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hcneymooners · 1 day ago

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⋆ angel of mine; i’m probably gonna think about you all the time.

biker!sevika x stripper!chubby!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: when you get news of your grandmother’s declining health, you pack what’s left of your life in miami and begin to head home. on the way you meet enigmatic stranger sevika, who gives you a ride.

wc: 10k

cw: age difference! stripper!reader, chubby!reader, fem!reader, mommy issues, implied melvika, implied melvika x reader, strangers to lovers, roadtrips, biker!sevika, resolved sexual tension, codependency, found family, dysfunctional families, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, exhibition kink (implied), degradation, name-calling, dom/sub, dom!sevika, sub!reader, hyperfemme!reader, lowkey sugar mommy!sevika.

notes: you can definitely tell i’m southern in this piece. i love the south despite it not loving me (black, sapphic, & female) back. so much of florida contains my family and love though i left it. i hope that comes through. i’m really proud of this and i hope you enjoy. so sorry for any typos i may have missed. let me know what you think & if you want a full melvika x reader pt. ii ! i love you. 𓆉⋆｡˚⋆❀ 🐚🫧𓇼 ˖°

playlist: lana born to die: paradise album. listen here.

The white teeth of Miami were always going to eat you alive.

That’s what your grandmother used to say, her voice crackling over the phone, sweet but certain, the way only old women could be. She didn’t say it to scare you—just to remind you that the city, for all its glitter and heat, had sharp edges. She was a lioness, and you were good meat.

You’d felt it too, walking barefoot along the highway, heels swinging in one hand and your purse in the other. The sunset was dying behind you, streaks of cotton candy pink, baby blue, and tangerine smeared across the horizon like someone had finger-painted the sky in haste.

Your cheeks still sparkled faintly under the fading light, remnants of glitter you hadn’t scrubbed off from work. It clung stubbornly, refusing to let go. You’d braided the front of your hair into two plaits that went straight back, falling apart in the middle to join the rest of the mass—wavy and tinsel-streaked. It was your “mermaid hair” as your younger sister loved to call it. You blinked heavily, your 60s-style lashes dragging their soft bodies across your plush cheeks.

The ache in your feet was grounding though, pulling you out of the haze of the club—the strobe lights, the bass that rattled in your ribs, the haze of too many eyes on you.

You’d gotten through the night, but just barely. Grandma’s sick. That had been the thought looping in your head as you swayed under the lights, pretending to be something more desirable than tired. Your mother had called, her voice small and broken. She wouldn’t tell you where she was. I’ll be home tomorrow, you’d promised anyway and then you climbed back on the stage.

You’d scraped together what you could tonight, but not enough for both a cab and the medicine your grandmother needed. The last bus out of town was fucked, something about a technical failure. So, you walked, the stretch of highway endless, the heat still radiating off the asphalt like it was sinking into hell.

You were so distracted by both your raging anxiety and oncoming hunger that the headlights caught you off guard. A single beam at first, low and flickering, until the growl of the engine grew louder, sharper, swallowing the silence. You turned instinctively, lifting a hand to wave—desperation bleeding through the gesture.

The motorcycle slowed. It wasn’t just a machine; it was an extension of her.

Its rider was tall and broad-shouldered, her presence filling the space before she even spoke. A thick, short braid of dark hair hung over her shoulder, catching the light like polished onyx, and her face was all hard angles—sharp jaw, strong brow, a faint scar cutting through her upper lip. She leaned forward slightly, resting her weight on a prosthetic arm that gleamed silver in the twilight. Her eyes, cold at first glance, raked over you, measuring.

For the millionth time that night, you became painfully aware of your appearance. You hadn’t had much time to change before rushing out, so you were stuck in a turquoise spaghetti-strap tank that clung uncomfortably to your skin and a pair of low-rise grey sweatpants, the faded mall-brand logo on the hip barely holding on.

Your purse—a tiny baby pink crossbody clutch—was stretched to its limit, struggling to close over your overstuffed Polo Assn. wallet, its dark brown leather warped by thick stacks of crumpled bills and nearly maxed-out credit cards.

A single white earbud perched in your left ear, the mile-long wire snaking under the loose neckline of your tank and into your hands, where your phone gleamed faintly in the glare of her headlights. Glittery gold, covered in 3D bubble stickers of pale pink and cream roses—your little sister’s handiwork.

Between the heat of the phone and the plastic of the case, you’d tucked a Polaroid: you, your sister, and your aunt, all dolled up in perfect makeup and hoop earrings, the three of you grinning wide enough to make the moment feel permanent. Behind the photo, folded neatly, was a note.

The faintest whiff of smoke clung to you, softened by bellini, cherry, and peach. You’d tried hard to be sweet, always sweet, but it wasn’t enough to cover the night’s work. Especially not tonight.

“You lost?” she asked, her voice gravelly, low, like the rumble of her engine hadn’t entirely faded.

“Not lost,” you said, voice softer than you intended. “Just… trying to get home.”

You were always trying to go home.

She raised a brow, glancing at your bare feet and the glitter still dusting your face. “Long walk.”

You shrugged, exhaustion pulling at the edges of your face.

“No choice.”

For a moment, she just stared at you, her expression unreadable, before she nodded toward the seat behind her.

“Hop on. I’ll get you there.”

You hesitated, your gaze lingering on the gleam of her prosthetic, the way it contrasted with the calloused hand gripping the throttle.

“What’s your name?” you asked, finally, your voice quieter now.

She huffed faintly, tilting her head. “Sevika. And you?”

You gave her your name, your voice carrying the weight of gratitude but a lack of trust. You weighed your options—you had none—and decided that you could only hope she wasn’t insane.

You thought of the note in your phone case.

“Lord, I confess i want the clarity of catastrophe but not the catastrophe. Like everyone else, I want a storm I can dance in. I want an excuse to change my life. Lord if I say bless the cold water you throw on my face, does that make me a costume party. Am I greedy for comfort if I ask you not to kill my friends if I beg you to press your heel against my throat - not enough to ruin me, but just so I can almost see your face.” (x.)

Then, without another word, you climbed onto the bike, your fingers brushing against her shoulders as you steadied yourself.

The engine roared, and the wind hit your face, carrying you forward into the night. You bent your neck, tucked your head into her back, and began to pray.

❀

You woke to a soft hand on your skin.

“Hey. You up?”

The words were quiet, almost careful, but they pulled you from the thin edge of sleep. For a moment, you were disoriented. The ceiling above you was unfamiliar, white with faint water stains bleeding outward like bruises. The couch beneath you creaked as you shifted, and smelled of saltwater and lavender. There was a thin blanket draped over your shoulders but it felt impossibly heavy, anchoring you in place.

Sevika was leaning over you, her face shadowed but sharp in the dim light spilling from another room. Her hand lingered on your hip, her touch surprisingly gentle.

“Come on,” she said, her voice low and gravelly, rasping against the quiet. “Mel wants to meet you.”

“Mel?” you asked, your voice still thick with sleep.

“She lives here. She’s… persistent,” Sevika said with a dry edge, stepping back to give you room to sit up. “And she’s got a thing for taking care of strays. Don’t worry, she’s nice. Nicer than me, anyway.”

The apartment was small, but the stomach of it was softened by a clear effort to make it feel like home.

The walls were painted a pale cream, though the paint was peeling in the corners, and the floors were scuffed wood. The furniture was mismatched, but there was a warmth to it—a knitted throw slung over the back of the couch, a row of half-burned candles on the coffee table, the faint scent of coconut and vanilla lingering in the air.

The windows were open, letting in the salt-thick breeze of the early morning, and a line of photos pinned to the wall swayed slightly, the string barely holding on.

Mel appeared in the doorway to what must have been the bathroom, her figure backlit by the soft, yellow glow. She was taller than you’d expected, her frame lithe but strong, and her black braids pooled over her shoulders like an oil spill, gleaming in the dim light. She held a cherry red hairbrush in one hand and a small bottle of lotion in the other, her brown skin catching the light beautifully.

“You’re awake,” she said, her voice rich but cautious. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, warm but searching.

Most people tended to treat you this way. It was as if you were a scared animal and they were trying to coax you in.

You nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

“Yeah. Sorry—I didn’t mean to intrude here.”

“You didn’t,” Mel said quickly, stepping closer. Her tone softened, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Sev doesn’t bring people home unless she has a reason. You must’ve needed it.”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Your gaze flicked to Sevika, who leaned against the wall, her arms crossed over her broad chest, her prosthetic glinting faintly in the soft light. She was watching the two of you, her expression unreadable.

“I’ve seen you before,” Mel said suddenly, drawing your attention back to her. Her smile turned wistful. “At The Siren, right?”

The mention of the club sent a ripple of recognition through you. You nodded slowly, and Mel’s expression shifted, her eyes softening further.

“I thought so,” she murmured. “You helped me once, in the bathroom. I was… having a bad night. You were so sweet.”

The moment came back in pieces. Her face streaked with tears, her voice trembling as she spoke about her mother, about leaving home. You’d handed her a tissue, touched her shoulder lightly, said something comforting.

“I remember,” you said softly, your voice catching in your throat.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Mel said, her gaze steady. “But I’m glad you did.”

She knelt in front of you, holding up the brush. “Let me help you. You’ve had a long night.”

You hesitated, but something in her expression, in the calm warmth of her voice, made you nod. She guided you to the bathroom, which was small and tidy, the mirror rimmed with salt stains and seashells.

As she brushed your hair, her touch was careful, her fingers grazing your scalp like she was afraid of breaking something fragile.

“You’ve got beautiful hair,” she said softly, almost to herself.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice faint. “You smell nice.”

Her laugh was quiet, and you felt the warmth of it root deep in your chest.

“Coconut oil,” she said, but there was a blush creeping into her cheeks. “Mixed with vanilla. I like to smell dewey and sugary. Kind of like you.”

You smiled tiredly at her in the mirror, lifting a hand to pat at her wrist. The tender powder pink of your acrylics were bright against it. Behind you, Sevika leaned in the doorway, her presence as steady as a shadow.

“You’re making her shy, Melly,” she teased, her voice like gravel underfoot.

Mel glanced at her, rolling her eyes, but you caught the faintest smile tugging at her lips. As a final touch she added a large bow clip to your tamed strands; it was lilac and worn at the ends.

When you were cleaned up, you reached for your purse, pulling out a crumpled bill.

“Here. Let me—,” you began, holding it out.

Mel’s expression shifted, her smile fading into something more serious as she cut you off. She pushed your hand back gently.

“Honey, you don’t owe me anything.”

The sincerity in her voice caught you off guard, and you tucked the money away, unsure of what to say.

Sevika cleared her throat. “Where are we headed, anyway?”

“Tampa,” you said.

She raised a brow, her smirk returning.

“Figures. You seem like a Tampa girl.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Sevika just shrugged, her mouth twitching.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

The three of you stepped into the early morning light, the ocean-heavy breeze brushing against your skin. You didn’t even know you could live this close to the ocean in Miami.

You turned back and caught Sevika and Mel in silent conversation. There was something unspoken between them, between you, something you couldn’t quite name. For now, though, you let it rest.

Grandma’s sick, you reminded yourself. You had to keep going.

❀

The rest of the day swelled with humidity, the horizon bruised with the threat of rain. The Cadillac’s engine purred low, its growl humming beneath the croon of soft rock spilling through the speakers.

You kept your eyes on the window, the world outside blurring as heat shimmered off the asphalt and smeared the palms into a haze.

Sevika hadn’t said much since you got in her car. She didn’t need to.

There was a quiet kind of ease in her presence, a stillness that somehow made the grief gnawing at your chest feel less unbearable. She drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the window frame, her fingers idly toying with a cigarette she hadn’t yet lit.

The smell of the car had settled around you—leather, faint smoke, and something warm you couldn’t name. It was the kind of smell that made you think of safety, though you didn’t know why.

Your phone buzzed in your lap, the screen lighting up with a message from your mother.

Sorry, baby doll. Grandma’s on the brink.

You read the words twice, three times, and still they didn’t make sense. Your fingers tightened around the phone, your nails pressing into its glittery gold case, and something sharp and hot clawed its way up your throat.

Sevika glanced over, her brow furrowing.

“You good?”

You nodded quickly, your lips pressing together to hold back the tears that were already welling. But it was no use. They spilled over, fat and hot, streaking black mascara down your apple-round cheeks.

You turned your head, pretending to watch the passing trees, but your reflection in the window gave you away.

“Shit,” Sevika muttered, low and rough. She took one last drag from her cigarette, then flicked it out the window. “Hold on.”

She pulled off the highway, her movements smooth and deliberate, and guided the car into the gravel lot of a diner. Its neon sign flickered faintly against the gray sky, Chuck’s written in soft pink cursive. The building was small and sweet, painted robin’s egg blue with white shutters and lace curtains framing its windows.

Sevika parked and cut the engine, turning to look at you.

“Come here.”

Her voice was softer now, but it still carried that unshakable steadiness. You hesitated, your hands trembling in your lap, but the look on her face left no room for doubt. You leaned toward her, and her arms came around you, solid and warm, pulling you into her chest.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, her hand smoothing over your hair. “Come on, angel. Just let it out.”

And you did. The sobs came in waves, ripping through you until you were shaking, your fingers clutching the fabric of her shirt like a lifeline. She didn’t flinch, didn’t tell you to stop. She just held you, her hand a steady weight against the back of your head, her thumb brushing small, grounding circles into your shoulder.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged you like this.

When you finally pulled back, your face was hot, damp, and streaked; your mascara smudged into shadows beneath your eyes. Sevika reached out, her thumb catching the tracks on your cheeks.

“Messy,” she said softly, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

The diner’s door chimed as you stepped inside, the scent of fresh coffee and bread washing over you. The interior was impossibly charming, with its pastel booths, checkerboard floors, and the low hum of a jukebox in the corner. You slid into a booth by the window, the vinyl cool against the back of your legs.

Sevika sat across from you, her body filling the small space like a storm cloud, heavy and unshakable. You stared out the window, watching the rain slip down the glass in delicate rivulets. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled, low and faint.

“You’re strong, you know that?” Sevika’s voice broke through the quiet.

You turned to her, startled. Her eyes were dark, but they were the softest you’d seen them so far, almost tender.

She reached across the table, her fingers brushing your chin. The touch was light, but it sent a jolt through you, her thumb catching against your skin.

“It’ll be fine,” she said, her voice low and certain. “You’ll be fine. You have to be.”

Outside, the rain fell harder, the sound of it filling the silence between you. And then Sevika let go, her hand retreating back across the table.

The rain continued to blur the diner’s windows, the soft pink neon outside flickering faintly against the new gloom. You stared down at your coffee, the chipped porcelain mug warm in your hands, but it wasn’t enough to steady the tremor that had worked its way into your fingers. The realities of the world felt too sharp, too close, like you might unravel right there in your plain sight.

“Talk to me,” you said suddenly, your voice thin and unsteady. “I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack.”

Sevika’s eyes lifted from her coffee, dark and knowing. Her expression didn’t shift, but something gave in the set of her jaw. She leaned back, one arm slung over the booth’s edge, her other hand absently brushing the lip of her mug.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything.” You exhaled shakily, your gaze flicking out to the rain before returning to her. “Tell me why you drive a beat-up Cadillac.”

That pulled a small, low chuckle from her, quiet but rich. She tipped her head, the motion slow and deliberate, and for a moment, you felt less like you were shuddering into beautiful pieces.

“You think she’s beat-up?” Sevika asked, her lips curving faintly.

“She’s held together by rust and prayer,” you said, almost smiling. “I’m just saying.”

Sevika’s laugh came fuller this time, a sound that filled the air without disrupting the other patrons.

“Hey. She’s got character. My dad gave her to me when I was nineteen. She used to be pristine—white leather, a real beauty. But time does what it does.”

You blinked, caught on the number.

“Nineteen?” you asked, hesitant. “How long ago was that?”

Her smirk grew, slow and sharp. “Longer than you’d guess, angel.”

Your brows furrowed, curiosity blooming against the weight in your chest. “How old are you?”

Sevika’s gaze lingered, the kind of look that made you feel seen in a way that was both unnerving and magnetic.

“Old enough to remember when you had to rewind your mixtapes with a pencil,” she said, her voice dry, teasing.

You couldn’t help it—a small laugh slipped out, barely there, but it felt good.

“I’ve always had a thing for older women,” you said absently, the words slipping out before you realized what you’d said.

Her smirk deepened, her eyes sharpening in a way that made your stomach flip.

“That so?” she murmured, her voice low and rich, a swatch of velvet dragged through smoke. “You looking for a mommy, angel?”

Heat flooded your face, vicious and unbearable, and you pushed back from the table, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor.

“I’m, um—gonna order something at the counter,” you mumbled, refusing to meet her gaze.

She chuckled, soft and lazy, her voice following you as you turned toward the counter.

“Go on, sweetheart. Take your time.”

The diner felt warmer, brighter, as you made your way to the counter, the fluorescents buzzing faintly above. You kept your eyes on the menu board, your pulse still thrumming in your ears.

❀

It’s four more hours to Tampa, but it’s the most excruciating period of your life.

You’d left the diner a little steadier, Sevika’s arm brushing yours as you climbed back into her car. The Cadillac rattled like death, its leather seats sticky against your thighs.

You leaned your temple against the window, watching as the flat Florida landscape blurred into soft greens and yellows. The air outside was still thick with heat, even with the sun reducing its intensity as it slunk away.

The highway stretched out like an open wound, raw and endless. You fiddled with the radio dial until a bouncy indie pop song filtered back through the speakers, filling the air with a thousand wailing guitars. Sevika didn’t complain, her focus locked on the road ahead.

At some point, she pulled off into a gravel lot in front of a boutique. The building was small and unassuming, its pink paint faded by time. A hand-painted sign swung lazily in the humid breeze.

“We’re stopping?” you asked, your voice hoarse from exhaustion.

“You need other clothes,” Sevika said simply, stepping out of the car. “Come on.”

The shop smelled faintly of coconut wax and dust, its racks crammed with mismatched pieces that managed to appear more curated than random. Sevika leaned against a rack of jeans, her arms crossed, as you wandered through the aisles.

“We’re strangers,” you said eventually, holding up a knit top to your chest. “Why are you taking care of me?”

Sevika didn’t answer right away. Her gaze dropped to the floor, her jaw tightening in thought.

“I remember being twenty-one,” she said finally. “The world was a lot to handle back then. Some days, it still is.”

You lowered the top and gazed at her, mouth dipping in understanding. She was so beautiful here, despite being far from at home in this confectionery store. Her arms flexed gently as she shifted in place, and you resisted the urge to press her hair out of her face.

“I’m sorry that you know what that feels like.”

“You don’t have to pity me,” she said, the response clearly a reflex.

You smiled crookedly and didn’t press further.

The outfit you picked—a striped knit and high-waisted jeans—felt soft against your skin. The knit hugged your curves, the soft plum-colored neckline slipping just low enough to expose the plush swell of your shoulder. When you stepped out of the dressing room, Sevika gave you a once-over, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“You’re a girl with expensive taste,” she teased. “Is that cashmere?”

“It’s my stage name for a reason,” you shot back, smiling softly. “And everything is overpriced here.”

“You look like a doll,” she said, her tone amused.

You rolled your eyes, brushing past her to the counter.

“I’ve got to look a little more appropriate.”

“For what?” she teased. “Tampa doesn’t care.”

“Well , my Aunt Kenna will.”

Unsurprisingly, you found yourself overpowered by Sevika at the register. She pressed her card down, its body sleek and black with silver lettering. Once again, you were struck by the kindness of strangers and you felt your throat tighten.

She gave you a look, as if to quiet your self-effacing urges. Behind the counter, the clerk smiled to herself as she observed the two of you. She was petite and had a pinched face, her hair short and a creamy blonde. Maddie, her tag read. She reminded you a lot of your mother, possessing the same shifty energy of a runner as she racked up your total.

The drive resumed, and with it, you revealed more of yourself to Sevika. You told her about your grandma, about the way she used to braid your hair with fake frangipani from the craft store and sing to you in the evenings where your mother would be gone. How her hands were always soft, even when they were tired. How you used to tuck yourself under the desk at the hospital where she worked when your heart was crumbled by women you definitely shouldn’t have been involved with at eighteen.

You spoke of your aunt, the way she fought to keep the family together, even when it wasn’t hers to save. You spoke of your little sister who in a way was also your child, how you did most things in life for her sake.

Sevika listened in silence, her hand resting on the wheel, her gaze never straying from the road. There was something in her stillness that made you feel seen, even when the words caught in your throat.

When you finally crossed into Tampa, the sky was dyed indigo and gold, the houses lining the street glowing faintly in the dusk.

You rolled the window down and leaned out, your phone poised to capture the image forever on your cracked back camera. You were such a tall child.

The warm air stroked against the moon of your face, tugged at the ends of your hair and dried your lips. You felt Sevika’s hand slide to your thigh, just below the crease of your ass, heavy and grounding, and you froze. Her palm was rough against the soft give of your flesh, her fingers splayed just enough to keep you steady.

“Don’t fall out,” she muttered, her voice tinged with quiet amusement.

“I won’t,” you said, but you sat back soon after, your heart beating a little too fast.

Sevika’s hand lingered a second longer before retreating to the wheel.

The butter-yellow house came into view, its shutters glowing faintly in the twilight. Your breath hitched. It looked the same as it always had, though the paint was more weathered, the steps chipped at the edges.

Sevika pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. The silence was deafening. You fumbled with your purse, fingers trembling, but before you could open the door, Sevika’s hand found your chin. She turned your face toward hers, her thumb brushing just beneath your jaw.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Always is.”

Her eyes held you in place, dark and unflinching.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you believed her. Before you could think too much of it, you leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her cheek. Over her scar.

“Thank you.”

Her mouth parted, but the screen door creaked open, and you saw your aunt step onto the porch, her arms crossed and one brow raised in quiet judgment. You hesitated, glancing back at Sevika.

“You could come in,” you offered, the words heavier than they should have been.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking to your aunt before landing back on you. She pushed off the seat and got out to follow you, her presence like a shadow at your back.

The porch light hummed faintly as you step inside, and a creamy warmth filled your chest. Your sister cheered when she saw you, and you laughed—your eyesight blurring. For the first time in hours, you felt like you could breathe.

❀

As always, you dived in headfirst and sought out your grandmother’s room.

It was a terrible mistake. You couldn’t handle seeing her like that.

Almost immediately, bile surged up your throat, sharp and acidic, and you bolted—pausing just long enough to set the medicine down on her nightstand with quaking hands. You burst outside, where the air was sweltering with salt and the sudden impact of your new reality.

You weren’t good with death, not in any of its forms.

When your daddy died, something inside you cracked clean in half, the break jagged and irreparable. You’d felt a piece of yourself slip down into his grave, like a loose flower. Since then, you’d clung to the hope that love—your love—could somehow keep the people you cared about alive. At least until you felt ready for the loss.

Your chest ached in a way that felt both too familiar and entirely new, like grief had leveled your ribs to construct a home in your body. You rubbed at it absently, trying to dull the pressure blooming there, blinking hard against the rising tide of tears.

She was going to die. You knew this. It settled into your stomach like lead, poisoning you.

Behind you, the woods creaked, the trees’ chorus soft and low, like they were joining you in mourning. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Hey, angel,” Sevika said, her voice low and warm, the kind of soft you wouldn’t have expected from her. It caught you off guard every time. “You alright?”

“I’m not going back in there,” you said quickly, your voice brittle and thin.

“You don’t have to.” There was a pause, long enough to make your chest tighten. Then, quieter, “Can you look at me?”

You hesitated, staring down at your hands, at the chipping polish on your grown out tips and the way your fingers trembled. You could feel her waiting, patient and steady, like she’d stand there all night if you needed her to. Finally, you turned, slow and reluctant, until your eyes met hers.

Sevika stood at the edge of the porch, broad shoulders framed by the faded light. Her face was unreadable, but not unkind.

“Come here,” she said, barely above a whisper.

You didn’t think. You moved, inching forward on unsteady legs and stepping into her orbit. Her hands came up instinctively, one curling around your elbow, the other hovering just above your waist, as if she wasn’t sure where to touch you.

“I can’t go back in there,” you repeated, your voice cracking.

“[Name]—,”

“She’s dying.”

“But you knew that. You can’t leave her when she needs you the most.

“I’m tired of people fucking needing me.” You crossed your arms over your torso, holding yourself. “They all just leave anyway.”

“When you love people, that’s the process. That’s life’s price.

The words hit you like a perfect blow, and before you could stop yourself, you were crying—big, fat tears that streaked your cheeks with warmth and made your mascara run. You tried to turn away, but her hand found your chin, tilting your face back toward hers.

“Hey,” she murmured, her thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s unfair, I know. Trust me, I know. Let it out.”

And you did. You let the sobs take you, let them rip through you wave after wave, until you were clinging to her shirt, the fabric balled tightly in your fists. She held you through it, solid and unfaltering, her hand steady against your back.

When the tears finally subsided, you felt drained, like you’d been wrung out and left to dry. But her arms stayed around you.

❀

Sevika managed to coax you inside, shivering and bleating like a lamb, but the house was newly unbearable.

Every room smelled like antiseptic and something sweetly rotting beneath the surface, a scent that clung to your hair and the back of your throat. The walls felt too bright, too alive for what was happening inside them.

It was like the house was mocking you. Every sound—your grandmother’s labored breathing, the clock ticking too loudly in the kitchen, your little sister’s restless movements on the couch—seemed to close in on you.

You couldn’t stay. Not in that room, not in that house. Maybe you took after your mother more than you liked to admit.

Your sister looked so small on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her and her face blank as she stared at the flickering TV. She was holding onto the hem of her dress like it might unravel if she let go and the man on the screen promised to get her a spot in heaven, under God’s thumb. Bullshit.

When you spoke, your voice was soft, barely audible over the droning hum of the television.

“Get your shoes on, bug,” you said. “We’re going to the beach.”

Her head snapped up, her wide eyes searching yours for a moment before she nodded and slid off the couch.

You were almost out the door when your aunt caught you, her voice sharp but quiet.

“You better know what you’re doing with that woman.”

Kenna’s words stopped you cold, the strap of your bag digging into your shoulder as you turned to face her. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her face shadowed by the dim porch light.

“I don’t know what I’m doing with her,” you admitted, your voice low. “But I know I trust her.”

Your aunt studied you for a long moment, her gaze heavy and cutting. Finally, she stepped aside, her expression softening just enough to let you know she wasn’t angry, just worried.

“I know what infatuation looks like. I know what love looks like too, even when it’s still on its way. It’s coming, baby. Just—,”she sighed, breaking off.

“Just be careful,” she finished.

You hugged her tight, sagging as she slid a hand over her hair before letting you go.

Sevika was waiting in the car, her arm draped over the steering wheel, her face unreadable in the twilight. Your sister climbed into the backseat, curling up immediately with her Lisa Frank coloring book, and you slid into the passenger seat without a word.

The drive was quiet, the low hum of the city filling the space between you. Sevika didn’t push, didn’t ask what had happened inside. She just drove, and you were so grateful you could’ve kissed her.

The beach was nearly empty when you arrived, the sun beyond gone now. You spread a blanket out on the cool gray sand, letting your sister run down to the water. Her laughter echoed faintly, carried by the breeze, and for a moment, you let yourself relax.

You pulled off your woven cover-up, revealing the soft orange bikini you’d slipped on. The well-loved fabric clung to you, accentuating the plush curves of your body in a way that made you stall for only a moment. But then Sevika looked at you, and the way her gaze dragged over you made all air flee your throat.

She swallowed hard, her jaw working as she tore her eyes away and stared out at the water instead.

“You look nice,” she said, her voice gruff.

You snorted, sitting down on the blanket.

“Nice?”

“Very nice,” she amended, but the rasp in her voice gave her away.

“You do too,” you told her and you meant it.

She was gorgeous in her black cropped tee and little black cargoes. This was “as beachy as she was willing to get”. You didn’t give a damn. You wanted to eat her alive.

The sky deepened into a hazy indigo, the stars faint and scattered. Your sister danced along the shoreline, her feet splashing in the shallow waves. You watched her, your chest aching with something you couldn’t name.

“I wish this was my entire life,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Sevika.

She turned to you, her brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“This,” you said, gesturing to your sister. “Taking care of her. Taking care of my daughter with my wife. No illness, no bills piling up, no—” Your voice broke, and you swallowed hard. “No worries. Just a quiet life.”

Sevika didn’t respond right away. When you finally looked at her, her face was so soft in a way you knew was probably a rarity. Her prosthetic raised in an aborted motion, as if she’d thought to touch your face.

“I could take care of you, baby,” she said quietly, the words slipping from her lips like a promise.

Your breath caught, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

“Come back with me, [Name],” she said, her voice low and steady. “Stay with me and Melly. Bring [Sister’s Name]. You don’t have to do it alone all the time.”

The fantasy of her words pressed against your chest, warm and overwhelming. For a moment, you let yourself imagine it: her, Melly, your sister, a life where the world's heaviness couldn’t crush you.

Your sister called out from the water, waving a piece of driftwood she’d found, and the moment broke. Sevika’s hand brushed yours, solid and grounding, and when you turned back to her, her eyes were still on you, waiting.

The tide lapped at the shore, the sound mingling with your sister’s laughter, and you felt a rising pulse in your mouth, on your tongue.

“They do fireworks at the docks. You have to pay, but we sneak in all the time. You wanna see?”

“Sure,” Sevika said.

The answer came so easily and you knew she’d give you everything. Maybe even love you forever. The thought made you tingle and you dug your toes into the sand.

“Let’s go,” you said, your pinky twisting around hers.

You both knew you weren’t talking about the fireworks.

With a wry smile she rose and set about taking you home again.

Your sister—forever your baby—was curled fast asleep in the back seat of Sevika’s car by the time you pulled out of the lot, her face slack with the kind of peace only children seemed capable of. Her soft snores filled the space between you as Sevika drove back to your grandmother’s house, the streets quiet and warm, lit faintly by streetlights. The evening air hung heavy, sticking to your skin like a second layer.

You glanced at Sevika as she drove, her profile lit in flashes by the passing lights. Her grip on the wheel was loose, but her fingers drummed absently against the leather, her thoughts somewhere else. Maybe with you.

You wondered if she was nervous. You wondered if she knew how much you were.

“She’s out like a light,” Sevika murmured, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Guess it’s just us.”

You swallowed, your fingers playing with the hem of your cover-up, and nodded. “Just us.”

Your aunt was waiting on the porch when you arrived. She was perched on the railing, her vape glowing faintly in the dark. You knew the scent without looking: cucumber, apple, and sour cherry.

Her sharp gaze moved between the two of you as Sevika carried your sister inside, her long stride easy and steady despite the weight of the little girl in her arms.

“Enjoyed your family outing?” Aunt Kenna asked, teasing but pointed, as you lingered by the door.

You blinked at her, startled, heat rising in your cheeks. “It wasn’t like that.”

She snorted, taking a long drag. “Sure it wasn’t .”

❀

The docks were quieter than you expected when you arrived. Most of the families had settled in their little corners, kids running barefoot across the wooden planks, their laughter echoing into the open sky. The air smelled of pear, peach blossoms, and distant charcoal grills, a mix of sugar and fire that felt like the very essence of where you’d been born and raised.

Sevika parked far enough away to avoid the crowd but close enough for you to see the shimmering reflections of the boats swaying in the dark water. She leaned back against the hood of her car, her long legs stretched out in front of her, and watched as you wandered closer to the edge, the creamy orange of your tiny bikini glowing faintly in the dim light.

You should’ve been illegal.

“Careful, angel,” she called, her voice warm, fond. “You fall in, I’m not jumping after you.”

You turned, smirking, the breeze tugging at the bow sitting pretty in the middle of your full breasts.

“I can swim.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to fish you out,” she said, but her smile gave her away. She was watching you so intently, her gaze loaded, as if committing you to memory.

You walked back toward her, your arms wrapped around yourself, and stopped just a foot away. The tension between you was almost tangible now, electric. You could feel it humming in the air, in the way her eyes lingered on the curve of your wide hips, the dip of your collarbone. It made your breath hitch.

“I’ve always loved the docks,” you said softly. “They feel… timeless. Like you could stand here forever and nothing would change.”

Sevika hummed, tilting her head to look up at you. “You think that’s a good thing?”

You shrugged, your lips curving faintly.

“Sometimes.”

The first firework burst above you then, a bloom of pink and gold that lit up the sky and reflected off the water. A shock of red followed shortly after. You both looked up, the moment suspended, the sound of the explosion echoing in your chest.

You glanced at Sevika, her face bathed in the soft glow of the fireworks, and felt something shift inside you. Something undeniable.

The show continued, and you moved to lean against the hood of her car. The metal was warm and your stomach was buzzing at the nearness of Sevika’s broad body.

By the time the fireworks were halfway through, you couldn’t focus on them anymore. The loud bursts of color seemed secondary to the way Sevika was lounging next to you, her broad shoulders relaxed, her eyes soaking in the way goosebumps bubbled along your arms. It felt like she was daring you to do something, to cross the line you’d been dancing around since she’d swept you off the highway.

You moved closer, your bare feet brushing against hers, and she straightened slightly, her head listing to the side as she watched you.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, her voice low.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding.

“I’m thinking…” You trailed off, your fingers twisting in the sides of your bikini bottom. “I’m thinking this feels… nice.”

Her lips quirked, just slightly, but her gaze was serious. “Nice?”

“So good,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel… safe with you. Things are perfect like this, and—and I’m probably never gonna feel this way again.”

The words hung between you, honest and raw, and you could see the way they landed on her, the way her expression softened, her guard slipping for just a moment.

“I’d never hurt you,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “You know that, right?”

You nodded, stepping even closer until you were standing between her legs, the warmth of her body seeping into yours. “I know.”

You didn’t, really. She could be selling you a paper thin dream. But your hope had always been the largest part of you. It spurred the flame you felt for her, your aching burning desire to be with her all the time. To ride by her side without question.

Her hand came up then, hesitating for just a second before settling on your waist. The touch was light, almost cautious, but it sent an electric current straight through you.

“Sevika,” you whispered, your voice stumbling.

She leaned in slightly, her breath warm against your cheek.

“Yeah?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you closed the gap between you, your lips brushing against hers in a kiss that felt just right, like the tide meeting the shore. Your body lit up, and you collapsed into her—trusting and free.

She stilled for a moment, as if surprised, but then her hand tightened on your waist and she kissed you back, slow and deliberate.

The world seemed to fade then, the fireworks a distant, glittering symphony in the black sky. All you could feel was her—her warmth, her strength, the way she seemed determined to hold you together even as you felt like you might fall apart.

When you finally pulled back, your breath coming in weak gasps, lightheaded and aching to faint, she rested her forehead against yours, searching your dilated eyes.

Your lip gloss was smeared across Sevika’s jaw, leaving a streak of shimmering peach and rose that caught in the fleeting light of the evening. It clung to her skin, soft and vivid As she moved, the stain glistened faintly, the contrast against her sharp, weathered features sending a slow, aching thrill down your spine.

It was yours, this faint, glittering mark, lingering in the space where your mouth had been. She made no effort to remove it.

“Angel,” she murmured, her voice rough. “You sure about this?”

You nodded, your hands clutching at her shoulders. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Her smile was soft, almost reverent, as she pressed another searing kiss to your lips.

“Come on,” she said, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Let’s get in the car.”

❀

Your palm slapped hard against the roof, your teeth almost tearing through your bottom lip as you tried to hold back a loud moan.

Beneath you, Sevika gripped the copious flesh of your ass as she sucked at your clit.

“Oh, shit, Sevika. Fuck.”

In the beginning you were so careful, worried about blocking her airway. With a hard slap to your ass she pulled you down, relentless in taking all of you.

“Hnnnnnh,” you whimpered. “Sevi, fuuuuuck.”

Sevika hummed in satisfaction at that. As she watched your face she grazed your clit with her teeth, relishing in how you arched.

You were so warm and supple between her fingers, your pussy slobbering over her nose and mouth. You tasted so good, so musky and honeyed. She never wanted to let you go.

Slowly, she slide you down and pressed you down to her chest as she undid your bikini top so that your tits spilled eagerly against her own. She then tenderly tucked two fingers inside of you, cooing as you whined at the stretch.

She began to bounce you by the fabric of your bottoms, forcing you to ride her fingers until they were covered in the thin film of your wetness. You moaned at her strength, at how easily she’d decided how you’d take her.

“Good fucking girl. So sweet, aren’t you, baby? Hmm?”

“Sevi, please. Just—just a little faster.”

She grinned meanly, inserting a third finger and curling them—raking cruelly against your g-spot. You sank further into her, swiveling your hips if only to get her deeper. To take her harder. Your pussy was weeping, emptying itself onto her hand.

“Jesus, sweetheart. You’re leaking all over me. ‘M never gonna get this out of these seats.”

“Good,” you breathed out, smiling impishly.

Sevika’s eyes darkened and she suddenly rearranged you till you were on your back against the leather seats, your legs wholly spread. she lowered between them, licking a long stripe up to your clit experimentally.

She had you soft and loose. You didn’t realize just how spacious this car was.

You moaned, high and loud, snapping into an arch until you were forced to come back down, Sevika’s arm holding your hips firmly. Your eyes were closed now, and your eyelids were no longer just black, explosions of color staining them, ripping through you.

Sevika lapped at you, taking her time but still intentional with the way she touched you. She used a hand to spread you apart burying her face into her pussy, her nose becoming wet again with your rabid need. She became messy, moving her head back and forth, slurping at you until you were almost shaking, on the edge of something greater.

Settling back just slightly, she spat harshly into your cunt and rubbed it into your clit, pressing down until it was close to painful. You couldn’t breathe correctly. You couldn’t even remember your name.

"Sevi. Sevi. Mommy, oh my fucking God.“

Sevika said nothing, just caught a lip of your cunt between her teeth, biting down as she slid her fingers back in.

"Unh," is what you had to add to the nonexistent conversation and Sevika grinned against you.

She spread her fingers and then curled them, dragging your hips into her lap as she sat up. You couldn’t feel your fucking legs.

"Yes. Yeah. Yeah, just like that. It feels so fucking good."

Sevika was driven and vicious, determined to eat away at the woman beneath her. You curved your back as your orgasm approached, determined to feel it all the way up in the cavern of your mouth. You needed this.

Sevika leaned over you, tilting your head down so that you were looking at one another.

"I want you to keep looking at me as you cum."

You made a faint noise of agreement and clutched at Sevika’s arms. She took your hands and placed them underneath your knees, so that you could hold yourself open. It spread you apart until she was able to view how pink and puffy you were.

“I can’t wait to get you in bed, honey. ‘M gonna bend you over, open that tight little cunt with my cock, and watch you swallow me.”

“Oh.” You let a little groan of satisfaction as she thumbed at your clit.

Sevika pressed your foreheads together and thumbed at your mouth. You felt both here and there, brain blanking.

“Ohh,” she mocked you with a slight smile. “You’re so fucking cute.”

You cast your head back as Sevika returned her mouth to your pussy, suckling at it in combination with her fingers carving a space deep inside of you.

"Come on, angel," she urged. "Be good for me."

You were trying, goddamnit.

"Gonna take a photo of this creamy cunt. Show Melly, tell her that I did this. That you let me."

You let out a high whine, and she nodded in faux sympathy.

“Mmm? Is that what you want to do? Want me to take you to that shitty club and spread you open on stage? Stake my claim?”

A fourth finger now. Her voice dropped as if telling you a secret.

“Maybe I’ll slide some cold, hard cash into this slutty cunt, stretch that slit.” Faster now. Your toes curled. “ Fuck. I’m sorry, baby. Mommy just wants to slut you out.”

She pressed a delicate kiss to your cunt and you were unsure if what came next was just the slam of your hand against the door echoing or another firework going off.

All you knew was that the world around you was roaring, that she refused to stop. All you knew was her digging into you.

You imploded.

❀

The drive back was quiet, the tension between you still palpable but softer now, sated and sleepy. Sevika reached over once, her fingers brushing against your cheek and you shifted, pressing the petals of your lips into the center of her palm without hesitation.

When you finally pulled into your grandmother’s driveway, the house bathed in the soft glow of the porch light, you turned to her, your heart full to bursting.

“Stay,” you said, your emotions splayed wide open. “Just for a little while.”

She looked at you for a long moment, and then she nodded. “Okay.”

You both knew it wasn’t just for a little while.

❀

The house smelled like hibiscus and coffee when you walked in, the faint scent of six-dollar soy candles lingering in the corners. Your aunt was at the sink, her hands submerged in soapy water, her curls pinned back with a clip. She turned when she heard the door creak open, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Sevika trailing behind you, broad-shouldered and quiet.

“You brought her back?” she asked, not in a disparaging manner, though her tone carried the weight of an older woman who’d seen it all.

“[Sister’s Name] forgot something in her car,” you lied easily, gesturing toward said alibi, who was peeking into the kitchen while rubbing a fist over her eye, her drowsy greeting muffled as she dragged her blanket behind her.

Your aunt didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue either. Instead, she flicked her chin toward the counter.

“If she’s staying, she may as well help.”

Sevika looked at you, one brow arched slightly in amusement. You shrugged, trying to play it cool, though the idea of her folding herself into your life—even for something as mundane as this—made your stomach swoop.

The kitchen was broiling, almost unbearably so, with the old oven humming faintly and the humidity from the day still clinging to the walls. Sevika rolled up her sleeves, revealing the curve of her forearms, the prosthetic gleaming faintly in the soft overhead light.

You tried not to stare, but your eyes kept drifting—over the way her hands moved as she dried the dishes your aunt handed her, the faint flex of muscle under her skin.

“You ever wash a dish before?” your aunt asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Plenty,” Sevika admitted, her voice low and even. “Did a couple restaurant stints when I first came to this place. I was hoping to never do that shit again.”

You bit back a smile, ducking your head as you reached for a towel to dry the counter. The space felt smaller with her in it, her silhouette filling every corner, her quick movements electric.

Your aunt glanced between the two of you, her gaze lingering on Sevika before she handed her another plate.

“You’re a hard worker. Good. She needs someone who can keep up.”

Sevika’s lips quirked, but she didn’t respond, her attention focused on the task in front of her.

The radio crackled faintly from the corner, playing some old Cuban bolero your aunt loved, and you found yourself swaying slightly as you worked, the rhythm infectious. You caught Sevika watching you out of the corner of her eye, her gaze soft but intent, and your cheeks warmed.

“You dance to this too?” she asked, her voice pitched low enough that your aunt didn’t catch it.

“Sometimes,” you said, keeping your focus on the counter. “Not for free, though.”

She chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in her chest. “Figures.”

Your aunt, oblivious or maybe just tactfully ignoring the tension that weaved itself between you, turned to Sevika with a clean dish in hand.

“Rinse this for me, would you? And don’t let her distract you—she’s been trouble since she could fucking walk.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sevika said, glancing at you with a spark of amusement in her eyes.

The night wore on, the kitchen growing quieter as your aunt finally finished and stepped out to check on your sister. You stayed behind, leaning against the counter as Sevika dried her hands on a threadbare patch of towel.

“I can’t believe you were hustling in restaurants,” you said, nodding toward the sink.

She smirked, tossing the towel onto the counter.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I can be a delight.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

“Thanks for helping.”

“Anytime,” she said, her voice softening slightly.

You watched her for a moment, the way her shoulders seemed less tense now, the way her hair caught the light. The memory of her hands on you earlier still lingered, watering over your skin. It was a secret only the two of you shared.

“You okay?” she asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she stepped closer.

You nodded, though your chest felt tight, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

“Yeah. Just a little tired.”

Her hand brushed yours, just barely, but it was enough to make your heart skip. She noticed, her gaze dropping to where your fingers nearly touched before she pulled back, her jaw tightening.

“We should get some sleep,” she said, her voice quieter now.

“Yeah,” you murmured, though you didn’t move.

For a moment, neither of you did, the hum of the radio the only sound in the room. Then she stepped back, giving you space you didn’t want, and you let her.

❀

Your bedroom felt much like the inside of a shell—quiet and strange, the air soaked with a mixture of rose, magnolia, and something darker, something that sat low in your chest. You could still taste the golden slices of your childhood, still feel the ache in your ribs that came from building elaborate forts.

But now there was Sevika, solid and steady beneath you.

As soon as the door had closed, she’d taken you apart slowly, carefully, as though she’d known you needed it to feel stable again.

The rough pads of her fingers, the soft murmur of her voice, the way she called you princess like it was the only name you’d ever had. And you had suffered in silence, hand across your mouth as you clenched and shook around her head for the third time, then the fourth.

You’d finally tired after a good ride on her thigh, holding on desperately to the nape of neck. Her baby hair was soft there, tender. She came when you kissed her nose, slid down to her mouth, and called her beautiful. She’d whimpered, bucked awkwardly around your fingers, and you held her to you as you whispered her name.

You’d looked it up in the bathroom. Sevika. Of Indian and Sanskrit origin. Servant of God.

Now, she lay between your legs, her head resting heavy and warm against your stomach. The weight of her felt magical, made your body feel more virginal than it ever had been, and you sighed lowly as the first rays of sunlight slipped through the blinds, casting pale gold stripes across her back.

The swan wings stretched with her every move, the feathers catching flight as she breathed. Muted ivory and soft grays leaned tenderly into the faintest hints of lavender and navy blue, the delicate gradient of ink glowing against her deep, bronze skin.

You reached out, tracing the curve of a wing’s tip near her shoulder blade. The ink felt warm under your fingertips, her skin soft but unyielding. The swan’s head, nestled at the base of her neck where the wings met, was elegant and sharp, its eyes bright as if they could see into you. You followed the line of its neck with your thumb, your touch lingering at the place where her spine dipped, and she hummed low in her throat, a sound that vibrated through your body.

She tilted her head, her cheek brushing against the softness of your belly as her eyes opened slowly, sleep still heavy in her gaze.

“You like it?” she murmured, voice rough and low.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re beautiful.”

You had already said this, and the reminder made you blush in embarrassment. A slow, lopsided smile tugged at her lips, and she closed her eyes again, sinking deeper into you as if she belonged there. You felt her hand slide up to rest on your thigh, her fingers splayed against your skin, holding you in place like she was afraid you’d disappear into the rising morning.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, and you flinched at the sound, the world outside pressing back in. Sevika didn’t move, just let her hand trail lazily up your spine as you reached for it. The screen glowed with messages from your aunt:

aunt kenna 𓆉: Couldn’t get anyone to cover the rest of my shifts this week. aunt kenna 𓆉: Mom’s still kicking. She’s getting stronger. aunt kenna 𓆉: Ty for coming home. See you soon. Love you, bug x

Still alive, you thought. The words lit up something inside you, bright and raw and impossible to contain. You laughed, the sound catching on the edge of a sob, and dropped the phone onto the bed.

“What is it?” Sevika asked, her voice filling with concern.

You didn’t answer right away. You couldn’t. The words tangled in your throat. Instead, you turned to her, your fingers trembling as they found her face, tracing the line of her jaw, the curve of her full mouth.

“She’s still alive,” you whispered, the words spilling out like a prayer.

Her eyes softened, her hand sliding up to cradle your face, her thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice steady, certain. “She’s a strong woman, just like the rest of you.”

The relief hit you all at once, sharp and overwhelming, and you kissed her because you couldn’t think of anything else to do. It was messy and desperate, your hands fisting in her hair as you tried to pour every unspoken thing into her mouth. She let you, her body surrendering to its basest urges .

“Still alive,” you repeated, this time against her lips, your forehead resting against hers as your tears slipped silently onto her skin.

“Mmhmm,” she murmured, her voice soft but sure, her hands steady on your hips. “You’re all gonna live forever.”

You kissed her again, because you needed to. You needed her.

You believed her.

And the truth was you didn’t know how good it would get for the two (five) of you.

You’d look back, let go, lose this part of things. Take your baby sister and leave.

You’d still be you, but you'd be free.

taglist: @miles-42-morales @indigopearl96 @marvelwomenarehot0 @vintagelotus345 @queen-simone @uronlymiaa @namuranguinhos @femlesbianbarbie @femme-historian @vikaswife @powderpinkandsweeet @drgnflyteabox @icespiceluva @theirlaliengirl @supermanwifey @nkeyaaa @batmanslittlelover @strawberrykidneystone @shimmerstraps

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jeonginsleftcheek · 5 months ago

Text

Bf!Skz reaction to you randomly spanking them

pairing: ot8 x gn!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warnings: none i think? (lmk)

a/n: just a little something while i decide what to write next bcs i have too many ideas🥲

~ check out: Masterlist

Chan:

You're at your boyfriend's studio, and as much as you admire his process of writing and producing songs, you're becoming bored.

It looks like he completely forgot about your presence as he works away while you sit on the couch, playing with your phone.

You huff but Chan doesn't even budge and at this point you're sure he's teasing you on purpose.

He stands up and leans over the table to grab something and you take that as your chance. You quickly stand up and slap his butt as hard as you can, hurting your hand in the process and making him jolt forwards as he grabs at the end of the table.

Chan turns around to look at you, a mix of surprise and slyness on his face, his cheeks dusted in pink.

"I sure hope you know what you just started, love."

Lee Know:

You and your boyfriend are in the kitchen, cooking dinner together. It feels like both of you have fallen into a trance, working together like you were a well oiled machine.

Some light music plays in the background as you cut some vegetables while Minho prepares the meat.

He turns his back to you slightly as he grabs some spices and you look up from your task, your eyes falling to his ass.

You smirk and lift your hand up before smacking his ass and watching it jiggle. The way he turned around slowly like a cat, his eyes judgy and a sly smirk on his lips.

"What are you doing kitten?"- he asks.

"Learning from the best."- you shrug nonchalantly.

"Hold that thought until after dinner."

Changbin:

It's a chilly autumn Friday night, but you're not cold at all.

In fact, you're sweating because your boyfriend suggested for the two of you to spend the evening in the gym.

You protested at first, but he was adamant on blending two of his favorite activities together in his rare free time; spending time with you and working out.

You slowly get into it and the physical exertion, the heat in your body plus your sexy boyfriend looking extra delicious while he works on his muscles bring a different kind of warmness between your legs.

Changbin moves around before bending over to pick up the bottle of water he left on the side and you can't help it, your hand flying on its own and smacking his ass so hard that you think your hand might fall off.

"Yah!"- he yells out, clearly startled as he grabs at his ass. "What's that for?"

"You're so hot, Binnie. I couldn't resist."- you bat your eyelashes innocently at him as he narrows his eyes and smirks.

His face is flushed from the work out but you swear it looks even more red now.

"Yeah? Wanna go home and show me how much you can't resist me?"

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin and you decided to avoid the summer heat by going to the pool.

Sadly, the sea was too far away and you didn't have much free time to actually make a trip there, so the pool had to suffice.

Both of you didn't mind though, you were happy to splash around and play in the water together, enjoy your time like you had no worries on your mind.

You stayed in the pool for a fairly long time and Hyunjin swam towards the steps first. You followed him and watched as he stood up and walked out of the water, his body on display for you, his muscles tense as droplets of water slid down his spine.

His cute little perky ass got your attention and you hurried up as he turned and waited for you.

"Let's get changed."- you ushered him to the showers and he chuckled at your sudden eagerness to leave.

As soon as you were as far away from other people as you could be, your hand collided with his ass, echoing in the empty hall.

Hyunjin yelped, doubling down dramatically and almost falling to his knees.

Even your hand burned because of the impact on his wet swim trunks.

"Why would you hurt me like that?!"- he whined, grabbing at the wall and making a show of it.

"You've taken worse."- you smirk at his antics and he chuckled, his cheeks red.

"Don't talk about that in public."- he smacked your arm lightly and you laughed.

"Well let's find a more private place where we can talk."

Jisung:

The two of you are walking home from a movie date, your hands swinging together as you discuss the film you just watched.

The evening is quiet and peaceful and you can't wait to come home, shower and get under the covers with your sweet boyfriend.

Jisung takes his phone out of his pocket to show you something but since he never wants to let go of your hand, the phone clatters as it hits the floor.

"Shit!"- he exclaims, letting go of your hand and bending down to pick up the device.

Your eyes fall on his cute ass instantly, looking extra cute in his tight black jeans. You smirk as you land a hard smack against his flesh, making him shriek and almost fall over.

"Damn. Do that again."

Felix:

It's your first time sleeping over at Felix's place and since both of you love baking, you decided to try out a new recipe.

The problem was, you needed to run to the store to get some ingredients.

"I'm sorry, I should've prepared these beforehand."- Felix pouts cutely at you and you chuckle.

"Bubs, it's okay, I don't mind taking a little walk to the store. It'll be like a little adventure."- you smile and he chuckles, his cheeks dusted pink.

"Alright, that sounds way more fun now."- he nods.

The two of you make a short 10 minute trip to the nearest store. As you walk through the aisles, in the bright fluorescent light you notice just how tight your boyfriend's pants are, his ass and thighs prominent in them.

He even dares to bend down to pick up an ingredient from a lower shelf.

Your mouth waters at the sight and without thinking you smack his ass, ending it with a nice handful of his flesh as he squeals and lifts up quickly.

"Hey!"- he whips around so fast, his face morphed into a look of surprise before it becomes a little smirk, his eyes glinting at you.

You giggle at him as he points his finger at you.

"Just you wait 'til we come back home, honey."

Seungmin:

You're backstage with your boyfriend before his next show.

He's been looking extra delicious lately, his arms on display and the leather pants hugging his figure perfectly.

He's getting ready for the performance and when he turns his back to you, your eyes rake all over him. You look around, noticing that everyone's going about their business so you decide why not just spank him once?

Just one tiny little smack, you think as you lift up your arm.

"What are you doing?"- Seungmin asks and you groan.

"How did you see me? You back is turned!"

"The shadow, silly. Are you trying to smack my ass?"- he turns to look at you with a smirk.

"No."- you say.

"No? It's okay, you can do it."- he turns his back to you again and just as you lift your hand up again, he slides away from you, snickering and running away.

"Hey get back here!"- you run after him as you both giggle.

"Catch me if you can!"- he screams back and both of you get too excited before the staff has to calm you down.

And ofcourse, you use that chance to smack him lightly.

"Happy now?"- he rolls his eyes playfully.

"Ofcourse."- you smirk.

"Mhm. I might just have to return the favor later."

Jeongin:

"Innie, I'm bored."- you huff, moving your arms and legs like you're making a snow angel on your boyfriend's bed.

"What?"- he looks up from his spot, his eyes were glued to his phone.

"I said I'm bored."- you pout.

"Didn't you tell me to be quiet so you can read your book?"- he smirks.

"I can't concentrate anymore. The letters are all becoming screwy."- you keep pouting at him.

"Alright, what can I do to make it better?"

"Entertain me?"- you try to look sweet and innocent and he laughs at your attempt.

"However shall I do that?"- he leans closer to you.

"Give me a fashion show!"

"A what now?"- Jeongin laughs again, caressing your side.

"You bought new outfits. I wanna see them."- you sit up.

"Fine, if you insist."- he rolls his eyes jokingly and gets up. You reach for him and smack his cute butt, making him jolt.

"I hope I'm getting paid well for this fashion show."- he jokes.

"Oh, you are, trust me."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny

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lostsoulofdragon · 3 months ago

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some small headcanons I got for the forest god au by @llamagoddessofficial

Please note that all the things stated down there are NOT canon, but headcanons I made up as I aggressively scourged down every bit of information I found about this au, thank you very much :)

also I’ll be heavily focusing on my favorite boy Skull (I’ll just call him Horror for now because I can handle it better) here, because why not, I love him

Sans is not opposed of letting humans do their thing. If they wander his territory, they wander his territory. He’s even turned humans fae if they showed devotion to him. Some have started a cult about him, and he finds it amusing enough to let it continue. And hey, they even protect his forest FOR HIM, so all he really has to do is care for the fae and animals, not if trees get cut down or rivers get dammed. He can just sit back and relax, and have the enjoyment of humans running around for him. He doesn’t consider it to be selfish- heck, he never showed himself to them, he didn’t start the cult. That’s on them.

He viewed the cult as… family, to some degree. After all, he turned some into his kind. After the forest of a fellow deity was lost t the humans and then the deities wrath, he watched the cult fall apart. They left his forest, leaving him to feel abandoned by them. He TRUSTED them. He never showed himself to the most of them, but he still LIKED them. They were like the most of family he ever had. And now they were gone.

Red likes humans. We all know that. But over the centuries, as they evolved, he watched them closely. So closely, that when you are fortunate enough to enter his core domain, you are faced with ancient human machines. Old pictures of random people in surprisingly good health for being tucked away in a tree in the middle of a forest. If you want to get an item of yours back after loosing it in the forest, you must trade it with him (dipping into the fae aspect here, hehe). He allows humans to stay in his domain, at least at its edges. But those that live there whisper about how many things go missing regularly. That bird that grasped your hunting knife as you left it unsupervised? Sent by the local deity. The fox pulling a bag of different tools? Reds personal thief. The deer eyeing the self made pouch of multiple layers- you get the idea.

Horror wasn’t always a hulking multilegged creature that resembles beasts. Before his rage took over, he was a humanoid deity, like the others. He allowed humans to wander through his territory and hunt and forage to a certain extent, and those that exhausted their stay just wouldn’t find any more. No more berries on the sides of the path, no more deer trails to follow. Similar to Red, he finds humans intriguing, but in a slightly different way. While Red wants to know all about the human race, Horror is content with letting them into his forest without having them fear for their safety. He allows them to hunt and forage, but no one dares to set up a permanent home there. A camp for the night, sure, but anything that indicates a longer stay than a full moon cycle will be left without food or other resources soon enough, alongside great rain and extreme temperatures that only worsen the longer the human stay.

Anyone who dares exhaust their stay even AFTER he told his animals to evade the human, made the plants temporarily close their flowers when the human was around… they learn to never upset a god the hard way. Every step they take makes water seep into their boots that never dry again. Every plant they decide to pick, it either wilts before they can consume it, or it makes them sick. The animals they slaughter put up a vicious fight. Arrows don’t harm the animals anymore. The meat turns bad in a heartbeat, or it infects the hunter with diseases or parasites. Horror allows humans to redeem themselves if they move out when he tells them, but if you decide to exhaust his hospitality even after his warning signs? You have been cast out for your life.

Horror liked his fae-underlings. He allowed them to toy with humans, but only to a certain degree. He refrained from turning humans to fae, because they could get the wrong idea. But there are stories about a certain human who was granted a special connection to his forest, and his forest alone.

#utmv #Forestgod au #lol headcanons #Enjoy #my critters :)

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celestialprincesse · 11 months ago

Note

Would you be willing to write something with Simon getting his girlfriend a little stuffie knowing that she loves them and has her ride the plush as a little welcome thing for the plush

I'm God awful at writing smut but fuck it we ball

AFAB reader, nsfw below the cut - mdni!

When Simon comes home with a pretty pink gift bag in his hand and a gentle kiss to your cheek, you're immediately as giggly and bubbly and docile as he loves you to be. The bag is from one of the expensive kids toy stores in town, the one that you can't help but ogle the window displays like a kid at Christmas every time you go past. So what if it's a little weird? You like pretty cuddly things to keep you company when your boyfriend goes away! Is that so wrong? Of course, you've amassed quite the collection by now, such is the benefit of having a partner that makes a fair bit of cash, and refuses to spend barely any of it on himself.

You're already tearing to the bedroom with the pink paper bag, jumping onto the plushy white mattress of your bed with a joyous squeal, grabbing at the fluffy white rabbit and hugging it to your chest before he's even hung his jacket up. Simon looks utterly smug with how happy you are, settling himself at the headboard and guiding you and the teddy into his lap whilst you mutter your thanks to him, a little distracted by your present.

"Gonna thank me properly, baby?" He murmurs with an appreciative look as his fingers find the meat of your hips under the fabric of your skirt, guiding them across the sinew of his denim clad thigh and feeling the way your pussy flutters through your panties. "M'kay Si." You nod, pretty puppy eyes blinking at him as he guides the thin cotton covering you to the side and rucks the hem of your skirt into the waistband so that he can see the way your cunt glistens just from riding his thigh for a couple seconds.

Simon doesn't hesitate to nudge the rabbit toy between your knees, tracing the tips of his fingers over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, making your muscles twitch involuntarily as you begin to grind down on the soft fabric, letting your nails dig into Simon's thigh. It takes a while for you to get into the rhythm of it, but Simons lusty gaze and the drag of the material against your clit has you growing tenser by the second, breaths hitching as a lump builds in your throat and your eyes fall shut. "Come on, my girl, you gonna look at me?"

When you devolve into a whimpering, shivering mess, eyelashes clumped together with the glassy sheen in your eyes, becoming overwhelmed with every little sensation. It doesn't take much prompting for the pads of his fore and ring fingers to circle your puffy clit, leaving you biting down on your lip to stifle the loud, needy moans that try to elicit from your throat. You've always been shy to cum, Simon knows that and he's always quick to help.

The fabric of the stuffed rabbit soaks under your slick as you cry out desperately, burying your face in Simons shoulder, his free hand coming to rest in your hair as you ride out your high.

๋࣭ ⭑

and you then proceed to throw said teddy in the washing machine. Twice.

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ninsletamain · 11 months ago

Text

Fluffbruary Day 6: tie | embarrassment | dessert

My contribution to RebelCaptain Fluffbruary PLUS @quarantineddreamer's super ultra amazing fic addition below the cut!!!

The lines of code on the screen were no longer making sense. Somewhere between coffees 4 and 5 of the day they had slipped from Jyn’s grasp, gone from familiar symbols to something more akin to ancient hieroglyphics–as sure a sign as any that it was long-past time for her to take a break from her assignment.

Reaching her arms skyward–tight knots in the muscles of her shoulders and along her spine protesting–Jyn glanced blearily at the alarm clock that perched neatly on the corner of the desk.

Shit. Was that really the time? She scrambled to her feet, socks slipping on the linoleum floor, and threw her hair quickly into a bun. (Or what she hoped would pass for one anyways.)

Pants. I need pants. Jyn cast about the room, throwing the covers of the bed back, checking over the back of the roller-chair she’d spent the day��no, longer than that apparently–glued to, but found nothing.

She could have sworn she had at least dropped a pair of sweatpants at the end of the bed at some point…

Cassian must have tidied up before he left (the neat freak); she hadn’t even noticed. That happened sometimes: the computer consuming her when she was locked onto a particular idea. But it shouldn’t have happened today. Today she had planned to wrap up her coursework early, surprise him…

Okay screw the pants, Jyn decided, marching from the room towards the kitchen with all the determination of a soldier approaching the battlefield.

(If a soldier’s uniform was your boyfriend’s oversized, university sweatshirt and the fight ahead was the arduous task of preparing a meal.)

It took her more than a few tries to find everything–despite how organized Cassian kept his kitchen cabinets–but before too long Jyn was staring down at the black, glinting surface of a flawlessly seasoned cast iron pan and the looming depths of a large pot, a box of spaghetti, its matching jar of sauce, and an assortment of meat and vegetables thrown on the counter beside them.

“I’ve got this,” Jyn muttered to herself, eyeing the recipe she’d taped to the fridge like it might grow fangs and snap at her. (Or catch fire and nearly burn the place down as had happened on her most recent foray into chefdom). “You’ve hacked into government systems before,” she continued. “This will be easy compared to that. A piece of cake, or a pot of pasta.” Hopefully anyways.

She checked the oven clock. If she stood any chance of getting this done before Cassian (Impossibly-Punctual) Andor came home she had to start now.

The empty apartment should have been quiet, peaceful. Instead, it suddenly seemed impossibly loud, noises swelling in her ears the longer she stood staring at the array of ingredients and tools––footsteps from the neighbor above, the distant rumble of a washing machine next door, the clicking of the fridge beside her, all clamoring in some insane harmony.

The longer she stood there waiting (for what, she had no idea) the more power the sounds seemed to hold, quick to dredge up each and every anxious thought she had been so diligently shoving to the furthest corners of her mind since Cassian had told her of his plans to travel to Yavin…

When he cooked, Cassian always had music playing. Maybe that would help. Drown out the worry and the fear.

Jyn pulled her phone from the pocket of the red hoodie and tapped a playlist at random. Something upbeat began playing, muffled through the fabric as she tucked the phone back into the pocket, rolled up the too-long sleeves of the sweatshirt, and drew a deep breath. “Alright, here goes nothing…”

Turning down the hallway that led to his apartment, Cassian smelled something…interesting.

He tried to pin down what it was. Starch, yes. Tomatoes, yes. Onions and garlic, most likely. But then there were other unexpected notes, the heat of what might have been chili powder tickling at his nostrils, growing stronger with each step closer he got to his door, and maybe the cheese he was smelling was parmesan or pecorino? The combination wasn’t exactly bad, just off–out of balance.

He thought for sure it was one of the neighbors; maybe Mrs. McCleod experimenting again–after all, she had stopped him just last week to ask him about his favorite market for finding fresh produce.

But as he passed by Mrs. McCleod’s apartment, he noticed the crack under the door was dark, a small pile of mail collecting beneath her welcome mat. She was probably away visiting her niece again. Which meant that the smell was most likely emanating from the door at the end of the hall.

His door.

Cassian tugged his tie looser, a warmth kindling in his stomach, a smile slowly spreading across his face; Jyn.

He’d insisted she should stay at his apartment while he was gone–enjoy some solitude away from distracting roommates and loud neighbors–but he hadn’t been entirely certain she would take him up on it. She’d given him a strange look at the suggestion (despite the fact that after nearly a year of dating, she seemed to spend more time in his apartment than her own) and returned to her keyboard, completely absorbed in the endless numbers and symbols flashing wildly across the computer screen at her command.

The reaction hadn’t been a total shock to him. Jyn had been unusually quiet ever since he’d first mentioned his job interview in Yavin. He’d tried to tell himself she was just preoccupied with the workload associated with the final semester before she earned her degree, but deep down he knew that she was likely asking herself the same questions as he was: If I get this job, what happens to us?

Cassian reached into his suit pocket for his key, twisted it in the lock, and slowly opened the door, his eyes tearing up at the overwhelming burn of capsaicin in the air. Dropping his backpack by the door, he followed the sound of hissing steam, music, and occasional cursing into the kitchen.

It had been just over a day since he’d seen her, but even so, Cassian had spent the plane ride home longing for the moment when he could wrap his arms tight around her again, kiss her until they were both oxygen deprived and gasping for air.

He’d envisioned a quick, eager reunion. Unable to hold himself back from rushing towards her; clumsy, grabbing hands and awkward clashing of teeth.

But then he saw her: standing in his kitchen with her hair wild atop her head, dancing from the stovetop to a nearby drawer; humming along to the song playing faintly in the background as she poked uncertainly at a pan of sauteed vegetables and shot a quick glance at a boiling pot of water–and all he could think to do was lean his shoulder into the doorframe and stare, his breath catching in his chest with a fierce and sudden ache.

Cassian knew he was helplessly, hopelessly lost–had known it for a while–but it had never been more apparent to him than in that moment, hovering at the threshold. He was certain that if he did nothing else for the rest of life but watch her, he’d still die the happiest man on earth.

She’d decided to borrow his favorite sweatshirt while he was away–red, well-worn, with Ferrix University emblazoned across the front. As she rose on her tiptoes to reach into the spice cabinet, the bottom of the sweatshirt rose too, revealing the faintest glimpse of black panties, serving in sharp contrast to the perfect, pale curve of her ass.

The sight inspired a different kind of ache. Cassian made his way across the kitchen, and placed his hands on Jyn’s shoulders. Somehow, the only words he could seem to find were, “You’re cooking.”

A string of swear words fell out of her mouth in quick succession. “I could’ve stabbed you,” she grumbled, even as she set down the knife she was holding to lean backwards into him. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I’m surprised I managed to.”

He felt her shoulders rise and fall against him. “I was distracted.”

“I can see that,” he mused. “You’re cooking. You hate cooking.”

He could just make out the faint flush that rose in Jyn’s cheeks as she glanced back at him, her hair tickling his chin. “I do hate it,” she agreed, “but I figured you’d be hungry and…well, I don’t hate you.”

A soft laugh escaped him, “What a relief.”

“Shut up.”

“No really,” he said, pulling her closer. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Do you want food or not?” Her scowl was made significantly less believable by the smile catching quickly at the corners of her mouth.

Cassian gave a considerate hum. His stomach had been rumbling as he stepped off the plane, but now a different kind of hunger was taking hold. His skin was hot beneath his suit where Jyn’s body pressed against his own; all he could seem to think of was her in his sweatshirt–in only his sweatshirt.

But Jyn seized his brief lapse of silence as an opportunity to change subjects. “So…How’d the interview go?” she asked lightly, though her muscles went tight as she dipped a wooden spoon in the red liquid that bubbled on the stove in front of her.

He watched as she blew steam away from the spoon before bringing it to her mouth to taste and wincing. “The interview was fine,” he murmured, pressing (what he hoped she would as) a reassuring kiss to the top of her head.

The smile had already vanished from Jyn’s face. “You think you got the job then?”

Cassian moved his hand slowly up and down her arm, earlier ideas already forgotten. “They made me an offer,” he admitted quietly.

“They did…” The energy seemed to have drained straight out of her–the dancing, humming, swearing woman from moments ago turned to shadow.

Like she didn’t know. Like she couldn’t feel the frantic stuttering of his heart where his chest pressed between her shoulders blades. Like she couldn’t sense him, standing right here beside her on the knife’s edge.

“I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet,” he told her. Of course I did. As though there had been anything else he could do…

“You did what?” Jyn twisted in his arms. “That is your dream job. You know you want to go, so just go. Why would you–”

“Jyn,” he cut in, and she went still–let him hold her in place for at least a moment longer while he continued. “I said yet. I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet.”

Her knuckles were white, wrapped tight around the wooden spoon. He reached past her and switched off the burners before anything could start smoking or boil over.

Cassian’s own nerves were starting to take hold. He gave a hard swallow, trying to clear the tightness from his throat. “I don’t want to go to Yavin. Not without you… I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

“What are you saying?”

“Come with me. After you graduate in the spring, come with me.”

“Cass…”

He was about to tell her she didn’t have to answer right now–to delay whatever pain he sensed was coming from inevitable rejection–when she closed her hand around his tie and tugged him closer, tilting her head back to press her lips to his.

Beneath his mouth, he could feel her smile forming, but it still took his breath away to see it when they broke apart. “Is that a yes, then?”

Jyn wound his tie tighter around her hand. “I like this suit,” she commented, eyes sweeping across the blue fabric and back to the black silk of the tie.

“I’m taking that as a yes…” Cassian told her, his attention splitting as she began to playfully undo the top buttons of his shirt.

“I cooked for you…” Her lips passed over his throat, her voice muffled.

Heat was racing up Cassian’s spine, his thoughts going increasingly hazy. “You did…” he replied, inhaling sharply as the hand not wrapped in his tie found the back of his head, fingers tugging lightly at his hair.

“I’m a terrible cook, but I cooked. For you.”

She still hadn’t answered him. Not really. He wanted an answer, a definitive answer. “What does this have to do with–”

“Are you still hungry?”

“Jyn–” he pleaded.

“Because I was thinking we should forget about the food,” she continued, her mouth brushing over his ear–words like sparks to his skin. “I changed my mind. There’s something else I want to do for you instead. Something I’m much, much better at…”

He relented slightly, instinct shoving reason aside as he tugged at the hem of the sweatshirt, her skin soft against his fingertips. “What did you have in mind?”

“You mean, aside from moving to Yavin?” she murmured with a teasing grin, pressing even closer, tips of their noses brushing, her breath warm against his cheeks.

“So that was a yes earlier…”

Jyn rolled her eyes at him. “What do you think?”

He lifted her off her feet, and she laughed, wrapping her legs tight around his torso. “I think you’re coming to Yavin with me,” he said, slightly breathless, not quite daring to believe it.

“I’m coming to Yavin with you,” she echoed, delivering a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Welcome home, Cassian.”

#myworks #fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2023 #rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #modern au

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dp-marvel94 · 2 days ago

Text

Closing Time

Summary: For pricklenettle, Phandom Holiday Truce 2024

With twenty minutes left in his shift, an unseen ghost shows up to make his night harder. Tucker does not get paid enough for this.

Word Count: 2074

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Note: Happy Truce! This story is for @pricklenettle. I went with the Prompt 2: Danny being a creepy, mysterious fellow somewhere normal like a gas station. Prompt 5 inspired me to have Tucker be the pov character, though.... well, you'll see. 😉

Enjoy!

Just twenty minutes. Twenty minutes before closing time.

Tucker sighs, repeating the words in his head as he sweeps the front of the supermarket. The broom’s bristles scrap against the floor, the sound grating against his ears. Ten feet away, his manager surveys the square of self-checkout kiosks. One lone customer, a middle-aged man, swipes his chips and soda. The machine chimes harshly as it processes the man’s credit card.

The boy lifts one hand to massage his forehead. Just twenty more minutes.

The shopper exits passed Tucker and the teen’s gaze follows, trailing to the wide glass window, to the pitch-black outside. The doors slide open, the sound of rain crashing through the front with a spray of cold droplets.

Tucker winces at the sensation. Please, please let it stop soon. Fervently, he begs in his head. Please let it stop before he has to run to the bus stop.

“Go sweep the produce section.” His manger’s nasally voice cuts through the silent pleading.

With a nod, the teen complies. He pushes the broom’s long head around the banana stand. The bristles scrape harshly as the lights illuminating the vegetable stands buzz sharply. And Tucker again rubs his forehead, gritting his teeth at the building headache.

Those stupid lights, this stupid broom. If his boss wouldn’t give him crap about it and would just let him wear headphones at work….

Tucker hums under his breath, repeating the chorus to his favorite Dumpty Humpty song in his head. Normally, that is a decent distraction from the overstimulating sounds. But this night….

The pounding of rain on the roof crescendos. Tucker shivers, suddenly cold. A draft blows through, from the outside doors at the front of the store, he assumes. The chill tickles his nose and he sneezes. Tiny, wet drops spray on his face.

Great. The boy huffs, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He’s getting the cold Danny has too, isn’t he?

At least he can go home soon and collapse on his warm bed.

Tucker goes back to sweeping, humming the same Dumpty Humpty song. He sweeps up little bites of onion peel, fallen leaves from the poinsettia display, dried mud tracked in on someone’s boots. He moves in front of the carrots and cucumbers, wrinkling his nose as water mists over the produce and sprays him.

The teen comes to the end of the produce section, to the first fridge of meat. He surveys the pork chops approvingly. Oh, those ones are on manager’s special. Maybe he should-

Suddenly, the sound of a cough cuts through his thoughts. Tucker looks up, drawn to the noise.

Two aisles over, someone about his height in a red hoodie stands with back facing him. Huh? How hadn’t noticed that person before? The clink of cans shifting in a pile sounds as they pick up a can of soup.

Tucker goes back to sweeping, eyes fixed on the head of the broom as he carefully maneuvers it between the horizontal display fridge filled with pork ribs and a shelf with an offering of barbecue sauces.

The heavy thump of a can falling and Tucker’s head jerks up again. The person in the hoodie is gone, a can of chicken noodle soup rolling across the floor.

Brow winkling, the teen approaches. He picks up the luckily undented can, returning it to the display. His head tilts, peering down the pointedly empty aisle. Where did the person in the hoodie go?

Before Tucker can contemplate the mystery, the intercom crackles. “Clean up! Aisle 10!”

Tucker sighs, rolling his eyes exacerbatedly. Really? This is the second time this shift. Please don’t be throw up again, he mentally begs. Still, he carries the broom back to the supply closet near the restrooms, collecting the bucket and mop.

The teen jerkily pulls the yellow monstrosity through the store. One of its wheels refuses to spin. “Come. On.” He mutters under his breath, annoyance growing.

He passes the lunch meat and the cheese, the butter and eggs. Approaching the aisle in question, Tucker takes a breath, preparing himself for what will hopefully be a small mess. He rounds the corner and-

Milk… all over the floor. The teen’s jaw drops. Half the length of the aisle, a good twenty feet section of the floor is covered in the white liquid.

“H… how?” He can’t help but stutter. How could someone even manage to spill this much milk?

Eyes blown wide, Tucker approaches the nearest jug. Tentatively, he prods it with his shoe. The plastic crunches at the touch, jagged cracks scrapping against each other. It looks almost shattered…as if dropped from a great height.

His eyes trail over the scene once more. A dozen more crumpled jugs litter the floor, their contents all explosively dispersed.

But…. How? How could one person do this? A flicker of unease leaps in his stomach. If he didn’t know better, he would think it was the Box Ghost’s doing. Expect these are plastic jugs, not rectangular cartons. No boxes have been touched, not cardboard the cartons of eggs come in, the microwave dinners, or the sticks of butter. And most tellingly, there are no shouts of beware.

Tucker’s nose wrinkles. It would be just his luck for Boxy to show up for the end of his shift.

The teen shakes his head, dislodging the thought. That hypothetical doesn’t matter right now. He frowns hopelessly down at the now quite insufficient mop. He’s going to need those blue absorbent puppy pads. A lot of them.

Tucker turns around, leaving the mop and bucket and starting back towards the storage room. He passes the butter and eggs again. The sign for the bathroom looms in front of him. He quickly comes to the open doorway, across from the clearance rank, and-

A puff of cold on his neck. The boy stiffens. A low whisper echoes to his right, behind him. Movement out the corner of his eye, a flicker of maroon red and neon green.

Tucker freezes, head jerking to the side to look. But… nothing.

There is nothing beside him, just the freezer of meatballs and chicken nuggets.

The lights above flicker and pop, flashing brightly at the same another whisper crackles, on his other side and full of static. Tucker’s head jerks to the sound, catching another flicker, this one of something black. His body follows the movement of his gaze, turning back the way he came.

No farther spills, no customers, no annoying boss. No one to mutter or dart passed him. The walkway is the same.

Except… a spot of neon green.

Annoyance swirling in his gut, Tucker marches up to the spot. He kneels and his brow furrows at the object. A tissue, stained with globs of glowing green.

“Freaking ghosts.” The teen curses under his breath. Of course! Of course it’s a ghost.

He picks up the tissue between two fingers, nose wrinkled in disgust. What is this? The ectoplasm looks sticky and wet, glowing between the folds of the crumpled kleenex. Like some kind of ghostly booger. From what? A ghost of the common cold?

“The store closes in five minutes!” His boss’s false cheery voice cuts through the scene. “Please bring your purchases to the front.”

Tucker groans at the words, standing. Ghost or no, he still has an aisle to clean. He hurries to the storeroom, grabbing a wad of absorbent pads. He manhandles the big black trash can with wheels, pushing it out of the closet and through the open doorway.

Then a flash of green light. A crash reverberates around the corner, back in the milk aisle.

Unthinking, Tucker takes off running. He rounds the corner, the spilled milk puddles appearing in front of him once again. A burst of cold and his legs fly out from under him.

The teen falls, landing heavily on his behind. Sudden adrenaline pounds his heart, the sound deafening in his ears. He shivers, not just from any dread but… the cold. His hand reaches for the white covering the floor, goosebumps prickling his skin. It’s frozen.

Shakily, Tucker puts his hands under him. He rises to his feet; thank goodness he’s not hurt any more than his sore tailbone. Still, his eye dart side to side, on alert.

“Look.” The teen sighs, annoyance growing. “Whoever you are, just-”

From outside, thunder crashes. The building shakes with the sound. The lights flicker, blinking out across the store.

Great, they just lost power. It’s a fleeting thought. Except-

His eyes widen at the freezers, still humming. Their fluorescent white light eerily illuminate the aisle.

“Alright.” The boy mutters, taking a step back from the slippery floor. “Dude, just turn the light back on so I can clean this.”

Ominous whispers answer, the words lost to static. To his side, a shadow passes over the freezer’s light.

Tucker turns, fumbling in his pocket. “You know what, I don’t care about the lights!” Come on. Come on. Where is that wrist ray? “Just go!”

Another boom of thunder rattles the air. The PA system shrieks, a deafening dial tone. The boy grimaces, covering his ears. Again, a shadow flickers out the corner of his eye.

The sound cuts out. The teen jerkily swivels to face the flicker, pulling out a lipstick blaster. “Don’t make me-“

The freezer door behind him slams open, the force of the glass on his back sending him to the ground. The blaster goes off, the laser sailing through the air. Harmlessly, it pings off a bakery display. Meanwhile, Tucker’s momentum sends him sliding across the slick floor on his front.

“Dude, I just want to finish my shift and go home!” The teen complains, slamming into said mid-aisle shelf.

He rolls to his side, groaning. Those bruises are going to hurt in the morning.

Neon green streaks across his vision. Again, Tucker shoots. Again, the laser flies free. And still, it fails to impact.

In response, more glass doors fling open. Three shelves collapse, dozens of frozen meals crashing onto the floor.

“Not my Hungry Man too!” The teen cries.

Back pressed against the wooden bakery shelf, Tucker pushes himself up to sit. With frustration-gritted teeth, he holds the blaster in front of him.

Static pops, filling his ears as the hum of the freezer crescendos. The ghostly fluorescent light flickers bright and dimmer. But… no hint of shadow, no ghostly green.

Eyes still intently focused ahead, Tucker reaches for his PDA. “That’s it. I’m calling Danny.” He scowls, finger over the button. “He can deal with you-“

The PDA sparks, to the technogeek’s horror. He flings it away. At the same time, a screeching reverberates, like long skeletal fingers scratching styrofoam. A milk carton rises from the open fridge. The teen stares with narrowed eyes as the plastic warps. It explodes. Drops of white liquid hang in the air for a drawn out second, before flinging across the room.

Something in Tucker snaps. He’s cold, tired, and bruised. His head hurts. His shift is almost over. Enough is enough!

“Seriously!?” He shouts, frustration giving way to rage. “I have to clean all this up?!”

In one surprisingly fluid motion, he stands. The shadows hiss, two glowing green orbs flashing into sight. They linger, just a second. But it’s enough.

Tucker shoots the blaster. And it impacts.

A pained yelp sounds. The darkness solidifies, person-shaped between one blink and the next. The green orbs, eyes, widen.

A flash of light blinds Tucker. In the next second, the store’s lights are back. The freezer doors all slam closed.

And a boy in a red hoodie crumples, falling to his knees five feet in front of him.

“Wha- Tuck?” The boy blinks, looking up.

Tucker’s jaw drops. “Danny?”

“I was in bed. What? How did I get- Acho!” A sneeze interrupts, Danny whipping glowing green snot away with his sleeve. “How did I get here?”

Tucker stares, mind churning with surprise. Then… understanding. “You!” He points accusingly. “You did this!”

“What?” Dazedly, the half ghost looks over the destruction.

“And you were, what? Sleeping haunting?!” His hands lift, exacerbated. “This is gonna take an hour to clean up!” He marches forwards, grabbing the mop and bucket, and shoving the handle at his friend. “You’re doing it!”

“But…but…” Danny stutters, blinking disbelievingly at the mess

Still, Tucker stomps away. He doesn’t get paid enough for this.

Note: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed.

I debated whether to end it with Tucker storming off or if I should show more of the aftermath but decided the quick ending worked best with the prompt I was going for. Rest assured though, like two minutes after storming off, Tucker comes back and feels really bad about losing his temper. There are mutual apologies as both clean up. Danny flies Tucker home (yay for not having to wait for the bus in the rain!). And the next day, they're laughing about the entire thing.

#Danny Phantom #Phandom Holiday Truce 2024 #Phandom Holiday Truce #Holiday Truce 2024 #my fic

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icycoldninja · 7 months ago

Note

I'm not sure if requests are open so if not feel free to skip!

Can you do the dmc boys barely saving their s/o before death? Good ol angst/comfort for both parties

They're open for the time being. Enjoy.

Saving Reader from death headcannons (Sparda boys + V x Reader)

Warning: injury, blood, near death experiences

¤ Dante ¤

-He'd made a mistake, taking you out on a mission with him. He knew he shouldn't have, but you were so eager to go and gung ho about ripping up demons, he just couldn't bring himself to crush your spirits.

-Almost as soon as you two arrived on scene, the demons fell upon you like hungry wolves to a piece of meat, mauling you, clawing at you, chewing on you, and more.

-It was lucky Dante had the reflexes he did, otherwise you would have been nothing but a bloody corpse. He'd managed to shoot the demons, knock them back, and otherwise incapacitate them enough for him to reach you.

-You were hurt, badly, but still alive. Forgetting all about the mission, Dante scooped you into his arms and carried you off to the nearest hospital, where, thankfully, the doctors were able to treat you.

-Dante spent the remainder of your recovery sitting by your bed, holding your hand with all his strength, constantly apologizing for being so stupid.

-"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I was an idiot to put you in danger like that, I-I should've known better. From now on, you're staying home, where it's safe, OK? I...don't ever wanna have to see you like this again."

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil knew demons would stoop to low, low methods to get what they wanted, but he didn't think they'd go so far as to track down where you lived and attack you in your own home.

-He'd received a phone call from you while on his way back from a mission. Expecting a loving greeting, Vergil was met with panicked screaming from the other end; you, begging for him to come home quickly because the demons had found you.

-Vergil wasted no time in portaling over, and not a moment too soon, for he'd found you cornered in the kitchen, a demon's scythe just centimeters from your throat.

-Thankfully, Vergil worked quickly and cut the demon down where it stood, preventing you from meeting what would have surely been a horrific demise.

-He was so worried and afraid about your safety, he didn't even flinch when you collapsed into his arms, weeping and wailing about how terrified you were.

-"It's alright, my dove. You are safe. I'm home. There are no more demons, not anymore. Shhh."

□ Nero □

-Nero had invited you to come with him on a quick, innocent trip to the store for groceries, thinking it'd be a great opportunity to just hang out together.

-He had absolutely no clue that demons would choose to attack the supermarket of all places on that specific day.

-The demons came in from all sides, quickly flooding the store with their ranks. In under 5 minutes, the little menaces had toppled shelving, collapsed light fixtures, rammed people with shopping carts, flung frozen food at everyone, and barricaded the doors with fallen vending machines. While Nero worked to clear an exit, the demons snuck up from above and caused a large, industrial lamp to fall from the ceiling. You were half crushed by the metal monstrosity before you even knew it.

-Nero couldn't control himself and Triggered right then and there, devoting all his attention to pulling you out of under the large light fixture. Once he'd done so, he blew open the wall using something or other and raced you to the hospital, returning to deal with the demons shortly afterward.

-He then came back to the hospital to find you alive, but in pretty bad condition, most of the bones in your legs, but thankfully not your back, having been cracked, at the very least. Nero spent the next few months of your recovery stationed in a chair by the door, head in his hands, blaming himself for not being able to save you from injury.

-"God, I'm such an asshole. I'm sorry, baby, I screwed up big time. I'm such a freaking loser. I should have been faster, shoulda followed my instincts and yanked you outta there earlier. Why the fuck didn't I do that? I suck."

● V ●

-You and V were simply enjoying a pure and romantic moonlit walk together in the city.

-Then the demons showed up out of literally nowhere, taking the both of you by surprise as they surrounded you, claws brandished and fangs gnashing.

-V summoned his familiars to dispatch them, but it wasn't enough. Some slipped through his already thin defenses and struck you with their bloodstained weaponry, inflicting countless wounds upon your body.

-V managed to kill them all off before they could kill you, but still, you were badly hurt, and if he didn't get you medical help now, you could die from your wounds.

-He did his best to get you to the nearest hospital despite his crumbling body, nearly passing out on the doorstep in the process. The doctors said they could save you, and for that, V was glad, but at the same time, he felt angry at himself for not being able to do more for you.

-"Alas, Wanderer, if only this body wasn't as fragile as paper mache. I sorely wish I were stronger, for if I wasn't so weak, I might've been able to save you. Please, forgive me."

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royallyprincesslilly · 1 year ago

Text

Title: What We Did In The Dark {3}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Language, 18+ Mature Content, Angst, Small Time Jumps, Preggo Talk, Pregnancy Trope, Talk of Pregnancy Termination

Words: 6.4k

Summary: Neither of you planned any of it. You’d met by chance, and everything that happened after had to have been predestined. Now back to your own life, you find you have a special souvenir from your time in Mauritius and you have a tough decision to make.

As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate it!

As you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

What We Did In The Dark {1}**** | What We Did In The Dark {2}* |

Chapter Three: Better An Ooops….

“Take it easy!”

You groaned as you dropped face first onto your couch and let yourself spread out across the cool white leather. After 3 days in the hospital, tens of tests, and plenty of round-the-clock vitamin treatments to get your body up to standard for your condition you were finally released with prescriptions and doctor's orders to take it easy for a few days. You’d planned to come home and jump on your laptop to finish some things up, but Villie decided to bring you in and make sure you were settled. You knew she’d done it for a reason, and it was to make sure you didn’t do what you wanted to.

“So what do you feel like for dinner?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Tough shit. You’re going to eat. Your doctors said you need to take it easy, eat 3 balanced meals a day, and keep your stress levels down. So they took care of breakfast and lunch, now we order dinner.”

Villie dropped a heavy hand across your ass making you shout into the cushions of the couch. You shifted onto your side and rolled into a ball.

“What about the Halal spot that is on Blauvelt?”

You groaned and at the thought of all that meat covered with white creamy sauce, your stomach churned like the agitator inside of a washing machine. It didn’t feel right at all. Because of it, a ball of nausea formed in your chest, but your stomach grumbled.

“See, you’re hungry,” Villie assumed.

However, that was not the case. The thought of Halal made your stomach swirl like the letter “S”.

“No Halal.”

“Burgers, Mexican, Caribbean?”

None of those sounded any better. Suddenly, Villie gasped.

“Oooh, what about that Cuban spot?”

You allowed that to simmer for a few moments and when your stomach didn’t react you slowly sat up. In your mind’s eye, you saw a towering plate of empanadas beside another plate filled with Cuban-style seafood paella and a bowl of black bean soup and tostones. You looked to Villie and found her smiling widely.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You pulled out your phone and went to your food ordering app then found the restaurant she meant. You spent the following 5 or so minutes adding everything your stomach told you that you needed and had to have or else you’d die. By the time you’d checked out, your total and quantity were insane for just two people but as far as you were concerned everything was a necessity.

While Villie waited for the order, you took a quick shower. Or it was meant to be quick. Whenever you swiped your decadently soaped-up exfoliating gloves across your abdomen you paused up and your mind wandered. There was an actual baby inside of you right now—two to be accurate. You were carrying the babies of a man you’d only slept with once, well multiple times over the span of 5ish hours. You didn’t know him and you sure as hell hadn’t planned for this to be the outcome of your wanton night of pleasure.

There were so many things on your mind, so many worries to add to the ones you already had. According to Dr. Olumici, you had already reached the cut-off point to ethically terminate with her and most other providers. However, you could find other physicians who would perform an early 2nd-trimester termination. Through your research in the hospital, you educated yourself on why it was too unethical and brought so much controversy. Once you understood you couldn’t fathom doing it.

With that answer, you also couldn’t fathom yourself carrying these babies or giving them a life. You weren’t exactly stable in your life or career. You’d only just begun the path and had so many other things planned to accomplish before the whole adding to the population of the world thing. That meant you had a predicament on your hands that now only had one resolution—adoption. Even that didn’t sit right with you. Could you go on living your life knowing you had a life somewhere else in the world living, a being that came from you, a being you wouldn’t know in any way?

So you spent the entire shower going back and forth over your options but that only sent you into an endless circle with resolutions that weren’t real ones because they posed more problems and raised more questions. By the time you came out of the shower and returned to the living room, Villie was lost in her phone with the food spread out across your coffee table.

“That was longer than usual.”

“Yeah, I smelled like a hospital, I needed to smell like me.”

Villie nodded then grabbed the bottle that was in the center of the table, “Did you know you can get alcohol delivered off of Dash?”

You snorted. Leave it to her to try. You took a seat on the floor beside her ready to dig in but her phone resting on the table caught your eye. It was the picture of the man who’d showed up at the hospital, the one you’d rear-ended.

“You found him on socials already?”

Villie glanced at her phone then scoffed. “It wasn’t hard. Take a guess who he’s connected to.”

You thought about it for a second but the smells wafting from the containers took your attention. You went through pulling off the tops of the food containers and moaning as each new smell filled the room.

“Oh my god, I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now.”

Without another word, you dug into the food filling your plate with a lot of everything. Once you were satisfied with the bites you had taken you glanced back at Villie who was wide-eyed.

“What?”

“Glad to see your appetite has come back.”

You nodded and continued stuffing your face. Over the last few days, though you hadn’t vomited, you felt small bouts of nausea that came and went and the look of most of the hospital food left you not wanting to eat much. You’d worried it was going to be a permanent thing, but those worries were put to rest now.

“So, guess who he’s connected to,” Villie broached again.

“I don’t know,” you said mouth full of food.

Villie grabbed her phone and slid across her screen then held it up to you. When you looked, Lewis Hamilton’s face filled her screen. You gasped forgetting your mouthful of food then immediately began choking from the few particles that went down the wrong pipe.

“Oh my god!”

Villie leaped to her knees, patted your back with one hand, and poured some of the dark liquid from the bottle into a glass before she handed it to you. As you brought it to your nose your stomach turned from the strong scent of alcohol. You put the glass back on the table and shook your head. Villie kissed her teeth and then hurried to the kitchen before she came back with a bottle of water. You took several gulps in between coughs trying your best to dislodge the food that was stuck in your windpipe.

After a few attempts, you took a deep breath and hung your head back.

“Are you all right?”

You nodded, wiping your eyes from the tears that had slipped out.

“Jesus. I know the man is fine, fine but get a grip,” Villie teased.

You scoffed then pressed your palms to your face.

“Wait. Eh-em, you’re telling me the man I ran into is connected to him?”

“Yep. His name is Miles Chamley-Watson. He is the BFF to Lewis Hamilton, like for real BFF shit. They go everywhere together.”

Your eyes were bugged as you pieced it together. How small was this fucking world? How was this even real? The more you thought about it you began to wonder if he was in Mauritius with him. If so, did he know who you were?

“Oh my god.”

“Right! Like we kind of hit it off. I’m not gonna say there was flirting but there was flirting.”

“So you’re interested in him?”

Villie smiled as she drank down the glass of rum she’d poured for you. “I might be. What do you think? Do you think I shouldn’t be?”

How were you supposed to answer that? If she pursued things and they ended up becoming a thing didn’t that mean eventually one way or another you and Lewis would interact with one another? If you did wouldn’t he find out about the babies? If he found out--. The thought paused as a bigger item zipped itself up the agenda. Would he even remember you? He was after all Lewis Hamilton. You were sure there was no shortage of women he spent his time with. Why would he remember you from one night and 5 hours?

“Y/N?”

“Uh—um, well--.”

You saw the hope in her eyes and knew you couldn’t minipulate this because of your situation. Sighing you took her hand. “Valenza, I saw something between y’all. I say go with it and enjoy yourself. Who knows this could be it.”

Villie screeched then began laughing like an erratic high schooler who’d just learned their crush liked them back. Smiling you went back to eating. As Villie talked about Miles for a few more minutes your mind was lost in its own world. This shit was getting even more complicated.

~~~~~~~

4 Weeks Later

Your eyes never left the front door of 4057 Lake Drive Blvd. You’d been sitting in your car for the last 3 hours obsessively staring at the door with one hand on your steering wheel while the other rested on the door handle. You’d had every intention of getting out of your car and going inside 2 hours ago. However, that didn’t work out. Every time you tried to force your feet to move they didn’t. Instead, you sat outside the women’s health center as the time clicked closer and closer to your appointment until that same time clicked further and further away from your appointment time.

Now you were a whole 2 hours past your appointment time with no progress on getting out of the car. As you sat here you went over every single option over and over and over. You interjected every variable, every single con to every single choice. However, with every con, you found yourself seeing just as many pros. Now it was impossible to tell what the right decision was.

Never in your life had you thought you’d consider termination let alone a 2nd trimester one, but you were finding out that in most decisions no one knows what they would do until they are in it. You didn’t think you’d have unprotected sex with a stranger in your life but when the moment came you were one hundred percent DTF (down to fuck).

You closed your eyes for probably the hundredth time and took several deep, slow breaths. On the fifth one, you held it and allowed your heartbeat to steadily slow until it beat low and evenly. It was a trick you’d done most of your life to calm yourself and think clearly. When everything fell away, including the sounds of traffic, the sounds of the city you loved, and even the drum of your engine, you were left with your heartbeat and the rustling of the palm leaves. It was then that you felt the butterfly fluttering sensations again.

When you’d first felt them a week ago you hadn’t known what they were, and it took a few days to recognize what they were. Every Google search confirmed it—fetal movements. That was when it all became real and right now sitting in front of the health center where a doctor was waiting to perform your termination that you were now 2 hours late for because you were panicking and waiting for a sign to show you the right path to take, did it really become real.

Your hands left their current positions, the steering wheel and the door handle, and drifted to your belly which was now ever so slightly poked out. As if the minuscule beings inside of you knew your hands were there the fluttering intensified, crippling you with emotion. You dropped your head onto the steering wheel and allowed yourself to cry for the first time.

What could have been mistaken for sad tears weren’t. They were tears of resolution, tears of understanding, tears of acceptance—of fear. This was your sign, your answer, your path, and you were scared shitless. So your tears flowed down your cheeks and dripped all over you soaking your top. Even then you didn’t stop, you let it all out even turning up the music to drown out the sounds of your sobs.

From this moment forward, your life would never be the same and from this moment forward, you would face whatever came your way on this path with one thought in mind—what was best for your babies. When your tears finally subsided you wrapped your arms around your midsection, hugging yourself and the lives within you, and took a deep breath.

“Okay. I didn’t expect you and I surely didn’t plan you, but I won’t get rid of you. I hope you don’t regret choosing me because you’re stuck with me, and I promise I will do everything to protect you from today onward. Be gentle and patient with me and we’ll learn together.”

As if your words were heard, the flutters returned making you smile. pressing your head back on the headrest you sighed and tried to formulate a plan. That was when your phone rang sending audio caller ID off.

Villie calling. Villie calling. Villie calling.

You scoffed. Even the universe knew the plan was to tell Villie because she was good at coming up with a plan that ensured you were the primary benefiter. Truthfully, you should have told her weeks ago but since your release from the hospital she’d been spending a lot of time with Miles. Though he lived in the UK, they were always on Facetime dates, they’d now met up in London 3 times and you were sure she knew what Miles Jr looked like.

You hadn’t wanted to make things weird between them or add any stress given the truths of your situation. You really had wanted to keep things separate. Now with you deciding to keep the babies and raise them, there was no way you could keep everything from her anymore. She was your best friend after all. Tapping the answer button, you buckled yourself in.

“Hey V.”

“Hey. Where are you?”

“Umm--,” you stretched as you pulled out of the parking lot of the medical center and onto Berman Street.

“Getting on the highway, what’s up?”

“I feel like shopping. Are you down?”

“Yeah, tell me where to meet you.”

The drive through South Beach was unlike any drive you’d done before. Over the last few weeks, you’d been tense and stressed out to the max. It was evident in the way you gripped the steering wheel and sat in your seat. Now you felt differently. You were more relaxed, and more centered but also more cautious. You found yourself stopping and allowing more women and children cross even if they didn’t have the right of way, found yourself driving slightly below the speed limit and following every single traffic law that was in the driver’s manual that you’d neglected mere weeks before.

By the time you parked and fed your meter, you were 10 minutes late and intensely craving a massive green smoothie. After getting not one but two, you found Villie already well into her shopping in one of the lingerie stores.

“What took you so long?”

“Traffic and I needed a smoothie. So for you, shopping starts with lingerie.”

“Of course.”

You chuckled then began going through the racks. There were tons of cute stuff, but you knew soon you wouldn’t fit any of it and you had no one to wear any of this for. With that thought you looked at Villie.

“Valenza Tamina Chord, are you stocking up for a particular event?”

She smiled widely then walked off.

“No, no. Don’t try to slip away. What’s going on?”

“Miles is coming to town in a few weeks for a week and--.”

“You plan on getting your back broke, throat bruised, and internal organs rearranged. Okay!”

Villie giggled as she took down a navy blue strappy number that would look great on her and examined it.

“Okay I don’t know about throat bruised but the rest of it yep.”

You snorted and shook your head. “First of all, get that, it’ll look phenomenal on you. Second, let’s see if you have a voice when he comes.”

“Oh my god, Y/N, he is so cool, such a good guy.”

“He seems like it. I’m glad you’re having fun you deserve it.”

Villie’s eyes landed on you and for a few moments she studied you. “I’m not the only one who deserves it, you do too.”

You nodded and walked away to another rack and idly went through the hangers.

“I mean it. You’ve been single for long enough don’t you think?”

“I have a lot going on Villie. I don’t need another thing to worry about.”

“I understand what you mean but sometimes if it’s the right thing it doesn’t become a worry but something to bring you happiness, and peace.”

You sighed the words at the tip of your tongue but with no way to come out. This wasn’t something you could blurt out and be done with. You knew Villie, she would want to dissect everything on top of wanting a play-by-play of your dick down. This conversation couldn’t be had in the middle of a lingerie store.

“When do we meet the creative director of the station?”

“Boo! Always changing the subject. Fine, whatever. Next week is the meeting. Their name is Sadie Walters and she sent over some ideas for her vision along with some papers to understand your vision. So you got some homework.”

“Okay. I’m excited to get this off the ground and get back to traveling.”

“Workaholic. One day you will regret working so much and pushing your personal life to the side.”

You turned your back and quietly scoffed. If she only knew how little time you would have for a personal life in the next few years she’d take that back. For the next several hours you dipped in and out of almost every store adding bags and bags of clothes, shoes, makeup, and body products until you both were exhausted. After you had dinner at a nearby steakhouse where again you ate nearly everything in sight. When you both split at the end of the night you attempted to get the words out but still you couldn’t. You weren’t quite ready, and you worried you would be really showing before you were ever ready.

~~~~~~

-2 Weeks Later-

Pop!

The champagne bottle top flew across the room colliding into the wall, making everyone cheer and clap. After so many weeks of work with finishing up your catalog, the vacation wear line, and getting the behind-the-scenes stuff of your travel show down everything was signed, sealed, and done. Tomorrow was the release of your catalog and vacation wear line, and you were absolutely freaking out.

“Oh my god. Thank you everyone!”

You went around your office and hugged each and every one of the people who helped you get here. You wrapped your arms around Zavier and squeezed.

“Thank you Z, you made this catalog incredible. I cannot thank you enough!”

“Congratulations. You’re more than welcome.”

Next, you moved on to Sabrina and Chloe, the interns who’d been hired to maintain some of the back-end things. “Thank you beautiful souls.”

“You’re welcome!”

When you moved to Villie she rocked you side to side. That was when the waterworks started.

“Oh Villie, thank you, thank you!”

“Shut up. I don’t need thank yous. I am so happy for you. It’ll be no time now before you are bigger than Anthony Zimmerman.”

“Girl, we are not alike. He travels to eat everything; I travel to party.”

Everyone laughed at that. When Villie handed you a glass of champagne you froze.

“We have to drink to you and all that you’ve accomplished and to this amazing team of ours,” Villie said holding her glass up.

Everyone followed her and tapped their glasses together. You brought the glass to your lips, but you didn’t take a sip as they all did.

“Thank you guys so much for all your hard work and dedication to these projects. It means the world to me.”

You hoped they understood how much they meant to you though you couldn’t fully express it because if you did, you knew you would cry uncontrollably which would be weird. You were having a hard time keeping your emotions under control over the last two weeks as your pregnancy progressed. You saw a dandelion blow away from a hard gust of wind earlier and that made you cry for the poor dandelion that would never be seen again. With that, you knew your emotional state was highly unbalanced.

When the bottle of champagne disappeared, everyone started to file out to get on with their own days leaving you and Villie. You scrolled through the virtual catalog in complete awe. You couldn’t believe that after so many months it was over and would be out for the world to see. The pride you felt was indescribable. You’d accomplished this without using anyone's clout, or influence to elevate it. You didn’t have any major help, most of it was compiled by you using your skills and talents. It wasn’t until near the end had you brought on more expertise. This was your baby.

“I can’t believe this is done, V.”

She doesn’t reply. When you felt her approach, she pulled up a chair beside you then sighed. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me what’s been going on with you since you were released from the hospital.”

You paused and fought the rapid beating of your heart because you knew she would hear it in the quiet office. “Uh--.”

“I’ll give you a few moments to come up with what you are going to say to come clean with me but the words out of your mouth better be the truth. I’ve let you go for all this time but right now I’m getting offended and hurt that you don’t feel like you can talk to me.”

You spun to her and grabbed her hands. “No, no. Villie, that’s not it I swear!”

“No? Then what else could it be, Y/N?”

You sighed then found your words. Gripping her hands tighter you looked at her. “Okay look. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how and honestly I didn’t know until a few weeks ago and since then I have been a mess trying to wrap my head around it and future my shit out. It’s a lot happening.”

“Are you sick? Please don’t tell me you have cancer.”

“What? No! I don’t. I’m not sick.”

Villie let out a relieved huff of breath then took a steadying one. “Then what? What is going on?”

“I’m—I’m—pregnant.”

Villie just stared at you with a blank expression. She didn’t move, she didn’t even look as if she were breathing. Leaning forward you studied her closer trying to gauge just what she was thinking. Biting your bottom lip you prepared yourself to repeat the words but just as you opened your mouth to, Villie sprang to her feet.

“What! P—pr—pregnant?”

She walked to the far side of the office. “I know you fucking lying.”

“Uh--.”

“No. It’s a lie. There is no way. How did you get pregnant? When?”

You understood her reaction. You hadn’t told her about your night with Lewis because you didn’t want to be one of those girls who bragged about spending the night with a celebrity and you honestly were kind of embarrassed by everything that happened that night. You’d turned into a completely different person and when the sun rose, and you’d found your limbs entangled with his and your very naked bodies still connected under the massive palm tree that was tucked out of sight you’d felt stupid and easy so you ran as fast as you could without looking back. As far as she knew you’d been in a sex drought for 2 years.

“Y/N!”

“Calm down. I should be the one freaking out. I’m the pregnant one.”

Villie’s eyes widened.

“I’m not lying. I am pregnant. I found out at the hospital after the accident and that’s what’s been going on for the last few weeks. I was trying to wrap my head around it all and figure out what I wanted to do about it. Because of everything that I have going on I didn’t think I could continue this, so it’s been a stressful few weeks,” you rushed out.

Ville was still standing across the room and now looking at you like you had two heads. “You’re not fucking with me?”

“I’m not fucking with you. I promise.”

Instantly Villie crossed the room to you taking you into her arms and hugging the life out of you. “Oh, honey.”

With your best friend comforting you, your tears began flowing. When she heard your sniffles she pulled back and pouted. “You’re really pregnant?”

Nodding, you sniffled some more. Villie’s tear-filled eyes overflowed and the two of you hugged again and ugly cried together. Relief filled you as you relished the comfort of the one person who's had your back for over a decade. You weren’t alone with this anymore. You knew without a doubt that Villie would have your back the entire way.

When the two of you sat back down, you both wiped your tears and snot and laughed at each other for being so emotional about it.

“Oh my god, Y/N.”

“I know.”

“Oh my god,” Villie repeated.

“I know, I know. It’s huge.”

“Huge? This is—colossal. You’re pregnant.”

You nodded, “I am.”

“You’re pregnant with a baby, like a real baby.”

“Ha, try two babies. Two real babies.”

Villie shot to her feet again.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Girl I nearly passed out when I found out.”

Villie screeched then and practically tackled you with another hug. “Twins! Aah, Y/N, how precious is that?!”

You snorted. Of course she would be the one to die over the cuteness of it all. Villie dropped back into the seat, then reached for your belly. When she realized it was not flat her eyes became the size of the moon.

“Holy fucking shit, Y/N. This feels so real.”

“Oh it’s real. It’s so real I have had to sideline 3 of my favorite pairs of jeans already and I’m not even halfway there yet.”

“So you’re keeping them, right? You better be keeping them.”

“I’m keeping them. I couldn’t do the procedure. It didn’t feel right in my heart.”

Villie nodded. “I get that. It’s different to hold my hand through mine than be the one in the stirrups getting your own. It’s a decision every woman has to make for herself.”

A few moments of silence stretched as both of you thought back to when Villie ended up pregnant barely one year into law school. Her then asshole boyfriend freaked and went as far as to transfer schools just to get away from the whole thing. After hours of tears, weeks of lamenting, and one in-depth heart to heart she decided it was best to terminate. So, you held her hand through the whole thing and per her request, the two of you never spoke of it again.

Squeezing her hand for comfort, you continued, “It was simply too late for me to have a clear conscious about it. Then I got a sign showing me what to do and—yeah, here we are.”

Villie squeezed your hand again. “Well, I am happy for you honey. You are going to be an amazing mom.”

You groaned. “Mom. V, this is insane. The show, the catalog, the line, all the traveling I’m going to be doing, the chaos of filming. I can’t do this, right?”

“Of course you can do this. You’re not going to be alone doing it either. I will be here. I will be with you for every single thing, ultrasounds, Lamaze, nursery planning, hospital bag packing, birth, and every day after. You’re not alone and you can do this,” she assured in her attorney voice.

Slowly you nodded as her words sank in filling you with confidence. Suddenly Villie gasped.

“Hold up. When did this happen? Who!?”

You let her hand go, stood, and grabbed your stuff.

“Let’s go to my place.”

Villie looked cautiously at you. “Oh god, is it Zavier?”

“What! Hell no.”

“What do you mean hell no? Zavier is fine as hell. You have seen his abs right and his tight ass?”

“Oh my god V, stop sexualizing Z.”

“I’m not. I’m just asking if you have seen his abs and his ass.”

“Yes, I have seen them and yes they are great.”

“Not to mention he is crushing so hard on you, has been for like a year now.”

“Shut up, he hasn’t.”

Villie rolled her eyes as she walked out the door first. “Oblivious fool. Can’t stand you bitches who don’t notice when you have men wrapped around your finger. until it's too late”

You snorted, “Who you calling a fool?”

The bickering continued as you made your way to your cars. When you separated to drive there separately, you made a quick stop at the Cuban spot near your house and once again picked up enough food for an army. When you got home Villie was already waiting for you. She helped you line out the food on the coffee table and get drinks ready, then you dug in. Halfway through eating Villie turned to you to press further.

“I know you’ve been stalling. Spill it already. Is he some struggling cartel clown who thinks he's next in line but is still the errand boy?”

“God no.”

“One of these struggling Miami rappers who swear they got bars but really don't understand the meaning of the word?”

You chuckled. “No.”

“Oh, a struggling underwear model who--.”

“Why do they all have to be struggling?”

“Because you’re stalling which means you’re either embarrassed of him or you regret letting him hit and most likely it’s because you’re ashamed of who he is.”

“I’m not—embarrassed or ashamed of him per se.”

“Okay if not who, then tell me when. When did this happen?”

“Mauritius.”

Her eyes widened again.

“Holy shit, did you Stella Got Her Groove Back on some hot barely legal island bway and brought back your very own Mauritian souvenirs.”

You busted out laughing sending food out of your mouth and onto the floor beside you.

“Wait, wait, wait. Barely legal isn’t my thing and since when have I been out of commission long enough to Stella Got Her Groove Back on anyone?!”

“It’s been 2 years, Y/N. You’re honeytrap was growing cobwebs.”

You laughed loudly again loving the feeling. It had been too long since you’d laughed like this.

“First of all. Fuck you!”

Villie laughed along with you.

“No, it’s who fucked you?”

You hugged her and rocked from side to side.

“Oh I love you Villie.”

“Love you too honey. That doesn’t mean I am letting this go. Tell me already.”

“Fine. Lewis Hamilton.”

Villie gave you a “yeah right” look then busted out laughing. She laughed so long that it gave you more time to keep eating. Slowly she realized you weren’t laughing with her and slowly she stopped.

“I didn’t mean lie to my face.”

“Who’s lying?”

Villie stared at you for a few moments then you watched every cell in her body light up until her face was bright and her eyes wide. That’s when it happened. She screamed. You nodded your head because it was either this reaction you’d expected or the complete disbelief. You’d gotten them both.

“No fucking way!”

“Oh yes fucking way.”

“You had sex with Lewis Hamilton in Mauritius? Oh ho ho, details. I need every single piece of information starting with who said the first word to whom, moving on to are his hands as big as they seem, then what he smells like, then can he kiss, then not skipping any minuscule detail like boxers or briefs, circumcised or not and finally how big and can he lay pipe.”

She screeched again, grabbed her bottle of beer, turned to you then cleared her throat. “Okay, begin.”

She was an absolute trip. You spent the few hours going over every detail of that night that you dared to with Villie. You even let her know how free you’d been with yourself and all the things you’d let him do to you, all the ways you’d let him have you and claim your body. With every piece of info, Villie looked like she was near an aneurysm. When you told her how you’d let him into your back door she lost her shit. She screamed so loud you were sure your neighbors would call the police thinking foul play was afoot.

By the time you finished, Villie was laid out on her back with a dazed look on her face staring at the ceiling as if she had been the one who’d gone through probably the best night of fucking ever recorded by man or woman. You gave her a few minutes to recover and let it all sink in and used the time to finish off the food.

“Oh my god, Y/N.”

Villie sat up panting, her hair a mess.

“Are you good?”

“Am I? Are you? All of that went down?”

“All of that went down. I got back to my hotel room and didn’t recognize myself in the mirror.”

“You a freak, freak, freak!”

Both of you laughed some more.

“I can’t believe you.”

“I know. Mauritian rum is no fucking joke.”

“No. I can’t believe you left him there naked in the sand. Why!?”

“What? Why? You’re joking. I couldn’t stay.”

“Why?”

“Because it was over, it was one night and—I—I,” you sighed. “I was embarrassed. I felt like a fool.”

“You were embarrassed to have slept with Lewis Hamilton?”

“Partly. You’ve heard the rumors about him, heard the stories of him having a harem and contractual relationships that center around sex and extravagance, and here I went and fell for him.”

“Wait, fell for him, fell for him?”

You sighed and thought back to your conversation and the vibe between you.

“I don’t know. I’d had a lot to drink that night and was on a high after that folk dance with the island’s natives and there was something when our eyes met through the flames of the fire. There was something that made me fall enough to let all that go down.”

“Do you like him?”

“I don’t know him. I don’t know I felt like I became this whole other person that I have never been before but it didn’t feel like a mask or me pretending and it makes me wonder why did it come out with him and not anyone else?”

Villie nodded. “So instead of finding out why by staying till he woke up, you ran away and brought back 2 souvenirs with his DNA that you now have to find a way to tell him about.”

“Tell him? Why would I tell him?”

Villie looked at you with incredulity. “You’re joking.” She stared at you longer then scoffed when she realized you weren’t. “No, Y/N, you have to tell him. Don’t you think he deserves to know he will have 2 children running around with his DNA?”

“---No.”

“Y/N--.”

“Okay wait. I can see how you would say yes and well—maybe—yes. Fuck. How do I tell him this Villie? Do I just DM him on Insta and be like hey remember me? He probably won’t if the stories are true he’s had nights like this plenty of times. What do I say?”

“Who cares about the stories, the rumors, and any of that other noise. Right now you are pregnant and you’ve decided to keep the babies—his babies. You have to tell him and let him figure out if he remembers you, and decide what he plans on doing. Whatever he decides won’t affect you. If he decides to man up great then you figure it out. If he decides to deny, deny, deny then fine, move on.”

You heard her words. They made plenty of sense, but you were still apprehensive. You didn’t want to be perceived as that girl. The one who showed up with a pregnancy from one night or a situationship where terms were clear.

“This is messy, Villie.”

“It is but what isn't messy these days? Oh my god, Miles.”

You looked at her as she finally thought about her connection to all of this.

“He’s his bestie right, and now your boo thang.”

Villie smiled at those words then scoffed. “The world is so fucking small.”

“Tell me about it,” you replied.

The two of you sat quietly for a few moments both in your own heads about your situation.

“Well, you have an in to talk to him when you’re ready to tell him about the pregnancy.”

“What in? Miles?”

“Yeah. We’ll tell him and ask if he can get you a face-to-face.”

“Face to face? Villie.”

“Is this the kind of news you really want to send over socials, text messages, or word of mouth?”

You hated when she was right.

“Also from a legal standpoint, if you kept this from him now and he somehow found out years down the line, he could file a lawsuit against you and seek damages.”

“From little ol' me?”

“If he was feeling really butt hurt, that’s the minimum of what he could do legally,” Villie confirmed.

You sighed then dropped back onto the floor. Your hands instantly went to your stomach and you felt your slight bump. This shit was messy and had the potential to get even messier. Villie was right though, you did have to tell him, it was the right thing to do.

Looking at it from a different angle, it was better to say "Hi remember me, oops I’m pregnant" than not and wonder what if.

You closed your eyes and groaned. Your life had turned upside down in the span of a few months and once again it was all because of the things you’d done in the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton blurb #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x reader #what we did in the dark series

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saccharinosis · 7 months ago

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IN OUR AMBER HOUSE (M!Yandere OC x GN!reader) - 1.9k words

(Warnings: manipulation?? General yandere things yeah under cut)

WHERE WAS HE? Anxious eyes peeked through the veil of blinders, panning across sun-soaked suburbia. Previously grey skies diffused with splashes of tangerine and rosy inks glowed above asphalt roads, hugged by pavement and dirty gold lawns which preceded duplicate houses—houses that harboured spouses who just arrived home to their loved ones. Yours was not one of them.

You glanced back at the clock; ‘5:32pm’, it read. It only takes him twenty minutes to get home—what's taking him so long? He was always the punctual type.

Anxiety twisted your thoughts into a web of indecipherable ramblings: what if he got into an accident at work? Or a car crash coming home? What if he decided to abandon you just like everyone else? What were you to do then? You couldn’t survive on your own. The train ticket hidden beneath the laundry machine weighed heavy on your conscience. Guilt seeped into the open wound of worries, for ever thinking anything sinful of his character. He was your lifeline.

Or maybe…

Maybe you should step outside—

Tires crackled. False storm clouds climbed out an exhaust pipe’s silver chimney, revving thunder. Your wide eyes glued themselves to the window. The aegean blue vintage Camaro rolled into view. He’s home.

You sprinted from the window to the entrance. Through the door you could hear the thumping of his powderhorn boots, soon coming to a halt. The jingling of metal alerted you to back away from the entrance. When the door creaked open, you jumped, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the faux fur of his hood. A deep inhale; the faint scent of ashwood, pumpkin spice and vanilla was familiar to you. You felt the vibrations of chuckles from within his chest, arms slithering around your waist.

“Sorry I’m late, honey. I forgot something at work,” he said softly.

His words carried a certain lilt, weightless and airy, leaving you full of sweet nothings and starved of candour. Did he really? You decided not to reply, tightening your grip as if he’d vanish into thin air.

“Aw,” he removed one of his arms, tilting your chin up with a finger, “were you worried about me?” Gold were his eyes, flecked with scarlet. Amber.

“... yeah,”

He brushed aside your hair, planting a kiss on your forehead. He moved to your cheek, the bridge of your nose, the side of your jaw—you attempted to pull away from the onslaught of kisses, but his grip tightened, keeping you in place.

“Lovel—”

Your protests were subdued when his lip met yours. The hand on your waist pulled your bodies flush against each other, while the other cradled the back of your head, fingers entangled in locks of hair. A tantalising heat roiled in your chest as you reciprocated with overwhelming fervour. When you were just about running out of air, he let you pull back, winded.

“You were saying earlier?” Lovel asked, his own breathing slightly heavier.

“Uh—I should go finish cooking,” you pressed your hands against his chest.

“Let me help you then.”

As you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t find the words to refuse. Your hands ghosted over the base of his neck, feeling sheepish as he stared, before helping him unzip his olive green coat. It slid off with the ease of a snake shedding its skin, and you hung it upon the coat rack while he kicked off his boots. In just a moment his hand intertwined in yours, leading you to the kitchen which held your work-in-progress.

Muted sunlight drifted through the windows, leaving the corners and crevices of the room vignetted. Upon the porcelain enamel countertops rested a cutting board alongside a myriad of vegetables. Nearby, a stream of steam billowed from the vents of the rice cooker whose red light flickered, already prepared. Thawed meat sat in a large pan on the burner.

“I’ll handle the meat. Would you cut the rest of the vegetables for me?”

You nodded. He patted your head, moving to the stove. As you returned to work, you couldn’t help but take glances at your fiance from the corner of your eye. He looked to be in his element, the sleeves of his black turtleneck pulled to his elbows as he shifted the pan around. A mellow tune, so relaxed yet precise, rose and fell from his throat like a threaded needle weaving through silk. You turned back to the cutting board, knife hovering above a stalk of scallions.

You were grateful, truly grateful, that in spite of all your other friends, he was the only one who stayed by your side. That when university and life’s unfortunate happenings reared their ugly heads, he was always there to listen and lend you a shoulder. He was the only one who cared about you. He was the only one who loved you.

And it was suffocating.

The same day reiterated itself. You wake up. You get dressed. You wish Lovel a good day at work. You do insignificant tasks. You wait for him. You greet him when he gets home—actually, that’s the only time when you felt like life had any meaning. Although there’s twenty-four hours in a day, your life was sequestered to the golden hour when he was home, when the etiolated sun rolled gold fog over the neighbourhood (and sometimes, what felt like in your head). You loved him. Yet something about the way he loved you left you feeling hazy; the perpetual golden hour, the stagnant sunlight like a flickering bulb in a dusty attic, it was all-consuming.

“What’re you thinking about?” he whispered, his breath fanning your ear.

A chill rushed through you. His hands rested on the counter on either side of you, your back pressed against his chest.

“It’s nothing.”

You felt the weight of his gaze sear into your skin. Your eyes fixated on the cutting board in front of you; the knife slipping from your trembling grasp. Huh. You didn't realise you were shaking. He hummed, fingers thrumming over the countertop.

“You wouldn’t hide anything from me, right?”

You shook your head.

“Use your words.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Good.”

He pressed his lips against your temple. Yet the air remained thick with tension, cloying your visage.

“I’m feeling a bit nauseous actually,” you said, removing one of his arms around you. “I’m going to the washroom.”

You left without another word, his stare glued to your back until the hallway turned around the corner. Almost instantly, the heavy atmosphere receded. You shook off the rest of the nerves as you walked. The hall itself stretched on, lined doorway after doorway which glowed dimly under marigold lights. One of such arcs emitted a light brighter than the rest.

You paused. To the right, the sun chiselled a passage between flowing curtains, its lustrous path resting at your feet. Its glimmer enveloped you in a trance, and thus you followed it: a moth to a flame, step by step. With a slight tug at the fabric, you unveiled a sky rippling of tuscan and silver, goldleaf clouds dappled across its expanse—your backyard, still like a painting. The only thing that stood between you and the outside was a glass door. You twisted your head back to the hallway. No one was there. It’ll be okay, you thought. You’ll just take a quick look.

Your hands gripped the edge of the panel, pulling it open merely a smidge. Crisp autumn wind caressed your face, and compared to the stale air inside, you’ve begun to realise liberty’s absence. You dragged the door the rest of the way, invigorated with newfound confidence. Tucked by the entrance was a pair of grey slippers a few sizes bigger than yours, beckoning you to wear them. Your heart pounded. It took but a second to slip them on. It took a few more for you to leap over the border and meet dirt. The grass reached its bowed arms over the exposed skin of your feet, swaying alongside your movements. You couldn't hold back the laugh bubbling up your throat as you hopped further down the yard.

Something twinkled in the sandy sky. You looked up. The sky’s gift landed atop your nose—a snowflake. For a moment you could examine its byzantine structure: geometric symmetry, hexagonal lattices forming crystalline branches. Mother nature’s perfect selenite flora, and just as fragile. Opaque white thawed into a glassy dome, almost like a snowglobe.

“What are you doing out there?”

Lovel’s voice piqued your ears. You tensed. Twisting around, his golden gaze flared in the sunset. He was omnipresent.

He murmured softly, similar to coaxing a hare, “Come back in, you’ll get cold.”

You hesitated.

“(Y/N). Come back.” Now.

That tender smile returned to his face as you ambled up the porch. An arm reached around your shoulder, as if he thought you might get lost. Together, you walked back inside. Back home. Another iteration.

When you turned, attempting to get one last glance at the backyard, he had already pulled the curtains close. Gold. Yet sunrays seeped through the sheer polyester, giving it a luminous, almost gelatinous quality. Like resin beginning to set. He turned to face you.

“If you wanted to go outside, you could’ve asked me.”

‘What does it matter if the answer is no?’ you thought, the sour words held back by the cage of your lips, but not through your eyes. He read your expression.

“Winter’s soon. We both know you’re more susceptible to cold. Do you remember last year?”

“... Yeah.”

“And what kind of future husband would I be to let my love get sick like that again?”

Whatever irritation you harboured melted off from the heat creeping up your face; you looked away. It seemed he always knew what to say.

“We can continue this later. I finished dinner.”

The guilt-ridden wound throbbed dully. You really couldn’t do anything without him. From frustration, to endearment, to shame he orchestrated your emotions in a contorted cacophony until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other started. The world around you blurred as your mind focused on the saline aftertaste of discomfort on your tongue. It is in your best interest to stay. Even so, you think that maybe there’s a world waiting for you outside this house. You want to bask in the extraordinary life of an average person: getting a job, buying a car, being independent.

Your eyes drift down to your feet. Gold wraps around the edge of your toes, ever so languidly creeping up the rest of your figure. Maybe it's too late. Maybe the amber had already crystallised, encasing your body to the confines of your own home.

But when you thought back to that snowflake, so bright and delicate, you couldn’t help but hope. That with the winter and the death of all things so would this old life find its conclusion; and in the dawn of liquescence you’d break through the icy surface, riding the springtide.

“.../N)?”

Twin suns melted the mirage of your mind. Lovel smiled at his seizure of your attention. He threaded his fingers through the contours of your hands, the sensation of skin-against-skin leaving fervid solar flares in its trail. Every inch of you drowned and burned in sunlight.

Yes, you thought. You couldn’t wait for an eclipse.

#farewell express #your lovel #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #IM SORRY IF THE FORMAT IS HIDEOUS IDFK WHAT IM DOING #FE PREQUEL??? CANON IG??#can you tell this is my first time writing a kiss 🚶#hey that one irl!! I hope you don't think of me any differently if you read this 😁😭#god I hope I don't se a mistake the second I post this

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aqua-the-smiter · 7 months ago

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@kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets Alright kids, ask and ye shall receive. NSFW under the cut Breeding kink, semi-public sex, ruining Roboute's hardwood table Lion El'Johnson x female reader. Getting down and dirty with you on one of his brother's library tables. How rude. Divider by the lovely @squishyowl

"What is someone catches us?" You whine quietly, trying to keep your voice down.

"They won't if you're quiet." Lion reassured you from between your legs with a purr, before shoving his tongue back between them

He was eating you out like a tiger licking the meat off a bone while you were spread like a banquet over a table in one of Roboute Guilliman's numerous libraries. And judging by the little noises he was making, thoroughly enjoying himself. Thankfully, Guilliman, Horus, Lorgar, and Vulkan were all chattering away in another room.

Not that you weren't either, if your issues with volume were anything to go by.

His behavior still caught you off guard sometimes. He had been so proper when he was courting you. So...chivalrous. It sounded silly, but that was truly the best word you could use for it. Chivalrous.

Maybe it was because you were a knight pilot. Your family's history with the machines went back millennia, and you were damn proud of it too. That might of been it. He had wanted you to see him as a gentleman while he tried to win your heart (and you his, truth be told), so he treated you like a lady. It looked good in front of your family too. Your father was a wonderful man, but you had been his only daughter in a sea of sons.

Lion hadn't been anything other than perfectly respectful, to both your family and you. Whenever the two of you met up he would get on one knee and kiss the back of your hand in greeting. He did his best to kneel down whenever you spoke to him as well. He would always walk you back home after an outing, and never pushed you for anything more than kissing while you were still dating.

Although he had been more than pleased to finally have you on your wedding night. And on one of his brother's tables.

He was no knight now, that's for sure. You could feel his tongue slithering between your legs, licking and pressing at just the right spot underneath all the folds to have you cumming over and over again. Like he was holding down a button inside of you. Leaving you and overstimulated, quivering mess, and him lapping up your fluids like a cat with stolen cream.

Then his tongue was abruptly replaced with something rather bigger, and it took all your willpower not to squeal.

You wrapped your thighs around his hips as he sheathed himself fully in your, stretching you open with his huge cock. You were more than wet enough to make up for any lack of lubrication on his end. Before you'd gotten with him you had seen some of the other Primarchs with their wives and wondered how in the world they bedded their husbands. What you didn't expect was getting your answer first hand.

With great enthusiasm.

Lion leaned over you, nestling his face between your neck and shoulder. Sinking his teeth into the tender flesh there. Your legs tightened around his hips, yours bucking up to meet his thrusts as he hilted himself in your slick cunt again.

You almost enjoyed the thought of someone catching you. Seeing how good Lion fucked you. How a primarch took his bride. "It's about time-" He whispered in your ear again. Holding your hips in a vice to his while he filled you up with his seed. "-that we started making cubs anyway."

"No time like the present?" You managed to slur out.

"Exactly."

#warhammer #warhammer 40k #primarch x reader #primarch x female reader #lion el'jonson #lion el'jonson x reader #lion el'jonson x female reader

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whereserpentswalk · 5 months ago

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There was, in the days of generations now passed into the gates of hades, a spirit that guarded a road. He was a kind spirit; he had been in the place for as long as anyone can remember. They say he looked like a tall man in shining green armor, with the wings and arms of a mantis. Nobody ever saw the face below his helmet. He was a kind spirit in those days, a protector of the travelers and the wanders. Those lost in the night he would show the way. He would walk with those who needed protection. The shops on the side of the road would put out warm milk and meat pies for him, and he would award them with money and customers. And any church that preached that he was an unclean thing would find themselves restored by termites and rats without his dear protection.

They say one day, as he walked alongside a young woman as she made her way home through a cold winter's night, a man came up to her and tried to take her away at the point of a knife. The spirit was enraged, and melted the attacker's eyes from his skull, and closed the holes in his face under his body died from lack of air. It was a brutal fate, though a fair one for a soul who would have done worse to one more innocent. And from that day forth the spirit spoke that anyone who walked along that road would be protected by the spirit's magic, and anyone or anything, human or beast, spirit or cryptid, who tried to bring those who walked his road to harm, would suffer a horrifying fate.

Though the people were protected, the road changed. First slowly. Automobiles began to appear, fueled by the fossils of the dead, and soon stoplights to tell when people were permitted to walk. Soon what was once the edges of the road was sidewalk. The road was paved again and again. And soon there weren't trains and weren't trollies. And store after store closed down, for new stores to be opened, giant boxes owned by corporations, with massive parking lots outside of them, that would never think to leave out milk and meat pies. And then one day there was no stoplight, and no sidewalk, because any place where human feet could be permitted to walk had been removed. They called the road a highway than, and the humans' leaders were proud of it. It was too noisy for even the wyverns to fly over, and too barren for even werewolves to hunt. But the spirit was still there.

And then the spirit took up a new banner. When the last safe place to walk was gone, and the first human was struck and killed trying to cross the highway, he had dropped the banner of the seelie court and taken up unseelie way. Not out of vengeance but out of duty.

All who seek to harm those who wish the walk the road are caused by his law, and those new powerful machines called automobiles are no different. Cars that drive through the great spirit's road find themselves crashing into each other, or spinning randomly and flying around the road, or breaking down and never moving around. Mechanics can't figure out why, can't explain why there are always flies and worms and snakes and scorpions in every car that passes through that road. Even the drivers aren't safe, nobody who would drive such a lethal machine through the spirit's road is safe, they find their bodies bleeding, and skin dashed with cuts as if from an insect's claws, and minds filled with eldritch madness. And they say there are many cars that seem to lose their drivers, with only bugs or toads in their place.

Some still see the spirit's body in the dark of the night. He's changed now, his armor has turned night black, and its shape twisted from what looked like a knight's suit, to an insect's strange shell, his once slender body stretched to an inhumanly elongated and spindly build. His claws are now like great blades, and where his face was once only in shadows, now two glowing eyes can be seen from below his helm, like a dark pervasion of headlights. But he is still the same creature he always was, this is only another side of the same being. And those animals and jaywalkers who cross the highway, will never be hit under his gaze, even if a thousand cars burst into flames to keep them safe.

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charlottecutepie · 10 months ago

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☥ Bunny meat (William Afton x fem!reader x Michael Afton)

Summary: He was a likeable middle-aged man who had wonderful children, his dream job and a beautiful wife. He never blamed himself for his own actions, or to be more exact, he never thought about their consequences.

tags: darkfic, unhealthy relationship, angst, smut with plot, p in v, dubcon, oral sex, rough and gentle sex, daddy kink, blood play, knife play, fear play, hurt/comfort, violence, gore/murders, child abuse, follows fnaf lore, moral and physical abuse, virginity kink, anxiety disorder, age gap, daddy issues, unreliable narrator, hallucinations, hidden pairing, William is sick, psychopathy, unhealthy narcissism

Chapter 5. Desire

Surprisingly, Wiliam behaved restrained, but inside him everything was on fire, he wanted to take you here and now, harshly and rudely, do things with you what he had long dreamed of all this time, but he knew perfectly well that if he snapped now, you'd be even more scared, cut with him all connections and will avoid him, and maybe even do something to yourself, because you're nothing but a little frightened lamb. A little creature who grew up alone, not needed by anyone, who didn't receive the proper amount of love and attention from her father. And that's why Afton thought he was the perfect source of all these feelings for you.

Perhaps, to some extent, he felt sorry you. However, his mind ignored such thoughts.

“William,” you spoke to him. “Is there no one at home?”

“Yes, Clara with kids left, I don't know where. She said she wouldn't be back until the morning.”

…

The Afton house is still same as it was before. Only coffee machine bought by the father of the family has changed. Although he earned a lot of money, little of it went to home improvement, Afton always invested only in the pizzeria, trying to make it as visible and attractive as possible.

It was also impossible to ignore the couch that was in the living room of the house. For you as a child, it was the most favourite object in Afton's house, you sat on it with Michael in the evenings and watched cartoons. When you had sleepovers with other kids, you hid under the covers because of Michael's scary stories. You often fell asleep on it late at night, without waiting for your mom, although she promised that she'd pick you up from the guests, but sometimes she never showed up because of scandals with her husband.

This couch evoked hundreds of emotions and nice memories.

But now, one more thing will be added to all these early memories: the way you lie on this couch under man who you saw as father, no matter how strange it sounds.

“You're so… beautiful,” he hovered over your body, his eyes running over it. “such delicate skin, like an angel's.” he took your hand, interlacing your fingers, kissing them. All thoughts in your head gathered into one big ball, you tried to analyze the situation somehow, but useless, because of his actions, you felt lost. William breathed out your name and greedily pressed his lips to your neck, showering it with light kisses.

You closed your eyes and turned your head to the side to give him more space, trying to relax, it seems you were succeeding. But unexpectedly for you, you felt him bite your neck.

“Oh!” bursted out of you, your free hand burrowed into his hair, trying to pull him away. “William, it hurts…” he looked up at you.

“I’m so sorry, bunny,” he smiled warmly at you. “I’ll be gentle.” he moved closer, gently kissing you on the corner of your lips. You leaned forward, hoping that this innocent kiss would turn into something more, however, Afton had other plans, he grinned and straightened up. “So impatient.”

He unbuttoned first three buttons of his purple shirt, which was enough for you to see the strange scars covering his body. You couldn't help, interest took over and your hands tentatively touched the bare area of his body.

“Where are they from?” you asked softly, causing him to chuckle again.

“It doesn't matter now, sweetheart.” he loosened the belt of his pants, after which he kissed your neck again, this time he kept his promise: you felt his tongue licking little wound he made. William took you by the hips, moving your body closer to him. “Y/n, you want this, don't you?”

“I… uh, I don't know.”

There is silence in response. William could tease you and your body for hours, nibbling and kissing it, making you sigh languidly, but this night he wanted to satisfy you first. He wanted to make you dependent on him, so that you couldn't live a day without his touch, so that you took the initiative yourself, so that you were head over heels in love. Corrupt you. However, he didn't know you were already so dependent on him, you want him to love you like in fairy tales about princesses, you want him to give you all the love that you were deprived of as a child. You just wanted someone to save you from loneliness.

You felt something hard pressing against the inside of your thigh, but you didn't want to look at what it was because of your wild embarrassment. Afton took something out of his pants pockets.

“Here, I see you need it,” you saw him holding out his hand to you with some kind of strange round pill. Confused, you looked at him, waiting for some explanation. William only laughed and ran his finger over your lips, opening them. “Yeah, and here it is, good girl.” he said, pushing the pill deeper until, due to the urge to vomit, you grabbed his wrist. “I'm sorry, baby, I just don't have anything to wash down the pill with.”

“What is it?” you winced at the unpleasant taste.

“Tranquilizers so you don't get nervous. Actually, they're mine, but I can tell by the look on your face they'll be useful for you too.” his hands carefully, as if afraid to scare you even more, undid the clasp of the dress, lowering it from your shoulders down. Unable to contain your shyness, you tried to hold the fabric on your body until William looked at you, as if mentally saying ��don't.” Then your grip loosened, there was nothing you could do but obey. “that's it, good girl.”

When he wanted to take off the dress completely, you still grabbed on it, not letting it slide off your hips.

“Princess, if you keep doing this, then we won't succeed.” William looked into your eyes, putting your hands behind your head. “I won't hurt you.”

You nodded, trying to lose yourself in your feelings again. It seemed to be easier with the help of a sedative. You didn't even notice how you were only in your underwear in front of him.

“Damn, you're incredible.” he threw the dress somewhere on the floor, kissing you on the cheek while his hands caressed your hips and waist. You bit your lip to stifle a groan. Fuck, no one has ever touched you like that, especially in places like this, and when William ran his hand along the inside of your thigh, inadvertently touching your crotch, you arched your back. “it felt good, didn't it?”

William repeated the movement, but now paying more attention to your clothed pussy. The excitement took over, forcing you to move your hips towards his movements. A shudder of desire went through your whole body, Afton saw it perfectly, he kissed your collarbone, going lower to your breasts.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I've been dreaming about this.” those words echoed in your head, but you didn't pay attention to it. “Honey, you're just so beautiful.” William ran his hands over your breasts, pinching your nipples hard with excitement.

“William…” you got the courage. He looked at you questioningly, damn, you hoped you said it so quietly that it would go unnoticed. “kiss me, please.”

He laughed. In a moment, his lips are on yours, like a predator. At that moment, you forgot absolutely everything, giving yourself completely to him. You moaned into his mouth, feeling his long fingers touching your pussy through your soaked panties. With one imperious movement, he pulls off the last piece of clothing, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

“And now? Not so scary anymore?”

“I don't know what i feel…” you were in turmoil, all fears and thoughts disappeared, a wild desire came to replace, no, not of intimacy, not of sex. But his affectionate words and compliments, the way he touches you, his gentle kisses and hugs, the way he treats you.

His fingers gently touch your labia, slowly and smoothly they move in circular movements along clit, getting another moan from you. With his other hand, he holds your legs, preventing you from moving away and closing them.

“And now, honey?”

“It's weird, but…” you avoided his gaze. ”feels good…” you answered unsure. Smiling contentedly, he removed his fingers. You noticed that as soon as his hands left your body, his movements in relation to himself instantly changed: he roughly, jerkily took off his belt and unbuttoned the fly of his pants, pulling them down. It’s like he was controlling himself when touching you.

“Lick them.” Afton said in a commanding tone, running his fingers over your lips. It was terribly embarrassing for you, but you did as he said anyway. You watched his actions with a note of sweet and naive excitement, the way his fingers penetrated deeper and deeper, pressing on your tongue, again caused unpleasant sensations to vomit. “Sorry, but there's no other way, I don't have any lube.”

When he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, quite considering how wet they were, you felt uncomfortable, but probably if you tell him about it, he's unlikely to listen and stop. The only thing left to do was to lie under him like a doll and enjoy.

“You're an obedient girl, aren't you?” his fingers went back to your glistening pussy, caressing your needy clit. Your breathing stopped instantly.

“Yes…” you whimpered when you felt his fingers, wet with your own saliva and grease, smoothly, insanely slowly entering you. William is building up the pace, not too fast, but enough to make soft sweet moans come out of your mouth. “Daddy…” you drawled languidly, feeling your soft walls tighten around his long fingers.

“Yes, princess?” Afton kisses your neck while his free hand wraps around his cock that was already out of his trousers, hard and dripping with precum. “Tell daddy what you want.”

“Please, want more…” you whispered in his ear, this time trying to be as seductive and sexy as possible. William found it funny.

“You'll get more, baby,” his breath tickled your skin. “Daddy will make you feel good.” Afton pulled out his fingers, causing you to moan in disappointment, oh, how he enjoyed it, it felt like he was ready to cum just from your angelic voice.

William tilted his head, being between your legs. The whole picture made you dizzy, you glance at him in surprise, trying to predict what will happen next. William grins, seeing how your curiosity plays tricks on you when he gives your clit a tender kiss.

“Ohhh, daddy,” this word is so vulgar, it sounds completely indecent on your tongue, but right now you don't care, all that matters is William Afton and the wild need to be needed by someone, loved, appreciated. “Yeah…”

The release builds up with an unfamiliar, wildly pleasant feeling in the lower stomach, making you want to close your legs, but his hands continued to hold them apart. His tongue feels too good, slowly moving in circular movements over your cunt, paying more attention to your clit while two fingers slowly and smoothly fucks you, forcing you to switch from moans to sobs and soft screams.

William accelerates, his movements getting faster and rougher, but no less passionate, making you arch from pleasure. With one hand buried in his dark brown hair, you try to set the pace, but he can do fine without you, so it's useless, he's much more experienced. He explored you with his tongue until the trembling left your supple body. William could feel your walls clenching around his fingers. His free hand continued to jerk himself off with increasing movements, while he was eating you out.

You sighed desperately when Afton stopped stimulating you with his tongue, lifting his head and looking at your reaction, his fingers still inside.

“Do you want to cum for daddy?” he asks, you just nod quickly, wishing of putting an end to these sweet torments that drive you crazy. “No, I need you to say it, honey.”

“Yes, yes, yesss,” you say brokenly. “I…” an uncertain pause. “I want to cum, daddy, please!” oh, it was so humiliating, but what was more terrible that you liked it.

“Good girl.” William increased the intensity of his movements, hitting all right sweet spots of yours. You moaned loudly, feeling everything tense in your lower abdomen, which means an imminent orgasm. “do it, cum while I fuck your little pussy with my fingers.” William growled, his hand that was touching his own cock stopped, now squeezing your neck, pressing on the carotid artery, but hearing your wheezing, he his grip loosens.

Your moans, which are more like crying, turn into loud, piercing “oohs”, your head's spinning, your brain's melting, everything is like in a fog, you can't even see Afton's face. The long-awaited release is catching up with you. You cum, you cum so hard that you feel ecstasy running through your whole body, you feel that your breathing becomes ragged, and your pussy clenching on his fingers.

“Such a good girl,” because of orgasm, you don't even hear what he says, and you don't want to, you need time to regain your strength. “it's my turn now, baby.”

He takes his fingers out, brings them to his mouth and licks them, studying your reaction. William touches his member again, his heartbeat quickens, his eyes now closed, apparently he's thinking about something. Yes, he's definitely imagining something in his head.

“Tell me, do you love daddy?“ he asked, his voice hoarse from excitement. He isn't even looking at you.

“Yes,” you responses quietly. Taking advantage of the moment, you look at him in detail while he doesn't notice. Damn, how handsome he was, his long, such aristocratic fingers that played with the tip of his cock, rubbing cum along entire length, his slightly disheveled but insanely beautiful brown hair like milk chocolate, his sharp cheekbones, it was stupid to deny that he was unattractive. “I love daddy, I love you, William.” you didn't even fully understand what you were talking about. You was just saying what he wanted to hear.

He pumps his cock faster, you see how he shuddered, like saying your name or something else, you can't understand. But you catch yourself thinking that it's damn beautiful. If your mom found out what you were doing, she probably wouldn't be happy.

He cums on your stomach, with a loud groan, and then, breathing heavily, falls on the couch next to you, staring blankly at the ceiling. What is he thinking about? Is he even thinking now? You're lying obediently by his side, trying to figure out what just happened, but your brain doesn't want to think, your head is aching, your temples are throbbing. William turns to you, then looks at the crumpled dress on the floor, then back at you.

“Let's go to the shower, bunny, I'll help you wash up.”

…

The next morning came for you only closer to 12, when you were suddenly woken up by the sound of the door opening. It was Clara with Michael and Elizabeth. Confused, not even realizing that you were in their house, you jumped up from the couch.

“Michael, give Elizabeth that hoodie, you're not wearing it anyway.” woman's voice was heard somewhere in the hallway area, which means that she was nearby.

“Mom, these are my things, and just because I don't wear them doesn't mean that—”

Michael entered living room, but when he saw you, he froze in place.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” he asked, a slight smile appearing on his face.

“Who are you talking to?” Clara’s voice sounded, but as soon as she appeared in the room, her emotions immediately changed. “Oh, hello, honey.” woman affectionately called your name, coming up to you and sitting down on the sofa. “Elizabeth, go say hello to Y/n!”

Girl immediately rushed over, you noticed a plush toy in her hands, it seems it was the same robot girl drawing of which Elizabeth recently showed you. She greeted you cheerfully, all you could do was say an awkward “hello” in response, still trying to remember how you even ended up here. Clara stroked your head, her gaze fixed on your face, on your tousled hair and lost expression. You knew that you had to say something in your own defense, why you were here.

“Sorry for such an oversight, I had some problems with my mom, and Mr. Afton told me to spend the night here.” you lied, and then mentally slapped yourself. Damn, this is so dumb. The Afton family knew that you had the best relationship with your mom and that you had never argued. You doubted how truth your words sounded, but judging by Clara's reaction, everyone believed you.

“Honey, I'm glad that you have somewhere to go, you know that we'll always welcome you with hugs,” she said tenderly, with maternal love. “You must be hungry. I'll go to the store and cook breakfast, what do you think?”

There was no point in lying further, you really needed something to eat, so you silently agreed.

Mrs. Afton went to the nearest grocery store, taking Elizabeth with her. You and Michael were left alone, you gradually began to remember what happened, and with the realization that you and Afton had something, you were overtaken by a sickening anxiety, causing your toes and hands to go numb and shake, and your heart to beat faster. You two were sitting on this damn couch watching TV, however, neither of you was interested in what the old screen was showing. You were sitting hugging your knees, wondering whose clothes you were wearing: they were of a child surely, with some kind of cartoon print, a t-shirt and, as it seems, Michael's pants. He didn't hesitate to look at you from head to toe, which slightly annoyed you.

“Michael, stop staring.” You hissed, tucking your face into your lap.

“I'm just trying to figure out,” he paused, thinking about something. “why are you wearing my dead brother's t-shirt?”

“What?”

“Well… I'm not accusing you of anything… it's just…” he scratched his head, clearly not knowing what to say to you. ”Okay, forget it. It's just my shit in my head.”

“Michael, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…” you looked at him. Why did William choose his dead son's clothes out of all? “There must be some kind of misunderstanding.”

“It's nothing, y/n, you shouldn't worry so much about it.”

You looked at the TV, trying to come up with some kind of ridiculous excuse, but in vain. And how long can you lie?

“Speaking of my brother… today, Elizabeth, mom and I went to his grave.” Michael muttered, you knew perfectly well that this topic of conversation wasn't the best, because the he blamed himself enough for what happened. You decided that the best thing you can do now is just listen to him. “You know… it's already overgrown with grass. We had to work hard to get the grave back to normal. Oh, and there's also a lot of webs.”

You knew that only people who cared for Evan's gravestone were Clara and Michael. William, after his son's death, never visited grave, and even more so, didn't attend the funeral, citing the fact that he had a lot of work. And when Evan was in a coma, with minimal chance of survival, Michael came to him almost every day, crying and begging for forgiveness.

You knew that Michael was just a traumatized guy and it was useless to blame him for all this, he had already heard a lot about himself from his father, so you just moved closer to him when you noticed him dropping tears on the couch and hugged him.

Half an hour later, Mrs. Afton returned from the store. Michael wasn't in such good mood as before, but as soon as his mother crossed the threshold of their house, he seemed to put on a mask of happiness, meeting her and helping to carry bags into the kitchen.

For breakfast, which smoothly turned into lunch, Clara served macaroni and cheese and caesar salad. Your stomach, which hasn't received normal hot food for a long time, rejoiced and you ate all two portions in a few minutes. Elizabeth talked most of all at the table, telling you something about robots and toys again. Yes, once upon a time Michael, and Clara herself, told you that she took after her father. She's also interested in mechanics and loves animatronics.

Looking at this whole family, you felt guilty about yesterday. Probably, to some extent, you even hated yourself. Mrs. Afton, the nicest woman you've ever known, after your mom, of course. Michael is a devoted and faithful friend, as well as a caring brother, Elizabeth is just the sunshine of this family, cheerful, everyone's favorite. And William is a charming and likeable man who was ready to do anything for his family and work. At least that's how the family seemed to you in your head.

You're lost in your own thoughts, stopped listening to Elizabeth's babble. The damn guilt was eating you, making you sick of yourself. How could you do that? How dare you drag a married man, the head of the family, into bed, and then sit at the same table with his family, smiling innocently at everyone. What the fuck is wrong with you? Mrs. Afton will definitely find out, Michael will find out and Elizabeth will find out, and then you will become a disgrace to the whole town. You will become known as a little slut who seduced a married man. Not just a man, but William Afton himself.

“By the way, honey, did William tell you where he is?” Clara asked, and you squinted, trying to remember what Afton had told you before you dozed off.

“He said he was going to the pizzeria to work.” you said, it was true. Clara's face changed.

“What?” a rhetorical question. “he never worked on that day, he always had a day off exactly… today.”

Meanwhile, William was already at the pizzeria.

#william afton smut #fnaf x reader #steve raglan x reader #fnaf x y/n #william afton x reader #william afton #steve raglan smut #dilf william #fnaf smut #fnaf william afton #william afton imagines #william afton x reader smut #Fnaf movie

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twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 5 months ago

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Pet Sitter AU

So anyways ummm I've had this locked and loaded for a while. It's not complete. Buuuut it's a comfort AU for me so I shall talk about it when I need it most! (Like rn) I have more I'll add eventually, but if you have any world-building questions lmk!!!

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The premise/the basis of all this is Cater needs to get away from home when he's finally at his breaking point and ends up leaving, no plans, nothing packed, just his wallet, his phone + charger, and the clothes on his back. He ends up calling in an old favour to Trey, a classmate he hasn't seen or spoken to in years, who comes to pick him up off the street and lets him stay in his apartment he shares with Che'nya until Cater can get back on his feet.

Cater recognizes he needs to get his shit together, but he's a depressed mess and has largely been isolated from other people besides his family, so when another person in the apartment needs a last minute pet sitter, he figures it's a small enough task he can handle.

this is based off of this comic

In which Idia has a skrunkly ass stray cat named Meat Spud (Cater does not want to touch it whatsoever bc it has. no fur. He's used to his sister's big fluffy spoiled cats)

The Apartment

So like. Idk, my brain liked the idea of each floor of an apartment building being more luxurious than the floor below it. Im by no means an architect or have any bg in this stuff, apologies if it like. Irks anyone sldkjfhlskdjf

it's a 15 story apartment building with roof access

- First Floor - Apartments are one bedroom, a kitchen and a living room, as well as a small "porch" area outside. There are communal bathrooms + laundry. Unfurnished Rent is ~$560 a month (about 20 apartments are available) There's also a communal deep freeze for anyone who needs more room for their food, but the apartment is not responsible for any losses that may occur.

- Second floor - Still one (larger) bedroom/kitchen/living area, but you get your own bathroom (woo), but the shower is like. the same design as a public shower, you know? like just the spout coming out from the wall. Tenants are still expected to use the laundry room on the first floor though. Small balcony/outdoor area. Comes with a bed + couch. Rent is ~$610 a month (about 15 apartments available)

- Third floor - options for two bedroom apartments become available, but the rooms are Very Small. Balcony is about the same size as the second floor. There is room for a small dining area. The bathroom has a free standing shower. Rent is ~$660 a month (Also about 15 apartments available) Rent has some variation depending on whether you get a furnished or partially furnished apartment

- Fourth floor - More spacious in general, better options for two bedroom spaces if needed, there is a gym on this floor which kinda cuts into how many apartments are available. Most are partially furnished, but there are options available/the lease is negotiable to a certain extent. Still just a free standing shower in the bathroom. Yes there's still a balcony. Rent is ~$700 a month (only about 7 apartments available because of the gym)

- Fifth floor - Tenants finally get their own laundry machines lkjshdfkjdf woo, more spacious, etc. they get a bath + shower combo in the bathroom + a decent sized balcony. They can opt in/out for once a month room service for an additional $50 a month (this increases by $10 the higher the floor but remains an option). Rent is ~$800 a month (about 10 apartments available)

- Sixth to eighth floor are all about the same, just getting slightly bigger (like by 1-3 square feet) as they go up, but they all become two bedroom options. Rent falls between ~$850-$870 with about 8 apartments available on each floor.

- ninth to twelveth floor are all about the same, they get a shower and a bath in their (2) bathrooms, like they're separate from each other, they have walk in closets in the master bedrooms, and they get a storage room. They still are 2 bedroom. Rent falls between $1100 - $1350 a month (only 6 available on each floor)

- there is a thirteenth floor, but it's not an option on the elevator. The owners of the apartment are superstitious and don't rent out any rooms on the thirteenth floor, but wanted to HAVE a thirteenth floor bc...in the event there are ghosts or something in their apartment they would be stuck on the floor with the most energy?? Idk man. Nothing is furnished. Just empty rooms. "Empty" Rooms. :)

- The fourteenth floor is like. luxury apartments. they get the whole shebang with walk in closets for every (3) bedroom, full bathrooms (2) huge livingroom, huge kitchen with up to date appliances, and once a month there's a full course meal that's just brought to the tenants for dinner. They're living the high life for the same price a lot of people are sharing a house with four people withs flkjshdlkjfsdf Rent is ~$2000-$2100 a month. There are only 4 of these apartments, the balcony wrapping around each one

- and of course, the fifteenth floor. Literally. It's like having an actual house to live in but you get a great view of the city from above. It's ridiculous. four bedrooms, 3.5 bathrooms, like it's just big and beautiful and bright. as for the food, it's "complimentary" (factored into rent) and happens every other week. Or it would if the people living up there didn't opt out of it lsdkjfhlksdjf the apartment owners don't care it saves them money. Rent is ~$2500 a month.

And you might be like. hey. that rent doesn't actually sound that bad.

I know.

I know. Like I share Half a house with four other girls and the total rent per month is $3100. My rent alone is $575. But I wanted to be nice (I did not plan out the rent before this and I simply do not care enough to change it I think I'm being "reasonable" with it)

ONTO THE CHARACTERS

Okay:

Basement

- Jamil (22) – Yeeeah baby he gets the whole basement to himself. Almost. Like there’s a section for all the maintenance and storage stuff, but he gets to live at the hotel rent free because he’s friends with the owners (the Asim’s), and works for them at the front desk. He doesn’t even have to do the cleaning. It’s the freakin’ dream. In order to actually make money though, he does have side gigs so he can deck out the basement however he wants + do what he wants for fun. He has plans to keep snakes eventually, but he’s saving up for his dream enclosure as well as the extra heat lamps he would need for down there.

First Floor

- Ace (21)- Ace's mother divorced their dad she found out about some of the bad habits he had been up to. Just a little over a year ago, his mom became extremely ill and his big brother Jack became the main provider of the family, trying to take care of their mom and his little brother. Ace knew he wasn't outwardly being a burden, but he still felt like one and decided to save up and move out. Shortly after moving out, he lost his job, so he's desperately been searching for another one, but also been doing what he can as a little entrepreneur. Nothing's been super successful yet, which has been super discouraging but he has a couple repeat clients for his stickers that he makes. He also has 4 pet hamsters which he keeps on a live stream most of the time, (they're all named after card games). All he has for furniture is a desk, two rickety old chairs he probably found in an alley somewhere, his mattress and a dresser. His place is a bit of a mess with the stress he's under, and he's had to ask Jack for money a couple times which only makes him feel worse.

- Riddle (18)- Riddle has been playing violin since he was just A Baby (like 3) and had been on fairly good terms with his mother. She encouraged him to move to the city as a means of giving himself more opportunities, and she would pay for his rent. A few months in, Riddle realizes oh shit. I'm gay. And decides to come out to his mother because he has no reason to believe she wouldn't take it well. Well. she doesn't. She immediately disowns him and stops paying his rent for him. He can barely pay for one month on his own, and decides he needs a roommate. He did not really....do any digging into his roommate because he was just desperate to have one...(eventually, when things get better, he gets a pet hedgehog)

- Ruggie (21) - Riddle's Roommate :) He's the only reason Riddle's apartment is furnished, because he manages to find things on sale or on the street or whatever and clean it up. He thought Riddle was joking when he said he wanted to be a musician In This Economy. Ruggie doesn't mind one bit sleeping on the couch. He keeps himself sustained through whatever means necessary. (Doesn’t really want a pet because of the cost, but likes Riddle’s hedgehog a lot)

Second Floor

- Rook (24) – Rook is a blue collar worker, I think in construction? He owns a really old, well behaved golden lab and a brand new, very energetic bichon frisee puppy. They absolutely adore each other. He has no contact with any of his family.

- Deuce (19) – Moved out to be closer to work. He’s currently an apprentice as a mechanic, but on the side he offers blastcycle modifications (so long as they’re legal), and also babysits! He ends up adopting like 4 German Shepard mix (unknown, they’re not purebred) puppies with his roommate because they were both too much of bleeding hearts to give them away or sell them once they found them. It was already tight, (spaciously), because their one bedroom was already split in half with a paper divider, but they surrendered the livingroom to the puppies. Money wise, it is a little tight.

- Epel (19) – Deuce’s roomie. He was the one who found the puppies. He tried to leave them, he really did but Then He Couldn’t. Epel’s family supports him because their farm is successful, it’s not ‘a lot’ but they send him about $150 a month just to help out in the big city. Epel met Deuce at work, his lease was almost up and asked if he could move in because Deuce was venting a little bit about rent. Epel is apprenticing as a fabricator – he’s already a pretty good mechanic because of the upkeep he had to do on the farm, but fabrication seemed fun, profitable, and secure so he decided to try it out. Lowkey has a goal to get into all the trades as an apprentice eventually. He also has his own blastcycle and does late night delivery service as a side gig.

- Jack (19) – Moved to the city to go to school. He wrote home about how he felt really…lonely without his family, and his mom ended up gifting him a Samoyed puppy the next time he came home. She sends him money for all puppy related expenses, and he works part time at a fast food restaurant to help sustain his rent. He’s going to school on a scholarship for his athleticism, and could technically afford a nicer apartment, but he’s trying to be smart with his money. He’s also working to develop his own fitness trainer app because he wants to help people exercise to feel good, not necessarily to loose weight or anything.

- (Nameless OC) – She’s like a 75 year old widow who has a crush on her upstairs neighbour on floor 4. She’s adorable, she’s a little Korean grandma. Every now and then her daughter comes to visit. Her daughter is the one who ends up adopting (human) Grim + Gidel (both friends with Ortho) (Jack helps her bring up her groceries a lot)

Third Floor

- Jade + Floyd (21) – They actually live in a single room apartment, because they toured both a two bedroom and single room and found that they could make more use of bedroom space in a single room. They’ve never met Azul in this AU (I’ll explain this later in ‘relationships’) and are fairly new to land. Jade’s side of the room is all terrariums, his isopods and springtails are his baaaaabies. Floyd has a huge glass enclosure on his side of the room for his Albino Burmese Python. He thought it was a ball python when he first got it. Uh. Yeah. He puts in a lot of work and sourcing people who can teach him how to care for it properly, he’s a great snake dad. When it’s available, Jade will feed the shed skin of Floyd’s snake to his isopods. Floyd also retains some of his strength from having been a mer, so it’s not entirely uncommon for him to answer the door with a snake scarf. They’ve both got working Visas for now to be on land, and Jade is working towards figuring out all the paperwork to become land citizens for both of them. Jade works in a greenhouse, but also sells custom terrariums, Floyd works at a pizza place and LOVES it.

- Trey (23) – He works at his parents bakery basically for free, as they make sure he has enough to cover his rent, groceries and phone bills. He only moved out to escape the chaos that is his household of (hc) 11 children. He is a volunteer firefighter, and the apartment Loves him because he brings leftover treats the bakery can’t sell anymore and just gives them out. Also just. The third floor smells great, all the time because he’s always baking something or other.

- Che’nya (22) – A bit of a freelancer, Trey isn’t even entirely sure what Che’nya does for work, but he always pays his rent on time so he doesn’t really care. Most of the time though, Che’nya works at a coffeeshop. They don’t have a pet in the apartment, though Che’nya kinda wants one.

Fourth Floor

- (Nameless OC) – 76 year old Korean grandpa. Has a crush on the lady two floors below him. They’re adorable and will end up together eventually sldkjhlksdf

Fifth Floor

- Azul (22) – Also a musician, he plays piano and has mommy’s money sustaining him for the most part lmao He’s managed to land a few gigs here and there, but it’s not really enough to keep him going. He ends up getting work at a museum as the person at the front desk and really enjoys it. He gets a couple perks that really make the job worth it (free lunch + 2 museum passes a month so he can go in for free with a friend. If he had any friends) He has a rather impressive tropical fish aquarium.

I don’t have anyone I Want on the 6th floor

Seventh Floor

- Silver (23) – Was raised in the foster care system, but never adopted. He vaguely remembers being taken off the streets and somewhere warm by some black and pink long-haired Guy but that’s about it. He’s always been pretty resourceful, and runs his own, small pajama company, has been since he was 18. He mostly gets to work from home now which is really nice. He owns 2 bearded dragons. He only has a roommate because he didn’t see the point in having a wasted space of a bedroom. It’s kinda funny because it’s almost like there’s an invisible line in the apartment where you can tell which roommate decorated which side of the space sldjfhksdjf

- Sebek (18) – Silver’s roommate. It’s his first time living away from home and he doesn’t really know how to cope. He insists he knows what he’s doing, but Silver can tell he has a lot of life skills left to develop and tries to teach him in subtle ways. While this will be mentioned again later, Sebek is emo in this au LMAO. Sebek also insists that he doesn’t care about the bearded dragons, but he learns how to handle them and ends up loving them and helping Silver take care of them without being asked. Sebek’s dad helps him pay for half of his rent, but he’s responsible for his own groceries which…is where he finds it more difficult to be honest. Sebek was initially going to go into school to become a dental assistant, but he finds it. So boring. And kinda gross. So he ends up going to become a veterinarian. Is his ‘bedside manner’ the best with animals? No. But he’ll learn. Sebek currently works part-time as a parking attendant.

Eighth Floor

- Idia (23) + Ortho (9) (this is a lil. Depressy-espressy okay?) – A little over a year ago, Ortho was in a car crash with his parents. It ended up orphaning the Shrouds and left Ortho crippled from the waist down. Idia feels like he should carry some of the blame because he didn’t get there fast enough, he wasn’t there to protect his brother, etc. etc. but Ortho doesn’t blame him for anything. Idia did inherit the family home, but it felt too big and empty without his parents, and Ortho said he wanted a new space to try and reset. So they’re living off their parents will + business money still, Idia doesn’t really have to do much to keep it running so he can focus largely on Ortho. Ortho’s mobility is very limited early on, using only a wheel chair, but as he attends physiotherapy, he learns to use forearm crutches and he’s very optimistic about being able to walk again. Ortho attends online school, after having challenged a few grades, he’s working on grade 7 level homework/classes. Idia only takes in his cat, Meat Spud, about a month before Cater shows up. It’s a feral, horrifically mannered little gremlin but he Loves It and is the first thing in a long time that kinda shocked him out of his depression for a little bit. Ortho named it. He also refuses to touch it lsdjhlkjsdf but he finds it funny. Ortho deeeesperately wants a White’s Tree Frog because he’s done his research and knows he could handle it. He wants to name it. Cornelius. Also, the kid just generally. Loves frogs. Please let him info dump to you. Please. He knows So Much.

I got nobody in my mind until floor 13

- Lilia(???) – He’s the ‘ghost’ of the apartment. Not really. He is a squatter. Nobody knows how he got in. Nobody cares enough to shoo him out or complain about it because most people don’t even know he’s there. He’s got ‘pet’ rats. They’re city rats he’s befriended with food. It’s not that he doesn’t have money. Don’t ask me to explain him I don’t fully know how it works yet sldkjfhlskdjf

Jumping up to the 15th floor

- Vil (24) – A model, and actor and a successful fashion designer, Vil loved the concept of the apartment which was really the only reason he chose to move in rather than own his own place. He is trained as a falconer, and does have a ‘pet’ falcon. ‘Pet’ as in it is not captive bred, but it was a rescue. For the most part, it flies freely, and only comes back to the apartment for the sake of companionship or for a safe place to sleep. Vil mostly keeps tabs on it’s health. (I need to research this more but like it’s less of a pet and more just a wild animal Vil has favour with and he recognizes that.) He also has two Great Danes from the same litter named Iris and Poppy

- Vizzie (21) – She is a vtuber and Vil’s roommate (will go over this more in Relationships). In person, she is *largely* non-verbal. She’s more of a listener/observer. She has a ‘pet’ crow. Shortly after being friends with Vil she found an injured fledgling and followed instructions over the phone on how to care for it to transport it to a National Wildlife Rehabilitation Center, then decides she would like to actually like to become licensed as a wildlife rehab. Officer. When that crow was cleared to return to the wild, it ended up following her around anyways, so once she finished her certification she knew legally she *could* handle the crow if need be. She ended up getting permission to set up an ‘enrichment station’ on the roof, so ‘her’ crow can has a safe, man-made stimulation board basically and can bring any of it’s friends along, but it’s also not uncommon to see it sitting on her shoulder. It is trained well enough that she brings it into the apartment now and then, but most of it’s time is spent outside. It also loves delivering messages for her. It’s name is Ragnar.

- Neige (22) – You’ll never guess. Yeah. He’s a successful model, actor and fashion designer. He’s got permission from the owners to keep pigeons on the roof. You can imagine the commotion that happens when they see Vil’s falcon, even if Vil does stay on the opposite side of the roof when he interacts with it. He likes the apartment because it’s central so all the volunteer and charity opportunities are within walking distance. He ends up also bringing home a box of sopping wet kittens at one point, but gives all but one away because of his roommate.

- Leona (25) – Neige’s roommate. I think both his parents recently passed away, so the family business was passed onto his brother. Falena is concerned about Leona’s mental and physical health, so offered to pay his rent for him. Leona wasn’t going to say no. Currently doesn’t have a job. Doesn’t really plan to get a job. He will eventually become a lawyer (?). He ends up adopting the runt of the litter of kittens Neige brought home and named her Mgambo. She’s got a tortoise-shell coat.

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Others

- Kalim (22)– his parents own the apartment. He wanted to live there, but they ended up buying him his own place. It doesn’t matter, he’s in the lobby every day, (no job), chattering away to Jamil and trying to contain his six ferrets and an African Grey Parrot that he keeps mostly on his shoulder. He isn’t the most responsible pet owner, but he loves them and tries his best. Jamil often gives him pointers, and he listens to all of them (most are to make Jamil’s life easier but keeps Kalim’s pets safer anyways)

- Malleus (??)– Not quite sure where he lives in the city, but he knows Lilia lives at the apartment and goes to visit him often. He doesn’t understand why he chooses to live the way he does, but won’t comment on it. He has a pet raven but Idrk how he got it. If it’s even legal. It is a happy bird though and that’s what matters most.

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I'll elaborate on more ships later but for now

Azul + Riddle – The twins instigate this lmao, they’re right in between the two musicians and love just laying on their balcony after a long day and listening to both of them practice. Floyd ends up yelling down to Riddle that Azul – the pianist above them, said his music lacks emotion, and Jade tells Azul in passing that while *he* enjoys his music, the little redhead on the first floor said that his music sounds amateurish. This sparks a competition between the two. Keep in mind. They can’t really hear each other. They’re both just swayed by the twins words . It ends up helping both of them, as Riddle realizes he’s always played the violin for his mothers approval, it’s always been mechanical to him, so he slowly starts to really tune in (hehe) to his emotions, why he chooses to play the violin, the sense of loss he feels with his mother, but still wanting to make her proud, and a part of his mind thinking if he can ‘beat’ Azul, if his mother knew, she would be proud, but that slowly becomes less and less important as time goes on. Azul, on the other hand, knows that he’s had less time than the many musicians to perfect his craft, but he’s mostly been forcing himself to learn impressive sounding pieces rather than really learning the basics and practicing them. Eventually there will be a night where they can hear each other, maybe like all the electricity goes out and either out of boredom or to try and lift people’s spirits they both end up playing, but it’s the first time they really hear each other play and they manage to make something beautiful. The twins then ‘ruin’ the moment after a beat of silence from both of them to ask when they’ll finally go on a date. Both immediately deny wanting anything like that. By the next week Azul mentions something about having a free pass to the museum and Riddle doesn’t think it’s a date until he Gets There and realizes it is.

Idia, Cater, Viz are a polycule, but Viz dates Ace as well

Jade and Trey are a thing

Deuce and Epel, maybe?

Vil and Leona

Who knows

Not me

The rest is still being workshopped

I'll elaborate on ships later

And character aesthetics bc Vil and Viz being the resident Goths are soooo important to me.

Anyways

Taglist:

@fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain

Lmk if you wanna be added ^^

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