle the shift solo. We don't need two store managers tomorrow night-- no one goes furniture shopping on Valentine's."

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

"You'll never guess what happened today!" Darren said, greeting me when I arrived home. He and I had been dating for a few weeks now, ever since I was granted control over this host body. Unlike the symbiotes who were mostly extensions of my mind and my personality, I had full control and full autonomy over my decisions. Coming out of the closet was one of the first changes I made to this host's former life.

"Your store is actually closing for a holiday?" I guessed, walking up to him and hugging him from behind. I held him close, feeling the heat of his body against my borrowed chest. Humans were very big on physical contact, and it was a ritual I was more than happy to join.

Darren chuckled as he turned around for a quick kiss. "Okay, so it wasn't a miracle. But it was still pretty crazy! Shaun texted me, and approved my vacation time for tomorrow. Can you believe that? I've never known him to change his mind like that before."

I just smiled at him. "Maybe your District Manager yelled at him about it? You did submit that request a few months ago." As much as I hated feeding white lies and omitted facts to my boyfriend, I couldn't justify telling him my full truth this early in the relationship. Anyway, the only way I'd be filling him with a symbiote would be if we broke up and he posed a risk to my secret. I wanted a relationship with an equal, not a masturbatory fling with a clone of myself. Anyway, what was the phrase? The ends justify the means.

"Well, maybe." He paused a few minutes to consider this possibility before shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know, and I'm not going to question it. I'm just glad you kept those dinner reservations! I'm looking forward to tomorrow's date!" He smiled, and I could feel my heart melting. I would do anything in my power to make him happy.

#male body merge #male possession #alien possession #hivemind #gay male story #queer romance

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atinylittlepain · 20 days

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Part Two

no outbreak!joel miller x f!oc

series playlist

joel miller masterlist

series masterlist

She's tired. He's tired. They're neurotic. They're in love. Something needs to change. They need to change.

word count | 5.1k

chapter content info | 18+ little angst, couples counseling, just two tired people trying to figure out the tangle of their relationship together

a/n | part two is here, and i'd just like to say thank you to everyone being so kind about the first part - i know this isnt the usual peepaw fare, so thanks for giving her a chance - and also big thank you to @wannab-urs for beta-ing this bad boy <3

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This is not a failure. She is not failing. They are not failing. Every Thursday at four o’clock she shuts her laptop and locks her office and stops in the bathroom at work, silently repeats these things to herself in her mind while she rubs her fingers at smudged mascara in the bathroom mirror. Like a mantra, though she’s not sure she’s fully bought into it yet. Because the truth is, she has had plenty of conversations with plenty of girlfriends that, really, they shouldn’t have been having about other girlfriends, not in the room with us girlfriends who, did you hear, started going to therapy and, did you hear, started going to therapy with their, oh no, husbands. Yes, she has been the bitch who has made jokes about death knells and a marriage’s last gasp for breath, jokes about the husband having the emotional range of a goldfish, and the wife being so up the husband’s ass she should give him a colonoscopy while she’s at it. She’s not really making jokes like those anymore.

She’s not supposed to be doing what she’s doing this Thursday at four o’clock. When they first went to Vicky (LMFT, for the record) her fundamental decree had been a period of full separation. Sixteen years, she had asked, and they had nodded, and she had said whoa boy, yeah, y’all need to back off each other before we do anything else. If Paula Dean had a penchant for self-help instead of butter, she’d be something like Vicky. And so, with all the care of a drill sergeant delivering commands, or a mechanic running a diagnostic on a fucked-up car, Vicky had told them how this is going to go. An apartment, she said, don’t care which one of you lives in it. Minimal contact between sessions, right, keep it civil, right, this isn’t for forever, right. So Joel got an apartment, and Tommy helped him move all the furniture in the basement with admittedly minimal, but still present, wariness, and for the last four weeks they’ve been doing everything their beloved herr-therapist tells them. She supposes it’s working, although you can’t really do much fighting when you only see the other person for ninety minutes every Thursday so, the results might be confounded, actually.

“Hey there.” Hey there? What the fuck, what the actual fuck. He doesn’t think he’s ever said those words to her, ever, maybe not to anyone actually. He feels a little insane, a little itchy under the skin, mouth full of cotton, brain too, because they’re not supposed to be doing this, not really. The first time she’s seen the apartment, or, well, the doorway of the apartment, doesn’t really seem interested in stepping further inside, running her curled palm up and down the strap of her purse and right, not here for that. He shuts the door behind him and then they’re on their way to therapy because it’s four o’clock on Thursday and this is what they do now at four o’clock on Thursday.

“Thanks again. I didn’t think my car would still be in the shop today.”

“Oh of course, you said it’s a transmission leak?”

“Yeah, the bad, expensive kind that’s above my paygrade. Guy said they’re still waiting on a part for it.”

“Well I’m off work tomorrow if you need a ride anywhere.”

“Vicky’ll get pissed.”

“If she finds out. Are you gonna tell on me to Vicky?” It’s a joke, they can joke, right? She laughs a little on the end of her words to make it clear, hey, it’s a joke, awkward and out of touch and unsure of what the rules are. But he offers a breath of a laugh, at least, fine, it’s fine, they’re fine, and now they’re silent driving to Vicky’s office.

Should he ask her how her week has been? If the kitchen sink is still leaking? He’s not sure. Not sure about any of it, really. Every week, Vicky asks them how they think they’re doing and Cass doesn’t even hesitate. Good, she says. Not fine, not okay, but good, usually with a sure, terse nod. It takes him a little longer to find the right word to describe how he’s doing. Not sure about that either, but it’s definitely not good. Some things are better, sure, easier not to argue when under foot, easier not to remember all the ghosts they’ve built up around themselves. But at the most basic level, he misses her, even misses arguing with her, in a perpetual state of missing something, walking around and wondering if he left his wallet at home, or if he remembered to call a client about a new build, wondering if he’s missing something essential, a limb or an organ he didn’t know about. No, none of that. Missing something else.

“You’re not wearing your ring.” She flexes her left hand over the steering wheel in response, her very bare ring finger making him feel a quick pinch of something he’ll call anger, though it’s probably something else entirely.

“No, Vicky advised I try not wearing it during the separation.”

“Why the fuck would she tell you to do that?”

“Joel.”

“I’m just asking.”

“You’re swearing.”

“Well, why didn’t she say the same thing to me?”

“Maybe because I told her this is how you would react.”

“I think I’m having a pretty normal reaction to it, actually.”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just for now.”

“Right.”

“It is.”

“Seems like a strange thing to advise someone to do when they’ve been married for nearly two decades.” She parks outside of the office complex that Vicky works in, lets out a long sigh through her nose and doesn’t spare him a glance as she reaches around to the backseat and pulls her purse up front, producing her ring from somewhere deep inside of it and sliding it back on her finger.

“There, are you happy now?”

“Why the hell were you keeping it in your purse?”

“Oh my god, really?”

“That’s a real easy way to lose it is all I’m saying.” The truth is, she’s been keeping it in her purse in order to have easy access to it. Like a pulsepoint, sometimes she just needs to know it’s there, reaching into her purse underneath her desk and yep, still there, still okay. Sometimes she doesn’t get through a whole day without putting it back on. Like reflex, like ghost limb aching. But she’s not about to tell him that.

“Do not bring this up with Vicky.”

“Why not?”

“Because then she’ll know we drove here together.”

“You’re that worried about what Vicky thinks?”

“She’s our therapist, I’m a healthy and appropriate amount worried about what Vicky thinks.”

“You know she’s not the arbiter of marriage just because she has a couple of degrees, right?”

“Really, the arbiter of marriage?”

“Are you doing that thing you do, is that what this is?”

“What thing?”

“Cass.”

“What thing?”

“Are you trying to win therapy?” Fuck him. No, really, fuck him. He’s doing that thing, his thing to her thing, half a smile in the passenger’s seat like he’s got her. Awful, of course he’s got her, smug and sure in his getting her. She doesn’t answer his question, knowing that her silence is an answer in and of itself and not really caring because they have therapy, damn it, and it’s going to be his fault if they’re late to therapy, damn it.

“You know, I’m starting to see why Vicky told us no carpooling to sessions.” Slammed shut, he sighs when she gets out of the car, thinking idly to himself that yes, he doesn’t necessarily disagree with that commandment of their therapist either. At the very least, Cass’ ring is still on her finger. He tried a few times in the past to get her something new, something nicer than the gold band he had given her when they were still young and still not able to afford much of anything, but sure enough in each other to want to keep doing it, all of it, together. No, she would tell him, doesn’t want anything other than the gold band. What she doesn’t know is that he pawned his grandfather’s watch and an electric saw for the ring the shop owner kept in a padlocked display case. Twenty-six years old, and looking back, he thinks he would have sold a whole lot more just to get it for her.

He used to call her pearl. Something about grit that would make her roll her eyes and ask him what late night National Geographic TV special he got that line from, all the while inwardly swooning because sure, she had been baby before, babe, an errant sweetheart even, but pearl was new, and tooth-decayingly sweet. And when he proposed, Sarah bouncing around them like a manic cupid, Cassandra made an ugly sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry, little black velvet box and a ring that was more signet than wedding, simple and gold and a single pearl set in the center of it. Her hands clasped, she runs the pad of her finger over her ring, wordless and worrying it on the elevator ride up to Vicky’s office.

Vicky has a thing for lamps and art prints of naked women. Her waiting room is a little dim, no windows, green velveteen loveseat and two high-backed wooden chairs that they always take when they get here, his eyes scanning over the coffee table laden with back-ordered Psychology Today magazines, headlines about overcoming anxiety and exercising your way out of depression. There had been one about postpartum depression somewhere in the pile the last time they came, but he had made a point of hanging back after Cass left, some excuse about checking an insurance thing with Vicky, though what he really did was pluck out that magazine and throw it away in the men’s restroom down the hall. One less thing to worry about, at the least.

“Hi, you two, come on back.” The sessions always start the same. Vicky asks them how they think the week went, and they both offer up some iteration of fine. Vicky asks them if they’ve been upholding their phase of separation, and she answers before Joel can, pointedly not looking at him, yes, no contact between sessions. But apparently, this week is going to be different.

“We are nearing the end of the total separation phase. After this initial period of cooling off for both of you, the real work can begin.” Right, phases, because Vicky works in phases like this is some sort of military siege. He tries not to roll his eyes at the real work beginning.

“Can either of you remember the last date you went on together?”

“It would’ve been in August, right before the separation.” Cass scoffs at his answer, tilt of her head like, really?

“Tommy and Maria’s baby shower hardly counts as a date. But we did go to dinner at the end of July.”

“I don’t think your work banquet counts either.” Vicky hits them with that look, that yeah, that’s what I thought look, all raised brow and scrunched nose and nodding. Not that she is, but if she, hypothetically, were trying to win therapy, Cassandra thinks she wouldn’t be doing a great job of it right now.

“Right, well, you’ve made my point for me. It’s not unusual for people who have been together for as long as you two have to let things like this fall to the wayside. However, it can be very helpful to reestablish some of these routines. Think of it as marriage maintenance.”

“So you want us to start going on dates again?”

“Yes, but not with each other.” Did she? Did he? Hear that right? Cass is nodding like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world, like, yes, of course, this is just the solution they’ve been looking for. This time, he doesn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m sorry, what?” Both of them look at him like, yes, keep up, please, let us explain this to you very slowly so you can keep up, please. Something about seeing what life is like outside of their marriage, testing the waters, seeing if they still like the same things without their extra marital limb, something about making a decision about their marriage, though he tunes most of that part out because, no, thanks, no new decision has been needed since he got down on one knee during that trip to Galveston, sunscreen and sticky sweet and he’s not sure if he or Sarah was more excited, but he was definitely more nervous. And Cass said yes, and then he wasn’t nervous anymore, not scared anymore, and that’s all there was to it, is to it, right? Right.

“This is the closing exercise of the total separation phase. It’s really important that you both have this opportunity to see what it’s like to be back in the dating pool. Think of it as a trial run of if you decide to make this separation–”

“No, no thanks. That’s not– we’re not those people, so, you know, we can just move onto the next phase.”

“Joel.” The mom voice of all things, and he knows for certain now that Cass is trying to win therapy, nudging her shoe into the side of his, and, come on, really? She’s really bought that hard into what Vicky’s selling? Now that, that isn’t like her, at all.

“What feelings are coming up for you right now, Joel?” She fucking hates that question, and she imagines that he does too, fingers drumming on his knee, long sigh, and she knows that look, that��s his getting ready to bolt look. Big man, big, skittish man who has accidentally nailed his fingers to house frames and hardly shed a tear. But feelings? Yeah, forget it.

“Uh, I guess I’m confused as to why that is so important for us to do. We came here to help our– to help us, not to create more problems.”

“And you think that if you and Cassandra went on dates, one date, with other people, that it would create more problems in your marriage?” Well, it’s hardly rocket science, Vicky, though judging by the way she’s speaking to him, he’s pretty sure he failed some kind of test of hers. He doesn’t particularly care.

“I imagine it’d do that to anyone’s marriage.”

“It’s just one date, it’s a part of the process.” She’s starting to get pissed, and trying very hard not to show it in front of Vicky should she get the what feelings are coming up for you treatment. When they agreed to start going to therapy, like a pair of dogs gagging down a pill, they had both agreed to put their full effort into it, and if Vicky wasn’t in the room with them currently, Cassandra would sharply remind him of that agreement.

“Maybe I should clarify the expectations around this exercise. It’s one date, preferably with people outside of your shared social circle, and it would be best if the focus is just on the date, no sexual relations.”

“Oh really, you think that’d be best?”

“Joel.” He gives her a slack and slanted look, speaking two different languages, apparently. And really, she doesn’t see what the big deal is. One date versus sixteen years is pretty obvious math for her to square up, though it doesn’t seem to be for him. But, watching him engage in psychological tennis with Vicky, some new jab dripping in sarcasm for every reassurance she tries to offer him, the realization comes to Cassandra slowly, simply. Joel is scared.

By the time they leave Vicky’s office, he feels deflated, defeated, because yes, they are, apparently, going to do this fucking exercise that fucking Vicky has fucking assigned to them, scheduled in three weeks instead of one to give them time to do this fucking exercise that fucking Vicky has fucking assigned to them.

“Can’t we just, you know, say we did it but not actually do it?”

“Are you serious right now?” Judging by the look she gives him, a quick, sharp flicker of her eyes before she focuses back on the road, he thinks he probably shouldn’t say anything else. He shouldn’t, but, well.

“Is this about pleasing Vicky, or are you just that interested in dating someone else?”

“Don’t be a child about this, Joel. It’s a therapeutic–”

“It’s bullshit is what it is. I don’t– I already know what I want, and I don’t need to go testing the waters to be sure of it. What I’m not so sure about is if you can say the same.” She can’t put her finger on anything specific, probably just a slow-building amalgamation of things. Stressful week at work, and the leaking sink getting worse, and her doctor increasing a medication dosage that’s made her body feel like something other than her body, and this fucking therapy and this fucking trying and she’s trying so hard and she feels like she’s failing and when she glances at him he looks hurt, really hurt, a close crumple in his face, deep frown, and it frustrates her because all she’s trying to do is do it right, and all she gets is this constant rhythm of resistance, this push and pull and yes, it’s all of that, all of that creeping up her throat tight and hot and curling behind her eyes sending salt pinpricks and sharp pangs. When the first sob breaks, it does so as a gasp, like a small and stunned thing in her chest. And, well, it’s never uphill from there, is it?

“Do you– do we need to pull over?”

“No, I don’t need to fucking pull over. I’m not an invalid, I can cry and drive at the same time.” Except it doesn’t come out quite like that, not smooth like that. The words get stop-started with each new shudder, new stutter, hiccuping on fucking and invalid. The world has gone to slanted stained-glass through all her tears.

Unsure what to do, but that’s nothing new. He doesn’t say anything else, watches her through the wary side of his eye, sobs turning into something more subdued, little wounded sounds high in her throat, a choice fuck you with a little more bite behind it when someone cuts her off merging onto the highway. He feels useless, feels like, maybe, this is what Vicky should be talking with them about instead of her siege on marriage plan. All he knows is that he seems to get it wrong every time, so this time, he doesn’t interject or intervene, doesn’t say any more than he already has. He lets her cry, and he lets her drive.

He doesn’t know when it happened. When he decided he was going to fix things for her, or just fix her, really. His lady in pieces and he was going to put her back together, and it seemed like every time he tried to, she just shattered a little more. That April is the obvious answer, the most shattered he had ever seen her. But the fighting had started before then, and so had the fixing that wasn’t really fixing. Like a relief, like a release, the slow realization that no, it never worked, and no, it was never going to work. The sobs turn into shivers turn into something even smaller. By the time they pull up in front of his apartment complex, it has passed.

“I just– I want to do this right, this therapy thing, and I want it to work, and I want it to work so we can be okay again. That’s what I want.” The words hang between them. He makes no move to get out of the car, and she counts her inhales in the silence, waiting for him to say something, anything. It feels like a child’s logic, or maybe a hail Mary, and she knows it, feels a little insane saying it, the words fitting strangely in her mouth. The brief wondering comes to her, what would she have said about where they are now to her girlfriends, what snark, what sharp jokes at their expense? Him in an apartment and a fifteen minute drive separating them and a woman named Vicky unraveling (and in theory, putting back together) their marriage in phases, fucking phases, and fucking Vicky. She doesn’t want to go on a date with someone else, and she doesn’t know why she’s taking Vicky’s instructions as gospel. But she does know, doesn’t she? It’s not about Vicky, not about Vicky and her fucking phases. Fixing, being fixed, that’s what she wants.

“So, you’re saying you want us to date other people in order to fix our marriage.” Grateful that she takes it for the joke he meant it as, it’s just enough to slough off some of the tension, roll of her eyes, please. They both let out a sigh, too tired for much else. But maybe, he thinks, this counts as progress, sitting here with her in the car and the sun washing everything down burnt and orange. He watches her eyes drop shut for a moment, fine lines like porcelain fissures and he loves those lines, liked catching her in the bathroom with her face pressed up close to the mirror and her fingers pulling those lines taut around her eyes, her mouth. He’d pull her hands away from her face, ask her if she was planning her halloween costume for next year, earning a scoff and a roll of her eyes and her trying to pull away from him, and he wouldn’t let her. Making it better with kisses to those lines, and eventually, her pressing her fingers as light as prayers over his, an implicit wondering, where did the time go?

“Look, if it really makes you that uncomfortable, let’s just lie to Vicky. We could still get like, an A-minus in therapy if we leave just one thing out.”

“I didn’t realize therapy came with a grade.” He smiles, all soft, and she can’t help the sheepish bloom in her chest, rolling her lips back into her mouth to hide her own grin, eventually, reluctantly, admitting in a quiet, skewed to the side voice, okay, so maybe, maybe I was doing that thing, that winning thing. He doesn’t say anything, and that’s a mercy. Just nods, of course, and of course, he knew, maybe even before she did, and is that knowing not a mercy too? She thinks it is.

“I want to do this right too, Cass. And, I mean, we’re paying Vicky enough money that we should do what she tells us to.”

“Are you saying you want to do it then?”

“Want is a strong word.”

“Okay, are you saying you’re willing to do it?”

“It’s just the one?”

“Just the one.”

“Alright, fuck it, let’s do it. We better get a goddamn A-plus at the end of this.”

“Mmm, gold stars too.” Another sigh, another settling. How nice, another sigh, another settling. It’s a strange equation, but she thinks it still adds up. Neither of them want to do this, not really, but they’re willing to, and they’re willing to because of each other. Willing to try and get it right for each other. Just, well, ignore the finer details of what getting it right entails.

“You hear from Sarah lately?”

“On Monday, yeah. Called to wish me a happy birthday.”

“Well, only off by four days, not too bad.”

“Oh no, she called on Monday because she was, and I quote, too busy the rest of the week to call.”

“Wow.”

“Right?”

“Is it bad that sometimes I kinda hate it?”

“Hate what?”

“That she’s like, a fully-formed person now. I miss the days when she was a little blob who liked holding onto me by one of my belt loops.” He has to smile, nod, because he knows exactly what she means. And the truth of it is that Sarah was so good, maybe the best, if he’s allowed to give his completely biased opinion. And the other truth, Cass is, was, one of those people simply meant to be a parent, a mother. He remembers when they first started dating, and all the exhausting maneuvering he did, getting his parents or Tommy to watch Sarah, a string of canceled dinner plans when his kid couldn’t seem to stop catching things at daycare. He was sure that Cass would lose interest every time another piece of his reality was revealed to her. After all, he was not unfamiliar with being left behind. But that never happened, she stayed every time.

It was Cass who first suggested it. Didn't want to impose, but what if, maybe we could, would it be okay if, why don’t we. They went to the zoo that weekend, if he remembers correctly, Sarah in tow, shy at first around the woman she barely knew, though she bloomed over the course of the day. Yes, he thinks, it was the zoo, because he remembers how by the end of the day, Cass had her on her hip, as easy as anything, so she could get a better view of the rhinos. He knows now that, even in those earliest days, she loved his kid just as much as she loved him. He knows now what a gift that was, and continues to be.

“She’s gonna be alright, Cass. We did good with her.” She sighs, yeah, we did. She had been worried about telling her about the whole lieutenant-LMFT thing, the whole quasi-separation thing, but that was a direct command from Vicky, letting the family know what was going on. Sarah had taken it surprisingly well when she called, could be good, mom, like a reset. Of course, they kept the worst of it away from her, and of course, she still knew something had changed, something not right between them. No one was left unscathed after that April.

From the start, loving him included loving Sarah. It was never difficult for her to do both. Sweet girl, bright like the sun girl, rounded cheeks and bouncing curls, and Cassandra found that her love for her had a particular effect on her heart. Whenever small hand reached for one of hers, whenever small face tucked into her neck, whether tear-damp or milk-tired, and eventually, whenever she was given the name mom, like a stop and restart of her heart, like something turning back on inside her and finally working right. An everything kind of love, to not only be chosen by him, but to be chosen by her too.

“Well, anyways, Vicky didn’t make any stipulations about birthdays, so I have something for you.” Just a small thing, she says, leaning over the console and into the back seat, and he knows better than to say no, shouldn’t have, because there’s already a perfect package being placed in his hands, navy blue wrapping paper and a white bow, and her hand cups underneath his for just a moment, there and gone.

The truth is she had already picked out this gift two months ago, what feels like a lifetime before this separation. Now, watching him open it, she’s a little worried it had been presumptuous of her, if not completely narcissistic. But if he thinks that, he makes no show of it, lets out a quiet laugh as he takes the watch out of the box and holds it up in the fading light to look at it.

“It’s a little sappy, maybe. But, well, we have something that kinda matches now.” Something is unfurling in his chest, heat loosening something he didn’t even realize he had been tightening up around. It’s a beautiful watch, rich leather strap and polished silver. And the face of it catches and shimmers a little in the light. He knows right away that it’s mother of pearl.

Here, she says, let me, and he does, feeling a little indulgent watching her fasten the watch around his wrist, and definitely breaking one of fucking Vicky’s fucking rules when he ducks his head down and steals a kiss, another one, letting the third deepen just a little, both of them humming because missed this, missed this, didn’t realize how much, but missed this.

“Thank you, pearly.” It feels good to be so close to him, noses brushing and smiles curling around each other. Feels like a relief.

“Happy birthday, one day ahead. We could, you know, do something tomorrow? Get dinner maybe?” Before he can answer, say yes, she’s already caught herself, sheepish smile and pulling a little further away and oh, right. She says sorry, wasn’t thinking, and they do an awkward dance around the whole thing, right, yeah, probably shouldn’t, right, yeah. He is not a hateful man, and it would be too strong to say he’d wish Vicky harm. But if something were to happen, in theory, that’d make Vicky go the fuck away, in theory, he wouldn’t be too torn up about it.

“See you next Thursday then?”

“Well, next next Thursday, because we have to do the– yeah.”

“Right, yeah.” Right, yeah, this is the part where he gets out of the car. The part where he goes up to his apartment and she drives home and they don’t eat dinner together and they don’t brush their teeth together and they don’t go to sleep together. Right, yeah. They say goodnight. He’d like to say love, but he doesn’t. She’d like to say love, but she doesn’t. And they part ways.

She hates being in this house alone. Leaves all the lights on all hours of the day and checks all the locks three times before going upstairs to bed. Passes by the closed door that remains closed with her breath held. She knows it makes no sense, but she’s been sleeping in the guestroom, makes the whole thing a little easier. Always had a tendency toward insomnia, tossing and turning brain and body.

When they were just starting to get more serious, and she was just starting to stay over at his more often, she got worried that eventually it'd drive him mad enough for the whole thing to not be worth it, neither of them getting much sleep as they learned how to share a bed together. And she doesn't remember how it started exactly, maybe out of a moment of pure exasperation, him draping just enough of his weight over her to press slower breath into her lungs and still her body. It became a routine, she'd ask could you? And he'd already know what she was asking for without her having to say any more than that. What she also doesn't remember, when that stopped working, when she stopped asking, and he stopped answering. She supposes it all happened slowly, just like the rest of it.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller fic #joel miller au

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reallyromealone · 1 year

Text

Uncanny Valley reader

I don't remember what part

Male reader

Violence, fluff

🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷(name)s move was prompt.

Ran watching the cats explore the new area and a majority of (name)s belongings in storage (mostly his stuffed toys and furniture), The Bonten executive excited to have his strange boyfriend around more often.

(Name) held his hello kitty blanket and squishmallow confused and Ran cooed "you can put your stuff anywhere darling, my home is yours"

(Name) tentatively put his stuff in little areas, a stuffed plush there and his blanket on the bed.

That was another thing ran was going to enjoy.

Sharing a bed with (name).

Ran was determined to be a good boyfriend to (name) who also did try his best in his own way, the broker letting ran cuddle him and even wear one of rans shirts to bed.

Ran didnt want (name) finding a new apartment.

Though the others?

They couldn't stand it.

And boy did it FILL RAN WITH SO MUCH JOY.

(Name) and rans schedules were surprisingly similar though ran did have to drag (name) from his computer to bed when the man wouldn't sleep with the promise of more Cat videos and people watching at the park.

(Name) liked how ran smelled.

He always smelt very nice, expensive.

(Name) never imagined having a relationship much less being the little spoon, letting ran take the lead in the relationship. He didn't think he would enjoy not being in control but Ran seemed to know what he was doing so (name) let him do as he pleased.

Ran learned (name)s likes and dislikes, he wasn't fond of big fancy dinners often, the broker liked private rooms to eat and ran didn't mind, less likely to get killed that way.

(Name) was also not easy to impress as the man was always on edge but Ran learned what he liked.

Cute things and soft things.

Ran was truly dating a cat.

The two got ready at the same time, Ran splitting his closet for (name) "you have so many plush toys and blankets but three suits"

"Yes?"

"We have very different priorities, I know how much Bonten pays you so why don't you buy suits baby?"

Ran also learned (name) liked nicknames and pet names but only out of the public eye "Why would I need more?"

"Why not?"

Today was a rare day off, ran deciding to take (name) out clothes shopping, the man having one set of pajamas, three suits and five casual pants and shirts.

Ran was appaled.

Ran managed to convince his boyfriend to go clothes shopping with the promise of buying him a limited edition plush toy.

What they weren't counting on was Bonten tagging along in disguises..

"Wear this..." Mikey commanded to the deadpan broker, handing him a god awful shirt but the man just shrugged and went into the change room and tried it on.

"When can I get my plush" (name) said deadpan, clearly not enjoying this experience and ran wanted to scream, not at (name) but at the others who were taking up his time but Ran appreciated how (name) always focused his attention on his boyfriend when asking questions. "(Name)! Try this!" Koko beamed and held clearly women's lingerie and the broker just looked cold and dead before going and changing into his clothes and walking out of the store "God damn it..." Ran mumbled.

Over the months with (name) he learned (name)s tells and he knew (name) was very much done.

He ended up finding him at a gatcha machine corner getting little keychains.

(Name) was beyond uncomfortable, he didn't have experience with a lot of people at once and malls were only used for people watching or info gathering.

Not people who he knew didn't like him months prior suddenly wanting attention.

He didn't understand.

"Hey baby, cute keychains" Ran joked and (name) looked at him "I'm not some doll to be dressed, can we end this errand and return to your apartment?" (Name) mumbled gripping the keychains, he didn't even get his plush like promised.

Ran nodded and ended up ditching Bonten (save for Rindō who he asked to get the plush and a few other cute things for (name)) and went back to the penthouse "they're insistence is confusing and unwelcome" (name) said simply "yeah, I wish they would lay off too..." Ran said bringing him to the livingroom where the cats were currently very entranced with the birds on the balcony.

Ran smiled as (name) and him ended up cuddling on the couch, the broker clearly overwhelmed and overstimulated and after head scratches and shows Ran introduced (name) to, the man was out cold in comfy clothes.

He looked absolutely precious.

People often forgot who and what (name) was and did.

He was absolutely precious to Ran but seeing him beat a guy senseless with a briefcase and an empty expression was both horrifying and *hot* to the elder Haitani. The man was half conscious as (name) bent down "don't try and swindle me" he hissed out and bashed the guys face into the floor before getting up.

(Name) recently began working with Bonten fully no longer as an information broker but as an intelligence gatherer strictly under Bonten.

"I don't like this apartment" (name) said simply as he looked it over, it was a very nice place, state of the art appliances and an excellent view of the city "what don't you like about it?" Ran asked as Rindō checked out the rooms "it's not right"

This had been (name)s answer for the past four apartments and Ran was confused, what was wrong with these places?

Then it clicked.

And Ran was smug.

(Name) now only slept in Rans bed, in Rans clothes and cuddling ran.

He got ready with Ran.

He ate with Ran.

He did most things with Ran.

What was missing from the apartments was Ran.

"Still looking for an apartment?" Koko asked (name) who was walking to his new office as (name) technically counted as an executive as he was in charge of an entire sector.

"Yes" (name) said smiling, he didn't like Kokos company or most of their company "well an apartment opened up in my building, I can put a good word in for you!" He offered and (name) shook his head "I have decided to continue my residency with Ran" (name) said simply and the energy in the office plummeted as the men lowkey pouted but (name) didn't care "does this mean we can move your stuff to my place fully?' Ran grinned fully aware of what he's doing.

"Yes" (name) looked very unsettling as he walked into his office and Ran followed "you know you don't have to do that if you don't want to" Ran said softly and (name) was twitchy "it's fine" he said stiffly "is it?'

"I... I enjoy your company greatly... I don't want to be without it... Is it acceptable for me to continue?"

"Absolutely baby" he said kissing (name) softly and spoke "we can take your stuff out of storage... I have three extra rooms, we can put all you're cute stuff in there"

"Stuffed toys on the bed?"

"You can have five"

"Deal"

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers fluff #male reader #bonten x reader #ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #haitani ran

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animelovelover123 · 1 year

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Devil May Cry Boys Dealing With Your Violent, Emotional Breakdown

Parings: Dante, Reboot Dante, Reboot Vergil, Nero, V x Reader (reader is gender neutral but there are some comments that may seem to veer one way or the other)

This is a weirdly specific idea but it came to mind while trying to calm myself down from an emotional dysregulated episode. I’ve never gotten violent with people but I have trashed some things in my blind panic and rage, so the physical attacking aspect might not be too realistic. I tried.

Disclaimer: This story shouldn’t be taken as a serious representation of mental troubles or as a guide on how to deal with someone who is having an episode.

Trigger Warnings: Forceful confinement. Attacking others and (in one case) being attacked. Mentions of wanting to hurt others and yourself.

Dante

“Welcome home.” Dante greeted, fully expecting the glare you shot him considering he could hear your stomping and cursing from across the street.

Something on your mission had clearly ticked you off and Dante intended to stay out of it.

However, things change when he gets up from his desk and starts towards your shared bedroom, hoping to take refuge there while the storm passed.

You start accusing him of abandoning you and not caring about you.

“Hey now, you know that’s not what this is about.” He keeps up his joking tone, hiding the honest offense he took at your claims.

He knows that once this episode passes, you’ll apologize and tell him not to take the things you say in this state seriously.

But he also knew that right now, in this manic state, you do believe everything you're saying. He has seen it and, once upon a time, felt it himself, the overwhelming feeling that the world and every creature in it are against you.

So he stayed, still intending to let you thrash around to your heart’s content. That is until you yank a Devil Arm from the wall.

“Whoa there cowboy, no need for that.” Even in the hands of someone who couldn’t call upon the demonic power within it, a Devil Arm could still cause some serious damage. Dante may be able to handle quite a bit of abuse and any furniture crushed in your rampage could be replaced, but god forbid you hurt yourself.

He grabs hold of the hand guard and tries to pluck it from your grip but you hang on like your life depended on it, screaming, pulling, swearing, kicking, and clawing at Dante in an attempt to make him let go.

His quips and prods come naturally. He teasingly says things like “Feeling feisty today aren’t we kitten?” and “I didn’t know my sweet little kitten had claws” as the only damage you are able to do to him is giving him a few nicks with a jagged nail you had broken in your rage.

Eventually, he lifts the Devil Arm up and out of your reach.

Instead of hanging there you give up on that one. You let go and make a dash for another weapon lodged in the shop’s walls.

“Alright, playtimes over.” Dante drops the Devil Arm he had confiscated on his desk and wraps his thick, strong arms around your waist, pinning your arms down at your sides. “I’m gonna have to put you in time out.”

He lifts you off the ground with ease and carries you to the couch.

You can kick, scream, and struggle around all you want but there isn’t much you can do while in his lap, your back to him.

He holds you tight, only loosening his grip a bit if you start to wheeze, cough, hyperventilate, or any other action that suggested you weren’t getting enough air.

“That’s it kitten, let it all out.” He coos between your incoherent shouts.

When you aren’t thrashing your head around, he places gentle kisses along your shoulders and up the back of your neck.

As you settle, his iron grip transitions into soothing rubbing, messaging your arms and thighs.

When you finally relax into him and start muttering apologies for your actions and what you said his jokes soon come back in full force.

Not quite immediately though as he first assures you that “It’s alright, your fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

I briefly considered writing separate entries for different stages in Dante’s life, but I felt that the only thing that would really change was how moody he got in response. So instead, I made this general scenario and slipped in some angst. Also, I had no intention of having ‘kitten’ be your go-to nickname but the quips I came up with just fit the name so well so I kept using it ^^;.

Reboot Dante

Mocking each other, playfully arguing, and coming up with creative insults were just a part of your guys’ relationship. Being able to take smack talk and throw it right back was something Dante loved about you. And from your two’s bubbling anger came rougher kisses and better sex so it was usually a win-win.

This, along with having anger issues himself and being a generally confrontational guy, resulted in Dante not realizing that your mood was more severe than any other time you got pissy. If anything, he takes this opportunity to toy with you, having fun lighting your short fuse as you worked on a mission together.

“Aww, you didn’t get that? You know, I’d spell it out for you, but that’s assuming you know your ABC’s.”

“Oh ya, you’re totally glowing babe. But I think it’s from the radiation coming off your toxic ass.”

“You're worth every penny babe. That being said, let me show you to the discount section because I found a spot for you.”

It was all fun and games for Dante until you started making crazy claims with an all-too-serious voice.

You screamed about how much you hated the world, the people in it, and yourself. That was all relatively fine. He agreed with a lot of what you said about the assholes in the world, though not about yourself. But then you started hinting at wanting to hurt yourself.

He tells you to chill out in what may seem like his usually cocky tone but anyone who knew him well enough would have caught the twinge of uncertainty and fear that crept out.

Dante turns away from you, whips out a cigarette, and lights it. “Let’s just get this shit over with.”

Once the two of you were done with this mission and out of limbo then he could get you both something to drink to calm down. Or maybe he would hand you off to Kat.

Out of all the moments for Kat to split off to do something else, why did it have to be the time Dante needed her help the most?

He can hear you stomp after him screaming your lungs out but he isn’t in the mood to yell back anymore.

Dante keeps his glaring eyes straight ahead, his shoulders tense up, and the pinch hold on his cigarette grows stronger, denting the filter.

Then, everything escalates all too suddenly.

His shoulder is grabbed. He is spun around. His cigarette snaps and tumbles into his hand where it quickly burns a hole through his glove and skin. You’re screaming in his face, asking if this is what he wants. Theirs a gun between you two. Dante’s fight or flight reflexes kick in and his instincts choose what it always did.

He slams his clenched fist up into your gut, knocking the air out of your lungs. You drop your gun and crumble to the floor, hands wrapping around your stomach as your desperate attempts for air turn into violent coughing.

“Shit! Fuck! I’m sorry I-” Dante reaches down to you but when you, whether intentionally or not, jerk away from his shaking hand his heart drops into his churning stomach.

“Kaaaaat!” Dante turns and takes a few steps away from you. “Kat! Where the hell are you?”

“I’m here Dante.” Kat's white lucid form comes sprinting around a corner at the rare sound of panic in Dante’s voice. “What happened? Are you guys okay?” She quickly notices you curled up on the ground fighting for breath and rushes over.

“Get them out of limbo.” He orders, unable to look at your now crying face out of shame.

“What about you?”

“I’ll stay here and finish the mission. Just get them somewhere safe. Help them.” Because God knows Dante can’t. He’ll just fuck up more than he already has.

I believe that reboot Dante would, by far, be the worst at handling violent emotional breakdowns. This man can’t keep himself in check when walking down the street half the time. There is no way he can navigate someone else’s emotions. But now that he has you, Kat, and Vergil (people that he wants to protect and keep a positive relationship with) he is trying to reign in his anger around them. Bad habits die hard though. That was my thought process.

Reboot Vergil

It started with you and Vergil worrying over something having gone wrong on your recent mission. This includes your own failings, which he will point out and calmly instruct you on how you could have done better.

When he notices that you are getting far more riled up about this than usual his own negative comments lessen and eventually stop when you take on a doomful mindset.

At first, he stays calm, telling you that “things will be dealt with”, “everything would be fine”, and “no need to get so worked up”.

But as you kept yelling and start stomping around, he grows impatient, telling you to go cool off somewhere else as he tries to gently lead you out of the room.

Not taking this well you fight back, getting up in his face and screaming at him.

He doesn’t back down though, standing up straight and glaring down at you. He shouts your name at you like an angry parent trying to assert dominance and instill slight threat.

When you suddenly start physically attacking you catch him off guard and get a single good hit on him, a punch to the jaw. Any attempt after that though he easily blocks or evades single-handedly, his other hand holding his sore jaw.

He doesn’t try to grab or restrain you though, not until you turn your violence onto the objects around you two.

Ungodly amounts of irreplaceable documents were spread around the room. Terabytes of data on encrypted memory sticks. Stacks of incriminating papers. Ancient and fragile books. All were so easily destroyable and it was all the same to you in your blind rage.

So, begrudgingly, Vergil retrieves one of the pairs of handcuffs used by The Order from a draw and wrestles you into a sitting position. He cuffs your hands behind your back and around an unpowered radiator mounted to the wall.

As you thrash and scream Vergil tries to do something to distract himself, some work or making a drink. All the while one of his hands rubs his already-healed jaw as if it could soothe his non-physical pain.

Once your adrenalin runs dry and you are left sitting slack against the wall, Vergil approaches you. He goes down on one knee in front of you, making himself less threatening, though still above your slouched form.

“I’m going to take the cuff off now alright?” He doesn’t proceed until you respond with a quiet affirmation.

He unlatches each cuff separately, taking the time to gently slide each of your hands free, delicately holding your soar wrists which were red and limp from the struggle.

“Would you like something to drink?” He offers as he stands up, still gently holding your wrists, urging you to stand. When you don’t move, he places your hands on your lap.

“I’ll be right back.” He promises, stepping out of the room momentarily. He returns with a mug of water, an orange, and an ice pack.

He lays them in front of you like an offering to a goddess. He doesn’t ask for an explanation or an apology. He doesn’t ask you to leave nor does he leave you. He’ll let you reflect in silence for as long as you need while he works close by.

“If you want to talk, I’ll be here to listen, always.”

This is the first of the set I wrote (though not the first one I thought up) so it is a bit different from the others as I was still trying to settle on a style. He is also the only one in this group that would probably have actual restraining equipment on hand to use on you and would know how to do it. The order does some shady shit so you’re not the first person he has had to tie up. Though you are the only one to get such nice treatment after ;).

Nero

Despite the fact that Nero is guilty of violently lashing out at people and things, he is wholly unprepared for your breakdown.

To him, it started like any other argument you two had. Your voices grew louder, your brows knit together in glares, and baseless claims, threats, and swearing spilled from each of your mouths recklessly. Kyrie was fussing in the background, trying her best to calm the situation with her words.

But then you started to hit things. You punch a wall, breaking through the drywall and knocking things off it. You kicked at tables and shelves, rattling the things on them into falling over or to the floor.

“The hell is your problem?!” He more so accused than asked.

He doesn’t approach you though, yelling back at you from a distance as he felt his right arm flex as the adrenalin in his body was making his arm crave violence, but he wasn’t going to lay a hand on you.

That was his intention, but then you started throwing things. In your blind rage you were just flinging things around randomly, but then you threw a cup in Nero’s direction.

He easily doges with a lean and it sores past him. It shatters against the wall… right beside Kyrie.

She lets out a surprised shriek, jumping back as the broken shards graze her dress though do not cause any damage.

Nero snaps, his protective brother instincts kicking in as he storms over to you.

“Nero, wait.” Kyrie pleads, reaching for his arm but he brushes it away.

“Stay back Kyrie, I’ve got this.” Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do but he had to stop you.

“Please don’t hurt them.” Kyrie cries though she heeds Nero’s demand and backs out of the room, knowing that she would just be in the way.

Of course Nero wasn’t going to hurt you. He could never. And that’s the problem. He doesn’t know how to stop someone’s violence without resorting to it himself.

As he watches you scream and throw things, which he makes sure to catch and drop on the floor, while also crying and shaking he is reminded of an angry and frightened child lashing out. You remind Nero of his childhood self.

As a child… what did people do to stop him?

A distant memory of himself and Credo flashes in Nero’s mind.

Now within arms reach you take a wild swing at him. Nero uses your momentum against you, spinning around you and pushing you forward while tripping you so you fall to the wood floor.

You hear the stomp of boots on either side of you. As you prepare to lift up onto your hands and knees, a massive weight lands on your lower back, forcing you back down.

Nero was sitting on you, pinning you to the ground.

Though not totally understanding what had you acting like this, Nero could tell that you weren’t in your right mind and you weren’t able to communicate coherently until you calmed down. So he kept you under control until you two were able to work things out together.

Though he is unable to use his legs, as they were straddling your hips, his hands are free. He doesn’t want to use them though, worrying about hurting you with his overpowered right arm. However, he will stop you from hurting yourself by tossing any sharp object out of your reach and holding your head steady if you start slamming it against the floor.

He also responds to a lot of your accusations once realizing that many of them were, whether directly or indirectly, self-deprecating.

“Broken? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re not a failure.”

“You just need to calm down, you’re fine.”

“Of course I love you.”

Like Reboot Dante, Nero has an attitude problem and is prone to starting/egging people into fights. However, Nero has enough self-control to not hit things he knows he shouldn’t. Like, no matter how pissed off he got at Kyrie (unlikely considering she is a saint) he would NEVER lay a hand on her. I wanted to implant that feeling here.

His solution to this is childish (fun fact I got this idea from a past experience where a family member did this to child me when I was having a tantrum) but he grew up having his anger funneled into combat training for The Order of the Sword so he doesn’t really have many experiences dealing with anger any other way.

You leave a scratch on the side of Nico’s van by how forcefully you slammed the door open.

“So you’re gonna bust up my van now dickhead?” She screamed, trying to follow you to continue your guys’ argument but Nero wrapped her in a Nelson hold to stop her before she started a fistfight she wouldn’t win. “How about you shove a tampon in before coming back!”

As Nico thrashed, shouting stranger and stranger insults, and Nero attempted to get her to chill out, V silently slid out of the van.

He had stayed silent through the argument, observing the situation unfold but not feeling the need or right to intervene. This decision had been solidified when Nero tried to interject and had only made things worse.

His lack of action, however, did not equate to a lack of concern for your well-being.

“Are they done yet?” Griffon said wearily as he was summoned, having evaporated to safety the moment his mocking comments had gotten him grabbed by the leg and tossed into the front windshield of the van.

In his defense, according to himself, that attack wouldn’t have worked on him if his master didn’t ban him from hurting you.

“Scout ahead for demons,” V instructed while calling Shadow out from the floor. His eyes stayed glued to your form as you stomped down a dirt path leading away from the city and into a lightly forested area. Though with it being the fall season many of the trees were close to bald of any foliage. “and lead them away from any danger.” V added with a stroke to the top of Shadow’s head.

Shadow darted back into the ground and slid after you.

“Alright lover boy,” Griffon took off from V’s outstretched arm. “but I’m gonna keep high. I don’t feel like becoming Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Oh,” V called Griffon’s attention again who had already risen higher than the sparse trees. “and keep an eye out for anything… derelict.”

“Oh-ho! Now we’re talking.”

And so, you were tracked and led through the woods. Griffon zoomed around overhead, signaling to Shadow whenever your path would lead to a pack of demons while looking for an abandoned structure you could ‘play’ with. Shadow didn’t so much push you into any direction, but more so shepherd you through acts like blocking your current path and making attention-grabbing sounds and/or movements along safer roads. And V studied you from a distance, keeping you in earshot while casually avoiding your line of sight.

Though he was following you out of a desire to watch over you while allowing you the space to vent your frustrations, he also found a sort of fascination in your outrage.

The lover of art in him was attracted to pure, intense, unfiltered emotions. As if he was watching an interpretive dance or a slam poetry performance, V studied your movements, your posture, the words you spoke and how you said them, trying to decipher them to understand the underlying feelings from which they originated from.

By the time you finished tearing apart the remains of what was once a cabin, he had a firm grasp on what had truly set your heart ablaze.

He doesn’t approach you until you slump to the floor in exhaustion. Your head lolls back as your tired muscles surrender to your weight. You start to fall back but are quickly caught by V’s arm sliding around your shoulders and supporting your neck.

He flouts down to one knee as he lowers you onto the awaiting Shadow, the feline’s warmth and silky coat cradling around you as your new support in this almost laying position.

As your body and consciousness fight over whether or not to sleep here and now, you feel a soothing warmth glide up your cheek.

“Rest now love.” V’s fingers glide up the side of your face and into your hair. He could discuss his theories on what feelings deep in your heart had caused you this pain after you had recovered your strength, even if that meant sleeping under the fall sunset somewhere deep in the woods. “I’ll be here to watch over you.”

This was the last one I wrote since I am still getting a grasp on V’s, and his familiar’s, mannerisms. I think I did okay. This one ended up the longest and I blame this on integrating Griffon and Shadow, which I also think I did okay writing.

Also, I debated whether to have Griffon present as you fell asleep, maybe cuddling up on you for warmth, but I feel like he would talk your ear off and not let you rest so I left him out.

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treasureofmammon · 6 months

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How would their engagement rings be? (2/2) 💚🩷❤️💜

Characters: Satan x gn!reader / Asmodeus x gn!reader / Beelzebub x gn!reader / Belphegor x gn!reader

Warnings: Gender neutral reader. Long (sorry, not sorry). Also, s3x is heavily implied (so Minors don't interact, please). After that, just fluff.

Summary: You and him have been in an official relationship for quite some time now. During the daily life of your relationship, he realizes that he can no longer live without you. He needs to show you that his love for you is eternal. The first step is to buy the engagement ring, but what is it like? How did he come up with the idea?

[Part 1 here - Lucifer x gn!reader / Mammon x gn!reader / Leviathan x gn!reader]

[Notes: The following characters belong to the mobile game "Obey me: shall we date", and are owned by Solmare Corporation. This is a mere work of fan-fiction. | GN!Reader | This is one of my first times sharing what I write, so please be kind. English is not my first language so there might be orthographic and syntax errors. | I had this idea after looking at jewelry in Pinterest. If someone has already done something similar, I was not trying to copy anything or anyone's ideas. | Details may vary from original storyline. | I hope I did justice to these characters; I had a hard time writing, but I still wanted to make beautiful stories].

💚Satan💚

What type of ring?

Satan knows these human streets too well. As he strolls down the path, his gorgeous green eyes and his blonde hair go almost unnoticed. He could very well blend in as any other human in this old city; that is if he wasn't so handsome. Not that he cares about something so shallow as looks.

As he approaches the antiques' store, he feels his heart throb fast. He takes a deep breath and enters the small and cozy shop. To his left, old victorian furniture; on the ceiling, rare lamps with creative details; in front of him, vintage clothing, similar to the ones he got once inspired in Sherlock Holmes' tales. And, to his right, human books from all over the world.

Satan's eyes widen, and a genuine smile bursts into his face. It's a delightful sight that only occurs at rare moments like these, and if you were there with him, you'd be so enamored by it. "Those just came in yesterday, sweetheart"—, the old woman says with a kind demeanor —"These are from Mexico, and those came from Ethiopia...".

Of course, Satan had already noticed. The moment he got in, he knew just by the smell that the store had "new" merchandise. These books, from all over the world, texts with stories and magic so diverse and so interesting: Cuba, Mexico, Nicaragua, Ethiopia, Morocco, Egypt, Spain, China, Thailand, and Japan. All of these with their own human incantations and curses.

Satan feels the temptation to check them all, meticulously. His index finger follows each of the book's spines: "Enciclopedia de amarres", "妖怪", "من اللعنات والسحر", "Black magic and love potions", "Tarot et avenir", etc.

However, suddenly, he feels like being pulled back from his trance, because there's a buzz in his right pocket, announcing a text message from his brother, Lucifer: "Lord Diavolo and myself are waiting for you in front of the Louvre Museum". And so, he remembered. How could he deconcentrate like that? It's because of you that he is here in the first place. He has no time to lose. Lord Diavolo, and definitely, Lucifer can't know his intentions today.

—"Sorry. Actually, today I want to check other type of... product"—

—"Is that so?"— the old woman's question is rhetorical, Satan could tell just by her saucy smile. He decides to ignore her and walks towards the counter, looking at the jewelry in display.

—"Oh, Satan, dear..." — she says. Satan's eyes meet hers with a growing impatience. She continues: —"Is this because of that cute little lamb that came with you last time?"—. Only witches and sorcerers are foolish enough to communicate with demons in such mocking manners. But Satan knows this woman from long ago to understand that she knows better; after all, she's an old friend of theirs.

Her teasing behavior turns back to her initial sweet grandmother's attitude as she tilts her head and reaches something at her right. —"I know what true love looks like, darling..."— she says as she opens a big jewelry box: —"You can look at the other rings, but I chose these ones for my good ally... and I don't mean you, darling. I mean them. After all, humans should stick together"—. Satan chuckles, thanking her.

In the box, vintage antique engagement rings with emerald, jade, and/or green sapphire gems. Each of them embedded in golden rims. Some with such intrinsic details that are hard to notice unless you take the time to look at them with patience.

Satan grins, almost as making fun of himself, because he thought it was impossible for something material to reveal feelings that go so deep. Yet, here he is, with a ring that reminded him of you and your innocent, sweet, and inquisitive nature.

How did he decided to get an engagement ring?

You lay in Satan's arms, your head resting in his chest. He smells so good, and his voice is soothing as he reads you one of his books from the human world.

His selection of books is exciting and amusing: texts from everywhere, from every realm, stories that you've never heard, and antique knowledge, much older than you can imagine. Yet, it doesn't matter what topic the book is about, hearing Satan read to you is always so calming.

And how couldn't it be? Every single night, Satan takes the time to cast a spell in every book he reads to you so that it can levitate in front of him and then, it can turn the pages by itself once read. That way, he can wrap both his arms around you, firmly and yet, gently. While he reads, he rubs your arms to warm you up, then draws small circles in your back or caresses the soft skin of the crook of your neck. Throughout this intimate moment, he lays small pecks in your head from time to time or plays with your fingers and then kisses the palms of your hands as a reminder that he loves you.

He won't admit it, but holding you like this while reading to you is probably the best routine that he has ever had.

As your eyelids struggle not to close, Satan looks down at your sleepy face supported on his chest. He feels like he could melt around you just from this ordinary moment. It's just that the way your eyelashes fall gracefully over and over again as you fight yourself to stay awake, it's so endearing to him; especially when you beg him to continue.

He pets your head and lays a kiss in your forehead. —"Whatever you want, kitten"—. The truth is that he could stay like this forever, just looking at you, while you softly snore in his arms. The warmth of your body feels so comforting that it makes him almost forget that he's the Avatar of Wrath. Wrath, rage, and anger. If anything or anyone makes him feel so grounded, it's you.

—"I want to have this forever, with you", he thinks.

As he goes back to read the story in front of him, the word "marriage" appears, and Satan's eyes illuminate with a marvelous idea. Just, what couldn't express the eternity of his never-ending love better than the physical representation of it that you, a human, know so well?

🩷Asmodeus🩷

What type of ring?

Shopping is usually fun. Then why is it frustrating lately?

It doesn't matter how many stores Asmo visits in the Human world or in the Devildom, even asking Simeon to check the jewelry shops in the Celestial Realm and report back with photos, all of it has proven unfruitful.

Asmodeus has a vision of what the ring is supposed to look like: a beautiful big pink gem surrounded by intrinsic details that resemble roses and/or hearts, inspired in rococo art. It must be romantic and it most be perfect.

It must be. Because you're the only one that can make him see beyond himself. He never thought there'd come the day that another being would blind him from his own reflection, to make him look away. It's you. You are so radiant, so stunning, so wonderful; you're gorgeous and yet, it's not only your looks, it's your lovely heart and your divine charm.

Obviously, proposing to you must be perfect. Starting with the ring. A long lasting reminder of his love and his thoughts about you.

But it's pointless to continue roaming the streets with no results, or making his minion brothers and friends to search for his perfect ring when nothing can meet his expectations.

Asmo walks out of another shop disappointed, and decides that if anything, he could at least surprise you with new sexy lingerie and with a steamy night until he finds a solution, because the perfect ring is the only thing that is missing for his flamboyant proposal. He sighs but then thinks about you in his arms and him in yours, and that calms his sadden heart a little.

Asmodeus walks back home. Bags and boxes stack up in his arms, barely letting him see the sidewalk where he strolls. Suddenly, a pull on his shirt makes him stop abruptly, making the packages rumble and almost falling to the ground, which would have happened if he wasn't so quick to contort so they don't fall.

Asmo looks back angered, but is met by a cute little demon girl.

—"Hi, darling. Oh! You're so cute. Are you ok? What is it?"—

Between stuttering and stuttering, the girl expresses her admiration for him, stating his great abilities to design beauty products. A brilliant idea comes to Asmo's mind, and after the adorable kid leaves and he continues walking his way, Asmo knows what he'll do.

There's nothing like himself to design the perfect dreamed engagement ring. Is there? No other could know what this ring needs to be: a tiny and yet stunning jewelry item, the ring that you deserve, and the ring that he must give you.

How did he decide to get an engagement ring?

For no expert eyes, the Devildom's day cycle is nonexistent, always drowning in the profundity of an endless night. Yet, when the "morning" comes, you've noticed that the sky is slightly clearer, as if a pinch of sun rays want to come through the darkness. And so, you wake up to this dim light coming through the window, in a bed surrounded by pink and red roses.

To your right, a glimmer candle about to die, freeing a sweet scent of flowers. To your left, the demon that you deeply love. He is sound asleep. And you take this rare opportunity to watch him in detail since Asmodeus usually wakes up earlier than you and starts his beauty routine.

Once you asked him why does he always wake up before you so eagerly, just to be met with the cutest response ever:

"Because I don't want you to see me when I look the ugliest!"— he said, pouting.

Although he claims he is the most gorgeous being ever, the truth is that Asmo usually hides his fears behind a curtain of exaggerated "self-love". Despite the fact that his brothers like to describe it as "narcissism", the word "narcissistic" cannot be farer from the truth because Asmo, although sometimes selfish like the rest of his brothers, is adorable and sweet, and specially caring with you. He's not one to manipulate you, gaslight you, or guilt-trip you. Not even once in your long relationship. Never.

And as you observe him, you think that, even when asleep, Asmo is stunning. When you get to see him like this, in his most vulnerable moments, you know he was an angel once, because he's absolutely beautiful: his face is like a marble statue sculpted by the most skilled hands, like a Renaissance piece of art. But he's real, he breathes, his heart pounds, his skin is warm, he loves you, and you love him.

How come you got so lucky? Is he even aware of how much you love him? If it was only by looks, but no. Does he even understand that? Does he even understand that you love him because of who he is: flaws included?

Now your fingers are about to touch his face. But as if he sensed it somehow, Asmo opens his eyes. Even such normal action fills your heart with love. He's surprised. Quickly, Asmodeus has his hands on his face, whining about you looking at him in his most deplorable state: without a bath, without make-up on and before his morning beauty routine. You think his voice breaks for a bit, and yet, you can't help but smile a little.

Suddenly, Asmo's hands are on top of his head, you grab his wrists, and you're on top of him. For such a forceful move, your grin is candid. Asmo's shock and surprise leave him speechless.

—"I think you look more stunning when you just wake up, so let me see your face some more"—

Asmo's eyes widen. He feels like he could cry right now. And so, as he looks at you, a simple human making his heart squeeze and his body melt under your touch, he swears that he has never felt this before: an absolute and eternal adoration for someone else than himself.

—"I gotta show them, I gotta let them know that I love them forever".

Now he's a romantic fool under your touch, even the Avatar of lust, the one who plays with mortals feelings and desires, has succumbed to love. And so, a brilliant idea comes to his mind: a fairy tale wedding, a big dramatic proposal, and a beautiful ring around your pretty finger.

❤️Beelzebub❤️

What type of ring?

It's darker than usual in the forever darkness of the Devildom, and Beel realizes that his practice must have taken longer than expected, calculating by the deep blue hue of the sky converging with the black void of space, that it is almost time for dinner. He takes a quick shower in RAD's dressing rooms, changes to his usual uniform, and heads out to a bench near the school's exit. There, Belphegor sleeps soundly while waiting for his brother.

Beelzebub looks at his twin's adorable face, and remembers the rest of his family, which only brings him a sad guilt since he hasn't told his brothers about the decision that he has made: to propose to you. But between Belphie and him, he's sure they can find the perfect dreamed engagement ring for you.

Beelzebub walks from RAD to home, and in his way, he walks around the commercial area of the town, to check on some jewelry stores for a ring with a fabulous style for you. Although "fabulous" is a vague word, because Beel doesn't really know what he wants to buy you.

Much worse, he isn't so skilled to detect if some of rings have curses, and so, he drags Belphie around to help him out carrying him around town in his back until he needs his help, waking him up when necessary.

—"It's impossible. I can't find the perfect ring".

Belphie looks at Beel with compassion and decides to help him a little:

—"Aside from food analogies, what is they to you?"

Beel stops for a moment to scratch the back of his head, repeating his brother's question, every word less audible until it's just a dim whisper.

—"They are like a sun".

For Beel, you are full of happiness, optimism and warmth. You have brought tranquility and, at the same time, fun. Belphegor smiles, knowing he can't ever doubt Beel's big heart, and he responds: —"I think you already have your answer".

Beelzebub runs back to the last jewelry shop and buys you an eye-catching ring with a bright red ruby in a circular shape, in a gold rim; around the gem, a design of a sun. Beel smiles truly relief. Then he wonders if, when preparing the proposal, he should include adding the ring to your dessert.

How did he decided to get an engagement ring?

The kitchen is filled by sounds of clanking pans and silverware. On your right: a huge bowl of soup slowly boiling while small pieces of carrot levitate above and from time to time, let themselves fall into the liquid; on your left: the second stove is cooking huge steaks, emanating a delicious smell and equally appealing frying sounds. Behind you, eggs cracking open and getting mixed with milk and sugar to create a sweet cream. You're cooking for an army, and you wouldn't be able to do so if you didn't use your magic.

Like dance steps, you repeat: ,"one, two, three and one, two, three..."— enough to make you focus on your task: to cook several meals at the same time, each with gigantic portions on end: a huge surprise dinner for you boyfriend, Beel.

Curious sets of eyes spy on you from the kitchen threshold.

—"Mammon, Asmo, Belphie... I know you are there"— you admit.

Mammon makes a complaining sound and crosses his arms looking at you with an angry, yet adorable, face expression. Contrary to that, Asmo and Belphie smile brightly and ask what Mammon couldn't without overthinking:

—"What are you doing?"

—"Are you cooking for Beel?"

You nod and let a gentle grin scape your lips. The boys look at each other and sigh. Although they wanted to let you know that they could be of use, they realized that this is one of those moments when it's much more meaningful if you do it by yourself.

Especially since, lately, Beel has been down, eating half his usual, leaving untouched snacks and complaining about lost desserts that he has already eaten. And you all know what's up: the Devildom finals are coming up, and Beel seems to be nervous and anxious. A rare state for Beel. However, the pressure to win the whole realm's tournament mixed with the stress that his team-mates share, make him susceptible to the pre-game anxiety.

Right now, Beel is back in the school grounds, concentrated with his teammates before the great finale, which has given you enough time to cook.

Even if it's exaggerated amounts of food, you're happy to do so because, over time, it has turn into one of your favorites hobbies; especially when you share it with your boyfriend; even if he eats the ingredients and leaves you half way into the cooking process. To you, far from making you loose your patience, it's adorably funny.

But right now, it's only you in the kitchen and that's the way you intend it to be, because you're preparing a romantic dinner for Beelzebub for after the finals, regardless of the result: Fine demonus, gigadeath home-made burgers, devil zebra steak, hellfire mushroom-filled soup, Quetzalcoatl brain mousse with bloodberry sauce, and, of course, two black cloud cakes: one with a congratulation message in case he wins, and another one in case he doesn't. Then you prepare a dinner table for two in an intimate place of the house, lighted up with candles, decorate it with red roses and table set with fine silverware. Not that he will notice all the details, but he will definitely love the effort.

You sigh happily, after all, you've been pouring your heart and soul into this, that you forget the time. So when a buzz brings you back to reality, is then only when you realize that you have tons of messages from the brothers. Much worse, you realize that the game is about to start.

You rush out of the HoL, making sure you forget nothing and then, you run like your life depends on it. You help yourself with some magic, but it's mainly a heavy job on your legs. And, although getting there prove to be a difficult task, you were able to arrive some minutes after the game have started. Gasping, trying to recover your breath, sweating like crazy, you find your sit next to the brothers, letting yourself feel the adrenaline rush go down; but you don't let your exhaustion take over. So with your last energies, you make sure to support Beel in his last game of the season.

After a couple of hours and the double whistle of the referee, Beel and his teammates celebrate a glorious victory. You sigh happily and finally let yourself sit down to rest. It's only then that the tiredness takes over your body, your eyelids struggling to keep you wide awake... On your way home, you barely register that you're being carried in someone's back, a broad and strong back with a tranquil scent.

"Beel..."— you think, knowing that fresh soap smell.

Beel opens the door to the house and leaves you on your bed; you don't even realize that you are home already, profoundly asleep. Beel sigh with a gentle smile, as he looks at your gorgeous face.

But it's interrupted by a wonderful smell of food. Like a magnet, drawn to its opposite pole, Beel leaves you in your room to find the source until reaching the planetarium. In it, a small two seats table with a white tablecloth, two tall demonus glasses and the house's fancy silverware that Lucifer doesn't let anyone touch. His favorite dishes piled up in silver metal bowls.

Suddenly, Beel feels overwhelmed by a peaceful happiness, just as if he was back in the Celestial Realm.

—They did all this... for me!— he says, almost inaudible. Then, he sits down, enjoying a plate of food after another; but, unlike other moments when he only engulfed the food, this time he takes the time to enjoy it.

Beel tears a little, feeling loved, validated, accepted just as he is, so he smiles brightly: —They really love me— he whispers to himself again.

—Yeah, I love you Beel— you answer, taking your boyfriend by surprise. You scratch your head and try to comb your hair in place with your fingers,—I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about my surprise... and I'm sorry I'm so unpresentable right now. This was supposed to be a romantic surprise dinner—.

Beel smiles happily, like a puppy looking at his most beloved beings —You look just perfect—.

Beel feels his heart so full he might explode, finally satisfied of his never-ending food demand; but this time it isn't because of food. Is you. Only you can make him feel so happy and complete. So Beel looks at you at the other side of the table, and sighs happily —"I think I'll marry them", he thinks. A sweet resolve that he must keep to himself, for now.

💜Belphegor💜

What type of ring?

Belphegor sits up. He stretches his arms, and with it, his back cracks a little, letting the stiffness of a well-deserved one hundred and twenty-three hours nap scape his body. Beel is right next to his bed, looking at him with a worried look, repeating about how there's no time left if he wants to go on with his plan.

But Belphie barely registers what his brother says, still too numb from the long sleep that has taken almost all of his week. He yawns, blinks a couple of times and scratches his eyes, trying to recover himself and get his usual personality back.

Beel continues rambling about how sorry he is from letting him sleep for so long, but that he looked so peaceful and cute that he couldn't bring himself to interrupt his twin's sweet dreams.

"Sweet dreams? Sweet? Dream?"

Those words remind him of something important: —"Beel! What day is it today?".

Beelzebub sighs and with a sad expression tells him the truth for the nth time.

Belphegor jumps from the bed. An unusual action from the Avatar of Sloth who would rather drag his feet through the HoL hallways than walk. He takes Beel's hand in his and runs out of the room to the attic. There, he frantically searches for something important in the boxes. Since Lucifer gave Belphie access to the attic, he has come to the realization that some of the stuff there are his.

He throws some boxes to Beel and urges him to look for a small box in a deep purple color. Beel does as his brothers say. And for hours that feel more like decades, Belphegor finally finds the small box. Beel smiles in relief, not only because they finally found what they were looking for, but because, finally, he can eat.

Belphie thanks his brother as Beel leaves the room. Then, with a soft smile, he opens the tiny box: inside, a ring with a purple gem in silver rim with small curves and details that look like moons and stars.

Belphie caresses the cold metal, and his face expression turns into a longing one, yet, he doesn't drop his sweet smile: —"I guess this thing belongs to them anyway" — he thinks, —"because this was Lilith's".

How did he decided to get an engagement ring?

Belphegor sleeps hugging one of his large pillows. He looks so peaceful, surrounded by soft fabrics and cotton blankets. Not laying down next to him is hard to resist, specially when you know that he smells so good.

Gently and quietly, you get on the attic's improvised bed and curl up against his back feeling the warmth of his body. You wish he'd wake up for a second, turn around and hug you instead of his big pillow; but even sharing the bed like this is fine.

Actually, it's more than fine. It's great.

His scent, his calm breathing, his relaxed nature. Yes, all of it, it's enough to make you happy and you can't help but whisper to your sleeping boyfriend a sincere "I love you", while you start to snooze yourself.

Even if Belphegor is slim, his back looks wide to you, and that's inviting somehow, so you run your hands gently on his shoulders and arms, trying not to wake him up but feeling the soft fabric of his favorite sweater and his defined muscles underneath it.

You nuzzle your face between his scapulae, taking in his addictive aroma. "I really, really love you"— you repeat, this time your whispers are less audible, as you start to find your eyes heavy, and your face expression turns lighter and relaxed.

"I want to spend my life sleeping next to you Belphie"— you think one last time before giving in to Belphegor's power.

A rumble under the sheets brings you back from the trance, though, and a well-known arm traps you: "When you say things like that, I can't sleep peacefully. Am I so alluring to you that you are willing to take advantage of me like that?"—. Though he jokes like the cocky brat that he is, you know his teasing is full of desire because you notice his growing heat: he has a mischievous grin while he gazes down on you bitting his lower lip, showing a familiar expectancy. Your hands lay on his chest, and you can also feel that his breathing becomes a little more rapid, and his heart's pounding faster with excitement. You know what he's thinking.

He lays a longing kiss in the corner of your lips, and when he separates his from you, his and your gasps reveal a burning urge to and for the other, —"I hate to admit how much you agitate me"—, he confesses between pecks —"I'm the Avatar of Sloth after all"—. You gasp silently, feeling Belphie drop multiple kisses all over your face and neck.

In his thousands of years, Belphegor has never given in to his lustful temptations so strongly. But you have changed that.

—"I could kiss you like this forever. I want to have you sleeping by my side for eternity".

Sharing these intimate moments in your not-so-secret space, chanting eternal love to one another, and sharing sloppy kisses makes Belphie realize how he can't live without you anymore. How was life before you again?, when you weren't melting in his arms?, when he wasn't thinking about you in-between dreams and real life?

As he feels your growing desire in your gasps against his mouth, Belphie understands something: although he was not one to believe that a contract like marriage could mean more than that, as he snakes his arms around you, gently topping you, and your warm hands caress his skin, slowly undressing him, he thinks he can finally understand why it means so much to so many people, specially humans: because you are so incredibly precious and fragile, and even if it's decades ahead, he will loose you one day. How can he show you the depth of his love while he has you by his side? He breaks the kissing to ask:

—"Would you like me to propose to you?"—

As always, there's no secrets between you two. He's always ready to say exactly how he feels and what he thinks, and drop it just as it is. Meanwhile, you are surprised, trying to process the question. But Belphegor kisses your lips passionately one more time, not giving you any more time to think.

Against your semi opened mouth, eyes closed, feelings the lust take over both of you, he finally responds: —"By the way, I love you too".

⏮️ Go to Part 1 (Lucifer x gn!reader / Mammon x gn!reader / Leviathan x gn!reader)

📌 Masterlist

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 15 hours

Text

saying goodbye

(cw: age gap 25/41; mndi, slight nsfw; angst, brief discussion of loss and fear of death)

the part before: comforting him

I wanted to do something nice for König before he goes on his next mission, before he has to leave. Which is quite the challenge to make it a surprise from him when you’re living together. Well, staying together, but it doesn’t change the fact that we spend most of our time with each other.

Another reason, why this doesn't feel like dating anymore. It doesn't feel like just being exclusive. It doesn't feel like a living arrangement because he broke my bed. Also, he seems to be doing better again, after the little downward spiral that plagued him at the end of last week. At the same time… I can't shake the feeling that he's a bit more closed off than he was before.

I sigh. He’ll leave in only two days and we agreed that I would go home tomorrow because, well… it can’t be postponed any longer.

I already knew he has to sort out some stuff today before being deployed, driving into the city, getting a medical check-up and also arranging the details for my new bed to finally be delivered. But this gives me the chance to pack up most of my stuff and prepare what I wanted to surprise him with while he is away for a few hours.

I went grocery shopping after work, got everything that the recipe called for, and started as soon I was back at his place. I cut so many onions for this, I’m all cried out, but I still can’t help the little lump sitting in the back of my throat, closing it up, which has nothing to do with the cut vegetables

He comes back earlier than I anticipated, mumbling something about an incompetent doctor and how he doesn’t like to have his blood drawn. But I shoo him out of his own kitchen with a few comforting words, tell him to sit in the living room and read something. And not disturb me.

“Aye-aye, Ma’am.”, he says, an amused smirk on his face as he jokingly salutes. I roll my eyes and laugh a little, patting his butt, to make him hurry along.

I still need to prepare the sidedish and let the stew cook for a little longer to make sure the meat is tender and the sauce is thick enough. At least that’s what the recipe said. And I need to make sure I do everything right.

When it’s finally done, the kitchen looks like somebody threw around food, although I did my best to clean up as I go.

I fill one of the soup dishes with the stew, putting the Nockerl in there as well, the dough already soaking up some of the sauce. I compare the dish in front of me with the picture from the recipe and I’m actually content with how it came out.

I set the plate down on the island where the seats are and call for König while I get myself a smaller portion. I hear his steps before his huge stature appears in the doorframe.

“Uh, dinner is ready.”, I say wryly smiling at him, with my plate in my hands. I set it down next to his.

“I can see that and I already smelled the cooking in the living room, it smells deli-“ The words gets stuck in his throat as he comes closer, stopping in front of the plate. He drops onto the seat, the furniture aching under his weight. The smile he was still wearing when he came into the kitchen has dissipated, his mouth hanging open, when he looks up from his plate, his eyes finding mine. He looks almost in shock.

I sit down next to him, suddenly very unsure if this whole ordeal even was a good idea.

“You cooked Gulasch?”, he asks, his voice wavering.

I nod. “Yes, I remember how you said that you liked it, so uh, I tried to make it.”

“But you’re vegetarian.”, he adds.

“Yes, but you aren’t. And the original recipe calls for beef.”, I explain, putting the doughy pillows that the Austrians call Nockerl onto my fork, scooping up some of the sauce. I just want to try a bit of, tasting a part of his origins.

He’s still staring as I put the fork into my mouth, and well, he didn’t promise too much when he was talking about his favourite food because that’s really delicious. Though I’m unsure about how authentic it is.

His gaze moves from me to the plate in front of him, finally picking up the fork, and he digs in, taking the biggest bite. I wait to see what his reaction would be like. He shovels two, three forkfuls into his mouth, chewing, tasting. And then suddenly just stops. Goes completely still. And I don’t know what’s going on as his head drops forward, his hair hanging in front of his face.

A small silent sob shakes his chest and a stray tear falls from his face into the stew. My heart drops to my feet. Fuck.

“We don’t need to eat it, if it’s no good.”, I say lightly, trying not to let it affect me. When I go to grab his plate, his head whips in my direction, and I finally get a good look at his face.

“What, no?! I-“ He takes a deep breath, his hand wiping over his eyes quickly, like the tear was never there. “This is the nicest thing somebody has done for me in a long time.”, he finally says. “And it reminds me of my Oma.” A deep sigh shakes his tall frame. “So, thank you, okay? It’s delicious.” He takes my hands, softly pulling them towards him, pressing a kiss on each palm.

The sadness in his eyes isn’t completely gone when I look into them, and I didn’t anticipate that this simple gesture of cooking him his favourite meal would have him in shambles like that. But the smile that turns up the corners of his mouth is a warm one, thankful and happy.

“You’re welcome.”, I simply tell him. “I’m glad you like it.” I press my lips to his, reassuring the big giant that it was okay, without saying it out loud.

When I pull back, he lingers, his hand shooting up to the back of my head, stealing another kiss. Long, deep and oh so soft. Another “thank you”, without saying it out loud.

“What was your Oma like?”, I ask him, taking a forkful of my sauced-up Nockerl. He talked about her before, but it might keep me from tearing up as well.

The smile on his face gets wider and he starts to tell stories about her. Leaving the other people in his family out of it, for the most part.

How she always asked him to get the stuff from the upper shelves because he was already taller than her at age 12. How he sat in the kitchen doing his homework while she cooked. How she stopped pestering him about going to church on Sunday eventually, but still almost smacked him in his head when he turned the cross in the living room upside down as a joke. How she cried when he joined the military because that was the last thing she wished for him. How she still let him go and how he had to promise her to come back – or else. How he helped her in the garden every time he came home and kept doing that well into his 30s. And how he nearly missed her funeral because he almost couldn’t get permission to leave for a few days.

König takes seconds and even thirds, eating almost all of the Gulasch I cooked. I’m already done sitting over my empty plate, listening to him talk, getting us something to drink. When he is done as well, he grabs the plates to wash up, not letting me help in any way, because “Oh no, you already cooked and everything”. He tells me to pick out a movie I’d like to watch, the glint in his eyes telling me that it’s probably going to get cut short again, so I put on Pulp Fiction, a movie we both have watched countless times before.

He laughs as he comes into the living room with a beer in his hand and sees my choice on the flatscreen, taking a seat at the couch and I hop onto his lap when his ass barely touched the cushions. We’re entangled, as close as you can be. And it doesn’t take long for his hands to wander. Squeeze, caress, stroke over my body. Teasing me with soft kisses against my neck until a heavy sigh leaves my lips. He takes that as an invitation to finally take me to the bedroom where he lies me down on the mattress to eat me out, while he kneels on the floor. Messy, sloppy licks and nibbles, his fingers methodically filling me until I cum for him, my thighs pressing together around his head.

He crawls over me, pushing into me with his dick, after teasing my clit some more with his tip, the piercing deliciously pressing into the sensitive nub.

Slow and sweet doesn’t mean less intense, the soft stretch with every sensual roll of his hips sending sensations over my body, making me pant and throw my head back with pleasure.

His hand on my chin compelling me look at him while he is fucking me like this… until it doesn’t feel like just fucking anymore. When I come again, this time around his dick, it feels like a soft wave washing over me, his name on my lips, and he doesn’t stop pushing into me, prolonging my orgasm and chasing his own until he spills inside me.

He presses kisses to my cheek, pulling me into him, and we snuggle up against each other to fall asleep. My back is against his front, the heat of his body warming me, that I don’t even need a blanket. Feeling the comfort of his embrace a little more clearly than usual.

And the realisation hits me that he is going to leave. And I’m gonna go back home, to my apartment. No more König when I come home from work. No shared meals in the kitchen, no sitting in his lap on the couch. No laughing fits in the middle of the night when one of us says something so stupid that the other can’t comprehend. No filthy sex and tender kisses. No calling him “old man” to get a rise out of him. No dirty punishment for my bratty ass. No feeling him inside me, his brows turned up, his eyes rolling back in ecstatic expression as he comes. None of it, at least for some time.

I push those thoughts away, pulling his arms tighter around me as if I could keep him like this. I close my eyes, ignoring the one stray tear that rolls down my cheek, and drift off into sleep.

And with this the day I have been dreading the whole week is finally here. The day when I return to my own apartment after staying with him for weeks. I even took a day off of work for this.

I’m trying not to let it show too much, because it’s a bit stupid. This living arrangement always was meant to be temporary and I always knew he was on leave, needing to go back to his work at some point sooner or later. But now that it’s here… I kinda don’t want it to happen at all.

The coffee tastes a little bitter as I sip it, even though he added just as much milk as usual, with the typical joking disgust while diluting the tasty elixir, that always makes me chuckle and shake my head.

The sunlight streaming through the big windows in the living room blinds me as it reflects off the shiny couch upholstery when I go to collect Mimi from her spot, putting her in the cat carrier.

The book I finished reading on the weekend gets caught when I push it into its place on the shelf, some of the pages creasing. I curse, showing König and apologizing. He takes the book from my grasp, straightening out the crinkles, and puts it back. “Don’t worry, Liebes, it’s just a book.”, he says, his arm coming around me as he pulls me against his warm body and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

I get the rest of my stuff, seeing that one of my yarn balls has tangled into a net of knots, and I curse again. Of course, it did. I put my crochet bag into one of the boxes and carry it outside.

With a sigh I look back over my shoulder one last time and close the door behind me, placing my stuff in the trunk and climbing into the driver’s seat of my own car. Starting it and driving after him, and it’s weird not to sit right next to him in his car.

It’s weird being home again. Letting Mimi out of her carrier, the little kitty running around, brushing against his legs. And he picks her up, carrying her around, just like they always do. The small creature is purring against his chest as he shimmies her around, humming some tune I can't place.

It’s weird standing here in my apartment with him, waiting for the bed to be delivered. I can feel my bubbly yapping coming back, not being able to shut up, and König is listening like he always does. Short, one-worded answers while his hand is petting Mimi, scratching between her ears and under her chin.

The doorbell ringing tears us from our conversation. The delivery guys are handing the packages over, asking if they should help bring them in, but König declines, giving them a tip and sending them their way.

I’m not as easily deterred from trying to help with the packages, although König is carrying most of them, barely breaking a sweat, while I struggle with the smallest one.

Sitting on the bedroom floor, his tall figure still reaching up to my hips before I get down next to him. He’s glancing at the instructions, squeezing his eyes together, but I can tell he’s having a hard time seeing the illustrations of the steps correctly.

And of course he is too stubborn to ask for help. I grin to myself and shake my head. “Forgot your glasses?”, I ask him, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.”, he says wryly, and I extend my hand, suggesting silently he’ll hand over the instructions and he does, with a sigh and a little smile.

While I’m still studying the instructions, he’s laying out the pieces and already putting the first parts together. Of course, he is choosing the hands-on approach, even with stuff like that, figuring it out as he moves along, and I chime in with a few comments here and there, guiding the construction.

His long hair is getting in the way and I lend him a hair tie, and I don’t think I’ll ever manage to get over how meticulous he puts his hair in a ponytail. I mean, he probably has done that same move for years, his hands collecting all the stray strands, the band snapping around them with two quick motions and then it just sits perfectly at the back of his head.

We spent so much time together and I realise that I’ve never seen him do that. The whole time he was always wearing his hair down, some strands hanging in front of his face. Sometimes he put them into a lose bun when he was working out, but never like this.

“What?”, he asks me, a hint of uncertainty on his face.

I shake my head. “Nothing, your hair looks good like that.”, I say, clearing my voice when it dares to break off, but I save it with a smile which gets mirrored by his, and I can’t help but put a kiss onto it while a pang of something spreads in my chest. I feel like I know him so well, and yet I keep learning parts of him I’ve never seen before.

“Come on, Hexe.”, he says when I linger, prolonging the kiss, caught in my thoughts, his hand patting my hip which makes me giggle a bit, but I can't shake the feeling that's settling in my stomach. Fuck, he's gonna leave.

Pretty quickly we construct the bed, it’s easy enough, especially when you’re following the instructions – a sentiment I say out loud after he managed to stick two pieces together who fit, but actually belong like that. He just grins and pulls them apart easily, his muscles flexing for just a moment.

“Show-off.”, I say, sticking my tongue out at him.

Finally, the frame is done, the slats already fitted into it and last but not least, we hoist the mattress onto them.

“You didn’t need to buy me a new one, you know.”

He shoots me a look. A knowing one.

“Really, it was fine. The old one would have sufficed.”

“I have slept on that mattress. You needed a new one.”

“Oh, that's just your old bones.”, I quip, and I know how ridiculous I must sound telling that to a soldier who can probably sleep anytime anywhere.

He pinches my nose. “You're not getting younger yourself, Missy.”, he answers. "Your back will be thankful."

“Yeah, yeah.”, I say grinning and bump my hip against his, rather hitting the burly thigh, before getting some bedsheets.

The fresh sheets match the nice dark wood of the bedframe, the bed now looking so much nicer than the rest of my furniture pieces.

“Thanks. For the new bed.”, I tell him, smiling up at him, getting on my tiptoes.

“No need to thank me, Liebes.”, he answers, leaning down and meeting me halfway for a kiss. “It was my fault you needed a new one in the first place.”, a wry grin accompanying his words.

“Well, this looks much sturdier like the one I had before.” I tap the wooden frame, a hollow knock resounding.

“Well, I needed to make sure that it wouldn’t break that easily again.”, he says, smiling down at me, a twinkle in his eyes. A reminder of how we broke it in the first place.

“Care to test that theory?”, I ask him cheekily, although I’m not really in the mood right now. My heart is way too heavy.

Before I can say anything else, he grabs me by the waist and lifts me up on the bed, the mattress dipping down under my weight. His hands are steadying me when I start to jump up and down, bouncing on it. Damn, it’s really nice. And I don't dare to ask how much he spent on it.

“Sturdy enough, you think?”, he asks me.

I nod. “You wanna come up here too?”, I tease him.

He shakes his head, just grinning, following my movements up and down with his eyes.

“Oh come on!”, I exclaim, not ready to stop this sillyness.

He pulls up his eyebrows. “I don’t think that would be wise, we don’t need to push it.”, he grins, when all of a sudden, there’s a faint cracking sound, and I stop, almost toppling over trying to hold my balance on the wobbling mattress.

“Point and case.”, he remarks as his arms coming around my waist as he lifts me off the bed.

“Okay, okay…”

I hold onto him like a little spider monkey, my legs closing around him, my cheek pressing against his shoulder as I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. Like I could keep him here like that. Or he’ll just take me with him when I stick to him like a limpet. Maybe I’m small enough to fit into his pocket.

My fingers get caught in his hair as I try to run them through it like I always do, and he pulls the hair tie from them, putting it away, letting me play with the long strands, as he goes to sit down.

The couch in my apartment is way smaller than his, his frame fills the cushions easily, so I have nowhere else to sit but his lap. Like I would have sat anywhere else. Trying to be as close to him as possible.

We’re not saying anything, just sitting here. My head rests against his shoulder, his scent all around me. I can hear his heart beat, feel it beneath my fingertips resting on his chest. Steady and strong, but a little too fast.

His hands are gently caressing my thighs and back, and even though I feel the sadness seep into me, the soft touches ground me.

We sit in silence for what seems eternity while at the same time lasting barely more than the blink of an eye. And I wish we could remain in this moment, frozen in time, but well.

He sighs softly, the deep sound pulling me from my thoughts, and I lift my head, to look at him.

“We need to say goodbye.” He slumps back, his shoulders hitting the backrest. “I wish I didn’t need to go.”, he exhales. Saying what I was thinking.

"Don't worry, I'll still be here when you're on leave again.", I tell him, softly kissing his cheek. He turns to me, the expression on his face serious and... a bit sad.

"But you shouldn't be.", he says, calm and steady.

"But-", I want to protest.

He shakes his head. "No, you should be with somebody your age, someone who can give you stability." He sighs. "Someone who can guarantee you that they'll come back to you. Every time they leave."

And the realisation hits me. He isn't saying goodbye for now. He's saying goodbye for good.

“I see.”, is all I manage because my feelings come crashing down over me with a vicious fervor. I thought I was going to have to deal with him leaving for weeks or months. With him being gone for a while. Not with a breakup.

“I’m sorry.”, he apologizes and starts to explain. “I never meant for this to go this far or… this deep.” The admission in his words makes my stomach flip upside down. I actually feel a little nauseous as my hands grip my own thighs, trying to hold onto something. “And I should’ve maybe said something earlier.” He swallows hard.

“The truth is that I had the best time this leave, and that was solely because of you.” He finally looks at me again, the raw emotions in his eyes almost scaring me. But the resolve in them is clear as well. “I couldn’t get myself to break it off. But I can’t make you wait for me either. Because I can’t even promise you that I will return.” His voice is shaking now and seeing him like this makes my lower lip tremble as I just try to breathe.

“And I can’t do that to you. The thought of you waiting for me at home and only a casket coming back… has been killing me inside these past few days.” The words come out choked and I can’t look at him anymore, my head snapping to the side as that image fills my mind. “Fuck, I’m really sorry, okay?”

We sit here like this for a moment longer. His hands stopped caressing my thighs and back, and I want to scream. The cold feeling of loss grips my heart, a viciously clawed hand leaving gaping wounds as it was making its way up my chest. He’s still sitting underneath me, but I feel like he’s already gone.

“I get it.”, I finally say, my voice trembling and hoarse. Still not able to look at him because I wouldn’t have been able to hold back my tears.

“I knew you would.”, he says, the words breaking up as he speaks. And I think back to when he told me that he couldn’t have a partner or family because his job won’t allow it. And I finally get why he thinks like that. At least I guess so. The big house devoid of any life but him, his own little safe haven, and I only now understand how temporary this whole arrangement really had been. I just didn’t see it. Maybe because I didn’t want to.

While I still try to process everything, he lifts me up and sets me down on the cushions of the couch. Like he did countless times the last few weeks. In his living room. And a sob tears from my chest because the gesture reminds me of so many tender and filthy moments at the same time. I hug my knees, pulling them close to me, already missing the warmth of his body. But that’s the way it is now, I guess.

He crouches down, coming face to face with me, and it just hurts to look at him. The bandshirt he bought for the concert we went to together. The tattoos on his knuckles, straining from the tension in his balled-up fists. The long dark hair, pushed to the side, falling back down his shoulder. I don’t need to touch it, to know how soft it feels. The mouth that smiled at me so often. The lips I have kissed countless times and that have kissed every inch of my body. The furrowed brows. The slack expression on his face concealing the laughlines. And for the first time since I’ve known him looking into his eyes doesn’t give me comfort.

He carefully takes my chin, the pads of his fingertips rough against the skin, softly digging into my jaw, like he likes – liked to do. He leans forward pressing a kiss to my lips which almost makes the tears drop from my eyes. A kiss to say goodbye, gentle and bittersweet.

"Stay safe, okay?", he whispers, his eyes looking intently into mine, but I can only nod. My throat is closed up because I know he won't be safe. Not saying anything because I don't want to cry in front of him. Because that will only make it harder, on both of us.

He straightens back up and leaves. The door falls shut behind him.

And I finally let the waterworks flow, sobs shaking my chest as I throw myself into the couch where he sat just a few moments ago.

Mimi’s meow pulls me from my crying fit when she jumps up onto the couch, her little head bumping into me, and I pull her against my chest, the tears rolling down my cheeks. And the odd thought crosses my mind if the crinkles in the book on his shelf are the only remainders of me in his house. While I have this new bed.

How did we get here? Masterlist

a/n: i have been working on this chapter for months and i knew what was coming and now that it's finished, i can't help but still feel the sadness hitting me 🥲 - and no, this is not the last chapter (in case you were fearing that rn) take this recipe for authentic austrian beef gulasch as a token of my apology

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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blueicequeen19 · 1 year

Text

DHP Pt. 9

Warnings: angst, fighting, blackmail, masturbation, unprotected sex

Series ML

I’m dripping sweat by the time we’re done moving everything into the apartment. Half the furniture is from the Chateau so Sarah has an excuse to redecorate. John B can never tell her no. We all refused to let Y/N lift a finger so she went across the street to grocery shop with what little money I had until I got paid again. She also mentioned getting a job although I didn’t want her to work but that was an argument for another time.

“Are you going to name him after me?” John B asks for the tenth time, smirking as he hands me a beer.

“Or me. There’s plenty of John’s, not enough Pope’s.” Pope chimes in, particularly serious. I chuckle, looking over to see Sarah and Kie in a heated debate. Their words were hushed but knowing Sarah, she was probably putting Kie in her place. She had no right to start her shit last night. I didn’t expect her to help today but she did, remaining silent and keeping her head down. She almost seemed defeated.

“So have you told Y/N about everything that happened last summer?” John B asks.

“No. What’s there to tell?” I shrug.

“The gold. Kiara. Rafe.” Pope adds.

“There’s nothing to tell. I started a business that’s still not up and running and paid off a shit ton of debt. I’m not bringing in any money yet.”

“Yet. Key word.” John B says, his eyes darting to Sarah and Kie constantly.

“This will all be temporary. You know I’d let you guys live at the Chateau but Sarah is hounding me for a baby. Especially now that you have one coming. Her baby fever is through the roof. My dick is going to fall off.”

“I didn’t need to know that.” Pope grimaces.

“I know but I need to step up and be a man. I have to do this. I have a one year lease then I’ll find a house out in the marsh again. I’m selling my dads house so I’m not living there. That’ll be a little dough until the charter is up and running. I’d rather Y/N not worry about working but with everything that’s happened, she probably needs something to keep her busy before the baby comes.”

“Yea, she lost everything. Like her life was completely uprooted.” John B and I both shoot Pope a glare and he holds his hands up in defense. “Sorry! That came out wrong.”

“No, it’s true.”

“Shits tough. Sarah went through it. Y/N just has to find herself again. She’ll have you to support her.” John B nods.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to let her back in. It took a lot for me to open up to her the first time.”

“Oh yea? Then what did I hear last night? We got thin walls man.”

“Listen, pregnancy hormones are apparently no joke. She woke me up and I helped her out. That was it.”

“Maybe you should work on the relationship without being physical. Withhold sex until you both know what you want.” Pope says, earning another glare from us.

“Do you want me to die? Have you not heard how crazy pregnant women can be?”

“Yea I’m with JJ. Don’t risk your life, man.”

Sarah and Kie’s hushed voices grow louder, earning our attention from across the room. I lick eyes with Kie and she shakes her head, waving off Sarah and stomping out the front door. Sarah sighs before joining us, curling up against John B’s side. It made me miss Y/N and her softness.

“What was that about?” I ask, downing the rest of my beer.

“She doesn’t trust Y/N and she thinks you’re being stupid. She’s just mad and jealous. I think you need to just set the record straight with her.” Sarah opens her own beer and takes a long gulp. Kie was a problem I’d ignored for a long time. How clear can you make it to someone that you’re not interested without being shitty?

Thank god I wasn’t having a girl. These women were driving me fucking nuts.

I hated how no matter what’s happened, I still ached for her. She left me breathless and crazy. My heart skipped beats and shit. I’d never felt anything like this before but she was right. It’d been there since the beginning.

“Guys!” Kie burst back in through the front door, her curly hair whipped around her face like she’d been running and her chest heaving. “Rafe has Y/N cornered at the grocery store across the street.”

Those words send me into a blind rage as I jump to my feet and tuck the peacekeeper into the waist band of my shorts, concealing it with my shirt despite my friends pleading for me to stop as I shove my way out the door.

The closer I get to the store, the angrier I get. My vision is practically red when I see that he’s not only standing too close but he’s wearing a proud, cocky smile. Almost like he’s.. flirting. Y/N wasn’t tense or appearing to be in any distress. If anything they looked to be having a pleasant conversation. It’s when her eyes lock on my fast approach that her face falls, her eyes widening.

“J..”

I fist the back of Rafe’s pollo, all but throwing him away from her.

“Jesus, dude. We were just talking.” Rafe chuckles, holding up his hands as he smiles.

“JJ, stop.” Y/N snaps, grabbing my elbow but all I can think about is the shit Rafe has put my friends through. What he’s put me through. Now he’s talking to Y/N. Flirting with her.

“Stay away from her.” I growl, taking a step towards him just as the Pogues catch up.

“Okay, okay, enough. Let’s go.” John B says, stepping between the two of us and pushing back on my chest.

“How’s the Kook life treating you guys? Blow through all that money yet?” Rafe turns to Sarah, who stiffens under her brothers gaze. “Did you enjoy getting our father killed?” His gaze moves to Pope, “How’s that family legacy? I think I might still have a few pieces of that cross left.”

I can’t stop myself from pulling the gun and shoving John B away, pressing the barrel against Rafe’s chest. He only smiles, like the untouchable asshole he thinks he is. I hear the girls gasp but everything fades, my hatred for Rafe and his family masking everything else.

“What the fuck do you want?” I bite out.

“Y/N owes me a favor. I’m here to collect.” Rafe keeps his cocky grin as his eyes move to Y/N at my side, trying to talk me down. I can’t hear her.

“She doesn’t owe you shit.” I growl, pressing the gun harder to Rafe’s chest.

“Ask her. Just ask her.” Rafe takes a step back, casting a glance to Pope and Sarah before looking back at Y/N.

“JJ, stop. You’ll go to jail!” Y/N grabs my face, making me look at her pleading eyes. The gun is taken from my hand as Rafe gets back in his car and peels away. “What was that about?” Y/N demands, searching my face like I’ve been injured.

“What favor do you owe him? What did he want?”

“You’re being crazy right now! Chill! We were just talking!”

“Rafe Cameron doesn’t just talk to people unless he’s looking to gain something. So what favor did he fucking want?” Her face hardens as she takes a step back, too stubborn to back down from me. I was being an asshole but I couldn’t help it. This was too close to home.

“You’re not going to talk to me like that. You’re being shitty with me for no reason.”

“Guys, stop. This is what he wants. He wants us to fight.” Sarah says, gently pulling Y/N back so we’re no longer in each others space.

“She doesn’t know how much of a psychopath Rafe is. She shouldn’t trust him!” I shout, letting John B lead me away as Sarah tries to plead with her.

“Then tell me why! You never fucking tell me why! You have all these barriers you put up and your reasons for doing things but I’m not going to just blindly follow you without reason. I need to be in on it too. What did he do?”

“Both of you stop.” Kie says, catching a murderous look from Y/N.

“No, you stop. Mind your own fucking business.” Y/N shouts at Kie. God, this was only getting worse.

“He is my business, bitch! I’ve known him a lot longer than you! It’s not our fault you don’t know the man who knocked you up. You better adapt real quick to the way we do things because it’s his baby too.” I find myself diving between the girls as Y/N lunges for her. Kie’s eyes soften as she looks up at me but it’s not her I’m protecting.

“Get over yourself, Kiara. It’s never going to happen between us. It’s over. It’s been over. Whatever torch you’re carrying for me, you need to let it fucking go. Don’t speak about my child on my behalf.” I snap, a pang of guilt slicing through me when her face falls. She was my best friend but I couldn’t do this anymore. Tears fill her eyes before she turns away, stomping off to where she’s parked down the road.

“Really, dude? How about you let her down gently?” Pope scoffs, going after her.

“You could’ve handled that better.” John B adds, taking Sarah’s hand and leading her to the Twinkie. Y/N shoves past me, heading back inside the apartment building without a second glance in my direction. I’d be glad when today is fucking over.

It’s late as I walk by the bathroom door, a stifled moan stopping me in my tracks. My ears perk up as I listen in. It would be totally like her to try and pleasure herself knowing I’ve offered to help. I can’t pull myself away as her soft little whimpers grow closer and closer together as she nears her peak. My dick hardens in my shorts as I grit my teeth, listening for the moment that she comes undone.

I think she’s close when she lets out a frustrated groan and there’s a loud bang. I don’t even hesitate in shoving the door open, terrified that she’s fallen in the shower.

“What the fuck?” Y/N snaps, opening the shower curtain to look at me.

“I-I’m sorry. I thought you fell or something.” I say, taking deep breaths to calm my racing heart. She scared me to death. I’m not surprised when she rolls her eyes at me, sitting a bottle of shampoo down on the edge of the tub.

Her eyes soften just a little when she realizes that she scared me. I take slow, easy breaths to calm my heart as she starts to lather herself up with soap without shutting the shower curtain. I can't look away as her hands massage the suds into her glorious tits then down her baby bump and around her hips. My cock is throbbing painfully already in my shorts as her hands find her breasts again as she rinses, her nipples pebbled and begging for my teeth.

"Did you cum?" I croak, my throat dry as my body screams for her.

"No." She says firmly, turning the water off and wrapping her body then hair in a towel. She steps out, looking up at me with defiant eyes before brushing past me to go to the bedroom. I watch her go down the hall before glancing back at the couch where I told myself I'd start sleeping. I really should walk away. We can't work through our issues if we're constantly avoiding it with sex. But when I look back down the hall to see the door left open and her naked silhouette climbing into the bed, I lose the rest of my restraint.

I go to the door and lean against the frame, watching as she gets a vibrator from the nightstand she'd packed away and brings it to her clit. She glares back at me as she turns the toy on, her body jerking with the sudden vibrations. The toy gets turned up as high as it will go and her eyes threaten to close as she starts to pant softly, surrendering herself to the pleasure. I can't look away, jealousy choking me over the damn toy touching her instead of me. I'm tempted to pull my cock out and masturbate with her but I know that will tip her over the edge and I don't want to help her achieve anything without me involved.

She groans when she can't reach her peak and she throws the toy down on the bed, her breathing hard as she stares back at me.

"I think your pussy is a little spoiled by me." I smirk, bringing myself to the edge of the bed and gazing at her wet, swollen pussy. Her glare intensifies as her eyes trail down my body, stopping at the tent in my shorts.

"That's fine. I'm spoiled by your pussy too." I lower myself to the bed, crawling up between her legs and savoring the shuddering breath she lets out as I stop just at her pussy.

"I want you to cum on my cock." I say, looking for her permission before I fuck her brains out. By the look in her eyes, I know she wants it too.

"Okay." She whispers. I don't hesitate in flipping her onto her hands and knees, making her yelp then moan loudly as I fill her up from behind. She's so wet that I slip right in, touching her so deep that my eyes threaten to roll back in my head. I fuck her hard and fast, sending her into orgasm after orgasm as my own quickly builds inside me. I pull her hands back, her face pressed into the comforter as I use her as nothing more but a vessel for my pleasure.

I didn’t know how to talk to her but I knew how to do this. I knew how to fuck her until she forgets everything she’s mad about. In this moment nothing else matters. Not the secrets or the lies. Not Rafe Cameron or her loser ex. Not Kie. Just this.

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #obx2 #jj maybank fluff #rudy pankow #jj maybank x you #jj obx #blueicequeen19

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sundropstories · 7 months

Text

I Remember You

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Y/n remembers everything.

a/n: I hope you guys like this I had been working on it for a while but I really have no idea how I wanted to end it. But I hope the choice I made leaves it open for interpretation. Thank you for reading <3

˖⁺‧₊ ˖⁺‧₊ ˖⁺‧₊ ˖⁺‧₊ ˖⁺‧₊ ˖⁺‧₊ ˖⁺‧₊ ˖⁺‧₊ ˖⁺‧₊ ˖⁺‧₊ ˖⁺‧˖⁺‧₊ ˖⁺‧₊

I take my seat as I wait for the barista to let me know my coffee is ready. I come to this cafe every Friday morning.

I bring a book, and sit at the same table and wait...

There's this boy, his name is Peter Parker. About a month ago the news said that he was The Spider-Man. It was insane and everyone lost it. They were saying he was a murderer because supposedly he killed Mysterio.

I don't believe it though. I know Peter Parker, okay maybe not like.. super personally. But, we've been going to school together since we were in elementary school. I can believe he is Spider-Man though I've had a few interactions with him and the personality I see. But, he's no killer.

Anyways...a weeks after his identity was released there were like these weird villains showing up. Then this huge thing was happening in the sky. It looked like it was almost...breaking in a way. I don't know maybe I just sound crazy..

Then, later that night, everyone just stopped talking about him. Literally..it was almost as if...he never existed. So I thought I was going insane, thinking I made it all up.

Till one day when I came here, Peter Pan Donut Shop.

I actually saw him come in, and he ordered a coffee. MJ and Ned acted like they had no idea who he was. When I am pretty sure him and Ned have been friends since..well forever. I'm also pretty sure him and MJ were like dating not that long ago, but I just assumed they had a bad breakup.

Until he LITERALLY introduced himself to her!! What?! I know! I was thinking the same thing. That's why I spent the last few weeks coming here.

Today I plan to make a move. Not like romantically. I just need to talk to him. I need to know I'm not crazy.

Okay yeah I definitely sound crazy.

—

"Y/n, Hot Chai, 2 shots espresso with whip!" I hear MJ yell my order. "Hey, Thank you." I say to her as I grab my drink and slip some cash into her tip jar.

"Of course!" We chat for a bit till I see him entre the cafe. MJ is actually really nice, if I'm being honest in high school I thought she was kinda intimidating.

—

I decided to gather my things and move to the bench outside. It's a nice day for this time of year so I don't wanna spend all day in there.

Almost immediately i hear the door ding as it swings open. I stand to see the brunette pass me. Immediately I try to flag him down.

"Excuse me, Peter." I say gathering my things to catch up with him. He almost immediately stops in his tracks at the sound of his name.

He turns and comes towards me so fast I barely have even left the bench.

"You know.." He whispered.

"That you're spi-" I'm cut off by him slapping his hand over my mouth. "No no no shhh.." using the other hand to hold a finger in front of his mouth.

" okay, okay.." I slowly move his hand off of me. "But, please can we talk."

He quirks an eyebrow giving me a questioning look. "Who are you?" He says it's less of a question though and more like he's demanding to know. Hurts my feelings a little though we did go to school together since kindergarten. "Y/n we've gone to school together...like our whole lives.."

He looks me over. "Okay, but not here."

—

We arrived at what I believe is his apartment. It's small but nice. Comfortable for someone living alone, and he barely has any furniture so I can tell he just moved in.

"Why don't you exist?" I ask. "Wow, straight to the point." He says moving through the kitchen. "Water?"

"No thank you, could you answer my question please." I smile. He lets out a breath, running his hand over his face.

"I did it to save everyone. The multi-verse was... Breaking? The only way I could fix it was to make everyone forget Peter Parker."

"Why do I remember? It was like one second. Your identity being exposed was all anyone could talk about, but then everything stopped. Within seconds." I take a breath. "Also what the hell is the multiverse?!"

" I don't know. And basically what it sounds like."

"I felt like I was crazy." I let out a small laugh. "You're not." He laughs with me.

—

We ended up spending the rest the night just hanging out. We played boardgames, got pizza, and ended the night watching movies.

"You know it's nice to finally talk to someone who...knows who I am." He turns to face me.

I turned a look at him, making eye contact and then looking away. "Is it true?"

"hmm"

"Did you.." I make air quotes. " 'Kill' Mysterio?"

He sucks in a breath. "Yes, but he wasn't good."

"I didn't think so." I look at him offering a supportive smile.

"He tricked me. I thought he was someone I could trust."

"How do you know you can trust me?" I shift in my seat to be fully facing him. "I have a..well my Aunt called it a 'tingle' about you. It's a good one though."

"Ew." I make scrunch my face in fake disgust. "No no not like that." He says slight panick in his voice. When we make eye contact we immediately burst out laughing.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #spiderman #peter parker x y/n #marvel #marvel x reader

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hoedamn-eron · 5 months

Text

baby, please - part 14

You and Santiago go furniture shopping for his apartment. You don't expect to be invited to a Halloween party.

Warnings: Mentions of being sick, so emetophobia warning. Unrequited feelings (👀👀). Some swearing. Teasing between Frankie and Santi, standard bro's. Lightly proofread so definitely some mistakes in here. Word count: 3,616 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

I'm BAAAAAACK. Sorry it took so long to get this out. Ideally I wanted it out for before Halloween but here we are, nearly at Christmas. My bad!

Also this feels just...a little stale to me. I tried re-writing it and going in a different direction but it just wouldn't fall into place the way I wanted it to. But I think that might be a me problem, and I will probably look at it differently once I'm back into the swing of things.

And I know we've already done a shopping trip with Santiago but I need it for the plot, okay?

Part 13 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 15

He came again with the truck.

Now was the day to really ask about the car, right? You were twenty-four weeks pregnant; he needed a car. There was no room for two babies in this truck. Oh, but you don’t want to ask him, it was rude, it was up to him if he got a car or not. And honestly, the truck was probably the best thing for today, since he’s planning on buying an entire nursery, twice.

No, he needed a car. You’ll gently ask him today.

Santi had finally cleared out his spare room, and he and Frankie had deep cleaned it and gave it a new coat of paint, and it was now ready to be filled with furniture. He had told you that you weren’t allowed to go in the room until the babies were born as there was a small gender thing in there and he didn’t want to spoil it for you.

“I’ve already looked online with Frankie and his wife, and I have an idea on what I want to get,” Santi said to you as you set off from your apartment.

“You could have ordered it online,” you say. “It’ll be easier for you.”

Santi shook his head. “Nah, I like to see the stuff before I buy it. Also, I need your input.”

You nod and hold back your joke about him being an ‘old man’. You weren’t sure why he needed your input, but you weren’t complaining about spending a day with Santi. Your cheeks warm as you think back on the last few weeks. You hadn’t brought up the fact that you were probably (definitely), stupidly in love with him, and you weren’t going to. You were embarrassed enough that you were practically getting off every night to the thought of him.

Damn your hormones.

“How’s your morning sickness?” Santi asked as he focused on the road.

“Oh, uh…nearly gone, actually,” you say. “It’s just once or twice a day now, or if I drink orange juice. Not sure why they’ve decided now to hate orange juice.”

He nods at you before smiling. “Good. I’m glad. I know it was getting you down.”

You bite your lip to stop yourself smiling like a love-struck teenager. “Yeah, it was.”

You doze against the window of his truck until you arrive to Ikea. As you pull into the busy parking lot, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness about the day ahead. It was more than just a furniture shopping trip; it was a glimpse into the future of your babies’ life with Santi, and the thought of that made your heart race.

Santi parked up as close as he could to the entrance and helped you out of the truck (you will mention the car today). You wobble a little as your centre of gravity was starting to work against you, but you steady yourself by holding onto Santi’s arm for a second before letting go, your cheeks burning. You don’t look at him as you both walk into the Ikea, and you grab a cart before Santi takes it off you.

“I have to push a double stroller soon, Santi,” you say, grinning at the look on his face. “I’m able to push a cart.”

With that, you make your way into the large store before he could say anything, Santi soon following you.

A feeling of togetherness washes over you as you pause every now and then and talk to him about your new house, how it’s big enough for you to fill with furniture. The excitement in your eyes was contagious as Santi navigated you both through the maze of furniture displays, joining in with how the kids would be able to play in the back yard with all the space you’ll have. Your heart swells at the image.

You’d been imagining two boys, with your eyes and Santiago’s hair. Tanned skin and your nose, and you could see him taking them to baseball games in those jerseys he bought when you both went shopping.

But sometimes you saw two girls, taking after their father in everything. Down to the curly hair and dark eyes and dressed in those Metallica shirts he was still fawning over. He’d probably get them all matching caps.

“I could get them a swing set,” you say. “I loved the swing set at my grandma’s house.”

“Yeah, corazón, I think they would like that.”

“And a pool, maybe. Not a big one, but a decent sized one.”

“You can do all’a that now with your house,” Santi says as you both go deeper in the Ikea. Eventually, he does take the cart from you, and you let him with no complaints.

The first stop should have been the nursery section, but you stop in the toy section. You know, you know, you have bought enough toys for your kids, and Gabrielle has donated enough to you too. But you ‘don’t have this bear,’ or ‘that dinosaur,’ and you throw them in the cart. You grin at Santi as he shakes his head at you, smiling fondly. After a few more additions to the cart (where Santi had to physically pull you away), you finally make it to the nursery section.

As you walked through carefully arranged cribs, changing tables, and adorable baby bedding sets, Santi's enthusiasm was evident. It was obvious he had done his research, and you watched him with probably heart eyes as he discussed the pros and cons of different options with you, valuing your opinion on every detail whenever he asked you.

"I was thinking something like this crib," he said, pointing to a sleek, white crib with some wooden accents and a drawer underneath. "What do you think? Is it too minimalist?"

You shrug, bending to look at the label, checking out the dimensions. “It looks good. But yeah, it looks a little plain. Does it match the nursery at your place?”

“It does,” he says. He looked around. “But everything does, really. Everything’s so…white.”

You let out a giggle as you look around too. “There is a lot of white. I suppose it’s gender neutral.”

“Suppose I could get some sheets to bring in some colour,” Santi mumbled. He looks at you with a grin. “It is a nice crib.”

“And it turns into a toddler bed for when the time comes,” you say, nodding at the product information.

“It has a matching chest of drawers,” said Santi, taking a few steps away from you and to the rest of the furniture. “And changing unit.”

“Ooh,” you say, following him quickly and taking a look. “Oh, I like the chest of drawers.”

“Yeah? Should I get them then?” Santi asked you.

“It’s up to you, Santi, these will be in your apartment, not mine. If you like them and you think they’ll go well in the room, then you should get them.”

You back and forth with him over other pieces of furniture, like whether he should get a rug (“I think it’ll bring the room together nicely.”), or a chair in their room for feeds (“It would make it easier but I’ll probably end up on the couch anyway.”), and after a while, the room started taking shape in your mind as Santiago put more things in the cart. From what you could gather, the room had a nice sage green somewhere, and Santi had chosen a blend of soft pastels and natural wood tones; you had the sneaky suspicion it may be jungle themed, based off of some of the rugs he was looking at.

You almost laughed. You could take Santiago out of the jungle, but you couldn’t take the jungle out of Santiago.

As you strolled through Ikea, you couldn't help but sneak occasional glances at Santi, admiring his dedication to making the space – his space – absolutely perfect for your babies. The way he was talking about the future with them with so such excitement and care warmed your heart, and you couldn't ignore the feelings growing inside of you. You were in love with this man.

Foolishly and despairingly in love.

“Want some lunch after this?” Santiago asked you an hour later, as you strolled through the warehouse, picking up the flat packed boxes of furniture that he’d chosen.

You nodded. “Yeah, I could eat.”

“What’re you craving?” Santi asked, grunting as he pushed another flatpack box onto the cart.

“Nothing in particular,” you say, shrugging nonchalantly as your eyes roamed over him. “I’ll have whatever you want to have.”

“Italian? I could go for a pizza.”

You nod, trying not to obviously stare and get distracted by the way the muscles in his arms move as he loads up the cart. “Sure.”

“We can stop by my place first, get this stuff to my apartment.”

You give him a look, raising your eyebrows pointedly at him. His knees. “Santi…”

He was already shaking his head. “I’ve already asked Frankie to stop by, he’s gonna help out.”

Your breath hitched at the thought of meeting Frankie. You don’t know why you suddenly felt so nervous, you were going to have to meet him sooner or later; you were pretty sure Santi was going to ask if he could make Frankie Godfather of the babies (of course you’d say yes, why wouldn’t you?).

“You don’t need to be nervous,” Santi said, chuckling, shaking his head lightly.

“I’m not nervous,” you immediately say, lying through your teeth. And it’s obvious too.

“Your face says otherwise,” Santi replies, grunting as he places the last flatpack on the cart. You internally curse yourself; you should have gotten a second one. “He doesn’t bite. He’s soft.”

“Nothing wrong with being soft,” you quip back, but Santi doesn’t reply. He just pulls the cart out of your reach, and you make your way to the check out.

After paying (you wince at the price – you offer to pay half, but Santi downright refuses) you make your way back to his truck, where an employee (practically a kid, he looked no older than nineteen, but he was built like a tank) had offered to help load. You, again, attempted not to stare at Santi as you tried not to feel so useless, but every time you reached for a box, even just a small one, Santi quickly shot you down.

“You’re carrying twins, you will hurt yourself.”

“I’m pregnant, not elderly!”

Your protesting falls on deaf ears, and Santi profusely thanks the employee for the help and hands the kid a tip. Santi helps you climb into the truck before making his way back to the driver’s side, and sends a quick text to Frankie, you assume telling him that you were on the way back to Santiago’s place.

“Want to get Carmelo’s?” Santi asked as he pulled out of the parking space.

You pull a face. “Their pizzas are greasy.”

Santi laughed as he looked in his mirrors and drove out of the lot. “That’s what makes them great.”

“Yeah, ‘great’ at giving you heart disease.”

“Okay, how about Solorzano's?”

You go quiet and think about it, before nodding. You’d ordered in with them before, and their garlic knots were to die for. Your mouth practically started watering at the thought of them. Maybe you don’t need a pizza, maybe you could just order appetisers, like the macaroni and cheese wedges, the mozzarella sticks, oh, maybe their chicken wings.

Yep, Solorzano's was good.

“Yeah, that’s fine, let’s do that,” you say.

You arrive back at Santi’s after telling him all about the food you were going to get, him laughing and telling you that you were hardcore ‘playing into the pregnant lady trope’. You pretended to take offence, telling him fact that you were just appreciating good food, that he suggested, whether you were pregnant or not.

“All right, fair,” he’d said, amused.

You try not to fawn at his laugh, but you couldn’t help it. You sighed, hopefully thinking Santi took it that you were happy that he agreed with you over your food choices.

You soon pull up to his apartment and park in his designated spot, only for a dark blue car to pull up minutes after you arrived. Your eyes widen a little as you see the infamous Francisco Morales climb out of his car and approach you both from his place parked behind Santi. He was shorter than he looked in the video, but still taller than Santi. His dark, tousled hair was hidden behind a cap, and it gave him a rugged charm, and there's something about the lines on his face that makes him look like he's seen it all but is still totally approachable. You catch a glimpse of some scars on his tanned arms, on show as the sleeves of his dark shirt were pushed up to his elbows, and it only added to the sense that this guy has some serious stories to share.

“Hey, Pope!”

“How’s it going, Fish?” Santi asked, giving Frankie a smile as they hug, patting each other on the back in a way that you would expect brothers to do. The nicknames confused you; Santi had never referred to himself as ‘Pope’, nor Frankie as ‘Fish’. “Could have tidied yourself up a bit.” Santi jokes, motioning to Frankie’s cap and old battered jacket.

“I’m doing you a favour, hermano, watch your mouth. Sarah asked me to drop this off for you too,” Frankie said, holding up a paper bag before looking at you and pointing at you with a good-natured expression on his face. “You are not to look in that bag, because it is a surprise.”

Your eyes widened for a fraction before you nodded. “Okay, yeah...noted.”

“Are you going to introduce us, teo, or did the news of twins and the financial recovery make you forget basic manners and social introductions?”

Santi gave Frankie the bird before introducing you both.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say, shaking his hand as he offered it to you.

“It’s nice to put a face to the name,” Frankie says, letting go of your hand and taking a look at the bed of the truck, full of the furniture Santi had bought. He nodded towards it as he looked at Santi. “What did you get?”

“Everything, it seems,” you joke.

Frankie gave you a grin before turning back to Santi. “When are you gonna get a car, feo? Can’t fit car seats in this thing.”

You almost laughed in relief. Now you didn’t have to ask and feel like you were intruding.

“I’m working on it, tu idiota,” Santi replied, opening the bed of the truck. “Now help me with these boxes, you can’t expect me and my knees to do all the hard work. Don’t even think about it.”

You hold your hands up in surrender at Santi’s firm gaze, landing on you as you had reached for a box.

Santi hands you his keys and you go up to his apartment to unlock the door, Santi and Frankie following you up moments later, carrying boxes up with them, huffing and puffing together. You grin as you hear Santi grumble that they ‘felt heavier than they did at Ikea’, and you make your way down to get some of the lighter things. You grab the rug that Santi chose, along with the soft toys you’d picked out.

You eye the paper bag Frankie bought, that was sat in the bed of the truck, the curiosity to take a peek inside itching at your fingertips. You look around quickly before looking at the bag before you finally shake your head. Frankie said it was a surprise, something Santi might have organised, so you shouldn’t. You should leave it alone.

“You better not look in that.”

You smirk before looking at Santi, who was giving you an amused look. “I was thinking about it. But I won’t.”

Santi rolled his eyes in amusement as he and Frankie both grab another box. You grab one last toy before you follow them up the stairs and into Santi’s living room, placing the stuff on the couch. You go back to the truck, taking the last of the small things before sitting back and watching the two men bring back the last of the flatpack boxes. Soon, Santi’s living room was representing the Ikea warehouse with how many boxes were littered around everywhere. You spotted the paper bag sitting on the small dining room table by the open plan kitchen.

Again, you choose to let it go.

You step outside, closing and locking the apartment. You see Santi and Frankie chatting by the truck, the bed now closed, and you make your way over. You hear Santi thanking Frankie for the help with the furniture.

“Don’t thank me yet, you still need help putting that shit together,” Frankie replied. “You’ll probably need all the guys for that.”

Santi snorted. “Would love to see Benny try to put together a crib...or two.”

“Well, he put Sofía’s together,” Frankie said.

Santi went quiet at that, and the two stared at each other. You weren’t sure what was happening, but it was as though they were having a private conversation with each other, without having to say anything. You go quiet, letting them have their telepathic conversation, until you cleared your throat, breaking the awkward silence. “Would you like to join us for lunch, Frankie?”

After a few more moments, Frankie turns from Santi and gives you a small smile. “I would love to, but it’s Sofía’s birthday next month, and Sarah’s got me running around trying to get the stuff for it and she has me planning this Halloween party in a couple of days.”

“The guys say they’re still going for Halloween?” Santi asked, crossing his arms over his chest. It was as if his and Frankie’s interaction hadn’t happened. You put a pin in it for now.

“Benny said he’s still coming, Ironhead’s still unsure, since Claire’s putting a bit of pressure on him to make some solid decisions on the wedding.” Frankie chuckled before looking at you. “You should come,” he suddenly said to you. “I know it’s a bit last minute and it’s mostly for kids, but it should be fun.”

Your brain stops for a moment, not realising Frankie was suddenly talking to you. You blink at him for a moment before shaking your head. “Oh! Uh, yeah, I’ll definitely think about it. I was gonna go with my friend and her kids trick or treating – “

Frankie cuts you off with a wave of his hand. “Bring them along, seriously. Sarah loves meeting new people, she’s been talking my ear off about when Pope was finally going to introduce you to everyone.”

“Frankie,” Santi muttered firmly, a light blush coming to his cheeks, causing you to giggle.

You nod at Frankie. “Didn’t realise I was such an interesting topic.”

“Are you kidding? You managed to get Santiago Garcia to slow down and think about his future for once,” Frankie said, ignoring Santi’s very obvious glare.

You grin. “I’ll talk to my friend, see if she wants to join.”

“Great. You’re coming though, right hermano?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Santi replied. “Can’t disappoint Sofía.”

You feel your chest warm and your heart swell with the way he looks as he talks about his niece, how he was so enamoured with her. You wonder how he would talk about your kids and how he would act with them. You find your eyes quickly swell with years, and you look away from the two men quickly, wiping at them.

Damn hormones.

“Great, just let me know plans, yeah?” Frankie said, nodding at you both. “No pressure, though, if you can’t make it.”

You nod. “No worries, I'll let you know. Or I’ll get Santi to tell you, anyway.”

“Again, it was nice to finally meet you,” Frankie said, shaking your hand again. “I’ll text you later, hermano.”

“See ya, Fish,” Santi replied, giving Frankie a quick hug before the two of you watch him leave. You both wave as he drives away.

“So,” you say after a few moments, handing Santi’s keys back over to him. “What’s with the nicknames?”

“Our call signs,” Santi said, taking the keys. “Just stuck afterwards.”

“Oh, right. Why is yours Pope?”

Santi was silent for a moment before he pulled a face, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter, I think it was something stupid Benny said.”

You don’t believe him, but you won’t push. He was always a little closed off about his days in the army. “Okay. So, ready for lunch?”

“Sure...yeah,” he answers, before opening the truck door for you. He hesitates again for a moment as you turn to climb in, before he blurts out, “You don’t have to come to the party.”

You look at Santi, seeing his unsure face looking at you. “Why?”

“Don’t want you to feel obligated,” he says.

You study him for a moment, noticing his stance. He seemed a little out of sorts, nervous almost. You give him a reassuring look. “I want to go. It’ll be fun.” Then you give him a teasing smirk. “And besides, I’d miss out on hearing all the embarrassing stories about you from your friends! No way am I missing this.”

You see his shoulders relax a little at your words before he rolls his eyes. “Funny. Get in the truck.”

“You know, if you got a car, I wouldn’t struggle so much getting in and out of this thing.”

“I fucking knew the truck bothered you.”

• tu idiota - you asshole • feo - ugly

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @bluenredndeath, @superficialfeelings, @othersideoftheparadise, @beezusvreeland

#triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader #santiago garcia #oscar isaac #pregnant!reader #santiago garcia x f!reader

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baronessblixen · 7 months

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Prompt? Mulder and Scully pick out baby furniture and later talk about baby names? Or one or the other, I'm happy either way! 🙈

Look who's answering a five-year-old prompt! I think this was supposed to be about the new baby, but I wrote about William instead.

Fluff, set after "Alone": With Mulder being unemployed, and Scully on maternity leave, they spend their time thinking about furniture, baby names, and all the ways their lives will change. (wc: 1,378)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 14: Preparation is Everything

Fox Mulder is a new man.

His naked body is still adorned with pale scars, but they’re healing, slowly fading away. Soon, they will be gone, and with them the only proof of what he went through. How many people can claim to have come back from the death? Mulder doesn’t even want to know.

The other day, Scully left a pamphlet for group therapy on his coffee table. His first instinct was to throw it into the trash, but then he reconsidered. Scully isn’t pushing him. No one is. They’re all just glad he’s back among the living. Well, most of them. He bets that Kersh can’t wait for him to die for real. That feeling, he realizes, is mutual.

When he stood in front of Kersh's desk, his former boss barely able to contain his glee, he was ready to fight. To defend himself and go on another rampage. That feeling lasted all of five seconds. Not worth it, a voice inside him whispered. He thought of Scully, and the baby, and knew that they were the only thing that mattered to him now. They didn’t need him jumping off oil rigs. He’s caused Scully seven years of grief and he was done. Enough was enough. Someone else could take over the X-Files. He may not trust Doggett yet, but Scully does. And when Scully trusts someone, he knows they’re good people.

So, he’s Fox Mulder now. Just Fox Mulder. Unemployed bum, spending time at his partner’s apartment whenever she lets him, and trying to figure out what to do next.

“What are you doing?” Mulder asks as he steps into the living room where Scully sits on the couch, engrossed in a colorful catalog.

“Looking at baby furniture,” she replies with a sigh.

“I thought- I thought you already had everything.”

“I thought I’d have more time,” she admits sheepishly, biting her lip. Seeing his Scully unprepared for anything just makes him love her more. But he knows better than to tease her.

“Well, you’re in luck,” Mulder says, sitting down next to her. “We both have plenty of time. With me being fired, and you on maternity leave, we have all the time in the world. Let’s go shopping.”

“Mulder, we have the catalog.” She points at a crib with a smiling baby inside of it. Mulder thinks it looks a bit like an alien. “We can order everything we need.”

“Or,” he says, drawing the word out. “We can go into a store and pick things out.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure I don’t want the kid to sleep in a thing that looks like this.” He points at the ugliest crib he’s ever seen. “$1000? Does it come with the whole apartment? Come on, Scully. It’s going to be a nice trip to Babies'R'Us.”

“Does no one work anymore?” Mulder mumbles as he and Scully step into the crowded baby store. There are squeaky bright colors everywhere and Mulder doesn’t know where to start. He keeps close to Scully’s side, but she, too, seems overwhelmed by the sheer size of this place.

“Wish you were hunting monsters instead?” he asks Scully and she gives him a small smile.

“At least we have experience with that.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Mulder assures her. “Look, that’s the baby section. Let’s start there.”

In the end, it’s not as difficult as either of them thought it would be. It doesn’t take them long to find the essentials. They both fall in love with the same crib and Mulder gets so excited that he kisses her quickly and noisily in front of another family, not caring at all.

“Mulder.” Her cheeks are coloring and she’s looking around nervously. Old habits die hard.

“I doubt we’ll run into Skinner or Kersh here, Scully. Or anyone we know. Either way, we’re not working together anymore, are we?” The realization hits him that he’s telling the truth. As of right now, they’re no longer work partners. There’s nothing holding them together. He’s not even FBI anymore.

“Are you all right?” Scully touches his chest.

“I’m- I just realized that we’re no longer partners.”

“Are you leaving me?” There’s no worry in her voice, but rather amusement.

“You know what I mean.”

“Mulder, we don’t need to be working together in the basement to be partners. You know that, right? We are partners in this.” She takes his hand and puts it on her stomach. “Unless you-”

“Oh, I want. I’m all in, Scully. I hope you know that?” She nods, and he sees a few tears pool in the corner of her eyes. He almost ruined another moment with his insecurities.

“Do you think we have everything we need for now?”

“You’re tired,” Mulder states and she doesn’t deny it.

“And hungry,” she says with an apologetic smile.

“We’ll get you and Junior something to eat. Let’s get out of here.”

Their baby is a pizza lover. They may not know much about their child yet, but they do know that. Mulder watches Scully happily lick her fingers clean after eating a slice of greasy pepperoni pizza and thinks he might even be a little turned out by her enjoyment of it.

“Happy now?” he asks her, unable to hide his own happiness.

“Very much so. I just- I need to get comfortable.” She’s half sitting, half lying on the couch, and watching him with curious eyes. She’s been doing that a lot lately. Who can blame her? After all, she had to bury him. Had to try and make peace with him being gone and having to do all of this on her own. He doesn’t want to think about missing all of this. He’s missed so much already. The moment she found out. The morning sickness. Her growing belly. He missed all of it. He can only try to make up for all of it now. But they will never get that time back.

“Mulder, stop,” she says gently, a hand on his thigh. “I can feel you thinking.”

“Can you?” he asks with a sad smile.

“I wish I could turn back the time and-”

“None of this is your fault, Scully.”

“It’s not your fault either.”

“Debatable.”

“Not debatable,” she says firmly. “You’re here now and it’s everything- Mulder, it’s everything.”

“You know you’ll see a lot of me now, right? With me being out of a job. I need to- I will find something. We can’t let Junior think I’m some kind of slob.”

“You’re going to be an amazing father,” Scully whispers as if she were sharing a secret.

“Let’s hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” She winks at him and they both laugh softly. A truce.

“Have you thought about names for Junior?” Mulder asks as Scully snuggles into his side. He puts his arm around her and, a bit more hesitantly, lets his hand wander to her stomach. What a miracle they’ve created together.

“I have a few ideas. What about you?”

“It’s your decision.”

“Mulder.”

“No, I think you should decide. I’ll veto if it’s something like… Nimrod.”

“Too bad. That was my favorite.” She grins up at him. “I was thinking about all the people we lost. Samantha and Melissa. We could pick something similar to that, to honor them. Or give them a name with no memories attached. Give them a fresh start.”

“They deserve a fresh start.” Mulder kisses her temple.

“All of us do,” Scully says, putting her hand on top of Mulder’s on her stomach. “We’ll know what to call him when we see him.”

“Him?” Mulder asks.

“Or her.”

“You know,” Mulder says, closing his eyes, and letting his imagination take over. “I think our child is going to change the world. Save it even, maybe. They’re going to do great things.” He can see it. Can see their child grow up from baby to child, to teenager and adult. He can’t wait to be there and watch every single step they take. Holding their hand if they need him to.

“I think you’re right, Mulder,” Scully says.

“You hear that, baby?” Mulder presses his ear to her stomach, murmuring the words against the fabric of her shirt. “Your mom just said I’m right.”

#fictober23 #so proud of myself seriously #not the oldest prompt i might add #i was *this* close to writing angst #ohhh and i will #but you get fluff today #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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momoyukirin · 16 days

Text

Momo's "An Idol's Daily Life" Rabbitchat Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Brother-sister* shopping

Momo: Maneko-chan, good work today~! We just were at the cafe you recommended earlier!

Momo: It was trendy, both the multi-grain rice and the dessert with soy milk were delicious and my sis was really happy! Thanks!☆

Tsumugi: Thank you for your hard work, Momo-san! I'm glad you both liked it!

Option 1:

Tsumugi: Were you able to buy your parents' present?

Momo: Yep, it's perfect (b・ω・d) We ended up going with the pyjamas Yuki recommended earlier! They're made of organic cotton and look really comfortable, so I think they'll like them!

Option 2:

Tsumugi: What did you eat, Momo-san?

Momo: I got a sticky donburi with natto and seafood∼! Even though it was lightly seasoned, it was really delicious and filling +.(≧∀≦)°+.°

Option 3:

Tsumugi: Did your sister say anything?

Momo: She asked if I'd been cleaning my room properly w She knows I'm the type that doesn't tidy up much, it's that obvious huh(; ・`Д・΄)

Momo: Ah, hold on. I just got a rabbitchat from my sis.

Tsumugi: Oh, you're not together at the moment!

Momo: Nope! Apparently there's a furniture shop she wanted to check out for the new house, so she left first∼

Momo: I stayed at the cafe to watch over our stuff ww

Momo: She says to wait a bit longer cause she also wants to check out the light fixtures ((+_+))

Tsumugi: So that's why! Preparing a new house seems challenging ><

Momo: She seems busy since there's a lot that needs to be done, but she's enjoying it too!

Momo: After she's back, I'll help her choose clothes for her fiancée! She said she wants to use me as reference, because we wear the same size!

Tsumugi: You two are so close! I'm a bit envious of siblings who go shopping together.

Tsumugi: I'm an only-child, so I kind of wish I could experience something like that..!

Tsumugi:

Momo: Well then Maneko-chan, I will become your big brother and help you shop for clothes (+・`－・΄)

Tsumugi: It'd be great to have a big brother as caring and attentive as you, Momo-san!

Momo: Really? In that case Momo-chan will aim to become the national big brother!

Momo: I'll always help when you're in trouble and show you just how cool I am☆

Tsumugi:

Momo: Of course, I won't just be spoiling you!

Momo: When you spend too much time playing, I'll kabedon you and say "Games are only allowed for one hour a day (・`－・΄) + stern".

Tsumugi: So that everyone can experience the "NEXT Re:vale" project! lol

Momo: I wonder if I'll get told "no way" again www

Tsumugi: Were you this protective when you were little too?

Momo: (;`・～・) um

Momo: Back then my sis and I would hide under our futon and play games so I probably wasn't this confident ww

Tsumugi: I think a national big brother who'd play with you like this is wonderful too!

Momo: Maneko-chan, you're too kind!

Momo: Alright! I'll aim to be a national big brother who is kind both to those around him and to himself! (`・Д・΄) stern

Tsumugi:

Literally "Older sister and younger brother"

#ainana #i7 translations #idolish7 #momo #re:vale #momoyuki #yukimomo

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echo-goes-mmm · 8 months

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Ambrose and Elliot #9

Masterpost

Warnings: slight manipulation (Ambrose encouraging healthy habits)

Elliot’s head rested on Ambrose’s lap. He carded his fingers through his white hair while he thought. On one hand, Elliot shouldn’t be ordered around like a servant (or worse). It wasn’t right to take advantage of his conditioning. On the other, it was clear Elliot was compelled to obey, and the lack of direction made him nervous. He needed to be cared for; he needed a guardian.

“Elliot, I’ve come up with a couple rules for you,” he began. Elliot tilted his head up towards him.

“Firstly, you must eat at least three times a day. Even if I’m not around, I want you to go to the kitchen and eat something when you’re hungry. That goes for drinking water, too. Get some when you’re thirsty.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I also want you to rest when you’re tired.” He could see the wheels turning in Elliot’s mind. He was confused, and Ambrose’s heart ached.

“Yes, Sir.”

“This one is really important, love.” Elliot sat up.

“No one is allowed to hurt you, including yourself. If anyone tries, you come to me as soon as you can. Even if it’s the middle of the night, you come get me. Understand?”

“I understand, Sir.”

“There’s no need to be so formal. I’d like you to speak your mind, Ellie. It’s nice,” he softened his voice, “I like to see you relaxed.”

“Um. Yes, sir. Is.. is this okay?” Elliot had dropped the rigid tone, his posture sinking from ram-rod straight to his more natural pose.

“That’s great,” Elliot beamed at him. “Let’s go downstairs and get some breakfast, alright?”

___________________

Master was pleased with him. So pleased, he didn’t bother punishing him yet. He hadn’t even slapped him.

The rules Master had given him were fairly easy to follow and remember. The hardest part would be ‘speaking his mind’ and he wasn’t quite sure what that meant. He’d have to figure it out. His old master told him things he didn’t understand, too.

His old master didn’t like Elliot calling him ‘master’ in front of outsiders. Elliot supposed Ambrose’s orders weren’t much different, but he’d probably prefer to be called Ambrose to outsiders as well. He said he didn’t like formality. Secret rules were just as important as the spoken kind, and Elliot committed it to memory. He couldn't help calling strangers "sir" and "ma'am" but hopefully that wouldn't be a problem.

Master gave him breakfast (bacon and toast) and sat across from him. Master had a cup of tea in his hands, but no food. Elliot could smell the chamomile and could see no milk in it. Tomorrow he would get up and have Master’s tea ready for him. Hopefully he didn’t put in honey, or Elliot would be punished for the mistake.

“I was thinking we could go shopping today. I’d like to buy you some clothes and maybe some furniture while we’re at it. How does that sound?” said Master.

“If it pleases y-”

There’s no need to be so formal.

“-I mean, that sounds very nice, sir.” Elliot’s opinion would mean little. Masters did as they wanted, so Ambrose must prefer him to agree or he wouldn’t have asked. Maybe that’s what he meant by ‘speaking his mind’?

“Is there anything in particular you’d like? Decor or specific colors?”

Uh oh. Elliot had never been good at vague questions. Even the name he’d picked out he had stolen from someone else. It was sheer luck Ambrose had liked it.

“I can’t think of anything, sir.”

“That’s alright. If you see something you want, just let me know.” Master smiled at him.

If Master enjoyed spoiling his slave, then that was his right.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em

#whump #my writing #ambrose and elliot #it's short cause i needed to break it up or it would be So Long #upload schedule? i don't know her #slavery whump

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destinedfordiaperstories · 2 months

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Sammy's Little Problem, Chapter 15

Chapter Fourteen here.

It took a second for Sammy to comprehend how huge Littles’R’Us actually was when they pulled into the parking lot. It made Costco seem small by comparison. This wasn’t going to be a quick trip.

Sammy took a deep breath, trying to not feel so overwhelmed. She couldn’t help but notice Allie was treating her much more like a Little than ever before. Movie night now felt like a lifetime ago. She still didn’t feel like a Little. She felt the same as she did the day she received the news.

Just…with much less bathroom control. And did get a bit sleepier around midday and around 8 PM, and, she had to admit, did have to work harder than usual to not be emotionally overwhelmed. But still, adjusting to being treated like a Little was harder than she expected.

“You ready, Sammy?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Alyssa laughed, “well I guess not, no. But I want you to stay close to me, this store is huge and I don’t want you getting lost, okay? I want you to hold my hand or the cart at all times.”

“I’m not a baby,” Sammy huffed.

“I never said you were, Sammy. I just don’t want you getting lost. What would you do if you got lost? You don’t have the keys to the car. You don’t have a cellphone to call me. What would you do?”

“Well, I would have my cell phone if you didn’t take it away!” Sammy retorted.

“We went over this, Sammy,” Alyssa said sternly, “you don’t need a cellphone like you had. We can get you one designed for Littles in the future, but I don’t want you surfing the web and getting into trouble.”

Sammy stuck her tongue out Allie before she realized she was doing it. Her face flushed with embarrassment.

“Well, that is a great point there, Sammy!” Allie laughed, “now can you hold my hand?”

Sammy did. They walked into the store. It was hard to fathom how large it was. There seemed to be endless rows of Little’s products of all levels. It was so big, Alyssa grabbed a map before heading to the counter.

“Hello,” the woman at the counter said nicely, “how can I help you today?”

“We’re here to get everything set up for my new Little, Sammy,” Alyssa responded.

“What a cutie!” the woman said looking down at Sammy, “the first trip is always so exciting! You get to pick out everything your heart desires, little one!”

Sammy couldn’t bring herself to respond. Instead, she hid behind Alyssa in embarrassment.

“She’s still a bit shy,” Alyssa acknowledged.

“Well, that’s perfectly fine!,” she said to Sammy before turning back to Alyssa, “I can get you set up, did you bring the paperwork from the Littles Registration Office?”

“Yep, right here.”

“Perfect. Okay. So I see Sammy here is a Level Two Little. Most of the L2 supplies are down towards the back. Just head straight down and you can’t miss it. You’ll find the diaper aisle on the way, as well as any of the products that are appropriate for both L1s and L2s, such as bottles, sippy cups, and diaper bags.”

“Great,” Alyssa replied, “but these shopping carts don’t seem big enough to carry everything, though.”

“Whoops, I almost forgot! You’ll use this scanner here to select any of the bigger items you’d want. We offer same day delivery and installation if you finish before noon, which gives you three and a half hours, plenty of time. For things like diapers, you can put some in your cart, but the rest you can scan in and we’ll delivery them along with any furniture. And everything you scan will be added up and once you get to the checkout, the government rebate will automatically deduct from the total and you can pay the difference, if any, there.”

“Thank you so much,” Alyssa says as the woman gives her the scanner, “I think we can figure it out from here!”

Alyssa grabs a cart. “Okay, Sammy, you ready to start?”

“I-I guess,” Sammy whimpers.

Unsurprisingly, the diaper section is huge. There are diapers of every size, thickness, color, interest.

“It look’s like the L2 diapers are a few rows down,” Allie says, consulting the map.

“What’s the difference between L1 and L2 diapers, Allie?”

“Well, L1s and L2s have different needs. Remember, L1s aren’t able to walk or talk, so their diapers need to be different than for L2s. L1 diapers are way thicker since they don’t need to worry about walking. They’re so cute though. I’m sure we could get you some!”

“Sammy laughs nervously, “I think that’s okay, Allie.”

“Well, if you change your mind, let me know!”

They get to the L2 diaper aisles. Sammy sees there are three sections: Daytime Diapers, Nighttime Diapers, and Swim Diapers. Each design had a diaper on display, to let the Littles get a better idea of each design.

“Okay, lets start with daytime diapers,” Allie says, “which ones do you like best, Sammy?”

Sammy’s stomach sank at the question. This made it feel so real. She was going to pick out the diapers she’d wear for the rest of her life.

“I-I don’t know,” Sammy whispers.

Allie pulls Sammy in for a hug. “It’s a lot, I understand, Sammy. But would you rather have me pick out boring, ugly diapers? If you’re going to wear them anyway, you might as choose the ones that match your style!”

Sammy doubted diapers would ever match anyone’s “style,” especially not hers. As she looked around, she definitely didn’t think anyone of these diapers would do that. All of them were in sickening pastel colors or complete with babyish cartoon patterns on them. She started walking down the aisle, seeing her options.

“Look at this one, Sammy!” Allie encouraged, “these one’s have astronauts and these one’s have rockets on them!”

Alyssa knew it was a mistake as soon as she said it. Sure, they did make the most sense for Sammy, but maybe it was still a bit too soon for Sammy to want them.

Sammy teared up almost immediately. It was one thing to go from an adult to a Little, but going from potentially being a rocket scientist, to wearing rockets on her diaper was just too much. Tears welled in Sammy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Sammy, I should have known that was a stupid suggestion! I didn’t mean to upset you!”

“It’s not fair!” Sammy whined, “I don’t want to wear diapers with rockets on them, I want to work on rockets! I want to go home!”

Alyssa kicked herself. She should know how to not set off her own Little’s tantrums, even if this was so new. “Sammy, please, everything is okay. Come here.”

“No!” Sammy shrilled defiantly, stomping her feet, “I won’t do it! I won’t choose a diaper! I won’t be a Little! I won’t I won’t I won’t!”

Sammy’s screams echoed across the store, drawing sympathetic looks from other Caregivers. Alyssa stood there, unsure how to help Sammy.

“It’s okay you’re upset, Sammy. It’s okay to be angry. I know you don’t want to be wearing diapers. These are big emotions, it’s perfectly fine to feel them. But right now you need to choose some, okay? It’s not up for debate.”

Sammy looked mutinous. “I’m not a baby! You can’t make me!”

Alyssa sighed. “Sammy, now is not the time for screaming. I understand you’re frustrated, honey. But you need to calm down and explain to me how you’re feeling, alright? You cannot scream like this in public. Can you take a deep breath for me, Sammy?”

It took a few more stomps, but eventually Sammy gave in and took a deep breath.

“Thank you, Sammy. You’re doing great. Now let all your anger and frustration out as you breathe out, okay? Nice job. One more time. Good girl, Sammy. Now, can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

Sammy took a few steadying breaths. As she did, she felt herself calm down, regaining the clarity she had before. “I-I’m sorry, Allie! Sometimes it feels like I lose control and just want to cry and scream, I don’t know w-what’s happening to me.”

“I understand, Sammy, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“But we can’t yell and scream when that happens, can we? We need to talk about our feelings before they explode, okay?”

“Y-you’re right, Allie.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Sammy. Just promise when you start to feel overwhelmed, you’ll tell me, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Thank you, Sammy. That’s very mature of you. Now, can you help me choose some diapers?”

“Yeah, I can, Allie,” Sammy says, looking back at the rocket ship diapers, “I actually do want them, Allie. I want to see them so I’ll always remember my goal, to be the first Little rocket scientist ever!"

Go to Chapter Sixteen.

#ab/dl babygirl #cg/l #cg/l community #cg/l lifestyle #sammyslittleproblem #cg/l little #ab/dl community #ab/dl fiction #ab/dl lifestyle #diaper community

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