#I have paced around the room so many times over them. I have cried so many times over them. I'm barely even started with this

[septembercalls]

“ i won’t stop following you ”

——————————————————————————————————————————

still here, fucking yourself over for fushiguro? seriously.. get a grip of yourself that man can barely keep a job! it don’t matter if he got good dick.

toji x fem reader (age-gap)

Why were you even attracted to Mr. Fushiguro? Maybe it was the maturity difference. Maybe it was that he was easily the cockiest man you’d ever met—ego so big it suffocated every room he walked into. But around him, you felt like something fragile, something worth holding onto. He made you feel protected, spoiled, treated like a doll meant to be broken. His huge, gruff hands pulling, tugging, holding against your soft frame. The staggering size difference only turned him on more. The age gap didn’t matter either; if anything, he flaunted it. He even joked about how easy it was to “take over your mind and crawl into corners of your life without you realizing it.”

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise to you, or him, or even anyone else, when the very next night, after you swore you’d cut him off, he had you pinned to the bed. His broad shoulders between your legs, forcing them open as he yanked your soaked panties down and tossed them somewhere across the room without care.

“Gonna try cuttin’ me off again, sweetheart?” he smirked, voice thick and mocking. He knew exactly what he was, knew exactly the kind of power he had over you. He also knew that when it came to him, you had no restraint. No pride. That’s why he was always allowed back inside you.

You whimpered out a meek, shaky “n…no, ’m sorry,” just as his swollen tip tapped at your entrance. He wasn’t even trying to help you relax—he’d cranked the AC down to 69° just to watch your nipples pebble under your tank top, shivers racing across your body as you clawed at his skin. His pleasure first, always.

“Goddamn…” he groaned, eyes glued to your trembling body. “How many times is this tight little pussy gonna swallow me down ‘til I can make a mold of myself with you?”

He didn’t give you any warning. He never did. He just shoved himself inside with one brutal stroke.

You screamed, body arching off the mattress as pain and pleasure tangled in your chest. “F-fuck you, T—ngh—Toji!” You hated how he never gave you time to adjust, how his girth stretched you wide open in an instant. It wasn’t fair. But after a few lazy thrusts to get you used to him, the ache melted into that all-too-familiar heaven.

“You’re doin’ so fuckin’… mffph, so fuckin’ good, baby,” he rasped, already breathless. His hips started to work in steady snaps, his thick hands gripping your waist like he’d never let go. He bottomed out within minutes, groaning as your walls fluttered tight around him. Every clench made his cock twitch inside you.

“Can you believe you tried deprivin’ me of this?” he hissed, forehead dropping against yours. “Shit… baby, how could my sweet girl do that to me?”

Your back hit the mattress fully as his body loomed over yours, crushing you under his weight. He kissed your cheeks, your jaw, down your neck, whispering filthy praises between bites of your skin.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” he murmured against your ear. “Keep lettin’ me in like this… my fuckin’ sweetheart.”

His words wrapped around you as tight as his cock did. You whined, nails dragging down his back, thighs trembling.

“Even after blockin’ me. Even after actin’ like you didn’t want me,” he chuckled darkly, picking up his pace until the bed creaked. “At the end of the day, I’m still balls-deep inside you. My desperate little girl.”

Lewd, messy noises filled the room—the wet squelch of your cunt sucking him in, the slap of his heavy balls against your skin, the sharp smack of his hips driving forward. You could barely breathe as you watched him disappear into you over and over, his cock stretching you so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

Your moans grew louder, messier, breaking into cries. The rhythm of his thrusts bullied your cervix, pushed every nerve raw. “Mffphh—Toji! Please! ’M about to—Toji!”

He didn’t slow. He never did. His hips slammed into you, over and over, his groans mixing with yours.

“Fuck it, sweet girl,” he growled, voice hoarse, lips dragging over your damp skin. “Gonna come inside you. Gonna fill this greedy cunt and watch it leak all over.”

His voice alone nearly tipped you over the edge. And then it hit—your body clenching hard around him, walls fluttering desperately as your vision blurred with white heat.

“Fuck—take it, baby. Take all of it.”

He groaned loud as his cock twitched deep inside, spilling hot ropes of cum that seemed endless. The warmth spread through you, that intoxicating tingle that always came with him. He held himself there, buried to the hilt as you clenched and milked every drop from him.

When it was too much, he pulled out slow—agonizingly slow—and stroked himself until more thick streams painted your stomach. His cum dripped down your thighs, smeared across your belly, your sheets ruined beneath you.

Toji leaned back on his haunches, watching his mess on you with that cocky grin. He dragged his thumb through the white streaks on your stomach before shoving it past your lips.

“you look so pretty like this… so pretty full of me”

song inspired

short drabble, been a while since i wrote smut ok bai i hope u guys like 🍰

[noteclan]

Noteclan Moon 2!

so uh. Here's that aforementioned written piece. I think this is probably the best place to put it given that I want the end of the post to be about the end of the update:

It's still early in the day when Oatdawn and Beechdream set out in search of herbs, padding down the mountain into the forest of the valley.

Birds chirp and flutter in the trees. Iron-mud-red squirrels dash through the leaf litter after each other, oblivious to the cats trodding steadily along nearby. This forest is probably the liveliest place in several kilometres, other than maybe the shore of the lake. It’d be lovely, if not for the fact that all the animal smells are making it hard to find herbs.

At least if they can’t find anything it’s not a long walk back to the cave, something she wouldn’t be able to say if she was by the lake. Oatdawn dreads things fairly often, and one of them is the walk back up the mountain if xe must get herbs from all the way down there someday.

She glances to Beechdream for a second. He went there just recently to get xir a fish. He doesn’t even like fish.

..This walk is rather lovely, actually.

The scent of a mouse hits Oatdawn’s nose. Yet another animal distraction, yet another small creature she wants to pause and watch. But her duties as a medic must come first, as always.

You could use the bile against ticks, her mind chimes, tempting her, though she knows..

She doesn’t realize xe’s stopped until Beechdream does as well, his head tilted in silent question.

Oatdawn flicks her tail to point to the source of the smell, and seconds later there’s a skittering in the leaves in that spot. She watches, amused(surely this twinge in her heart is that), as Beechdream lowers himself to a hunting crouch. 

He fumbles the catch, which is probably for the best, though Oatdawn does struggle to believe that when xe catches a sharp bitterness in his eyes.

“When did you get so into hunting?” She asks, tone light enough to ease the edge in Beechdream’s eyes as he looks at xir. “I still remember- you used to hate it, didn’t you? And now you’re fishing and going after mice and challenging eagles, always out- when’d that happen?”

Beechdream stares at the ground for a second. “I got tired of not being able to.” He glances up to Oatdawn after a second, sees xir’s curiosity. “Like- skill wise? And from my job back home. I’m sick of being cooped in.”

“You did.." Oh, she wishes xir memory was better. "Camp security, yeah?”

Beechdream nods.

“You still went out to get brambles and stuff, though. Was that not enough?”

He shrugs. “No? I’m glad your plants are for you, but. Not for me.”

Oatdawn stills, considering. Xir eyes drift to where the mouse had been.

(That twinge in her heart, as xe watched Beechdream smoothly stalk along the forest floor, his movements precise and certain. Was that admiration or jealousy?)

Well. Even if she wanted to hunt, she doesn’t know-

“How do you.” She swallows, face hot. “how do you hunt?”

Any distance that’d been clinging in Beechdream’s eyes fades. “You-? Of course, you’re a medic. Ok, uhm-”

He launches into a very - dare xe say adorably - flustered explanation of a hunter’s crouch, glancing back at Oatdawn far too often(“I keep thinking- that clearly you know this so it’ll be rude to explain,” “snrk-, It’s not, I promise,”) for it to be a smooth process.

She does learn, though. And soon the mission of collecting herbs is forgotten, as Xe hunts for the first time. It takes a couple of tries but soon Oatdawn has a mouse clamped tight in her jaws and triumph settled nicely into that aching spot in xir chest.

She’s well familiar with having to talk around things, and lifts xir paw to set the mouse down on it to say “Thank you.”

Beechdream grins, and the two of them bask in the moment.

before Ochrewillow glances over his head.

“Oh. That’s rosemary.”

“..So it is, yes.”

Oatdawn stares for a second. “I should probably harvest some sprigs from that.”

So xe should probably give Beechdream the mouse.

Passing it to him is easy. It means that he stands there, apparently too busy holding it to help gather rosemary, but that’s fine. This is fine. He should get the credit for it anyway, he’s the warrior.

When she’s gathered as much as xe can easily hold in her mouth, Oatdawn turns to face him again. Beechdream pads closer, takes the mouse from his mouth with a paw and- sets it on her head?

“What? You’ve got good balance.” He says, grinning, and pads past her to start breaking twigs off of the rosemary bush. “Just- this size good?” He asks, holding a piece up.

Oatdawn goes to nod, then pauses, humming a m-hm instead.

this is really happening.

She really shouldn’t bring this back, Spirestar wouldn’t- Heronstar would. He would approve. They’re breaking out of the specialties now, aren’t they? Defenders and medics can hunt. Fighters can learn to build barriers. The kits are growing up without having to pick that strict a role, without a war.

Right.

She just did her first, and hopefully far from last, hunt.

and now we resume our regularly scheduled comicing, with a Veilbreak and Rainpaw patrol!

ah yes. neon orange. a sure sign that Plot lurks the area.

Start | Prev | Next

For anyone who skipped the written scene, Sílexclan wasn't the only name dropped; Oatdawn also thinks of a cat named Spirestar.

I don't plan on doing the huge written pieces often, but I had a lot of fun exploring it. One thing I've Not been having a lot of fun with is keeping these damned lineless cats from blending into the background. if anyone has any tips they'd be much appreciated

I'm still like. Hoping to eventually start updating more frequently. The reason this took so long is in large part because I started college partway through making it. So far I'm relatively low on homework though so here's hoping

So yeah! Hope you all enjoyed and that you have a lovely day!

[ineveryfandom]

i hand batman a baby. batman takes the baby. bruce wayne adopts the baby. the baby is introduced to the family. the family is not impressed.

-

Bruce, cooing over his new baby: aw, good evening honey, did you have a nice nap? of course you did, daddy was here the whole time! *proceeds to kiss the baby’s cheek multiple times*

Damian, beside them: *actively bleeding*

Tim: do you feel it now

Tim: do you feel your significance slowly dwindling

Tim: you are a middle child now damian

Tim: do you understand your fate. a middle child, damian. a middle child.

Damian:

Damian, unsheathing his sword: not for long

Before the baby’s Arrival…

Jason, admiring a motorcycle:

Bruce: *buys five*

Jason, glances at a shirt:

Bruce: *buys every color*

Jason: *stomach growls*

Bruce: *books the most expensive restaurant*

After the baby’s Arrival…

Jason: b

Bruce, attentively listening to the baby’s babbling, not even turning his head: hm?

Jason: can i buy this

Bruce, imitating airplanes to feed the baby: sure *tosses card*

Jason:

Jason: im hungry

Bruce, playing peek-a-boo: alfred. kitchen.

Jason:

Jason: *pretends to faint*

Bruce, moves baby away to safey, not sparing him a glance: yes sweetie that’s your brother jay. can you say it? say j-a-y

Baby, giggling, slapping jason’s face: da!

Bruce, gushing in excitement, picking the baby up: da?! did you say dad?! im right here baby! dad’s here!!

Jason:

Jason, still laying on the floor:

Jason, curling up:

Tim, walking by: middle child…the curse of the middle child…

Baby:

Dick: BABY :DD!!

Baby, with Bruce:

Dick: baby :D!

Baby, with Bruce, whose time and attention is now solely dedicated to the baby:

Dick: baby :)

Baby, with Bruce, whose time and attention is now solely dedicated to the baby, which means he no longer pays attention to his first child:

Dick: baby :(

Baby, with Bruce, whose time and attention is now solely dedicated to the baby, which means he no longer pays attention to his first child who just wants to spend time with his dad again because he misses him so much:

Dick: BABY >:[

Cass:

Baby:

Cass:

Baby:

Baby: *cries*

Cass: *narrows eyes*

Baby: *cries louder*

Cass: *hears bruce’s footsteps*

Cass, eyes narrowing again: smart baby

Baby: *stops crying* *smiles* *starts crying again*

Cass: you think dad will pick you?

Cass: *also starts crying*

Bruce, banging the door open, doesnt even notice Cass: BABY

Baby, sniffling, already being rocked in Bruce’s arms:

Baby, making eye contact with Cass:

Cass:

Cass: *starts crying for real*

Jim:

Barbara, glaring at her phone:

Jim:

Jim: haven’t seen bruce around these days…

Barbara: *glares at phone even harder*

Jim: must be busy with his new baby

Barbara: *types furiously while still glaring*

Jim: who knows how long ‘til he visits again

Barbara: *tosses phone out the window and leaves the room*

Duke, leaning against Bruce while playing a game:

Baby, on Bruce’s chest:

Baby: *slaps Duke’s game away*

Duke:

Duke, pursing his lips: *picks game back up* *leans against bruce again*

Baby:

Baby: *slaps Duke’s game away*

Duke: IS IT ‘CAUSE IM BLACK

Spoiler, tapping her foot impatiently: ugh where is he

Batman, gliding in:

Spoiler: finally! you’re la— IS THAT THE BABY.

Batman, baby strapped to his chest, wearing their own domino mask: …hm.

Spoiler: why. did you bring the baby.

Spoiler: it’s our hang-out day

Spoiler: me and you fighting crime and sitting on rooftops eating bat burgers

Batman, cowl ears drooping: …but the baby…

Spoiler, tears in her eyes: just admit you dont love us anymore!

Spoiler: *runs off*

Batman, in shock:

Spoiler, getting in the batmobile parked nearby: how was that

Red Robin, handing her money: perfect

Robin: tt this had better work

Oracle, watching Batman pace around guiltily through a camera: it will.

Orphan and Red Hood, huddled at the back, both mumbling: he ignored us…his favorites…he ignored…

Nightwing, also mumbling: replaced again…how many more times…

Signal: *snoring*

-

part 2

[missdynamighttt]

can you please write brat tamer!bakugou?? i alwayss think of him as the biggest brat tamer😵‍💫

it started off as a harmless little spat. something stupid. you were being a little bratty, pushing his buttons just to get a reaction out of him.

“oh my god, you’re so dramatic,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “you act like the world’s gonna end just ‘cause i forgot to text you back for an hour.”

katsuki snapped his head toward you, scowl deepening. “yeah, well maybe if you weren’t so fuckin’ glued to work all the damn time, you’d remember to answer your goddamn boyfriend.”

“ohhh, i’m sorry,” you drawled sarcastically. “i didn’t realize you were so needy, katsuki.”

“needy?!” his voice dropped an octave, practically growling. “you talk a lotta shit for someone who cries like a fuckin’ whore whenever i make you cum.”

…

the room went dead silent.

your mouth dried instantly. your thighs clenched.

“…what?”

“you heard me.” his tongue clicked, his voice dripping with condescension. “get all high ‘n mighty with me all you want — but the second i’ve got my hand between your legs, you turn into a fuckin’ mess."

your breath hitched. heat flooded your core so fast it was embarrassing.

“…that’s—” you swallowed thickly. “—not true.”

“ohhh, it’s not?” he stepped closer, towering over you. “so you don’t beg me to keep goin’? don’t fuckin’ scream my name like it’s the only word you know?”

your stomach flipped. your body betrayed you, your thighs squeezing together, and of course he noticed.

“…holy fuck.” his laugh was dark, low. “you’re gettin’ wet, aren’t you?”

your face burned. “i—no, i’m not—”

“liar,” he cut you off, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him. his mouth ghosted over yours, but he didn’t kiss you. “you wanted this, didn’t you?”

you could barely think straight. his hand was already grinding against your core through your shorts, and the friction was making you ache. “i-i didn’t—”

“didn’t what?” he laughed, but it was cruel. “didn’t think i’d put you in your place for talkin’ to me like that?”

his hand slid inside your shorts, two fingers brushing against your soaked panties. “or didn’t think i’d figure out how fuckin’ wet you got when i talked to you like a bitch?"

you whimpered, your body betraying you as you bucked against his hand. “f-fuck—”

he shoved your panties aside, his fingers sliding straight into your dripping cunt. “jesus fuckin’ christ. you’re drippin’.”

his pace was merciless, his fingers curling just right, and you practically screamed. “ain’t no fuckin’ way you’re gonna mouth off to me like that and expect me to be nice about it.”

“k-katsuki—” you gasped, clutching his arm like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “k-katsuki, fuck—”

katsuki snorted, a low, dark sound. “goddamn, you’re so fuckin’ easy. what, me bein’ a dick gets you this fuckin’ wet?”

your face burned, but you couldn’t deny it. your body betrayed you — the way your thighs squeezed around his hand, the way your hips ground down, desperate for friction.

“answer me, sweetheart,” his fingers pressed harder against you, the heel of his palm grinding into your clit. “you like when i’m a fuckin’ asshole to you, huh?”

you whimpered, arching into his touch. “y-yes…"

“yeah? that why you were runnin’ your fuckin’ mouth earlier?” he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “hopin’ i’d snap and put you in your fuckin' place?”

you didn’t even have the strength to deny it anymore. “yes,” you gasped. “fuck, yes."

“filthy fuckin’ girl," his laugh was dangerous. he curled his fingers, dragging them against that spot that made you see stars.

your head fell back, mouth hanging open as his fingers fucked into you at a brutal pace. your legs shook, your body already hurtling toward the edge. his fingers were relentless, pumping in and out of you like he had a point to prove.

his thumb found your clit, rubbing harsh, fast circles. “i’m gonna make you cum so many fuckin’ times you forget how to talk, you hear me?”

“y-yes—oh my god, yes—”

katsuki didn’t even give you a chance to breathe before he was on you. he yanked his fingers out, and you barely had time to whine in protest before you heard the sound of his belt clinking. his belt hit the floor with a loud clang, and he was already ripping your shorts down your legs.

you felt the head of his cock press against your soaked entrance — and then he slammed into you in one brutally slow thrust.

“oh my god—” you screamed, your hands flying up to brace yourself.

katsuki groaned, his forehead pressing against your shoulder. “fuckin’ knew it. knew you were just beggin’ to get fucked stupid.”

katsuki was already balls deep inside you, his hips snapped into you, merciless and unrelenting. “actin’ all tough — but you fall apart the second i get my cock in you."

“f-fuck—katsuki— ohhh my fucking god—” you sobbed, gripping the couch cushion like your life depended on it.

“yeah?” katsuki snarled, his hands digging into your hips as he fucked into you like he hated you. “what happened to all that fuckin’ attitude, huh?”

“i—i’m sorry,” you gasped, your eyes rolling back as he pounded into you mercilessly.

“nah,” he spat, his hand snaking up to fist your hair, yanking your head back. his mouth was at your ear, his tone dripping with condescension. “you weren’t sorry when you were runnin’ your fuckin’ mouth, were you?”

you wailed, body jolting with each brutal thrust. “i—i didn’t mean to—”

“bull-fuckin’-shit,” he growled, slamming into you even harder, making your vision white out. his hand smacked your ass hard, making you scream. “you wanted this. and now look at you. fuckin’ dumb on my cock already.”

“ohhh fuck—” you were drooling, practically melting under him.

“greedy little whore,” he sneered, yanking you up so your back was flush to his chest. one hand was tight around your hair, the other shoved between your legs, rubbing quick, ruthless circles on your clit. “gettin’ this fuckin’ wet—just ‘cause i was mean to you?”

“please, please, please,” you cried, grinding down on his cock. “i need it, i need it so bad—”

“god, you’re so fuckin’ easy,” he laughed, dark and mean. “all i gotta do is treat you like a cheap little fucktoy and you lose your goddamn mind.”

your walls clenched around him hard, and he felt it.

“ohhh, fuck yeah.” he laughed darkly, his other hand smacking your ass so hard you squealed. “you like that shit, don’t you? bein’ treated like a fuckin’ cumdump?”

“please—!” you sobbed, your face burning. “please, please—please don’t stop—”

“yeah? that what you fuckin’ wanted?” his hands bruised your hips as he pounded into you, his thick cock stretching you open mercilessly.

“katsuki—!” you screamed, your legs shaking uncontrollably.

“shut the fuck up,” he snapped, shoving two fingers in your mouth. “bite down if you need to scream, i’m not fuckin’ stoppin’ until you can’t fuckin’ walk.”

your eyes rolled back, your brain melting from the sheer overstimulation.

“fuckin’ slut,” katsuki snarled, his thrusts getting sloppier. his hand slammed down on your ass again, the sound echoing through the room. “you’re so fuckin’ tight, you keep suckin’ me back in, like you don’t want me to leave—”

“don’t—!” you sobbed, voice muffled around his fingers. “don’t leave, don’t stop, please—”

katsuki’s laugh was downright evil. he yanked his fingers out of your mouth, watching the string of drool snap. “beggin’ me like a desperate little bitch. you want me to fill you up, huh? fuckin’ breed you?”

“yes—!” you wailed, tears streaming down your face. “please, please, please—”

he growled, yanking your hair back so your back arched. “all it takes is my fuckin’ cock and you turn into a sloppy, brainless mess, huh?”

“yes, yes, yes—” you sobbed, already a mess. you could feel how wet you were, hear the obscene squelching with every thrust as he ruthlessly railed you into the couch.

your eyes rolled back, drool slipping from your lips as he bullied his cock deeper. you could feel your orgasm barreling toward you again, your thighs shaking uncontrollably. “katsuki, i’m gonna—”

“don’t you fuckin’ dare until i tell you to.” his thrusts slammed into you harder, his hand absolutely abusing your clit. “you wanna cum? you ask for it.”

“please, please, please—” you were sobbing, your body begging for release. “i’ll be good, i’ll be so good—please let me cum, please, please—”

“that’s more fuckin’ like it,” katsuki growled, his own thrusts getting sloppy as he bottomed out inside you over and over again.

and when he finally slammed into you one last time, his hips shuddering as he came deep inside you — you swore you blacked out for a second. your walls milked him so hard he cursed, his hips stuttering as he filled you up, his teeth sinking into your shoulder with a feral growl.

“fuckin’ hell,” he panted, still buried deep inside you.

katsuki let out a heavy breath, his chest heaving against your back as he slowly came down from his high. his arms were still locked tight around your waist, holding you flush against him, as if he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.

you, on the other hand, were utterly wrecked. your body felt boneless, your brain floating somewhere between the couch cushions and the afterglow. the only thing keeping you from melting into a puddle was the fact that katsuki still had you caged against him, his cock still nestled deep inside you.

“…you alive, sweetheart?” his voice was low, raspy, but there was a teasing lilt to it, the barest hint of a smirk pressing against your shoulder.

you made a noise—somewhere between a whimper and a breathless laugh—because no, you weren’t entirely sure you were alive. “maybe.”

his lips ghosted over the bite mark he’d left on your shoulder, soothing it with a lazy kiss. “tch.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke. his hand ran up and down your back, slow and lazy, while his other hand found your thigh, kneading it absently like he was grounding himself. your breath evened out against his skin, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a hazy daze.

he pulled out slowly, and you shuddered as his cum dripped down your thighs. katsuki hummed, smug as ever, but the way his hands gently kneaded your hips gave him away.

“lemme see,” he turned you over carefully, his hands bracing you as if you were fragile now. his gaze darkened when he saw the mess between your legs. “shit. you really took it all, huh?”

your face burned as you pouted up at him. “stop looking at me like that.”

he smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “like what? like i wanna go again?”

you groaned, trying to bury your face in the couch, but he only laughed. “alright, alright. c’mere.” he tugged you up and into his arms, carrying you toward the bathroom with ease.

you sighed against his chest, boneless in his grasp. “you’re…really good at that, y’know?”

his chest rumbled as he chuckled. “no shit. i’d hope so after all these years.”

you huffed, but your smile betrayed you. “mhm. still an asshole, though.”

“mhm,” he nudged your forehead with his chin. “i'm your asshole.”

you hummed in agreement, nuzzling closer as he set you down on the counter. he turned to start the bath, and you watched as he tested the water, his usual scowl softened with something almost tender.

“you alright?” he asked, not turning around.

your heart swelled, and you reached for him, tugging on his wrist.

“yeah,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his palm. “perfect.”

he huffed, cheeks a little pink, but he didn’t pull away. instead, he cupped your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your skin.

“hmph,” he muttered. “better be.”

then-

“you talk a lotta shit for someone who just got turned into a fuckin’ puddle,” katsuki murmured, a smug grin evident in his tone.

you groaned into his chest. “don’t start.”

“oh, i’m startin’,” he snickered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “miss ‘ohhh, i didn’t realize you were so needy, katsuki.’”

you smacked his chest weakly. “shut up.”

“needy, huh?” he mocked, snorting. “that why you were beggin’ me to fill you up?”

your face burned. “katsuki.”

“‘please, please, please, i’ll be so good—’” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice, clearly enjoying himself too much.

“oh my god.” you shoved your face deeper into his chest, willing the counter to swallow you whole.

he chuckled, his fingers tangling in your hair, scratching at your scalp in a way that made you melt despite yourself. “awww, what’s wrong? where’s all that attitude now, sweetheart?”

“i hate you.”

“yeah?” he kissed the top of your head, his voice annoyingly soft now. “too bad i love you, huh?”

“yeah, yeah. needy,” you whispered, just to be a brat.

for a moment, you just lay there, warm and content in his arms. then—

katsuki suddenly scooped you up again, making you squeal as he carried you over to the bathtub. “keep runnin’ your mouth, and i’ll dunk your ass in cold water.”

you clung to his shoulders, giggling. “you wouldn’t dare.”

his smirk was downright evil. “try me.”

you yelped as he pretended to tip you forward, and he snorted at your panicked grip on him.

the water was perfectly warm, steam curling into the air as he slowly lowered you in. the moment your body sank into the heat, you sighed in pure bliss, the tension in your muscles melting away.

katsuki knelt across from you on the tub, watching you with that familiar intensity. his fingers trailed lazily over your arm, tracing invisible patterns along your damp skin.

“you’re staring,” you mumbled, cracking an eye open.

“damn right i am,” he muttered, reaching for a washcloth. “can’t believe you called me needy when you’re sittin’ here all fucked out and clingin’ to me.”

you stuck your tongue out at him, but you didn’t protest when he started running the warm cloth over your skin, taking his time cleaning you up. his touch was firm but careful, sweeping over your shoulders, your arms, your legs. when he reached between your thighs, his jaw clenched at the mess he found there.

“fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “made a goddamn mess of you.”

your face heated instantly. “i can do it myself,” you mumbled, reaching for the cloth, but he swatted your hand away.

“like hell you can. just sit there and let me take care of you.”

you fell silent, lips parting slightly.there was something different about his voice—gruff, sure, but also softer than before. almost reverent.

katsuki never did anything halfway. whether it was fucking you into the couch like he had something to prove, or scrubbing every inch of you with a kind of focused determination like he was doing now—he was always all in.

your heart ached with how much you loved him.

“katsuki.”

he glanced up, raising a brow at your tone.

you reached for him, fingers curling around the back of his neck as you pulled him down into a kiss. it was slow, sweet, completely different from the way his mouth had been on you earlier. he hummed against your lips, the hand holding the washcloth slipping to your waist as he deepened the kiss.

when you finally pulled away, his gaze flickered over your face, then he scoffed, rolling his eyes. but his ears were red as he reached for your shampoo, squirting some into his palm before running his fingers through your hair.

you melted immediately. “god, i love you.”

"tch. i love you more," katsuki grumbled, but you caught the way he pressed his lips to the top of your head. his arms curled tighter around you, holding you close, as if he could keep you there forever.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[p1astr81]

baby piastri - op81

in which: Oscar is learning to take care of his new baby girl.

pairing: dad!oscar piastri x mom!reader

warnings: none I don’t think?? fluff, super short blurb

‧‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You woke to the sound of yours and Oscar’s child crying. It’s been only three weeks since you brought her home, but it felt like ages, as you have hardly slept. Oscar usually slept through her cries. You never wanted to bother him, so you took care of it yourself despite his many protests.

Tonight was no different. You didn’t care about the time as the concept of it became irrelevant to you in the past weeks. But at some point late in the night, your little Isla started to fuss. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, walking in zombie-like motions toward the baby cradle. You yawned as you reached into her cot, but your hands were met with nothing but air.

All of your senses immediately switched on high. You became more alert than that time you had three energy drinks in one day. You followed the sound of her cries, your feet moving faster than your brain could even process.

Your movements stopped when you saw Oscar pacing around the living room. He kept his usual calm demeanor, but you knew him so well that you could tell he was internally panicking. Little isla flailed in his arms as he softly bounced her around, hoping it would calm her. It didn’t. Her lungs worked overtime as she cried.

There was an open book on the coffee table. One of the books Oscar bought in preparation for the baby. A book all about parenting a new born. He leaned over to read something before turning to Isla, “You want your passy? Is that it?” He asked, offering the piece of plastic right in front of her mouth, but she swatted it away with her little hand. “No? Okay. Are you hungry then?” His voice was soft and low, overflowing with concern. “Mum isn’t awake but I’m sure there’s some food for you in the fridge.” He smiled lovingly down at your daughter.

“Oscar,” you called softly, just loud enough for him to hear you over isla’s screeching cries. His eyes met yours, an amount of remorse in them that you’d never seen before. He sighed. “I’m sorry, hon. I really didn’t want to wake you. I tried to get her to calm down.” He knew how much you’d been doing. How often you’d wake up and how little you slept. He always tried to help but you were so stubborn on being independent. His attention reverted back to the baby girl, tsk-ing out shushes as he tried to calm her.

You grabbed an unfinished bottle from the day before, and met Oscar in the middle of the room to hand it over. “I don’t know how you do it.” He chuckled and joined you on the couch. Luckily, isla clung to the bottle as soon as it was in her reach, solving the problem of her screaming. “You’ll learn,” you replied with a hum and rested your head on his shoulder. It didn’t take long for you to drift away from consciousness.

[twola]

Arthur definitely grips the headboard

Softness

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Somehow you always had known he could be like this. One doesn’t get the reputation that he does by handing out flowers and being gentle.

Deep down, you had also known that this side of him simmered beneath the surface. Though he has been nothing but a gentleman to you through this courtship, or whatever you’d call it, you knew there would be a moment when he snaps, taut like a rope.

The pillow mercifully muffles your hoarse voice, strung out and breathless as you are completely under his control, pressed down into the mattress as if you were to melt into it.

Thoroughly used and fucked out, your moans and cries have become guttural as you smother them by shoving your face into the pillow, having lost your fight with gravity long ago.

Although you can do nothing more than accept, he on the other hand is still full of energy he is taking out on you. Your arms have gone useless, unable to hold you up for some time now. Having fallen forward into the pillow, your back is arched and hips held up by one of his large hands.

“Tha’s it,” he grunts above you, throwing his hips into yours, mercilessly pumping his cock into your cunt. You groan again into the pillow as he slams into you hard.

“Take it, fuck - take it,” he hisses as he leans further over you, one of his hands leaving your hips and clutching at the headboard of the bed. It’s been banging against the wall for the last several minutes, surely alerting the other guests of the hotel what you were up to.

You mewl piteously. You won’t be able to ride a horse for a week at this point. Your cunt is sopping wet as he pounds into you, bruises from his fingers already blooming across your skin. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come; from the second he shut the door behind you in this hotel room, he’s been on you like a man possessed.

Maybe he’s riding the high of the score. Maybe it’s taking frustration out.

“Ngh, Arth- agh - Arthur-”

Hearing his name muffled into the pillow seems to drive him wild, clenching your hips with one hand and pressing you down, down into the mattress as his cock hits spots so deep inside you you swear you’re going to pass out.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl-” he pants as his breakneck pace begins to falter, leaning heavily on the headboard, his knuckles white from gripping it.

“Gonna fill you up, g-gonna-”

His babbling devolves into a low moan as he slams his hips down into yours one final time. He remains still for a moment, breathing heavily as he finds his release deep into your waiting cunt.

Arthur groans as he pulls out, his cock near dripping with his spend and your slick. He flops down next to you in the bed as you slowly roll onto your side.

He breathes out through his nose, and chuckles softly as he turns his head toward you, “Well that was different there, darl-”

“Shit, shit -” his satisfied grin drops as he sees your tear- streaked face, “Oh, oh honey - I didn’t - shit.”

He draws you into his embrace, cupping your cheek as his brow furrows, you can see in his eyes the guilt overtaking him.

“ M’okay-”

“Jesus, what a bastard I am-”

“Arthur-” You press your hand against his sweat-dotted sternum, “I’m fine. Seriously. Maybe just gonna a bit sore riding.”

He clenches his jaw, obviously not thrilled with your answer.

“Christ, I’m sorry. Last thing I ever want to do is hurt-”

You cut him off by surging forward and pressing your lips to his, pressing your tongue inside, throwing your leg over his hip to plaster yourself against him.

He’s breathless by the time you pull away, one arm tight around your waist.

You smile, reaching up and brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead.

“Just warn a girl next time, Mister Morgan.”

His cheeks blaze red for a moment before you lean in and kiss him again.

[loveinhawkins]

“What happened to Steve?” Dustin asks.

He’s already shut the door so no-one can overhear, has left everyone else—almost everyone—in the living room. He can make out some sounds in the background: Robin, who’s still talking overly loud, valiantly trying to drown out the noise coming from the bathroom; from Nancy who’s locked herself in there, and the sound of running water only half covers up stifled, sobbing gasps—each one makes Dustin’s stomach drop.

And if he really concentrates, he can hear the quiet creak of Steve pacing in concern, and there, every other step or so, the movement stops abruptly. It’s barely a second before it starts up again, but Dustin knows when Steve’s bracing himself, knows when he’s in pain.

And there are way too many things he can’t solve—Nancy’s hidden, gut-wrenching cries are another unwelcome reminder of that fact.

So he asks again, “What happened to Steve?” because he knows, if nothing else, he can solve this.

Eddie jumps, confirming Dustin’s suspicions that he didn’t hear the question the first time. He’s sat hunched over on his bed, surrounded by scattered piles of tapes from their panicked search earlier. He looks up, blinks a couple times like his mind’s been somewhere else for a long while.

“What happened to—? Uh, why don’t you just ask Steve?”

Because, Dustin thinks, you can’t lie for shit.

He doesn’t say it, but maybe Eddie suspects something, because he mutters, “Sure, sure, okay,” under his breath and clears a spot for Dustin on the bed. He keeps dropping tapes, like his hands are too unsteady to keep a hold of them; there’s a crack in one of the plastic cases already.

Dustin sits, and then Eddie tells him. It’s not like he hadn’t guessed something kinda close to it, but the confirmation is good to have.

“So. Demobats,” Dustin says in summary, because Eddie had trailed off near the end, as if he was reliving the dive into The Upside Down all over again. He cracks a smile at the name, though.

“Cute.”

“And Steve… like, he a rode a bike and everything so he’s…?”

Dustin tries to make his thumbs up look as confident as possible. Eddie nods a little too slowly for his liking, but he’ll take it.

“Yeah, um. Hey, Dustin, does, uh, all of that…” Eddie waves a hand vaguely. “Does that, like, happen a lot? Historically?”

Dustin doesn’t need to ask what he means.

Several memories battle to reach the forefront, but what wins is Steve in the junkyard before anything had even happened, how he whistled, bat in his hands. And Dustin had firmly filed the whole thing under awesome which yeah, it was, and maybe if he keeps thinking about how awesome it was, he won’t have to think about—

“He just—he just needs someone to watch his back.”

It’s almost a non-answer because it’s true of everyone, a Party rule so obvious it goes without saying. Still, Eddie nods again, and when he rearranges the last of the tapes his hands don’t shake.

“That I can do,” Eddie says.

There’s a edge of self-deprecation to the words, like he’s saying it’s one of the few things he’s capable of, and Dustin wants to push back against it because it’s not fair. Eddie’s only at a disadvantage in that it’s like he’s joined a long-running D&D campaign mid-way through, missing pages and pages of notes, and all he’s got time to get is hastily thrown together bullet points.

The creak of Steve’s footsteps suddenly gets louder before there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Everything okay in there?”

“Come on in, Harrington,” Eddie says.

Steve opens the door. “What’re you doing?” he says casually, but Dustin can tell he’d been worried; his eyes flicker around the room as if he’s checking it’s still safe.

“Oh, just getting Henderson to work on his tone.”

A millisecond ago, Dustin had been all for whatever excuse Eddie could come up with. But now…

“My what?”

Steve laughs like this is all very funny. Dustin keeps his eyes sharp even in his indignation, takes note of how Steve holds himself as he leans against the doorway: not relaxed by any stretch, but there’s no longer the awful sense that he’s holding his breath in pain. And the bandages wrapped around him are dry, Dustin double-checks to be sure. It’s not ideal—none of this is—but he can work with it.

Meanwhile, one thing he can’t work with is baseless slander.

“I don’t have a tone, what the hell.”

Eddie heaves a sigh. “That’s exactly what someone with a tone would say.”

Dustin kicks him.

And in the middle of Eddie pretending to be mortally wounded, he sobers abruptly—must notice the same thing just ahead of Dustin, that the water in the bathroom’s stopped running.

Eddie catches Steve’s eye. “Wheeler?” he mouths.

Steve pauses. “She’s okay,” he mouths back, and then mimes with his hand, five minutes, which is absolutely not the whole story, but it’s the one they’re getting for now.

And if she needs some more time, Dustin can find plenty more sources of distraction. What he settles on is a double take that would put Drama Club to shame.

“Wow, Steve, that’s a cool vest, where’d you get it?”

He dodges Eddie’s kick.

“Tone, dickhead,” Steve returns easily, and he grins, glances over to Eddie with a wry shake of the head.

The bathroom door clicks open, and Dustin hears Robin warmly greet Nancy in the living room. Steve looks relieved, pats the doorframe a couple times before he beckons for him to be followed out.

Dustin hesitates the tiniest bit so he can keep an eye on how Steve walks. He turns back to Eddie with one last questioning thumbs up; Eddie, still a little pink in the face, smiles back and gives a reassuring wink.

[bluudsucka]

august night (chapter II) - remmick x fem!reader

chapter I - chapter II - chapter III

summary: after your night spent with remmick; the relationship with your husband shriveled up and died like a wilting flower in the summer heat. having no where else to turn to and your prayers being left unanswered, you decided to let remmick turn you, becoming a vampire yourself. many years with remmick passed and each year he becomes more bloodthirsty - more passionate about community. With vampires hunters chasing you down, you have no choice but to be on the run. But being on the road with your lover could create a rift between the two of you...

word count: 7k

warnings: smut, oral sex (m!receiving), unprotected sex, hive mind, slight undertones of mind control, toxic relationship dynamics, power imbalances, subtle cult undertones, slight mentions of drugs, non-canonical setting, set in the the 1960s, mentions of murder, violence towards the end.

author's note: here's part two!! i had a looot of fun writing this, like omg!! i also learned how to add images with fics - honestly i love it, it gives the vibes i'm trying to convey. thank you for reading and for the support <3

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Golden rays from the sun crept through the stained and spotty lace curtains that hung in front of the window which fogged with steam. The air within the washroom was thick and heavy with the scent of lavender - the floral smell becoming stronger by the minute due to heat that was trapped inside of the room.

Cold hands roamed over your tense shoulders from the shadows, a rough washcloth pressing into your skin as nimble fingers massage your tense muscles. You sat in the porcelain tub with your legs close to your naked chest; your arms hugging around them tightly. The heat from the water nipped at your skin - slightly burning. But the intense warmth calmed your racing nerves. Remmick reached over your shoulder, dipping the cloth into the soapy water as he continued to bathe you.

Two nights ago your husband finally came home from wherever he had been, stress rolling off of his body as he paced around the living room with heavy footsteps. You watched him as he mumbled scriptures to himself in an attempt to calm his fried nerves. You told him to take a breath - to calm down - but that only agitated him more, causing you both to enter a screaming match with each other. Secrets he had kept hidden away from you spilled out of his mouth like a running faucet; he told you everything.

He was leaving you, high and dry for a woman who he barely knew all because she was having his child. His first child, that you refused to give him - he claimed. He didn't love her, of course. But to keep up with appearances, he was going to ask for her hand in marriage, kicking you to the curb like a guest that outstayed their welcome - kicking you out of your own home.

Remmick came to you last night, as if he heard your desperate plea for his company. He stayed with you, listing to your cries about the man that broke you down for years. You were fed up, you were tired, and you were done praying. And Remmick knew this; because he was here to release you from this heartache.

To give you salivation. To save you from yourself.

"I'll make sure you feel good, pretty girl. I'll make it so you'll feel nothin' but happiness - nothin' but joy. No more hurtin', no more cryin', no more pain. Only love. Forever." He whispered, pressing the warm towel against your back. You leaned into his touch as your racing mind eased at his sickly sweet words.

"Will it hurt?" You asked in a hushed tone which earned a chuckle from the vampire.

"Only a little, I'm so sorry, sugar. This will be the first and last time I'll ever hurt you. I promise." Remmick answered, squeezing the wet rag within his hand - the warm water from the rough towel dripped onto your exposed shoulder. Trying his best to comfort you he lovingly stroked your hair, tucking thick strands that stuck to your face behind your ear. Your eyes gazed out at the window as you leaned into Remmick's cold touch. Reaching your hand out you watched the sliver of light dance on your skin, this will be the last time feeling the warmth of sunshine.

With a slight tilt of your head your eyes met with Remmick's, his brown irises now shined bright red and his fangs were ever so prominent. He sat on a wooden stool behind you, just out of reach from the sunlight that slipped through the dingy lace curtain.

"I love you." You whispered.

"I love you too." He replied.

"Promise you'll take care of me?" You asked.

"I promise." He reassured.

Pulling yourself closer towards him - your body now within the shadows - you lulled your head to the side exposing your neck to him. He placed a long and tender kiss on your warm skin and his arms wrapped around you, the water that clung onto your wet body soaked through his shirt - but he still held onto your naked frame tightly, as if you'll slip out of his grasp. His lips dragged against the thick artery that resided under the thin skin of your neck. You could feel him drooling on you and before you could even think about pulling away from his arms; changing your mind about being turned.

He bit down, draining the blood that course through the thick vein, and replacing it with the venom that clung to his teeth. Your mouth hung open as a low and guttural groan fell from your lips, you wanted to scream - but the pain was so unbearable that only silence followed. Your body instinctively thrashed against Remmick, trying to protect itself from his razer sharp maw. The sound of splashing water echoed through the room as Remmick held you down, pressing your body flush onto his.

The pain was no other, it felt like you're being shocked by surge of electricity, your body shaking intensely as his teeth sunk deeper, and your heart felt like it was going to explode. Thick and dark blood quickly oozed out of punctured wound on your neck, staining your skin as the thick ichor crawled over your breast - clouding the once clear bathwater into a murky red. Remmick continued to drink, your thrashing began to dissipate, your body giving up, and your once racing heart slowed at a dangerous speed. The pain that crashed into your body harshly soon turned into a dull feeling of euphoria; the same feeling you'd feel when stretching your body after a long day of work.

Is this what it feels like to die? Your eyes fluttered heavily, you were tired - sleepy even. And with one last sigh you closed your eyes shut, your body now ice cold to the touch, even when submerged in the hot bathwater.

"T-Thank you..." You choked out as your consciousness slipped into darkness, and your stiff body hanging limp in Remmick's arms as he pulled his mouth away from your battered neck.

August 5th, 1932 was the day you died. And that very same day; you were liberated.

You were 'saved'.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒── 

August 13, 1968

The rhythmic sound of metal strings strumming reverberated within the large van that you and Remmick shared - a red Volkswagen with cream accents - and it was spacious enough for adequate living arraignments when needed. The widows were covered in thick forest green drapes, shielding the both of you from the blistering Mississippi sunshine. You, Remmick, and the 'family' were camping out on the outskirts of a nearby town - a perfect place for hiding in plain sight. The thick swamp that surrounded you created a shield for your tribe of fledgling vampires, not a soul would wonder out here unless invited.

Your family was on the run from vampire hunters that caught wind of your existence in the southern state; all thanks to Remmick's insatiable appetite. Over the many years you've spent together after he turned you; you've noticed his hunger for blood increased as each decade pass - it didn't help that the people you'd feasted on in this decade were filled with drugs like acid, weed, and shrooms.

He was addicted.

Often drinking from at least eight people a day; but on a 'good' day he'd drink from more - often gorging himself on blood until he got sick, which would make you and your family sick due to your minds and body connecting with his.

But you love him.

With trembling hands from the frequent sickness you'd experience at that moment; you would rub his tense back as Remmick would puke up the thick coagulated blood that sat in his stomach, whispering nothing but affirmations in his ear - you wondered if you truly meant to say those words yourself...

Remmick was the de facto leader of the group, guiding you and your family through the thick swamps and woods of the countryside. He was picky about who would join the flock, only turning those who's sole purpose was to benefit the cause.

Artist and free-thinkers only; the rest were nothing but food.

He was the only one who had the authority to turn someone and if he found out anyone within the family strayed away from his rules - biting a loved one and turning them without his permission - that person and their loved one would be hunted by the family and strapped down until the sun would burn their undead skin into ash, sending their souls to God knows where.

The other rules within the family was to always trust him and his word, it was mandatory to listen to his 'sermons' about equality, peace, brotherhood, and love. Condemning the outsiders that would never understand the community and bond that he cultivated for the family - he and he alone - would protect the family from whoever would cause them harm.

And your family lapped up his honey dipped words like starving dogs.

And so did you...

They would refer to him as 'Brother Remmick', often knocking on the door of the van in hopes of hearing his wise words of what they should do - asking what sort of song they should write, what color of paint they should use, what kind of dance move they should practice. But often times they'd be met with you, their 'Sister', as Remmick was in the middle of binging on his seventh body, getting drunk off of information and high on tainted blood.

Skillful fingers strummed away on the banjo - that old and ancient instrument. It was impressive how well he took care of it over the years, replacing the strings when needed, cleaning bloody finger prints off of the neck of the banjo, sometimes his brain would be too fried to remember to clean his hands after 'eating' and he would pluck away at the strings as melancholy lyrics fell from his crimson lips.

His appearance didn't change that much over the years; but his sense of fashion did. Swapping out his suspenders and button ups, he now wore blue jeans and an open long sleeve shirt with a white wife-beater underneath, his golden chain still hanging around his neck as it accentuated his collar bones and adam's apple. His hair was the same length as brown tresses slightly fell over his forehead and his face still sported light stubble.

Just like the day you first met him.

You looked vastly different though.

You use to wear long dresses that touched the floor, not showing any skin at all, and your natural hair always tied back. You didn't wear any accessories either - only the wedding ring that your ex-husband gave you. Now you've grown a sense of confidence in not only yourself; but in your body as well. You'd often wear sheer see-through paisley printed dresses that stopped above your knees, your underwear slightly visible through the thin fabric. You wore your hair down - the natural curls of your tresses frizzy from the humid heat.

You ditched the tarnished wedding ring your ex gave to you at the alter, pawning it off in the 40s for some cash. And in exchange Remmick gifted you a golden necklace - one that matched his. A symbolism of the bond you shared.

With a sigh Remmick quit his strumming and gazed at your figure that laid on the mattress, you were flipping through a magazine that you asked Remmick to buy you when he was in town to feed. Noticing the sudden lack of music your eyes looked back into his as his face twisted in pain.

You know that look.

"I'm starvin'." He mumbled as he rested his banjo beside him and his calloused hands rubbed his knees. Quickly he peeked under the blinds of the van looking out at his family who sang, painted, and danced away under the moonlight. All of them waiting for his appearance and soothing words.

They were getting restless, Remmick could hear it and feel their desire to see him within his mind. An intense anxiousness bubbled within his unbeating heart - he needed some blood to cool his nerves, he'd even drink from a sickly drunkard if needed.

"You just ate, baby..." You replied as you set the magazine down, your eyes watching him sit up from the wooden chair - he was pacing now and his breathing was heavy. "You're eatin' out way too much in this town...The hunters--"

"Fuck 'em! Fuck the hunters! I ate three hours ago - I need my fixin' now." He said in a desperate tone, cutting off your concerned plea. He could feel your mind wavering as each day pass, questioning him and his judgment. But that only made him fight against your bothered thoughts about him with fever, he knew that a part of you couldn't take it - fleeing deeper in the country side when the vampire hunters found your campsite, killing off members of your family with ease. You offered up the idea of moving the family out of Mississippi completely, but he refused.

He was terrified about leaving this state - about starting over from scratch again. Violent memories flooded his mind each and every morning about his old home before fleeing to America, how he lost his closest loved ones either from the famine or brutal colonization. He didn't even want to leave Ireland in the first place - but he had no choice, it was out of his control.

And he hated that.

Mississippi was his home now and he'll be damned if these so called 'vampire hunters' would scare him off. He was comfortable here - he had control over his life again after many, many years of aimlessly wandering the earth. You should be happy that he had some sense of power; even if he lacked self-restraint at least he was free.

You should be elated - you should be...

But you weren't and it pained him.

"You love me, right, pretty girl? Say that you do..." He mumbled as his dark eyes that you adored blinked pitifully, using the nickname that he gave you all those years ago. He use to solely call you 'pretty girl' - sometimes 'lass' when he dropped the southern gentleman persona in exchange for his natural Irish twang, but that was when it was just you two behind closed doors. But recently he called you neither, only by your first name. The only moments when he would refer to you by those nicknames was when he needed something - softening you up before asking you to commit a grueling task he didn't want to do or if he was in the mood to fuck.

And it worked every time. It was like spell and when he would sing out those nicknames you would follow his every command blindly. The names that were once so sweet, once so genuine, once so pure was now a tool to get you to comply and obey.

"Oh, Remmi," You sighed out as he dropped to his knees, his strong arms wrapping around your waist while his cheek rested on your abdomen. Your hands raced through his hair, scratching his scalp as he leaned into your touch. "I'll always love you; 'til the day I ain't here no more."

"Promise, pretty girl?"

"I promise..."

A pause hanged in the air and he whimpered out a moan that tugged relentlessly on your heartstrings. You held onto him closer, looking down at the man that clung onto you as if he was a lost child. It was pathetic truly. The man that you met thirty years ago that oozed with confidence and pride begged like a baby when he didn't get his way, and you wondered if he'd always been like this - but half of you had hope this was just a phase and he'll be back to his old self.

You needed to get him out of Mississippi, even if he wouldn't relent.

For his sake.

"I'm so hungry, baby." Was all he said against your clothed torso and you got the hint.

"I'll be back..." You mumbled.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Squelching sounds of thick blood dripping onto the floor of the van echoed, your eyes watching Remmick eat - draining the lifeforce out of a man that you lured back into the camp. Your fledglings wanted to indulge on the man's body as well; begging you within your mind to have at least one taste, but you reprimanded them that this meal was for Remmick and Remmick only.

They'll have their fix in the next town over.

Minds were still reeling from the pious words that Remmick preached to the family and their cold blooded bodies sore from dancing with so much vigor - they needed him more. They adored the way he spoke, the way he sang, the way he reassured them; guiding them through the dark and showing them the 'light' that only your kind had.

It was an honor to be turned by Remmick and assimilate within the webs of his mind - for the greater good.

They sung out his name as if it was a holy hymn, begging and pleading with the elder vampire to come back outside and grace them with his leadership - but you knew that he was spent, he was tired and once he's tired he gets agitated easily - the only cure to his sour mood is to drown it away with warm blood.

Ichor and blood clots clung onto Remmick's cold skin, the bright crimson clashed against his pale complexion as he drank away from the body. You felt bad that this would be the outcome of this stranger's life - becoming just a snack for a vampire - not even a meal that'll fill him up. Pulling his lips away from the man's neck Remmick's teeth were razer sharp and pointed.

Each and every time he would binge on blood the more monstruous his vampiric appearance would look. Long nails that would grow and turn black as night, the skin on his face cracking and stretching over bone, and the muscles underneath his skin would convulse as if his body tried it's best to keep up with his excess appetite.

"Mhm." Rimmick groaned as he released the man out of his arms, making the stranger crumple towards the ground lifelessly. His vampiric features slowly melted away - returning back to his natural appearance that you prefer but his eyes remained a ruby red color and his poisonous sharp teeth grazed the raw skin of his fingers, licking the bloodstained digits slowly, savoring the rich gore that oozed out of the man's neck.

"I'm feelin' good...Real good. Thank you for takin' care of me, baby. You always know what I need."

"Always, you know I won't steer you wrong," you replied as your eyes followed Remmick's sporadic movements. Resting your chin on your knee your mind wondered if now was the right time to bring up the idea of moving camp - moving out of Mississippi, but there was never a right time to talk about it. Remmick swore to protect you - but it was also your duty to protect him even when he felt like he didn't need it.

"Remmi...We gotta get out of here, it ain't safe any--"

"Ah, shit! This again?! Please, please don't ruin my mood with nonsense, darlin'. You know I hate it when you do that..." He cut you off and his hand lazily shooed you away as if by doing this action would shut down the conversation, it would have in the past - but right now he needed to hear this.

"Nonsense? Remmick, when I was in town getting that sorry bastard for you to feed on I over heard them townsfolk talkin' about 'monsters' in the woods - how people go missing in the dead of night; they're catchin' on and when people catch on they show up." You said, the words flowing out of your mouth with desperation. Leaning up from the mattress you crawled towards him - in an attempt to touch him - but he moved himself away from you as if you were a stranger.

As if all those years spent together was nothing.

"Let them show up I don't give a damn anymore!" Remmick blurted out and his bright red eyes leered at you with challenge, even when you both would argue in the past he wouldn't dare look at you with malice; but now it was as if the pressure of supporting the family, his growing bloodlust, and your relationship was starting to weigh on him - turning him into a selfish monster.

"Remmi, you don't mean that..." You whispered. He was probably just exhausted from the intense feelings that plagued his mind and the words he spoke were just a result of his fatigue and not what he truly felt - that's what you hoped it was.

"Oh, but I do. I'm tired of runnin', I'm tired of hidin'. You might be fond of dropping everythin' and givin' up when things get hard - but I ain't doing it anymore! I've done it too much, they're just gonna have to kill me - I ain't goin' anywhere!"

"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna waste away gettin' sick off blood until they find you - until they torture and kill you?" You cried out as you reached for his touch again, this time he didn't pull away, but he didn't lean into your palms like he'd always do. He just sat there stock still and his eyes refuse to look into yours - he was stonewalling you, and it stung worse than being caught in the sunlight.

"W-What about me? You promise you'd take care of me, and now you're talkin' about throwin' it all away. Remmi, I know you're afraid--"

"I ain't afraid, never was - never will be..." He muttered, but you knew he was lying, you could feel the fear spill off of him, crashing into you like a tidal wave. His calloused blood soaked hand he held onto your jaw with a vice grip, you knew if you were still human the grip he had on your face would've shattered your bones. Your tearful eyes stared deeply into his vacant irises as he spoke.

"You think you know me? You don't have a goddamn clue, darlin'. How could you possibly understand the hell I'm livin' in, how much death I've seen, how many people I killed? My family - not this make believe group that claim to love me - my actual family died by the hands of people who thought they knew better!" Remmick shouted as he pulled you closer towards his face; bloody lips ghosted above yours and feral eyes peered back into your soft gaze.

"You don't know a damn thing and you never will. You're just some preacher's wife that got bored with herself and decided to fuck a vampire." He whispered into your open mouth and when he finished getting his point across he pushed you away as if you were invading his personal space. You shook your head in disgust, you couldn't believe that the man you're in love with - that you were so devoted to could say such cruel things about you with ease.

"...You're an asshole, Remmick. A pathetic fool, it's a damn shame that it took you killin' me to realize that." You bitterly chuckled as you steadied yourself onto your knees, grabbing the brown coat you'd always wear when leaving the van you shared with the vampire.

"All that shit that you're sayin' about not understanding you...It's bullshit, Remmick, and you know it is. Actin' as if I don't know what it feels like to see my own family persecuted and treated less than - as if I haven't experienced my own loved ones being murdered by people who think they're God's gift to humanity, knowin' damn well they ain't nothin' but terrors," you muttered out, shrugging on the leather jacket you pulled yourself off the ground, not giving Remmick a single look as you waltz towards the door. "How could you say such things to me?"

"Where you goin'?" he asked, but you didn't reply.

"I said: where you goin'?"

"I'm leavin'! I ain't staying here to get berated by you. If you have a death wish; that's fine by me but you ain't draggin' me down with you - not anymore." You seethed out. It was your turn to glare at him and with a snarl of your lips you reached for the door, but before you could grab onto the handle Remmick pulled you away from the exit by your shoulder, forcing you to turn and face him.

"You ain't goin' no where." He demanded as he pulled you close against his blood soaked chest, the red crimson now smearing on the sheer dress you wore. You turned your head to look away from him - but with rough hands he forced your gaze to land on him - his hand resting on your jaw again.

"Remmick, let go of me!" You pleaded, fighting against his strong arms as he held you in place.

"You think leavin' me is that easy? T-That I'll let you just walk away after the shit we've been through, the moments we shared?!" He asked in a harsh tone that sent shivers down your spine, you couldn't believe it - just a second ago it seemed like he could care less about your presence; that you were nothing but a stranger - but now here he was trying to force you to stay with him.

Your 'relationship' was sickly comical at this point.

"Let me go!" You shouted and your fists tried and failed to push him off of you. He shook his head and the look of confusion warped his handsome features; as if you'd said something so offensive.

"You're not leavin' me. I won't allow that!" He muttered and the sting of his arms wrapping tightly around your torso made you snap. Without thinking you laid a hard, open palm smack against his cheek which made him instinctively let go of you.

Your body was shaking like a leaf in the wind as the sound of Remmick groans echoed through you. Never in your life would you have dreamed of slapping Remmick - but it happened and the sensation of guilt tugged at your undead heart. Before you could whisper out a meek apology, Remmick's groans turned into whimpers as he fell to his knees.

"Oh, god...What am I doin'? What's wrong with me?" He asked to himself, his once controlling power trip crumbled away like ashes in the wind and the emotions of shame came rushing in with force. He was snapped back into the harsh reality that he desperately tried to avoid - desperately tried to ignore. The overwhelming feelings of isolation and loss that he suppressed for centuries overflowed from him and his hunched shoulders began to shake.

He was crying.

Dropping towards the floor you pulled Remmick closer towards you, his head resting in the crook of your neck while your hands rubbed small circles on his back. His body shook violently as his cries muffled on the skin of your neck.

"I'm sorry, baby." You whispered with a loving hand stroking his dark hair, the small curls coiling between your fingers as you scratched his scalp in an attempt to ease his cries. It pained you to see him get this way - how far he strayed, it made you wonder how long he kept his true feelings hidden away from you.

"I'm sorry, fuck! I'm so damn sorry...I'll do better - I'll be better, it's just...I'm so alone, I feel like I'm trapped here; like I can't breathe - I'm drownin', baby. I've been fightin' for so damn long and for what? Seein' the world just move on, leavin' me behind in the dust?" He whimpered out. His strong arms clung onto your frame for dear life, as if saying these words would make you realize just how lost and broken he is. That you'd come to your senses and cut your loses - leaving him behind for bigger and better things.

Something more stable.

"Remmi, I think you've out grown this place - we've out grown this place. Come with me, let's start over, you won't ever have to be alone again," you said with a breathy sigh, and with gentle hands you held his face - as if he was made out of porcelain that could shatter under your touch. "You're my family - you're all I got. Didn't we promise each other we'd be together forever?"

Remmick rested his forehead on yours, nodding in agreement with the words you said.

"You're the best thing that happened to me, pretty girl. If I lose you I don't know what I'll do." He mumbled and the southern facade washed away and his natural Irish accent cut through the tension between you two. For the first time in years since turning you he called you by your nickname without the expectation of getting something out of you.

It was genuine, it was soft, it was full of love.

Just like all those years ago.

You gazed into his dark eyes, those once burning red irises were now a muted brown. Your Remmi was back - if only for a short time. Placing a soft kiss on his lips you cupped his bloody face in your hand, your thumb tracing shapes on his cold skin. The taste of metallic blood filled your mouth - urging you to deepen the kiss. Both of your tongues danced with each other in sync and his sharp canines bumped into yours, he wanted to taste you; no he needed to taste you. Blood that coved his mouth now smeared onto your lips and your hands gently pushed him onto his back - your lips not pulling away from each other.

With strong legs you straddled his waist, your body pressing flush against his; pinning the vampire against the floor with your heaving chest. Remmick pulled at your jacket that hung over your shoulders, removing the leather off of your body - tossing it to the side as if it was never meant to be worn. You grinded your aching core against his clothed bulge that rested in his jeans, your panties already soaking with anticipation - with desire.

"Lemme show you how much you mean to me, Remmi." You moaned out in his mouth which earned an eager groan of acknowledgment from him. His cold and powerful hands held onto your waist, moving your hips, grinding your wet sex against his stiffing member, he wanted to be inside of you badly - to be as close as he can with you. It was teetering on the bordar of need rather than yearning.

You were his missing piece - his second half that he didn't realize that he missed. He was mentally kicking himself at the idea of mistreating you; he was too comfortable with you always being by his side that he forgot you're not like the members of your makeshift family.

And you're not like him.

You were strong enough to leave; you were strong enough to move on from the pain. And he loved that about you, yet half of him envied it. He had hoped he'd gain that self-assured mentality when he bit you.

But he didn't.

That was a characteristic trait that couldn't be duplicated - not even with the strongest of hive minds.

Pulling away from his lips your eyes peered into his, as if you were trying to read his scattered mind. You knew him better than he knew himself - you knew what he truly needed. Your kisses trialed over his cheek, jaw, neck, and bloodied chest - stopping at his toned abdomen. Drool slipped out of the side of your open mouth as your knowing hands unbuckled the belt that held his pants tightly around his hips, Remmick groaned under your touch as you slipped your hands in his pants, feeling his already hard cock strain against his boxers.

Squeezing your legs together to ease the unbearable ache within your core, you began to pump his dick in your hand - his precum creating a natural lubricant. His hips pathetically bucked in your hand and his face twisted in intense pleasure. Moans, whimpers, and promises of being a better man fell from his lips as your experienced hands worked over his throbbing cock. Your head rested on his muscular torso - your once natural irises flicked into a pale white color.

"Tell me how much you love me." You demanded as you watched his chest rise and fall heavily as if he'd been running for hours.

"I love you so much, pretty girl! Fuck! I love you more than life itself." He moaned as he fucked into the palm of your hand. The sound of his Irish twang made your pussy throb with each moan that escaped his lungs. With a free hand you slipped off his jeans and boxers, his lower half now nude. Your drooling mouth hovered over his throbbing cock, your cold breath brushing against his member made Remmick shiver in agonizing pleasure.

He needed you more than you needed him.

And he finally realized that.

With a slow, long lick your tongue ran from the base of his dick towards the tip, stopping at the hypersensitive skin. Wrapping your mouth around the tip - you sucked - hollowing your cheeks as your tongue swirled around head of his cock. Remmick's head whipped back and his eyes shut at the sensation of your mouth on his member. His calloused hand held your hair in a tight fist - making sure the strands of your hair wouldn't get in the way of your movements.

His sharp teeth that was covered in blood shined in the moonlight that crept through the windows, his mouth hanging slack as you took more of him inside of your mouth until his hard cock reached the back of your throat. The muscles underneath the pale skin of his abdomen twitched, and you ran a soothing touch on his abs. You continued your movements, bobbing your head up and down his member - tasting him on your tongue as his dick twitched in your mouth. The sounds of you sucking and licking him echoed off of the walls, encouraging you to keep going.

So you did.

He was close - you could tell.

Pulling your mouth away from his member that was soaked with your saliva you spoke: "You gonna come already? You didn't even fuck me yet..."

"Ugh, I-I'm tryin' to hold on, baby. You just feel...Too damn good." He replied with a breathy tone, his dark eyes staring into your pale vampiric irises - his own drool clinging to his lips and a mixture of spit and blood stained the skin of his neck and adam's apple. Pulling your hand away from his cold body he groaned out desperately as his body twitched under your frame.

Crawling towards his neck you bit his golden chain, pulling the jewelry between your sharp teeth - teasing him as he imagined that the necklace was his tongue. Sucking the blood that stuck to the chain you released the jewelry from your mouth, a mischievous smile danced across your swollen lips, and you placed a fevered kiss onto Remmick's open mouth - tasting himself on your tongue he pressed you closer by the back of your head. His teeth biting your lips and tongue, drawing the blood from your mouth.

Looking down Remmick's hands helped you move your cotton panties to the side, exposing your wet pussy against the icy skin of his lower torso. You moaned at the feeling of his skin against yours and your hands rested on his chest - gripping the white bloodstained wife beater in tight fists. Lifting you up slightly with strong forearms; Remmick positioned himself towards your entrance. Your breath hitched in your chest at the feeling of his thick cock entering you.

Lowering yourself onto him Remmick bit his lip at the feeling of your soft pussy wrapping around him, it felt like heaven - it felt like home.

Your hips rocked as you began to bounce on his dick, the sweet feeling of satisfaction of being filled by your lover raced through your body. Remmick's hands rested on your hips as he help you keep up a steady pace in fucking him. You threw your head back as your chest heaved heavily - moans of his named echoed through the van. Your nails dug into skin of his chest and he hissed in pain with a mixture of pleasure.

"I'll be better, baby. I'll be good..." Remmick whined as his hips bucked into you. With rough hands he held on your wrist, turning your open palm towards his face. The same palm that you would slice open to feed him during summer nights all those years ago. Kissing the raised scar that lingered on your hand. The feeling of his soft lips and tongue rubbing against the keloid scar was enough to put you over the edge. Your head flung forwards as his free hand held onto the back of your neck, a supportive thumb traced small shapes against your cold and undead skin.

"Come for me - use me, pretty girl." He muffled out against your hand and with shaking legs you came on his dick, his hips still rocking into your core as he chased after his own orgasm. The feeling of your underwear - now soaked with your juices - rubbed against his dick pleasantly. The soft fabric adding a slightly overbearing sensation with your wet pussy tightly gripping onto him with vigor. A long cry of your name; Remmick came soon after you - filling your spent pussy with his seed. You fell limp onto his chest and your head buried deep in the crook of his neck. With Remmick still sheathed inside of you he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your body close to him.

"We'll leave tomorrow night," he mumbled into your hair and you closed your eyes at his words. "I'm ready to start livin' my life again."

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Your body laid stiff as cold sweats woke you from your 'sleep' and the muffled sounds of cars driving over dried dirt reverberated through the thick air within the van you rested in. All you wore was Remmick's button up denim shirt - and the sound of gun shots and screams made you jump up from the mattress, not bothering to dress yourself. Searing hot pain shot through your body as you shuffled through the dark, your eyes staring out of the dirty window.

Shock and fear coursed in your icy half naked body - they were here - they found you just as you predicted. But you couldn't have known they'd attack in the middle of the night. Vampire hunters quickly dispatched the members of your family; driving stakes through their cold hearts, setting fires to tents, baptizing them with putrid garlic water.

"Remmi!" You shouted as your eyes desperately looked around in the darkness and your hands reached towards the empty side of the bed. He wasn't there - in fact Remmick wasn't even in the shared van. Worry pricked at your chest and without thinking you opened the door of the Volkswagen; stumbling into chaos as the sight of vampire hunters and members of your family killing each other. With a shaky cry you shouted out Remmick's nickname again; you hoped that he wasn't within the frenzy of the fight - maybe he left before things got too bad?

Before you could scream out his name again; a painful grip on the back of your neck pulled you close and your body slammed against the man that held you by the throat like you were a rabid dog.

"You! I remember you - I saw you in town, luring a boy here into this...Slaughterhouse," the hunter spat bitterly within your ear and his fingernails dug deep within your skin. Normally you could've easily push a human off of you - but his hands were covered in garlic juice - rendering your strength. "Monster! Death is too good for you!"

"Let go of me!" You shouted as you fought against the harsh grasp of his hand, but that only earned a bitter chuckle from the vampire slayer. Your eyes flicked towards the wooden stake that he held in his grasp and you knew he was planning on ending you. Closing your eyes you shouted out a plea - but it was ignored.

Rising the wooden stake high above your heart, you awaited for the weapon to plunge into your chest.

But it didn't happen.

A sister within your family snuck behind the hunter, clinging onto his back like a leech and drank brutally from his neck - the grip on your body loosen and you pushed yourself out of the man's arms, landing on the hard earth beneath you. Your hands stung as small rocks pierced into your skin from pushing yourself off of the ground - something within your body told you to run - so you did.

Pushing pass the chaos and flames that erupted through the makeshift camp, your legs pumped your weight, making your way to the wooded tree line - away from the burning tents that you once called home. But before you could make it towards safety a loud bang cut through the screaming like a sharp knife and the burning sensation course through your spine.

You've been shot in the back.

"Shit!" You screamed and you began tumbling over yourself falling down a steep hill, rolling over sticks and jagged rocks until your body crashed into the murky swamp water that resided at the foot of the hill with a loud splash. The sour water filled your lungs and burned your open wounds - but you knew if you stayed here any longer the hunters would find you - dragging you out of the stale water and ending your undead life.

"Remmick!" You shouted as you swam to the shore with sore limbs.

No answer.

You scanned your brain that was connected to his, trying to see where he was - if he was safe.

Silence.

The denim shirt clung to your wet body, slimy water and thick moss stuck to your face and hair, pushing pass the trees and thick shrubbery; creating distance between you and the vampire hunters that stalked you down like prey, the moonlight shining a pathway for you as you stumbled through the woods. Anxiety enveloped your entire being as you continued to call out for Remmick - you've never been alone with your thoughts in decades and the cold realization of being isolated in the woods without your lover made you tremble with fear.

Is this what Remmick felt? Being tossed into the 'real' world without a guiding hand to help you - to be truly on your own.

"Please...Please, come back to me!" You begged, but your plea was met with frogs croaking and cicadas singing within the darkness.

Remmick was gone...And you were alone.

All alone.

[adore-laur]

hiii lovely i don’t know if you take requests but if you do please can we have an angsty piece for dadrry, like i know we had the christmas fight but like maybe h says something super mean to yn during an argument or he’s been super busy with work and he ends up being neglectful and stuff, and like i wanna see the groveling!!! it’s just a request if you don’t do angst i get it, but i would really love to see it !! no pressure tho xx

NEED YOU NOW

——

The time was 7:55 p.m., nearly three hours past when Harry had promised to be home. The plate of food you had made him sat cold on the countertop. It’d been his to make, but when you heard that he was staying late at the restaurant, you threw a quick meal together that was subpar even by your standards.

Truthfully, you were livid. Harry's paid paternity leave expired a week ago, and he was already breaking promises. I will always be home for dinner, he had vowed when you began to dread the day he put his white chef coat back on and left you to parent alone. Remarkably, he had upheld it thus far. You just didn't think he would let it collapse so soon.

You stewed over it in bed while trying—and failing—to put your four-month-old daughter down to sleep. It was the first time you had to do it by yourself, and to say it was shaping up to be a colossal catastrophe was an understatement. You didn't possess Harry's deep, soothing voice that was practically a lullaby of its own, nor did you possess his natural, rhythmic hip sway while rocking her to sleep. So, yes, there was a tiny kernel of resentment building pressure inside of you because of your shortcomings as a parent, and it could explode any second now. Because missing dinner was one thing, but missing the baby's bedtime? Outrageous.

Restless cries rattled around the room as her body squirmed in the bedside bassinet. The probability of you joining in on her meltdown was soaring higher as the sky darkened. Nothing you were doing was successful in calming her conniption—not nursing, ocean air, white noise, or even her trusty pacifier could settle those high-pitched wails that simultaneously broke your heart and frazzled your nervous system beyond its regular state. You were determined to remedy the situation as a perfectly capable mother, but in your heart of hearts, you knew that sometimes you weren't the needed parent. Tonight, Harry was the desired nurturer. And he wasn't here.

With clammy palms, you surrendered your pride and unlocked your phone to call Harry. The last text he had sent was at 4:37. It read: I won't be home until late tonight. Don't know what time. I'm sorry. Out of frustration, you had left him with no response.

The ringing tone droned, and you held no hope that he'd answer. Realistically, there was no open opportunity to take a phone call in a fast-paced restaurant kitchen. The cogs needed to be moving at all times—otherwise, the wheel would splinter. You had accepted it years ago.

When you first started dating Harry, it had been strenuous finding time for each other. On a lucky day, you'd talk to him during his lunch break. Weekends bestowed the moments that made the relationship flourish. It should have gotten more manageable after many years, but as a new mother, it wasn't something you could handle like a champ anymore.

Therein lay the problem: You had become too comfortable with having Harry home for twelve weeks. Calibrating to the changes that parenthood presented was much easier with a dedicated husband ready to face them with you. It had been a luxury to be a team from sunrise to sunset and every nocturnal hour that you both spent devoid of energy. Your steadfast lover, now far away from you.

"Hello?"

You jolted, surprised to hear Harry's voice. It caused relief and rage to clash within you—not a pleasurable combination. "How much longer are you working?"

His sigh was smothered by scattered voices speaking in the background and kitchenware clanging noisily. "I don't know. We're finishing the dinner rush, and there's still loads of cleaning to do. Trust me, I've been trying to make an exit for the past two hours, but the orders keep coming."

"I need you here, Harry," you said shakily. "I can't do this by myself."

"Do what by yourself? What's going on?"

Rage won the internal battle and staked its claim over your sensibility. "Seriously? I have a baby that won't stop crying, a husband that has been missing in action for the past three hours, and I'm on the verge of a mental breakdown."

"You never texted me back," Harry said, sounding like his focus was split half on the conversation and half on whatever task he was doing. "Have you tried walking her around outside? Maybe some fresh air will help."

You stood and started pacing around the room. "I tried that. I need your help. She wants nothing to do with me."

"Honey, I... I can't right now. I have to be here."

"Please," you begged, panic crawling up your throat. Could he even hear the baby crying on your end? How could he possibly understand your crisis through a muddled phone call? "I'm telling you I need you now."

"And I'm telling you I have a kitchen to run," he replied firmly. His tone softened when he added, "If I could leave right now, I would. It's just not viable when it's been this busy."

You stayed silent, chewing on his weak explanation. All your pent-up exasperation was simmering and had nowhere to go, so you infused your next words with it. "You're being neglectful."

"What?" Harry said. You could picture him with that cute little divot between his eyebrows, except the reasoning behind it wasn't so cute this time. "Wait, hold on, hold on. Say that again? Shit, I can't focus." A loud clattering of metal punctuated his rambling.

There was no fight left in you. Numbly, you walked over to the bay window and watched the ocean tide swell under the moon. "Never mind. Go finish what's clearly more important."

"Listen, it's hard to hear you in here. Can I call you back in... um, I don't know, fifteen minutes?" He didn't seem angry and didn't sense the urgency you were conveying. He just seemed distracted, and it felt like a bruising kick while you were already down.

"Bye, Harry." You hung up, not regretting your stubbornness. His communication during the day had been meager. He should have known to keep you in the loop after three hours of waiting for him to come home. You had hung on by a thread and wondered if this would become the norm. You thought he was done with his old tendencies of being a yes-man.

What mattered to you the most was that Harry knew when to put family first, and tonight, you and your daughter were put on the back burner.

With two tears slipping down your cheeks, you succumbed to the feeling of utter helplessness.

——

Harry unlocked the front door, trying to recall the last time he had come home at nine-thirty at night. Surely months ago, when you were heavily pregnant and couldn't sleep. He used to take you for slow drives around the neighborhood and play with your hair in hopes of lulling you into a deep slumber. Worked like a charm every time.

God, he knew you were pissed at him. He was in the doghouse for good reason. Usually, you'd greet him at the door, happy to see him. Now, the quiet bounced off the walls uncannily.

He had barely been able to concentrate on anything while in the thick of dinner service. Too many stressors flew around the kitchen like bullets. It had been the absolute worst moment to respond to your panicked phone call. Why had he said yes to staying late? The agreement was to work from seven to five, Tuesday through Friday. He failed you today, and it killed him.

Ever since the baby was born, Harry had turned into a homebody. He loved seeing every room hold signs of his little girl. Milk bottles in the refrigerator; tiny onesies in the washer; storybooks on the nursery's rocking chair; the tummy time mat on the living room carpet; the foldable bathtub in the kitchen sink (he planned to research if adults could use baby shampoo since the smell was irresistible). He had gotten so attached to the routine that it came as no surprise: his first week back at work had been hell. He had messed up several times, struggling to get back in the groove. His hands moved slower, his mind on overload as he played catch-up with the twelve weeks he missed. Everything there felt foreign, and it sparked a realization that nothing came as close to feeling natural as being a dad did.

Harry shook his head to clear the tornado whirling around his brain and turned on the kitchen light. He immediately spotted his plate of dinner waiting for him, a depressing reminder of his broken vow.

An awful feeling sank like a stone in his stomach. This was all wrong. It was supposed to go like this: Harry, ravenous and in dire need of affection, would arrive home at five, the sun still shining. He would kiss you in the foyer as you passed over his daughter. She would coo happily, the weight of her in his arms a precious comfort. He'd then carry her and entertain her with silly voices and other theatrical dad antics before getting started on cooking dinner. Then the night would slowly progress, and as everyone's eyes grew heavy with sleep, he'd wait until you were done nursing before burping a full-bellied baby and setting her in the bassinet.

And who was to blame for blowing that beautiful sequence to smithereens? This guy.

When Harry reached the hallway, he shivered. Was the window open? There was a chilly draft floating around, and when he peeked his head past the bedroom doorway, his assumptions were proven correct. There you were on the cushioned windowsill seat, the glittering moonlight illuminating your sleeping frame as you held his baby girl against your chest. She was asleep as well, with her limbs tucked all cozily in your motherly embrace. Harry just stood and watched for a minute, the day's stress cascading off his shoulders. Home. This was what remained the most paramount part of his life. He needed to apologize before you formed a grudge.

He didn't want to wake you or the baby, especially considering the overwhelming night you had helmed, so he hopped in the shower to contemplate the best way to handle... whatever had occurred over the phone. Harry knew that the postpartum phase was treating you roughly—your anxiety was a tight rubber band ready to snap at any moment. He hadn't fully grasped the reality of you doing the bedtime routine alone. How hard it probably had been with a baby experiencing major sleep regression. He'd thought your using the word neglectful was harsh, but it was fair.

With a cleansed body and mind, Harry exited the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. The breeze blowing in from the open window was too brisk for his liking, so he walked over and reached past you to close it. It squeaked, and he winced when you stirred awake. He stalled his movements as you came into consciousness, slowly and with weariness.

How motherhood looked on you was a thing of beauty. Even in the most ordinary moments, you were radiant, emanating warmth and solace. You were this family's guiding light.

Eventually, you swung your legs over the edge of the windowsill seat and stared at him blankly. Guilt struck Harry speechless, and all he could do was sink to his knees and press his face into your shin, like Stephan Sinding's Adoration. "Please forgive me, baby," he murmured, kissing your almond-scented skin. "I'm so sorry. There's no excuse."

When you remained silent, Harry lifted his face and looked at you. The sight of your expression crumpling and tears welling in your eyes shattered his heart. He got up to sit beside you, pulling you and your daughter into a remorseful hug. "I've made you cry. I'm awful, aren't I?"

You sniffled. "No, you're not. I just don't understand."

"Can I try to explain?" he asked.

You nodded and let your head fall limply on his shoulder. Harry was grateful you weren't shunning him. After pressing a soft kiss to your temple, he said, "You needed me tonight, and I fell short as your husband and as her father." He stroked his baby girl's back, his palm nearly covering the entirety of it. "It was an unexpectedly chaotic day at work, and I... I don't know, it's like I forgot how to hold the reins. All my skill retention just vanished. It was bizarre, and I'm sure it has to do with being sleep-deprived, but it shouldn't have pushed me to stay late. I should've put our family first, and I'm sorry you felt neglected. That wounds me to hear that." He grabbed your hand and held it against his heart, leaning down to kiss your knuckles tenderly. "So, from now on, I will be home for dinner. I will be here for bedtime. I will be here when you need me, for whatever reason. Because when you hurt, I hurt. And I don't ever want to make you feel like that again. Don't want you to doubt starting a family with me."

You were crying against his neck, and Harry couldn't tell if it was a good or bad sign. Every word he had said was honest. Poured straight from his soul. It was a vow to be better and to learn from his mistakes. The adjustment from a blissful four months experiencing fatherhood at home to transitioning right into a forty-hour workweek had been messy, and it still would be in the weeks to come, so he hoped you understood that he was trying. It would all balance out soon enough. It just took time.

"Talk to me, sweetheart," Harry whispered to you. His daughter was making whiny noises now, so he carefully took her from your arms and cuddled her close. It felt like his vital purpose.

Meanwhile, you inhaled a few deep breaths to collect yourself. Your hand gripped the towel around his waist, and you gasped before saying, "This whole time, I thought you were naked."

He laughed, thankful for the brief levity. "I think you're still dreaming, sleepyhead." A small smile lifted your lips, and he had no choice but to kiss them. He'd been gone for far too long today.

"I forgive you," you said quietly. "I trust that you won't let this become a habit. I think there were heightened emotions from both of us, for valid reasons, and I found it hard to communicate exactly what I needed."

"You needed me," Harry replied, feeling guilt creep its way back into his mind.

"I know, but I can't always expect you to drop everything when you're needed elsewhere. That's not fair."

He nodded. "Still, you're my partner. It's my responsibility to make you feel adored, and since I blundered that today, how about if I take all the night shift duties this weekend?"

Your eyes fluttered shut, relief softening your facial features. "That would make me feel very adored."

"Yeah?" He kissed your forehead. "And since tomorrow's Saturday, I think I'll treat you to breakfast in bed."

You hummed, pleased as punch. "Tell me more."

"We'll sit on the porch swing and drink coffee," he continued, the domestic visualization sending a rush of heat through him. "Watch the sunrise and listen to the mourning doves."

"No, I meant tell me more about treating me to things in bed."

"Oh, my sincerest apologies," Harry said with an amused laugh. "Are we talking about innocent bed activities, or...?"

You were in a reverie, no doubt thinking of not-so-innocent activities. "Remember our wedding night when we tried using that—" A sudden and sharp wail sliced through your sentence, and in Harry's mind, he caught a brief flash of the memory: you, perched seductively on the living room sofa in the newly purchased beach house, more breathtaking than the ocean view in the distance. Harry, unable to believe he had found you and got to treasure your love for life. And yeah... he couldn't possibly forget that ridiculous toy he'd been gifted with at his bachelor party. Moving on.

"Let's all get some sleep so we can act alive tomorrow," Harry said. When he stood to start rocking the baby, the loosened towel dropped to the floor, leaving him stark naked in the moonlight. You giggled, and the sound was like a shot of bliss straight into his veins. He laughed too, drowsiness finally hitting him. It would be a long night ahead, and although he would likely rack up a measly four hours of sleep, knowing he’ll wake up beside you and have only dad-related obligations for the next three days made it sound peachy.

For the first time that day, a sense of calmness washed over him. Home, sweet home.

——

[alice-angel12x]

The Blue Knight Ch.8

Truth and Lies arc

Ch. 7/ Ch. 9

A land of burning sands and spice winds, Tall mountains that meet the clouds. At the very top, a bagoda could be seen. A heavenly garden, surrounded by strange sugar monsters.

The Scout team had traveled far and wide over beast yeast, locating man lactions ruled by the beast cookies. But they made sure to keep a safe distance away. Writing down all they could observe, identifying the monsters, and locating the beasts.

Till they finally reached the last corner of Beast Yeast. A strange place that seemed to be in a perpetual night. A place full of strange beasts and people. People who really seemed to enjoy lying to anyone.

Outside of the fairy kingdom, beast yeast is not a safe place. I hope this report reaches you, Pure Vanilla. And by the time you read this, we will be back in Crispia.

Sincerely,

Y/n Knight Cookie.

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

"There we go," Y/n sighed as they finished sealing the report.

Y/n turned to one of Raisin Cookie's trusted crows. Just as they were about to hand the letter over, chaos erupted in the camp. Creatures large, small, and long. All creatures of black and blue attacked.

The crow, in a panic, flew off dropping Y/n's letter in the forest. Y/n drew their sword and charged the enemy.

"Retreat to the fairy kingdom! I'll cover you!" Y/n commanded as they slice down the monsters.

The able-bodied helped the wounded evacuate, as one of them activated the moon stone. Opening a portal to the fairy kingdom, as the scout party funnels through.

Y/n, seeing that most of the scout party was through, cast a giant blast of blue fire as they turned to make for the portal.

"Hurry!" The cookie from the other side of the portal cried out.

Y/n picked up their pace when a tentacle of darkness wrapped around their ankle. Suddenly, more wrapped around them, their arm, torso, and face. As it began to pull them to the ground.

The last thing Y/n could see was the horrified faces of the scouts as the portal closed, and they were dragged away.

"I found you! Oh, I can't wait to see poor pure Vanilla's face when his favorite pal is gone!" A familiar voice chuckled.

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

Back in Crispia (The Vanilla Kingdom)

10 months after the scouts returned, Pure Vanilla received the bad news. Black Raisin watched her friend closely. In public or when in sight of others. He would put on a face and act as if he is recovering.

But when he is alone, the world seems to dim. He wanders the castle, the garden of lilies. He would stare and sit close to the lone Blue lily in the tiny garden of white.

Black Raisin Cookie had to make sure he was eating properly throughout the day. If left alone, the poor king would not eat. He would simply stare at the empty chair across from him, and they were supposed to sit there.

One can only wonder how he mustered the strength to smile and be brave for the people. When inside, all he wished was to have his beloved knight back in his arms.

Yet he was... Not. Alone. As the poor king tossed and turned in bed, the soul jam was there to witness. The beast was giddy in delight at his other half's misery.

________________________________________________________

In a blink, he wasn't looking at pure vanilla. But his lovely guest is high in the spire's tower.

"I hope my guest enjoys their sweet room. They're lucky I was feeling generous with them," Shadow milk cookie smirks.

"Master shadow milk, I fear I don't quite understand your scheme here. You had them where you wanted them; why not crumble them?" Black Sahire Cookie asked.

"Simple, there are just too many possibilities on how to cause the most distress for Pure Vanilla. I could simply keep them out of reach, steal them away, maybe even turn her into a minion of deceit. So many choices," Shadow Milk smirks.

Shadow Milk vanishes into the shadow, leaving Black Sapphire and the all-seeing orb. When Candy Apple Cookie kicks open the door. Probably looking for Shadow Milk Cookie.

"Ew, who's that?" Candy Apple Cookie asks.

"Our Master's Guest," Black Sapphire explains simply.

"For how long?" Candy Apple whined. "Guests need so much attention. Attention that should be mine."

"For as long as the master allows, I suppose," Black Sapphire shrugs.

Candy Apple huffs in annoyance, as long as they don't keep Shadow Milk's attention for too long. Then it's fines. She thinks to herself.

"So what's so special about them. They look so ... Plain and boring," Candy Apple comments.

"Well, they are Pure Vanilla's lover, so Master Shadow Milk wants to keep them forever apart," Black Sapphire says.

"Wow, boring Cookies like other boring cookies. Whatever, I'm going to find my pretty shadow Milk cookie," She sighs and skips off.

Black Saphire sighs as he looks back at the all seeing orb. "I guess it could be fun breaking them down before Pure vanilla arrives," Black Sapphire smirks. Deciding to pay a visit to the guest.

________________________________________

Are You Ready for Shadow Milk and Minion Shinanagins!! Sorry for the short chapter. I didn't just wanna cut to the next arc. I need to ease into it.

Anyways, I will try to keep updating/ flush out the story. Hitting 300 notes will expedite the next chapter's release ( higher priority).

So see yeah soon.

[secretlittlerandezvous]

Package Deal - Will SMith

Summary: Y/n was a young single mom just trying to get through until she met Will. Now, months later, he wants to make it official by inviting them both to this game.

Words: 1404

Note: I just had to write this with Will 🥲

The apartment was quiet, except for the low hum of lullaby music drifting from the Bluetooth speaker in the corner. The living room was dimly lit, scattered with baby toys, a half-folded blanket, and a bottle that had rolled off the couch. It looked lived-in, a little chaotic but warm. Safe.

Y/n stood in the doorway to the nursery, watching with a full heart as Will paced slowly with her baby girl nestled into his shoulder, humming gently.

“She’s out,” he whispered, smiling as he turned to her.

Y/n chuckled, walking over and pressing a soft kiss to the baby’s head. “You’ve got magic in your arms. She always sleeps better on you.”

Will gave her that familiar grin, crooked, boyish, laced with a little disbelief. “Still can’t believe this is real,” he murmured.

Neither could she, sometimes. Well, most of the time.

Because there were nights and not that long ago when she had curled up alone on this very couch, a hand on her pregnant belly, crying and wondering how she was going to do this. She was young. Still figuring herself out. And the father? He bailed out the second the pregnancy test turned positive. Said he “wasn’t ready,” as if she was.

But she got ready.

She got through the ultrasounds and checkups alone. Bought the crib alone. Walked out of the hospital with a newborn in her arms and no one to hand the car keys to. There were tears. So many tears. So many hours of wondering if her life had ended or just begun. Countless days of crying in desperation while the baby cried too.

And then Will happened.

They met by chance. Her best friend had dragged her to a mutual friend’s party, promising “just one hour” of socialization would do her good. She hadn’t worn makeup in weeks or had her hair properly styled. It’s been long months since she last saw herself in a nice dress. She felt quilt, quilt of leaving her baby alone while she was going to have fun. Worried sick something would happen, and she wouldn’t be there with her. She almost turned around in the parking lot. But she went ahead.

And then Will had walked up to her, beer in one hand, that easy boyish smile in place.

He tried to flirt. She laughed and told him she had to be home before 10. He joked “are you a Cinderella or something?”. She smiled shaking her head no, her daughter would be up for her next feed.

She thought he’d back off. All guys did.

He froze for a moment, sorting his thoughts, figuring out what that meant. And when he realized he didn’t back off. He lit up. Asked about her daughter, about her. He asked questions like he cared; not like he was just wanting to talk. He then offered to walk her to her car.

Will hesitated before asking, “So… why the baby’s dad isn’t picking you up?”

She paused, glancing at him, and shook her head. “There’s no dad.”

He smiled to himself, selfishly relieved she was single.

But he didn’t try anything. “Text me if she doesn’t go back to sleep. I’m a great late-night distraction.” And handed her a piece of paper with his phone number.

And he was.

One text turned into two. Then into calls. Then into grocery runs and coffee drop-offs. He asked to meet the baby. He held her like he’d done it his whole life. He was gentle, patient and somehow, never made her feel like she was baggage.

Now, months later, he was holding that same baby girl in her apartment, pressing soft kisses to her forehead as he murmured nonsense about how pretty she was.

“She’s gonna be trouble when she’s older,” Will whispered, settling into the rocking chair. “Just like her mom.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, stifling a smile. “Excuse me?”

“You’re impossible not to fall for,” he said, without hesitation.

She knelt beside him, her head resting on his knee, eyes drifting to their daughter’s tiny face.

“I never thought I’d have this,” she admitted. “I didn’t think anyone would want this.”

Will’s hand moved to her hair. “I didn’t think I’d ever want this so badly.”

….

Y/n adjusted the baby’s soft onesie with one hand and balanced a bottle in the other, seated cross-legged on Will’s couch while he sat beside her in sweats and a hoodie, completely mesmerized.

“Okay, but you have to admit,” Will said with a grin, “she kind of looks like me when she scrunches her nose like that.” He saw himself in her more and more with each day.

Y/n gave him a playful side-eye. “Will, she’s eight months old. She’s allowed to make funny faces unlike you.”

Will leaned over and kissed her cheek anyway, then reached for the tiny girl curled up against Y/n’s chest.

“Hi, little bean,” he whispered, brushing his knuckles softly against her rounded cheek. “You know your mom is the strongest person I know, right?”

Y/n swallowed. It wasn’t the first time Will had said something that left a lump in her throat. Since the beginning, he was never overwhelmed by the reality of her life, never treating her daughter like a burden. He just… stepped in. Kind, present, quietly dependable. And the baby loved him. Her gummy smile always bloomed at the sound of his voice. She slept better in his arms than hers.

That afternoon, as they cleaned up after lunch, Will leaned against the counter and looked over at her, nervous energy buzzing under his skin.

“Hey,” he said. “So… I’ve been thinking.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “That’s dangerous.”

Will laughed, then shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “I want to make this official. Like, not just between us. I want you to come to the game tomorrow.”

She blinked. “You want me there?”

“I want you there. Both of you,” he clarified, gaze softening. “I know it might be loud and crazy but we will get her some of those tiny baby noise-canceling headphones. And you sit near the glass. I just… I want people to know who my girls are.”

Y/n’s heart twisted, melted, reformed.

So, they went.

Game Day.

It was her baby’s first hockey game. First time in a rink that wasn’t a practice skate. First time being introduced to the noise, the lights, the chaos.

Y/n was terrified and excited all at once.

She dressed her daughter in a tiny Sharks jersey with the name Smith on the back, obviously and tucked a pink bow on the headband under her noise-canceling headphones. She looked like a baby influencer, and Y/n had taken at least fifteen photos before they even left the house.

The moment they stepped into the SAP Center, the baby’s eyes went wide with wonder. Y/n bounced her gently, whispering soothing words as the music thumped through the concourse.

Will texted her just before warmups.

“Bring her down by the tunnel if she’s not sleeping. I want her to see the lights.”

And so there they were, front row by the tunnel, pressed against the glass, her daughter blinking slowly and then grinning as the team skated out.

Will spotted them instantly.

His whole face lit up.

He tapped his stick against the glass and mouthed, “MY GIRLS,” before pointing at the baby and miming a heart with his hands.

Y/n blushed but smiled, waving her baby’s tiny hand for her. Will grinned even wider and skated off though she noticed how he kept glancing back.

As the game progressed, Y/n watched with pride swelling in her chest. Every time Will came on the ice, the commentators mentioned his energy, his control.

The Sharks won 4 - 2.

And when they let her back by the tunnel post-game, Will was already waiting, drenched in sweat and full of adrenaline.

He kissed her quickly, then took the baby in his arms.

“She liked it?” he asked, bouncing her.

“She loved it,” Y/n whispered.

Will looked up at her, eyes shining. “Can we frame that picture of her in my jersey? I wanna hang it everywhere possible.”

Y/n laughed. “You’re obsessed.”

“With both of you,” he said simply.

And there, in the concrete tunnel of a roaring stadium, Y/n realized something she hadn’t dared believe before:

She wasn’t just surviving anymore. She was living. She was loved. They were a family.

[kanescrochet]

Stay Away From My Friends

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick X Reader

word count :~2.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You could still hear the last words he said to you, like an echo in a stairwell you never stopped falling down.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

The words hadn’t been whispered or cried. He’d yelled them — sharp, cutting, said like a weapon, not a wound. But they hit like one anyway.

It had started over something small. A missed message. A skipped meal. A curt response over comms. But that was how most endings started — quietly, then all at once. Before either of you could stop it, there were raised voices in your shared quarters, weeks of silence unraveling all at once. Accusations, tears, sharp-edged truths you both regretted saying the second they were out of your mouths.

When Gaz walked out that night, he didn’t slam the door. That would’ve meant he might come back.

He just closed it gently. And never came back through it again.

The worst part was that nothing changed — not really. You were both still part of Task Force 141. You still had to share briefing tables, training sessions, the occasional ride in a cramped transport with three too many people and not enough oxygen to pretend you weren’t aware of his presence.

You got good at ignoring him. He got better at pretending you were never there.

Soap tried to make jokes at first, trying to bring back the ease you used to have together, but even he stopped once he realized how much your silence wasn’t just tension — it was grief. Ghost didn’t ask. Price just watched, always watching, the way someone watches a wound that never quite heals.

You kept it professional. Always professional. Until the op in Berlin.

You and Gaz were split from the rest of the squad after the mission went sideways — the building was rigged, half the comms were dead, and the only shelter was a crumbling shell of an apartment complex.

So, naturally, you ended up stuck in it. Alone. With him.

The air was thick with dust and history, and you didn’t say a word as you dragged yourselves into a room with enough walls still standing to hide behind. Gaz checked the corners. You checked your rage.

He leaned against the wall opposite you, shoulders rising and falling with every breath. He was bleeding from a cut above his eyebrow. You had shrapnel in your thigh. It would’ve been easier to just talk — get through the night, pretend to be teammates.

But it had never been easy with him.

Not since he stopped being just a teammate.

“I’ll take first watch,” you said, voice low.

“I didn’t ask,” he muttered, not looking at you.

You paused. Your fingers twitched around the grip of your sidearm — not in threat, just in habit.

“I wasn’t offering. I was informing you.”

That got his attention. His eyes snapped to yours, dark and tired, full of something you couldn’t name.

“No wonder it didn’t work,” he said.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You never listened,” he continued, standing upright. “You always had to be in control. Even now. Even here.”

Your body tensed. “And you always shut down instead of talking like a goddamn human being.”

That did it.

“Oh, you want to talk now?” he snapped. “After months of freezing me out unless there was a target involved?”

“You froze me out first, Kyle.”

He flinched at the name. No one on the team called him that anymore. Not since you.

You stood up, pain flaring in your leg, but the heat in your chest drowned it out.

“You shut me out after Vienna. You stopped letting me in. I tried—God, I tried, but you acted like I was a burden.”

“Because I was breaking and didn’t want to drag you down with me!” he shouted. “Because every time I looked at you, I saw everything I was failing to be.”

Your breath caught.

He ran a hand down his face, pacing now, too restless to stay still.

“I didn’t know how to fix it,” he said, quieter this time. “So I pushed you away. Because it was easier than watching you stay and start to hate me.”

You stared at him, chest heaving, throat dry.

“I never hated you.”

He looked at you — really looked at you — for the first time in what felt like years.

“I loved you,” you added, voice breaking. “I loved you. And you left like none of it mattered.”

Silence.

Then: “It mattered.”

You turned away, biting your lip hard enough to taste copper. “Then why’d you act like it didn’t?”

His voice came soft, bitter:

“Because I didn’t think I deserved to have something that good.”

The words landed between you like shrapnel.

He stepped closer, carefully, like he wasn’t sure if you’d bolt or break. You didn’t move.

“I was scared,” he said. “Of how much I felt. Of how easy it would be to lose it. Lose you. And when I started losing parts of myself after Vienna... I didn’t want you to see what was left.”

You closed your eyes, forcing air into your lungs.

“I saw it anyway,” you whispered. “And I stayed. You’re the one who walked away.”

Another silence.

He looked down, then nodded once — not in agreement, but in acceptance.

“I know,” he said. “And I’ve thought about it every day since.”

You sat down again, the weight of the night pressing into your bones. He stayed standing, but quieter now, more still.

“I’m not here to ask for anything,” he said after a long pause. “I just needed you to know it wasn’t nothing. You weren’t nothing.”

You didn’t respond. You weren’t ready to.

The night passed in silence, but it wasn’t angry anymore. Just tired.

The extraction came at dawn. Soap’s voice crackled over restored comms, and within an hour, the rest of the team was there. You and Gaz didn’t speak on the ride back. Didn’t sit together. You didn’t need to.

Later that night, back at HQ, you found something tucked into the outer pocket of your gear bag — a folded piece of paper, written in familiar handwriting:

*You didn’t deserve the way I left. You didn’t break us — I did. I’m not asking for anything. Just wanted you to know I never stopped caring.*

You stared at the note for a long time. You didn’t crumple it. Didn’t throw it away.

You didn’t respond, either.

But maybe… not yet.

[mahalachives]

Part 4: The Fic That Broke the Spymaster

Summary: You were just rereading A Court of Thorns and Roses in bed when the universe decided to yeet you straight into Prythian, landing face-first in Rhysand’s lap. Now, you're a pajama-clad disaster with Cheeto fingers, emotionally harassing Azriel, befriending Mor, verbally sparring with the High Lords, and naming feral chickens after the Shadowsinger. You may not know why you’re here, but one thing’s for sure: you’re going to make it everyone's problem.

Oops, I tripped Into Prythian - Masterlist

The shadows should have known better.

He should have known better.

But there it was.

Your phone. Glamour-spelled to work in Prythian thanks to Helion, who declared that “access to filth is a fundamental right”, was in his hands. The screen was glowing softly in the darkness of the library.

Midnight. Silence. A crackling fire.

And one very concerned Shadowsinger, sitting cross-legged with an open mind and so many regrets.

He only meant to scroll.

Just a little.

Just to understand why you'd said things like “Azriel, you’re basically a one-winged angst machine with a six-pack and a tragic backstory, fanfic gold.”

So he clicked one.

One. Single. Fic.

Title: “Darkness Between Us” Tags: Azriel x Reader, Enemies to Lovers, Smut with Feelings, Shadow Play, Wingspan Mentioned Thrice, Emotional Catharsis via Orgasm, 7k words of Eye Contact

He frowned. “Seems… dramatic.”

He started reading.

Five Minutes In

“She gasped as his shadows pinned her wrists to the mattress, cool and alive, like tendrils of pleasure-touched silk-”

Azriel blinked.

Then blinked again.

“…Silk?” he muttered.

One of his actual shadows coiled around his arm, scandalized.

“I don’t do that,” he whispered to it.

It wiggled suspiciously.

Ten Minutes In

“His siphons pulsed in time with her heartbeat, glowing with the force of his restrained desire. He leaned down, voice a velvet growl, ‘Tell me what you want, sweetheart.’”

Azriel made a noise. A sound. Like a dying kettle.

He slammed the phone down, breathing hard.

Looked around the empty room.

Picked the phone back up.

“Cauldron forgive me,” he murmured, and kept reading.

Fifteen Minutes In

“She moaned his name like a prayer, fingers in his hair, dragging him closer as his shadows bound them together like destiny itself. ‘You’re mine, Azriel,’ she cried, ‘and I’m yours.’”

He sat back, stared at the ceiling, and whispered to no one.

“…Am I okay?”

Twenty Minutes In

Azriel slammed the phone face-down on the floor.

Then face-up.

Then face-down again.

He stood. Paced. Sat again.

Tugged at his hair.

Growled softly to himself. “I don’t say things like that. I don’t say ‘Give me all of you, little flame.’ Who wrote this- who talks like this?!”

He scrolled to the bottom of the fic.

Author: ShadowLover420

“Cauldron boil me alive.”

He tapped the comments.

“Azriel can shadowplay me into next week 😩🔥” “THE WINGSPAN?? MA’AM??”

“I blacked out at ‘my light in the darkness’ and woke up engaged.”

He made the mistake of clicking the tag ‘Wingspan Porn’.

Thirty Minutes In

He was lying flat on the library floor, phone balanced on his face, whispering like a man in the throes of war flashbacks.

“They had a chart,” he muttered. “Of relative wing sizes. With math.”

Cassian appeared in the doorway, blinking blearily. “Bro… are you reading fic again?”

Azriel didn’t move. “There was oil. And poetry. In the same scene.”

Cassian wandered over, peered down at the screen. “Ohhh, is this the one where you pin her to the wall with shadows and confess your love while kissing her spine?”

Azriel let out a strangled noise. “You knew?!”

Cassian snorted. “Please. I left a comment. ‘Cassian_69.’ Got 200 likes.”

Azriel stared at him. “You’re the reason this has a sequel.”

Cassian beamed. “You're welcome.”

Five Minutes Later

You entered the library to find Azriel on his back, one arm flung over his eyes, shadows buzzing like disturbed bees. Cassian was wheezing with laughter.

“You wrote this,” Azriel said darkly. “Didn’t you.”

You appeared in the doorway, yawned, stretched. “Wrote what?”

He raised the phone. “‘Whispers in the Shadows’?!”

You blinked at the screen. “Oh, that’s one of my better ones.”

Azriel's soul left his body.

“You wrote yourself kissing me against a window while my shadows tied your ankles to the curtain rod.”

You nodded. “Good imagery, right?”

“There was an entire paragraph about my ‘quietly dominant aura.’”

You grinned. “I stand by it.”

“The shadows formed a BED.”

“They’re creative!”

“And the moonlight was described as ‘jealous’ of your orgasms!”

You clapped your hands. “That was a poetic moment, thank you for noticing-”

Azriel walked out of the room. Slowly. Silently. Dramatically.

Cassian snorted. “He’s going to brood about this for weeks.”

You shrugged, already pulling up your next WIP.

He’d be fine.

Eventually.

Probably.

Two Hours Later

You found a note under your pillow.

It read: “Your metaphors are ridiculous. —Azriel”

P.S. The shadow play wasn’t inaccurate.

You screamed.

Somewhere in the House, Azriel smirked.

To Be Continued.

[frostedsugarcookiehearts]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ you're a part time lover + a whole time friend!

slimecicle donated!

$50

i like yur bow :D

୨ৎ

"aww, char, thank youu! i appreciate it— how are you doing?" a smile spread across your entire face as you situated your co-streamer (fufu, your stuffed bunny plushie) on your lap, ruffling his hair. your eyes raced across the screen, trying to read every single chatter's words. you were actually known on twitch for having one of the more respectful, kind and loving chatters. mostly because your demographic was mostly girls, the lgbtq community + charlie slimecicle.

slimecicle: good !!1!! do you want to hop on the smp??

oh yeah, the smp!! recently chuckle sandwich had decided to create an smp together to fill in videos for when the three of them couldn't all fly out to meet up. they invited you, because you were connected to all three of them. you and ted were mutual friends, and you're the one who inspired his "watching all the barbie movies" video, since you were an avid barbie fan, and you and schlatt had done a stream together a few months ago playing hello kitty island adventure. (also with charlie!)

and then the chuckle smp was born, aka the csmp. many other creators made cameos on the smp, including you! your first day on the smp was as expected— you started making a cute little starter house! schlatt yelled at you though for "raising the property value" of the neighborhood, because all he had made was a dirt shack so far, and he'd been on the smp for like a week!

as you booted up your minecraft (chock-full of shaders), you spawned in your cute little cottage. you hopped on a discord call with charlie as you two joked around and started traveling to find more cherry wood so you could create a little barn for your pink sheep.

"onward! we must commence our journey to find more cherry wood." charlie puts on a mock-serious voice, his minecraft character punching the air as you two started running off in a random direction.

an adorable confused expression crossing your face, your brows knit together and your nose scrunches. "wait, can't we use like, coordinates or something? to find the forest."

charlie lets out a strangled laugh, shaking his head. "that's not how that works, cutie. that's if you already know where it is, but we don't."

"oh!"

he snickers, affectionately rolling his eyes. you two stumble upon a village, and you just fall in love with a cute little calico that's patrolling the rivers near the village. "aww, it's so cute! it's mine now." you cooed, crouching and slowly stalking towards it. you were a little rusty at minecraft and forgot that you're supposed to hold fish to tame a cat, so you accidentally hit it. "NO!" you cried. "i want to tame it!"

charlie, upon hearing this, immediately dives his minecraft character into the lake and finds you fish at a record-breaking pace, running back up to you and handing you three cod. "here. now you can click it, to tame it. you need fish." he assures you gently, smiling to himself.

you do as he said and tame it with one fish! you gasp. "it's meant to be." clapping, you burst into amused giggles. "i'm gonna name him..." you punched a cactus, putting into a furnace and mixing it with white dye. turning the cat's collar green, you proclaim, "charlie."

so (cat) charlie became a permanent fixture on the chuckle smp. he was part of numerous bits and mostly liked to sleep on your pink bed in your cute little cottage. you even made (human) charlie a little room in your house to sleep when he was over. and he was over so much, chat genuinely forgot he had made his own base when he first started the smp. eventually the shipping got so bad that you two decided to get married.

in minecraft, that is! and charlie totally didn't freak out and put on an actual suit, putting on cologne— even though it was over stream— and fixing his hair. he even polished up his glasses for this! ted was charlie's best man while your maid of honor was (cat) charlie, and everyone unanimously decided that schlatt should be the flower girl. and so he was!

you walked down the aisle on a llama (who was canonically your dad), and charlie broke out into a huge, embarrassing grin upon seeing your minecraft character. he was head-over-fucking heels, and it was a little embarrassing. it was a minecraft skin after all, but he knew that you were the face behind it, and that was the best part. sometimes he woke up with a grin on his face from the fact that you even gave him a second look, let alone were his friend!

"do you, charlie slimecicle—" tucker, the officiator, said in a mock deep voice. "take this lovely person here to be your partner forever?"

"i do." his voice wobbled.

a grin spread across your face, and charlie's eyes were locked onto your face cam. you'd also gotten dressed up for the occasion in a cute little white outfit. "and do you take charlie slimecicle to be your partner forever?"

"i do."

tucker grinned, gesturing to charlie's minecraft character. "you may now kiss the groom," he drawled.

your two minecraft characters crouched and smooshed into each other's faces in a weird, kiss-like action. the "rings" you exchanged were a pink hair tie for charlie that he quickly slid onto his wrist and a green matching one for yourself. it was picture-perfect, and you supposed, good practice for when if you actually got married.

after the beautiful minecraft wedding, you made a teensy tiny little offhand comment that made charlie's heart pound and his head fucking spin. you two were joking around and you quipped, "charlie, i told my mom i was getting married, and now she said she has to meet you. make sure you're up to par, ya know."

"m—meet her?" he stammered, eyes wide. "uh, i mean— okay." charlie's voice cracked at the end as if he was twelve and not twenty-six.

well, the editors went crazy with the whole thing. the wedding, the 'meeting-your-mom' part and especially the matching hair ties the two of you never ever took off. you two had taken the whole by storm for getting married on a minecraft server!

୨ৎ

divider creds @bernardsbendystraws

this is what inspired a good portion of this fic (smp bit) go check them out they're SUCHH an inspiration omg :D

[woso-dreamzzz]

Captain II

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Fridolina Rolfö x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You come home after being announced as captain

In true Magda fashion, everyone in her contact list gets a call. A quick 'did you hear my kid's Sweden Captain?' call where she ends it before the other person can reply.

You get a text and several missed calls that you just ignore until you're free to go to your mothers' house. It was a slip that had you forgetting to tell them that you were Sweden's new captain.

There wasn't much time between your discussion with Emma and walking out to the press conference.

The best you could have given them was a text in warning but, judging by the messages your Morsa sent and all the uncharacteristic emojis she sent with it, you assumed she was happy.

You also assumed that you wouldn't be yelled at for not giving them a heads up.

You pull up at their house and sigh.

Frido's car is also in the driveway and you roll your eyes.

You don't want to think about how many traffic laws she broke to get here before you.

You unlock the front door, unbothered with using the bell, and slip inside.

The low hum of the tv is apparent as you slide off your shoes and hang up your coat. Frido's definitely in the house because you have to put your shoes next to hers and her bag is sitting on the stairs.

You're not entirely sure why she keeps bringing a bag when all her clothes are in the spare room but you don't dwell on it long before making your way into the living room.

Momma is sitting on the sofa, watching the last five minutes of a random show before what she actually wants to watch comes on.

"Your Morsa and moster are in the garden," She tells you," Calling everyone they know to brag."

"Are you angry I didn't tell you? Are they?"

"I'm not angry and those two are much too smug to be angry as well."

You smile and sit next to Pernille, one of her arms being thrown over your shoulder comfortably.

"At least tell me you told Natalia at least. She's not got access to you while on camp like we do."

"I told Talia," You reply.

In fact, Talia was the first and only person you told before the press conference. She'd congratulated you with a laugh before teasing and saying to take it in while you could because she would be gunning for the Spanish captaincy next.

She'd get it eventually, you knew that. It was only a matter of time but, still, you were the only national captain in the relationship at the moment and you just knew she'd have something to say about it when you finally reunited.

"Good girl," Pernille says," I'd hate for her to suddenly appear at the house unexpectedly. You know what your Morsa gets like."

In sync, you both lean forward to peer out of the windows leading to the garden.

Magda's still on the phone, waving her hand around excitedly as her mouth moves quickly before she drops the call only to immediately make a new one.

Frido's also pacing around the garden doing the exact same thing and you can't help but roll your eyes at both of them.

Magda catches your eyes and instantly makes her way back inside.

"Look at you!" She cries, bursting into the room," My little captain! Look at you!"

You're pulled away from Pernille and crushed into a hug as Magda all but sobs into your hair.

"I remember the first time you wore the armband! So small! You couldn't even walk yet! It kept slipping off! Now look at you!"

"Morsa," You groan, trying to escape from her suffocating hug," Let go!"

"My baby!" She's definitely crying now. "Carrying Sweden to greatness!"

(One day, you do lead Sweden to greatness. One day, you make your mark as one of Sweden's captains. One day, you pass off the armband to a young player you saw greatness in like your captain did for you.)

"Come on," You complain," Let go!"

You're released, only to be forced right back into another hug, from your moster Frido now.

Her hugs is just as suffocating as Magda's. She rocks side to side with you as you struggle to get away.

She speaks to Magda over your head. "Do you think I can borrow your old armband? I can't just wear her shirt to matches anymore. Got to complete the look."

"Please don't," You beg but she ignores you.

"Er..." Magda says," I'm not sure actually. I'll have a look-"

"It's on the bedside table," Pernille cuts in," Magda insisted on wearing it last night when we-"

"Gross!" You complain," Please don't talk about your sex life. You know I wear the armband now. Please don't make me think about you guys having sex every time I wear it."

You peak your head over Frido's shoulder to look at your mothers.

Magda shrugs. "A healthy sex life-"

"Stop!" You clamp your hands over your ears. "Stop talking or I'll go straight back to camp. Stop talking!"

Magda waves a hand dismissively. "You'll find out what I mean as soon as you see Natalia again."

[horror-sapphic]

NSFW ALPHABET | VICTORIA NEUMAN

Some letters were left out on purpose. Sorry for any errors.

Cw: nsfw (18+), this got so filthy idek.

A — ( aftercare ) - She likes to lay with you, letting your breaths sync up together, depending on how hard the two of you go - she will totally baby you up after (asking if you're okay/sore, and gently rubbing you letting her mommy instincts kick in).

B — ( body part ) - V loves your tits, she loves the way they fill your bra (wishing her hands were the thing that held them all day), and she loves how they look, full and round. She loves how they look, bouncing on your chest and she plows into you from every angle. She enjoys putting them in her mouth, sucking and nibbling on your hard bud

C — ( cum ) - She loves sucking your cum out of your slippery cunt after she's finished fucking it however she pleases, she loves watching it leak out of your hole after she fucks you with a cum filled strap.

D — ( dirty secret ) - She likes the idea of you calling her mommy in bed, she wants to try the "Mommy" and "little" roleplay once in a while with you.

E — ( experience ) - V has a bit of experience. Once or twice with men and then sticking with only women.

F — (favorite position ) - She loves watching you ride her, how her cock slides in and out of your tight wet pussy, squeezing around her as you get closer to cumming. Milking her. She'll notice you getting tired and will ram into you, watching you go slack-jawed while she plows into your cunt from below.

G — ( goofy ) - V will have a "laugh", in a teasing dom way. "Oh baby, c'mon I know you can take more"

H — ( hair ) - She won't be completely shaven; the sides will be shaved and everything else trimmed.

J — ( jack off ) - (G!P Neuman) She likes stroking herself to the thought of you, reminiscing about how well you took her the other night. How your tight, warm hole gobbled her cock up so desperately. You weren't even wet enough to fully take her yet but after your whiny cries, she gave in and filled you up. She starts to speed up thinking about how teary-eyed you got as she gave you the fucking you were hungry for, your face twisted in pleasure only she could give you. How the sound of your sloppy cunt filled the room as she plowed into you, her hips meeting yours over and over again. Your tits bouncing from the force of her thrusts were enough to bring her over the edge, cumming all over her hands and stomach.

K — ( kink ) - Biggggg mommy kink. Bigggggg mommy kink. The idea of breastfeeding you has crossed her mind.

L — ( location ) - Anywhere she pleases. She's Victoria Fucking Neuman. If she wants you bent over with your pussy on her tongue in a park, then that's where you'll be. That's how prevented she can be.

O — ( oral sex ) - She loves going down on you as much as she loves going down on you. She loves to drown in your pussy, having you sit on her face and watching you ride her, chasing after your own pleasure. Using her to cum.

P — ( pace ) - (With strap) She likes to change up the pace, she'll sometimes start out slow to tease you before speeding up and going back to slow when she can see you close to cumming.

(With her fingers) same medium pace the entire time, coaxing out way too many orgasms out of you. Covering her fingers in your cum as she licks dribbles of it coming down her wrists.

Q — ( quickie ) - If you come to visit her at work she'll almost always sneak a quick orgasm or two, having you hide under her desk with your mouth latched onto her cunt.

R — ( risk ) - She simply does not care, she'll fuck you anywhere she pleases and doesn't care who hears. Either hearing the both of your moans harmonizing together or the wet sounds coming from your pussy.

S — ( stamina ) - She's a supe, you're the one asking for a timeout.

T — ( toys ) - She loves to bring toys in the bedroom, a cum filled strapon to watch the cum dribble out of you. Vibrators, to have it pressed against the two of you making each other squirt onto one another. She likes getting big cocks to stretch you out, she gets so wet watching you struggle to take her in your cunt or tight ass. She loves watching you ride the thick cock she picks out, either for her enjoyment or a punishment.

U — ( unfair ) - SHE LOVES TO TEASE. Fucking you until you're on the edge just to have the thick, slick, silicone cock slip out of your hungry pussy just because. Repeating this until you have a quivering orgasm. She likes to hear you beg for her to fuck you. "Poor baby, don't worry. Mommy will take care of you" as she slips back into you more forcefully.

V — ( volume ) - (When Zoe isn't home) She can get pretty loud when she finally gives you the okay to fuck her, making you get on your knees licking and sucking on her aching pussy. After giving you a few rounds she decided she was too wet to not cum so she made you get to work. Not that you'd mind. "Fuuuck baby, right there. Mommy's gonna come for you baby, don't stop".

W — ( wildcard ) - She loves it when you send her sexy stuff while she's at work, either you stuffing yourself while dirty talking about how much you can't wait for her to come home and fuck you numb. Or just lewd pictures of yourself.

X — ( x-ray ) - (G!P Neuman) She has a 7-inch cock with 3-inch width to her, she loves how big she is because she gets to watch you struggle yet beg to have her fuck and cum in you.