#I can't wait to finish. I can't wait... I can't wait...

[chaoticwriting]

YOU ARE MARRIED??!!

-Wayne Manor, Gotham-

Cass is not having a good time. From the Arkham breakout last week all the way to losing a bet with his siblings on who is going to attend the gala with Bruce. And now this annoying lady kept asking her about her preference in men or something. And Bruce can't help her since he is being occupied by those rich assholes about investment or stuff.

Vicky: So, Miss Wayne. Is it true that you have a secret boyfriend?

Cass: No.

Vicky: Then how about that pict-

Cass: I'm already married.

Vicky blue screened as Cass finished her sentence. Cass takes the chance and slips away from her before she starts barraging her with questions. Revealing that she is married may not be the smartest thing she has done but she is very annoyed at people who keep asking her about her secret significant other. If they want to ask, at least use the proper term.

Just as Cass reaches the hallway, she is scooped up by two strong arms and is carried away to the Batcave. Cass looks to her side to see Dick and Jason both holding one of her arms each and looking very pissed. Well, Dick looks very pissed. Jason looks like he is having fun. Cass doesn't struggle and just lets her brothers carry her to the Batcave to have the talk.

They put Cass on the couch and proceed to guard the exit of the cave on the off chance that she decides to escape. Not that she would because she and her husband have been thinking of breaking the news to their respective family for awhile now.

She waited for a few hours while playing on her phone. Her main phone. Not the one she used to contact her husband since this family has a lot of competent hackers. She knows that being married is like a big deal. But she doesn't expect it to be such a big deal.

When she says everyone is here, she means everyone. From all his close family all the way to Selina (Bruce's fiancee), Roy (Jason's boyfriend), Kori (Dick's wife), Kon (Tim's boyfriend), Jon (Damian's bff) and even Harley and Ivy is here. She is also pretty sure that Clark is listening from somewhere but it's not like she is trying to keep it a secret anymore, so the more people there are the less she needs to explain.

Harper: So what are we here again? I would rather be home to polish my new gun than in this cave.

Dick: Since everyone is here, I would like to apologize for calling all of you in such short notice.

A murmur ranging from 'it's fine' all the way to 'I want to sleep' sounded in the room.

Dick: Anyway, let's get to the main topic shall we. For starters, I would like to say that none of us wishes to control who you dated nor who you choose to be your partner.

Some more murmurs sounded in the room.

Dick: HOWEVER! We would really appreciate it if you wish to marry someone, at least notify one of us since being married is a big deal.

More murmurs sounded as all of them have a rough idea on what the topic going to be.

Dick: So, the person in question, would you like to explain yourself?

A spotlight lights up on top of Cass, directing all the people's attention to her. She doesn't even know there is a spotlight installed in the cave.Cass stands up and looks at the crowd. She replies, "No."

Everyone is stunned by her reply. They expect many types of replies but no is certainly not one of them.

Tim: Fuck you mean no?

Alfred: I would prefer this conversation to remain civil and proper please master Timothy. I would also like to express my extreme displeasure at the fact that I am not notified by your marriage Mistress Cassandra.

Cass goes still at Alfred's sentence. Okay, shit is really serious. As much as she loves messing with them, she would rather not have her food burnt on the inside. (No one knows how Alfred manages to do that.)

Cass: Ehem, I'm just messing with you. It is a long story but to make it short, my husband and I met when we were in Hong Kong. We met after he got roped in one of the gangs that I was busting. After we met and a little misunderstanding, he helped me to dismantle the underground drug labs across Hong Kong.

Tim: So he is also a vigilante?

Cass: Ex-vigilante. He has a daughter now so he is taking care of her.

Dick: You get pregnant?!! How? When?

Cass: I did not get pregnant. But she is technically my daughter.

Jason: Like how Lian is with me?

Cass: No. Biological daughter.

Kon: Umm, guys. I think Bruce needs to rest a little. His heart has been beating a little too fast for even him.

Dick and and Tim are closest to Bruce realizing that Bruce's face has been impossibly pale for quite a while now. They take him to an empty couch and let him lay there and rest for a while. Everyone's reactions range from amused to straight up concerned that Bruce's career as Batman might get cut short today.

It takes a while but as soon as Bruce is fine, they continue another round of questions and answers.

Bruce: How long have you been married?

Cass: Next week is our 3rd anniversary.

Duke: Wait. Didn't you plan to go to Hong Kong for some time next week? You even ask me to cover your patrol because you say you need to go somewhere.

Cass: I don't lie. I missed last year's anniversary since there was an Arkham breakout at the time.

Duke: Dude, still not cool. You are going on a date with your husband while I need to spend hours running on top of buildings around Gotham. So not fair.

Jason: Was the present you asked me to send last year also was for your husband?

Cass: Yes.

Jason: I've been your middle man all this time and I don't even know.

Barbara: I found it! This is the registration for marriage between Cassie Cain and Daniel Fenton. You used a fake name?

Cass: Yes. You will know otherwise.

Bruce: Why do you hide it?

Cass: I'm not sure all of you are gonna like him and vice versa.

Dick: Is he a bad person? I will kill him if he treats you badly.

Cass: No. He doesn't trust all of you at first.

Steph: And why is that?

Cass: He thinks the Justice League is working with the government. So by extension, all of you are associates of government to him.

Steph: Why is he running away from the government? Is he a criminal?

Barbara: No. He doesn't have any criminal records in his name. Except for the fact that he is practically nonexistent before he is 18, there is nothing wrong with him.

Tim: Is it a forged identity then?

Cass: No. The government wiped away his records.

Dick: What? Why?

Cass: I don't know.

Damian: I expect you to at least do a background check on someone before marrying them, Cain.

Dick: Did you get married with someone you barely know? Do you understand how dangerous that is? What if he just dipped you after you got married?

Cass: *Rolls her eyes* He isn't a bad person. I make sure of that at least. I know he is some sort of meta tho-

A green portal suddenly appears out of thin air making everyone be on guard except Cass. She expects Danny to come out of the portal to greet her but what comes out baffled her.

A young girl that looks a little like Cass riding on a big wolf comes out of the portal swiftly towards Cass. Everyone is just about to shoot their weapons when the girl's word shock them.

???:Mama!

Everyone: Mama?!!

[charmedimsure]

Wake Up Call

pairing: Thanos/Choi Su-bong x f!reader

summary: Thanos is you're least favorite regular at the club you bartend for. But when you find him passed out against the building one night, you can't just leave him there. No debt/no games AU.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: drinking, drugs, addiction, depression

A/N: i'm really proud of this fic. expect a second part sometime soonish (gonna work on requests first tho). if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

The music in Club Pentagon is so loud it feels like it's inside of you. You're placing the olives in a dry martini a patron is waiting for, handing it to them with a smile. You're one of the most popular bartenders at Club Pentagon. Men order from you because they're drunk and want to fuck you, and women order from you because they're more comfortable drinking cocktails that have been made by another woman.

"Señorita, over here!" A voice yells out to you and you sigh at the familiar voice.

You turn and put a hand on your hip, spotting the telltale purple hair of your least favorite regular. "What do you want?"

He puts a hand over his heart. "Ouch, you hurt me, baby. I just wanted to see my favorite girl."

You roll your eyes, grabbing a nearby towel and quickly wiping drops of different liquors off the bar. "Well, you saw me, so you can leave now."

He takes a glance at his little posse around him, consisting of guys hoping to get famous, girls wanting to say they slept with a rapper, and your least favorite coworker Nam-gyu. You have no idea how the runner still has a job here, considering he spends more time licking the failed rapper's boots than actually running anything.

"You know, I have an extra space at my table," he says. "I'd love if you came over after your shift. Thanos will treat you well."

You groan. The boy has been relentless in asking you out ever since you started working at the club. "I would rather sit with the movie villain than you." You look over his shoulder at your coworker. "Nam-gyu, take him away or I'm gonna volunteer you to clean the floors."

With a hiss, Nam-gyu puts his hands on Thanos' shoulders and steers him away from you. Thanos smiles over his shoulder, waving at you. "I'll see you tomorrow night, Señorita!"

You cringe, knowing that you most definitely will see him again tomorrow.

<>

The next night goes by much too slow for your liking. You spend your shift mixing the same drinks over and over, putting up with the men who flirt with you, and calling security on some men who won't leave girls alone. You had of course seen Thanos, but the club was so busy that you didn't even have the time to reject him, instead just huffing at him and turning to another person waiting at the bar.

Once your shift is over and you've finished everything you need to do, you step out through the back door, taking a deep breath of air that doesn't smell like smoke or alcohol.

As you walk toward the street to hail a cab, you spot a flash of purple against the wall. Getting a bit closer, you recognize the passed out body of Thanos.

While a small part of your mind is telling you to just leave him there, you know you can't do that. You crouch down next to him, putting your fingers on his pulse point and letting out a sigh of relief when you feel his heartbeat. You look down at him, furrowing your brows when you notice that the cross that always hangs around his neck is slightly open.

Carefully picking it up, you take a peek inside and see an assortment of multi-colored pills. Shit, he's lucky he's just passed out. Had you known he'd been on... whatever this shit is... you would've banned all bartenders from serving him drinks. He may be the bane of your existence, but you're not going to let him die.

You close the cross and remove it from around his neck, shoving it in your pocket. You lightly slap his cheek a few times until he blinks his eyes open, looking around him. He looks at you, eyes adjusting to the light.

"Hey, Señorita," he slurs. "Where is everybody? Where's Nam-su? He was supposed to take me home."

You let out a small chuckle at the name he called your coworker. "They aren't here."

He frowns, trying to stand up. "I need another drink."

You grab onto his shoulders, supporting his weight as he nearly topples to the ground. "I think you've had enough, Thanos. It's time to get you home."

He makes a sound of protest, but doesn't have the strength to stop you from dragging him to the curb as you wave down a taxi. The car pulls up and you help Thanos into the back seat before sliding in next to him.

"Where to, Miss?"

The plan was to take Thanos to his place, but you don't know where he lives and the odds of him telling you or the cab driver right now are slim. He also can't be left alone in the state he's in. One more pill could send him over the edge.

With a sigh, you tell the driver the address of your apartment building, holding Thanos upright as he pulls away from the club.

<>

Thanos wakes up, his head pounding worse than ever. He reaches for his cross to pop a pill to get rid of the headache, but instead of finding the necklace, his hands just grab his shirt.

He opens his eyes, hissing when the light makes a pang of pain go through his head. Looking down, Thanos' cross is nowhere to be found. That's when he realizes that he's not in his bed, or any bed, for that matter. He's laying on the couch in an unknown place, a small garbage can on the floor next to him. On the coffee table in front of him is a glass of water. He reaches for it, downing the whole glass in one go. Spotting a small note next to the glass, he picks it up and reads it.

'If you barf I'll make you clean it up. Use the garbage.'

He hears a noise coming from the other room and stands up, wanting to figure out what is happening and where he is. When he steps into the kitchen, he nearly gasps when he sees you with your messy hair and oversized t-shirt on.

You turn to look at him. "Oh good, you're not dead. I really didn't want to deal with that." You walk over to the fridge. "Blue or red?"

He gives you a confused look. "What?"

"Gatorade," you clarify. "Blue or red?"

"Oh, uhh, blue."

You grab the blue bottle and place it on the table. "Drink that. The electrolytes are good for hangovers."

Thanos walks slowly to the table, picking up the bottle and taking a sip. "Do you have a bathroom?"

"No, I just pee out the window," you deadpan without thinking. You see him look down, a look of embarrassment and shame taking over his face. You sigh. "Down the hall to the left."

The boy nods and disappears down the hallway. He walks into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He feels in his pockets, taking out his phone and huffing when he sees the battery is dead. Looking inside your medicine cabinet, he frowns when he can't find what he's looking for. How can you have no painkillers? Instead he takes the mouthwash, taking two big gulps. Mouthwash has alcohol, and he needs it. When he doesn't feel the familiar sting, he looks down at the label.

'Alcohol free'.

Just his fucking luck.

He puts the bottle back in the cabinet and closes it, coming face-to-face with himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes have never been darker, at least not that he can remember. His skin looks pale, and his hair is disgusting. He turns the knob for the sink, splashing his face with cold water.

When he walks back into the kitchen, you're no longer there. He moves to the table, seeing a plate with scrambled eggs and toast sitting next to his drink. Thanos hesitates, not really knowing what to do.

"That's for you, you know."

He jumps a bit when he hears your voice behind him. You come out of your room dressed in your casual clothes.

You smile slightly at his expression. "Do you not like eggs?"

He shakes his head. "No, eggs are good."

Your smile grows. "Good because that's all I know how to make. Do you want any hot sauce with it or something?" You put the rest of the eggs from the pan onto your own plate and leave the pan to cool off.

"Do you have pepper?" Thanos asks.

You nod, walking to the table and putting your plate down on the opposite side of his. "It's on the table."

Thanos cautiously sits down in his seat, reaching for the pepper and putting it on his eggs. He takes a bite, pleased to find that they are cooked just right. He watches you as you eat your breakfast in silence, scrolling through your phone mindlessly. A shot of pain going through his head and he winces. "Do you have any painkillers?"

You shake your head, not taking your eyes away from the screen. "I do, but I think you've mixed enough substances with whatever's in that cross you carry."

Thanos feels his entire body tense at the mention of his cross. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing ends up coming out.

You lock your phone and put it face-down on the table. "Don't worry, I didn't throw it out. It's in a safe place, along with the painkillers and anything else that could potentially be abused."

The boy lets out a breath and nods, continuing to eat slowly. He looks you over silently. Your face is bare of makeup and your hair is still messy. Thanos has liked you since the moment he first saw you at the club, but you've never looked more beautiful than you do right now. "What happened? How did I get here?"

"I found you passed out outside the club last night when I was leaving," you explain. "You said Nam-gyu was supposed to bring you home but I couldn't find him, so I took you back here."

Thanos huffs. "Fucking idiot," he says under his breath.

You snort out a laugh, and Thanos thinks it might just be the most beautiful noise he's ever heard. He wants to know what he can do to hear that noise again.

You both finish your food in a comfortable silence, you looking at your phone and Thanos looking at you. At one point you catch him looking at you and raise an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

He takes a deep breath. "Why are you helping me? Why are you being nice to me? I've been nothing but an asshole to you."

You sigh. "Honestly, I've been asking myself the same question. I think I just saw you there, alone and in need, and I thought that I would've wanted someone to help me had they found me like that. You have been an ass, but I think that's more the pills than you."

Thanos nods slowly, taking in your words. "Well, thank you."

You nod. "Just please don't make me regret showing you where my apartment is. I don't wanna move."

The boy chuckles, and you feel the corners of your mouth twitch up at the sound. "I won't. I promise."

"Good." You stand, taking your plate and his and bringing them to the sink. "I have off today. You're welcome to stay here for a bit until you're feeling better. I'll call a cab for you when you're ready."

Thanos goes back to the couch he woke up on, sitting down. He finds a charger for his phone and plugs it in. You come into the room, putting a new bottle of gatorade on the coffee table in front of him. He thanks you and cracks the seal.

The two of you end up talking for hours. He tells you about how he got into music, and you tell him that you always wanted to try learning to play the guitar, though you've never had enough money to buy one or the other equipment. Thanos feels his heart grow fuller with every laugh he is able to get out of you. He gets more satisfaction from these few hours spent with you than he has every night drinking his life away at Club Pentagon.

At one point, you look at him, a lazy smile on your face. "What's your name?"

He gives you a look of confusion.

"Your real name. I doubt your real name is Thanos."

He lets out a nervous laugh. He hasn't gone by his real name in at least a year. "It's Su-bong," he says shyly. "Choi Su-bong."

"Su-bong," you repeat, as if trying out how it feels. You smile at him. "I like Su-bong. You should be him more often."

Later, as you stand outside your building calling for a taxi, you turn to look at the boy next to you. "You know, you could be so much more than this."

He looks at you with wide eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You have talent and heart, more than you've ever shown while out of your mind drunk and stoned," you say. "So many people's lives are ruined because they keep chasing that high. Don't be one of those people. Please. You're meant for better."

A cab pulls to the curb in front of you. As Su-bong opens the door, you put an arm on his shoulder, stopping him. Digging into your pocket, you pull out his cross and hand it to him. "The choice is yours. And if you decide you want to give your life another chance, I'll be here to support you." You hand him a slip of paper with your phone number. "This is for support. If you text me the way that you talk to me at the club, I'm going to block you. Do not make me regret this."

He smiles as he takes the cross and the paper from you. Once he sits in the car, he rolls the window down. "Thank you again, for everything."

You give him a small smile and wave before walking back into your apartment building.

Once inside his own apartment, Thanos walks to his bathroom. He takes the cross out of his pocket, opening it to find his pills. He picks one up, examining it. With a sigh, he drops the pill into the toilet, turning the cross over so the others follow. He watches as the bright pills swirl around bowl before disappearing down the drain. He doesn't want to be this person anymore. He wants to be someone that you can be proud of. Someone that he can be proud of.

[xazse]

Female!Reader × HybridPuppy!Yuji

The reader produces breast milk , which she expresses and donates to a shelter for small hybrids. HybridPuppy!Yuji often hugs her and presses himself against her chest to inhale the smell of milk, which makes his mouth water and his cock hard. In the end, he can't resist and begs his mistress to let him suck her milk. Or he sneaks into her bedroom at night and drinks her milk while she sleeps.

Instead of Yuji, you can have Satoru if you want to change the character

Notes: I love this so fucking much, I made a few changes I hope you don’t mind and I’m using Satoru btw because I don’t write for minors.

Pairings: PuppyHybrid!Satoru x LactatingFem!Reader

Warnings: I’m sorry but I’m warning ya now this is some nasty shit but a good nasty if ur into this! + Smut + Lactation + hybrids + reader has big boobs + possessive!Satoru + perv!Satoru + porn with plot + notproofread + bathroom sex + I think I spent too much time on plot and not enough porn sorry!

You love visiting the shelter near your house, it’s just a ten minute walk of you enjoying the scenery and speaking to the townspeople, they always greet you with the warmest smiles because they know you, they’ve known you for years.

In fact everyone here knows you: a widowed mother and wife, a mother whose children have been moved on to pursue their own hopes and dreams so in your little warm house it’s just you. You’ve noticed for a while a void in your heart, the loneliness does get to you some days but not today.

Recently a facility had been built, a hybrid facility, at first you hadn’t ever thought those existed because under new law hybrids are allowed to coexist around regular humans, they are to be treated as such it was a long time coming, it hurt your heart to see them being treated as outcasts.

You learned that this facility was for the young, abandoned and on occasion they’d take in adults who still couldn’t find their place.

And in that place you finally found your calling. for some odd reason you and your doctor couldn’t place you were still weirdly lactating, it was exhausting having sore breasts and an endless supply of milk you’d have to pour down the drain: too embarrassed to donate it in fear of being found out in the small town of people.

You awake up with full boobs that needed to be emptied or you’d spend the entire day in pain, pumping the milk was the only way, you’d only have to do it once a day but the sheer amount could keep a baby feed for the entire day.

You’d been talking to one of the workers of the facility and they’d been explaining how the young ones weren’t exactly taking well to the supplied formula milk, “they’d cry constantly” he exclaimed and it broke your heart into pieces the thought of them not eating hurts you, for the very first time you confided in the worker and he didn’t look disgusted not one bit in fact he seemed overjoyed.

“Disgusted? Why would I feel that way? This means the little ones will eat and not throw fits.” When he finishes that sentence a long drawn out sigh leaves his lips. You can’t help the giggle that falls from your lips.

Suguru you learn comes by your house to pick up the supplements and does he have some comments, he had waited a week to see how much you would produce.

“All this?!” You stand in your doorway shyly nodding in his presence, he’s actually appalled you weren’t lying when you said you have a good bit, he shakes the box in his hands and listens carefully, it’s hard for you to watch him do that right in front of you and not get a little flustered.

He thanks you graciously and makes his way back to the facility, you really hope they like it, it was one hell of a week for you. Though the feeling you did something good swarms you with warmth.

After that it was found that they absolutely loved your milk, and you had plenty to give, it was so cute the way Suguru described their reactions and how priceless it was. One little one had whined for more: Yuji was a special character he required a bit more milk since he was malnourished, Suguru couldn’t stop describing how he would not let go of the bottle, his grip was not going to let up easily, he looked so genuinely happy describing his work and how much he enjoys this field.

You break out of your thoughts and make your way to the facility, it’s downright gorgeous garden greeting you before the glass doors, smelling so good greets you just as warmly, you open the door and offer your greetings to the staff, Suguru had told you on the phone that the little ones had been particularly needy and needed some attention, attention they couldn’t provide right at the moment so they called you: they always do.

They’re way more comfortable with you, always asking when you’re coming back and on occasion they’ll beg you to stay a little longer with them, cute little faces decorated in tears to trick you.

Right now you’re relaxing on the mat in the playroom whilst they all run around chasing after one another, Nobara: a little lion hybrid is trying her hardest to doze off on your lap, she can’t with all the loud children playing like it’s their last day ever. You slowly and softly rub her short locs to lull her, it’s working until Yuji: a tiger hybrid ever the energetic thing is crawling to come bother her.

With Megumi: a wolf hybrid, and basically his other half following right behind him quietly.

Nobara seems unphased by the tiger trying to bother her, simply shooing him away so she can get her beauty sleep, that sentence makes you giggle, you continue to watch the threes antics without saying a word, a show with no production is how they act together.

Yuji sees your hands rubbing Nobaras ears and he’s immediately making his way towards your soft fingers, basically forcing you to rub his orange striped ears, this doesn’t make Nobara happy and she tries to shove him away; whining for your attention again.

You know how they get if you aren’t showing them equal parts attention so now both of your hands are preoccupied, Megumi doesn’t seem to mind, simply sitting and watching on.

You hear his voice before you even see him, he’s definitely running through the halls disrupting the staff, he’s yelling your name so loud that you know its Satoru and how eager he is, you know how eager puppy hybrids can be.

When he pops his head into the playroom the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen, he quickly makes his way over to you ignoring the little growls the babies give him, he’s pushing them aside against your protest and laying in your lap. The grip he has around your waist allows for him to fully envelope himself in your breasts.

“Missed you’s much” he playfully whines.

“You seen me yesterday Toru.”

Satoru lets out a satisfied sigh in the warmth of your boobs, he’s become obsessed with you, and it’s bad he’s had to he reprimanded by Suguru and the other staff multiple times for his possessiveness it’s not his fault though! He can’t control how he feels about you not after that day.

It was when he was feeding Megumi, sometimes as a way to bond Suguru will have Satoru bottle feed them, though he absolutely dreads it, he has to put up with it, all the other adult hybrids are far too hard headed.

He was curious one day, about how the milk had tasted, he found out through Suguru that the formula had been changed to breast milk, it was a slip of the tongue but he himself had also noticed how they whined for more.

He unscrewed the top to the bottle, the little calm Megumi was already drifting off so he wasn’t a problem.

He took a sip, and quickly pulled away: fully expecting it to be the worst thing he’s ever tried: it’s baby food not food meant for him but that feeling on his tongue never came in fact it was actually quite good.

Another sip and another after that; he scarfed the remains of the bottle down with a flushed face, it tassted like- well he couldn’t describe it but he knew he fucking loved it. He found himself sneaking into where it was kept and taking some for himself, it was almost an everyday thing, he knew when Suguru was questioning and bothering him he had to stop but he couldn’t, until he met the source of where the milk was coming from.

He snuggles his face deeper, ignoring and zoning out the loud noises around him, he can smell the milk on your breasts, you recently pumped? Probably this morning to be exact as and all he can think about is how you sat there for hours getting rid of the awful feeling in your sore breasts.

You feel something hard against your leg, you know how Satoru feels about you but this is too much. You’ve already had to tell him in the past that he’s much too young for you and would be better off finding someone who can fit his needs, he insists that he only wants you and doesn’t care about the age difference.

You have yet to bring up these feelings to Suguru though, you can’t bring yourself to say because what if Satoru won’t trust you anymore, it was hard building trust with the man due to his past experiences.

He’s only getting more excited by the minute, his tail moving in slow languid motions.

The way he’s looking up at you is filled with nothing but love and lust, you know that look too well.

You aren’t sure why you’re in a bathroom stall with Toru whilst he feels you up, caressing your boobs, every attempt to tell him to stop dies on your tongue when he rubs a sore area, your breath hitching in your throat when he grinds his hard cock on you.

Such a needy puppy he is, whining under his breath words that you can’t quite decipher especially with how heated you’re getting, your mind getting foggier by the minute as you let Satoru get his fill of you.

He rips apart your blouse and carelessly throws it on the floor, along with your bra next. Your nipples are exposed to the cold air of the facility and Satoru is reveling in it. He paws at your heavy boobs with rough calloused hands that are uncoordinated, squeezing the fat in his hand until he sees what he wants.

The droplets of your milk finally coming to fruition, he licks one nipple and you think you can see him visibly shake with excitement, he filts that nipple in his mouth and suckles, after a good minute he ceases his constant unconscious movements and readily focuses on the sweet milk cascading down his throat.

A moan breaks free from your trembling lips, this feels nothing like the machine you have at home, this feels so fucking good it alone has your cunt throbbing in your panties, the swirling of his tongue and just how content he looks is driving you mad.

You slip into that space that you know is bad for you, your voice is for some reason egging Satoru on, calling him all sorts of names that entice him to suck harder. Your hands don’t listen to you either because you’re rubbing the front of his pants in soft motions.

His whimpers don’t go unnoticed, nor does his swishing tail, such a good boy you tell him, losing all sense of rational he drags you with him to sit on the toilet, you don’t expect the amount of strength he has for being so lanky but he manages it.

He goes right back to sucking on your fat breasts that still replenish his appetite.

You let Satoru strip you of your bottoms and your panties, you let him slip his cock inside of you when you know you shouldn’t, he isn’t big but he fucks constant, always hitting that good spot inside of you based off your reactions.

He looks disheveled and messy, his face red and his mouth dripping with drool and remnants of your milk.

You let him bend you any which way he sees fit in that stall, an overexcited hybrid means it’s going to take a while to exhaust them, though you feel tired after having an orgasm you’ve never experienced he isn’t done, he’s cum multiple times, filled your cunt with his leaky cum he still isn’t done yet.

When he’s got you in his lap leaning on him for support he’s nonstop talking about what you and him will do from here, he talks about how he wants a family of his own and how you’ll be such a perfect mommy to his little ones.

[wtfaniii]

I can do it alone, but he can also save me

Fem reader x Hwang In-ho / Fem reader x Hwang Jun-ho

Part 1 // Part 2

•Summary: Jun-ho's girlfriend was a decorated policegirl, strong and brave, she, along with Gi-hun were taken to the games to stop them, however, there was a setback in between

•Note: Thanks for the support! Here I bring you the second part of this one shot that is personally one of my favorites.

•Warning: Maybe some drama, Some violence and attempted abuse, ¡Don't worry! this man arrives on time like a prince on a white horse

N/A: I haven't checked this yet, sorry if it has spelling mistakes

Gi-hun had told some participants that the next game would be dalgona, but it was not so and now they were upset with him, surrounding him and complaining about his mistake, calling him a "liar."

—You guys decided to play these games —the girl said standing in front of Gi-hun —Face the consequences and don't expect someone to come and save us.

—He's a fraud! —Player 100 shouted at him, pointing at accusingly and with contempt.

—ibelieve in him word —001 interrupted, standing next to her.

Due to the first impression that the two made on all the players, the complaints immediately stopped and retreated.

—It's nothing, I really believe you —Young-il said with a friendly expression

—And if you allow me... I would like to be on your team.

The next game would be in teams of five players, counting the girl, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho and now Young-il, they were full, however, when they were talking to get to know each other a little, a woman with the number 222 on his uniform approached them cautiously.

—¿Can I be on your team? Please —Jung-bae was going to interrupt her to tell that they were full but the young woman finished his sentence first —I'm pregnant.

The five pairs of eyes fell on the small bulge of her belly and noticed that it was true. Immediately, the woman spoke. —I'll look for another team.

—¿Are you sure you'll do it?— In-ho asked, looking at her carefully. A person who looked out for someone else's well-being in these games was rare to see, but considering the situation, it was quite understandable. He wouldn't give up his place if he wasn't so interested in his enemy.

She nodded confidently and left to find another team, it didn't take long, after all, most people took advantage of having someone like her on their team just by considering the word "police" in their introduction.

Once the teams were formed and they were told what had to do, they sat on the floor to wait the turn.

As time passed and gunshots mixed with screams sounded in the background, the young woman thought silently.

¿Will Jun-ho be okay? She really hoped so, she had known him for four years and knew that there were times when he could go to extremes to get what wanted.

It was something she loved about him but right now just worried about.

—¿What game are you going to play? —246 asked sitting next to her, momentarily taking her out of his thoughts.

—Gonggi —answered immediately, she was very good at that game, it had been his favorite since she was a child.

The others nodded and continued talking, she didn't go there with the intention of socializing too much.

For starters.

She was only there because Jun-ho had asked her to.

Jun-ho...

She just hoped him could find her and Gi-hun in time.

The policeman had no intention of stopping now, even without having the tracker active and with the fact that apparently someone was sabotaging them from inside, he was not going to stop searching.

The woman he loved was in those games, that wasn't going to be the plan, she was only supposed to be Gi-hun's bodyguard but things didn't go as planned.

—I think we should stop, it's almost time to eat and we're a bit far from the shore.

—We can't be so close now —he said, somewhat irritated and helpless. —Every minute they spend on that island is a danger.

He felt guilty for having dragged her into his own problems.

He remembered the last conversation he had with her before he lost sight of her.

[...]

—We are police officers —Jun-ho said, showing his badge to the guard who was guarding the entrance of the place

—Just like everyone else tonight —the man said with a mocking laugh, pointing at the long line waiting to get into the Halloween party.

Jun-ho didn't have enough patience to tolerate this, so with no other choice he went up to the man and took his gun out of his pocket.

—¿Do you want to see if this is a toy?

The guard stepped back in fear, giving them free passage.

The girl smiled proudly and waved her hand as if it were hot while sighed.

—That's my man —she boasted to the guard as they crossed the entrance. Jun-ho managed to hear her and inevitably a sly smile appeared on his lips.

—We have to find him before they do —he said, referring to Gi-hun searching the crowd but no masked pink guard was visible.

—It will be faster if we separate —she added, taking out her weapon and pointing it at the ground just to be ready in case used it —When we leave here it will be fondue night —she said without losing her charming touch.

It was something they both shared, despite being in tense situations like this, comments like that were never lacking, especially from the girl and that was something Jun-ho adored, her daring was part of what made the policeman fall in love with her.

—Maybe I should drag you into my problems more often —He replied with a smile and separated from her.

The girl was the first to find Gi-hun and surprisingly they let her get into the limo with him.

Jun-ho was unhappy about that but he couldn't change her mind and just when they thought they could intercept the front man of those suicide games they were forced to make a last-minute decision by shooting at the tires of the cars.

[...]

His stomach turned just remembering what people go through inside those games, he trusted that she could survive but the odds of not making him tremble and want to vomit.

—Okay... we'll call off the search —He relented after a few minutes.

He looked up at the sky and asked whoever would listen him to keep the woman he loves alive.

Meanwhile on the island, they had managed to get through the second game alive, she was sitting with Gi-hun's team silently watching around them when 001 sat next to her.

—Hi... —he greeted her with a soft smile, hoping that the mask being Young-il was convincing enough to fool her —I'm curious... if you're a police officer, ¿how did you end up here?

—¿Debts? —She replied with a false smile —My job was to take care of Mr. Seong but it didn't turn out the way I had in mind —she admitted, looking away again but feeling Young-il's intense gaze on her.

—So... ¿you're here as an undercover agent? —he asked, feigning surprise and curiosity.

He himself was the one who gave the order to allow her to also get into the limousine to accompany Gi-hun.

In-ho knew his brother would be worried about her, searching for her relentlessly, but it was inevitable, he needed to meet her in person and be sure how good of an influence she was on Jun-ho.

Or at least he thought it was a good excuse.

—Yeah... —She looked at him silently and attentively when she noticed a certain peculiarity in him appearance —¿Do I know you from somewhere? I feel like I've seen you before...

Him face seemed familiar but she couldn't figure out why. In-ho kept eye contact with her, waiting for her answer.

It was a pity, if she recognize it him had no other option to let her die in the next games but luckily for the girl she denied it.

—Forget it, I'm just stressed ¿And why are you here?

—My wife is sick and pregnant.

She looked at him with pity as he told her his story, it wasn't a lie, it was just that it happened years ago and he couldn't do anything to keep her alive.

—I'm sorry —The girl said after he finished his words.—I promise we'll get out of here and I'll help you as much as I can with the expenses.

The police had money, not to say that she was a millionaire but she lived in a good social status, she was willing to help him only because her heart was softened by him story.

–You barely know me, ¿why would you do that?

—My boyfriend has also had a somewhat hard life and I took this job for a reason, to help others.

She did not consider herself a saint, but if she had the opportunity to do something good for other people, she would do it regardless of the consequences.

—Also... I think I'm pregnant —She said with a small smile.

How chaotic and unfair could fate be that just one night before she was to go to the medical laboratory for her results, she was taken to those games against will.

On the other hand, she could also feel a slight connection with this stranger, which was why she revealed that to him so naturally, but she still didn't know exactly why.

—I have to go to the bathroom, I'll be right back.

He nodded and watched her leave but his eyes also noticed three other suspicious looking players who followed her into the bathroom.

Without thinking twice he also stood up.

Not even two minutes had passed since she entered the bathroom when a woman grabbed her by the collar of the jacket and threw her backwards, making her fall on back.

–¿You remember me? —the woman demanded, looking at her with disdain and annoyance

—No —She answered standing up.

—You threw my husband into prison and won't be out for another twenty years —The woman pulled out a small pocket knife and another woman stood behind the police girl to hold her —I thought about how to kill you for days.

—Very cute, I still don't know who you are.

Those words only made the woman even more furious as lunged at her and tried to stab her,

Her hard training served her well in this unarmed fight.

But she was counting on another man to come in to help the two players who were trying to kill the young policewoman.

—Three against one unarmed is not fair... —she gasped for air as saw that he had a small opening in his head, her had hit himself on the sink at one point during the fight.

—¡It was also not fair that my husband was sentenced to twenty years in prison for attempted abuse!

—Oh, believe me, I tried to make it forty.

A kick to the face from one of them managed to stun her long enough to give them time to pin her down on the cold, damp bathroom floor.

She couldn't hear clearly what they were saying but when she saw how the man placed himself on top of her, their intentions were quite clear.

She didn't have enough strength to continue defending himself, her felt bleeding from his leg from the knife and the cut on his head hurt, but like a hero coming to save the day, Young-il walked through the door and shouted "Hey!"

That small interruption was enough for her to hit the man in the genitals with her knee, making him move away and moan in pain.

She was too stunned to see what was happening, but before she knew it, he had her in him arms and walked out of the bathroom leaving the two women unconscious on the floor and the man with a bleeding nose.

—¡You should do a better job as guards! —he yelled at the two pink soldiers guarding the door, she didn't know it but that scolding was enough to fire those two.

He carefully led her to the men's room where, due to his front man advantages, he was able to have a guard deny another player access until he said so.

—Thanks... —Her murmured as he dropped her on the ground—But I had it under control.

She let out a giggle that made his ribs hurt, In-ho refrained from laughing, now he had to focus on fixing her wounds.

—Being a police officer you made many enemies —He said while using his jacket with some water to clean her.

—You have no idea.

In-ho continued to clean her wounds and after a few minutes everything was better for her, the girl stood up cautiously because of the wound on her leg and thanked Young-il with a small bow.

—Thanks for helping me, for the second time.

—I hope it doesn't become routine —he said with a soft smile, looking her up and down unconsciously.

When they came out of the bathroom there were suspicious glances but neither of them cared.

It was cute, she liked the way this man treated whenever her found himself in trouble, in a way he reminded her of Jun-ho,

She liked that even though she could defend herself, there was still a knight in shining armor who would arrive in the worst situations.

Young-il, the gentleman who arrived just in time and the only one who knew about her suspected pregnancy.

tag list:

@raya4643 @lvspedri @iloveoldermen0204 @ravenslocked

[alchemistc]

Gonna be pissed as hell if Tim throws out a plotline to replace it with a three episode arc about LA on fire (what will Brad do when his house burns down?), which makes me a hypocrite and a half because here's some ripped-from-the-headlines bullshit.

Tommy's duffle lands on the bottom stair with a thump.

He glances around the space like he's seeing it for the first time - or maybe like he's just taking in the gravity of the situation. There's a quirk of his lip, an ironic shake of his head, and Buck can't quite stop himself from imagining the thought running through his mind. Despite his intentions, he'd landed here anyway.

They're both bone tired. Exhaustion seeping into their marrow, the kind of tired Buck hasn't felt like this since Texas, maybe. He wants a shower and about 48 hours of sleep.

"I'll take the couch," Tommy says, voice raspy, eyes refusing to draw towards Buck.

And the thing is.

The thing is Tommy definitely had other places to go. Other friends who would have put him up as long as he needed, people he trusted, people who cared about him. But it was Buck he'd found as things wound down, the both of them covered in soot and ash, Tommy dropping to sit beside him on the curb as they waited for relief teams to finish up at the command tent.

They'd stared at the burnt out husk of Tommy's home just long enough for the tiredness to really settle in.

"You're not taking the couch," Buck says, and flips the light switch in the downstairs bathroom. Tommy's shower gel is still under the sink, his fancy curl conditioner down to the last few dollops because he'd spent enough nights here to go through most of a bottle. They've already showered at their respective stations, but Buck knows from experience how much Tommy hates the Harbor showers ("You'd think a fire station would have better water pressure, but I'm telling you, Evan, it's about as strong as an eighty-year-old's dribbling piss.") and Buck knows he still feels like he's caked in days of grime.

"Evan," Tommy starts, and Buck can't read into that, refuses despite the way it knocks around in his chest.

"You need the rest just as much as I do," Buck argues, and Tommy's shoulders just... slump. He sighs. Nods his head. Shifts on his feet and accidentally catches Buck's eye.

The contact holds just long enough for Buck to see the tears swimming in Tommy's eyes, and he can't imagine -

It strikes Buck for maybe the first time how dumb he'd been to ask Tommy to move in here. Tommy had a life, a home, a place he'd spent a decade making his own.

He'd made a joke once about a firefighter living so close to the hills, the first time he'd had Buck over, that ironic lilt to his voice while he talked about replacing all the east facing windows the first time he experienced the Santa Ana's after moving in, and Buck had spent a good ten minutes watching the light fade from his backyard, dusk casting the hydrangea bushes in a rose-gold hue.

"If I hug you are you gonna make a break for it?" Buck asks, regretting the spiteful tone when Tommy curls further in on himself, but he ducks his head even as he's shaking it, and Buck doesn't fight the urge any longer, three long strides before Tommy's curling fists around Buck's waist and pressing his nose into the skin of Buck's neck.

("It's just stuff," he'd said, knee knocking against Buck's where they huddled together on the curb across the street, Tommy uncharacteristically fidgety as they both stared straight ahead.

"Come stay with me," Buck had responded, and felt Tommy tense so quickly he'd sort of expected him to bolt to his feet and leave.

Instead, the stillness eased out of Tommy's body all at once on an exhale, and he'd nodded out of the corner of Buck's eye. "Okay."

He hadn't quite been able to stop himself from reaching out to squeeze Tommy's knee. "Okay.")

Tommy's never been one to take more than his fair share. He breaks the hug before Buck can really get into it, sniffs once like Buck didn't notice the wetness against his neck, shifts backwards and sideways. He stops halfway through the doorframe when he catches sight of the canvas bag on the counter.

Buck just hopes Maddie actually bought the specific list Buck had sent her three hours ago. Tommy's particular about his stuff, and he'd pressed the point with his sister despite the eyebrow raise he could see in every text back she sent him. He can see Tommy doing the math - only so many people with a key to the loft, only so many people who weren't there in Tommy's neighborhood for a stretch of exhausting hours that hadn't amounted to much other than saving that purple house down on the end of the street that Tommy was always bemoaning for having a better garden than him.

"Tell Maddie thank you," Tommy says, still with that rasp to his voice that under any other circumstance would have Buck vibrating in place. When he digs through it, Buck catalogues his findings - that weird organic toothpaste Tommy swore by, the cheap electric toothbrush he refused to switch out for the better one Buck had a subscription to; a pack of briefs and socks in Tommy's preferred brand.

It's not the first time Buck has wished there wasn't a canyon between them, but he strikes the urge to quip, to smile, to reach out and try to comfort him.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he digs it free, glances at the readout and immediately feels the ire rise in his throat again. It's from Eddie, a private response to the group message he'd sent out letting everyone know Tommy had a place to stay.

Is that a good idea?

And Buck gets the point. Understands that Eddie has his best interests in mind, but he's not here, hasn't been here, hadn't been there when they rolled down the street to find three houses already fighting the blaze.

Buck can't hold in the annoyed snort, and when he glances up it's to find Tommy's eyes on him.

"I'm gonna go shower," Buck tells him, and manages three whole steps before Tommy's hand curls around his wrist.

He doesn't seem to have the words to ask, but Buck reaches back to strip his shirt over his head anyway and shuffles them both towards the shower.

It's the least sexy thing they've ever done together, if he's being honest. Buck hasn't felt this tired in years, hasn't felt this grim in years, barely has the energy to do more than scrub at Tommy's back while he rinses his hair. Perfunctory, is a term for it, except for the way Tommy leans into the press of his fingers when he suds up Tommy's hair, except for the way Buck drops his forehead to Tommy's chest while Tommy aims the showerhead at Buck's back.

This is the kind of stupid shit Buck had meant, all those months ago, even if he'd done an extremely shitty job of expressing it. This is the kind of shit he'd pictured while Josh waxed poetic about some television show and wondered if Buck saw a future with Tommy.

By the time they're rinsed off and toweled dry Buck can barely stand, but as Tommy's footfalls echo just behind his up the stairs Buck has just enough sense left to roll open the drawer he'd never cleared out, toss Tommy a pair of clean briefs and one of his threadbare LAFD shirts.

Tommy stares at the drawer long enough for Buck to pull on his own clothes. He blinks himself out of it only when Buck stubs his toe wrestling the body pillow Tommy always pretended he wasn't going to end up curled around out from under the bed.

The drawer closes with an echoing 'snick'. Tommy tosses his own towel in the hamper and makes quick work of dressing.

His hair is gonna be a nightmare in the morning. They're both gonna be absolute messes. Buck's pretty sure the only food in this place is raw flour and approximately seventy-five chocolate croissants - he's pretty sure he used up the last of his eggs trying to perfect his meringue technique.

There's a stiff moment after they slide into bed where they both just lay on their backs and stare at the ceiling, oozing into Buck's mattress. Tommy shifts first, and Buck's sure it'll be away - no matter how often they fell asleep tangled together Tommy always ended up hugging the edge of the bed, and it's not like -

"Is this okay?" Tommy asks, even as he's shifting a leg over Buck, hands finding purchase in the cotton of Buck's sleep shirt.

It's like he's been dosed, for the way Tommy's body sliding into place next to his steals all the energy he has left in him. He blinks once, twice, manages to get a hand in Tommy's damp curls in response. The rest of it can wait for tomorrow.

"Evan?" He's sinking into it too, Buck can tell - the weight of his arm and leg pressing Buck further into the mattress, the drawl of Buck's name drifting instead of sharp.

Buck hums. Presses lips into whatever skin he can find without opening his eyes - a temple, or a cheekbone maybe. "Go to sleep, Tommy," he manages, but if Tommy responds he doesn't hear it.

[abbeyarchives]

This is beautiful, I can't wait to see the finished piece!

SO! here it is! The roof comes off with the rafters attached; the floor for the 'ground' level is also removable--remember that this is designed to sit in about 3 inches of litter. The windows are inset so that after this is fired, I can cut and glue in little panes of stained glass.

[aliteralsemicolon]

Thinking about how Spencer takes care of you when you're too exhausted to take care of yourself.

He walks into your bedroom to find you on the brink of sleep, carelessly curled up on your end of the bed and his brows raise in slight concern as he scans you. You couldn't even be bothered to change out of your day clothes. He chuckles lightly at the sight, as he makes his way to you.

"Baby?" He gently calls to you, rubbing your calf with his hand as he takes a seat next to your legs. You're unable to respond to the sound of his voice despite hearing it. He tries again, this time kneeling on the floor next to your head.

"Angel?" His fingers lightly brush through your hair as he whispers near your ear.

"Hmm?" You reply hazily.

You wait for him to speak so you can go back to sleep but all that follows is silence. He resumes his motions in your hair and it keeps you aware of his presence. He's waiting for you to gain some more consciousness. You rub your eyes, fluttering them open and Spencer's quick to guide your hand away from your face.

Right. Your makeup.

"What's up?" You mumble, stifling a yawn.

"I know you're tired, and I'm sorry for having to wake you up," he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "but you do know why it's bad for you to fall asleep like this?"

This is a topic the two of you have discussed before. You're usually quite meticulous about removing your makeup before bed, but you're also no stranger to nights when you can't find any energy to do so.

"Mhm. Clogged pores, risk of infections, bacteria spread, discomfort…" You trail off, summarising his extensive research.

Getting you up and off this bed is a losing battle tonight and Spencer graciously accepts defeat, sporting an endeared grin.

"Can I at least help you get comfortable? Would it be alright if I took these off for you?" He tugs at your top and waits for your response. You nod, letting out a barely audible hum.

Spencer moves off the floor and begins to remove your clothing. "You're gonna have to help me just a little bit, Angel. Lift your hips for me."

You blindly follow his commands, wanting to get it over with so that he can relax and you can go back to sleep. He doesn't relax, though. As he rids you of the last of your clothing, he mentally fights himself on letting you sleep with your make-up. There are so many risks involved, but hygiene aside, Spencer knows that if you wake up with your pillow stained– or God forbid…a pimple– you're going to be beyond pissed with yourself.

The sudden dip in the mattress slightly startles you, as a cool feeling drags against your cheek and you whine.

"Shhhh, sorry, it's just me." Spencer coos.

"What're you doing?" You groan, squeezing your eyes shut, still in a sleepy haze.

"Just wiping off your makeup, sweet girl. You're going to thank me tomorrow." His finger hooks under your chin and he soothingly rubs his thumb just under your lips.

"Spence…" You begin whining but you're unable to pronounce anything else coherently.

He can tell you're slightly irritated, but he doesn't mind. He knows that it's the exhaustion talking.

"I know, I know." He sympathises with his continually gentle tone. "I'm almost done. You're being so good for me right now."

Your lips pout, but you don't complain any further, his words calming you. By the time he's finished ridding your face of cosmetic residue, you're knocked out again. Light snores can be heard from you. He chuckles to himself at the sight of you. So peaceful. So adorable. He leans in closer and plants a firm, lingering kiss on your forehead before he disappears to get ready for bed himself.

"Spence?"

He turns around at your groggy voice, still half asleep. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Anytime, my pretty girl."

[sidneywasfound]

WHAT DID YOU SAID? | F1 Drivers x Fem!Reader

Pairings; Lando Norris,Oscar Piastri,Charles Leclerc,Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader

Summary; You introduced yourself with his last name

Warnings; Fluff 100%.A little sexual innuendo in one of them but after that nothing more. Bad English writing,English is not My first lenguage.

AUTHORS NOTE; It was supposed to be in like a tiktok trend situation but I made it in common situations...btw FRANCO EN ALPINE 2025 VAMOSSS CARAJOO🇦🇷

Lando Norris

You were on vacation in Brazil, and you two decided to stay at a luxurious hotel. So you organized tasks for each other,Lando would take care of the luggage and its organization and you would take care of the reservation and daily activities. Waiting for Lando at the reception, you decided to ask for the keys of the suite.-"Hello and welcome to the Hotel, do you have a reservation?"- The girl at reception said to you smiling.-"Yes yes"-you said turning towards the entrance door where Lando was still unloading the suitcases from the car-."So a matrimonial suite or...?"-The girl said as she pointed at Lando."Oh yes a room for two..." You said laughing at how he was struggling to carry all the luggage."Very well,Could you tell me under whose name it was made?". You turned around looking at her."it'll be Norris,y/n Norris." The girl typed it on the computer and stood up."Yes, it's here. I'll give you the key in a moment" she said walking foward the keys that were hanging on wall,searching for the key number #237 ."so...y/n Norris right?" You heard his voice behind your neck. You blushed and turned your head but he kissed your neck and wrapped his hands around your waist."i'm sorry! But it was so easy! I put my name and...and i just couldn't help it..."Lando laughed as the girl gave you the room key."Whatever, let's just go..." You said blushing and grabbing your suitcase."He quickly approached you as you headed to the elevator and shamelessly spoke."What I know is that tonight I will make you my wife in that room." You almost choked and hit him lightly in the chest while he laughed."Lando!".

Oscar Piastri

You two were in a children's store creating a little stuffed animal,a little kangaroo with a Mclaren shirt and Heart Shapped Sunglasses."i think it's perfect" Oscar said grabbing the kangaroo and stroking his ears."well i think that HE'S perfect...how we should call him??" You said grabbing the stuffed animal from his hands offended by his use of pronouns towards the kangaroo."Ok...how we should call HIM...?" He said with a smirk,You looked at the kangaroo and thought for a while."mmmh...what do You think about Jack...like Oscar Jack piastri!" You said hugging little Jack."I don't think it was a veeery original name but I'm okay with it." Oscar said grabbing the kangaroo."Now we must put gave him a heart!" You said pointing to the girl who was putting those stuffed hearts into the stuffed animals."umm don't You think that he's already ready to go...? I mean...Children are the only ones who put those hearts in-."I can't finish seeing how his girlfriend was already in front of the girl with the kangaroo. He sighed and walked toward her. "Okay little Jack, we're almost ready. Could you tell me the names of his parents?" The girl said happily writing on a piece of paper to put it in his heart."oh sure! Oscar and y/n Piastri" You said Innocently. The girl wrote that down and put the heart in Jack." Here You go honey!" She gave you the kangaroo,You turned around and saw Oscar with his eyes wide open and his face bright red."what's wrong?" You said naively."y-you...nothing." He said pretending that you didn't just imply a marriage between you two."Did it make you nervous that your girlfriend wanted your son to have married parents...?" You said in a mischievous voice,You brought the kangaroo close to his face."oh dada i looove having your last name!" You said imitating a silly voice pretending to be Jack Piastri the little kangaroo."Stop..." Oscar said blushing.

Charles Leclerc

You two were playing an online game,It was a game like the Sims but a little different,you didn't take it so seriously.They were creating a family drama between their characters out of boredom "ok Mine is going to be named magnolia." You said making a new character on the Game."Pfft magnolia? That's a dumb name mine is going to be named umm..." Charles couldn't decide any epic name for his son."Destroyer of universes" You burst out laughing."Destroyer of universes is not going to date Magnolia! What would even be the last name of my grandchildren?! Destroyer or Universes?" You said laughing."it's going to be milkyway!" Charles said offended "Whatever! Let's meet in the game so we can get them to know each other!" Charles said and wrote your last name on the Cheats Game tab."Uh, your username doesn't appear...did you change it?" You smiled, when you played you used to use your last name as your username."Today I put my name" Charles quickly deleted your last name and wrote your name,making a specific username appear..."y/nleclerc" he said turning red."o-oh...well.." He got nervous and started to stutter."haha What happened? I thought we were a couple in the game?"

Franco Colapinto

You were in Argentina, you were in a luxurious restaurant about to finish your food."i hope You likes it amor"he said laughing at how You looked so happy eating your food."it is soo delicious!"You said cleaning yourself with a napking."maybe we should ask for the bill" he said smiling,You just nodded. The bill for some reason took a while to arrive, so he decided to go to the bathroom. When he arrived you decided to surprise him and pay, and the waitress asked you."aww it is so cute that You paid for him...can i know your name?" She said grabbing the bill. "I'm y/n,y/n colapinto" You said making a joke to the waitress,but instead,You got a confused look and a awkard laugh,She just said goodbye politely. Franco came back from the bathroom."ugh todavía no llegó la cuenta?!"(The bill hasn't arrived yet?!) You looked at him trying to calm him down."nonono,it did! I paid hon' hehe..." Franco eyes went wide."Whaaat? Babe! You shouldn't havee" he said as You grabbed your purse and stood up."It's not a problem babe, sometimes I like to pamper you" He just laughed and both left the restaurant. In the car you decided to ask him."hey babe...can i ask You something?" You said playing with the strip of the purse."Sure hermosa,is something wrong?". He said without taking his eyes off the road."When the bill arrived,i told the girl as a joke that my last name was colapinto...and she looked at me worried!" Franco stood in silence before bursting in laugh,You were confused."Oh babe why would You said that jajaj!?" You blushed."what's wrong with it?! i just wanted to joke about being your wife!" He laughed."oh babe i know...but in Argentina...When you get married your last name doesn't change...well nobody calls theirself by their husband's last name so...maybe she saw us kissing and when you told her that, she thought we were siblings". You almost choked from shame."WHAT?! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME" You shouted."HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!".

[iceclew]

oi, @mechazushi! -w-)

*throws this in like a granade and jumps into hide-out*

[the-bleeding-weave]

Now i need a fic of daisuke yelling at jimmy to go in the vent himself.

Wait a minute, i can just write it.

...

Gimmie a sec...

(Cw for canon typical gore, also spoilers)

Daisuke stood in silence, his back facing Jimmy. It was the most quiet Jimmy had ever seen him and something about it deeply unsettled him.

"Daisuke?"

"Why does Anya look pregnant?" Daisuke merely looked over his shoulder at Jimmy, his eyes narrow and his stance firm.

Jimmy's heart sinks a little.

"I-I-I don't fuckin know, I'm not her dad! Come on what are you waiting for? She could be killing Curly right now!"

Daisuke snaps back at Jimmy, "she would not fucking do that! Answer the god damn question Jimmy, how in the hell did she get pregnant? She's not in a relationship with anyone on this ship, she looks like she cant be any less than 5 months along, and she certainly does not seem like she trusts you enough to let you into her bed willingly. Tell me the fucking truth. Now."

Jimmy stood stunned, it was like his bones had turned into solid cement.

"ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION!" Daisuke grabbed a long screwdriver from Swansea's workbench and pointed it shakily at Jimmy.

"You wouldn't dare hurt me..." Jimmy's brows furrowed.

Daisuke trembled as he locked eyes with Jimmy, but when he glanced up at the sparking wires in the vent his body stood still again.

"Go up there. If you want someone to check on Anya so bad, you do it."

"What?! I don't know the route in there! You're the only one that does besides maybe Swansea!" Jimmy's voice was shaking but he tried to keep a rough intimidating tone.

"It's a one way street Jimmy, you can't fucking miss it. Now, get in the fucking vent," Daisuke adjusted his grip on the screwdriver.

"N-no! Those live wires will fucking kill me!"

"They'll kill me too, so why do you want me to go in there so bad? Why are you so willing to put my life on the fucking line over yours? My body isn't even that much smaller than you so don't you dare try to say I'd have an easier time in there."

"What other choice do we have?! Anya could be hurting Curly right now! Just get in the damn vent and stop arguing over nothing!"

There was a pause, a tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Then without warning Daisuke dashed behind Jimmy out the door, sprinting down the hall.

Jimmy ran after him but as he rounded a corner, he found himself with a shining axe pointed at his head.

"Get. In. The fucking. Vent." Daisuke was shaking but his eyes were dark with rage.

Jimmy slowly put up his hands and glanced at Swansea on the ground. He was slowly waking up, maybe hed stop this.

"SWANSEA DAISUKE IS TRYING TO KILL ME!"

Swansea groggily lifted his head from his puddle of drool on the ground and looked at him with an unamused gaze.

"Finally. The one right thing the kid's done for the ship..." he let his head fall back to the floor.

"Get in there. Now." Daisuke inched the axe closer to Jimmy's chest.

Slowly but surely Jimmy backed his way into the utility room with Daisuke never losing eye contact with him. As they finally were in range of the vent Jimmy stopped and looked up at it again.

"Daisuke please I can't do this, I would die just trying to get in there!"

"Then it would be a win for us all. Now get in. I wanna know if Anya is ok," His eyes started to grow wet with tears.

"Daisuke ple-" before Jimmy could finish Daisuke screamed at him.

"SHUT UP AND GET IN THE FUCKING VENT!"

Jimmy shook as he looked up at the gaping maw of the sparking vent and slowly climbed up the ladder.

He scanned the chamber for sparks as he made his way in, carefully trying to keep his limbs away from any cables he felt in the darkness. He looked back down at Daisuke trying to plead one last time.

But Daisuke had no forgiveness. He gripped the axe harder and narrowed his eyes at him, gesturing with the axe head to go further.

Jimmy's body trembled as he climbed through, his eyes darting to every spark and buzz he saw. The echo of the fans was deafening and the rumbling warble of the metal sheeting as he crawled made him terrified he might fall through one of the panels if he stayed on it too long.

Finally he made his way to the vent in the medbay but just as he reached to push it open-

He screams.

A live wire sends searing shocks though his arm and he lurches backwards, unknowingly backing into even more live wires. In an instant his body is filled with the fires of hell itself, shocking his very bones and making his muscles jerk and spasm uncontrollably. The pain is excruciating, he feels his heart jumping in disjointed rhythms and for a moment he thinks hes having a heart attack. He uses his little remaining strength to push open the vent and crawls over to the door to unlock it. The effort makes him collapse to the ground as his body contorts, desperately trying to find a position that doesn't agrivate his burns. But it's no use.

He lays on the ground and opens his eyes with heaving breaths finding himself face to face with Anya's twitching body.

Her eyes are lifeless and her mouth and nose are wet with blood and vomit. In her hand is an empty bottle of pain pills.

Curly looks down at her sobbing quietly, staring at her as if he was trying desperately to will her back to life. He lets out garbled breathy wails as tears pour down in rivers from his eye.

Jimmy locks eyes with Curly who looks up at him in horror.

Though his voice is beyond weak and his vocal cords have been mostly destroyed, he tries his hardest to muster up a word for the first time since the crash.

"...why....."

"Why can’t I go in myself?- Uh, well Swansea trained you Daisuke, obviously."

"…"

"I won’t be too far away..!"

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Lilia Vanrouge - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Courtyard]

[rustle, rustle]

Lilia: Heeey, Malleuuus～ Come out, come out, wherever you are～ Sebek's about to burst into tears 'cause he can't find you～

Jade: I was curious what you were up to what with your fervent rustling through the hedges… I see, you were searching for Malleus-san.

Lilia: Oh, Jade. We're supposed to be having an important meeting in the dorm right now, but he's nowhere to be found.

Jade: My, an important meeting? How fascinating. Is there some pressing issue?

Lilia: Nothing dire. Actually, the Pop Music Club decide to throw together an impromptu birthday performance tomorrow!

Lilia: And we wouldn't want it to clash with the party we're hosting at the dorm, right? So, we wanted to make sure the schedules lined up.

Jade: Aah… So that's what it was. Speaking of the Pop Music Club, I found the performance they gave during the freshmen club orientation to be utterly captivating.

Jade: To think you were putting in this much effort behind the scenes to make it happen. I'm sure this one will be just as hilar― splendid as last time.

Lilia: Well, yeah, we're gonna go all out and rock on! It'll be in our club room like usual, though.

Lilia: There's no admission to come see us this time. You should come and witness my amazingly passionate screamo.

Jade: Fufufu, just hearing you speak of it is giving me quite the thrill. I definitely will be coming by.

Lilia: Kheeheehee, I'll be waiting. …Oookay, I need to get back to searching for Malleus. See ya, Jade.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lounge]

[Diasomnia Students chatter]

Lilia: ―Everyone, I found Malleus. Just as I thought, he hadn't realized it was the meeting time already.

Lilia: Now, we might be a little late, but we'll start the meeting now! We need to quickly chat through the important stuff, since we're short on time.

Lilia: For our Housewarden's sake, we'll start with the agenda for today…

[Diasomnia Student A speaks]

Lilia: …Hm? You've already spoken through the topics? You all thought it would be rude to bother Malleus with this meeting?

Lilia: So you're saying… I DIDN'T NEED TO GO LOOKING FOR MALLEUS～?!

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lilia's Room]

Lilia: Whew. It's a struggle having so many model students taking initiative...

Lilia: Well, now I'm done with my shower. I'm not taking one step out of my room anymore.

Lilia: Let's gooo, the sun's set already so I'm feelin' at the top of my game. My day finally starts now!

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lilia's Room]

Lilia: First, I'll do all my daily quests for my game… Huh, where's my keyboard? I swear I had it here yesterday…

[rustle, rustle]

Lilia: Ohh, here it is. It just got completely buried under this stack of papers.

Lilia: There sure are a ton of papers scattered about. This is a test from last year, and that's something I got my first year here. Oh, and this…

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Lilia: A survey? …Oh right, Crowley was practically demanding that it gets filled in.

Lilia: I was ignoring it, since I couldn't really think of anything to write. I guess I should finish it up before it gets buried under things again.

Lilia: But even so, what am I supposed to request…? We're kept out of the rain and wind, and have fully working AC. I also have an abundance of time to spend eating or enjoying myself.

Lilia: I am able to watch over my family learn, while surrounded by friends. It would be too greedy to ask for anything more.

Lilia: I'll just write, "I have no issues with the current quality of life," and―

[clatter, clatter…!]

[CRASH!]

[THUD! BAM!]

Lilia: Things just keep falling off their little piles whenever I turn around. …But hey, it's no big, since it's not interfering with me at all!

[knock, knock]

Lilia: Hm? Looks like someone's here, and so late at night. Coming! I'll open the door so hold on a sec.

[Diasomnia Student B speaks]

Lilia: Oh, it's just my neighbors. Don't worry, there's no problems here.

[Diasomnia Students leave]

Lilia: Dear me, that's the problem with stone buildings, they make even the smallest noise echo so loudly. Especially when it's quieter at night.

Lilia: Whenever I'd play my instrument, there'd be an uproar about some kind of terrifying sounds echoing night after night.

Lilia: All I was doing each day was playing a little drums while doing a little dance… Dorm life sure can be difficult to get used to.

Lilia: If I didn't have to deal with that, then I could watch movies at full volume, or stream video games…

Lilia: Ohh, I guess this is something I can add to the survey. "Sound travels too easily. I'd like to install a soundproofing system.

Lilia: What else…? Ah! I don't have time to be doing this. I'll miss my consecutive login bonus. I need to log in to the game right now!

Muscle Red: Farewell, see you next raid.

Lilia: Today's drop rate was trash… On days like this, it's best to just cut my losses and not keep going.

Lilia: Before I turn off my computer, I think I'll check out that online crane game. Sometimes they have some real fun prizes there.

Lilia: Ooh, that plushie armrest looks cute! How many people are waiting in line…? Oh, just one. Perfect, I'll join the queue then.

Lilia: I never thought there'd come a day where I'd be able to play a crane game from the comforts of my room.

Lilia: It has so many different things, from snacks to everyday objects, and even gives a free play for logging in. Someone thought this through real well.

Lilia: Even these dragon feet slippers I'm wearing now was something I won from using those free play tickets.

Lilia: Oh, it's finally my turn. This little plushie looks like it has a heavy head, so… I'll start by dropping the crane around here!

Lilia: Take that! …Nice, it moved like I wanted. Then now, I'll aim for the same place one more time―

Lilia: ―Now I'm just feeling waaaay exhausted… Even after it felt like it would almost fall, it still took a long time to get there.

Lilia: Everything came out alright in the end, since I got it, but… Looks like it wasn't just the drop rate in the game earlier, my luck is just no good today.

Lilia: But I was able to get what I wanted, so I'm happy with that. Winning it when I wasn't expecting it is just another kind of fun.

Lilia: Well, I guess next I'll continue watching that one drama on the streaming site… Hm? What's this recommended video…?

Lilia: My favorite band just released a new song! I gotta check out their music video right away!

Lilia: Kheeheehee, there's still so much I get to do tonight. I love how every single day is packed full of fun things.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lilia's Room]

Lilia: Urrrgh… Urh… Bright… …Why's there sunlight?

Lilia: Oh, I forgot to close the curtains… ...Tch. …Disgusting…

Lilia: ...Ah, no, I should get up… Hrrrnnngh, so briiight!

Lilia: In the end, I wasn't even able to do half of what I wanted to do. Night sure does pass quickly…

Lilia: If I just get everything ready with magic, I could fall back asleep now and still make it in time for class… Or not, I'd probably just end up sleeping in.

Lilia: I guess I'll head to the washroom to try and wake up.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Washroom]

[splash]

Lilia: Whew! The water in the wintertime is so chilly that it wakes me right up. Now, next is…

[Diasomnia Student C speaks]

Lilia: Oh hey, good morning. I see you've come to the washroom as well, this morning. …Hm? What am I doing?

Lilia: It's skincare, S-K-I-N-C-A-R-E! You shouldn't skimp on it, you know～? For example, I'm going to…

Lilia: Hm? Was I supposed to start with this watery stuff first? Or was it the more paste-like stuff?

Lilia: …Eh, shouldn't matter which goes on first! Once they're on my skin, it'll all end up the same.

Lilia: 'Kay, skincare done! As for the makeup… Ooh, right, I should try to do the clumpy eyelash I saw in a video the other day.

Lilia: I'll just use magic to toss on my eyeshadow. Done. The eyelash curler is… Ah, here it is.

Lilia: First, I need to make sure my eyelashes are standing straight up. Like―

Lilia: …Ouch! I caught my eyelid! The road to cosmetic beauty sure is filled with pain and patience…

Lilia: Once I brush the little hairs, I need to apply mascara to make them longer before they lose their structure.

Lilia: Then, I'll use the tweezers. I need to make little clumps before the mascara dries―

Lilia: And there we go, I've given myself the doll-like eyelashes that's all the rage with the young folks these days!

Lilia: Hehe, it really goes well with my big and bright eyes.

Lilia: Next is fixing my hair style. I'll just apply some silky smooth hair milk all over my head, and…

Lilia: Then poof it to completion with a bit of magic. Kheeheehee, I look splendid, befitting of what a birthday boy should look like!

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lilia's Room]

Lilia: Okay, time to get chan… Ouch! Uuuurrrrg… My pinky toe… What numbskull left an amp right in the middle of the walking path!?

Lilia: …Right, this is my room, so the culprit can only be myself. Why does it feel like this room just feels smaller than before?

Lilia: Should I get more storage?

Lilia: …Nah, if I'm going to buy any furniture, I should prioritize getting a small tea table for when Silver and the others come to visit.

Lilia: …Haha, listen to me now. When I was filling out the survey, I thought I was satisfied with everything as they are, but…

Lilia: I can still think of more things I want, and even more things I want to do. Now, when did I learn to wish for such extravagance?

[Main Street]

Jade: Good morning, Lilia-san. Was yesterday's meeting able to go off without a hitch?

Lilia: Morning, Jade. Both the party and the performance are ready to go. Today is going to be a real fun day.

Jade: Fufu, I am certainly looking forward to see what sort of performance we'll be… blessed with today. A very Happy Birthday to you.

Lilia: Right-o! Make sure you have the time of your life during today's performance, too!

Requested by @kingren77.

[insidekatmind]

Clingy bf~ Bukayo saka

It was one of those nights when the silence of the house was broken only by the clicking of your laptop keys and the creaking of the chair every time you moved slightly. The warm light of the lamp illuminated the sheet of notes next to you, and the essay you were writing seemed endless. It was almost two in the morning, and you had no intention of stopping.

But then you heard slow, muffled footsteps on the floor. A moment later, a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, warm and familiar.

"Please, baby," Bukayo whispered in your ear, his voice hoarse from interrupted sleep. His lips brushed your neck, his breathing slow and deep. "I can't fall asleep without you."

You smiled slightly, but didn't look away from the screen.

"Babe, I have to finish this essay," you replied in a gentle but firm tone. "Go to bed, I'll be there as soon as I'm done."

You heard Bukayo sigh heavily behind you, his chest rising and falling against your back. He reluctantly let go of you and sat down next to you, elbows resting on the table and his gaze fixed on you.

“How long are you going to take?” he asked, trying not to sound impatient or too needy, but the way he drummed his fingers on the table gave him away.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you looked at the clock on your laptop. There were at least three pages to go.

“Maybe an hour… or two,” you muttered, half-heartedly.

Bukayo groaned in exasperation, making you giggle. “Two hours?! Honey, can’t you take a break? Just five minutes. I promise I won’t bother you again.”

You looked up at him. His dark eyes stared at you with that pleading sparkle you knew so well. His face was soft, slightly puffy from sleep, and his unruly curls fell over his forehead. He was irresistible.

“Bukayo, really, if I don’t finish it tonight…” you began, but he cut you off, leaning closer with a small grimace.

“If you don’t finish it tonight, you’ll finish it tomorrow,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “You need to rest. You’ve worked too hard this week.”

You heard his thoughtful tone, and guilt began to creep into your chest. You knew he was right, but the anxiety of completing everything in time was holding you back.

He seemed to sense your internal conflict, because he reached out to intertwine his fingers with yours. “Look, five minutes,” he repeated softly. “Just to be together. Then you can go back to writing, if you want.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then let out a defeated sigh. “Five minutes,” you agreed. "But not a second longer."

A huge smile spread across Bukayo's face as he stood up and tugged at your hand. "Deal."

The two of you made your way to the couch, where he pulled you into his arms, wrapping a blanket around you. He lay down, pulling you on top of him, and you rested your head on his chest.

His breathing was slow and steady, and you could feel his heartbeat under your ear. His fingers began to play absentmindedly with your hair.

"You know, it's not fair," he muttered after a few minutes.

"What?" you asked, your voice already slightly more relaxed.

"That your essay gets more attention than me," he said with a fake pout in his voice. "I'm jealous."

You burst out laughing. "Really?"

"Yes," he replied, holding you closer. "But I'm willing to forgive you… if you take me to breakfast tomorrow."

You looked up to meet his eyes. "Deal."

Bukayo smiled and closed his eyes, resting his head against yours. "Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight, Baby," you whispered. The sage could wait a little longer.

[from-izzy]

[17:07] | enhypen park sunghoon

Sunghoon grunts at the reminder of your true visit, yet still makes love to your collarbones to cherish every second with you. “Not yet…” he pleads that time will go slower. 

pairing » enhypen park sunghoon x fem!reader

trope/au » established relationship au, (not so) secret relationship au, non-idol au

genre » fluffy fluff with slight suggestive themes (nothing like this), lovesick and cute sunghoon, boyfriend sunghoon, reader helping with sunghoon's sister's dinner dance prep!

word count; estimated reading time » 1293; ~5 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » getting caught during making out by sunghoon's sister, kissing on lower abdomen/body, sunghoon lifts reader, reader implied to be smaller than sunghoon

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 enhypen masterlist

my debut to enhablr...? i see clips of sunghoon and heeseung and they make me wanna get into enha 🥹 i'm sure the fandom knows that sunghoon has a sister but i didn't use her real name for this fic; it just makes me more comfortable in this way. hope you all enjoy!!

You don't usually knock on the Park’s residence house since Sunghoon would usually open it for you as per his invite, or help you sneak in through the side window. But today is a bit different since today is Serin’s dinner dance at her school, and she asked you for help with makeup and outfits. In a heartbeat, you agreed, especially since the event has been a special one for you since the day Sunghoon asked you to be his.

Sunghoon knows about you coming over to help his sister, but knowing that your visit today isn't for him puts a frown on his face. His relationship with you is still private, which is something that you both want at the current moment. But after a year of dating, he can't wait to formally introduce his once best friend to his family who is already very fond of you. 

“Thank you so much for coming!” The door opens to reveal the younger girl. “Come in!”

You chuckle at her excited nature. You know Serin has been a delightful one since a long time ago, and you're glad to be part of a wonderful event for her. A few steps into the house, you see Sunghoon by the couch, resting his chin on his arm as he pouts at you. 

“Hey,” you greet him casually, sneaking in a wink behind Serin.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes away playfully, turning around to the television as he sulks and sinks into the couch. 

“Oppa! Don't be rude!” Serin defends you. “But whatever, guess I'll have her to myself.”

If it was anyone other than his beloved sister saying those words, Sunghoon would cling to your side, sweep you off your feet and claim your lips with his. “Whatever,” Sunghoon dismisses her with a hand wave. 

Upstairs, Serin had all her makeup and dress options ready for your second opinion. It wasn't long until you chose the one you thought suited her the best, helping her change and adjusting it to fit nicely on her body. Just as so, it didn't take long until your numerous hair and makeup suggestions were chosen by her. 

“You're gonna be the prettiest girl in the room,” you blend the pink blush across her cheeks. 

“Of course, I am. You're the one giving me the makeup after all,” you chuckle at her words, adding the finishing touches and setting spray onto her face. “Don't tell Sunghoon this, but I'm going with a date.”

You gasp at the information. “Really?! That's so cute! Let me see a picture!”

Serin skips over to make sure the bedroom door is locked before sitting on the edge of her bed, patting the empty space beside her for you. The younger swipes through the many pictures in her gallery, recounting the main parts of that day spent together. 

You know what it feels like to be attracted to someone. To like someone, and ultimately, to be head over heels in love with someone. Looking through the pictures of her and her partner for the dance, you could tell that it wasn't puppy love or a short-lived crush. How'd you know? Her eyes sparkle with minimal lighting as they cuddle in the picture tells you everything her heart feels.

“Don't tell Sunghoon please,” a pout overtakes her face. “You know how protective he is, and I promise I will tell him soon.”

You squint your eyes in suspicion, humming in contemplation. The younger pleads once more, a pinky out hanging in the air, waiting for yours. In the end, you gave in, knowing well that you weren't going to not agree from the start. You understand where she's coming from since your brother is the same as well.

“Alright, go get the rest of your things ready!” You nudged your shoulder against hers and excused yourself from her room. 

As soon as the door clicks securely shut, your fingertips on the metal knob don't even get a chance to properly let go when they're replaced with warmth instead. A hand grasps the side of your waist, pulling you next door where the meaning behind another click of this door differs greatly. 

You yelp at the soft tug, a hand protecting the back of your head when your body hits the door. The room is barely lit, only the moon and the street lights shining through from the still-opened curtains beside you giving the luminance enough for you to face your blushing boyfriend. 

Sunghoon sighs deeply with how he manages to finally have alone time with you successfully without getting caught. His lips finally attach to yours, drowning out the giggling and pleasurable moaning slipping out from the both of you. Your eyelids flutter shut, brushing against his skin gently as he shudders at the way your nose nudges his as you kiss him feverishly. As the situation escalates, the hood around his head falls, giving your hand access to his beautiful locks.

The grip on the side of your body tightens only slightly as your boyfriend pulls you closer to his chest that your hands rest on. Sunghoon leaves your lips, travelling to your ears to huskily whisper, “Hi baby girl,” he kisses your ear after, kissing along your jawline and neck as you gasp at him.

“H-Hoon-” you hiss at the pressure he puts on a sensitive part of your neck, messing and tugging on his hair. “Your sister is going to be ready at any time now.”

Sunghoon grunts at the reminder of your true visit, yet still makes love to your collarbones to cherish every second with you. “Not yet…” he pleads that time will go slower. 

The hand behind your head joins the other side of your body, slithering down to the back of your thighs as Sunghoon kneels, continuing to trail his kisses to your clothed stomach. With a swift motion, he carries you by your thighs, standing up and walking towards his bed. He never spared a moment where his lips didn't touch your heated body. There was no time for your heart to calm its racing pace, the adrenaline of staying quiet hitting you both. 

Now seated on his bed with you straddling his built thighs, you take this moment to fully open your eyes, seeing the white light shine upon his red cheeks. His palm cups the apple of your cheeks, foreheads resting as you catch your breaths. 

“Can't get enough of you,” he mutters. “I just want and need you all the time…”

Sunghoon is cute when he's lovesick like this, your cheeks instantly heating more than before at his confession. You hum, “I love you, Hoon.”

“I love you much more.”

His orbs sparkle upon yours sincerely for a second until his open lips come closer to claim yours again. You're millimetres apart when the door opens unexpectedly behind you. Your body reacts first, jumping away from Sunghoon, pushing him flat onto the bed as you pull your clothes to straighten the creases of the makeout. 

Serin covers her eyes even if you both are detached, the split second burning into her memory. “I knew you guys were together, but I didn't know it was getting spicy here!”

Sunghoon’s body springs up from the mattress, “You knew yet you still came in?!”

“Wait, that's what you're worried about?!” you exclaim with wide eyes at your boyfriend. “You knew all this time?!” Questioning the grinning sister at the door.

“I know I just kind of exposed you, but don't expose me!” Serin shouts as she retreats to a safer part of the house.

“What does that mean?!” The clueless brother runs out to interrogate his sibling while you're left dumbfounded at what just happened in the last few seconds. 

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 enhypen masterlist

tags: @k-films @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet

@haneul-and-clouds @sunlightwoo @hursheys

[astracora]

Turning Point - Part 5

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability, mentions for Rafayel stories, and myths, violent imagery and arguments.

Word Count: 5456

Written: 9th January 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. Rafayel is so hard to write for a lot of reasons, but also is one of my favourite characters in any story because he's just... contains multitudes. I also feel like he's the one who struggles most with all these other people in MC's life. I also feel like he's so fixated on pain, and struggle, that he forgets kindness can be offered to him with no price. Anyway, I enjoyed working on this bit a lot even though it was hard. Enjoy! Also as a side note, the song of choice I can only partially explain, Rafayel out of all the boys makes me think of regency romance on a level I truly cannot explain. (even though he doesn't have a dancing scene... YET!!)

Now Playing: All I Want, by Kris Bowers

Masterlist AO3

<- Previous

Rafayel loves you. That is never in doubt. He finds himself bitter and aching that there is so much you have shared that only he remembers.

Sometimes it comes out in harsh words or lies. Even though he knows it is unfair to punish you, when you can't control it.

Mostly, however, he tries to enjoy moments with you. Hoping that something will spark, and you will look at him and see long years of history.

Remember his longing and his love in all its forms.

Remember all the facets that make him up. Perhaps it's cowardice to want your memories to fill in the blanks that he is too scared to tell you. Blood on his hands, heart offered up. He does not want to see your expression change. For you to fear or hate who he is… who he can become.

He thinks about beautiful blue seas, and the breath stolen underwater.

When he finds himself thinking of the beach he waited at, every year, he pushes himself into his work.

Now, he spends most of his days at your side. In case you need him. He watches closely, because he's used to you hiding your struggle from him. When you're sick, you've hidden it, he's reminded you that you're not a superhero. As much as you put on a brave front for every kid that sees your hunter reels.

Rafayel has watched this version of you for a long time, before he finally met you again. Properly.

He has seen so many renditions of you, no matter who you have been… he has loved you. He has and will love you for eternity and beyond, even if it might be easier not to.

Rafayel has finished most of his work for his exhibit, as he stares at the final piece that is missing something that he cannot find.

Sun blends with sea, as the tides recede. As silver bones are left behind to bleach.

He stares and stares and nothing comes. Just that vague, irritating feeling of incompletion.

"You're going to burn a hole in it, fish."

"Sylus, leave the man alone, he's actually working."

Rafayel huffs… and therein lies his other problem. Your consortium of bizarre attachments. If he were less observant, he could pretend they see you as a friend only.

But he is a man who can kill another, who can plan his revenge, who can hide in plain sight. Who is capable of sneaking up even on the N109 Zone Leader.

So he can see and he can't ignore. He also can't ignore that they comfort you as well.

You have teased him for being childish, and he thinks the irritating feeling in his gut, that demands he steal all of your time, that you are his bonded partner, confirms such a claim. He is not possessive of a lot… your heart is his.

He tries to ignore the doctor and the crow. Staring straight ahead, hoping that answers will come to him, but he cannot. He can feel their presence and it is on the edge of his consciousness. Poking at it.

Like he is a crab on the beach and a child wants to watch his pincers clasp.

"Maybe you should take a walk, get some fresh air."

"Do you want the fish to suffocate, Doctor?"

"Truly, you are incapable of not prodding at others aren't you?"

He huffs this time, turning his face to look at the two. Zayne is typing on his laptop, barely looking up to converse, while Sylus is on his tablet, glasses on the end of his nose.

The two look eerily similar like this.

Rafayel tries not to compare the doctor to the crow, it's unflattering. At least the doctor can heal your wounds.

When he speaks though, his irritation comes out in the snippy tone he takes, "Your opinions are noted, dumb crow. Then swiftly discarded."

The man does that irritating little laugh he does, that is more a puff of air than a real laugh. Like it's too much effort to feel anything, and Rafayel wants to pluck his feathers.

How you can tolerate him, he'll never know.

At least the hunter is quiet…

Still, he wants to get out of here, they make it harder for him to think, and he can't make progress like this. So he stands, shrugging at them and heads towards the door, as he goes to make through he almost collides with you and Xavier returning from the hospital. He isn't surprised when you move out the way just in time, you're a hunter and your training has made you capable. Still as he greets you, you hesitate, before tugging at his shirt before he can leave.

He looks down, your hand holding onto the fabric, not tough enough to tear, but enough to halt his movements.

"Are you alright, Raffy?" 

It shouldn't surprise him that you notice the tick in his jaw, or the stress under his skin. It isn't the first time, and you've shown many times to have been able to pick out when his mood has dropped. You're observant as part of being a hunter, you're careful, you pay attention. You're smart.

You care.

About him, about his mood… about his life. His irritation settles, soothes at the edges, and his smile is easier, "I need some fresh air. Want to come with?"

You hesitate and he watches the fear enter your eyes. Wavering. You walk between the hospital and the apartment when you don't take Zayne's car, but that's the extent of your journeys. He wants to pull you by the hand… make you see the sea with him.

"Where are you going?"

"Whitesands."

It's far enough removed, very few people visit it, and he will get a walk somewhere familiar. Perhaps it's familiar enough for you to follow him.

He extends his hand, carefully, trying to keep the need from bubbling to the surface. If he could take you away far from here, he would. Take you to everything he's ever seen, so he can see it with new eyes. Yours.

Your hand stretches out, and your fingers tremble, before you finally take his, "Alright, if it's quiet." Your request is one he'll happily grant. Both of you alone, he can't think of a better way to spend his time.

The walk is kind to him, as they head towards Whitesand Bay, he gets to keep your hand in his, listen to the song of the world, and watch as your steps become lighter. You stop staring down at your arm and checking around you, eventually focusing on the sky and him.

As feet crunch on white sand, and approach the edge of tides. You let go of his hand to walk a little further out, and he watches. As you crouch, as you reach fingers to the water.

Rafayel paints everything he thinks is beautiful, tragic, or brings pain to his soul. You hurt him too, in ways he aches for. Like he is placing his hand in a burning flame, and holding it there, because the longer he holds it, the closer he gets to what he craves.

Like there is an answer there, waiting over the edge of agony. If he tumbles after it, he'll find what eludes him.

There's a feeling in him that wants to drown you with him. He could swim out, with you in his arms, and pull you under. On the edge of the question of life, before he gives you the means to breathe alongside him. He's warned you of the nature of sirens, and you've looked him in the eye and told him you don't fear him.

You should, though, he knows. You should fear the ocean's grasp as well as his own, because he wants your heart for his.

As you turn your eyes back to him, soft smile tugging the scar on your face, his heart thunders and then stills. Flames and agony. The need to touch and hold it in his hand… Lit against the contours of your face, and the glimmer in your eyes.

His inspiration is always closer than he thinks.

—-----

Rafayel dislikes your companions.

The prince gets to spend all of his time with you, working together, protecting each other. Where Rafayel had to convince you to be his bodyguard, just for a fraction of that time.

The doctor is who you trust with your injuries and your wounds, he is who you go to when something hurts. You hid your sickness from Rafayel before now, so he didn't doubt your capabilities.

The crow… the crow gets under his scales. Like a tick. Biting and bleeding and ruining his skin. Yet you trust him, a man who built all his life on violence. Who has blood on his hands. Who is open about his sins… While he cannot tell you for fear of the look in your eye changing.

It is safe to say the crow is his least favourite. The one who grinds at him most, who plucks and pulls. Like a hook in his upper lip. He dreams of drowning the man… he would if the look in your eyes didn't stop him.

So he hates them, he thinks. The anger and irritation and the childish petulance. He wants your attention and he fights for it, he wants you to trust him most. It took too long to gain entrance into your home, reminding himself that time builds strong bonds. That he should be patient. He did not want to scare you, to startle you. Like you are a small fish and he is a bigger… hungrier beast.

There is no peace when they are around, and normally pain brings him inspiration, an answer on the end of a paintbrush. A vision in the agony.

Whatever feeling they inspire is not pain, and it brings him no art to create, no feelings to share in blues and greens. Nothing to show for it.

He has thankfully, however, finished his final piece. So there is a relief in him, even as the crow looks down at him, eyebrow raised.

Rafayel ignores the man, looking straight ahead, signing his work. Paintbrush steady. Steadier than the racing heart in his chest.

He will not lose a game of chicken with an overgrown bird.

So when the crow turns to walk away, he is relieved, and so smug, until he hears a crunch. Looking over quickly, and staring down at the floor.

"Ah, what a shame."

One of Rafayel's paintbrushes snapped in half by the stupid crow's foot.

He levels a glare at the man, "Are stupid crows clumsy too?"

"Are all fish messy? Your things have spread across the apartment."

"I'm working!"

"Quite diligently I see, despite galavanting off to the beach. Inspiration was it?"

The look on the crow's face is too level. It's too calm. He does not respond to the rise of Rafayel's voice. He does not flinch at the glare in his eyes. He does not move, from where his foot is still on his brush.

It is a feeling of irritation that burns and scorches where it stands.

He has to tolerate and bite his tongue. He has to think and be careful. He has to share, where he does not want to share.

You are his heart, why does he have to look at the eyesore in his vision, and think about his hands on you too.

His anger bubbles and froths and overflows. A pot that has been left, and forgotten. You will forget him too, in favour of a crow! A stupid. Foolish. Irritating crow.

He stands and presses forwards, fangs bared and sharp. He is a predator of the seas. This man is nothing. He is a god of the tides. This man is a petty criminal.

Rafayel knows you better, he has seen more incarnations than this man can even comprehend, and he dares to play at favour?

"If you wish to be drowned, crow, I am happy to oblige."

Eyebrow quirks at him, a look in his eyes that Rafayel can't make out, but it glitters and twinkles, "I'd love to see you try, fish, but I'm afraid you couldn't hope to kill me."

"I am more than willing to try."

"Then you'll simply be hurting your 'beloved bride', wouldn't you?"

He snarls, a low noise in the back of his throat, hand reaching out to grab at the man's throat. To snap it, bite through it, to cut his voice permanently, he isn't sure. It will hurt, and he will deserve it. For calling you what he cannot. Too many memories that you cannot hold in your heart.

The crow steps forwards, as if daring him to try. To wrap his hands around his throat and twist. To slice his throat open with a dagger. To see. To show him if it's true.

"Raffy?" Your call comes from the side, stumbling in, voice wary.

His hand hovers, he debates. Thinks for a moment. Stares at the crow's adam apple as the man swallows his laughter down. The dare is there, waiting for him to take… and they both know he won't.

So he rips his hand back, offers you the kind of smile that shakes at the foundations, "Hey cutie, I was just going out for the exhibit."

You open your mouth to speak, and he shakes his head, grabbing his canvas. Lifting it far too quickly to be safe, and turns on a heel, "I'll see you later."

The speed he leaves the apartment leaves the door frame shaking behind him. Heading out, running from the place. From the crow's dare, from the wary look in your eyes.

From the inadequacy… the guilt… the irritation. The pain.

What lurks over the abyss could just be nothingness. A world where you don't want him, or need him. Where without your memories you do not look at him, hear him call you his beloved bride, and love him as you once did. Where his bond with you is not enough, and he simply has to experience the heart that cannot beat for anyone but you.

That he has lied and hidden and kept from you for too long, that a criminal with blood on his hands who does not hide… claims your heart for his.

His heart…

There is pain behind his art and in his soul. A reminder that he cannot always be with you in every life, and he prays this is not one of them. An alter of suffering that he would cut his chest open at, if you would always look at him.

—--

You cannot stop thinking about the look on Rafayel's face.The agony in his eyes as he'd darted from the room. You'd asked Sylus who had shrugged, "I broke his paintbrush." But not explained further.

You'd seen Rafayel break his own paintbrushes in his studio, stepping on them, falling over them. Resulting in a trip to the hospital because of how messy things were.

You help Sylus clean up some of the mess, containing it in a corner with the rest of Raffy's things, hoping it would alleviate some of the feeling you can't seem to shake in the air. A stagnation. It feels like decay, and you can't open enough windows to air it out.

If Sylus decides not to share, he won't. You've known him long enough, pried at his secrets enough, that you don't waste the strength anymore. He shares what he wants, when he wants to.

So you abandon the effort and go about your day. It drags. Waiting for time to pass, working through your exercises, before you have to leave.

As the time approaches, the clock hand moving, it begins to click harder. The sound impending.

You think about other exhibits, the amount of people, the noise…

It cuts through the excitement, the peace of the wait, the boredom.

You pause as you're getting ready, staring at the prosthetic arm flexing in front of you. The movement of metal fingers, the clear indication of your injury… your failure.

You're going to see Rafayel. A man who people will be looking at. Commending.

Taking photos of.

Do you really want to be stood next to him like this? To draw attention to yourself and him?

An icy chill runs up your spine, and you stop. You have to get these clothes off. You have to cancel. You can't go.

You can't be there.

You feel the chain on your ankle, it tugs and it pulls, and it drags you back. The beast that settled, has woken up. It is hungry and it is angry, and it is laughing at you for trying.

A mistake, this was a mistake. You made a promise to someone you care about, and now you're going to hurt him. Either way, you're going to hurt him. Make him look stupid. Make him hate you.

You're going to break this fragile peace. Bring that agonised look into his eyes again.

Take from a man who gives you so much. Love, affection, kindness, warmth, acceptance, joy.

You are ripping all those things from his hands, and returning nothing.

"Kitten?" You stumble, when the voice startles you out of your thoughts. Falling back onto the bed, looking up as Sylus enters, not bothering to wait for an answer. Ever since your mission had gone wrong, he has been far less hesitant. If he could ever be said to be hesitant.

When he sees you sitting, tears in your eyes, he approaches you, kneels in front of you. Hands on your knees. Soothing your skin. His skin is so warm, it's like a brand. You almost pull away. On fire, itching, hurting. He notices your flinch and pulls his hands away. The relief of the cool is intense, and you choke on the feeling.

You're the mistake. Too fragile to be touched. Too useless to be helpful. Too much work.

He takes in your rumbled clothing. The shirt half pulled off, the jacket thrown away from you, the trousers unclasped. You are shivering, and shaking, and while you can see his hands twitching. Yearning, needing to soothe, he knows he can't. So he tries to speak, hesitant now, "Don't you like them?" You think about the time he spent, finding things with Rafayel that are easier to wear. Clasps that can be done easier with one hand, or buttons bigger for your unsteady metal fingers.

Things that require the least amount of struggle. If he could not find them, he had them made.

The two of them, you think as you try to fight through the fog, are dangerous.

You shake your head numbly. "I can't go."

It doesn't require much more from you, even without his eye, Sylus reads people. He reads you. He's said sometimes he cannot understand the workings of your mind, but he improves everyday. It is terrifying to be seen by him. Terrifying for him to look under the rough exterior, to the rougher interior.

You wait for the moment that he realises you're not worth it.

"You'll be with us." He starts, and you look down at where his hand twitches towards you, then back. "You won't be alone."

You haven't been alone, you think. In all the time you've spent with this. This weight, first on your back, then on your ankle. They have come to find you. Looking.

Just like Caleb did.

Is it enough? This could be that wakeup call.

"Rafayel wants you there, he's excited to see you." It is odd. It is hearing Sylus say 'Rafayel' and not 'fish', that jolts you back. Just like the moment you saw them in your kitchen, arguing. Just like when you saw them all walk through that door when the blanket was your only defence.

It is a realisation of how odd this is. How bizarre they are.

It almost makes you hiccup a laugh. The idea of Sylus speaking for Rafayel. You think about how warm he is to you, how he takes your hand easily.

I will always want to look at you.

"What if it's too much work?" You finally manage, the agony lightening so you can speak, no longer tearing at you. Though you can feel the creature on your ankle. Tugging. Like a dog with a chew toy.

"The important things are worth it."

Important.

Learning to use your prosthetic is hard. Learning to trust is hard.

It was with Caleb, it is with all of them. It is a constant struggle. A constant weight. To try.

They catch you, with a security net. Give you space to breathe, so you can stand back up again.

You think about what you want, think about what will make you happy… what is worth living for.

It is the reason to keep getting up.

You want to see Rafayel's work, you want to see the people you care about. You want to keep your promise to a man who values you. A hesitant shaky hand takes Sylus' where it hovers. The way you can watch him heave a sigh, the tension in him easing, as he clasps yours between both of his. Tight, but not suffocating. He grounds you, and it doesn't burn.

"What do you think, Kitten? Do you want to try?"

Sylus has never belittled you for tears, or made you feel your emotions are a mistake. When you are drowning, he offers a hand. When you anger and hurt, he is there, either to join you in your hurt, or to help appease it.

He offers you a choice, and he means it. If you truly do not want to, you know he will accept it. If you want to, he will help.

"I want to try."

He nods, pulling you up with him, to stand, straight into his chest. So that you can feel his uneven heart beating against you. "Then let's get you ready."

—-----

He should never have left so early. He should have stayed with you.

Rafayel left the apartment in frustration and anger and now he stares at his phone, hoping to see your name pop up.

It is an agitating feeling. To be stood on the edge of the cliff and not know if there's water below.

He has forced himself to listen to Thomas, to go through the motions, to ensure his exhibit is set up correctly. He has sat under too bright lights, feeling himself drying up, as he waits. As the clock hand moves, as he thinks, and he struggles.

If he keeps running, will you stop chasing him?

As his exhibit starts, he checks again, only to see a message from the doctor, 'Good luck today'. He doesn't respond. He stares at it. It's unsettling. He doesn't want the doctor to wish him good luck. He doesn't want his comfort.

He doesn't need it.

Even when his agitation settles a moment, and he hides it from Thomas who asks him why he's smiling. He's not.

That doesn't mean anything.

He does not wave at Xavier as he walks through the door, milling around the paintings quietly. Avoiding the bigger crowds. He tries not to think about the fact that he's come to see.

It doesn't matter.

As time passes, Rafayel fidgets.

Stares at the door.

Fidgets.

Stares at the door.

He walks around the room, passes Xavier, who hands him water quietly, then walks off. He stares down at it, but he's parched, the crowds are tiring him out, the people are talking like they understand him, and he just wants to be somewhere else. So he downs it, and lets the relief of the chill settle in his throat.

He talks absently to people he doesn't really care to listen to. Thomas gives him a talk about doing his duties.

Irritation settles in his stomach. He doesn't care about his duties. He cares about seeing you.

He checks his phone, and is relieved, though irritated, when he gets a message from the crow, 'We're on our way'. He sends back a thumbs up, though it is through a shaky hand. Excitement makes it unsteady.

It is when he is not staring at the door, when he hears your voice behind him. "Raffy?" Pulling away from where he is avoiding Thomas' lectures, he takes you in. Your hand is grasped in the crow's, eyes darting around the room. You're wearing your prosthetic, a dark blue jacket over your shoulders, painted with green and blue flowers. Flared trousers and a light shirt. He absently thinks that the crow's style isn't too ridiculous, if it means you visit his exhibits like this. Like one of the flowers in a garden he wants to take you.

"Cutie!" It is relief and it is the weight of hundreds of years that shed. He waited, he waited, and you came. He takes your hand away from the crow, not without giving a smug little smile, which receives him a smirk, and kisses the back of it. "You made it."

He watches your eyes glisten, he can feel the heat off your cheeks. Not all embarrassment, he knows some of it is stress, but it is enough. "You don't have to stay long." He promises, it doesn't matter how long you stay. You came. You came, no matter what.

You came, and he knows it wasn't easy.

The laugh you release, it trembles, like your hand, but it is accompanied by the small smile he is learning to draw with his eyes closed. "Show me your work?"

"I'll go find the prince, call me if you need me." The crow offers, he leans, kissing your temple, before he leaves. You blink after him a bit, touching where he kissed with your hand, pulling it from Rafayel's grasp, and then look at him. He glares after the man, but doesn't offer much of a response.

"Come on then cutie, you're mine." He doesn't look as he grabs your hand, and he knows he is grinning at you. Pulling you forwards with him, darting to where his art calls for you.

He doesn't notice the chill in your hand, until he eases his fingers over it. Feeling grooves and edges. He almost releases when he realises he has grabbed your prosthetic, you are staring down at it with him.

Rafayel looks at you, tries to read the look in your eyes. It is soft, and awed and gentle. So he raises it to his lips, kissing the wrist. You tremble, blinking, before tightening your grip just a little.

It is the soft, warm look in your eyes, as you tug him forward a little bit more, a laugh bubbling out of you. "Come on Raffy."

He takes you around all of his paintings, and just watches you.

You don't offer him opinions or thoughts often, he has learned if he gives you space to look, you can tell him how you feel. What his art brings out in you. If he looks closely at your face, he can watch it. Trembling in your eyes.

As you flit amongst paintings, like a butterfly amongst flowers, tugging him along with you. He follows willingly.

There are moments when you stop, and your hand twitches out. Like you are holding back the urge to run your fingers over the paint. Tracing shapes, touching at his heart directly.

He wants to tell you that you can do as you please. That you are the one who he wants to understand him most. That his art, and his soul are yours to do with as you like. That you could tear images from his canvas, and he would still paint more for you.

Finally you find yourself in front of his struggle. Bleached bones on the beach, tides easing out. Leaving scars behind.

At the edges of the horizon, the sun rises again. Painting the once dreary sky in a rainbow.

You are the sunrise that greets him, that reminds him that time moves forwards. That there is something to see after the night.

That tomorrow has a chance for better than today.

You bloom like a flower before his eyes, a sight he could never have seen beneath the waves. A reminder of why he came to visit the surface every year. A reminder of all the wonders of land that he idolised as a child.

"Beautiful." Is exhaled, and he is unsure if it was you or him. The twinkling in your eyes, perhaps it was both.

Eventually he feels the strain in your countenance, the exhaustion, so he sneaks with you out of the exhibit. Escaping into gardens that are quiet, and closed to others. A locked gate has never kept him out of anywhere, however.

It is the quiet that settles you, and he settles alongside you. No longer wearing a mask he does not want for people who come to stare at his work. He pulls you amongst flowers, fields of lilies, and whispers of petals.

Secluded and alone. The way he feels best with you.

Lying down in the grass, to look up at the sky, stars twinkling.

It is with the view of the stars that you speak, voice tinged in a guilt he wishes to chase away, "I almost didn't come. I'm sorry Raffy."

His eyes turn to you, to read the draw of your lips, the pain in your eyes, the way you tighten your grip on his hand. Cool metal against skin that reacts to you more than any other. Sensitive, aware.

Your touch will always alight his senses.

He knows the hesitation, he thinks about the way you wavered on the edge, hand extended to you as you feared to take it. He knows that you are adjusting. He regrets asking you to promise, to put that weight on your shoulders.

He is relieved you came. To see him, to stare at the workings of his heart, and yearn to trace it with fingers.

His patience and his need fight often. His awareness of pushing, his desperation. It is hard to balance.

"What changed your mind?"

You edge a little closer on the grass, so that the heat of him spreads over the sensors of your prosthetic. Alongside the gentle stroking of his thumb over your hand. "Sy told me you wanted me to be here… and I wanted to be here for you."

Rafayel's first instinct is the kind of reaction he's seen cats get to water. Hissing and jumping up. Shaking himself furiously.

There is great dissatisfaction at comparing himself to the demons.

There is greater dissatisfaction at the crow, helping him. In any way.

It is a feeling of being pulled back by the scruff of his neck, away from the abyss he seeks out. The fall into the ocean.

The agony on the edge of the conscious.

You poke his cheek with your other hand, then brush hair back and his heart settles its seething. "I'm glad."

"Glad?"

"That they care for you." It is whispered, and it is tentative, and he sees the worry in your eyes.

The fear at his arguments before. The anxiety that you are causing distress.

Forcing them. Making them clash in enclosed spaces. Like caged beasts.

It is the wary voice that calls out to him, tries to ask the question about the pain in him, the voices and the agony ripping and pulling and hurting. The pain that grants him no inspiration.

They care.

A message sent to wish him luck. A quiet presence bringing him water when he dries. A fool giving you the push to move forwards to lead your feet to him.

You have not stopped looking for him and at him, and he has been holding you like a toy he does not wish to share…

It is a feeling he isn't ready to digest or question, not when the stars are bright and you are safe next to him. It is one he will think about in days to come, as he watches the doctor help him clean. As he is offered a pillow the prince favours in order to sleep better.

When the crow argues with him, but gives him food that satisfies a hunger he forgets to appease for himself.

When you do not look at him any less. That he has not lost anything, he is not lesser.

It is a feeling for later.

To help paint canvas he wants to share one day, though pain is absent, and something else glimmers in the sea.

[thetomorrowshow]

love is such a drag

Chapter one: Scar's first encounter with the angel (and Grian gets to eat ice cream)

welcome to my scariana griande drag college au. this will be quite the ride from start to finish.

~

Scar spots her from across the bar.

It would be hard not to notice her, honestly. Despite the dim, almost cloudy lighting of the room, she glows, as if a heavenly spotlight is set right on her to make it clear that she just descended from heaven.

Scar sneaks glances at her over the fun green umbrella in his drink. She's sitting by herself—an absolute crime, if you ask Scar—, swishing around the little black straw in her drink. Her dark blond hair falls in gorgeous ringlets down around her shoulders, outlining her face the way a pure golden frame would surround only the most beautiful of paintings.

Her nose is small, turned up just a little bit in a peak, the bridge delicate and sparkling with a small amount of angel dust that must be left over from the aforementioned descent. Her eyes are almost comically doe-like, large and accentuated with soft pink eye shadow and long eyelashes. Scar can't quite tell what color her eyes are from this distance (brown, maybe? Black?), but he knows that whatever color they are, they are absolutely perfect.

Her lips are pink to match her eye shadow, glittery, small and pursed, as if her drink isn't near good enough to pass those delicately soft lips.

Scar hasn't even met the woman, but he wants to kiss those lips. He wants some of that angel dust to find its way onto his own lips.

Her cheeks are rosy and full, and her round chin rests on her palm as she casts a bored look around the bar.

Scar downs the last bit of his drink for courage.

He sticks the umbrella in his shirt pocket for good luck.

Then he picks up his cane and saunters over, frantically sorting through every pick-up line in his repertoire—though none of them seem to match the beauty of God's creation before him.

She looks up at him as he approaches, peering at him from under those long lashes, and now he can tell—

Her eyes are grey, but not grey like clouds, or the sea, or the bartop that her arm rests on. Her eyes are grey like the comforter on his mom's bed, like the bricks around the fireplace back in his grandpa's old house, like the silver colored pencil he'd taken all his notes in for a semester to try and prove to Cub that it worked just as well as a normal pencil (it hadn't).

Her eyes are grey like the backdrop of Scar's dreams, the firmament that rests between consciousness and all else.

And then, of course, he's right there.

And she's waiting.

There isn't a single smooth pick-up line in his brain, which is offensive if Scar does say so himself, because he always has words. He could wax poetic about a frying pan for an hour just to annoy someone, but now that his skills are put to the test he can't hold on to his wits long enough to use them.

Goodness gracious, but she's beautiful.

She's wearing something pink and small, a cut-off that reveals a slender torso and adorable bellybutton, the sleeves long and flowy but off the shoulders. Her skirt is a lighter shade of pink, cutting off just above her knees, and it looks like just the kind of skirt that she could spin in and it would twirl along perfectly with her, the kind that sort of looks like a cupcake wrapper.

Scar's always wanted to wear that kind of skirt.

How long has he been staring at her?

"Hi," he manages, readjusting his sweaty grip on his cane. "Um. Come here often?"

She rolls her eyes.

It's breathtaking.

"Sorry, worst line in the book and all that," Scar excuses himself. "Can I order you another drink, then?"

She glances at the half-full drink she's been slowly working her way through. "I'm good, thanks," she says, and Scar nearly swoons.

The angel talked to him!

And her voice! Fluttery, but something deeper underneath! Textured like a symphonic piece of music, as soft as the faux fur carpets in the back of department stores!

She's perfect.

"I'll just cut straight to the point," Scar says, trying valiantly to not feel light-headed. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. May I take you out on a date?"

She blinks.

"You don't even know me," she says, leaning back down to take a dainty little sip out of the straw.

"No, but I want to," Scar reasons. "Can I get you anything? Some chips? A little umbrella?"

"The umbrellas come with the cocktails," she scoffs. She flicks her hair over her shoulder and Scar definitely doesn't almost fall over. "I'm not in the mood for a cocktail."

Scar leans forward. "You can ask for an umbrella with any drink," he whispers, winking conspiratorially. "I always do."

"What is it you really want?" she says, sounding almost tired, and Scar puts his hand to his heart.

"I just want to take you out on a date, I swear, nothing else," he says. "Scout's honor."

"Scout's honor?"

"Troupe 2906," Scar says, lying through his teeth. He was never a scout. Well, he did Cub Scouts, but he never made it to Boy Scouts. And he definitely didn't have a troupe. "Once a scout, always a scout."

Almost reluctantly, she giggles (a sound like windchimes softly jangling), then pulls her phone out of the tiny white purse at her side. "All right, fine. What's your name?"

"Scar," he tells her, pulling out his own phone. He unlocks it with a quick swipe, then pulls up a new contact card and trades his phone for the angel's.

"Your phone looks like it got ran over," she observes, picking at the tape on the side.

"If you pull that tape off, it goes dead."

She stops picking at it.

Scar types in his number slowly with one finger, leaning against the bar as casually as he can manage. He's been standing for a minute too long, but he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable by sitting down.

When he's finished, he passes the phone back to her, receiving his own in return.

"I'll text you," he promises.

She laughs again, nods. "Okay."

The way she dismisses him—

The conversation is clearly over, based on the way she turns back to her drink, her lips once again pursed but this time turned up at the corners.

Scar hurries out as fast as his body will allow him, which isn't very fast even on the best days.

Once he's outside, out of view of her, he checks his phone.

The contact is there, ten exquisite digits.

And her name.

Ariana.

-

"Cub, do you mind if I have someone over? I need to opine."

Cub looks up from his laptop, then flinches away when Scar turns on the lights.

"Scar, do you know what time it is?" he gripes, putting a pillow over his face.

"It's not even midnight, mister, so don't pretend like this is late. You're always up at all hours of the morning, anyway."

"Why can't you opine to me?" Cub sighs.

"You don't opine back! I need someone who will wallow on the floor with me."

Scar can practically hear Cub raise an eyebrow. "Ren?"

Scar grins. "Ren. He basically isn't even a guest, since he lives right above us. And it would only be for an hour at most!"

"Fine, fine," grumbles Cub, sitting up and setting his pillow to the side. "Call him. But I have a quiz tomorrow, so this better be quick."

Ren's over within five minutes, a two-liter of diet pepsi in one hand and a bag of candy in the other.

"Leftover Christmas candy, my dude," Ren says, tossing it on the floor. "You said you need to opine?"

Scar carefully lowers himself to sit on the floor, then flops down onto his back, his arms splayed out dramatically.

"Why are we doing this in my room?" groans Cub.

"I've seen an angel," Scar declares, and his heart flutters just the slightest bit.

"Ugh."

"Ooh!" Ren says, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Tell me more."

"I was at the bar in Aquetown, right?" Scar starts, adjusting his arms to look more dramatic, one thrown over his forehead. "The good one. The quiet one."

"Right," nods Ren. "I know it well."

"And there she was," Scar says reverently. "The angel."

"What was her name? What happened? What did she—"

"Her name is Ariana," Scar breathes, the name as sweet on his lips as he knows her kiss would be. "She's perfect."

"Did you get her number?" Cub asks boredly.

Scar scoffs. "Of course I got her number! We're going on a date."

"Oooo!" Ren teases, slapping his shoulder. "My man has a date with a pretty girl!"

"She isn't just a girl," Scar says dreamily. "She's an angel. You should've seen her, Ren! If God himself turned up and told me that there had been a mistake, that she was supposed to be in heaven, I wouldn't have even blinked! She—"

"Yeah, she's a beautiful angel, we get it," interrupts Cub. "Can you do this in the living room?"

"What color are her eyes?" Ren asks.

"Grey . . . I've never met anyone with grey eyes. Not like those."

"What did she say? Is she into you?" Ren shakes his head. "What am I saying? Of course she's into you! Who wouldn't be?"

Scar. . . .

Scar hadn't even thought about that.

He'd just been so preoccupied with getting a date with such a perfect woman, he hadn't even thought about whether or not she might want one with him.

What if she secretly hates him?

What if she just told him yes to get him to go away?

"No, it's okay," Ren says quickly, patting his arm. "Don't cry! She's totally into you, dude! Don't even worry about it!"

"What if she isn't?" Scar asks, the hand thrown over his head moving to tug at his hair. "What if I was bothering her? What if she gave me a fake number?"

"No, dude, it's not—"

"Scar," Cub says, kneeling down on the floor beside him, "look at me."

There are already tears welling up in Scar's eyes when he looks up, straight into Cub's dark, unyielding eyes.

"Any woman would be lucky to have you," he says seriously. "If she was lying, that's her loss. Got it?"

Reluctantly, Scar nods, wiping away a tear with the heel of his palm.

Cub claps him on the shoulder. "Now get out of my room."

-

"Mumbo! Mumbo, you're never gonna guess—"

"In here!" Mumbo calls from their shared bedroom.

Grian shuts the front door and locks the deadbolt, then dashes down the short hall—past Pearl's empty bedroom—until he arrives at his own room. He shuts and locks that door behind himself as well, then leans against it, hands splayed on the old poorly-painted wood.

"Mumbo," he breathes. "Mumbo, it happened."

Mumbo is lying on his stomach on the floor, sleep shirt riding just a bit up his back from clear readjustments of position. He pushes his laptop a bit away, shuts whatever textbook he'd been studying, and rubs his eyes.

"You look cute," Mumbo says when he's done rubbing his eyes, blinking blearily at Grian. "Is that a new skirt?"

Grian stands up straight for a moment, twirls it back and forth. "Yeah, it's one of my new favorites, I think. Do you like it?"

"Looks great," says Mumbo. "Good show tonight?"

"It was fine, but that doesn't matter!" Grian falls back against the door again, letting himself slide all the way to the floor. "Mumbo, it finally happened. A man asked me out."

"No way!" Mumbo cheers, sitting up. "Like, legitimately? He thought—"

"He thought I was a girl and he asked me out!" Grian says. "This is the best day of my life. Nothing can top this."

"After—wait, after the performance? Or before? Because you think he'd know, after the performance, that it was drag, but maybe—"

"Oh, no, no, no," Grian waves him off. "This was at a different bar. I stopped by that one in Aquetown—you know, the dead one?—just on my way back, to try and get a decent drink before heading home. And he just came over to me—Mumbo, he called me the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen."

"Dude!" Mumbo waves his arms around like Kermit the Frog. "I think—I think we need to celebrate! Break out the ice cream, dude, because it's time to throw a party!"

Grian just breathes slowly, chest lifting and falling dramatically. He feels just like a girl in the movies after kissing her date goodbye, only better. More giddy, if that’s possible.

It's getting late, though. He should probably slip out of his heels, take out his hair extensions, wipe off his make-up, take off his boobs, change into pajamas. . . .

Or he could go eat ice cream in their tiny kitchen with Mumbo and animatedly recount every moment of the night.

Which is how Grian finds himself eating ice cream in their tiny kitchen with Mumbo, animatedly recounting every moment of the night.

"He has a cane," Grian remembers suddenly, halfway through telling Mumbo exactly what he'd said for the third time. "It was one of those old-fashioned ones. With the golden handle?"

"Okay, so he's, like, the rich heir of a mansion," Mumbo nods. "You could do a lot worse. Unless he was old—was he old?"

Grian shrugs. "I don't think so. He looked pretty young—he had a scar across his cheek, actually, kind of like—like this—"

He traces along his own cheek, starting from his jawbone, curving up a bit almost to his nose.

Mumbo frowns. "A scar? I think—"

The front door of the apartment opens, and in trudges Pearl, kicking off her muddy boots.

"Pearl!" Grian says excitedly, holding out his scraped-up plastic bowl, a couple of bites of melting ice cream still left. "We're having ice cream to celebrate!"

Pearl drops her blue backpack on the floor of the living room (right beside the front door, the dead carpet there dividing it from the tiled entrance space that leads into the kitchen). She looks first to Grian, then Mumbo, then the carton of vanilla ice cream on the kitchen counter.

"Sounds like a party!" she says, sticking her hands in her hoodie pockets. "You both look nice!"

"Oh! Um, thanks!" Mumbo says, while Grian does a little spin, his skirt lifting in the air (not that Pearl can see, standing on the other side of the counter as she is).

"A man asked me out," Grian tells her. "While he thought I was a woman!"

"Well, of course he did! You make a very pretty girl, Grian."

"Yeah, but you have to say that. You're my sister. He called me the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen."

"Awww," Pearl coos. She comes around the counter, pulls a chipped bowl out of the dishwasher (used to dry dishes, not wash them) along with a spoon, which she uses to load some ice cream into the bowl before sticking a spoonful in her mouth.

"What was his name?" she asks around the ice cream, words muffled.

Grian frowns. "I don't remember. He didn't write it in the contact. That isn't important, though—he asked me out!"

"Are you going to go?"

Grian freezes.

Is he going to. . . ?

"Oh no," he says, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. "I—I didn't even think about that."

"Think about what?" Mumbo asks, scraping his spoon along the side of his bowl.

"I don't want to go on a date," Grian says. Oh, this is dreadful! "I just liked the attention! What do I do, Mumbo? I gave him my number and everything!"

Pearl scoffs. "You gave him your number? You're basically required to go on a date with him. If you give a man your real number, it means you're interested."

"Did you tell him you'd go on a date with him?"

Grian cringes. ". . . Maybe?"

"Grian!"

"I can't help it!" Grian defends. "I love flirting, you know that!"

Mumbo covers his face, bowl abandoned on the counter.

"Grian," Pearl bemoans.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . . ."

"Well, we'd better hope he's a creep!" Mumbo says loudly, face still buried in his hands. "Because then you don't have to feel bad about ditching the date!"

"Was he nice?" asks Pearl.

Grian shrugs helplessly. "I guess? He tried to give me a drink umbrella."

"Oh. So, very drunk."

"No, I think he just wanted me to have one."

"Goodness, Grian. You've got yourself in a bit of a situation," Mumbo says, finally emerging from his hands. He looks into his bowl, frowns at the lack of ice cream.

"Maybe he'll forget about it?" Grian suggests, but his heart isn't really in it.

He doesn't have much hope. Not with the way the man had talked to him. No, he's probably just set himself up for a month of progressively creepier and more disgusting texts until he blocks the man and files a 'do not contact' directive with the school.

Assuming this man is a student.

What if he's, like, an old man? 

Like, thirty?

Okay. This is too much.

Hopefully, he just doesn't text. Then Grian won't have to worry about it. Which won't happen, but he can dream.

"We can talk more about it tomorrow, all right?" Mumbo says, tossing his bowl in the sink. "It's getting late. And G, you should probably put your, er, appendages away."

"My bosom?" Grian says, raising an eyebrow.

"His tittie-tatties?" Pearl suggests.

"My breastily breasting boobs?"

"His badonka donk—"

"Please just get them off the counter."

[rainbowboy33]

Cheers... Ohhh... And good morning to you too son... Enjoy your coffee before the greatest joy you will get as soon as you have finished your coffee, boy... I can't hardly wait for you to plug you fucktool deep inside of my daddycunt... I am ready for you to paint the walls of my fucktunnel... 🍆👉👌💦💦💦👅

Good Morning, Y'all!

Cheers...