#And in my own home i tend to just put them in a corner

[heich0e]

sukuna likes a lot of things about you.

he likes the perfume you wear, and how recently his sheets have started smelling a bit like you even on the nights you don't spend in his bed. he likes the sound of your voice when you first wake up and how you're fairly slow to rise, so you tend to walk around first thing in the morning a little groggy and disoriented. he likes that you're intelligent—far more intelligent than someone like him deserves—but that you're also clever and quick witted. he likes that you're gentle but can still be headstrong, and aren't afraid to talk back to him sometimes. he likes how well you get along with his nephew. he likes how much his family likes you.

he does not, however, like what you just said to him.

"did you just say... my brother... is hot?"

you blink at him, seemingly taken aback by his horrified tone.

"no," you say with a little shake of your head, but sukuna has no opportunity to feel any sort of relief about the miscommunication. "i said he's kinda sexy."

sukuna feels every artery, vein, and capillary in his circulatory system throb in the wake of your words, and it's as close to a miracle as a man like him can hope for that he doesn't drop dead where he stands from the pure shock of it. his eye twitches at the corner as he continues processing what you've said, his gaze sliding from your blithe expression to his older brother on the other side of the apartment.

jin is in the kitchen with yuuji, washing up the last few plates from dinner. his six-year-old son had just soaked him with the spray nozzle on the sink a few seconds prior, and the two of them laugh together while jin uses the hem of his ugly knit sweater to wipe his face. he'd taken his glasses off after the unexpected drenching, and his damp hair is slicked back from where he ran his hands through it.

sukuna looks back at you, and finds your attention had followed his own into the kitchen. you're watching jin and yuuji interact with a little smile on your face.

sukuna snaps.

in what feels like the blink of an eye, the man scoops you up in one arm—tossing you over his shoulder as effortlessly as he might a half-empty bag of rice—and snatches up your nearby coats with the other before spinning abruptly on his heel towards the door.

"sukuna!" you gasp, calling his name shrilly as you beat your fist weakly against his back. "put me down!"

the spectacle unfolding in the living room draws yuuji and jin's attention towards it, watching in confusion as sukuna stomps in the direction of the genkan.

"ji-chan!" yuuji calls out in dismay, hopping down off the little red step stool he uses to reach the sink and running after him. "where're you going?"

"home," sukuna grunts out tersely, still clutching you in his grasp as you squirm, stuffing his feet into his shoes in the genkan and grabbing yours with the hand not pinning you in place. he keeps his back to his nephew as he reaches for the door.

"but why?" yuuji asks, a lilt of sadness in his little voice.

"sukuna..." jin laughs awkwardly in the doorway to the kitchen, just behind his son, trying to diffuse the situation at hand—the situation he doesn't even properly understand himself.

"papa," yuuji starts to warble, his voice pitching up and breaking sadly in the middle of his cry of protest. "ji-chan's stealing my friend!"

sukuna freezes. you stop squirming.

it goes quiet for a moment.

there's a bit of shuffling and a sound of exertion as, sukuna assumes, jin scoops his crying son up into his arms.

"it's okay, yuuji," you say forcing a gentle, comforting tone. sukuna feels your hands press against his back, and assumes you've propped yourself up so you can meet his nephew's teary gaze. "i'm not feeling very good, so ji-chan's gonna take me home now, is that okay?"

yuuji sniffles a little. "you don't feel good?"

"no," you tell him, "i'm feeling a bit sick."

"are your legs sick?" yuuji asks after considering your words, a bit less distraught than before but still sniffly. "is that why ji-chan has to carry you?"

sukuna feels your fingers twist into the back of his t-shirt.

you hum in agreement to the little boy's question, but the sound is notably strained.

yuuji sighs. "it's a good thing ji-chan's so strong."

"well, say goodnight, yuuji," jin—clearly a bit bewildered—cuts into the conversation as sukuna opens up the apartment door.

"goodniiiiiight!" yuuji calls to sukuna's retreating frame. "make sure you don't drop my friend, ji-chan!"

the door swings closed behind you both with a final dull thud.

the two of you are halfway down the sidewalk outside of jin and yuuji's apartment, still draped over sukuna's shoulder as he carries you, before either of you says anything. you're the first to speak.

"if you don't put me down i'm gonna start screaming," you say, and your voice is shockingly even considering the circumstances.

"you wouldn't," sukuna grunts dismissively.

"i absolutely would," you reply, and sukuna pauses in his stride when he hears the sincerity in your voice.

he just stands there for a moment, in the middle of the sidewalk, the quiet residential street thankfully deserted at this time of evening. he hesitates for a moment, wondering just how loud of a scream you'd be able to muster, and just how quickly it might draw a crowd on a street this silent.

he sighs, the sound resentful and defeated all at once.

"shoes," you order.

sukuna sets your shoes down on the ground, making sure they land upright.

"me, next."

carefully, sukuna lowers you down to the ground, holding you up long enough for you to navigate your feet into your waiting shoes. once both have safely been slipped on, he releases his hold on you and steps back. you turn to him with your expression pinched in irritation, your arms crossing over your chest.

"so, what was that about?" you ask him with an eyebrow raised.

"i'm takin' you home," he replies flatly.

"why?"

sukuna stares down at you, his arms crossing over his own chest to mirror your defensive stance. "you're lucky i'm not taking you to the hospital to get your head checked out after you called my lameass dweeb brother sexy."

you let out a long, world-weary breath, lifting a hand to your face and holding it over your eyes. sukuna just watches you, still pissed off but slowly regaining his senses as the cold evening air bites at his burning cheeks.

"you are..." you pause momentarily, spreading your fingers so you can glare at him weakly. "an idiot."

sukuna's jaw clenches. "you're the one lusting after a four-eyed old man who cries during kids movies."

"i'm never said i was lusting after anyone," you say, letting your hand drop to your side in exasperation. "i said he looked kinda sexy with his hair pushed back because he reminded me of you!"

there's a long, excruciating moment of silence that stretches out for miles between you.

sukuna... must have missed that part.

"oh."

"yeah," you bite back. "oh."

sukuna looks up at the streetlight overhead, if only as an excuse to avert his gaze from your withering stare. he squints his eyes like he's straining to see something far away.

"guess i might've... overreacted a bit."

"a bit," you repeat flatly.

a strong breeze rushes past, rustling the leaves on the trees that line the street and sending a shiver through you. sukuna looks down again, watching as you clasp your arms across your chest for warmth, and wordlessly takes his jacket off his arm to wrap it around your shoulders.

"i've got my own coat," you mutter sullenly as sukuna tugs the two sides of his jacket closed around you like a cocoon. you burrow your face down into the collar in spite of your words.

"you don't want mine?" sukuna counters, knowing fully well how much you like it when he puts his coat on you—and very much using it to his own advantage.

you purse your lips, the tips of your fingers appearing from inside the jacket to clutch sides of the zipper, pulling the garment protectively around your frame. "i never said that, either."

sukuna laughs, rolling his eyes.

"you owe your nephew an apology," you tell him. "we were supposed to read a new book tonight."

"yeah, yeah," sukuna says, waving his hand dismissively. it's of little concern to him, at this point. the kid's not particularly hard to make it up to; it'll only take a couple of chocolates and a trip to the park before the incident is forgotten entirely.

might be a little harder to clear it up with his older brother, though.

"jin faints when he gets needles, you know," sukuna tells you, his tone shockingly serious. "he only uses kids shampoo because he hates when it gets in his eyes and likes the fact it smells like strawberries. and he got so scared in a test of courage in high school that he pissed himself."

you look at your him with a look of absolute shock on your face.

"why are you telling me this?" you ask him incredulously.

sukuna leans down in your space, practically nose to nose with you, his expression stern.

"him and i share DNA—we're gonna look alike, and I can't do anythin' about it," sukuna says, something boyishly petulant in his tone. "i'm making sure you never think of that loser as being anything even remotely close to sexy ever again."

sukuna watches from up close as your expression shifts, a glimmer of mirth swirling in your gaze underneath the glow of the streetlight overhead.

"you really are an idiot," you breathe, half-way to a laugh, the sound is entirely too fond to have any of the bite you may have hoped.

sukuna smirks, shrugging indifferently. "he got the brains, i got the looks."

"he got the personality, too," you add pointedly.

sukuna leans forward, a hand slipping behind your back to pull you close, slotting his mouth to yours in a slow, searing kiss. as your lips part to welcome him, your head tipping back, he feels your grip on the jacket around your frame slacken. when your fingers twist into the material of his shirt to pull him closer, he grins triumphantly into the kiss.

pulling away, he revels in the slightly dazed look on your face. at the sheen of his spit spread across your lips. at the faint smell of your perfume that will cling to his coat just like it does to his bedsheets back at home.

"oh well," sukuna breathes, blissfully indifferent, leaning in close to kiss you again. and on the quiet street outside his brother's apartment, wrapped in his coat against the evening chill, you let him.

it doesn't matter what his brother has, sukuna decides, because he's got something much, much better.

[ochacoca]

구원

word count: 2,297

ft. kageyama, tsukishima, akaashi, suna, kuroo, & iwaizumi

IN WHICH you experience your first kiss w/ haikyuu boys

small a/n: this is pretty old i posted this on my old account (that's now deleted) so i might re-upload some of my fics <3

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

▪︎ kageyama would be so awkward.

▪︎ i feel like he'd be the type of person to put so much thought into it to make sure it's absolutely perfect and make it somewhat unforgettable. he's a very determined person, on and off court, so i think he'd approach the first kiss in the same manner.

▪︎ but then again, he's awkward. the days he spent planning to get it right going to complete waste due to his nerves, and he's barely able to mutter out a complete sentence.

the sun set long ago, and the sound of cicadas and screeching of sneakers from inside the gym were the noises y/n heard. it was almost a daily routine for the freshly new couple to walk home together. y/n would wait outside with a couple of snacks for the both of them, he'd take his share and walk them home while occasionally rubbing his hand against their own, then they'd go their separate ways for the night.

usually they'd engage in a casual conversation discussing their day, but kageyama had been oddly silent throughout most of the walk. “are you okay?” they questioned after a long time of awkward silence. kageyama simply nodded while continuing to look at his feet as they walked. y/n thought maybe he was stressed about practice or an upcoming tournament, his face looked like he was going to hurl.

they finally arrived at y/n's residence and turned to face each other to say their final goodbyes for the night, but kageyama still couldn't keep eye contact. he fiddled with his hands as his eyes darted everywhere but them. “are you sure you're okay?” they questioned again, a look of pure concern now stitched onto their face. kageyama had spent days planning this, weeks even, but now that the moment has come every detail of his well-prepared plan slipped his mind.

all he could think of was just how beautiful y/n looked with the shine of the moonlight slightly glistening on them.

“i- uh..” he started, but anything he wanted to say couldn't leave his mouth. deciding not to waste anymore time, kageyama grabs onto their shoulders and pulls them in, pressing his lips on the soft plush of theirs. he didn't even give them a second to respond before pulling away and running his way back home, leaving y/n in a utter state of shock.

“.. i'll see you tomorrow?!” she yelled. but it didn't seem to reach the ears of the raven-haired boy who'd already turned the corner.

TSUKISHIMA KEI

▪︎ tsukishima would attempt, keyword: attempt, to be nonchalant about it… but the blush on his face says otherwise!

▪︎ tsukki is known for being relatively emotionally distant and tends to use sarcastic humor as a way to hide it. (?)

▪︎ i think that'd he would use this humor during the kiss to deter away from the fact that he's showing his more soft/vulnerable side.

“oi, pay attention,” tsukishima teased as he lightly tapped y/n's head with the pen he held in his hand. “the answer is practically right in front of you.” the two sat on the floor of tsukishima's bedroom, studying for an upcoming exam in the subject y/n struggled in the most: math.

y/n groaned and leaned all the way back until their back hit the floor, running their hands all over their face is agony. “i hate this! i don't wanna do it anymore!” they complained once more for what tsukishima felt was the hundredth time. he rolled his eyes at his partner's behavior, grabbing their hand and lifting them to make them sit back up.

“it's not that bad, you're just not trying.” he retorted. y/n pouted at their boyfriend's words and slouched as he continued to go on and on about the lesson in front of them. but as he kept talking, the sound of his words were completely drowned out and all they could think about was how pretty he looked right now.

he was wearing a hoodie (that y/n finally returned to him), sweatpants, and talking about whatever blah blah blah nonsense he was saying. they always did find intelligent men attractive. the thought was sudden, but now that they thought about kissing him, it wouldn't leave their mind.

tsukishima was still distracted from explaining the lesson to them to notice that they were crawling towards him until he felt a hand touch his cheek. he looked up with a raised brow, and before he could even react y/n was pressing their lips against his.

tsukishima stared at them almost wide-eyed after they pulled away. “tuh, what was that?” he muttered before looking down at the papers sprawled on the ground. it may have sounded like he didn't care, but the redness on his face and the tips of his ears gave it away.

AKAASHI KEIJI

▪︎ the calmest of them all honestly. (internally freaking out though)

▪︎ i don't think he'd pre-plan like kageyama, but he would choose the perfect setting and it'd turn out amazingly. i think he'd be the type of partner to read his s/o's body language perfectly.

▪︎ akaashi would make it a comfortable situation for both him and his partner while never being too brash nor too nervous.

the serene, dimly lit surrounding followed by the soft blue hue of the water provided for an instant relaxation upon y/n and akaashi. the two walked hand in hand as they explored the aquarium, looking at all the cute fishies and rest of the sea animals. y/n always had a keen interest in these type of exhibits. the ocean was always intriguing to them and they made this well known.

akaashi took this opportunity to bring them to a nice aquarium in tokyo. it was small, but that didn't matter. akaashi was okay with anything as long as they were there too. “are you having fun?” he asked them softly. their eyes were practically stars as they continued to observe every corner of the aquarium, and he couldn't fight the small smile that stretched onto his face.

his question goes unheard as y/n takes in the view of everything, running to the fish eye tank she spotted feets away. akaashi chuckled slightly as he followed closely behind them and eventually taking a seat beside them. “it's pretty, isn't it?” they murmured as they stared off into the tank, but akaashi's eyes never left their figure. “it's gorgeous.”

y/n turned to face him, and his cerulean eyes bore into theirs as he gazed at them lovingly. “what?” they asked. but akaashi said nothing and shook his head. he softly cupped their face and pulled them in as he leaned in to meet in a kiss. it was tender and slow but it was enough to show how much akaashi truly cared for them.

SUNA RINTARŌ

▪︎ another one that is extremely calm.

▪︎ similar to akaashi, i don't think he'd pre-plan. however, he'd do it more spontaneously. maybe his body reacts before his mind does while he presses his lips against yours.

▪︎ i think he'd also tease similarly to tsukishima, but a bit more dialed down.

suna crashed onto his bed as he kicked his shoes off and rested his forearm on his forehead, y/n also kicking off their shoes and crashing next to him. the pair had an extremely long and tiring day at school, and a nap was very much needed. they both turned on their sides to face each other, their eyes threatening to close.

“i'm so tired..” y/n mumbled. suna couldn't even utter a sentence, he simply nodded while his blinks slowly got longer and longer. he grabbed y/n by the waist and pulled them into his chest, tucking his face away in the crook of their neck. his hold on them tightens as he feels their small exhales on his neck. “so am i.” he finally spoke.

suna and y/n would always take naps together. but today was different. the stress suna had from volleyball practice and the one y/n had from studies, the two could go into hibernation right now and not wake up for months if they could. but it was impossible, so for now they just enjoyed the warm embrace of one another.

they both stretched and entangled their limbs together as they got ready to take a nap. y/n closed their eyes and was on the verge of slipping into slumber before they felt a small press against their lips. opening their eyes abruptly, they see suna staring back at them with a sly smirk on his face. “.. what was that?” they uttered with their eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

“a kiss silly,” suna teased. “you looked so cute i couldn't help myself.” the two just stared at each other, blinking slowly waiting for the other to say something. “why?” they asked confused. it was such a random place to have their first kiss. but suna simply shrugged. “i don't know.” he answered.

“..wanna do it again?”

“sure.”

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

▪︎ this man will be straight up and not hesitate.

▪︎ i think iwa would be more abrupt. like you guys would just be talking and all of a sudden he's smashing his lips onto yours. he wouldn't doing it harshly though. in a very firm but gentle way.

▪︎ he'd do it based on his gus instinct. if he felt that it was the right place and time to have your guys’ first kiss, then it's right.

(pretend they won to go to nationals lol)

the gymnasium boomed with thunderous cheers and claps as the final blow of the whistle sounded. aoba johsai had made it to nationals. as the team came to embrace each other on the court, iwaizumi scanned the crowd, looking for that one familiar face. as they made eye contact, he could see y/n standing there looking down at him with a bright smile on their face as they screamed joyously.

5 minutes later, the team exits through the doors of the gym to the hallway, and iwazumi is met with the sight of his partner standing right in front of him with open arms. he rushed over to them, grabbing them by their thighs and lifting them in the air as y/n squealed in surprise. “i'm so proud of you!” they praised.

iwaizumi put them down and hugged them tightly while breathing heavily, still out of breath from the intense match not long ago. his face was tucked securely into the crook of their neck as he swayed them both side to side. “thank you.” he murmured into the skin. y/n couldn't fight the tears welling up in their eyes as the amount of pride they held in their boyfriend was too much.

but before they could react, iwaizumi was pulling away and smashing his lips into theirs, y/n letting out a surprised squeal before melting away in the kiss. his calloused hands caressed their face as he poured all of his passion into it.

KUROO TETSURŌ

▪︎ he would be extremely confident during the first kiss.

▪︎ kuroo is calculated. this helps with his self-assurance and the way he initiates/reacts during the kiss. he would start off by lightly teasing his partner before initiating the kiss.

▪︎ he is also highly observant, and is able to read his s/o's body language in the same way akaashi does.

a first date at the science museum seemed like an odd pick. but for kuroo and y/n there couldn't be anything more perfect. as the two walk hand in hand, they both drag each other to different parts of the exhibit and list off random facts that weren't listed on the descriptions.

“it's fascinating, isn't it?” kuroo said. he was intrigued with the 3D model of kinetic energy that was presented in front of him. y/n couldn't help but admire how eager their boyfriend was. both of them had an interest in science, but kuroo's beat hers by a long shot.

they couldn't help but trail their eyes over his face, taking in the smaller details. like the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes, the way his eyes sparkled when he was doing something he liked, everything was admirable. and his lips slightly glistened and they couldn't help but wonder what his lips would feel like on theirs.

kuroo noticed this, of course. how could he not? he couldn't ignore the feeling of their eyes on the side of his face and the way they'd fiddle with their fingers as they continued to observe every inch of his face except for the views in front of them. if it was anyone else, he would've been annoyed. but y/n? he found it endearing. kuroo turned to her and chuckled as they tensed when he caught them staring. “do you want to kiss me?” he asked abruptly, teasing them softly.

their eyes widen as their muscles tense up, stuttering out mutters explaining how they weren't staring but kuroo didn't buy it. he continued to tease them as he stepped closer, grabbing the back of their softly without them even noticing. kuroo connected their lips, blurring out their surroundings. in his mind, it was just him and his lover sharing their first of many more.

©lookingforuravity 2024 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

She's My Kid | Wooyoung

- Pairing: step-dad!Wooyoung x Mum!Reader

- Requested by: requested by @starsfly01091711

- Synopsis: Part two of Chosen Appa. Hannie's biological father tries to come back into the picture.

- Warnings: Mentions of asshole ex-husband and Hannie's biological dad, lawyers, custody. Sorry if this is a little angsty. I needed to write some angst.

- Word Count: 1,421

- Requests: open

Wooyoung Masterlist | ATEEZ Masterlist | Tag List Form

Y/N arrives home to find a large white envelope taped to her front door. A sinking feeling enters her stomach as she recognizes the stamp in the corner that belongs to her ex-husband's lawyer.  

She takes a deep breath, her fingers trembling slightly as she reaches for the envelope. a reminder of a past she had put behind her. Unlocking the door, she carries the envelope, a bag of groceries and the baby carrier inside. She leaves the bag of food and envelope on the kitchen counter, unable to bring herself to open it just yet and tends to Hye-young, her and Wooyoung's three-month-old daughter. Once she's settled in her crib in the corner of the living room, she makes her way back into the kitchen to put away the food she brought. 

Stealing glances at the envelope, her stomach and heart feel heavy. She can only think of one reason why her ex-husband is reaching out to her after all this time. It’s been 5 years since she’s heard anything from him. Five years since he left her for his mistress and five years since he abandoned Hannie, completely cutting his own daughter out of his life for a woman and child that probably wasn’t even his. Y/N is no longer angry at him or hurt that he divorced her. She was able to find love again after all. It was Hannie that her heart breaks for. She understands the pain it brings not having your own biological father love you enough to stick around. Y/N knows that pain all too well.   

But just like when she was a child, there's a man who stood into the father role as if they were born for it. Someone who loves her more than himself and she calls him dad. Wooyoung didn’t have to, he keeps reminding her that he knows he didn’t have to. He wanted to.  

Instead of opening it, she pours herself a glass of water and sits at the kitchen table, glancing at the clock. Wooyoung is due home with Hannie any moment now. It's his day to pick the now six year old up from school. Not even a second later, the familiar sound of the keypad lock unlocking is heard.  

“Eomma! I’m home!” Hannie calls out, bursting through the front door with Wooyoung right behind her. 

Y/N’s heart swells as she watches Wooyoung crouch down to help Hannie remove her shoes. Once her shoes are off, she makes a beeline for her mum, climbing into her lap and giving her tight hug, not knowing that it's what Y/N needs the most right now.  

“Did you have a good day?” she asks, moving a strand of hair out of her daughter's face when she pulls back from the hug. 

Hannie nods. "Miss Lee made sticker packs for everyone and said we can use them on our new project," she excitedly tells her mum. 

Y/N smiles at Hannie's enthusiasm, feeling the warmth of her daughter's joy wash over her like a comforting blanket. “That sounds amazing! What’s the project about?” she asks, hoping to keep the conversation light and cheerful.  

“It’s about animals!” Hannie exclaims. “I wanted to do mine on penguins, but Yuri got the penguin sticker pack, so I chose squ-squ-," she continues trying to pronounce squirrel but ultimately gives up and says, "Uncle Joong because he's one of those.” 

"I'm sure Uncle Joong will feel honoured you chose the squirrel," Y/N chuckles lightly. "Go put your bag away and I'll make you something to eat," she kindly orders her daughter, helping her off her lap. She watches as Hannie picks up her bag and takes it into her bedroom. 

"Are you okay?" Wooyoung asks his wife as soon as Hannie is out of the room. He knew something was wrong the moment he walked inside. The look in her eyes when she put on a smile for Hannie only confirmed that something wasn't right.  

She stands up and makes her way to the kitchen counter, picking up the envelope and handing it to him. "I haven't brought myself to open it yet." 

Wooyoung takes it from her, looking at the fancy law firm stamp in the corner. Wooyoung’s brow furrows as he examines the envelope, his fingers brushing over the smooth surface. “This is from your ex-husband’s lawyer?” he asks, his voice low and careful, as if afraid that Hannie will overhear them. Y/N nods, a lump forming in her throat. "Do you want me to open it?" 

She nods again. 

Wooyoung tears open the envelope and pulls out the letter inside. His eyes quickly scan the words on the page, his own heart sinking. "He's applying for custody," he tells her.  

Y/N feels the world around her tilt on its axis as Wooyoung's words sink in. "Custody?" she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper. Even though this is what she was expecting, it being the only reason why her ex-husband and Hannie's biological father would reach out now, it's still surprising. 

Wooyoung looks up from the letter, his expression one of fierce protectiveness. “He hasn’t been in her life since she was a baby, Y/N. What does he think he can just waltz back in and—” 

“Wooyoung,” she interrupts gently, placing a hand on his arm to calm him. “I know. I feel the same way.” Her mind races with memories of how hard she fought to create a loving home for Hannie after everything fell apart. “But, biologically-.” 

“I don’t care about biology,” Wooyoung says, frustration creeping into his voice. “She's my kid... our kid.” 

“I know,” Y/N replies softly, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "He's a complete stranger to her but the courts won't see it that way." 

Wooyoung runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his face. “We need to fight this,” he says, determination igniting in his eyes. “I’m not going to let him take her away from us.” 

“I know,” Wooyoung replies gently as he tries to calm himself down, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around Y/N's waist. He pulls her against him, grounding them both amidst the storm brewing inside their hearts. “But we can’t let him just walk back in and claim what he hasn’t wanted for years.” 

Y/N leans into Wooyoung’s warmth, drawing strength from his unwavering support. “You’re right,” she murmurs softly, looking up at him with gratitude shining in her eyes. “But… it’s just hard to think about what this could mean for Hannie if things go south. She's going to be so lost and confused.” 

"Maybe it's time we tell her everything, that way if it does go to court, she might be a little less confused," he suggests. 

“You’re right,” she concedes, pulling back enough to look at him. “But how do we even begin to explain all of this to her?” 

Wooyoung holds her gaze, his eyes filled with warmth and determination. “We’ll figure it out together," he assures her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

"Eomma, Appa, look what I made today," Hannie's sweet voice calls to them as she walks back into the kitchen. "Look it's you Appa and Eomma and me and Hye-youngie and our cat," she exclaims, holding up a drawing of her little family with a little cat next to them. 

Wooyoung tries to blink back the tears hearing her call him Appa. “Wow!” he exclaims, leaning forward to get a better look. “Is that us?”  

“Yes!” she beams, her face lighting up with pride. “And that’s our kitten,” she adds, pointing to the little cat again.  It’s her latest attempt at trying to convince her parents to add a kitten to their family.  

Y/N smiles warmly as she moves to make Hannie her after-school snack. "But we don't have a kitten. 

“Can we get one? Please?” Hannie pleads, her big brown eyes sparkling with hope.  

Wooyoung chuckles softly, “I don’t see why we can’t.”  

Hannie’s eyes widen in delight, and she practically bounces in her seat. “Really?”  

“But you’ll have to help with taking care of him or her. That means helping with feeding the kitten, cleaning out the dirt box, making sure there’s plenty of water and all that comes with having a cat,” Y/N tells her, letting her know that since she wants a kitten, she will also be responsible for the tiny creature.  

“I promise!” Hannie exclaims, her excitement bubbling over.   

Wooyoung smiles, “That’s sorted then. We’ll start looking for a kitten this weekend.” 

@carattinymoa - @ateezswonderland - @forever-atiny - @choppedballoondetective - @rainyday-daydreamer 

@ultrapinkvoidbouquet - @reiofsuns2001 - @alexxavicry - @hollxe1 - @bookswillfindyouaway

@http-gyu - @deltamoon666 - @astuteataraxy - @everythingboutkpop - @jaymiwrld

@life-is-a-game-of-thrones - @carattinymoakpopficrecs - @kpopdramaficrecs - @nochelunaxx

[messenger-of-babel]

Home is Where the Heart is

Summary: You could never tell what Jason was thinking, and this particular night he has a lot on his mind. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.0K

Notes: Mini vent- had a bad day and this week has been really tough so I’m changing up the layout of today as well so I could put out a fic that was a little easier on my mind (I always need to have more pep in my step when I write for my lanterns idk why haha. So sorry Kyle my baby I want to do you justice so you're on backburner). It was indeed written to Ed Sheeran on loop cause I needed to lock in fr. ❤️❤️

Enjoy Lovelies~! xx

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When Jason looked at you, you often wondered what he was thinking.

What was passing through his mind that made his irises gleam that brilliant shade of emerald or let the natural curve of his smile adored his face. However, every time that you asked he just blew his hair from his eyes gruffly, but let the smile stay. "That's a secret," he'd say before his hand would pull you to kiss side and he'd press a soft kiss on your forehead.

It was a little known fact that the Red Hood was in fact Jason Todd, but it was known to even less that Jason Todd was actually a romantic at heart. Sure, he had a mouth on him, and he was on the receiving end of your hand up the back of his head more often than he wasn't. But he was also the quiet kind of clingy, the kind that would never ask to hug you or initiate contact, but would stay up so he could have your back pressed against his chest the second you slipped into bed. He'd laugh when you brushed the hair out of his eyes, the scar on the corner of his mouth unable to stop his boyish grin. It was those moments in your kitchen that made you think that maybe, just maybe, your life was all normal.

You knew it wasn't.

When your fingers brush against his forehead you know that the white tuft in his hair was a painful reminder of his death, the scar on his lips you so lovingly kissed caused by the very man who had killed him. His hands were littered with small scars from blocking knives and protecting his head from glass instead of childhood memories of climbing trees. His back was a canvas of white slashes that intersected in a map-like pattern, a surface already so touched that the symmetrical red lines you left seemed less stunning in comparison. Legs sporting burn marks, bruises permanent along his ribs; that was the Jason that you knew. So even if some days you pretended that he was some ordinary civilian like yourself, you still loved Jason with all your heart.

On this particular night he had come home from patrol, sitting on the kitchen counter while you patched him up. You had been a pretty awful field doctor the first time you offered, but he braved through your prods and pokes with a wince. He didn't say anything about the way you wrapped the bandages too loosely or that you had forgotten some antiseptic and had given the wrong type of topical painkiller. Jason could see the worry on your face, so he leant forward and kissed your forehead tiredly, thanking you with a soft murmur.

You didn't need to know when he slunk off the bathroom to rewrap the bandages, or when he reapplied ointment in the right area. He picked glass out of his own skin when you missed some, letting the shards clatter down the sink. All that consumed him was the thought of how soft you were when you handled him, when you passed the bandage around his middle, or when you tried to clean the wound with as little antiseptic as possible to try and prevent the stinging. He normally hated having to doctor himself up, meaning that even the smallest of injuries tended to scar under his negligence. Yet with you he had been ashamed of the scars, hyper aware of how your eyes lingered on them. More so, how other people stared at them when you were out together. So, for months he spent nights in the bathroom redoing the handiwork you insisted so passionately on learning, just so that there wouldn't be a scar you could blame yourself for later.

You were absolutely perfect, so there was no reason that he couldn't be for you too.

You had become better though, and that was through the help of Alfred. Now you had patched him up efficiently and tightly, patting his hip affectionately when you pull the bandage tight. "Almost done," you smile up at him, fingers pulling the end of the bandage tight and reaching for a bandage clip. "Just got to secure it and you'll be good to go."

He smiles and drops a tired kiss to your skin as usual, pulling your fingers away when you’re done so he can raise them to his lips. "Thanks, darl." he grins, eyes tired but grin still lively as ever. He slides off the counter to wrap his hands around your waist, kissing your nose. You just huff and give him a side glance, arms circling his neck without hesitation.

"What's got you all worked up?" you ask with a light laugh when he’s overly affectionate with you, making Jason groan and drop his head into your hair.

"Just tired." he mumbles. "Bruce pissed me off again today, started lecturing me on the way home."

"Bruce pisses you off most days." you chide. "How did you ever escape the lecture?" you chuckle, moving with him as he begins to sway.

"I turned the commlink off and came up through Southside Gotham so he couldn't follow me." he grins.

There it was.

"There's always something with you, isn't there?" you shake your head, beginning to spin around with him softly in the candlelight. He laughs, and you imagine it’s the sound of a young boy finally getting to live life normally again.

"Always is, babe. you know me." he chuckles, and his eyes flutter over to the candles you have on the counter. It was always dark when he came home normally, and in his tired state he hadn't questioned it. After all, his family worked best in the dark.

"Power outage at the moment?" he asks.

"Power got cut off." you murmur back with a sigh. "We missed last payment. Only a few days, but you know how quick they jump on those these in Gotham. It's all paid up now, but it'll take a day or two to get back. Cold things from the freezer are in the washing machine with the ice blocks."

He hums, stroking a hand up and down your back. "You're well prepared. Sorry for making you deal with them, I'll handle it next time, I promise."

Jason hated using Bruce's money.

Not only was it something that sat bitter in his mouth ever since he had come back, but he didn’t need it. Dick had also rejected it and moved to Bludhaven, and even though he'd never admit it, Jason respected the way he managed to build a home for himself there. He wanted to do that too, and he could do it damn well by himself. He still took some money, but it was no more than a wage from Bruce. He considered protecting Gotham his job, and he wasn't stupid. He wasn’t going to let his pride get in the way of helping you both live. He hated to see you stress about finances, but you never asked him. You never asked him to reach out to Bruce for more or reach out to Bruce yourself.

The first time rent had gone up it had nearly priced the both of you out of the cozy apartment you lived in, and you had been in tears for days trying to find a second job to cover the expenses. Yet you didn’t come begging for Bruce's assistance, no. You looked at him with those teary eyes and asked him to help make a budget with you so you could figure a way out, and you did. You were the most resilient person he knew, the most resilient person he loved.

He held you closer as he spun you softly around the kitchen.

You were going to need to be resilient.

He inhaled the scent of your shampoo and let his arms bask in the warmth of you. Your skin against his made the thrumming in his side ease and the headache blistering behind his eyes subside. As you relaxed against him, his head raced of all the ways that he could tell you. Tell the most perfect being that had ever walked into your life that he was leaving, and not only that, he was going to have to break your heart on the way out.

He cursed Bruce. He cursed Bruce for making enemies that had cunning greater than his own, for dragging him into the mess he had created. He had yelled and spat and screamed at the older man until his voice resonated off the cave walls, storming from the cave after tonight's fight. Bruce had asked the impossible of him, after they both got their asses handed to them in a surprise attack. They had taunted Bruce, not the Batman, and had enough evidence to bring Bruce's world and carefully hidden persona crumbling down around him. It just so happened that they had enough to bring Jason's down as well.

They knew about you.

Pictures of you had fluttered down towards him, filling him with an indescribable sense of fear. As hard as they fought, they had let the new visitor of Gotham's nightlife slip through their fingers and Bruce had asked him to break up with you not a second later. There was no empathy, there was no kindness or waiting for it to sink in for him.

But there never was.

In that moment Bruce was Batman, but Red Hood had been the scared Jason Todd.

How did he tell you that he wanted to break up when that was the furthest thing from the truth? That he would walk through hell barefoot and dunk himself in the Lazarus pit again if that mean that you were still there to warm his bed at night? How could he tell you that he didn't love you when his heart ached to tell you it every time he got the courage? He could play the tears, play the part of a sad breakup. That part was easy, considering how this was shaping to be one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. It was the rage that he couldn't muster, for once. Rage was something that he saved for the streets, a place already so crime ridden and scummy that his bitterness and anger were practically masked under the filth. It wasn't a place for your home, the little shelter the both of you had carved out of Gotham with your own two hands.

So, he spun you around the room, eyes watering with tears yet to shed as he thought about how to let you go. He knew you wanted to stay, and that made his heart ache in return. It was like losing a part of him that hadn't even been lost yet, a void already forming in his chest. He sniffled lightly and thankfully you didn’t hear or notice his arms squeezing tighter, as if to imprint the feeling of you against his body. He tried to tell himself it was only a temporary thing, that he could explain it all to you later when the threat was done. That thought often lost against the conjured image of your heartbroken eyes his mind created to torture him, and the persistent thought that you'd probably never want to see him again when he was about to break your heart so violently.

You don't notice something is wrong until the first tear hits your hair, silently giving way to more. You notice the slight shake in his arms and the tension still wound in his body. Normally the stiffness in his muscles flowed out of him like water when he stepped over the threshold of the house, but not tonight.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask softly, pressing into him to try and comfort him, your heart panging in confusion at his strange behaviour.

Jason would never tell you, but when he looked at you he wondered what the rest of your life together would look like, and if you'd ever considering changing your name to 'Todd'.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

the alchemy | v. the confession

pairing: no outbreak!dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel find peace after a hard day, but it doesn’t stay that way for long.

chapter rating: E (18+ only, MINORS DNI, dbf/secret relationship, age gap (joel is 34, reader is 24), unprotected piv, joel has a filthy mouth, appearance of this man’s obvious breeding kink, angst to end it all--may contain some typos but i can’t be bothered to check)

wc: 4.4k

series masterlist | previous chapter

The waiting room of the doctor’s office you were interviewing at for a temp job as an administrative assistant while you awaited replies from more long-term positions was bleak and empty. The cold space was bright with overhead fluorescent lighting, the soft hum of a court TV show pairing horribly with the soft clacks of the receptionist’s keyboard. It was the perfect recipe for a headache, if your earlier conversation with your father hadn’t already given you one. 

He’d been on your ass about keeping up with your chores, and though you admittedly had fallen behind on your end of the bargain, it wasn’t like you could tell him why you’d been too busy to chip in lately. 

I’ve been busy falling in love with your good friend, dad didn’t seem like a good way to get yourself back into his good graces. 

So, instead of prepping for your interview, you passive-aggressively tended to the sink full of dishes, only for him to switch gears and gripe that he didn’t mean you had to do them then and there. 

Just another reason why you needed to start earning some money of your own so that you could find a small place and put some much needed distance between you and your father. 

When the doctor and owner of the small practice finally called you back—twenty minutes past your agreed upon time—your head was pounding. If you hadn’t been so desperate to land a job, you might’ve slipped out at the five minute mark, but as it stood, you needed to see this shitty interview through. 

For your sanity. 

For some privacy. 

For the potential to not have to sneak out every night just to see Joel. 

JOEL

It had been a long fucking day. 

Between the incessant ache in his lower back from yesterday’s job putting up drywall and the shipment of tile for his latest contract—a suburban couple’s renovation of their first home together—arriving cracked, he was desperate to get home and doze away on the couch with a cold beer. 

Sarah was off at her friend’s house for the night, which meant he had the night to himself—unless you were able to sneak over and offer him some much welcomed company for the night. 

But he wasn’t counting on that fact, not when your dad had been there to watch Sarah pack her overnight bag into Mrs. Jacobs’ silver minivan earlier that morning. 

It didn’t stop him from hoping, nonetheless. 

As he pulled his pickup into his driveway, Joel was surprised to find the exact person he’d been hoping to see sitting on the front step of his place. He hopped out of the truck with a newfound purpose and tried to tame the boyish grin creeping onto his face as he took you in. You looked more corporate than you usually did, a pair of slacks and a button-down blouse taking the place of your usual t-shirt and jeans, but you looked no less beautiful than you always did. A natural, effortless thing that had every nerve in his body alight with the need to get his hands on you. 

“Hey,” you greeted him, a small smile lifting one corner of that mouth he loved so much. 

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked, scanning the cul de sac as he stepped up onto his porch. “Dressed to impress, I see.”

You huffed out a small laugh and rolled your eyes as you stood, keeping a bit of distance between the two of you in case anyone happened to be watching. A fact that he loathed with every bone in his body. 

“My key broke off in the front door,” you sighed, leaning against the wooden beam beside you. “My dad’s not going to be home until late tonight, and I didn’t feel like breaking in. Decided I’d slum it here until you got home.”

He stepped closer to you, his hand twitching with the urge to stroke his thumb over your cheek in hopes of turning your frown into one of those smiles he loved so much. “Need me to break in for ya?”

“You could,” you said, biting at your lip as you stared down at your nails. “Or we could go inside and you can help me forget about the shitty interview I just had.”

It was Joel’s turn to frown, despite the twitch he felt downstairs at the implication in your tone. “Didn’t get the job?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” you scoffed. “I don’t want it, though. The doctor was a total dick. Made some joke about finally having someone pretty behind the desk to greet him in the morning. I’d rather be broke and unemployed than have to work with that bullshit.”

“Want me to kick his ass?” Joel asked, reveling in the laugh his words earned. 

“No.” You smiled, lifting your eyes to meet his as the tip of your tongue slid out to wet your bottom lip. “I have better stuff in mind for you.”

Joel’s brown arched, a smirk lighting up his face. “Oh, yeah? And what might that be, darlin’?”

“Let me in and I’ll show you.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

As soon as Joel shut and locked the door behind him, you were pressing him against the wall. 

Your lips found his ungracefully, but he didn’t seem to mind as he kissed you back with just as much unbridled need. It had been too long—three days now—since you’d gotten the chance to be truly alone with him. With Sarah at the house, the two of you had to be discreet and silent, and while it never hindered the pleasure you brought each other, it certainly dampened a bit of this passion you’d been yearning to feel. 

Joel groaned as he slipped his hands over your hips to squeeze your ass through your trousers, pressing you tighter to his body. You bit at his lower lip and let your own hands travel, one to the nape of his neck and one down to palm at the bulge imprisoned by his jeans. 

“Missed you all day, baby,” he said, his voice thick with desire as he guided you backwards towards the couch. “Couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

“Tell me what you were thinking about,” you panted, straddling his lap as he sat down and pulled you with him. 

“Thought about the way you looked when you were ridin’ me a couple nights ago,” he said, nipping at your jawline. “How you had to cover your mouth to keep quiet. Fuck, I got hard just thinkin’ about the sounds you make. Been too goddamn long since I heard ‘em. You gonna let me hear ‘em today, baby?”

“Fuck, yeah,” you moaned, grinding yourself against him as he started to unbutton your blouse, kissing each bit of skin he exposed along the way. 

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praised, lathing his tongue over the swell of your breast as it sat pushed up by your bra. He peeled your shirt off your body and tossed it across the room before settling his big, warm hands on your waist, smoothing his rough palms across your smooth skin. “Wanna hear every fuckin’ thing.” 

Your back arched as he lowered his mouth to your breast, kissing and nipping at you through the thin lace of your bra. With a skilled flick of his fingers behind your back, he had the bra unclasped and discarded on the floor along with your shirt, the cool air around you stiffening your nipples into sensitive peaks. He groaned as he palmed one of your breasts in his hand, his thumb stroking over the sensitive bud as he slowly lifted his eyes back to yours to watch your face crumple a bit with pleasure. 

“You’re fuckin’ perfect, baby,” he whispered, shaking his head at you in reverence as he lowered his mouth to your nipple, kissing it softly. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

“Fuck, Joel,” you moaned, holding his head against your breast as he swirled and sucked at the bud before kissing his way over to the other. ”I need you inside me.”

Joel’s hands gripped you harder, pulling you closer. “Take me out and sit on it, then, honey. I ain’t stoppin’ what I’m doin’.” 

Your limbs felt heavy and clumsy as you dropped your hands to his lap, as if you were drunk off Joel’s voice alone. You fumbled with his belt and the button of his jeans, undoing both with little grace as you scrambled to access the hard thickness straining beneath its rigid denim confines. Joel, meanwhile, hadn’t stopped lavishing your sensitive nipples with attention, alternating from sucking to nibbling to flicking at them with the tip of his tongue, all while his big hands restlessly stroked up and down the planes of your back. 

“Stand up so I can take these off,” he ordered, tugging at the belt loops of your trousers. You obeyed immediately, letting him undo the button and slip your slacks and underwear off in one smooth motion before he shed himself of his own clothes, leaving him bare and beautiful in front of you. Joel was smiling as he tapped his lap with one hand and held your hip with the other. “Sit.” 

You let out a soft keening sound at the rough, inviting tone of his voice, obeying once again. Joel watched your face as you straddled his lap, his eyes round with reverence and lips parting at the feeling of your soft palm wrapping around his pulsing girth. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, biting his lip as his eyes fell to watch your hand pump him. “You got any idea what you do t’me, baby? Any fuckin’ clue how good y’feel?”

You replied with a hiss of your own as you flicked the tip of him along your seam, paying special attention to your swollen bundle of nerves. “Do you?”

Joel smiled for a half-second before his face crumpled into something dark and needy and absolutely sinful as you lined him up at your entrance, sinking down just enough to have his fat head inside you. He groaned at the tightness there, and you sighed at the delicious stretch of him making himself at home in the most precious of places. 

“Always so tight,” he whispered, lifting his hands to your face as he pulled you down to him for a searing kiss. “So fuckin’ wet. Best fuckin’ pussy in the world.”

You smiled into the kiss and sank down further, relishing in the choked moan you tore from his chest. “And it belongs to you, Joel.”

“Shit,” he groaned, tossing his head back against the couch, giving you the perfect chance to press your lips against his pulse. Joel’s hands splayed across your hips, keeping you flush with his body for a moment while he gained his composure. “Tell me again.”

You grinded yourself against him, your clit rubbing against the patch of hair at his base and sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. “My pussy’s all yours, Joel.”

He growled, lifting your hips just to drive his own forward, drilling in deep. “Again.”

You let out a cry, fingers leaving crescent moons in the meat of his shoulders as his head found that spot deep inside you with every rough thrust upwards. “You own me, Joel.”

“Own what?,” he growled, using your body as a toy as he plunged deep over and over and over. Your face was buried in the nook of his neck as you held onto his broad frame, breathing in the scent of sawdust and warm cologne and sweat—so masculine, so distinctly Joel. 

“You own my pussy,” you cried, meeting his thrusts in harsh bounces, the room filling with the lewd slap of your ass meeting his thighs. “You own every fucking part of me, baby.” 

Joel’s hand came down onto your ass with a sharp sting, the pain blending with pleasure and driving you closer to that delicious edge. “Good fuckin’ girl. This pussy’s all mine. You’re all fuckin’ mine, ain’t ya?” 

“Fuck, yes!” You rode him without care of how you looked while doing it. It was animalistic and primal the way you needed him, the way your body reacted to even the slightest of touches. Joel shared that same inhibition, hands gripping and roaming and mouth spewing with filth. 

“Wanna carve my name into this fuckin’ pussy and make it mine forever. Put a fuckin’ baby in you,” he groaned, his lips pressing against the shell of your ear as the two of you worked in tandem to achieve pure bliss. His words had you clenching, even when you hadn’t expected to want or like them as much as you did. “That what you want, baby? Want me to fuck my cum nice and deep ‘til it takes?”

“Fuck, yes!” you cried, your walls squeezing him like a vice grip. “Wanna have your baby, Joel!”

He growled, using one hand at the base of your neck to pull your face from his shoulder so that he could look into your eyes. “So fuckin’ beautiful, honey. You’d look so goddamn pretty with my baby inside you.”

“Fuck, Joel, I’m so close,” you moaned, face wrecked with pleasure as you leaned back on his lap, your hands perched on his thighs for leverage. Joel growled at the change in position, at the sight of your body sprawled out on top of him, at the bounce of your breasts in his eyeline. 

“I’m gonna cum nice and deep,” he said, biting his bottom lip as he lowered his thumb to your clit, working it in perfect circles. “Gonna make you a mess and then clean it up with my tongue. S’that what you want?”

“Please,” you cried, too fucked out to say anything better. 

“Gonna taste us together ‘til you beg me to stop,” he said, his own voice now shaky and rough as he approached his release. “Fuck, baby. I need you t’cum for me. I’m too fuckin’ close.”

You didn’t need any more motivation, your body seizing up and crumbling on top of him with the weight of your climax. Joel gathered you in his arms and held you close to his chest, pressing kisses against your temple as he buried himself deep and let you have every last drop of his release. 

“Take it,” he murmured, fucking his cum deep into your pussy. “Take what’s yours, darlin’.”

“Jesus,” you sighed, circling your hips against his as your climax faded to a warm, tingling thing. ”You’re too fucking good at this.”

Joel laughed, soft and breathy, as he smoothed a hand up and down your back before letting it settle on your ass with a gentle squeeze. “Fuck, I love the shit out of you, you know that?” 

You froze, not out of fear or panic, but just the sheer surprise of such a confession falling so casually from his lips. Joel seemed to realize it too, as his hand stilled in its ministrations across your heated skin. 

“We can pretend I didn’t say that, if y’want,” Joel said, sounding much too shy and insecure for your taste. 

You sat up enough to look at him, watching as he avoided your stare like a nervous little boy. 

“Look at me, you beautiful man.” He obliged, carefully lifting his eyes to meet yours. You held his face in your hands, guiding him to your lips for three gentle, loving pecks. “I don’t want to pretend. I…love you, too. Fuck, I think I’ve always loved you, Joel.”

Joel’s smile dawned again, washing away every trace of hesitation that lingered before. He leaned in to kiss you again, this time slow and languid as if he’d be content to do this for the rest of his life. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this…happy. This settled before. Just want you t’know that.”

“Neither have I,” you murmured, your lips refusing to move too far from his. 

JOEL

You stayed with him later than you probably should’ve. The afternoon light had faded into evening, but neither of you paid any mind to the passing of time. You fell asleep shortly after he fulfilled his promise of cleaning you up with his tongue, your face buried in the nook of his neck as he dozed with you on the sofa. 

He woke up before you, eager to take his time in watching you sleep beside him. It had become a favorite pastime of his in the short month the two of you had spent together, waking up before you just to watch you breathe. He’d never felt this way in any of his previous relationships, so enamored and in love with a person, even in their most base state. It had always been a sort of begrudging kind of love with his exes, as if there was a large part of his biology that rejected their company for one reason or the next. He mostly just felt out of place in their company, like living with a stranger or a roommate that he fucked every now and again. 

But there wasn’t a single part of him that felt that way about you. He loved every bit of you—the woman you showed him when you were awake, kind and thoughtful and determined, and the woman he held close when you were fast asleep, all soft curves and warm skin. Even Sarah seemed to accept you as a natural addition to their family, far more than she ever did with her own mother. That fact carried more weight than you knew, or perhaps you were keenly aware of the way they both felt for you and simply chose to accept it in stride. Either way, it was endearing. 

He was just about to wake you up to thank you for existing here with him—with them—in the best way he knew how when a series of hurried knocks sounded on his front door. He’d saw the headlights of your father’s SUV pull into the driveway next door, and given your absence at home, he had no doubt that he would’ve strolled over, worried as all hell. 

Joel gently coaxed you awake with a thumb brushing over your face, feeling a bit irritated that he had to interrupt your peace. Especially given the circumstance. 

“Your dad’s at the door, baby,” he said, his voice gentle but urging. You bolted upright at the news, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes as you scanned the room. “Go upstairs and I’ll send him back home.”

You muttered a sleepy okay, grabbed your clothes from the floor, and hurried upstairs to his bedroom while Joel threw on his own clothes and tried to look half-presentable. As if he hadn’t just spent the afternoon inside you. 

When things looked to be back in order, he finally marched to the door and opened it, revealing your disheveled looking father. “Hey, everything alright?”

“Have you seen my daughter?” he asked, breezing past Joel and into the half-lit living room. 

“No,” Joel lied, rubbing the back of his neck as he spotted your underwear halfway beneath the couch that you must’ve missed when fumbling for your clothes in the dark. “You wanna grab a couple beers and tell me what’s got you so riled up?”

Your father headed into the kitchen with a soft grunt, allowing Joel the opportunity to stuff your panties in his back pocket before taking a seat on the sofa. When he returned, he let out a sigh and settled into the recliner, combing a hand over his face. 

“She isn’t home,” he said, pausing to take a sip of his beer. “She usually sends me a text when she’s gonna be out late.”

“She probably just forgot,” Joel said, his knee bouncing with anxiety. Lying had never come easy to him, but if there was any time to learn, it was now. “You tried textin’ her?”

“Yeah, nothin’,” he said, shaking his head. “I feel like she’s hiding something from me. A boyfriend, maybe. I’ve kept quiet about it, but I’ve heard her sneakin’ out in the dead of night. Her car always stays here, though, so she must be gettin’ picked up.” He fixed his attention on Joel. “You seen anything?”

Joel was quick to shake his head. A bit too quick. “No, I’m in bed early these days.”

“Well, keep an eye out if you can,” he said, ticking his jaw. “I’d like to know what she’s been up to. Makes no sense for her to hide things from me, but then again, it’s been a long time since we’ve been under the same roof like this.”

“She’s probably just settlin’ in, figurin’ things out,” Joel said, his fingers scratching at the label on his bottle. “No need to go and get yourself worked up over nothin’.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a sigh, downing the last of his beer. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Let me know if you hear anything.”

Joel stood to walk him to the door, only to watch as your father’s eyes landed on a familiar looking phone case laid face down on the coffee table. 

“That’s her phone,” he said, his eyes narrowing at the object before lifting to Joel’s. “What’s her phone doin’ here?”

Joel struggled to make up a lie, his lips parting and closing over and over. “I, uh…”

“Joel,” he said, his tone harsher than before. “What’s my daughter’s phone doing here?”

Your father stepped closer, squaring his shoulders as he sized up his newfound enemy. 

“I’m gonna give you two seconds to explain yourself before I go upstairs and take a look myself,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Listen—“

“Nope.” He shook his head, scoffing in anger as he turned to move towards the staircase. Joel rushed to block his path, setting a firm hand on his chest. “I suggest you move, Miller.”

“I suggest you don’t tell me what to do in my own house,” Joel said, his protective streak outweighing his anxiety. “You can either sit there and listen, or you can get the hell out. Either way, you ain’t goin’ upstairs.”

“You gonna stop me?” Your father stepped forward, daring Joel to make a move. He had half a mind to shove him back a step, but the sound of his bedroom door opening talked some much needed sense into him. 

“Dad, stop,” you pleaded, the sound breaking Joel’s heart. “I’ll be home in a second. We can talk about this in private.”

“There’s no way in hell this is happening,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he turned to pace the living room. “You’re sneakin’ around with my daughter? And lyin’ to my face about it? For what, some hookup? Some sick fantasy of yours?”

“Dad!” You pushed past Joel to stand in front of him protectively. “It’s not a hookup or anything like that. Joel and I are together. We’re serious about each other.”

“He’s a decade older than you!” he shouted back, causing Joel to take the lead. 

“She’s a grown woman,” Joel said. “Goddamn near twenty-five. You don’t think she’s old enough to make her own decisions yet?” 

“She wasn’t twenty-five when you met her,” he returned. 

“And I didn’t act on anything all that time,” Joel said.

“How long has this been goin’ on?” Your father turned to you, and Joel fought the urge to tell him to wipe the murderous look off his face. 

“A month or so,” you said, meek and timid. “We were going to tell you.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “Joel was just sitting there lying to my face about you just needing time to settle in. All the while, he’s been the one you’ve been sneaking off with.”

“We were waiting until we knew what was happening—“

“Well that went to shit, didn’t it?” he said, shaking his head. “You know what? You wanna sneak around and lie to me, you wanna play house with him, then you can stay here. I’m not having a liar sleep under my roof.”

“Dad!”

“No!” he shouted. “You didn’t care how this would hurt me before, you don’t get to cry about it now. I’m goin’ out. You’ve got an hour to get your shit and leave my house. And you—“ He turned his attention to Joel. “You’re never going to be welcomed under my roof again. You’re dead to me. I don’t want to see your face again, you hear me?”

Joel didn’t reply, simply clenching his jaw as he reached a hand out to welcome you into his side, your tears staining his t-shirt as you buried your face in his neck. 

“Fuckin’ sick,” your father said, stomping his way to the door and slamming it shut behind him. 

In the tense silence that followed, Joel wanted nothing more than to go over and teach your father a lesson on how not to speak to you, but he was too preoccupied with holding you as you shook with tears. 

“Baby,” he cooed, hugging you tight. “I’m so sorry. So fuckin’ sorry.”

“He was so…mean,” you sobbed, hugging him tight. “He’s never spoken to me like that. Like I wasn’t his daughter.”

“I know,” he murmured, smoothing his hand over your back. “I hate him for makin’ you cry like this.”

“I can’t believe…can’t believe this is real,” you said, peering up to look at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I was so happy just a few minutes ago.” 

Joel cradled your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “It’ll be alright. He’ll come around, and if he doesn’t…well, he can go fuck himself.”

You nodded, though no part of him thought you believed what he’d said. No, you’d be torn up over this for days. Weeks, even. But through it all, he’d be there. 

“Come on,” he said, holding your hand. “Let’s go get your things, and then we’ll come back, have a drink, and watch one of those romance movies you love so much until it hurts a little bit less, alright?”

You managed a soft, but broken smile and nodded. “Thank you for sticking up for me and being here. It’s more than most men would’ve done in your situation.”

“I love you,” he said, squeezing your hand. “That means I’m gonna always be here to stick up for you, alright? I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: two hearts, too good at breaking

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: this argument has been needing to happen for a while but an angry girlfriend and a closed off boyfriend are not a good mix…

warnings:

a/n: thanks for reading 💗💗

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @eternal--dream @shattered-glass-roses @book-nerd-emi

I spin around, anger has me in a chokehold contorted fingers wrapped tightly around my neck, I’m ready to burst, “is this what it’s going to be like?”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Grayson scoffs, with an expression that doesn’t betray any hint of emotion if he is feeling it.

Typical man with his typical habits. I wish for once he’d just show me that he at least cared about this. Us.

“Don’t twist this Grayson, don’t you dare,” I seethe, my eyes blazing with some sort of wildfire that would surely burn him alive, “don’t make me the problem.”

He leans back lazily, resting his weight on the counter, “I’ll be the problem then, that’s fine,” he shrugs nonchalantly, making me want to punch him even more than I already did.

How could he act so cool and collected? As if none of this was actually bothering him? How was it fair? I could feel tears prickling in the corners of my eyes and the lump wedged in my throat rapidly expanding. I don’t want to be this emotional, I don’t want him to know how much this is hurting me.

“No,” I reply coldly, abruptly.

I try to mirror him, pushing down all my own feeling and casting my mind to a blank state so that my feelings could not penetrate.

“Then what do you want?” he asks, a dead withered look flashing across his gray eyes.

I make a frustrated noise. So much for staying unbothered. My emotions tend to run riot with an odd reckless abandon, I couldn’t contain them no matter how hard I tried.

He’s twisting my words, playing with them like a well fed cat would a dead bird, “it’s not about what I want,” I hiss.

He raises an eyebrow sharply, “seems like it,” he deadpans.

“So you’re happy like this?” I snap, “this constant tension between us, the aching silences, avoiding this argument all the time?”

It had been going on for far too long now and I am too exhausted, drained with the weight of it all. He could shut it out, he could close off his feelings, he could easily stay unaffected through avoidance. But me? I’m not like that. Every tiny thing hit my heart with a tiny bullet, slowly bleeding it dry.

“You’re the one who created tension in the first place,” he replies with a snarl, a glimmer of anger seeping through his composure.

Good. At least I know there is something beneath his stupid defence mechanism, something that maybe even cared.

“No I didn’t,” I counter fiercely, “things got hard for you and you ran off alone and then came back and acted if nothing had even happened.”

“What do you want me to do, wallow?” he sneers, “did you want me to come home and cry in your arms? I have a life, I need to get on with it.”

“Oh thanks,” I laugh bitterly, running my fingers through the knots in my ponytail, “no what I wished you would’ve done was at least address that you’d gone, why you’d gone, how we were going to work things out, but you didn’t! You did nothing!”

“Why keep bringing up the parts of the past we want to forget?” he asks me, some sort of strain ripping across the middle of his sentence.

“Because you can’t just bury everything under the carpet,” I sigh, tired of the endless row of bulletproof walls he puts up to keep me out, “eventually it’s going to all be revealed.”

“So what you’re asking me to do is tell you every minor inconvenience in my life,” he states flatly, “as if discussing them will make them magically disappear.”

“I’m not asking for that,” I snap, before reeling my annoyance in for a moment, my voice softens, “I’m asking for you to trust me.”

We can’t keep on like this, it’s not healthy, it’s not right, it’s not normal.

“I do trust you,” he replies, without missing a beat.

It’s an instant reaction, a reflex but they’re still empty words. He wants to trust me, but he can’t. I can see it so clearly in those glossy gray eyes.

“It’s clear you don’t,” I reply, “you don’t tell me anything, you don’t talk about your feelings-“

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he tells me numbly.

My heart almost gives in to his blank face and deadened eyes. It hurts to see him so devoid of emotion, so empty. I wish sweet kisses and loving whispers could wash away all that was wrong, but I fear there’s too much for even the ocean to clean.

I shake my head, “you can’t play the hardcore card with me.”

“I’m not playing any card,” he snaps, his face contorts into a sour and twisted look, “my life isn’t a game.”

Idiot me, using a card comparison. It’s like rubbing salt in his open wounds and watching them marinate.

“I know it’s not,” I say gently.

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second before they iced over again. The bitter frost would take a lot more than a kind voice to thaw. He breathes deeply.

“I need to get out of here,” Grayson says, standing up to make a b-line for the door.

I lunge forwards and stand in front of him, arms folded. I look up at him, wide eyes pinning him into place. He stops, almost frozen and stares right back at me.

Of course he could’ve easily walked around me, lifted me up and moved me out of the way or simply just told me to stop. But he does nothing at all and continues staring dead at my face.

He doesn’t want to leave, not really.

“You’re not leaving again,” I tell him firmly, “you can’t just walk out when things get hard, that’s not how we work.”

He sighs and turns around, walking back to the kitchen. I follow. He leans against the counter top, arms folded. In any other situation I would’ve found this incredibly attractive.

“How do we work then?” he finally asks me, more quietly than he’d probably intended.

I look at him with tender eyes and say seven small words, “I need you to need me too.”

“I do need you,” he replies fiercely, a fire in his eyes reminding me of my own for a moment, something I couldn’t ignore.

He does care. He cares like I care.

“You don’t act like it,” I shake my head, biting my lip to stop the tears from spilling over.

And then something snaps and it’s not me this time.

“But I do!” he raises his voice, a desperate longing vibrating across his vocal chords, “you know I do!”

“No I don’t,” I explode, blinded by my own white hot anger, “you keep everything so bottled up!”

“I don’t,” the words are sharp and definitive, ending with a hard monotonous sound.

I groan in frustration, contemplating ripping my hair out, “why won’t you ever just let me all the way in?”

“I can’t,” he falters, maybe the first glimpse of the real him I’ve seen in this whole conversation.

He looks down at the floor, his head dipping down slightly. Grayson Hawthorne always held his head high. I’d broken him.

“Why can’t you,” I press on further, like a child still trying to play with a broken toy.

I know I shouldn’t push him, I know I’m being impatient but I have to know why. I’ve tried the patient route but it hasn’t worked.

My heart won’t beat for anyone else the way it beats for him. I love him too much to let this end over a miscommunication, we’ve been through too much to throw it all away. Whatever it is, we’ve always gotten through it, that’s how we work. I’m not letting go, even if he thinks he wants to.

“I just can’t,” he says to me, as if that explained it all.

An internal argument flickers across his face, his eyebrows draw themselves closer in the slightest of ways and I can see he’s biting the inside of his lip so hard I fear it might bleed.

“That’s not an answer Grayson,” I reply, not backing down, my rational thoughts are consumed by feeling, governed by pure heart and no head at all.

He runs a hand through his hair, all the way to the back of his neck, “I can’t do this.”

“What? This? This relationship?” I question trying not to let the fear creep into my voice.

“No, of course not,” he snaps with an eye roll, causing me to deepen my scowl, “why can’t you just accept that I can’t let you in?”

Oh if only it were that easy.

“Because,” I shout, “you’re meant to be able to trust me with everything and anything.”

“Well I don’t,” Grayson snaps back, his tone bitter like the cud, “I don’t trust anyone, don’t take it so personally.”

Tears spring back to my eyes, my voice quietens, “I’m not anyone.”

“No…” he exhales shakily, pausing for a while, “…you’re not.”

Silence engulfs us, its flames happily licking at our feet. I feel the weight of his gaze against mine, our eyes locked together in a trance. In the space of no words, too much is said.

He looks like he’s physically in pain. The dark circles rimmed under his eyes are bolder than ever, thick smears of black, like war paint. His cheeks seem hollower, his eyes less bright. Am I stealing his spark? Is this my doing? As if he can read me, like an open book, he shakes his head in the slightest of ways. If I’d blinked I might’ve missed it.

“You can’t keep doing what you’re doing,” I murmur hoarsely, unable to control my own voice, “it’s not fair on me and it’s not fair on you.”

He breathes out deeply, his voice low, almost husky, “some things are just too much, okay?”

“Nothing should be too much for love,” I say darkly, taking a step towards him.

He doesn’t back away but doesn’t move any closer to me. Again, he enters his paralysis. I dare to get closer still and then ever closer. I trail gentle hands up his arms, shoulders, then neck until finally they reach the sides of his face. I pull his towards me, so his forehead is pressed against mine. I can feel him breathing, the soft warm air tickling my face.

“I am here Grayson,” I whisper, a tears falling from each eye, spilling over only to roll down my cheek and land on his shirt, “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands find their way to my waist, his fingers tighten around it, knuckles going white.

“If I let you all the way in,” he chokes out, “you’ll see me for who I really am…” everything falls still, time itself stops, “…and everyone who has ever seen that part of me walks away.”

My heart twists, aching and throbbing in my chest.

“It’s not pretty sweetheart, it’s not pretty at all,” his voice shakes. It is soft, so vulnerable, so open.

He’s trying to show me he does trust me, he just doesn’t know how to let himself. The tenderness intertwined in his tone is enough to make me melt.

“And I don’t think I can afford to watch you walk away,” he shake his head, eyes glossy with tears, “I’m selfish like that my love, I don’t want you to leave.”

I shake my head, biting my lip to prevent a sob for escaping. You’re not selfish is what I want to tell him but I can’t formulate words. Tears freely pool down my cheeks and even Grayson lets one slip. It slowly trails down his cheek, leaving a glistening path behind it.

All the words I want to say get lodged in my throat, so I bring his face closer to mine still and let my lips do the talking.

His face is hot against mine, his hands feverishly cling to every inch of my body. The kiss tastes like a mixture of salt and passion and anger and fear and all of the feelings in between. I could feel his agony on my tongue like he could feel my fury.

I kiss him more roughly, not bothering to contemplate that either of us might need to draw back for breath. He needs this, I need this. Grayson’s hands find their way to my hair, clamping around large thick chunks of it, fingers getting lost and tangled between the strands. Not that either of us care. He’s craving me now more than ever, I can feel his mouth desperately crashing into mine. I bite his bottom lip gently and he a strange sort of sound escapes the back of his throat, something between pleasure and pain.

We continue until our lungs physically burn and force us to stop. I rest back, gulping in as much oxygen as I can. My lips tingle as my chest heaves up and down rapidly. My hands are almost shaky.

I look up to meet his gray eyes. His face is flushed and lips red raw. He looks more alive than I’d seen him in a while. He almost manages a smile, eyes hungrily grazing over my whole body.

He sighs, still out of breath, “what’s even wrong with the way we are now?”

“You’re seriously asking?” I ask. He stays silent. “We can’t just kiss and make up.”

“Why?” Grayson says, something pleading in his expression.

“You know why,” I falter, closing my eyes and massaging my temples, my head thumping all of a sudden.

“What is so bad that we can’t just leave our argument here and move on?” he asks me, something lighting up on his face, some false hope that I’ll soon be to one to crush.

I sigh, falling into a silence of my own. I usually have all the words to say. I still do, too many in fact so I take my time to choose carefully. He almost seems impatient for my answer.

“You don’t communicate,” I say softly, the truth harder said than I’d imagined.

He snarls at me, “I can’t communicate when you don’t say anything.”

“I’m saying everything now,” I tell him, more emotion pouring itself into my tone without being invited to, “but you’re refusing to hear me.”

I wonder if his lips miss mine as much as I miss his. I keep having to scold myself to not glance at them. If only this could all be solved with a kiss.

“I’m not refusing,” he presses on, his jaw tense, “I just don’t understand.”

“Okay maybe this’ll make it clearer,” I state simply, “you don’t get to shut me out.”

Bitter. Harsh. Cold. All the things I loathe coming out of my own mouth. It is the bluntest way I could’ve put things.

He shakes his head and chuckles darkly, “you say you understand me but you don’t, if you understood me you’d know that this is how I deal with pain.”

“That’s not healthy,” I bite back with a bold ferocity.

“It might not be healthy but it’s me,” he tells back, hitting his chest, “take it or leave it.”

“Neither,” I snap, folding my arms and standing my ground with a look of challenge written across my face.

He looks exhausted, “it can’t be all your way all of the time.”

I am exhausted too, “I’m asking you to open up to me,” I say, my throat sore and dry, “why is it so difficult?”

“It just is.”

“Look I’ve given you time Grayson,” I tell him desperation creeping up into my voice, another uninvited visitor, “I’ve done my waiting and I’ve given you space and I haven’t complained but it’s been years and it’s taking a toll, surely if you don’t feel at ease to open up to me now then you never will. I mean you talk to your brothers about everything, why do I know less than them? We’ve been together two years Grayson, two whole years!”

“And I knew Emily my whole life,” he practically growls, each word venomous, a poison spat into my face.

The taste of his lips sour in my mouth and my face immediately pales. I stop, freeze, my body stills completely. I don’t even realise I’m holding my breath until my lungs beg me for oxygen.

So that’s what he thinks. That’s why he can’t trust me.

“You think I’m like her?” I say, my words so quiet I don’t think they can qualify as spoken.

“That’s not what I meant,” Grayson says immediately, the guilt settling.

“You think I’d do something like that to you,” I ask slowly, carefully.

“No,” he tells me, reaching out to touch my arms. I pull away, I can’t have his fingers on my skin. He hides his hurt well, just not well enough from me. “But you have to understand I was played once and I won’t be again.”

My heart drops, plummeting into the acid in my stomach. I’m empty. An odd sort of numbness crawls under my skin, creating a barrier between my flesh and hot blood so I can’t feel anymore.

“I really thought you knew me,” I whisper, my chest aching in the absence of what‘s supposed to beat there.

“I do,” he says.

I shook my head, “if you knew me you know I’d never do that.”

“I didn’t mean to-“

“Bring up your awful ex and compare me to her?” I snarl, the emptiness leaving more space to fuel the fire of rage within me.

He sighs, “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

“You think?” I raise a brow, hugging my folded arms tighter my body in attempts to assert a challenge.

He grits his teeth. He hates her sarcasm. “I don’t have time for this,” he snaps, turning on his heel to walk out. I’ve pushed him over the edge.

“You never have time for this,” I scoff, throwing my hands up into the air as I follow him, “you can’t avoid me forever, you can’t hide behind paraphrases and excuses,” I cut in front of him, “it’s not fair.”

“That’s not fair?” he laughs, the sound hollow as it bounces off of these four walls, “you know what’s not fair? This. This, here what you’re doing to me,” he seethes, “why are you making me feel guilty for who I am?”

“This is not who you are,” I bite back, “I know you Grayson Hawthorne, I know ever inch of you, every curve of your body, every fibre of your being. I know what makes you laugh and what makes you cry, I know when you’re trying to hide your pain, I know how to read your eyes, I know where your favourite place to be kissed is, I know how you take your coffee, I know why you sleep on your side, I know when you like to go for a swim and how it makes you feel, I know what you’ve been through, I know your deepest fears, I know who your grandfather was and what you think of yourself because of it. I know the immense pressures you put on yourself, I know the expectations of yourself you have, I know how you view your being, how often you judge it. I know why the violin is your favourite and what Frank Sinatra song you’d listen to forever. I know you’re long sighted because you read too much when you were younger so you have to wear glasses. I know you Grayson,” I say, pausing for air, “and this coward in front of me is not you, it will never be you.”

Silence hits me like a bullet train. All the air is knocked from my lungs leaving my belly aching.

“Clearly you don’t know me well enough,” he says roughly, his voice is hoarse and jagged like his voicebox has been scratched, “because this is me, all of me.”

“It isn’t and you know it,” I reply searching his face with desperate eyes. He’s masking his feelings, it’s an instinct, his instinct. This argument is pushing him further away from me.

He looks at me, “do I?”

“Yes,” my voice shatters as I run my fingers through my hair, “I love you goddamit Grayson Hawthorne.”

“People have lied with those words before,” he quips, the bitter taste of betrayal probably still dancing on his tongue.

I can’t stop myself from flinching. The words sting like a fresh slap across the face. He almost looks sorry.

“Can’t you see I mean it?” I murmur, emotion swelling in my chest.

“I don’t know anymore,” he says, digging the knife deeper into my wound, “I don’t know who to trust, what I can trust, even my own judgment.”

“Me,” I beg him, shakily breathing in, taking his hands into my own, “trust me.”

He stares for a moment, his eyes and my own connected on an invisible string that seemed it would never break. I squeeze his fingertips gently as my own voice echos in my head. Me. Trust me.

I wonder if he can hear it too.

He pulls away and shakes his head, “you want something perfect.”

“I never said that,” I explode immediately, my temper with a mind of its own, “you’re putting words into my mouth-“

“But we’re not Avery and Jameson,” he says slowly, almost carefully.

The comment catches me off guard completely and I still. Is that what he really thinks? My hands, now glued to my sides begin to shake a little. I try my very hardest not to lose it.

“I don’t want to be Avery and Jameson,” I tell him firmly.

“Then stop acting like it,” Grayson seethes, with a raw sort of anger he usually keeps so well in check.

“I’m not!” I yell, letting my own rage run free like a burst of lighting cursing a stormy sky, “you’re just jealous that your brother handles his feelings and actually talks about them with his girlfriend.”

“I am not jealous,” he grits through his teeth.

“And you’re too proud to admit any of it,” I add more fuel to the fire. I can’t help myself. I’m flawed in the same way that he is too, I’m too angry and he’s too suppressed. I’m striking too many nerves and he’s constantly blocking my love.

What a mess we are.

“So what is it exactly that you’d like me to do” he asks me, each word coated with the sourest venom, “waddle home and cry my sorrows to you each evening? Should we make a club?”

“Oh don’t be facetious,” I tusk, rolling my eyes at him.

“I’m just asking,” he shrugs, taking a step in, “what is it that you would like me to do?”

He knows what he’s doing and he’s enjoying it. My face screws up in annoyance.

“It’s not that simple,” I say, “and you know it.”

“Oh,” he replies, amused suddenly. The sudden change in persona made me uneasy, it’s as if he is changing tactics in his head. He steps another inch closer to me, “so you can have things that aren’t simple to explain but I can’t?”

Yet again my words have been twisted by the master of loopholes.

“You’re blowing things out of proportion,” I tell him.

“No I think you are!” he says, his face achingly close to my own, “let’s not forget when I left for three days, I came back to a girlfriend who wouldn’t talk to me.”

His lips sit there with a taunting temptation. I want them.

“Because you left me for three days,” I snap. I feel him exhale. “No word, no warning, just a message through your brothers and then you come back and say nothing,” I almost laugh, “you think I don’t know that you’re in pain, you think that’s not killing me inside?”

“I don’t want my pain to be yours too,” he raises his voice, sending my head pounding.

“When are you going to get it into your head?” I falter, the agony ripping across my raw throat, “we’re meant to share the good times and the bad, we don’t get to choose.”

“But I am choosing,” he tells me, jabbing the left side of his chest harshly, “and I’m choosing only the good.”

“That’s what you don’t understand,” I say, only just realising my face was damp, “this is what comes from hiding from the bad, this explosion of an argument that’s making us fall apart.”

Grayson shakes his head, stubbornly, running a hand over his mouth, “this argument is a result of us both being over stressed and over tired.”

“You’re in denial constantly,” I sob, “about everything, even this.”

“In denial?” he sneers, “fine, you want the truth? This, whatever we’re doing now, is killing me, it’s tearing my insides apart, I can feel my heart being picked apart bit by bit, still beating, still bleeding but slowly dying and I can’t do a thing about it.”

“I can do something, let me do something,” I beg him, my lips quivering, as I cling to his arms, my last desperate attempt to make him see.

He stares at me, his knuckle grazes my cheek wiping away my tears. He bites his lip and shakes his head, “you can’t help me. I think I’m past the point of help.”

“You have to try Grayson,” I whisper my voice shaking like a child left in the cold, “please.”

His hands are now on my hips and they suddenly grip tighter, “…I can’t.”

Everything in me falls down, plummeting into the core of the earth to be incinerated. I can only look at him, his darkened eyes and paled face. He looks sad, empty, lonely.

“What will make you happy again?” I ask him in a murmur.

“You make me happy,” his voice breaks, “we make each other happy.”

I shake my head with a trembling bottom lip. “I don’t think we do anymore.”

He looks like physically in pain and I wonder if his internal organs also feel like they’re being squeezed.

“Why don’t we just break up then?” he whispers.

I stop. The world stops. My heart stops. My head stops. Everything is blank, like a canvas that was bought to be painted but will never be beautiful. The words register in my brain but somehow I still don’t quite understand them. My chest throbs and my legs are like jelly.

“What?”

My voice is barely audible in the silence and when it does finally sounds sort of strangled.

“You said it yourself,” he says, a single tear rolling slowly down his cheek, “we don’t make each other happy, I’m hurting you and you’re hurting me, is there not only one solution to solve it?”

He wants to break up.

It hits me hard, knocking everything out of me. I can’t breathe. I jerk out of his touch immediately, recoiling from the feeling of his fingers on my hips. My face burns as tears uncontrollably pour down my face.

“Fine,” I say, my voice wobbling like a newborn calf trying to walk.

“Fine,” he snaps after me.

We stand there in silence and stare. Neither of us move, it’s like our feet are glued to the floor and our muscles have stopped working altogether. Neither of us want this to be the end but somehow it’s already ended. It’s so quiet I can hear him breathing. I want to forget it all, this day, this argument, this tension. But we can’t change any of it.

Not now.

“I’m leaving,” I tell him finally breaking the silence.

As I turn I hope he might call out after me and tell me to stay, hoping someone might wake me up from this horrible dream, hoping it’s all some elaborate joke that had been taken to far.

None of that happened.

I don’t even look back. I just leave. I don’t know where I’m going. I just run. By the time I collapse I’m on the pavement, heaving for breath like a madwoman. My legs just give way beneath and I crumble to the floor. My face is wet before the rain starts. What have I done?

I knowww some of you are desperate for the dancer and the angel part 5 and I actually PROMISE this time it’ll be the next TIG fic out!! Hope you enjoyed this one anywayysys 💖💖

TIG masterlist

[what-even-is-thiss]

I feel like when it comes to the stardew valley spouses Sebastian would be the one I settle down with but Elliot is the one I think about at night.

He shines too brightly. He’s a little too loud. But he still makes my gay little heart jump the same way it did the first time. Every time.

But Sebastian is more stable. Sebastian loves you but can still have his own life separate from you. And he’s there. Quiet, but he’s there.

But Elliot alone in his cabin side eyes me every time I walk down to the beach. I meet his eyes a bit too long at festivals. We both know. We both know if one of us asked we would. But we won’t. It seems that he’s destined to be lonely and I am destined to be trapped. If not in my corporate job then there on that farm with that cozy safe husband and children, crops that need tending to, animals that need feeding.

Is anyone unhappy? No. Elliot has his modest success. He can live modestly off of his book sales. In time he grows old on that beach just as he feared, but it’s not so bad. He’s the town eccentric. He’s the local writer. He writes a new novel every year. A cheap little thing bought at an airport bookstore. A romance writer whose books are eaten and discarded within a week. And he’s happy.

And I sell my little artisan goods. Cheese and wine mostly these days. We put a little skull and crossbones on the wine bottles, just to be edgy. Just because we can. Children grow up in a stable and happy home with all the space in the world to run through the blueberry fields, their adoption papers framed on the wall, their slightly weird alternative dads taking them on motorcycle rides through the mountains. We’re quiet. We only get out on Fridays. Everyone knows us but we don’t hold hands at the store.

Elliot and I sit at the same table in the bar that Leah does. I know her slightly less than I know him. This town has become weirder. That’s good. We chat. Elliot is a messy drunk. Sometimes he gets a little too close to my face when he’s tipsy but he always stops himself. Everyone knows I wouldn’t stop him if he leaned in. Including my husband. We’ve never spoken about it but he’s not dumb. Everyone knows. Everyone also knows that nothing has happened. But it always could.

But Elliot doesn’t lean in. Maybe it’s the smell of dirt on me that breaks the image of me he has in his mind. Maybe it’s the public space. Maybe it’s Sebastian playing pool in the corner. Maybe if he was drunk in a private space everything would come apart. Both of our perfect on paper little lives.

Maybe if this were one of Elliot’s books we would run away together, abandon everything in the middle of the night. But neither of us would like that, really. Both of us are a one person at a time kind of guy. And we both know I made the right choice.

I still have dreams though. Of him and I on a rowboat in the middle of the ocean. He cannot contain himself and kisses me in a fit of passion. Like a vision from another universe where I’m just as happy as I am now. A parallel mirror world where I never climbed onto the back of that motorcycle and ran down the hill to the beach instead, where everything lasted for more than just that one summer.

[xlun1ax]

Lover scenario

~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~

❥ More than that > reader x male lover

Fluff, sleep, unconscious, kissing, touching, mild suggestive, hugging

୨୧꯭

·

It was 9pm

When Your lover came homelate his excuse? His co-workers wanted to hangout with him there was no harm in bonding with them. And, knowing you you would be more than happy to hear he grew close with others since you tend to encourage it.

He knew your habits like on the back of his hand at nine you would slow down your routine get ready for sleep so he was full on expecting you to do your usual stretch or another quiet hobby like watching a show or reading.

But this was a rare sight.

Your legs were on top of the couch. Like your pretty feet was full on dangling there on the backrest. His brow was raised in contemplation while taking a step towards you wondering if you found a new hobby that made you in the new position but no,

oh dear, his heart skips a beat.

You fell asleep.

You were hugging your phone, while your hair was tossed to cover the pillow, you didn't look ready for bed like you usually do. It took a while but he arrives to a conclusion. Seriously would it hurt to ask him to come home early? You always say you don't like texting because it's a hassle. You prefer face to face interaction only when he's around you would be honest with your intentions seeing that phone on your chest. you were waiting for him to text you when he'd come home.

It made his heart ache at how cute you can be sometimes dispute your ego.

His eyes drank in the sight of you letting out a sigh recognizing your sleeping habits that he grew familiar to. He doesn't know why, but whenever you'd sleep you tend to lift up your shirt until it shows your sweet subtle waist till your bra band,

Or more .

It was a question he never got an answer to he really doesn't get why. Not that he's complaining about it, it's just one of the unimportant things that tend to linger in one's mind. Perhaps it's cause you had a phase where you slept naked, who knows? But because of this habit of yours he had developed his own habit.

He leans in towards your lower abdomen kissing the skin his lips lingered on it that when he pulled away it was coated with slight wetness of his lips. He knows that's where's a baby tend to be planted if you guys decide to have one. But regardless of not having one he came to love that part of you often kissed you there. The habit became obvious whenever he sees you asleep.

“seriously what are you doing to me my love” he mutters as he looks up at your docile state unconscious. He didn't think he would put so much effort in a girl but you proved him wrong, You had trust issues heck it took a long time for him to win you over then you get overstimulated easily he couldn't touch you if he didn't do it right it makes you annoyed but seeing you sleeping Infront if him. Made him realize how much you trust him now.

He could do anything while you're unconscious you knew about it. You voiced your concerns about the possibilities but now it's all worth it he's the closest that anyone will ever be to you...

How can he not take pride in that?

You were a hard nut to crack but it was all worth it in his opinion although he'd be dead if you find out he kissed your tummy whenever you're sleeping. He can already picture the endless teasing. He kissed the corner of your lip ready to get off you.

But to his surprised

You grabbed his wrist pulled him back on the couch. Without letting him process it you went up on his chest nuzzling your face into his neck planting a soft kiss on it.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't blushing.

“L-love” his voice cracked as he gazed down at you he gulped parting his lip about to speak but you cut him off “I waited for you, is that all you're gonna give me?” you muttered making his face rival the redness of a tomato

“I didn't think you'd be so needy today ” he murmured covering half of his face. He can't comprehend this normally your arousal state would be near you period..

What date is it today.

Your lips crashed into his before he could remind himself. He knew it was coming but it never fail to make him weak he feels himself shiver while holding the couch fabric for any semblance of stability.

But you're too much of a weakness for him. Any more it's enough to make him fall to his knees. He lets out a moan louder than usual when you let your tongue in. The loud volume took you by surprise making you pull back rose an eyebrow at his reaction before a chuckle slips out of your mouth in amusement.

He never fail to amuse you and you love that about him.

His eyes hover to the side feeling embarrassed by his out burst. He didn't wanna believe that was him but your reaction says it all “stop laughing ” he grumbles flustered at your burst before your laughter dies down shaking your head.

Your expression was soft being beside him always manages to make you feel better suddenly that heavy feeling felt lighter. But is it gone? No.

You need more.

More than that to feel much better.

He knows.

It's not everyday you wait for him when you are being transparent like this it's because you want him to know how much you want him. You are careful you knew he picks up on detail that's why you calculate every movement it's sad you have to act like this that's why he savours every drop of transparency that you let out.

It's too good

It's addictive

You're addictive

It makes him want more

And he knows the question is coming

“sorry that was a bit much but, ” your voice was soft like lullaby to his ear you finger on his cheek was like carefully tracing a textured art work he loves the attention. The attention that is so hard to grab.

“ you don't need to apologize I was just surprised ” it was true you didn't because he loved it soo much he wants more you can see it in your eyes you both can't help but feel lucky to have a partner that understands you guys better than anyone.

This is your guys home. A home where you both can be honest with each other in. A safe place that will never be tainted.

Savour it

Love it

Cause time is limited

You don't know when the clock will stop ticking

That's how you guys feel with each other inside the house.

More.

I need more time with you

“that's a relief than lovely, can i have more?” your voice rung your thirst was obvious and he loves it. You both could be obsessed with each other and you guys don't care.

“you can more than that my love ”

If you want more and more is what you'll get.

You guys are willing to give each other more than anything in this world.

Because to you guys you both had excided more than that with each other.

.

Turns out he was right next morning you got your period.

~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~

⢷A/n: as always thanks for reading luv you bub<3

✧

©xlun1ax do not copy, translate or post author's work on other platforms

[aangelinakii]

Hi!!!

I would like to request smth from your word prompt list for Dick and short fem!reader please 🥺!

Hoodie, peaches, cupcake - these are the chosen words 🫶

V DAY SURPRISE.

— someone's home early!

summary : baking on your own becomes baking for two when your boyfriend comes home early from his patrol shift. (spoiler! dick just can't help himself)

note : this was my first word prompt request so i hope it lives up to expectations !!! <3

note 2 : i noticed halfway the tenses change ? i think ? so that's just my bad

valentine's day could be going a lot better.

everybody knew friday nights in gotham city were the worst in terms of crime; after a long week, who wouldn't want to wind down with a pint at the bar? the only issue was that those people tended to drink a little too much, and the group of bats you knew so well had to be the ones showing up at commissioner gordon's doorstep with drunken bastards ready to sit in a cell for the rest of the evening.

not to mention the sick creeps who went around mugging happy couples on street corners — probably sad they didn't have anybody to spend this lovely day with at home, so they went out to ruin it for everybody.

and for that reason exactly were you staying home, cooking up a fresh batch of cupcakes for your boyfriend to come home to.

as well as the fact your boyfriend was one of those bats saving the city right now.

after a few years you should be used to it, but you couldn't deny, even as you swayed your hips and hummed to the playlist you'd put on, that you wished dick could be home for at least one valentine's day.

usually he was free during the day, but you had to work, so when you had a free evening, he was out hopping rooftops.

although he'd promised to bring back dinner on his way home from patrol, you wanted to surprise him with something nice and sweet; vanilla and raspberry cupcakes, with a homemade pink buttercream icing. even if you didn't finish them all tonight, there would be enough for dick to pack up and swing by the manor tomorrow for the rest of his family.

you were just finishing up the batter, vanilla with flecks of ripe red raspberry, the sleeves of your hoodie (stolen from dick's side of the closet, of course) rolled up just past your elbows, because any lower and it would come spilling down your forearm, and pouring it into the muffin liners sitting in the tray, when a sound came from one of the rooms further in your apartment.

movement stopped immediately, causing some batter to go astray, and your ears sharpened to listen up.

a glance at the clock on the oven said it was only about ten, which was too early for dick to come back on a friday.

carefully, quietly, you lowered the bowl of batter back down onto the counter and reached into the knife block.

of course, there was the chance your boyfriend was home, sliding in through the window left unlocked in your bedroom.

but what if?

this was gotham, after all. better to be safe than sorry.

edging closer and closer to the closed door of the bedroom you shared with dick, you raised the knife, clutching it to your chest for safe keeping, the handle and your hands disappearing as the tucked sleeves finally came undone by the crook of your elbows.

at this point, you were about to speak, about to call out, but your voice caught in your throat — would it be wise to announce yourself, putting yourself inevitably in danger?

gathering all the courage you could muster to your chest, one of your flour-covered hands shakily pulled itself away from the handle of your hastily-chosen weapon and reached out towards the handle. you'd just open it and see, that's all. easy as pie.

but whoever was on the other side had the same idea, and got to the door first, creaking it open, and you had no choice but to freeze.

black and blue lights up the room — mostly because the light from the living room is reflecting off the lycra fabric — and a bated breath runs from your throat.

"happy—! uh..."

when you finally find yourself back on earth, feet firm on the ground, eyes searching the handsome intruder, you realise dick's back from patrol — early. he's barely had time to pull off his domino mask or nightwing attire; his charcoal locks are frizzy at the top, where usually they would be coming down in perfect waves. but something out of the ordinary you notice is the bouquet of red roses under his arm.

"thanks for the, uh— present," dick chuckles, forced awkwardness coming out comical as he reaches out for the knife in your grip with his free hand. "always wanted one of these."

he looks down at the kitchen knife, weighing it in his hand before cocking it back and tossing it into free space, where it flips once, twice in the air before landing safely in the grip of his palm once again.

"you—" with a frustrated groan you reach forward and lightly shove dick in the hard bicep, narrowly missing the plastic packaging encasing the roses in their bunch. "you scared the shit out of me."

with a hit like that, dick's sure he could handle anything you throw at him, and he just lets out another bemused chuckle. "forgive me," he smiles. "happy valentine's day, my love." and he holds out the bouquet to you, its cover matching the valentine's spirit with red and pink hearts dancing around in a chain pattern.

looking at your boyfriend standing there, messed hair and utterly boyishly charming grin, half-dimples etching deep into the corners of his mouth, earnestly offering you the richest red roses you'd ever seen... maybe you can find it somewhere in yourself to forgive him.

what am i saying? you definitely can.

without another moment to lose, you leap forward, engulfing dick in a warm hug, one that's been waiting all day to be given. he only reciprocates with one arm — you can hear the plastic rustling against the back of your head — as he doesn't want to risk nipping you with the knife.

burried in his chest, the skin-tight fabric of his suit, your voice comes out a muffle. "oh, i've just missed you all day."

but dick could navigate you like the back of his hand.

his cheek squishes against the top of your head as he sinks into you. "i missed you, too, peaches," he sighs against your hair.

another few, tender beats pass, and you find yourself pulling away, hands finding the base of the bouquet as you do so, eager to get them out of their casing (as cute as it is) and into a vase with some water.

dick follows close behind as you walk through the flat back to the kitchen. "what have you been up to, sweetheart?" he asks as he slots your ex-weapon back into its block on the counter behind you, taking in the bowl of pink mixture and baking tray.

"doing some valentine's baking," you return, laying the roses carefully on their side whilst you search the cupboards for a vase large enough. with a glance back at him, finding he's removed his mask, which seems to cause a physical reaction somewhere beneath your ribs, you continue. "want to do the honours?"

behind you, dick lets out a small exhale. "honours? i don't know, i don't want to ruin them."

finally you find something that might work, and you place it beside the roses as a reminder, because your attention has landed on your boyfriend now — the crook of his nose and parting of his lips are much more important to be looking at.

"don't worry, i've already made the batter, so you won't ruin them," you smile, taking a step towards him and pulling up behind him, cheek leaning against the bulge of his tricep. "all you have to do is pour an equal amount into each case. if i've made the batter right, then nothing will happen to them. it'll be my fault if anything."

when he peers down at you, smile barely visible at his lips — but you know it's there — he carefully reaches out for the bowl, and you bring your hand over his on the spatula, hovering for safe keeping.

you'd think he'd be more mindful of listening to your advice — pour an equal amount into each case — but he can only watch you, and how careful and loving you are with him, and he's sure he wouldn't rather have any other valentine to come home to.

[gay-dorito-dust]

lmao this is my first time giving a request. Could you maybe do dick Grayson head cannons?

Most of these hdc come from my little brain that I thought fit Dick in general, it’s not based on stuff (some of them are but not all) if ppl agree or don’t agree, I couldn’t care less honestly. Also thanks for the request anon, hope you like it! 🫶

I know I write him as a little goofy goober but he tends to play up this character so that he doesn’t have to open up about anything. Is it foolproof? Not entirely and it solely depends on the person and their relationship to him,those of whom that pick up what he’s putting down, and those (you) who can easily see through this facade and know something is up.

He’s more often than not the type who will become more affectionate in private where it’s just you, him and Hayley. Dick doesn’t need anybody else other then you two, his confidants as he so playfully called you both one day, and he’s more then content then he’s ever been.

Older sibling syndrome is strong in this boy.

Foot wars are a common occurrence in your shared apartment as you push against the others foot with your own to see who’s going to be victorious, only for you to accidentally smack him in the face with your foot and the foot war becomes ten times worse, seeing as how as Dick often wins them more then you did.

He will never stop feeling guilty about Jason’s death. Never. That boy who was filled with love and life and claimed that being robin was magic was still within Jason somewhere, dick just knows this to be true, even if Jason loves to claims that that little kid was gone.

And while he’s glad that Jason is back in his life, dick couldn’t help but feel as though he could’ve done better by him at times, holding onto that guilt and shame for not being their for his brother that still killed him inside to this day whenever he saw Jason laugh and or smile at something. It hurts but Dick will never stop being in Jason’s corner, not once. If Gotham was against Jason then Dick will gladly be by Jason’s side, to show that his allegiance to his brother would outweigh a lot of things.

(I’m so normal about dick and Jason being brothers can’t you tell 🥲 leave me here and be delusional)

The same applies to Damian also, which is why your mostly acquainted with both Jason and Damian in comparison to the rest of his family because they often come over by pure coincidence, or because dick dragged them by their ears with a smile on his face.

Insists that you cling onto his legs while he does pull ups and or sit on his back while he does push ups as he lets you count.

Complains to you when he looses the nightwing look alike contest, and to Jason no less, which no one that knows him personally allows him to live down.

They (Tim and Stephanie) even make memes out of it.

Has Hayley as his Lock Screen, you as his Home Screen. Both wearing cute matching pyjamas. So when he’s on his phone people think he’s smiling at his picture of Hayley -which is true- but he’s also smiling at the picture of you also.

His family pester him about you a lot, even Bruce asks when he’s going to meet you, claiming he’s not going to get any younger should Dick hold back on introducing you to him.

Even Alfred gets in on this as well but Dick always has an excuse locked and loaded when these questions are asked, but even he knows that Bruce knows that it’s all bullshit, however he doesn’t say anything outright incase Dick didn’t feel comfortable introducing you to them yet.

Wears only boxers to sleep or boxers and a light blue shirt, it depends on what he’s feeling really.

Loves living in the moment with you as you enjoy the others company without feeling the need to fill the air with chatter, you could just both exist and still love each other regardless because Dick didn’t feel the need to talk all the time, so moments like these were what he longed for most.

Ungracefully fell on his ass in fuzzy soaks once and hurt his tailbone in the process. It was funny until he asked to you put a bag of ice on the afflicted area.

Loved narrating what you and or Hayley do in a goofy voice that never fails to make you smile.

Doesn’t open up immediately but once he does it’s a sign of trust. He admits to his flaws in past relationships and how he wasn’t the most faithful and often saw commitment as a challenge. He understands if you see that as a sign to leave the relationship, he doesn’t expect anything from you, but if you did stay then he’s more then happy to not repeat those mistakes in your relationship.

Knows that people see Bruce when they look at him, he expects it because after being with him as long as he has it was only logical that he picked up some habits along the way whether he liked it or not.

Has a big heart but claims that Jason’s heart was twice as big because he’s so full of love and believed in love.

[avatar-anna]

Save a Horse...

2024 Masterlist

"Reading anything interesting?" Harry asked as he entered the den, your favorite place to read.

Holding your Kindle to your chest, you said, "Uh, I guess. I only just started it, so."

Harry raised a brow skeptically as he sat in the loveseat across from the bay window where you sat. "Really?" he asked. "You've been in here a while."

"I—I got stuck on my phone for a while," you said. "You know how it is."

"Hm."

Not saying anything else, Harry picked up his own book and opened it. You watched him for a moment, brows furrowed. As far as you were concerned, he was working all afternoon. You didn't typically mind, you took the quiet afternoons to run errands, tend to your garden outside, try out new recipes, and read.

Most of the time, you read. Harry had always known you to be a bookworm, the first time you met you had a novel in your hand and one in the bag over your shoulder. Books were how you communicated—gifts just because, as a form of apology, ones you thought you might enjoy together, which rarely ever happened. You left them in places for Harry to find like his guitar case or his carry on when he left for tour, and he put novels in different purses of yours or among the stacks on your bookshelf to see if you'd notice the new addition.

It was safe to say that both of you loved to read, but quiet afternoons like this were typically ones you enjoyed alone, specifically so Harry wouldn't see you blush or question what it was you were blushing at.

You glanced down at your Kindle, at the paragraph you left off on. "Jack shoved Delilah against the barn's door before ripping her blouse wide open to reveal her bare chest. Buttons scattered against the floor, but Delilah didn't care, not when Jack kissed a searing path toward her—"

"You know what? I think I'm gonna start on dinner," you said, clicking your Kindle shut before standing up.

Looking at your boyfriend was the wrong move. Harry lay stretched out on the loveseat, his shorts riding up on his thighs revealing more of his toned legs than you would've liked. That wasn't the first...steamy scene in your book, and let's just say looking at your very sexy boyfriend wasn't curbing the feeling of need coursing through your veins.

Harry definitely wouldn't have been opposed if you crawled into his lap right now, but he'd ask questions, questions that were too embarrassing to answer.

"Dinner?" he asked, setting his book down in his lap. His reading glasses, which had been perched high on the bridge of his nose, slid down, his hair adorably rumpled. If you hadn't known he'd been in his home studio all day today, you would've guessed he'd just rolled out of bed. "It's one o'clock, baby."

"Or nap," you said, hating how skittish you sounded. "Maybe take a nap. I don't know, I'm not really feeling like reading right now."

"Well, that's a first," Harry said, his voice slightly teasing. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing!" you insisted, though you answered a little too hastily, and your voice might've been higher than usual. Scratching the back of your neck, you tried to quell your heartbeat. "Nothing. Why—Why would you ask that?"

"Because you're acting...strange," Harry concluded. A small smile flickered at the corner of his mouth as he looked you up and down. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the book you're reading on that thing, would it?"

He nodded toward the Kindle in your hands with a raised brow. It was a little too pointed, as if he knew exactly what you kept on it. You and Harry both enjoyed the feel of a physical book in your hands, but you had an e-reader too. For convenience, you told Harry. And it was convenient. Your Kindle was light, you could carry a library in your purse and it barely weighed a pound, and it conveniently hid your most scandalous book titles.

"N—No," you said, fighting the urge to hide your Kindle behind your back, or chuck it across the room until it broke and was unusable. "Like—Like I said, I'm just not in the mood to read."

"Okay, I'll join you then. I'm a little tired myself."

Harry stood up and stretched his arms high above his head, his t-shirt rising with him. Your eyes zeroed in on the sliver of skin that revealed itself. Tan, tattooed skin, taught with muscle, a light trail of hair that led into the waistband of his briefs. Your cheeks were already flaming red from the situation at hand, but seeing his skin, seeing Harry be...Harry without even trying was too much. You thought you might combust.

"Why?" It was a stupid question, one you knew Harry saw right through.

"Why are you so eager to not hang out with me?" he asked back, his eyes narrowing. "And what's got you so flustered today? Has Jack ravished Delilah again?"

"Wh—What?"

Harry smirked at you, his eyes filled with mischief as he nodded at the e-reader in your hands. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I know what you keep on there."

What? "Since when? And how—how do you know about—"

"You fell asleep reading last night," Harry explained. "And the Kindle was still on. I mean, I've always had my suspicions because you're always blushing when you've got that thing in your hands, but I got curious."

"I—You—You snooped—"

"I'm sorry, baby. I wouldn't have looked if I knew you'd be upset about it," he said, stepping closer. "But you shouldn't be. Nothing to be embarrassed about here."

You looked down at the socks on your feet instead of Harry coming closer to you. He said there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but you couldn't help but feel it creeping along your skin. You didn't do anything wrong, but you felt dirty for some reason, like you'd gotten caught doing something you knew you shouldn't have.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you said, "So, are you going to tease me about it or what?"

"Nothing to tease about, baby. I already told you that. I just didn't realize you had a thing for cowboys, that's all."

You huffed. You knew you weren't getting off that easy. "Shut up."

"No really," Harry said. You weren't looking at him, but you could hear the grin in his voice. "I wish you'd told me sooner. I would've gotten a hat, gotten the right jeans. Is that why you're into that show now? The one with all the cowboys and horseback riding and—"

"Alright, alright. I get it," you said, finally looking at him. Looking up at him, more like. Harry was practically toe to toe with you, his hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You know what? I'm taking me and my Kindle upstairs and I'm going to finish reading Jack—what did you call it?—ravish Delilah."

Harry let you stomp away in a huff, chuckling at your back as you left the den. Going up to the bedroom you shared with Harry, you settled on the bed and turned your Kindle back on.

Your eyes flitted across the screen, tracking over each word but not really reading them. You wanted to lose yourself in the story, in the scene laid out before you, but you couldn't.

"So, is it the hats that do it for you? Or the accents?"

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your Kindle to the side. Harry leaned against the doorframe, his eyes still holding that mirth in them. Narrowing your eyes at him, you said, "The ruggedness, I think. There's something so...manly about a guy on a horse and doing honest work, manual labor. Know what I mean?"

His nose wrinkled as he laughed. "Ha ha. I think I'm gonna have to download some other kinds of novels on there. Ones about rockstars falling for their fans, maybe?"

Harry began crawling onto the bed toward you, only stopping when you pressed a foot to his chest. "Really?"

"Definitely more rooted in reality than your wrangler fantasies," he said, then turned his head to the side. Pushing back your yoga pants, Harr pressed a tiny kiss to your ankle, then worked his way up your leg, toward the back of your knee. "Take these off, baby. And pick up that book of yours too."

You didn't need to be told twice about ditching your pants, but the book part made you pause. "Why the book? You were teasing me about it not even a minute ago."

"I am going to make sure you enjoy it," Harry said, though it sounded more like a promise.

Excitement flipped in your belly, your cheeks flushed with anticipation. "Yeah? Maybe next time I'll get you a cowboy hat."

Harry raised his brows, a crooked smile inching up his face. "I could get behind that. Now don't make me ask you again, baby."

Harry tugged on your ankle until you lay flat against the mattress with a squeak. "I'm going, I'm going!" you cried with an excited giggle, shoving your yoga pants down and wriggling out of them. Harry's hands, which were calloused from years of playing the guitar were rough against your skin, but it sent a lick of curling heat down your spine.

"The book, baby. Go on."

Your lips pursed as you looked at Harry. His lips were wet from where he'd swiped his tongue over them, the pads of his fingers trailing up and down the skin of your inner thighs. The light stubble of his cheeks scratched your skin, but it didn't hurt, it felt thrilling as he looked up at you through his lashes, green eyes glinting with promise.

Keeping eye contact, you reached for the abandoned Kindle, clicking it on and looking down at where you left off. Harry continued to lean against your thigh, stroking his thumb up and down while you settled against the bed. Nothing for one page, then more nothing, then he began to prop your leg up, then the other.

"Jack flipped Delilah over, his hands splaying across her bare back until they found purchase in the tresses of her dark red hair. 'Come on,' Delilah panted, already breathless from the mere anticipation of him filling her. It hadn't been long since they last fucked, but it felt like an age. She needed it more than she cared to admit. Badly enough that she was willing to do it in a dusty old barn. 'What are you waiting for—' 'Maybe I should put it in your mouth instead. That'll shut you up—"

"Oh." You gasped, pleasure tingling through your whole body.

"Is that me or Jack?" Harry asked, his voice vibrating through you, nose nudging against you in a way that had your toes curling.

"Jack," you teased, then arced your back against the bed with a groan.

"Sounds like I've got my work cut out for me," he said before parting your legs further. "Keep going. Don't put it down until I tell you."

"But—Ow!"

Harry kissed the juncture of your thigh, right where he'd pinched it. "Keep going," he repeated.

"Rude," you muttered but picked the e-reader nonetheless.

When you continued, so did Harry. It was hard to keep focus. Not when teased with his nose, or when he expertly worked you over with his tongue, especially not when he thrust his fingers inside you relentlessly. Still, you waited, still you read, waiting for Harry to tell you you could stop.

You were two orgasms in when he finally looked up, chin glistening and evil smirk shining as he glanced up at you. "I think that was all me, don't you?"

"Shut up and fuck me," you said airily, breaths still falling heavily. Giggling, you continued. "That I got from Delilah."

Harry crept up the bed until his face was level with you. His nose against yours before kissing it. "Tell me more."

"I could tell you," you said with a grin that matched Harry's. Reaching for the waistband of his shorts and briefs, you began to tug. "But I think we'd both have more fun if I showed you."

Harry leaned onto his back and rested his arms above his head, settling back with a grin as you climbed on top of him. His eyes rolled back blissfully to a single roll of your hips before they settled back on you.

"Show me then, baby."

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 11

Hello! And welcome back. You'll be happy to note that this story is now marked complete. It will have a total of 15 chapters that will be released here every Thursday! So I hope you enjoy the ride.

In this we have Steve adjusting to Eddie being home and Hopper runs afoul a creature.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

~

Steve was adjusting to life with Eddie with some difficulty. Since Eddie did most of his work from home, Steve would turn a corner to do the laundry and be surprised to see someone else in the house.

“You had Chrissy and Wayne here for two weeks each,” Eddie huffed with a amusement the third time it happened. “How are you still surprised to see me?”

Steve’s face turned bright red with embarrassment. “I don’t know. I’d guess that it was because they tended to stay to the guest wing part of this massive house and you don’t.” Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Not that you have to or anything! Just an observation. I’ll get used to it! I promise!”

Eddie chuckled. “I’m not going to lie, having you here sometimes startles me too. I spent nearly a year with just me and the girls and now the house is teeming with people and it’s a bit of a shock to the system.”

“Oh!” Steve cried. “Yeah, I guess it would be. Do you like it better with people or without?”

Eddie smiled that sweet fond smile that melted Steve’s insides every time. But they were extra melty because that was the first time Steve had seen it aimed at him and he felt warm all over.

“Oh it’s definitely better with people,” he murmured. “Especially knowing that you hand picked everyone and would have never picked someone you didn’t trust. You also somehow managed to make the D&D room something other than a shrine to my past. People play in there now. And it’s all thanks to you.”

Steve blushed, ducking his head. “You’re welcome. I just did what you asked me to do, to find people I could work with and that’s what I did. I’m just glad it all worked out for you.”

Just then the girls came barreling through the hall like a herd of elephants.

Eddie and Steve shared a glance and then Steve dropped the laundry basket and they both took off after the girls. They chased them through the house until they were cornered in the kitchen.

“Joanie,” Eddie said darkly, “Janie, you were supposed to be napping.”

Both girls looked at each other then at Eddie and Steve who both had their hands on their hips and crumpled. Joan started with the water works first and then Janice.

Eddie and Steve shared an exasperated glance and eye roll, then Eddie picked up Joan and Steve picked up Janice.

“See how tired you are?” Steve murmured as he rocked Janice back and forth. “You’re crying because you need sleep but you’re fighting it.”

“Come on,” Eddie said gently. “I’ll read you a story for your nap so that you can go to sleep. But just this once. This is what Steve is here for. To take care of you while Daddy works, okay?”

Both girls nodded. But in the end Eddie hadn’t needed to read a story to them because halfway up the stairs, Joan fell asleep and at the top, Janice followed suit. Steve and Eddie carefully tucked them into bed, stuff animals piled up around them as fierce guardians. Eddie slipped out first and then Steve, turning the light off behind him.

As Eddie and Steve walked down the stairs trying to be as quiet as possible, they only were able to breathe once they had reached the bottom.

“I’d put them in their own rooms,” Eddie said with an exasperated huff, “if I didn’t know that they would be sneaking into each others rooms anyway.”

Steve licked his upper lip, nodding, “Oh yeah. But they’re also getting to the point where they’re starting to form their own thoughts and opinions and realizing that they don’t match up to their twin.”

Eddie pursed his lips. “Damned if you do and damned if you don’t.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Steve said, sighing. “Oh, I wanted to let you know that Dustin called, they’re moving the game to Saturday from their usual Thursdays, Lucas is trying out for the basketball team and they’re all going out to support him.”

“I’ll be sure to let the guys know,” Eddie said. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not like we’re partying or going out drinking on the weekend anymore.”

“God,” Steve said shaking his head. “I remember my frat boys days and it is not something I care to repeat.”

“When did you go to school?” Eddie asked, “I thought it was the circus and nannying?”

“There was about two years where I decided to get an associate’s degree in early child development,” Steve said with a shrug, “and applying at my dad’s former fraternity helped pay for the education.”

“Wow.”

He shook his head. “I was also nannying for a couple where they only needed me on the week days to make sure someone was home and the kid fed before they got off work.”

“Was that the weird taxidermists?” Eddie asked with a grin.

“That would be them,” Steve replied with his own answering grin. “It got me through college and gave me free weekends to blow my liver out.”

“God,” Eddie said, flopping on the sofa, “I remember those days. Before I met and married Ethan.”

“How did you two meet?” Steve asked, sitting next to Eddie.

“Some award show,” Eddie said, rubbing his eyebrow. “Not the Grammy’s, I’d remember that. Teen Choice Awards or the VMAs. Something like that where it was a mix of models, movie stars, and musicians. And he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid my eyes on. He had sea green eyes, coal black hair and a single dimple in his left cheek. I wanted. And the bastard made me chase him. And I did. I think that should have been my first sign he didn’t care for me like I did for him.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said scooting closer to him. He took his hand into his and rubbed his thumb back and forth. “I’m sure there were too many signs to count but because he played happy to the hilt you believed it, because you were happy.”

Eddie scoffed. “Sounds like you’re talking from experience there. Any skeletons in the closet you keep your exes?”

“Loads,” Steve said with a snort. “I don’t date much because usually I’m up to my eyeballs in kiddos, but there have been some absolute chunkers of walking red flags in there. Men and women both. They all seemed to wander in search of other people some times breaking up with me first, but not always. But the unending refrain of why never changed. I was too much... of everything I guess.”

Eddie covered Steve’s hand with his other hand. “I don’t think there is anything you could do that would make me think that of you.”

Steve smiled back. “That’s kind of you.”

The back door bang open and there was a lot of swearing, forcing the two men to jump out of their skins, but somehow not apart.

“Those God damned critters!” Hopper cursed. “When I get my hands on them, I’ll skin them alive!”

Steve and Eddie shared a glance before they both got to their feet and followed the sound of cursing to where the house kept their garbage bins on the days it wasn’t out on the curb. Two of the three cans had been tipped over and riffled through. Hopper, the groundskeeper was standing over top of them with his hand on his hips glaring down at the mess.

“Oooh,” Eddie hissed. “What happened here, chief?”

Hopper looked up at them in confusion as if he had forgotten the house populated at all. He blinked a moment. “I didn’t wake the girls did I?”

Steve shook his head. “It would take a sonic boom going off near their heads to wake them once they’ve actually fallen asleep.”

Eddie chuckled, “They’re like their dad that way.”

Hopper breathed out a sigh of relief. “I was worried I had woken up the littles. As to what happened, raccoons is what happened. They get into the trash and just fuck it up.”

“How do you know it’s raccoons?” Steve asked cocking his head to the side. “Couldn’t it have just been someone messing around or even vagrants?”

Jim rubbed his chin. “Could be, but I used to do security on one of the neighborhood houses.” he said wearily, “and they were having raccoon problems. They put locks on the garbage bins and that was that. I’d suggest you do the same.”

Steve nodded. “And if it’s the other two, the lock would fix both problems as well.”

“Eehhh...” Eddie said with a wince. “If my cleaners were anything other than a single mom and her fifteen year old daughter, then I’d agree with the lock and move on. But aren’t there other things we can try first, like those bear proof bins at Yellowstone or whatever?”

“You’ve been to Yellowstone?” Steve asked tilting his head to the side. “I wouldn’t have thought you were the outdoorsy type.”

“Yup!” Eddie said with a bright smile, rocking back on his heels. “Wayne and I used to travel to all the national parks before I had the girls. We plan are starting back up next year or the one after now that they aren’t babes in arms anymore.”

“I’ll look into get some,” Hopper said clearing his throat so their attention was back at the matter at hand. “See if I can find some approved by the county. I’ve got a friend who’s a wildlife rescuer. Maybe he can loan me some traps so we get the critter some place safer.”

Eddie nodded. “Thank you. I’m sure the girls would appreciate knowing that the animal isn’t going to be harmed.”

Hopper got a twisted sort of smile. “Had a little girl myself once, I know how tenderhearted they can be.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Steve murmured, noting the past tense of that statement.

Hopper cocked his head and then shook it ruefully. “Pastor says she’s in better place, ain’t sure if I believe that anymore.”

“I hear that,” Eddie said, “I felt the same way when my mom died. Everyone was telling eight year old me that she was in a better place. When I thought the best place she could be was with me.”

Hopper nodded. “I get to it. I didn’t mean to startle you. Have a good day.” Then he wandered off to find garbage bags to clean up the mess.

“Grumpy, old man,” Eddie said fondly. “He’s good at his job though. How did you entice him away from his other job?”

Steve grinned. “I told him that he could live on the property rent free and be left alone for the most part.”

Eddie threw back is head and laughed. “That would do it all right. And it’s not like I don’t get wanting to be left the fuck alone. He does his job and his does it well. Ten of ten, no complaints from me.”

“I really should get back to doing the laundry,” Steve said jutting his thumb behind him to inside the house.”

Eddie checked his watch. “And I’ve got a Zoom meeting with some weirdo nu metal band who wants me to produce their album. Lord save me from Nu Metal!”

Steve just shook his head and the two of them went inside. Maybe living with Eddie wasn’t as hard as he thought it was.

~

Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Tag List: ONE SLOT OPEN!!

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight @gregre369

2- ​@a-little-unsteddie @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach @yesdangerpls @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch

4- @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

8- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

9- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers @fearieshadow @blondie1006

10- @thesecondfate @wheneverfeasible @depressed-freak13 @genderless-spoon

[cautotelic]

Chapter 5: Been Like This

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis: When you get taken away from your home land and thrown into the palace of the infamous warlord, will things be as bad as they first seemed?

CW: SMUT (what we've all been waiting for), kinda fluff, Ambessa being downright downbad, yes the title is from that Doja Cat song 🤨

A/N: enough with the sadness, let the tension end. please leave more replies/comments I LOVE reading them and knowing y’all enjoy the story:))

The next few days go by painstakingly slow. I help the physicians with tending to the injured warriors. I’m back to avoiding Ambessa, still somewhat upset with her. Whenever I think about her I’m drawn between being so frustratingly angry at her and just wanting to thank the fact she’s, in her words, alive and well.

Whenever I get the chance during the day I’ll go into my room and try to get a bit of sleep before leaving for the night, knowing that Ambessa has been residing in my room. Maybe she’s hoping that I’ll come back at the same time she's there, but I doubt that.

Currently I’m outside of the estate collecting snow in a bucket to take inside for the physicians. Being in my own thoughts I don’t hear the crunching of snow beneath boots coming from behind me. 

“You should really wear a coat out here, little lady.”

I smile. “You want to give me a hand or are you just going to stand there and look pretty?”

The crunch of snow grows closer before Rictus’s big, burly form comes into view. He settles himself behind me and pulls something out of his cape, a blanket. 

I hold my hand up. He continues to unfold it. “The General would have my head if I let you get frostbite out here.”

“Why does she bother?” I mumble as I feel the weight of the blanket being placed around my shoulders. I will admit that I am thankful for the blanket.

Rictus hums as he takes the bucket out of my hands and begins shoveling in the snow with his own gloved hands. “She has a weird way of showing it, but she really does care about you. It’s the reason she brought you here,” he admits.

My brows furrowed in confusion but Rictus continued. “She and your father had a meeting negotiating trade deals and land disputes, the regular diplomatic conversations,” he says and I nod. “I remember you standing in the corner of your fathers office, just a tiny little thing, barely noticed you were there. But when we got back on the airship, you were all she could talk about.”

“She sent your father a letter asking if he would trade you for extra trading goods. He refused and she threatened him with war.” The bucket of snow is full so Rictus stands, I copy his movements as we start to make our way back to the estate. “Of course she knew of your power and wanted you to train her soldiers, but she also saw how miserable you looked, like a bird trapped in a cage. Her stronger feelings for you only transpired after you arrived.”

We step back into the estate and hand the bucket of snow to the physician standing there. I watch her leave before turning to Rictus. “Why are you telling me this?”

“So you understand why I have to do what I’m about to do next,” he utters, a hint of guilt showing in his expression.

“What-“

In an instant I’m scooped up and thrown over his shoulder as he begins walking down the hallway. A small gasp comes out as I am disoriented. “Rictus put me down. Where are you taking me?” I protest.

My struggling does nothing to sway him into putting me down. “The General hasn’t slept for a week because of you and personally, I don’t enjoy being yelled at,” he grunts as he readjusts me on my shoulder.

The realization hits me. He’s taking me to Ambessa. I start hitting his back. “Rictus, put me down now. I don’t want to see her,” I declare.

I protest the whole way until we walk into a room lined with bookshelves. He sets me down on my feet and I turn around to face Ambessa who is sitting at her desk. The surprise on her face tells me that all this was all by Rictus’s own doing. 

“General,” Rictus nods towards Ambessa before walking out of the room, leaving us together.

The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife. I stand awkwardly in the center of her study as I shift from foot to foot. Her study is just as warm and inviting as her bedroom. Throw blankets adorn the couch sat in front of the fireplace and soft rugs cover the floors.

I look up at Ambessa and she isn’t looking at me but I can tell she’s tired.

“I don’t know why he brought you here, I told him, and everyone else for that fact, not to bother you,” she states coldly as she writes something down in the ledger on the desk.

Just hearing her talk and being in her general vicinity has all my anger resurfacing. I let out a chuckle. “You’re a real piece of work, you know?” I accuse as I stalk towards her desk.

She stops writing, folds her arms, and leans back in her seat, an amused expression playing on her face. “Oh you're in no position to talk about being a piece of work, but please, do tell.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, growing irritated. “You are so incredibly maddening. I cannot fathom how anyone gets anything done around here with you.” When I get close enough I trail my hand along the edge of her desk. “For the past month I spent the whole time believing you were dead, hoping you weren’t so I could do it myself. But now…” I sigh as I look at her, looking for answers to the ache I feel deep in my bones. “I can’t even find the strength to stay mad at you.”

Our eyes lock and I wonder if there is just as much emotion in my eyes as there are in hers. I draw closer to her slowly, unsure and uncertain. Reaching out I touch her cheek with the backs of my fingers softly. 

She leans into the small touch before grabbing my hand and pressing kisses to my palm. “Forgive me… please.”

My body leans towards her hesitantly, eyes darting between her lips and her eyes. I gently press my lips to hers, my own silent apology and many words unspoken. I feel her smile into the kiss as she lets me lead. My own repressed desires surface as I move to press myself closer to her. Ambessa stands from her desk chair, breaking our kiss as her hands come under my thighs and lift me onto the cool wood of her desk. My hands move on their own accord touching any part of her that I can. She chuckles at my eagerness before lifting her shirt off, her bindings going with it. I stare at her for a good second admiring her as her hands go to the bottom hem of my shirt. She looks at me, waiting for me to push her away, to close myself off again.

I don’t.

I mutter a soft ‘yes’ and she takes my shirt off. Unlike our kiss in the library, her fingers find my skin, going over the scars on my chest and torso. Under her observant gaze I feel self conscious and I curl in on myself.

Ambessa notices this and makes a noice of displeasure. Her head dips back down and her lips brush against the shell on my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. “Do you know how turned on you make me, sweetheart? Hm.” She hums as she nuzzles her nose into the crook of my neck. I shake my head and she groans. “Too much. I get all hot and bothered when you're fully dressed, so don’t worry about this,” she says, her hands trailing up my sides. “You're perfect.”

Her lips find mine again as she lifts me off the desk and walks us over to the big couch in her study. Laying me down on the couch she makes quick work of my pants as well as her own. She leans down and sucks on the skin of my neck, leaving dark marks that will stay. Her hand travels down, down until it touches my waiting core. She teases, circling her fingers around my clit. I let out a frustrated whine and she chuckles.

“So impatient,” she hums, kissing my ear.

She’s merciful and slowly enters her fingers. Her pace starts out slow and deliberate, sinking them in before, dragging them almost all the way out, before doing it over again. I sigh, pleased that she’s finally touching me but wanting her to speed up. 

My hands come around to her back, grabbing as much of her as I can before pushing her into me. I turn my head to it’s right by her ear. “I know you love me, but I want you to fuck me like you hate me,” I nearly demand.

She chuckles into my skin. “I would be careful what you ask for, little one,” she purrs as she bites down onto the space between my neck and shoulder. She speeds up the thrusts of her hand as she curls her fingers up and brushes that spot inside me. I gasp. She mimics my face and sound. “There,” she says breathily. “Is that what you wanted? Hm. To be treated like this, like a toy for me to use?”

I let out a strangled moan into her ear. My noises only egg her on as she fucks me. My nails dig into her back. 

“So fucking wet, your basically swallowing my fingers. You dirty, dirty girl,” she says as she leans away from me looking down at my sopping cunt. 

She uses the thumb of the same hand to gently circle my clit, light and slow motions. She watches her own fingers disappear inside me, she damn near moans at the sight. I quickly shut my legs closed at the sensation, feeling overwhelmed. She roughly pushes them back open as I feel her go deeper.

“Fuck…” I sigh. It’s all too much, her, my body. I reach my hand down to grab at her wrist. For what exactly, I’m not sure, but the coil in my stomach is winding tighter and tighter, I feel like I might burst.

Ambessa looks down at me with a dark expression on her face as she grabs both my wrists in her free hand and holds them against my stomach, leaving me helpless as she tortures my body.

“Mm that’s much better, don’t you think, little one?” She chuckles as she bullies her fingers into me at an unforgiving pace.

The sounds leaving my mouth are absolutely, downright shameful. But I can’t find it in me to care right now. Moans and whines leave my lips but Ambessa swallows them in a kiss. 

“Please please ple-ah,” I jolt as she hits that spot. She takes notice and focuses on repeatedly hitting that spot as her circles on my clit fasten.

The coil begins to fray, the pressure too much. “A-ambessa stop I-“ I’m cut off by my own moan.

She looks down at me and hums. “Are you close? Going to make a mess for me, pretty girl?” She coos.

I struggle against her hold trying to get away from her and the feeling in my stomach as my breathing grows ragged. I cry out as my orgasm washes over me, my back arched, Ambessa smiles as she fucks me through it.

When it’s finished I close my eyes and regain my breathing. I stay like that for a while, my hands coming to cover my face.

Before I can even open my eyes again I’m being flipped onto my stomach, my chest being pushed into the couch, ass up. I yelp as I crane my head to look behind me. Ambessa leans over my body so that her head is right beside mine, her bigger frame covering mine. I feel something prod at my backside. I go to look and she turns my head to look at her. She trails kisses along my shoulder blade.

“That first one was for your pleasure,” she says, almost proudly. “These ones are for mine.” 

“What are you- oh my god,” I moan as I feel her strap enter me. When the fuck did she put that on?

My mouth forms an ‘O’ as she sinks deeper into me, inch by inch. I dig my fingers into the couch to keep me grounded. Ambessa leans over and kisses my cheek, laughing softly. 

“I won’t be as kind.”

“Sadist much?” I spit out, my voice coming off weaker than I expected.

A loud smack sounds through the room and I jolt forward, gasping at the sting. Ambessa’s hand rubs over the spot. “I do hate disobedience, and you're far overdue for a lesson,” she leans down to my ear. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

Her weight lifts off me. “If it’s too much, let me know.” As soon as I nod her hips snap forward. A short scream leaves my throat at the action. 

Her pace is so deliberately slow it makes me want to cry. I groan into the couch. I move my hips in sync with her, fucking myself back on her. Her hand comes and grip my hips, halting my movements and I whine.

“You want me to go faster?” She asks, and I nod desperately. “Well who am I to deny you that?” There’s a hint of something in her voice but I couldn’t care less as she does indeed pick up the pace.

I’m a moaning mess as she does. I’m muttering curses and small ‘thank you’s under my breath as I approach my climax faster this time. 

This time when I finish, Ambessa doesn’t stop. I whimper, overstimulated. “T-too much- Ambessa.”

She chuckles behind me as she grunts, speeding up her pace. “This is your lesson for being so damn mouthy. I told you that this wasn’t for your pleasure, it’s for mine. So fucking take it or do you want me to stop?” She slows to a complete stop before pulling out. She waits a solid few minutes waiting for my growing orgasm to subside.

I cry out at the loss of stimulation. “You're such an asshole,” I seethe.

She shrugs before pressing back into me at a brutal pace. “So damn stubborn,” she says.

Ambessa has me a moaning mess in less than a few minutes. She kisses down my back, over my scars. “So fucking pretty. You like this huh? You like me being mean to you.” All I can do is nod and mumble incoherently at her words.

“What happened to that attitude that you had earlier? Am I fucking you too good for you to act out now?” She teases. 

Although she is acting unaffected, her small moans and sighs are telling me she is getting off from this, from me.

I’m getting closer to my 3rd orgasm and her thrusts are growing erratic and inconsistent. “Fuck…” she groans from behind me and I can tell she’s close too. She speeds up and a guttural moan leaves my lips as my body shakes.

She keeps thrusting her hips forward, chasing her own release. I tap her hand on my hip. “Stop Ambessa.”

She quickly pulls out of me and flips me around, concern written on her face. Her hand comes to cradle my cheek. “What’s the matter? Did I-“

I flip her over so she’s on her back before climbing on top of her, sinking down onto her strap. I moan at the feeling, feeling it go deeper than in the other position. Ambessa looks up at me from her spot below me. “Darling you don’t have to-“

“Shut up,” I sigh as I begin to move. She moans at the sight and the friction on her own cunt. I bounce up and down on her strap, moans leaving my lips as I look down at Ambessa watching her face contorted in pleasure. 

I fold over and suck marks into her neck as soft sighs and moans leave her lips. Her body is growing restless and I know she’s close. 

She leans into me, worry etched into her brows. “You need to finish first. I can’t-“

“You can and you will. You better fucking finish, Ambessa I swear to god,” I chuckle as a breathy moan leaves my lips. 

I pick up my pace, my breast moving in time with my bounces. I reach down and roll her nipple between my fingers earning a small sigh from her. 

Her face should be casted in a painting for my eyes only. Her eyes watch the strap as it goes in and out of me. Her moans growing more and more desperate.

“Are you going to come for me, General? Gonna get off to me using you to pleasure myself?”

At my words her arms reach up to me as she pulls me to her chest. She props her feet up, heels digging into the couch as she thrusts up into me. 

“Oh my god- fuck fuck fuck.” I say into her skin. She’s shuddering at this point. “I’m gonna come- fuck.”

My orgasm wracks through my body, our combined moans filling the room. My body goes limp and we stay like this, me on top of her, as we both catch our breath. I raise my head and peck a kiss on her lips.

She moves under me, sliding her strap out of me, I hiss. She chuckles as she lifts me and sets me down to stand. I wobble a little on my feet but her arm is there to steady me. She wraps one of the blankets on the couch around me before wrapping one around herself and then scooping me up.

We walk out of her study and into the hallway and I’m met with Rictus standing on the other end of the dead end hallway. My face reddens as we approach where he is standing against the wall. 

“Why is he down here, Ambessa?” I ask, embarrassed.

She shrugs. “Making sure no one bothered us,” she says nonchalantly.

Someone needs to give him a pay raise. 

We pass by him and he gives a curt nod to Ambessa before looking down at me wrapped in the blanket. 

“Good talk?” He questions with a mischievous, barely there smile.

“Good talk,” I affirm as Ambessa keeps walking.

She takes me to her room and we shower to wash the sex off of our bodies. I dote on her, washing her hair and body even though she insists she can do it herself. She dresses me in her clothes before laying us down in her bed. I lay my head in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. Her hand lazily runs up and down my back, I no longer flinch at her touch as it lulls me to sleep.

For the first time in years I get a full night's sleep.

[ultimatelytired]

Lullaby pt. 2

word count: 10,231

Fandom: Poppy Playtime Pairing: N/A Pronouns: She/Her Relationship: Familial Occupation: Caretaker Ability: Ballerina Music Box

The character takes the appearance of a beautifully crafted music box ballerina figurine made of the toughest porcelain and glass, their clothes made from real fabric that is soft to touch and hair so smooth and silky you'd mistake it for real hair. Attached to their back is a wind up key that continuously spins when they're active and stops when they switch off. If the key is removed they cease to operate until key is returned and they are wound up again. Before CatNap, the character was the one to put the children to sleep with their built-in music box that would constantly be updated with new songs to play to help ease the children to sleep.

Keys:

[F/N]: Female Name

Warnings: the hour of joy, blood, death, all that shit.

"Lullaby" pt. 1, pt.3

finally started using grammarly properly and started cleaning up my shit, i'm kind of happy about the outcome, though grammarly does tend to repeat a couple words.

I originally wanted to make this longer but I'll put in what I want in the next part.

that is all.

It was just like any other day.

Wake up.

Do a headcount during breakfast.

Guide the children to school.

Clean up around Home Sweet Home.

Entertain the Smiling Critters.

Play with the children after their lessons.

And so on and so forth. But a problem arose when she was in the middle of cleaning up Home Sweet Home. It was late at night, and the staff had missed a few things during their shift. Rather than wait for the morning crew, she decided to take care of it herself. Usually, a few lingering night guard employees would patrol Home Sweet Home while she "slept," taking over her job of monitoring the Playcare. But tonight, she was struggling to find them—or at least the one in charge.

"Where the hell is the night guard...?" she muttered to herself, standing on the second floor and looking over the railing to try and spot the man. A quiet breath left her lips when she still couldn't find him. She sighed, frustrated, her nails tapping against the oak beneath her fingers. Forget it—she'd find him later.

She moved on to the third level of Home Sweet Home, where the Smiling Critters resided. Peeking into their rooms, she nodded softly when she saw them all sound asleep. But when she opened CatNap's door—

"H-Help me..." Her eyes widened at the sight of one of the morning staff lying in a pool of their own blood, deep scratch marks gouged along their arms and face. Huh—no wonder she hadn’t seen them earlier that afternoon. Slowly, she lifted her eyes and found CatNap staring at her, shock clear in his gaze. He hadn’t expected her. Some of the red smoke escaped his mouth, though they both knew it didn’t work on her.

"P-Please save me..." the injured woman pleaded, grabbing Ballade's leg and trying to pull herself up. Ballade froze, her mind racing. Why did she have to walk in at this moment? Why now? This woman had been pestering CatNap all day to "open up," insisting she was "there for him." He’d ignored her until she cornered him in his room, and clearly, things had escalated.

What was Ballade going to do? Report this to the higher-ups? Send CatNap to the doctor to fix his violent outburst? Was she scared of him? There was nothing he could do to stop her. Despite being made before the Smiling Critters, Ballade’s model had been designed to handle toys the humans couldn’t control. He took a step back when he saw her glance down at the woman, her hand reaching out. He expected her to help her up—but instead, her hand crushed the woman’s head in one swift motion.

Ballade waited for the twitching to stop before she removed her hand, looking back up at CatNap. She smiled softly. Before she could speak, the sound of footsteps echoed outside the room. She pressed a finger to her lips and gestured for him to stay quiet. Lifting the woman’s body by the neck, she stepped out and shut the door just as the night guard appeared.

"Ah, there you are, Balla—" He stopped, eyes widening at the sight of the dead body. "Why on earth do you have a corpse?" She shrugged.

"I thought she was an intruder and dealt with her the way the Head Executives told me to." He stared for a moment, then shrugged.

"Whatever, as long as you don't do that to me."

"You have a reason to be here overnight. She did not. I didn’t expect anyone but the nightguards to be here—and I know you wouldn’t sneak around like a rodent." She smiled sweetly as the woman’s bones cracked under her grip.

"R-Right... So, uh, what are you going to do with her body?"

"Feed her to Boxy. If the children ask why she’s missing, I’ll just say she’s sick and needs time to recover. Mister Pierre prefers it when I kill the staff—saves him money on wages."

"Sounds like him." The guard nodded. "Need any help?"

"I’ll manage. I’ll be back once the body’s disposed of." With a polite bow of her head, she turned away. Noticing the guard linger near CatNap's door, she held her breath—but he simply shook his head and walked off in the opposite direction. "Perhaps I should thank CatNap. Now I get to see Boxy Boo~ It’s been a while." Tossing the corpse over her shoulder, she made her way down to the prison. The night shift employees didn’t blink an eye when she passed with a body in tow. They knew the drill.

The moment Boxy's cell opened, his eyes peeked through the crack—and then the lid burst open. His tongue lolled out at the sight of fresh meat. She caressed his head gently before tossing the body onto the floor. As he ate, she sat beside him, talking about anything that came to mind. Boxy couldn’t speak, but she knew he was listening—and understanding.

It was hard to leave him, especially when he whined softly for her to stay. But she had other matters to attend to.

"Oh, kitty cat~" she cooed softly as she entered CatNap's room, now dressed in fresh clothes. She had taken longer than expected—mopping up blood was a tedious task. But she was back, and she found him sitting nervously on his bed. "You must be curious about what just happened, hmm?" She didn’t sit beside him, mindful of his nerves. Instead, she knelt before him, waiting patiently.

"... You killed her," he said quietly.

"I did."

"The human guard was fine with it..."

"He was."

"... Have you killed before?"

"Many times." She looked down at her porcelain hands, imagining the blood that had stained them so often. "I am Playcare's security for a reason. So long as I don't step out of line, I can deal with these humans however I like—and they won’t bat an eye. Mister Pierre prefers it. Saves him money and resources." Her voice softened as her hands began to tremble. "But I hate the human employees. They know what we are, what was done to us—and still, they smile while they lead children to their deaths. So yes, when I kill them—when they beg and plead—I enjoy it."

The sadistic glint in her eyes startled CatNap. But then her expression crumbled.

"But then I remember those children. I smile with them, sing with them, play with them—and I lie to them. I give them hope that they’ll leave this hell, knowing they never will. And that makes me just like those adults. I let those kids slip through my fingers." She clenched her shaking hands. "I hate myself for it."

"I don’t think you’re like them," he whispered. "You try to keep us safe. You let me go when I tried to escape." She blinked, startled that he remembered.

"And I am grateful to 1006 for saving your life. But that still isn't enough. I just want them to be free, even if it means I have to stay down here to repent for what I have done." She looked up when CatNap's paws grabbed her hands.

"The Prototype will save us." She blinked in confusion.

"T-The Prototype? But how? Ever since you two tried to escape, he's been put in a high-security cell that only the Head Executives and the Doctor can access. I'm allowed to roam the prison however I like, but even I'm not allowed near it. I-It's impossible." She shivered slightly when he gave a low chuckle.

"He will give us salvation. With him, we will know true freedom." He noticed the way her face broke, even if it was just for a second; he saw the way his words were getting to her. "If we side with the Prototype, he will free us from this prison." Her gaze stayed on him before it drifted to the side.

"I don't care if I have to stay down here, I just want those kids to be free." She licked her lips as she looked at him. "If I help... will he promise to set them free?" He grinned.

"The Prototype will set us all free." She wavered, swallowing thickly as she took her hands back.

"I need to think about this, Theo. If something goes wrong--" He shook his head.

"Nothing will go wrong." She sighed.

"We don't know that. I haven't agreed nor have I declined the thought of siding with the Prototype, but I just need to think about this. If I do agree... I'll come find you, but it'll take me some time." He nodded his head.

"There's no need to rush, [F/N]."

"Thank you, Theo." She smiled, albeit weakly, and hugged him. "I really needed this."

"... If you ever need to talk, I'll be here." She hummed softly.

"You're probably the only one who would understand, but I don't want to burden you with my thoughts." He shook his head.

"It's the least I can do with all the stress you have to carry."

"Hah, then I appreciate it." She scratched under his chin and nuzzled her cheek against his. "I won't say a word about our conversation to anyone, but tell me if anyone else bothers you. I will personally take care of it. Or if you kill anyone, tell me and I'll clean it up. You're not technically allowed to kill anyone, so we'll both get in trouble if that occurs." He let out his own laugh.

"I'll keep that in mind." CatNap perked up when he felt her movements start to lag, so he looked at the wind-up key and saw that it was beginning to slow. Noticing this, he gently nudged her stomach. "You should go back to your stage; you're beginning to slow down."

"Oh, I didn't even notice." She started pushing herself up but struggled a little. She let out a noise when CatNap stood up and let her lean on his body. "Thank you."

"Allow me to help you down..." She hummed softly.

"I appreciate the help." The nightguards didn't question CatNap helping Ballade down the stairs and onto her stage, where he waited for her key to stop turning to finally leave her alone. They all knew that CatNap was her favorite out of all the Smiling Critters and figured if they couldn't find her in her usual spots, she'd be with that colossal cat.

And so the days went on as if nothing happened in the first place. A few of the children did notice that the woman was missing but eventually forgot about it when Ballade said she was at home resting after catching a cold. The Smiling Critters did notice that Ballade and CatNap seemed a lot closer than usual; they also knew that CatNap was her favorite, but whatever occurred that night seemed to have strengthened their bond. Speaking of which, they needed Ballade for something and found both her and CatNap on her stage with a couple of other children drawing.

"What a wonderful blend of colors, sweetheart. Crafty Corn has taught you well during her arts and crafts lessons." Ballade praised as she looked over their art piece, quite impressed by their skill. "You will make a fine artist someday, child." She teasingly pinched their nose and giggled softly when they squealed.

"Stop that!" She held her hands up in surrender before leaning back into CatNap once more, her hand absentmindedly patting his head while her music box played songs that helped him sleep. Her other hand was drawing circles in the air before she finally noticed DogDay, Bobby, and Bubba, where she perked up and waved her hand to greet them. "Good afternoon, children! Care to join us?" She cocked a brow when she saw the three of them look nervous.

"Um, you're not particularly busy, are you?" She looked at the children that were sprawled all over her stage while CatNap nestled close into her back before looking back up at them.

"...Not really, no. Why?" Their reason was so ridiculous it woke CatNap up; even the children were staring in confusion. That's where she found herself staring down at Kickin and Hoppy, who had somehow gotten themselves stuck in the children's playground. "And you did this because you wanted to prove you could fit through the hole?" At least Hoppy had the decency to look shameless; Kickin just huffed as he hung by his waist from out of the hole he was stuck in.

"...Yes." She shook her head.

"You do know that this is a playground built for tiny children, correct?" She chuckled softly when Hoppy covered her face with her ears. "Have anything to say for yourselves?"

"...Help us?"

"No!" She slapped a hand onto her forehead and let out a sigh while the crowd of children laughed when Hoppy and Kickin apologized, which was what she really wanted. The next hour was spent with Ballade trying to get them out without damaging the playground or hurting the two, but both were difficult. The two of them had wedged themselves pretty tight, and she couldn't pull them out without tearing their stitching. She practically had to tear the holes they were in wide enough for them to slip out, but due to this, it destroyed the part of the playground they got themselves stuck in. She then spent the next half hour explaining to a few of the employees what happened while Hoppy and Kickin were on their knees with their arms above their heads as a form of punishment.

"You guys did this to yourselves," Bubba said, Picky and Crafty nodding their heads from behind the elephant.

"We're sorry..." Hoppy and Kickin sighed, DogDay snickering softly.

"The children had a good laugh out of it," Bobby said, pursing her lips as she scratched her cheek.

"Sure, but now they have to close the playground so they can fix what Miss Ballade broke to get them out." They looked back over at her and saw how she pinched the bridge of her nose at what the employee told her, then apologized and consoled the children when they learned they couldn't play on the playground. "Way to go, you two."

"Let's hope Miss Ballade doesn't get in trouble. They don't like it when we break any of the property," Crafty said.

"Perhaps since it was her, she won't get into a lot of trouble."

"Still, I can't help but worry." Hoppy and Kickin felt even worse; because of their competitiveness, they were getting Ballade in trouble. True to her suspicion, Leith reprimanded Ballade for not keeping an eye on the two and for not thinking of any alternatives to prying them free. CatNap was the one to slink over to her side to comfort her but flinched upon noticing that behind her smile-painted face was the look of rage burning in her eyes. Her hand closed into a tight fist, her entire frame trembling with suppressed anger as she watched Leith with Stella and a few other employees walk away. Her eyes snapped over to CatNap when she felt him press himself against her side, his presence the only thing keeping her from lashing out. She took a slow breath, forcing her muscles to relax, but her voice, when she spoke, was tight and low.

"Thank you..." she spoke softly, his ears perked up at her words. "You're really the only person that can calm me down..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, soft enough that only he could hear. The way CatNap lit up had the children thinking that Ballade was going to reward him with something. A broken, rumbling purr rippled from his throat as he rubbed affectionately against her side. She responded by kneeling down, her painted smile still in place, and nuzzled her cheek gently against his fur. The warmth of the gesture seemed so natural, so familiar, that the children watching giggled at the display.

But then her eyes shifted, softening as they landed on Hoppy and Kickin. Their ears drooped, and their expressions were heavy with guilt. Without hesitation, she approached them. They jumped in surprise when her hands landed softly on their heads, then cupped the back of them to pull them into a warm embrace. She felt the way they trembled in her hold, their little bodies overcome with remorse.

"W-We're sorry for getting you in trouble, Miss Ballade..."

"We promise we won't d-do it again..." they whimpered softly, their voices shaking. She shook her head, her grip on them gentle but firm.

"It's fine, it's better if I get in trouble than you lot. They would be far harsher on you than they ever would be with me." The thought chilled her, though she kept her tone calm and comforting. We’re lucky all I got was a talking to and nothing else, she thought bitterly. Pulling back just enough to meet their eyes, she offered a soft, reassuring smile. "As long as you learn from this, all is fine." she sweat dropped when they started crying so she continued to hold them until they eventually calmed down.

The next day, determined to make things right, Hoppy and Kickin approached the playground supervisor and took full responsibility for the damage. They also worked together to organize an impromptu arts and crafts day with Crafty Corn’s help, keeping the children entertained while the playground was being repaired. They even helped with the cleanup and offered to assist in the minor repairs they could manage without making things worse. Ballade couldn't help but be impressed by their initiative to take responsibility—perhaps the two of them were finally learning—until she noticed them bickering again, each claiming the idea had been theirs. She cleared her throat pointedly, and with one sharp look, the two fell silent.

Despite their antics, the effort they put in didn’t go unnoticed. By the end of the week, the playground was on its way to being fixed, and the children had enjoyed a day filled with laughter and creativity. Even Stella, seeing their hard work, made a point to praise them for stepping up. Later, as the day came to an end, Ballade found herself once again sitting with CatNap on her stage, watching the children show off their colorful creations. She let out a soft sigh, her hand absentmindedly stroking behind his ears.

“Maybe they’ll grow out of it one day,” she mused. CatNap chuckled, his purring a gentle vibration against her side.

“Maybe. But where would the fun be in that?” Ballade smiled despite herself, the warmth of the moment washing away the week’s troubles. For now, at least, there was peace—and perhaps just a little bit of hope.

Until—

"We're a head short..." Ballade murmured to herself as she counted the children that exited the school, she grew nervous when she counted again and again but she still ended up short one child. "Even one of the Miss Delight teachers is missing. Where could they have gone?" One of the Miss Delight teachers approached Ballade after hearing her question.

"Miss Ballade, thank goodness I've found you." She raised a brow.

"What is it?" She looked down at the teacher and watched her pace.

"The employees came earlier today and pulled one of the children aside." Ballade's face turned cold at what she said. "We know we're not supposed to interfere when they take the children, but they weren't following the correct procedure, so one of my sisters is stalling them." Miss Delight flinched when she saw the dark look on Ballade's face, her voice dropping.

"Where are they?" she asked, her tone sharp and dangerous.

"If she's stopped them, they should be close to the back."

She nodded once and turned, her pace brisk and her mind already racing through every possible scenario. Her breath quickened as she navigated the halls, thoughts swirling in a dangerous storm. If they were taking a child now, in broad daylight, it was far outside protocol. They were only supposed to remove the children at lights out—when it was easier to explain away their absence by saying they had fallen ill overnight. If they were breaking that rule, it meant that the scientists were eager to experiment on a child instead of having the lucky "chosen child" that was lucky to be adopted.

"Please, don't take Sarah away!" Miss Delight's desperate plea echoed through the corridor, trembling with fear and determination. Ballade’s sharp eyes immediately locked onto the two employees holding the child—Sarah—between them, their grips too firm and their faces too tense. Sarah’s frightened whimpers tugged at something primal inside Ballade. When one of the employees pushed Miss Delight back, Ballade’s vision flashed with fury. Her smile, painted and eternal, hid the storm brewing just beneath the surface.

"Unhand that child." Ballade’s voice was calm—too calm—but the weight of it filled the air like a thunderclap. Every head turned toward her, and the employees visibly stiffened under her gaze.

"Miss Ballade, this is none of your concern—"

"It becomes my concern when my children are frightened," she cut in coldly. She advanced slowly, every step measured, her eyes never leaving theirs. "And it becomes my problem when protocols are ignored." She stopped mere feet from them, her towering presence suffocating in its intensity. "So I will only say this once more: unhand the child. Now." they were quick to heed her words and they let Sarah go, who cried weakly and fell into Miss Delight's embrace.

"I-I was so scared...!" she sobbed softly, Ballade waved her hand and gestured for Miss Delight to take the child and leave.

"I'll handle this, go join the rest of the children and your sisters." she bowed her head, thanking the figurine profusely as she rushed away with the child in hand. When they were both out of sight and she knew they were alone, her fist connected with the wall beside their head and they both jumped in fright when it made a hole. The sharp crack of breaking plaster echoed through the corridor, and dust rained down around them.

"What do you think you were doing, hmm?" she asked, her friendly persona disappearing as she glared down at the two humans, who trembled under her terrifying gaze. Her eyes, usually warm and expressive, had turned cold and razor-sharp, her smile a painted mockery of calm.

"W-We... We were just fo-- following orders." they answered, their voices shaking.

"Oh? Then why didn't you follow the proper procedure?" Ballade’s voice was low and dangerous, like a blade sliding from its sheath. She took a slow, deliberate step forward, and they instinctively backed away. "If you are to take a child, I am to be informed so I don't act the way I am acting right now." The venom in her tone made their knees buckle. "Even so, why aren't you following the correct protocol?"

She advanced again, her presence suffocating and overwhelming. "When you are to take a child in broad daylight, especially when there are other children to witness your actions, you must do it in a way that doesn't cause the child to stress and raise alarms. And yet here you are—manhandling her like some kind of thief." Her voice dropped to a whisper, which somehow made it even more terrifying. "Are you thieves? Are you looking to steal from me? Because I will not tolerate anyone who threatens my children." One of the employees tried to stammer out an excuse, but Ballade slammed her hand against the wall again, cutting them off. The impact left another crack in the plaster, and both humans flinched violently.

"Give me one good reason," she hissed, her eyes burning with fury, "why I shouldn't report you to the Head Executives myself. Or perhaps..." She tilted her head, her smile twisting into something darker. "Perhaps I should take this up with the Doctor. I'm sure he'd love to use you in a few of his experiments." They paled at the mention of the Doctor, their fear now nearly tangible.

"Please... it was a mistake! We—we won't do it again!" one of them whimpered.

"You’re right about that," Ballade snapped. "Because if you ever step out of line again, I promise you—there won’t be enough left of you for anyone to find. Now get out of my sight."

She closed her eyes, taking a slow breath to calm herself before ripping her hands free from the wall, flexing her fingers to shake off the debris. She was confused—why wasn't she informed that they were taking one of the children that day? Why did they show up at the school to remove little Sarah? The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she felt. Something wasn’t right.

Did she do the right thing stepping in the way she did? The answer was clear in her heart—yes. But the weight of what she’d just done pressed heavily on her mind. She figured they were going to inform the higher-ups about her interference, and she knew there would be consequences. But was she really at fault? Was protecting the children wrong? Haa, she was going to get into so much trouble.

Her fingers twitched with leftover adrenaline as she turned to leave, but then she remembered the holes she had made. Her eyes darted around the corridor, scanning for any witnesses. Once she was sure the coast was clear, she grabbed the nearby lockers and, with little to no effort, shifted them just enough to conceal the damage.

Perfect.

She stepped back, brushing dust from her hands and examining her work with a critical eye. No one would know—at least for now.

"Miss Ballade!" her head perked up when she saw DogDay rushing up to her, his ears flopping with every hurried step. His face was a mix of worry and confusion "I heard what happened from Miss Delight! Are you alright?" She waved her hand to dismiss his concern, the painted smile on her face still intact, but her eyes betrayed her unease.

"I am fine, nothing to fret about," she answered calmly, her hand gently patting his shoulder in reassurance. "But I am concerned. Why would they break protocol? The scientists are usually very thorough on how they... take the children. They are never ones to send the employees—never in broad daylight, and never without informing me." Her voice softened, but the tension in it was unmistakable.

"Why would they do that?" she sighed.

"I haven't a clue." She jumped when she heard a cry, so she looked over DogDay and saw little Sarah clinging to Miss Delight's dress, the woman doing her best to comfort the child. Miss Delight's usual calm demeanor was visibly shaken, her hands smoothing over Sarah's hair in a desperate attempt to ease her fear.

"I-I was so scared, Miss Delight! I didn't do anything wrong!" The Smiling Critters, who had heard the commotion, huddled around the little girl, their soft voices trying to soothe her with gentle reassurances. Bobby reached out to pat her shoulder, and Crafty offered one of her handmade paper flowers, but nothing seemed to ease Sarah’s sobs. The moment Ballade approached, Sarah’s wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto her, and without hesitation, the little girl rushed over and threw her arms around Ballade's legs tightly. "I swear I didn't do anything wrong, Miss Ballade!" The heartbreak in Sarah's voice made Ballade’s chest tighten, her smile unable to mask the surge of emotion welling up inside her. She knelt down slowly, gently holding the trembling girl by her arms, brushing a stray lock of hair from Sarah's damp cheek.

"I'm sure you did nothing wrong, little one. But fear not—your friend Miss Ballade Ballerina thwarted their efforts! They won’t be coming to scare you, not anymore." Her voice softened with a warm, protective lilt, but inside, she felt a cold fury still simmering from the encounter. She gasped softly when Sarah threw her arms around her neck, her tiny frame shaking with sobs. Ballade sighed, the sound soft and heavy as her own arms wrapped securely around the child, one hand cradling the back of Sarah’s head as she whispered gentle reassurances. "I'll make sure of it," she promised, her voice low and fierce with quiet determination. She knew those words meant more than Sarah could ever understand.

"T-Thank you, Miss Ballade. I'm glad I can trust you." The girl’s words were muffled against her shoulder, but they struck Ballade harder than any blow. Her breath caught as she felt Sarah nuzzle closer into her embrace, seeking safety and comfort. The weight of guilt settled deeper into Ballade’s mind, cold and unshakable.

She really shouldn't place her trust in her.

CatNap noticed Ballade becoming more distant from herself after the incident with the child as bedtime approached. No one else seemed to pick up on the subtle changes — the way her painted smile looked just a bit more strained, how her eyes wavered every time she looked at the children. The mask she always wore, the one that kept her true emotions hidden, was slipping. She lingered longer when the children hugged her, held them a little tighter, as if trying to memorize the warmth of their small arms around her. Their laughter, their trust — it weighed heavily on her shoulders. They told her how much they loved spending time with her, and each word chipped away at her carefully constructed facade. It had always been easy to fake happiness for their sake, to protect their ignorant bliss… but with each passing day, it became so much harder to keep up the act.

It was during bedtime, after they put the children to sleep and she was walking CatNap back to his room, when he finally understood why.

"I'll do it." his head perked up when she spoke, her face void of any emotion.

"... do what?" her eyes hardened, whether it be at him or herself, he couldn't really tell.

"Whatever you and 1006 need, I'll do it." Ballade's shoulders slumped as her eyes fixated on a picture frame of the children laughing and smiling, not a single bad thought behind their innocent eyes. She stared at it, the image feeling so distant— like something she could never quite reach. She wondered what it would feel like to truly hold them, to feel their warmth, the softness of their little hands when they reached out for her. But she never would. The sensation of touch was something foreign, a mystery she'd never get to experience again in this body. Every embrace she gave them was empty for her, a performance of comfort she could never fully share.

"I can't do it anymore." Her voice broke, trembling with the weight of her words. "It pains me every time I watch those children cry and ask me what they did wrong to be taken away, how they trust me with every inch of their small bodies and I trample all over it just by simply existing." She wanted so badly to feel the way they held onto her, to know the security they believed she gave them. But all she ever felt was the aching hollowness where that connection should have been.

"I hate going to the prison and hearing their anguished cries to be let out, to go home, to be free." Her hands shook at her sides, the phantom feeling of their terrified clinging playing through her mind — sensations she could only imagine. "I hate lying to them, telling them everything will be okay when I know it won’t." she could imagine the sensation of tears welling up in her eyes, though they could never fall since she lacked the proper glands to produce them. "They look at me like I’m their protector, their safe place… and every time one of them disappears, I know I've failed them again." She clenched her fists so tightly her porcelain hands threatened to crack, but even the pain of it was absent. The frustration of that emptiness only made the ache inside her deepen.

Ballade's fingers traced the frame’s edges, her hands trembling as she fought to keep her composure. CatNap watched her quietly, his tail flicking with unease. It was rare to see Ballade like this— so vulnerable, so worn down by guilt and sorrow. He padded closer, pressing his head against her arm in an attempt to offer some comfort.

"They deserve better," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Better than me. Better than this place." CatNap let out a low, broken purr, his eyes flickering with a knowing look.

"Then let's change it," he murmured, his voice soft but resolute. Ballade turned to him, her eyes wide but weak.

"But what if we fail?" he shook his head.

"We won't. With your help, freedom will be in ours hands. The Prototype will make sure of that, I promise." her lip trembled and he'd think she'd start crying but she was unable to, she bit her lip and knelt down to press her forehead against his.

"I don't care what happens to me, CatNap, so long as those kids get to leave this hellish place." Her voice hardened. "I'll side with you and the Prototype if it means those kids get to be free, if it means they don't have to suffer anymore." She turned to face him, eyes burning with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. "Just tell me what you guys are going to do, and I'll be right on your side." she was fully on her knees as she wrapped her arms around CatNap's neck and nuzzled into his head, he returned the affection as a single thought went through his mind.

He had won.

Ever since their conversation to help the Prototype, CatNap observed Ballade closely. He saw how the weight of her decision pressed down on her more with each passing day. There was a newfound desperation in her every action, an urgency that hadn’t been there before—because now there was chance to finally make things right. Now there was a possibility that the children's suffering could finally end, and that chance both strengthened and broke her.

He noticed how she struggled to get by every day, caught between the promise of freedom for the children and the reality of her own helplessness. The knowledge that she could finally save them gnawed at her, but with it came the agony of waiting—waiting for the right time, waiting for the right plan. Every second felt like a betrayal, knowing the children she loved were still at risk.

Ballade’s guilt was killing her. She hated herself for every moment she stood by and did nothing while the children were taken—frightened, confused, and pleading for answers she couldn’t give. She hated the way they trusted her so completely, how they clung to her and sought comfort in her arms when she knew she couldn’t protect them. And worse, she hated how she longed for their touch even though she couldn’t feel it.

That emptiness haunted her. Every time a child’s small hand slipped into hers, every time they hugged her tight, she could only pretend to feel it. She could see their warmth, their affection, but it never reached her. And yet she held onto those moments as if they could somehow fill the void inside her. She clung to their love because it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

"... the Prototype has a plan, [F/N]. But we must wait before we can act on it."

"How long must I wait?"

"I'm sure you can be patient." a weak chuckle escaped her throat when he saw her pout, he nudged his head against her cheek "Our freedom will be guaranteed with you on our side." she nods.

"Just tell me when, and I'll do whatever you two need me to do."

Having Ballade side with the Prototype was the last hurdle in their final plan. She was already well aware that the Prototype was one of the most dangerous experiments to ever come out of the Bigger Bodies Initiative. And though she was no match for a force as powerful and unpredictable as the Prototype itself, Ballade was more than capable of handling CatNap and the other Bigger Bodies. That was her job — not only to care for the children and dispose of any unwanted guests but to apprehend any of the toys that stepped out of line. She’d done it before, and she can most definitely do it again. She remembered the incident with Mommy Longlegs vividly — the frantic way the creature lashed out when the children left the Game Station and moved into Playcare. The hysteria had escalated so quickly that Ballade had been forced to tie Mommy Longlegs' limbs together just to stop her from going on a rampage. It wasn’t the first time Ballade had been made to turn on one of her own, and wouldn’t be the last so long as the toys did their jobs.

The Prototype will be most pleased to learn Ballade has sided with him.

[august eighth 1995, 10.00 am]

Deep breath.

In, and out.

In, and out.

Quell your nerves.

"Ballade, are you alright?" her eyes move down to one of the human counselors and saw the way the woman looked up at her in concern, seemingly noticing she wasn't acting like herself, but Ballade easily masked her unease and smiled.

"Don't worry about me, Miss. Just trying to come up with more ways to entertain the children, the older ones are growing bored of the usual activities I usually plan out. I'm struggling to come up with new things to keep them entertained." the woman laughed as she pats Ballade on the back.

"I'm sure you can come up with something, you're quite creative when it comes to keeping those kids on their toes!" she gave a laugh in response to her words.

"I try my best." she waves her hand goodbye when the woman had to return to the Counselor's Office, missing the way Ballade's eyes turned cold as they observed all the human employees walking around. It was like any other ordinary day within the Playcare, the children were up and escorted to the dining hall for breakfast by the Smiling Critters then guided to the school to proceed with the day. It was only a matter of time before it all begins, and they won't even know what hit them.

".... don't tell me you're chickening out, [F/N]." a bitter laugh escapes her lips when CatNap appeared beside her, she looked down at him and could practically see the eagerness in his eyes "It's almost upon us." she huffed.

"Yes, the day they all reap what they sow. The other Critters are still unaware, right?" he nods.

"They are. They're not nearly as understanding as you, so I was afraid to outright tell them the details about what was going to happen today." he saw the way her shoulders slumped.

"I feel like that it's for the better, Theo. Better to stain our hands than than the others." she let out a breath "Then we're going for plan b?" he nods his head.

"I have already told them to meet us beneath the Playhouse." she closed her eyes and briefly looked back into Home Sweet Home to find the clock and it was only half past ten, he watched her and saw the way she rubbed her arms nervously "Remember, [F/N], we're doing this to secure our freedom. The Prototype is giving us our chance to do right by the children by not only saving them, but ourselves." despite her hesitation, she nodded.

"You're right." she inhaled deeply before they both made their way to the Playhouse, they went through the back to avoid running into any other staff members or children and found the Smiling Critters in the prison, Ballade made sure there was nobody else beneath the Playhouse before entering the room alone.

"Children... something drastic is going to happen in the next half hour, and though I don't want you to participate in what is going to happen, I can't leave you in the dark." Kickin let out a nervous chuckle, his feathered hand rubbing the back of his head.

"W-What do you mean? Does this have to do with what CatNap was yapping about months ago?" she nodded.

"What exactly has he told you?" They looked at each other rather anxiously, Bobby pressing her paws together.

"He mentioned... the Prototype? Saying stuff about how he'll save us." Hoppy nodded.

"He was really cryptic with his words. It kind of freaked me out."

"CatNap was talking about how there will come a time when we will get to take back our lives if we... join the Prototype," Bubba said, his hooves messing with his lightbulb-shaped zipper.

"CatNap wasn't s-serious about us joining the Prototype, right? The staff told us that he was very dangerous," Crafty murmured softly.

"He's been obsessed with that thing for ages. I thought he would have gotten over it years ago," Picky added. DogDay, in turn, gave a forced laugh as he looked up at Ballade. He felt uneasy with how they were all trapped in the cramped room with Ballade blocking their way out. The dimly lit room didn’t help calm his nerves as Ballade looked down at them all with an unreadable expression.

"He wasn't being serious though, right? He was probably just trying to scare us! He wouldn't really consider joining hands with that experiment." He took Ballade by the hand and looked up at her for some sort of reassurance. "If you're talking to us about this, then that means CatNap brought this up with you as well. He wasn't being serious about helping the Prototype, right? You talked him out of it, right?" They all looked up at her eagerly and saw the way she couldn't meet their eyes.

"M-Miss Ballade?" When she took a step forward, they felt a chill run down their spines when they saw the look in her eyes.

"The Prototype will set us free," she spoke with a rather eerie voice. She took DogDay's paw and squeezed it, a look of desperate and conflicted expression on her face. "He said that if we help him, we'll be saving the orphans from being killed."

DogDay yanked his paw back, stepping away as if burned. "You... you're siding with the Prototype?" His voice was trembling, his wide eyes filled with disbelief.

Ballade flexed her hands, her painted smile a stark contrast to the pain in her eyes. "I didn’t, initially," she whispered. "But I’ve grown tired of seeing so many children dying at the hands of the scientists — and I let it all happen because I couldn't do anything about it. If we help him, he promises that he'll set them free... He’ll set you free! Don't you understand? If siding with the Prototype means we get to end this madness, then so be it."

The room fell into a suffocating silence.

"No," Hoppy whispered, her ears flattened against her head. "No, this isn’t right… You—You can’t believe him!"

"The Prototype is a monster!" Bobby cried. "He’s dangerous — the humans told us so!"

"And the humans lie!" Ballade snapped, her voice cracking as emotion bled through. "They hurt us! They hurt the children! How many more have to suffer before we fight back?!"

"Not like this," DogDay said softly, shaking his head. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "Not like this, Miss Ballade…" they stare up at her in terror as her shoulders deflated, she let out a defeated breath as she lowered her head.

“Then... you leave me no choice.” Ballade’s voice was heavy with regret as she stepped to the side, one hand reaching for the doorknob behind her. It was then that they noticed the red smoke seeping from beneath the doorframe. When she turned the knob and pulled the door open, the thick, eerie mist flooded into the room, swirling around their feet. CatNap stepped in silently, his eyes gleaming with purpose.

“I can’t have you stopping us,” Ballade continued, her voice quiet but resolute. “Nor telling the adults what you’ve learned.” As the door clicked shut behind CatNap, the red smoke spread, filling the room like a creeping tide.

“W-What are you doing?” Kickin’s voice wavered, panic rising.

“Why are you doing this, Ballade?!” Bubba cried out, fear evident in his eyes.

One by one, they succumbed. The red smoke took them swiftly, their bodies crumpling to the floor as the strange gas overtook them. Ballade stood still, taking a deep breath—unaffected—as the others collapsed around her. Only DogDay resisted, his knees buckling as he fought to stay conscious, his teeth clenched.

“Please... don’t...” he whispered, his vision blurring.

But it was futile. As his strength gave out and he began to fall, Ballade caught him, cradling him gently in her arms. For a moment, she held him there, her grip firm but careful. When she pulled away, her fingers brushed against his face, cupping his cheeks with a heartbreaking tenderness.

“I’m doing this for your own good,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You’ll forgive me for this when it’s all over... when you see what we’ve done was to save you.”

DogDay’s hand gripped her shoulder weakly, his eyes pleading—but then his strength faded completely, and his body went limp. Ballade closed her eyes, forcing herself to swallow the guilt rising in her throat. With methodical care, she gathered the others, dragging their unconscious forms into their individual cells. The sound of the locks clicking into place echoed in the still air, and she stood in the silence that followed, her heart heavy.

For a long moment, she lingered at the door, her hand resting on the cold metal.

“You did what you could, [F/N],” CatNap said softly behind her. “I’m sure they’ll thank you when this is all over.”

Ballade clasped her hands together tightly, the motion more to steady herself than anything else. “I just hope... my judgment isn’t wrong.” She looked down at CatNap, her eyes sincere but filled with doubt. “The Prototype will uphold his promise... right? The orphans will be set free... right?”

She didn’t trust the Prototype—how could she?—but she trusted CatNap. And CatNap believed in him. That was the only reason she was still standing here.

The only reason she hadn’t turned back.

"The doctors say he's dangerous, but he wants what's best for us all." this was enough to reassure her, she reached down and ruffled his head.

"If you say so." she takes another breath to calm herself one last time "We should probably go, it's almost time." he nods.

"The Hour of Joy is almost upon us." she chuckled as she laced her fingers together and pushed them forward, hearing her joints crack under the pressure.

"Let's get to work."

There were many toys that the Prototype managed to recruit to his cause, each one with their own grudges and reasons for joining his orchestrated rebellion throughout the entirety of Playtime Co. From Huggy Wuggy, stationed menacingly within the main lobby with his sharp-toothed grin and cold, unblinking eyes, to Mommy Longlegs lurking within the Game Station alongside the ever-watchful Mini Huggies, waiting with predatory patience for their signal to strike. In Playcare, the heart of the children's refuge, CatNap and Ballade stood as the most dangerous of his allies—each powerful in their own right, each burdened with their own twisted sense of duty and guilt.

Even Miss Delight, the ever-cheerful face of comfort for the orphans, was drawn into this uprising, her tears of joy and sadness masking the deep-seated resentment she bore toward the human employees. And then there were the mini Smiling Critters—once innocent and carefree, now caught between loyalty and fear. They hadn’t yet chosen their sides, and that hesitation made them dangerous liabilities.

The Prototype extended a hand to all the toys who had suffered at the hands of the human employees, promising them more than just vengeance. He offered them freedom—freedom from the torment of their artificial existence, from the chains of servitude and the horror of seeing the children they loved and protected dragged away, never to return. It was a chance to end the cycle of pain and finally reclaim their lives from those who had treated them as nothing more than tools and experiments.

EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM EFFECTIVE 8/8/1995 11:00:00 EST

Playtime Company

Issue A

WORK FORCE DANGER ALERT

"The following message is for all Playtime Co. employees.

At 11:01AM, Eastern Standard Time, an unknown hostile force declared present within the Playtime Co. facility.

Personnel are to begin enacting emergency evacuation protocols immediately.

Leave all personal belongings.

Do not engage with any hostile individuals.

If no exit path is available, seek shelter in a hidden location.

Use blankets or pillows to cover your body, and remain silent.

Do not look through any windows.

Do not open doors for any individuals.

Do not make eye contact--

...

...

Open the doors now. The Hour of Joy has arrived."

It started with the alarms—shrill, blaring cries echoing through the factory like the wailing of lost souls. The lights flickered violently, plunging corridors into a maddening dance of shadow and flame. In the main lobby, Huggy Wuggy descended upon the unsuspecting staff with terrifying speed, his massive frame moving with unnatural grace as his gleaming teeth tore through the chaos. Screams filled the air, but no one escaped his relentless pursuit. Blood painted the walls, limbs lay scattered across the floor, and the air reeked of iron and fear.

At the Game Station, Mommy Longlegs played with her prey. Her elastic limbs snaked through vents and rafters, dragging terrified employees into the darkness. The Mini Huggies scurried in swarms, their tiny forms overwhelming anyone who crossed their path. The once lively station became a house of horrors, filled with echoes of laughter twisted into something monstrous. Flesh was torn from bone, and the floors were slick with blood as the station became a macabre playground.

In Playcare, it was no better than the rest of the factory.

Outside the Playhouse, the halls of Playcare ran red. CatNap drifted through the corridors like a phantom, his red smoke spilling into every crevice. The humans never stood a chance—one by one, they collapsed, some peacefully, others choking on the thick haze, their bodies hitting the ground with lifeless thuds. Ballade followed in his wake, her hands already stained with blood. She moved with cold purpose, securing the orphans first, locking them away where no harm could reach them.

But the carnage followed her.

The human employees were torn apart, their bodies left in grotesque displays of violence. One counselor she had shared a conversation earlier in the morning with lay sprawled against a wall, her throat crushed that her head lolled unnaturally to the side. Another staff member—someone who had once laughed and joked with the children—clawed at his own face, the red mist driving him into a frenzy of madness before his body finally gave out.

As the hour stretched on, the factory drowned in chaos. The Prototype’s plan unfolded perfectly, and the rebellion tore through Playtime Co. like wildfire. Yet amid the destruction, doubt gnawed at Ballade’s resolve. The line between savior and monster blurred, and she wondered if the price of freedom was too steep to bear.

...

...

"Haaa..." It was only hours after the Hour of Joy had commenced when Ballade sat on one of the benches within Playcare, her head thrown back over the backrest while she spread her legs out. "That took longer than I expected," she muttered, as blood slowly dripped down her unclenched fists. The metallic scent of it clung heavily to the air, a stark contrast to the usual warmth and joy that once filled this place. She didn’t get exhausted easily, but after hours of nonstop killing, her body finally felt the weight of it.

She sat up and let her body rest against her knees, more blood sliding down her face and legs, staining her once-pristine porcelain skin a deep, ghastly red. The sticky sensation of it had long since lost its shock — now it just felt like part of her.

CatNap emerged from the shadows, his colossal frame also splattered with crimson, though his breathing was steady and composed. "Most of the humans are gone," he reported, his voice light, almost pleased. "Playcare’s finally quiet. Peaceful."

But it wasn’t peaceful. It was too quiet. The children’s laughter, the chatter of the Smiling Critters — it was all gone. In its place was an eerie stillness, broken only by the distant, occasional drip of blood hitting the cold floor. Ballade’s eyes flickered toward the Playhouse where the Smiling Critters still lay unconscious, and her heart twisted. They hadn’t stirred once since she and CatNap had gassed them. She told herself it was for their own good — they wouldn’t have been able to handle the truth of what needed to be done. Still, the silence behind that door haunted her more than the screams of the humans ever could.

"They’ll thank us," CatNap said softly, as if reading her mind. "When the dust settles, when the children are free— they’ll understand." Ballade nodded slowly, but the doubt gnawed at her. She looked down at her blood-soaked hands, wondering if there would ever truly be an end to the nightmare they’d created in pursuit of salvation.

"Cleaning this all up is going to take so much time..." she said as she looked around and saw all the bodies "I don't suppose we can leave this to the other toys, hmm?" the look CatNap gave her said otherwise, she let out a defeated sigh.

"The Prototype wants us to drag all the bodies down below." CatNap's voice was low, the eerie silence of Playcare amplifying his words. Ballade rubbed her face in exhaustion, smearing more blood across her porcelain skin.

"I can only guess why." Now that all the humans were gone, their connection to the outside world was severed. Supplies would stop coming. They'd have to make do with what was left. "I'm sure there are still some humans roaming around, hiding."

"We got all the ones that weren’t fast or smart enough to hide," he replied. "We should probably head to the labs first before dragging all the bodies."

"Fine by me. I’m not up for more labor after what just happened. Besides, we can check on the others down below to see if they’re done. There were a lot more humans in the prison compared to Playcare." She chuckled, shaking her head as she noticed the eagerness in his eyes.

"Let’s go," he urged, nudging his head into her side. She gently pushed him off as they walked toward the Gas Production Zone.

"We’re going, we’re going," she muttered. Their heavy footsteps echoed against the cold floor with every step, the sound bouncing off walls now stripped of the laughter that once filled the air. They maneuvered over the countless bodies they’d eventually have to clean up, the stillness around them almost deafening.

Reaching the elevator, Ballade gestured for CatNap to step in first. She followed closely behind, waiting for the familiar lurch as it started to descend. But instead of standing still, she left the control panel and leapt down to join him, landing softly beside him. Thanks to her body, she could scale great heights and drop from any distance without pain or injury. No matter how far the humans ran, she would always find a way to get to them. No matter where they hid, there would be no escape.

On their way down to the labs, they came across several toys—some still in the throes of violence, others feasting on the remains of the security staff. The air was thick with the coppery scent of blood and the grotesque sounds of tearing flesh. Some toys played with their victims' remains, giggling in twisted delight as they dismembered what was left. Others stood over the bodies like sentinels, eyes wide with an unhinged kind of glee. Blood painted the walls in wild, sweeping strokes, turning once sterile corridors into grotesque art.

Most of the toys paid them no mind, too absorbed in their grisly work. A few glanced their way, tensing as if ready to strike, but the moment recognition flickered in their eyes, they stood down. Even the most frenzied among them knew better than to cross paths with Ballade and CatNap.

The two of them had a reputation. CatNap was the Prototype's most loyal follower, his name whispered with both respect and fear. And Ballade—Ballade was the Head Executive’s personal bodyguard, an enforcer who obeyed their every command without question. As they ventured deeper through the prison towards the labs, every so often, distant, inhuman screams echoed from below—a reminder of what waited for them at the bottom. The air felt heavier, saturated with the scent of blood and chemicals as they made it to the lower labs. The walls bore deep gouges, the aftermath of something strong and enraged. And in the far distance, they could hear it—metal scraping against metal, a slow, deliberate sound that set their teeth on edge.

"Hmm?" Ballade twisted her head to the side when she heard a sudden clatter, sighing to herself when she spotted a scientist trying to hide but freaked out when he realized he had been spotted "Go on without me, I'll catch him before he locks down the labs. Besides, the Prototype scares me." she gestures for him to go on before turning and chasing after the scientist, catching up to him was easy but due to the fact he ran away he had led her to more humans that were hiding out. Ballade moved through the dim corridors, the scent of blood and metal still thick in the air. She had just finished tracking down the stray scientists, their cries cut short in a single, efficient movement. Wiping her hands on her already bloodied dress, she started back toward the lower labs where the Prototype waited.

As she approached the entrance, the sound of voices reached her ears. She slowed her steps, curiosity and caution guiding her closer.

"…and once the remaining children are secured, we can begin the next phase," the Prototype’s voice was calm and calculating, every word measured as he used the stolen voices of those who have spoken to him. "Their resilience makes them perfect subjects. We’ll have ample opportunities to push beyond the limits of what this facility dared to achieve."

Ballade froze. Her heart—if it could beat—would have stopped. She stepped closer, unnoticed, her breath caught.

"Ballade..." CatNap’s voice was hesitant. "Is not going to let this go. She wants them to be free..."

"Freedom," the Prototype interrupted smoothly, "is a matter of perspective. You see, true freedom lies in purpose—fulfilling the potential we were created for. These children… they are the key to unlocking evolution. Their sacrifice will pave the way for something far greater than any of us."

Ballade’s stomach twisted violently. The world around her blurred at the edges, a rising wave of nausea and panic threatening to drown her. Her hands curled into trembling fists, slick with the blood of those she had already killed, and the weight of those lives now pressed down on her like lead.

"But—"

"Do not let sentiment cloud your judgment," the Prototype’s tone darkened. "You’ve seen how fragile they are, how easily they break. Would you rather they die in fear and ignorance? Or serve a higher calling? In this way, their suffering gains meaning."

She couldn’t listen anymore.

"You lied to me," Ballade spoke, albeit a whisper, but it let her presence be known as she stepped into the lab. Both figures turned toward her. CatNap’s eyes widened in guilt; the Prototype merely regarded her with cool detachment.

"[F/N]—" CatNap started, but she shook her head as she looked towards the monstrosity that was the Prototype.

"You told me we were doing this for them," she whispered, her voice shaking with panic. "To save them. Not… not this." She gestured wildly. "Not to turn them into experiments!"

"Their freedom," the Prototype said, unflinching, "comes through transcendence. Through transformation. It is the only true escape from the frailties of their existence. You of all creations should understand this."

"I understand," she spat, stepping forward, "that you used me." Her cold eyes locked onto CatNap. "And you let him."

"I… I thought—" CatNap stammered, ears flattened.

"No." She shook her head, the enormity of her mistake crashing over her. The faces of the children flashed behind her eyes—their laughter, their trust—and the image shattered under the knowledge of what she had condemned them to. "I made a mistake to trust you." she shakes her head before turning on her feels and leaving, ignoring the way CatNap called out to her as she hurried back to Playcare.

This was a mistake.

I made a mistake.

I shouldn't have trusted them.

I shouldn't have trusted him.

But it's too late.

From one hell to another, the Prototype's in control now.

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

Why do so many fanfics have wangxian act so shameless around each other in public and around the kids? Fanfics tend to portray them acting so shamelessly until everyone around them either knows what they're doing in the bedroom or are really tired of them acting like this in public. Is this how they really act in the novel?

I think this may be due to fandom running with this particular scene:

After entering the tavern, they took a seat in an inconspicuous corner, and the waiter came over to greet them. He saw the sword at Lan Wangji’s waist, then the flute at Wei Wuxian’s. Because of their appearance and bearing, he couldn’t help but connect them to the pair who had been the subject of all the most heated talk recently. But after staring at them intently for a while, he noticed that the customer dressed in white was not wearing the Lan Clan’s forehead ribbon. Ultimately, he was left unsure of their identities.

Wei Wuxian asked for liquor while Lan Wangji ordered a few dishes. With one hand propping up his cheek and the other toying with a snow-white forehead ribbon under the table, Wei Wuxian listened to his deep voice as he read off the dishes. A wide grin was plastered on his face.

Once the waiter was gone, he commented, “So many spicy dishes. Can you eat them?”

Lan Wangji picked up the teacup on the table and took a sip. “Sit properly,” he said evenly.

“There’s no tea in there,” Wei Wuxian pointed out.

Lan Wangji filled the cup, then raised it to his lips again. After a while, he repeated,

“…Sit properly.”

"Am I not? It’s not like I’m propping my feet up on the table like I used to,” Wei Wuxian said.

Lan Wangji could no longer bear it. “Even so, do not put them elsewhere.”

Wei Wuxian was confused. “Where did I put them?”

“…”

"Lan-er-gongzi has so many demands. Why don’t you teach me how to sit properly?”

Lan Wangji put down the teacup and cast him a look. He was about to rise in a whirl of sleeves in order to teach him a very proper lesson indeed—but just then, a table at the center of the main hall burst into a chorus of roaring laughter.

Wei Wuxian likes being innocuously dirty towards Lan Wangji. But it's not anywhere near "everyone knows". We also have to remember when it came to xiao-Mianmian she even tells her parents Wei Wuxian was the "bad man" because he was being more openly dirty than Lan Wangji was, despite their little role play being on both ends . Wei Wuxian really likes being seen as the debauched next to Lan Wangji's prim and pretty self in public.

It's why Wei Wuxian jokes about no one being any the wiser that Lan Wangji can be just as much of a pervert and it not seeming to be fair. They fuck with Lan Qiren by purposefully being loud with their bed activity to annoy him and he can't do anything what with them being in their own home and married. And there is Wei Wuxian sitting in Lan Wangji's lap in front of Lan Sizhui (who they are close to so really no need for much proprietary). But the thing here when it comes to them acting as such, is because they are around designated family with those instances.

If they mess around outside of the discerning eye it's not any more radical than any other couple that plays around. There's just a skewed imagining of how couples can and cannot act with it veering into heavy purity politics despite these two acting like any other couple that's not exactly hiding they're a couple. We have the Inn lady in Yunmeng encouraging a one room after they both hesitated about one room or two room question and them HIDING they broke the tub because they had sex.

Fandom likes to think the characters in novel are a lot more discerning of Wangxian's relationship than they actually are. No one in the novel can just tell they have a thing for each other strangers or not. Only ones that encourage them or third wheel are the juniors and Wen Ning. They go on a date night in Yunmeng and it's not something necessarily out of the ordinary or remarked on in the extras (or hell even after the siege and it's Jiang Cheng getting his homophobia bit on and acting like they're being purposely disrespectful despite doing nothing out of the ordinary).

So no, it's an overwrought trope this fandom loves.

[yanderes-galore]

Toga Himiko (MHA) With a quirkless darling 🪲 [Shiny Bug Anon]

I'm not quite sure how different she'd be... but you'd be more vulnerable to her I suppose. Sorry if it's short or OOC... I was trying so hard to push through writer's block and struggled to find ways she'd be different than the other HCs I did for her.

My General Yandere Himiko Toga HCs Here.

Yandere! Himiko Toga with Quirkless! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Stalking, Blood/Blood kink (?), Drinking of blood, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Knife play (?), Marking, Sadism, Masochism, Murder, Kidnapping, Isolation, Biting, Forced "relationship".

You being quirkless, as expected, puts you in a worse position than if you had a quirk.

Toga has always had a thing for crushes bleeding.

If you had a quirk, this would happen due to fights you get into.

However, you have no quirk.

Which I feel just makes it easier for Toga to prey on you.

After all, you can't fight back.

Which makes it easier for her to use one of her best knives to mark you.

Toga would most likely want her obsession to have some fight.

She's unpredictable and wants to toy with her obsession.

I don't think you being quirkless changes much.

You two would have to meet a different way, like maybe you got injured in a LoV attack?

The sight of you bleeding is enough to catch her attention.

Just like a shark.

Toga, while capable of some care, enjoys her obsession with bleeding.

This is of course due to how her blood quirk works.

That type of quirk tends to make people a little... unstable.

Poor you is rushed to get medical aid by a hero...

Only for you to gain a stalker in the process.

Just because you're quirkless doesn't mean Toga won't adore you.

Her twisted sense of love isn't based on if you have a quirk or not.

She just felt she had to have you when she saw you.

Toga is obviously a handful.

Poor you isn't even a hero, just someone caught in an unfortunate situation in a world not meant for you.

To you Toga is probably the equivalent of a serial killer.

She stalks you, has an obsession with blood, and can easily pretend to be someone you know.

All she needs is enough blood to transform using her quirk, after all.

Her quirk is rather useful to get close to you, too.

After all, she can blend into your friend group.

Toga is going to force herself into your life because she's infatuated.

She gets obsessed quickly.

Toga would find a quirkless obsession easy to deal with.

After all, she just needs to outsmart you to get you in her clutches.

I don't doubt that she'd kill a friend or lover of yours to lure you.

She'd corner them, holding a blade to their throat.

It would be so easy for her to kill them, collecting at least a cup of their blood to use.

She's a villain who's determined to get your attention, it isn't farfetched to imagine she'd get rid of them.

Then she'd drink their blood... invite you to their home...

Only to grab you for herself.

Toga doesn't see or care how wrong this is.

It's known she wants a connection to someone, even if it isn't normal.

She just makes her own normal.

Toga would kidnap you and force you into a 'relationship'.

She calls you cute and attractive... and admits you'd look much better covered in red.

She won't kill you, but you worry she will sometimes.

Toga seems like the type to tie you to a chair with ropes, isolating you in a room until she comes to visit.

She's either very hyper and affectionate, or oddly serious as she stalks towards you.

Toga often collects... memorabilia that reminds her of you.

Be that some piece of clothing, or even hair...

She takes it.

That and of course she uses vials to store your blood like some sort of good luck charm.

Toga's visits with you are often brutal.

She'll do things like trace a knife across your skin, maybe even let the metal bite in a little.

Toga would like to mark you, and she doesn't even need to find special cuffs to prevent you from leaving!

She just needs to lock you away... then she can slice and bite as she pleases.

Toga is a sadistic who has a strange way of loving you.

She bites you, licks your blood from her cuts, and murmurs about how cute you are...

You yell and scream, asking who the hell she is and for her to get away...

But she ignores you, merely saying she's your new girlfriend and she's loving you!

To her, consuming your blood is love....

While most of the time she ends up tormenting her obsession, of course there's times she's oddly affectionate.

When you're healing she cuddles you, forcing your attention on her.

She never seems to use your blood to become you.

Maybe she does it out of sight though?

It would be either to keep up with appearances... or maybe "becoming" you fuels her obsession.

Either way, the most being quirkless does is put you in an unfair scenario.

You have no way to fight against her unless a hero finds you.

The LoV don't bother Toga, you're harmless and aren't their business.

Plus, if you keep her placated, they don't have to.

Unfortunately, killing you might be a mercy.

Yet you know Toga wouldn't do that...

She loves you too much.

She enjoys biting you and drinking you... She likes to scare you... She likes to force you into giving her 'love'.

You're too good to get rid of...

As a quirkless anomaly in this world, you have no choice but to wait for escape, even if it breaks you since she's stronger than you.