#I learned two whole new stitches for this one

[coridallasmultipass]

Halloween costume hint:

(The stitch marker and the word that describes this colour-pattern of yarn [or fabric] are 2 more hints.)

[tokkiwrites]

Adstrum in ruinas. | part one.

General Marcus Acacius × F ! Reader

• summary: After your father’s sudden death, the general starts spending more time with you. At first, it feels strange, but as you come to learn, he isn't that big a brute everyone thinks he is.

• kind of slow burn ??, age gap (unspecified), forbidden love, marcus is pretty possessive and in love, and he's cute, mutual pining, mentions of death, lmk if i missed anything.

• tokkis note: This is the first part of a little fic i wanted to write. the nsfw smut part will be in part two since this part already has almost 4k words. i just wanted a little backstory, so who knows... if you guys enjoy this part, maybe i will make it into a short series. i have lots of ideas. anyways, enjoy!!!

The palace felt colder after your father’s death. Though the sun still danced across the walls, nothing could have warmed you.

He had always been a quiet man, steady in his craft and in his love for you. You had grown up watching his hands work leather as though it were clay, each stitch meticulous, each touch with purpose. He had poured his life into the emperor’s court, shaping beauty out of necessity, and yet, when his time had come, they had discarded him without hesitation.

Accused of theft, he had been taken swiftly, the charges flimsy, the judgment quick. You had not been allowed to speak on his behalf. No one had. And when his life ended on the blade of the emperor’s justice, the world moved on as though he had never existed. You had not cried when they took him. There had been no time, no space for grief within the stone walls of the palace. Instead, you swallowed it whole, the ache settling deep within your chest, cold and unforgiving. You could not cry. In a way, crying was admitting to the gods that he was no longer, so you did not dare slip one tear. Let the pain seethe.

No one spoke his name. To your face, at least. Not until General Marcus Acacius.

You had known his name long before you ever knew his face. The empire’s greatest general, a man whose victories had carved Rome’s borders, who had spilled oceans of blood in the emperor’s name. He was the kind of man you had only seen from afar—untouchable, his presence a thing of myths whispered amongst men. To you, he was just that: a man. A cruel one.

So when he first appeared in the apothecary, you almost did not believe it was him. “The town speaks of… you,” he said, voice filling the room like the low roll of thunder. You turned sharply, the pestle slipping from your grasp. He stood in the doorway, tall and broad, his figure framed by the dim light spilling in from the corridor. His tunic was torn, a gash running across his arm where blood had soaked through. “So I heard,” he continued, stepping inside, “if it is true—”

“Oh, yes, I—yes, it is true,” you stammered, fumbling for words. His presence unsettled you, though you could not say why. Perhaps it was the way his gaze lingered or faint something in his tone. It was different this time. “I understand. You have my condolences,” he said. You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Something in your heart fluttered. “Thank you, General.” He was not a monster. Not here with you, not now, at least. It seemed sincere enough. You looked him up and down. Why did the blood keep on trickling? For a moment, you thought he might say more, but he simply gestured to his arm. “May I trouble you for assistance?” No monster.

At first, you thought nothing of his visits.

They were sporadic, a few days apart—always under the pretense of some new injury. A cut from a sparring match. A dislocated shoulder. The aches and pains of a soldier’s life. He came to you because it was easier than seeking the palace’s physicians, or so you told yourself. But then the days stretched into weeks, and his appearances grew more frequent.

You noticed the small ways in which he lingered. The way his eyes followed you as you moved about the room, the way his voice softened when he addressed you. It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but as the days passed, you found yourself waiting for the sound of his footsteps in the hall.

For even when he was far, his touch still lingered, you were still drunken on his smell, and his eyes still loved yours.

One evening, as you prepared a salve by the fire, he spoke. “Your father was a great man.” You froze, your hands stilling over the mortar. “I remember his work,” Marcus continued, his voice low. “He made my first pair of riding boots. I was just a young man then.” You swallowed dry, willing your voice to remain steady. “He never spoke of you.”

“No, I suppose he would not have.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Finally, “So why are you telling me this?”

“Because he deserved better,” Marcus said simply. The words struck something deep within you. You looked away, vision blurring as the firelight flickered. Better.

He was all you could think about. Each night, from the first, you would sing sweet, mournful songs to the moon. Maybe it was because you missed your father dearly, and he filled that space up almost perfectly. Or maybe because, when he was with you, he did not seem to be the seven-headed monster all saw him as. Maybe pretending was his virtue.

But you were not the last judgment.

“Why are you always here?” you asked, voice sharper than you intended. He hesitated, his gaze flicking to the floor. “Do you not want me here?” A smile played on his lips. “That is not what I said.”

“Then why ask?”

“Because I do not understand.” You stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “You never cared before. Why now?” His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might walk away. But then he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “It is nothing,” he said at last.

“It is not nothing,” you pressed. “You are avoiding the truth.”

He looked at you then, his expression guarded but not unkind. “And if I told you the truth, would you thank me for it? Or curse me for what I know?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “What is it that you mean?” Marcus hesitated, the words heavy on his tongue. “Your father,” he said finally. “He did not die because of the charges. He died because they needed a scapegoat. The emperor needed to remind the court what happens when you step out of line.” The room seemed to tilt, the walls closing in around you. “You knew?”

“I tried to stop it,” he said quietly. “But there are things even I cannot change.”

You shook your head, the ache in your chest threatening to overwhelm you. “I do not need your protection, Marcus. I do not need anyone’s.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. His voice was steady, but there was something raw in his eyes. “But you have it anyway.”

You wanted to be angry with him. You wanted to scream, to push him away, but instead, you stood there, frozen, as he reached for you. His hands were rough, calloused from years of battle, but they cradled your face with a tenderness that left you breathless. You craved it. And you will crave it until the day you are no more.

“I care for you more than I have ever cared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that terrifies me.”

Whatever happened to honor and victory? It was brutal. He was brutal. Raw, bloody, and utterly inhuman. But how could he also be the quiet after the storm? The wind that travels over still waters, the sound of dawn over mountains of dead people? You had to treat him many times, but the wounds he had inside his heart came well over the ones on his skin, you think.

You didn’t want to think of him—Marcus, with his dark eyes and the way they seemed to unravel you each time they met your own. But he lingered, even when he wasn’t here. He lingered in the soft creak of the door, the faint scent of leather and iron that clung to the air after he’d gone. It wasn’t fair, how much space he took in your thoughts. How much warmth he brought into this cold, empty life. You hated him for it. You hated yourself more.

“You work too hard.” You glanced up, startled by the suddenness of his words. He was seated by the fire, his armor stripped away, leaving only the simple tunic beneath. His shoulders were broad, his posture commanding even in repose. “You say that as though there’s an alternative,” you replied, turning back to the herbs in your hands.

“You could rest,” he said simply. “And do what? Dream of better days?” The bitterness in your voice surprised even you. Marcus leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You deserve better days.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Finally, you set the pestle down and met his gaze. “Better days won’t bring my father back.”

“No,” he agreed. “But they might give you something to hope for.” You shook your head, unwilling to let yourself be drawn into his optimism. “Hope is for fools, General.”

“Perhaps,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But sometimes, it’s all we have.”

He wanted to hold you, to let his body meld with yours, ask you to run away to far lands. Let him take care of you, make you have his babies. Love you until there's nothing left.

but he couldn't.

“What would you do with better days?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Marcus’s gaze lifted, startled by the question. He leaned back in his chair, his broad frame casting a long shadow across the dim room.

“I don’t know,” he said after a moment. he did know. he'd spend them with you. oh, silly it all felt. “I stopped imagining them a long time ago.” You paused, your fingers stilling over a jar. “You must have thought about it. When you were younger, before…” You trailed off, uncertain how to finish the sentence. “Before the blood?” he supplied, his tone sharper than you expected. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose I did. Once.” still.

“And?”

He hesitated, the tension in his shoulders palpable. “And it doesn’t matter. The man I am now... he has no place in better days.” Something in your chest ached at his words, though you couldn’t say why. You wanted to reach for him, to close the distance between you and tell him he was wrong. But you didn’t. Instead, you lowered your gaze and returned to your work, your voice quiet. “That’s a pity.”

The days stretched into weeks, and though you tried to resist, the threads of your lives intertwined in ways you couldn’t untangle. Marcus became a constant presence, his visits no longer marked by the pretense of injuries. He came for you, though neither of you dared to speak it aloud.

Each touch, each glance, was a betrayal of the barriers you had built around yourself. Yet, you let him break them piece by piece, unable to deny the pull that drew you closer.

One night, as the apothecary lay bathed in moonlight, he found you humming an old melody—a song your father had sung on quiet nights. The tune was bittersweet, a memory wrapped in longing. Marcus lingered in the doorway, his shadow stretching across the room.

“I’ve heard that before,” he said softly.

You turned, startled. “My father used to sing it.” He nodded, stepping closer. “It suits you. Beautiful and haunting.” You didn’t respond, your gaze dropping to your hands. “I don’t sing much anymore.”

“You should.”

He was close now, close enough that you could see the faint scar that ran along his jaw, the one you’d traced with your eyes so many times but never dared to touch. “Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because it’s part of you,” he said simply. “And I want to know all of you.” His words left you breathless, the weight of them settling in your chest. You wanted to pull away, to guard the fragile thing that was growing between you, but you couldn’t.

But people talk.

They talk in whispers that snake through the palace walls, slithering through cracks and beneath doors. Whispers of his visits, of his presence in the apothecary, of the time he lingers where he should not. They do not speak to you directly, but you can feel their words coiling around your throat, tightening with every passing day.

You hear them behind you when you walk through the halls: the sharp staccato of hurried footsteps, the low murmur of voices that stop the moment you turn. You catch glimpses of knowing glances, the way the maids shift their eyes when you enter a room, how the guards avert their gazes.

They all know, and yet they know nothing.

Because what is there to know? You have not touched him beyond necessity, have not dared to let your hand linger when you tend his wounds. And yet, the air between you is thick, suffused with something that neither of you has the courage to name.

“You should not come here anymore,” It was late. The apothecary was empty, save for the two of you. You stood with your back to him, arranging jars on the shelves in some vain attempt to distract yourself from the weight of his presence.

“I will decide what I should or should not do,” Marcus replied, his voice steady. You turned to face him, exasperation rising in your chest. “They talk, Marcus. Do you not see the danger in that? For you— for me?” His expression changed fast. “I cannot stop them from speaking,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “And I will not stop coming.”

“Why?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Why do you care what happens to me? Why do you risk so much just to be here?”

He did not answer immediately. His gaze flicked over your face, searching for something, though you could not say what. Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy. “Because you deserve better than this,” he said. “Better than what the court has given you. Just... better." You shook your head, chest tightening. “That is not an answer.”

“It is the only one I can give you,” he said, stepping closer. “For now." But deep down, you knew better.

And you hated him for it, too.

“I see the way you look at me,” he said one night, his voice breaking the silence. You froze, your hands stilling over the poultice you were preparing. “What?”

“Do not deny it,” Marcus said, his tone softer now. “I know that look. I have seen it on too many faces not to recognize it.” You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “And what look is that?”

“The one that says you hate me as much as you try to fight it." The words struck you like a blow, and you turned to face him, your cheeks burning. “I do not—”

“You do,” he said simply, cutting you off. “And I do not blame you for it.”

His gaze was steady, his eyes dark and unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might say more, but instead, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush against your arm. “I do not deserve your forgiveness,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I hope for it, all the same.” You did not hate him. you wish you could, because falling in love wasn't what you wanted right now.

“I think about you,” Marcus admitted, his voice raw. “More than I should. More than is safe.” Your breath caught in your throat, your chest tightening as his words sank in. “You shouldn’t,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction. “I know.”

The silence between you stretched.

“But why?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Why do you care now, after all this time? You never gave me an answer, Marcus..."

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Because I see you,” he said finally. “And I see myself in you—the parts of me I thought were dead. The parts I’ve tried to bury.” You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I don’tㅡ Marcus, if this is all a game to you, of things you want to rediscover within you..."

"It is not. I do not intend to play with your heart."

So why does the blood keep on trickling?

They were wildflowers, clearly gathered from the edges of the palace gardens, and they looked out of place in his calloused hands. He held them out awkwardly, his expression somewhere between defiance and vulnerability, as though he expected you to scold him for the gesture. “For you,” he said simply. You stared at them for a moment, then at him. “Why?” you couldn’t help but smile. “Do I need a reason?” His tone was defensive, but the softness in his gaze betrayed him. No monster.

Your fingers brushed against his as you took the flowers, and he flinched almost imperceptibly, as if the touch burned him. “They’re beautiful,” you said. He didn’t reply, but you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch— an almost-smile, there and gone in an instant.

“Are you trying to court me, General?” you asked, half-joking. The question caught him off guard, and he looked at you with something close to panic in his eyes. “No.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Good. You’d be terrible at it.” But the truth was, you didn’t hate the thought.

He started threatening the others after that.

The first time, you hadn’t been there to see it, but you heard about it from one of the maids who whispered to you in passing. “The general,” she said, her eyes wide. “He nearly broke Marcellus’s arm. All because he said something about you.”

He didn’t deny it. “He should not have said what he did,” he said simply, his tone calm but firm. “What did he say?”

“It does not matter.”

“Marcus—”

“It does not matter,” he repeated, his voice sharper now. “What matters is that he will not say it again.”

You wanted to argue with him, to tell him he couldn’t go around threatening people in your name. But the truth was, a part of you was glad. A part of you wanted him to protect you. He didn’t just watch over you—he hovered, his presence a constant shadow that both comforted and unnerved you. When he wasn’t by your side, you found yourself looking for him, craving his presence like air. And when he was with you, you felt safer than you had since your father’s death.

Days passed, and though you told yourself you should push him away, you could not.

He was always there, like a storm on the horizon—inevitable, impossible to ignore. You felt his presence even when he was not near, his voice echoing in your mind, his touch lingering on your skin.

You hated yourself for it. Hated the way your heart leapt when you heard his footsteps, the way your breath hitched when his fingers brushed yours. You tried to convince yourself it meant nothing, that it was a passing infatuation born of grief and the fact that he so happened to be there. You tried to convince yourself that the soft yearning in your chest was fleeting. A passing fancy, born of loneliness and the way Marcus had carved out a space in your world so effortlessly.

But as the days turned to weeks, the intensity of your feelings betrayed you. Every glance he cast your way lingered. Every word he spoke seemed to reverberate in your mind long after it had been said.

And every time his hand brushed against yours—whether by accident or intent—it felt as if the earth shifted beneath your feet.

It was one of those moments now. The two of you stood side by side in the apothecary, the late afternoon sunlight spilling through the windows. He was reaching for a jar of herbs on the shelf above, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned closer.

Your breath hitched, and you stepped back quickly, your movements too sharp, too sudden. “Am I in your way?” Marcus asked, his voice low and amused. “No,” you said hastily, turning to busy yourself with a mortar and pestle. “Not at all.” He did not move, and you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and unwavering. “You always do that,” he said after a moment, his tone thoughtful.

“Do what?”

“Step away.” You forced yourself to meet his eyes. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do,” he said quietly. There was no accusation in his voice, only a gentle insistence. “You step away as if the space will make it easier. But it does not, does it?” Your fingers tightened around the pestle. “Marcus—”

“I feel it too,” he said, cutting you off. The words hung between you, raw and unvarnished. You stared at him, your heart pounding. “You should not say that.”

“Why not? Because it is the truth?” He stepped closer, his hand resting on the edge of the table. “Because I look at you and I can think of nothing else? Because when I leave here, all I want is to come back?”

“Marcus, stop.” Your voice was trembling now, a plea more than a command. “I cannot stop,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I do not think you can, either.” The room seemed to shrink around you, the air charged with something that felt too big for your soul to understand. “Tell me to leave,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “If this is too much, if I have crossed a line, say the word, and I will go.” You opened your mouth, the words on the tip of your tongue. But they would not come. Because no matter how much you told yourself this was dangerous, reckless, wrong. you did not want him to go.

You did not step back this time. “I cannot,” you whispered, the words breaking free like a confession. His breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then he reached for you, his hand cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “I do not know how to do this,” you said, your voice trembling. “I do not know what happens now.”

what is this pandora box you have opened?

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tentative. It was raw and consuming, as though he’d been holding back a storm and now it was unleashed. His hands slid to frame your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as his lips claimed yours. There was no hesitation, no room for doubt. And, oh, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Your hands found his tunic, clutching the fabric as though it were the only thing keeping you grounded. His scent filling your lungs, his warmth, the feel of him, it was too much and not enough all at once.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t…”

“You did,” you whispered, your own voice shaky. “And I didn’t stop you.” His lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile, but his eyes remained serious. “Say the word, and I’ll walk away. I swear it.”

You hesitated, the weight of his words settling over you. But then you shook your head, your hand lifting to brush against his cheek. “I wil not say it.” His eyes closed briefly, as though your words had physically hit him. When he opened them again, they were softer, full of something you couldn’t name but felt in every corner of your soul.

“Then I am yours,” he murmured. “For as long as you’ll have me.” You leaned up, your lips brushing against his once more. A promise, a surrender, a beginning.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨All Dolled Up✨

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: After months of hard work, Lucifer finally gifted you a welcome present after joining the hotel! In return, you decide to make something of your own just for him! Your gift, however, turns out to be even more special than you intended...

This is a surprise story for my friend @rosen-und-mondlicht who gave me this very creative and fun idea for a story! Love you boo <3

Huge thanks to @canihaveacandycane and @citrusbatsandhoneybees for the help on this one!

Warnings: smut, 18+, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), multiple orgasms, p in v

Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! We're so happy to have you stay with us! We hope your time here is an enjoyable one!

-Hotel Staff

P.S. Hey there! I'm sorry this took so long to give you, I just had to make it perfect! I hope you like it!

-Lucifer

It was custom for every new resident to receive a welcome letter. Even though you've already been at the hotel for 6 months now, it was still appreciated. You walked into your room and found your very late letter sitting next to a small white box complete with a red bow resting at the foot of your bed. The gift was unexpected; however, you hadn't heard of anyone else receiving one. Once you read the card, you figured you knew the reason for its delay. Lucifer, always the perfectionist, must have stalled the whole operation.

You hadn't expected to become so close to the King of Hell himself. You were weary of him at first, I mean, who wouldn't be? Everyone knew about the fallen angel. But after a while, you started to warm up to him. It was easy to see that he was nothing like you imagined or had been told about while you were alive. He was a kind soul, a dreamer who loved his daughter dearly, and someone who was very, very lonely. You learned about his previous wife Lilith and how she had left several years ago never and hadn't been heard from since. You could tell this deeply affected Lucifer even though he did his best to hide it through his jovial persona. You two grew pretty close, he found you incredibly easy to talk to, as if he had known you his whole life. You enjoyed your time together and you found joy in listening to whatever he chose to ramble on about that day be it his latest project or reminiscing about his daughter Charlie when she was younger. You'd never admit it, but you had developed somewhat of a crush on the king. But who were you to get involved with the ruler of Hell? It wasn't your place as a mere sinner and you dared not ruin the friendship you had built with him, odd as it may be.

Curiously, you picked up the box and casually began to unwrap it. you lifted the lid to find a cute little rubber duck that resembled you! All the little details down to your hair, your eye color, and somehow it managed to capture your smile in its little orange beak. You loved it, no wonder to took him so long to complete; every detail was perfect. It was such a thoughtful gift, and you felt the burning need to return the favor! Who knows the last time Lucifer had been given a gift. Why couldn't it be from you?

You noticed something else in the box too and lifted it up gently. It was a beautiful white and red feather. You knew it must have been his, but did he mean to give this to you as well? Knowing him, he must have worked frantically to get this gift finished. A few must have fallen off during the packing process; you knew how stressed the man could get. But the feather gave you an idea. You couldn't make rubber ducks like him, that was his specialty. But you did, however, know how to make little felt dolls! You were very crafty during your life and you figured you might as well use the skills you have to do something good.

You spent most of the night sewing and stitching everything together, ignoring the many warning signs your body gave you in order to try and get you to sleep. You were stubborn, however. Once you started a project, it was almost impossible for you stop until it was complete. It was nearly dawn by the time you finally finished the little doll. Well, almost finished! Everything was perfect, from the little snake that wrapped around his little hat to the tiny golden buttons on his jacket. There was only one things left to do! You grabbed the feather that you had found your box and delicately placed it inside of the small slit you had left open on the side of the doll. You thought the feather could represent a heart, something meaningful to give the doll and make it different from anything else.

Finally, you stitched the last gap closed, cutting the strong with your teeth to finally complete your gift. You stared at the doll for a moment to admire your work. And you were happy. But something weird happened. Just then, a small flash of golden light emanated from the doll but disappeared as quickly as it came. You set it down and rubbed your eyes. You looked over the doll again for another minute, but the flash of light never returned. You chalked it up to being a trick of the light. And considering the fact that you were sleep deprived, you wouldn't put it past your brain to start pulling tricks on you. You shrugged it off, taking the doll with you to bed. You drifted off to sleep easily, your eyes growing heavy as soon as your head hit the pillow. You clutched the doll close to your chest, giving it a small peck on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Lucifer," you whispered to it before letting your body fall unconscious.

****

You woke up with a start to the sound of your alarm blaring. It was 8:00 a.m. Not nearly enough sleep. You realized you hadn't moved all night; your body must have been too exhausted to toss and turn. You found yourself still holding the doll and smiled to yourself. You were still exhausted, but you knew Charlie would be sad if you missed breakfast, so with all of your remaining strength, you pulled yourself out of bed and begrudgingly began to get ready for the day. You decided you use a small tan paper you had from one of your shopping trips bag to hold the doll, thanking yourself for not just tossing it away like you normally would have.

You made your way to the kitchen knowing Charlie would be preparing breakfast for everyone. But to your surprise, when you entered through the kitchen door, it was not the princess you found at the stove, but her father. You heard him whistling a song you never heard before, a perfect melody. Your heart began to race as you walked a little bit closer to him, the smell of pancakes filling your senses.

"I can hear you, you know," Lucifer called out playfully as he flipped a pancake in the air. You couldn't help but giggle.

"Well, I'm glad," you retorted, now standing beside him. "I didn't really want to be scaring you when you’re working over a hot stove like that."

He gave you a small smirk without looking away from what he was doing. "Oh yeah, that truly would be terrible, wouldn't it?" he laughed. You knew he was more or less invincible, being an angel and all. Still, you didn't want to distract him.

"I thought Charlie was usually the one to prepare breakfast," you commented.

"Oh, she is!" Lucifer smiled. "But I told her I would handle the meals today. My little girl works so hard around here, you know? I thought it would be nice to take something of her plate...so to speak." He chuckled at his own joke as he laid the freshly made stack of pancakes on the neatly assembled row of plates.

"Do you need any help?" you asked, setting down the brown paper bag behind the kitchen island out of his view.

"Sure!" He turned around and pointed to the condiments he had laid out. "Could you hand me the syrup and the whipped cream over there?" You did as he asked and brought him the items. Lucifer began to smother the fluffy cakes in syrup and drawing little ducks with the whipped cream to top them all off. When he was finished, you and him delivered breakfast to the hotel residents. You came back to the kitchen to notice there were two plates of pancakes left.

"Oh, we forgot some," you commented. "Who did we forget?"

Lucifer only smiled. "Those are for us, silly! You have to eat too, don't you?"

In your effort to help, you completely forgot that you hadn't eaten. He handed you your plate and fork and you two stood there eating his delicious creation as you leaned against the countertop.

"These are amazing!" you tried to say with your mouth still half full.

Lucifer swallowed his last bite and gave you a toothy grin. "Why thank you! I'll be honest, I haven't cooked in a long time. I was afraid I had forgot how. But if you like them, then I know I succeeded!"

You set your finished plate down and crossed your arms. Lucifer seemed to be in more high spirits than usual. You liked seeing him like this; just happy. "If you don't mind me saying, Lucifer, your mood seems...different. N-Not in a bad way! Just...more full of energy."

He followed your motion and set his plate down behind him. "You think so?"

"Yeah," you continued. "It's nice to see. I like a happy Lucifer."

He smiled at you and left out a soft sigh. "Can I tell you something?" You tilted your head in confusion but nodded. "This is gonna sound a little weird, maybe a little bit crazy, but just hear me out, okay?"

"Of course! I never think you're crazy," you smiled. His hand found the back of his neck; he looked as though he was nervous about whatever he was about to tell you. Your heart started racing again.

"Last night, when I was sleeping...in the middle of the night, I felt something...I don't know how to say this...constricting me?" You furrowed your brow, not understanding what he was trying to say. "Maybe that's not the right word. Let's say...holding me. That sounds better."

"Holding you?" you questioned, "I'm not sure I get it."

"Okay uhh, let me think..." he placed his hand under his chin. "It almost felt like...cuddling?"

"So...someone was cuddling you last night?" you spoke in a hushed tone. You feared the worst when you heard him say those words. Lucifer noticed your change in demeanor and quickly back peddled.

"No, no, that's the thing! I was alone last night!" he reassured you. "I always sleep alone, ever since..." he shook his head as to move on and forget it. But you knew what he was going to say. "It was the strangest damn thing, in the middle of the night no less! And there was a voice that..."

Your brain refused to acknowledge Lucifer's last few words and were more focused on the fact that he was indeed alone last night. "That...certainly is odd. What could..."

Oh no...

Your eyes went wide with fear, your whole body froze, you couldn't bring yourself to finish your thought.

The doll.

The doll you made for him. You went to bed with it last night. You held it in your arms. You kissed it goodnight!

Oh no, oh no, oh no!

"Is everything alright?" Lucifer snapped you back to reality. "You look paler than me!"

You swallowed hard trying to muster up any sort of response. "Y-Yeah! Yeah, I'm totally fine! I just...I realized I promised I would help Angel with something this morning and I completely forgot! So, I'll see you later!"

You didn't give Lucifer a chance to respond as you ran out the door and grabbed the bag you had hidden from view. You didn't let up until you reached your room and slammed the door behind you. You set the bag down carefully onto your bed and gingerly removed the doll from it, using only your nails to hoist it out. You let it lay in your hand as you stared at it with panicked eyes.

"What the hell did I do?!" you asked yourself in a berating tone. "It's just a doll, it shouldn't have - hold on..." A sudden memory came flooding back to you. You called the doll emitting a strange light the night before as soon as you finished sewing the remaining stitches. Last night, you thought it was just the trick of the light; it was late and you were beyond exhausted. But that didn't explain why Lucifer was able to feel you holding him last night. The last thing you did was add "...the feather!"

That must be it! His feather must have caused the connection. Lucifer was an angel after all, a magical being of pure light. Surely anything that was a part of him would carry those same properties. You had to get rid of it! But how? You didn't know the extent of what this doll could feel. Surely stabbing it with a knife would cause him some pain...you think. Given Lucifer was more or less indestructible,  you still didn't really want to test that theory.

So, you stood there with the doll limp in your hand unsure of what to do with it next.

You couldn't bring yourself to destroy it, you put so much work into it and it would kill you to get rid of something that was meant to be an innocent gift. The best option would be to hide it, leave somewhere no one would find it and forget that it even exists. But then, the thought of Lucifer's smile crosses your mind. He was so happy this morning, happier than you've ever seen him. And it was because of you. Not that you would every dream of telling him that. But maybe...maybe it would be alright if you kept it. If you held it close to you at night. Perhaps it wasn't the most moral decision, but hey, you're in Hell, morality is not a common practice here. You brought that doll to your chest and held it tight. "I'm sorry..." you murmured to it, "If I can't tell you how I really feel, maybe this is the next best thing."

For the next several nights, you went to bed with the held tightly. And for the next several days, you couldn't bring yourself to face Lucifer. Anytime you heard him approaching or his voice getting closer, you ran the other direction. But not far enough to completely miss him. While you hid from his view, he had that same jovial expression since the day you made breakfast together. It warned your heart to know that what you were doing had a positive effect on him, even though you couldn't shake the guilt that came with that either. Sometimes he would catch you by surprise and spot you from across the hall. Lucifer would call out to you but you made it a point to get out of there as fast as possible. Strangely enough, he never sought you out after you ran, but you thought that was for the best.

One night before you went to bed, you sat up on your mattress staring at your creation resting in your palms.

"I'm a coward," you told yourself. "I should just tell him the truth. Why am I even doing this? I want him to be happy, but this isn't right. I shouldn't have put the feather in there, I should have just thrown this in my closet and not given it a second thought. But no! Now I'm avoiding him like a frightened cat because I don't have the guts to tell him..." You sighed. "One more night. Just one more. And then I'm done. I'll never think about this again." You turned off your lamp and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

****

You cracked your eyes open the next morning, the light of the red sky filling your room. You sat up and rubbed your eyes before feeling around for your doll. You couldn't find it. Your opened your eyes wider. The doll wasn't there. You leaped from the bed and quickly began turning over your covers and throwing the pillows onto the floor. Nothing. You dropped to the ground and peered under your bed to a shocking sight. You gasped.

Keekee somehow found her way into your room. And what was in her mouth other than your little Lucifer doll.

"Keekee," you called to her. "I'm gonna need that back, sweetie! That's not a toy!" Your hand reached out slowly, trying not to spook the little cat. Her tail whipped back and forth as she raised her hind legs. "Nooooooo, don't you dare Keekee, I swear I'll..." but before you could finish your threat, she bolted from under your bed and ran straight out of your room. "Damn it!"

You didn't have time to change and in that moment you didn't care. You flung the door wide open and watched Keekee turn the corner, the doll still in her tiny mouth. "Keekee, get back here!" you yelled down to her as quietly as you could. You didn't know what time it was but it was too early to be cursing at a cat. She scurried away into another hall, forcing you to chase after her. You never lost sight of her, which you thought was a little odd. Normally Keekee could disappear if she really wanted to, but at no point did she ever make an attempt to avoid you completely. It was almost like she wanted you to follow her.

After several crazy turns, you saw her duck into and open door in one of the hallways. You figured it must be a closet. She was finally trapped. You hurried over to the dark room and pushed the door shut so the cat couldn't escape easily. But now you couldn't see.

"Keekee, come here girl," you cooed. "I promise I'm not mad, I just want the doll back." You found it a little ridiculous that you were trying to barter with a cat, but it was early in the morning and your hadn't fully woken up yet. "This isn't funny anymore, you know. Please, Keekee, I need that back!"

"And why would that be?" a low voice boomed in the dark. You shrieked as the lights flashed on. After blinking a few times trying to get your eye to readjust, you realized where you ended up.

Lucifer's workshop...with Lucifer sitting at his desk, Keekee snuggled in his lap.

Shit.

The first thing you could process was that you were still in your nightgown. Instinctively, you threw your hands over your chest in shock and embarrassment.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" Lucifer apologized, quickly covering his eyes with his forearm. "H-Here!" With a snap of his fingers, a giant blanket formed around you, covering you from head to toe. You gripped it tightly to keep in from falling off your shoulders. Lucifer peaked through his arm to make sure you were decent. "Sorry again, I should have realized you wouldn't have been dressed yet." You felt your cheeks burn as he spoke. He reached down to pet Keekee who had then dropped the doll into his other hand. "Such a good girl, Keekee!" he praised her, "who's a good girl? You are! Yes you are!" He looked back up at you and cleared his throat. Lucifer stood up from his chair while Keekee leaped onto the ground, curling up into a ball, and taking a little nap under his desk.

You swallowed hard before finally finding your voice to speak. "L-Lucifer, I-I can explain! I-"

"It's alright," the fallen angel smiled. "I'm sorry about all this, but you've been avoiding me lately. I knew you'd follow Keekee once you realized she stole this from you." He held out the doll in his hand. "You made this?"

You nodded your head, refusing to make any sort of eye contact. "It was meant as a gift for you. The duck you gave me was amazing, I wanted to give you something in return, but..." you couldn't bring yourself to finish your sentence. Lucifer continued to smile softly at you. This was definitely not the reaction you were expecting from him. You had so many questions and so many apologies to give him, but there was one burning question that you needed answered first. "Did you know something like this was possible?"

Lucifer shook his head. "No, I didn't. One of my feathers is in this, right?" You nod. "It must still contain its magic despite not being attached to me anymore."

Your eyes shifted to the ground. "How did you know it was me?"

"I heard you." You raised your eyebrow, not understanding his answer. "I heard your voice. Anytime you held the doll, I heard you, as if you were whispering in my ear. At first, I didn't recognize it. But as you kept talking, the words you were saying; it all clicked. I've been trying to get your attention these last few days but you ran as soon as you saw me. Were you...afraid that I would be angry?"

You nodded again, tears now welling up in your eyes. "I-I'm sorry, Lucifer, I didn't mean to...I just..."

"Hey, hey! Please don't cry! Please?" Lucifer quickly wiped away the tears that fell down your cheek. "I'm not angry, I promise! I'm the furthest thing from it!"

You sniffled a few times, trying to even out your breathing again. "You...You're not? But why?"

Lucifer looked down at the doll in his hand and sighed. "Because...I haven't felt that kind of care in a long time. " He gently ran his hands over the small striped undershirt of the tiny Lucifer. "Hehe, it feels weird when I do it..." He looked back up at you with the most needy eyes you've ever seen. "I should have talked to you immediately after I figured out what was going on. I should have made more of an effort. But I didn't. I know that's selfish of me. But...I was afraid if I did, you would stop. Every time I tried to talk to you, you ran. And I was silently grateful that you did. It meant I would get to feel that same feeling of being held again that night. When you said that last night would be the final time, I knew I had to come clean. I couldn't let you go on thinking that what you were doing was wrong. I hope you can forgive me."

He was apologizing to you? When you were the one that made this magical doll and refused to tell him about it? "You have nothing to be sorry for, I created this, and I didn't tell you what was happening when I learned what I'd done. This is my fault."

"Can I see your hand?" Lucifer asked, almost as if he was ignoring the blame you were putting on yourself. You did as he asked and outstretched your hand. He placed the doll flat in your palm. "You're very skilled, you know. You did a wonderful job capturing my good side," he chuckled. "I know this was originally meant for me, but I want you to keep it. What you do with it is up to you." You remained perfectly as he spoke. "If you want to forget that this ever happened, I would completely understand. You can put it on a shelf or hide it in a closet, and this will never be brought up again." His palms rested on top of the doll and the bottom of your hand. "But..." his grip tightened ever so slightly, his claws digging into the fabric.

"You don't want that, do you?" his thoughts leaving your mouth. Lucifer didn't respond, he didn't even look up as you asked him.

That was all the answer you needed.

You pulled away and hid the doll under your blanket, giving him a soft smile. "I'll keep it...you safe. I promise. If it's what you really want."

"I do." The king couldn't help but beam at you. He wrapped his arms around you, constricting your own. He pulled away once he realized how hard he had been squeezing you. "Sorry," he laughed lightly. "Umm, by the way, i-if you ever need me, you can use the doll to talk to me if I'm not around. It can be about anything..." he leaned in closer and closer to you until you felt the light brush of his lips against your cheek. "And I do mean anything. I don't want to, you know, assume anything, but there had to be a reason why you went to bed with the doll every night. Some of the things you said...it sounded like you had more that you wanted to say. I just don't want you to be afraid. We're friends after all, right?"

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you listened to his words. You tried to speak but only air left your lips. Lucifer only giggled as you watched his cheeks turn a pale yellow. You couldn't believe what he was inferring. it couldn't be possible. And yet here you were with Lucifer himself practically begging for more of your attention.

"I...I don't know what to say," you finally managed to choke out. "This is all a little overwhelming, Lucifer."

"Then don't say anything," Lucifer responded. "Take all the time you need. I hope to see you soon," With a snap of his fingers, you were engulfed in sparkling red flame. You shielded your eyes for a brief moment. But after opening them again, you found yourself back in your bedroom. You walked over to your open door and quietly closed it, sinking to the floor afterwards. There was a lot you needed to process. The blanket that covered you fell to the floor as you ogled at the doll in your hand.

You hugged it tighter than you ever had before.

****

The rest of the day was perfectly quiet, mostly because you did see Lucifer for the rest of it. You cautiously approached Charlie and asked about him. She let you know that her dad told her he needed his privacy today and that no one should worry. Her words didn't comfort you like you hoped they would. Was Lucifer okay? Did this whole ordeal cause him to isolate himself. Did he change his mind about it? Your heart sunk at the thought. You needed to talk to him again, but you weren't sure you could face him. But...there was another option.

Later that night, you threw on your robe to get ready for a nice long bath. After the day you had, you needed it. You glanced over at the little stuffed doll sitting on your night stand, now hearing your own heartbeat in your ears. It was now or never; you wouldn't let your nerves get the better of you anymore. You took a hold of it and sat down on your bed, now extra aware of  your hand movements.

"Lucifer, can you hear me?" You asked. There was no response. "I guess that was a stupid question. Hey, umm, I wanted to thank you. For today, I mean. I was so afraid that this situation would sully our friendship so badly that you'd never want to talk to me again. I hope you're doing alright. And I hope Keekee's teeth didn't hurt you too badly. I'm rambling now, aren't I?" In that moment, you could almost hear Lucifer's laugh.

The grip on you had on it tightened ever so slightly as you gathered the courage for what you really wanted to say. "You were right before. When you thought I had more to say to you. I-I did. But I didn't know how you would take it if I ever told you. I was afraid of your reaction. And your rejection. But...I don't have the strength to tell you in person." You brought the doll closer to your face, your lips ghosting over the fabric. "I love you," you whispered before planting a small peck to its small cheek.

Silence.

Your breath heaved slightly before setting the doll back down. You closed your eyes and let out a heavy sigh. It was done. There was nothing more you can do. You stood up and headed straight for the tub. You needed that bath now more than ever.

Knock knock knock

You froze in place for a few seconds, a little bit frightened by the sudden noise that emanated from your bedroom door.

Knock knock knock knock knock

The knocking on the door became more eager. You hurried over to answer after waiting a little too long to answer. Silently, you opened the door.

Lucifer was standing there in the hallway with the brightest smile.

"I love you too. I only wish you would have told me sooner," the ruler of Hell whispered as he gripped your hands. "Because then I could have done this!"

With little warning, Lucifer brought his lips to yours. You sat there in shock, eyes wide, before quickly succumbing to his temptations. You let your eyes lids fall as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer while his hands found your waist. A delicate kiss to your soft lips, over and over he lightly parted his own as he continuously nipped at you. He pulled away, staring back with his half-lidded eyes. You could have sworn he was drunk of the kiss the way his face formed into a goofy grin. He giggled just a little before widening his eyes in shock and stepping away.

"I'm sorry! I don't know how I keep catching you at the worst times!" he exclaimed now looking at the ceiling to avoid your gaze. You realized what had caused him to get so flustered. You looked down and remembered that you were in your robe.

And only your robe.

You blushed hard, not being able to stop yourself from laughing. "No, no, it's okay! This one's on me, I shouldn't have called you dressed like this."

"But you didn't know I was going to pop over here! My fault, I don't wanna hear any 'buts'!" Lucifer turned his head to the side still doing his best not to look at you.

"Well, I was just getting ready for a bath..." you began.

"O-Oh, yeah, of course! No worries! I really should have thought this through, I just got really excited and I...Anyway! We can talk about this tomorrow! So, I'll just be-"

"My bath is big enough for two." You blurted out without thinking.

At that moment, you could hear a pin drop. What was only a few moments felt like an eternity of silence. Your first instinct was to shut the door and lock it as fast as possible, but your body refused to budge. You just stood there horrified at the words that had escaped your mouth.

Lucifer wasn't faring much better. You watched his whole face turn a bright yellow that spread rapidly over his painted cheeks. And...was he shaking?

"I don't know why I said that," you mumbled almost incoherently. "if you need me, I'll be drowning myself now." You began to close the door before Lucifer caught it.

"I don't want you to drown," he spoke softly with just a hint of humor in his voice. "I better stay to make sure you're safe."

His words shot threw you like an arrow and your body instinctively opened the door once more to let your visitor in. The implications of his acceptance of your accidental offer crashed over you as soon as Lucifer closed the door behind him. He gave you a sheepish smile, his face's yellow tint had yet to rescind.

"I-I'll uhh, I'll draw the bath then," you squeaked and scurried over to the bathroom without another word. You tossed a towel for him onto your bed and hid yourself in the next room as the water began to fill the tub. You felt as though you could pass out at any moment; the crushing anxiety mixed with your burning desire to be as close to him as physically possible was a terrifying yet tantalizing feeling. To counter your worry, you grabbed some bottled soap from the counter and mixed it in with the steaming water, creating thousands of little white bubbles that threatened to spill over onto the floor. You would worry about any mess made later; right now, you wanted to savor this moment as much as you possibly could. Disrobing, you stepped into the now full tub and sunk down into the soothing water. Your heart was still beating a mile a minute but the water did half a sort of calming effect on you.

Knock knock knock

Well, that didn't last long.

"May I join you now?" Lucifer's muffled voiced called out.

A few quick deep breaths later, you cleared your throat, praying your voice wouldn't reveal how utterly stressed you were. "Y-Yes, come in!" Perhaps a poor choice of words, but you didn't have time to think about that when you caught your first glimpse of a nearly naked Lucifer. His alabaster skin looked as if he had been carved from the finest marble, his shoulders were broad compared to his relatively slim physique. Your eyes trailed to his blackened arms and hands that perfectly contrasted the rest of his skin. He was the epitome of perfection. The man closed the door behind him and made his way over to you.

"H-Hi," Lucifer stuttered.

"Heeeyyyyy there..." you rolled your eyes. "Listen, we can agree this is just a little awkward, right?"

Lucifer chuckled. "Maybe just a little bit. How's the water?"

"Join me and see for yourself! I'll just umm..." you turned your head and covered the side of your face with your hand, assuring you wouldn't see anything once he removed his towel.

"I'm not shy, hon." You just knew if you turned around, he would have the most prideful smirk on his face.

"You should get in before I change my mind," you playfully shot back.

You heard his towel hit the floor immediately. A fiery heat burned your core as the water shifted when he made his way in the tub. You closed your eyes for good measure so that you wouldn't be tempted to make this even more awkward than it already was. As soon as the water stopped moving, you took that as a sign that it was safe to look again. You turned your head to see Lucifer was sitting back against the other side playfully running his hands through the soapy bubbles that were floating on the surface.

"I love the bubbles, a very nice touch!" he commented.

"Thanks," you murmured. "You're sitting the wrong way though."

"Huh?"

"W-Well," you cleared your throat, "how am I supposed to clean you if you’re sitting so far away?"

"Oh...oh! Yeah, you're right!" Lucifer quickly spun his body around, his back now facing you. You spread your legs wider for him to scoot up closer to you, but he remained closer to the center of the tub. "Is this better?"

"Still a little too far..." The time for embarrassment had long gone. You grabbed a hold of Lucifer's hips and brought his body nearly flush between your thighs, earning a yelp from the startled angel. "What happened to not being shy, hmm?" you taunted. You could have sworn a little whimper escaped his throat.

Despite its frigid appearance, his body was warmer than you expected. You didn't let your hands linger on his waist for too long nor did you want to think about how his ass was mere inches away from your yearning womanhood. You forced yourself out of the trance and instead grabbed the washcloth and body soap from the small table and began to pour some of the liquid into the small towel, rubbing it between your fingers. "You promise to tell me if this becomes too much?"

Lucifer turned his head with a soft look on his face. "I promise that it won't be." You hummed, slowly bringing the cloth to his skin. He shuddered from the contact.

"Are you alright, Lucifer?"

He exhaled deeply. "I'm alright. More than alright! I'm just...really enjoying this. Thank you..."

You didn't waist anymore time scrubbing the rest of his back clean. Moving to his shoulders, down each arms, then reaching around the front to get to his chest. Without realizing, your head found its way to one of his shoulders, your chin resting comfortably. A soft sigh left your lips.

"Hey, uhh, y-you're going a little low there..." Lucifer said, his voice snapping you out of your haze. Your hand somehow drifted below the water and ended up resting on his lower stomach. Once you realized where you were heading, you pulled your arms away immediately.

"Sorry!" you nearly shouted. "I-I wasn't paying attention! Shit, I'm sorry!"

Lucifer shifted again, now facing you and gave you a small peck. "Sweetheart, it's alright, really! You don't need to apologize." Lucifer took the rag from your hand and made his way back to where he first started against the other side of the tub. "Here, let me return the favor. It's your turn now." With mild hesitation, you accepted his help wordlessly, turning your back to him as he did for you. Afraid of getting any closer, you stopped before any noticeable contact had been made. "I need you closer, dear," he whispered in your ear before pulling you against his chest with minimal effort.

You felt everything in that moment; his hands resting on your hips, his hot breath against your sensitive skin, and most distracting of all, his very noticeable hard on against the small of your back. It took everything you had to not scream like you wanted to. Knowing that this perfect creator was turned on by you made your heart flutter like a butterfly. Your body begged your to shift, if only a little bit, just to feel him rub against you. But you fought it against it furiously, digging your finger into the sides of his thighs to keep yourself grounded. The way your body tensed caused Lucifer to push you away from him slightly.

"Too much?" he asked, concerned that he may have crossed a line.

"No." you shook your head. You pushed yourself back against him, the friction sending a shiver up your spine. The low moan from Lucifer was magical, almost hypnotic. You needed to hear more. But before you could shift again, you felt the soft texture of the washcloth against your back.

"Good," his voice causing goosebumps to form on your arms, "now let's get you clean." He mimicked your movements, gliding the cloth against your soft skin, starting from the top and working his way down methodically. He moved to your shoulders, first the left and the right. Every muscle in your body just wanted to relax into him; you only wanted to float in this water with him for the rest of the night. But you were snapped out of your daydream when you noticed his movements had stopped. You looked down and saw his hand resting on your collarbone. It took only a moment to realize why the devil himself became a statue.

Lucifer swallowed hard behind you. "Am I allowed to...can I...?"

With a small giggle, you took the cloth from his hand and tossed it to the ground. Pulling your hands out of the water, you guided his own hands to your breasts. Lucifer gasped lightly but didn't pull away once your released his hands. His claws felt so nice on your bare skin that you let out a gasp of your own. "I think we're past the point of modesty, Lucifer. Go ahead, I-I want you to touch me."

Your permission was all he needed. Within a second, the king of Hell began to massage your breasts with the most delicate of touches, kneading them like fresh dough. His mouth sank down onto your pulse, sucking on it feverishly. A small whimper escaped your throat as he began to roll your nipples between his fingers. The man was intoxicated and you were the cause.

"You're too good to me, you know that?" he breathed against your skin. "Do you know how long I've wanted to tell you how beautiful you are? How enchanting? How irresistible?" One of his hands made its way down your side to your hip, sinking beneath the water and resting on your inner thigh. "To hold you like this is a dream come true."

"Lucifer, please..." you begged. Your hand found his once more and guided it down to where you needed him most. Once his fingers reached your folds, you couldn't help but whimper. In no time, he began circling your clit gingerly while his other hand worked at your breast. It was too much and not enough at the same time. You opened your legs as wide as your tub would allow to give him more access to your needy hole.

"Tell me what you want, love," he whispered in your ear. "Just say the word and it's yours."

"Touch me..." you pleaded.

You felt a finger slip into you effortlessly, a broken moan falling from your lips. You turned your head and crashed your lips into his, your desire for him only growing with every passing second. Another one of his fingers slid into you, his digits gliding in and out of your pussy with ease. He moaned into your mouth as he continued to pump his digits into your cunt, his pace increasing slowly with every movement.

"Need more of you..." he pleaded. "Please..." His fingers refused to let up. The coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter. You cried out in pure elation when you felt the coil finally give way, cumming hard and pulsing around his fingers that had yet to slow down. Once you could breathe normally against, he at last retreated his fingers from you, giving you a small peck on your forehead.

"T-Thank you," you mumbled out. "I think we're both pretty clean now, wouldn't you say."

"I'd say your right," Lucifer agreed. In a flash, Lucifer managed to stand up and scoop you up effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. You let out a small yelp when he picked you up and set you down on the bathroom floor, retrieving a towel from the nearby rack and sliding it up and down your body before using it on himself. "But I think this is all for naught," he continued as he guided you back to your bed, "because I think we may need another bath, I'm afraid."

He laid you down and quickly shoved his heads between your legs. You realized what he was about to do and sat up before he could go any further. "Wait, wait, hold on now!" Lucifer's eyes looked back at you with concern. "I don't think this is fair! What about you? I haven't even touched you yet!"

Lucifer gaze softened. "Oh, hon, I appreciate it but you don't have to worry about me! I-I'm fine, really! I just...I really need to taste you... Please, I'll do anything!"

You closed your legs and folded your arms over your chest, earning a tiny whimper from the man in front of you. "I seem to recall that I could have anything I wanted," you teased. Lucifer nodded and stuck out his lower lip to pout. You rolled your eyes and smiled, crawling over to him. "I have an idea. But you need to lay down for me. Can you do that?"

He did as you said almost instantly, his head hitting the back of the pillows with a soft thud. At this point you couldn't help but stare at his twitching cock. It was beautiful; thicker and longer than you might have expected from someone of his stature. Not that you would ever complain. You had to hold yourself back from letting out a whine that threatened to make you sound even more pathetic. You closed your eyes and crawled over the devil beneath you. You leaned down to kiss him again, his tongue not holding back from pushing through your lips and entangling it with yours. You pulled away and smiled unabashedly at him, admiring his perfect face and his insanely adorable blush. Without a word, you turned your body so your pussy hovered inches away from his mouth.

"S-Shit..." you heard Lucifer mutter under his breath. Knowing you had this much of an effect on him gave you the confidence you needed to grab ahold of his aching member. Lucifer couldn't help but cry out.

"This way we both get what we want," you told him before giving his tip a tiny little kitten lick. The precum from his shaft had already begun spilling onto your hand; you couldn't help but grin. "Someone is needyyyyYYYY F-FUCK!"

Lucifer pulled your hips down onto his face without warning, his tongue working at your slick cunt like a man starved. HIs claws dug into the sides of your body, the pain mixing with the undeniable pleasure his mouth gave you. Not to be outdone, you sunk your mouth down on his cock, licking and sucking at the tip. Lucifer moaned into your pussy at the feeling of your tongue. Both of your lust-filled sounds filled your room as you each sought to bring the other to their climax. You wouldn't let him win. You couldn't.

Your head bobbed up and down his girthy shaft over and over, taking in as much of him as you could. But with your growing pace came Lucifer's own counter move as his forked tongue pushed even further into you than you thought possible. You were both coming undone impossibly fast. Even with your head fuzzy from the tantalizing feeling of his mouth, your hand and mouth worked together in tandem to push him over the edge. Lucifer cursed against your skin as you felt his hot cum finally fill your waiting mouth. But it only took him a few seconds more to bring you to another orgasm after he begun to tease your clit over and over and over, refusing to give you any sort of reprieve.

You swallowed as much of his as you could before letting go of his cock with a satisfying pop with some of his release dripping down towards your chin. You wiped your fingers against the remains and made sure he watched as you licked them clean. Something in Lucifer must have snapped because the next thing you knew, you had been flipped down onto the mattress with your wrists pinned at your sides. You blinked and stared up into Lucifer now glowing red eyes; his. His demonic horns had burst from his temple, his angelic wings appeared and began flapping behind him, and his tail whipped back and forth before coiling itself around your waist. You gulped, your pussy begging to be filled by the man above you.

"Sorry," Lucifer apologized. "I got a little too excited there." He freed your hands and brought them down to your hips. "D-Do you want to keep going? We can stop if this is too much and-"

You cut him off with a soft kiss to his lips. "It's alright, Luci. I want this. I want you."

Lucifer smiled and kissed you again, stroking his still hard cock in the process. When he pulled away, you felt the tip graze your slick folds. That feeling alone was enough to make you shudder with anticipation. With final nod from you, Lucifer at last began to sink into you. You winced at the pain you felt as your body forced itself to stretch for him until he finally bottomed out inside of you. The pain slowly faded as he waited patiently, smiling at you the entire time.

"Y-You can move now," you squeaked out.

Lucifer nodded, shifting his hips just enough to pull out of you almost all the way before thrusting back in, earning a wanton moan from you. He started slow for you, knowing his size was a bit much to handle. But as your body relaxed, his picked up the pace. Faster and faster until both of you were complete and utter moaning messes.

"F-Fuck...feel so good, love," Lucifer sighed as his wings began to twitch. "S-So good. So perfect...I'm really happy y-you made that doll. I-I know everything didn't go exactly as planned but...GAAHHH FFFFUCK...I think it all turned out f-for the better, don't you think?"

Your moans turned into giggles as he continued to rut into you relentlessly. "You're s-such a dork," you laughed as your legs wrapped around him to force him to keep him as deep inside you as possible.

"B-But I'm your dork," he joked back. "Sorry love, but you're stuck with m-me now!"

"G-Good," you responded breathlessly, his hips thrusting into you even faster than before. "Then we c-can be dorks together!"

"P-Perfect!" Your cunt sucked in his cock as you felt the coil in your stomach tightening again. By the noises he was making, you can only assume Lucifer was almost at his limit too. "Darling...c-can't...I'm close...f-fuck...where-"

"Inside!" you screamed. "FuckfuckfuckFUCK LUCIFER!" Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your wanton cries echoing off the corners of your room. It only took a few more thrusts for Lucifer to follow suit and spill his seed inside of you, his cum painting your walls a pearlescent white was he pulled you in close for another passionate kiss.

The king crashed on top of you after pulling out of you, his unearthly features retreating except for his tail which remained firmly wrapped around you. You smiled as he laid his head on your chest, his breathing labored and shaky. You stroked his soft blond hair as he hummed in approval. He looked up at you with adoring eyes and stuck out his snake-like tongue.

"What's that look for?" you asked him.

"Oh nothing," Lucifer sighed, "I'm just looking at the prettiest woman in all of Hell is all!"

You pushed his face away and laughed. "Yep, still a dork."

"But you love me!" he said gleefully, rolling onto the bed and pulling you into a tight embrace.

"I do, I really do. I wish I would have told you sooner."

Lucifer kissed the top of your forehead. "Don't worry, hon, I know now. And that's all that matters. Besides, I finally get to hold you now! And wow, does it feel like heaven!"

You buried your face in his chest and squeezed him tight. "Well, I can say for certain that you feel much better than the doll. Would you...like to stay over tonight?"

"Of course I would love," he spoke softly. "I have you in my arms now, and I don't intend on ever letting you go."

~~~~

THIS TOOK WAY TOO FUCKING LONG, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANYWAY!!!!!!!!!!!

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[junosmindpalace]

May I request Senku developing a crush on his childhood friend after the petrification? fem!reader if possible (if not gn!reader is completely fine)

hope you have a good day :)

Something is different. 

Senku isn’t referring to his environment, which is so far removed from everything he used to know and love. Instead of brick buildings and concrete pavements, there is seemingly never ending forestry, green and gravel beneath the heels of his makeshift shoes. 

It isn’t Senku’s clothing, which is only some thin tattered animals skins that he had spent days working to hunt down the material for, then skin, then tan, and then stitch together with whatever he could to make the haphazard, ugly garment he wears on the regular to provide him with whatever kind of protection from the elements he can with the resources available to him. It’s a stark contrast to the color he used to wear long ago. 

It isn’t even the new friends (and enemies) he’s made since freeing himself from his petrified state. A whole village of people, now, who look toward him for guidance and instruction, upon him with admiration and reverence. People who help him against the newfound stakes, newfound work, newfound responsibilities that haven’t in the slightest been easy to take on. 

Something is different, and amongst nearly everything in his life becoming dirt and dust nearly overnight, Senku is referring to something different about you. 

But he isn’t referring to the environment he’s used to seeing you in, a school setting, perhaps a park, maybe his own room. There’s no new observation to make about a change in your room or a decoration in your locker, because like him, those things are long gone. 

It isn’t your appearance, a similar reflection of your new environments and state of the world. Random pieces of tanned skin poorly stitched into something that resembled clothing, a Frankenstien’s monster of a garment. More simple and plain assuming compared to the various designs and fabrics you wore way back when you’d spend time on an experiment with Senku. He watched you mature from one phase of your life into the next, and this was no different.

It wasn’t even the new people you surround yourself with, found comfort within. It wasn’t listening to their stories, the things that made these people, so far removed from your time, human. It wasn’t the small, pleasant things that he knew grounded you when you got too caught up in your head, the new habits you made out of retrieving materials, crafting things to keep your hands (and mind) busy, new skills you learned (or were forced to learn) and previous skills you learned to develop.

But for the life of him, Senku cannot figure out what it is that’s different. He drives himself a little further mad each time he looks on at you. There’s something in his mind, almost like an itch, that intrusively takes hold on the rest of his senses when there’s a moment between the two of you, whether it’s a quiet one, whether it’s one of shared excitement or mutual understanding. There’s a warmth and a chill that wash over him at the same time when your gaze settles on him a little too intensely, or when you say something wise and agreeable. There is something he’s missing, and he can’t figure out what. 

Maybe it’s your laugh that’s different, though Senku doesn’t know why that would be a thing of prominent notice, or notice at all. It’s a little rougher, and at times with a little less heart than he’s accustomed to after so many years of hearing it bright and enthusiastic. But it’s still kind, and most of all, genuine. Perhaps something about that makes it distinguishable from another. 

Or perhaps it was your new approach to, your new outlook on, life. No, perhaps it was the way you applied your already existing approaches and outlooks to your new, unique circumstances. To help cope, to help others, to help him. 

It was something different, Senku was sure of it. However, he hasn’t had much time to linger on what could possibly be the source of such…irritation, for very long. 

Perhaps a more irritating point was the fact that Senku could hardly place a time when he first observed this difference. 

At the very least, he could estimate it to be sometime after the both of you emerged from the stone. 

The simplest solution, perhaps, could be for him to just ask you directly. It’s the easiest way to confirm or deny hypotheses’. He would ask if you had gotten haircuts in the past, ask if you had gotten any sleep after noticing prominent circles under your eyes and sluggish movements. This was no different.

But when Senku finds himself hesitating on an evening when the two of you are working in the lab together, Senku thinks that maybe this is the different thing. For some reason, he’s slower to communicating such personal things, despite it being nothing more than simple, casual and menial conversation. 

You’ve had hundreds of conversations about a million different things over the years, from careers you aspire to pursue in earnest to the more daunting topics about love and loss. He’s seen every side of you, good and ugly, he’s heard every side of you. Every insecurity, every point of pride, about every friend who’s come and gone and stayed behind; and in a more Senku like fashion, you’ve heard the same from him, in that straightforward and logical way of communicating that you’ve always been able to see through from the wavers in his voice to the passionate glints in his eyes. 

But something is different. Something has been different. 

Yet the two of you work away in the lab as if it were any other evening, the twinkling stars in the sky he admires so much hidden away by the walls and bamboo roof. It’s what you’ve been doing since you’ve established some sort of lab to work out of ever since the petrification. Senku has felt quite disturbed by this difference of yours, but at the very least, he finds it comforting that it doesn’t affect this routine that the two of you established early on in your relationship. The content, collaborative efforts the two of you put in to create something satisfying, worthwhile; exciting. 

It’s what he’s always felt with you in your relationship. Thrill to indulge in something he’s passionate about together, thrill to create something with you, thrill to be with you--

Senku pauses his work for a moment. He shifts his gaze from the notes in front of him to where you stand just down the opposite end of the table, completely enamored with the tests you were performing. 

Something is different. He thinks, at that moment, that he’s almost figured out what. 

But the realization he was about to reach disappears from him suddenly, and he can’t seem to become conscious of the conclusion when he stares at you. He tries desperately to recall it, reach for it in his mind, through a frantic look at your features. The warm light against your skin, the gentle movement of your hands, the concentrated furrow of your brows. 

His heart feels like it might burst out of frustration the more he looks at you, and he forces himself to turn away. It’s there, it was there!

(And it still was.)

He’ll figure it out eventually.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Beef

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Requested : "Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?" EDIT: I saw this same request being written by another writer and I want to say, don't send multiple writers the same exact request. I find this super disrespectful.

This one took some turns of its own while writing, I hope it's to your liking!!

When his group first came to the community you were excited. Finally you'd have a real huntsman around to share experiences with, you had missed it so bad.

Before the fall your family owned a shop, your father a butcher and your mother a taxidermist. You and your siblings learned every skill from hunting to skinning, prepping and using each part of the animal so none would go to waste. You hadn't hunted in so long, you weren't sure if you still could hunt succesfully. Even now you'd donate large, strong antlers and bones to the blacksmith in Hilltop to use in weaponmaking. You donated the furs you didn't fashion into items yourself to the seamstresses and prepped each type of meat for meals.

But somehow the new hunter didn't take the shared interests as something positive.

He brought you animals, yes. But never without throwing a judgy look around your workplace. Even when he came in with someone else who'd compliment your clean work he'd only scoff, dump his kills and head back out.

"Sheesh, what crawled up his ass?" The large moustached man laughed. You only shrugged as you lugged the deer behind your counter. "Hell if I know. Ain't digging it out tho. He seems to be doing okay with everyone except for me.." You returned the laugh while the man who's name slipped your mind helped you put the deer on your workbench, only to quickly drop the fake smile and leaning against your workbench.

You thanked him with a sigh and he gave you that look that told you to spill your thoughts.

"Fine. It sucks he's so weird. It'd be awesome to have a partner to do all of this with and to go hunt with." You busied yourself sharpening yuour knives, clearly still annoyed by the whole ordeal. "And..?" The long winded drawl made you roll your eyes at the man's persistance.

"And he's drop dead gorgeous, okay? There. I said it. I have a crush on the man. Happy no-- Ah fuck!" Your knife hit the floor with a clatter as you grabbed at your bleeding hand.

"Alright, up and out withya. To the doc we go." You were led to the infirmary and passed the source of your annoyance on the way.

Not that you were listening, but you still caught his voice in passing. "Damn folk 'ere don't know how ta do shit." You caught his glance in your direction and if you weren't busy keeping yourself from bleeding out you'd confront him.

It was a clear message that you weren't allowed to use the injured hand for your work and risk pulling the stitches, and honestly it just hurt too much to do anything with it. It sucked even more than having to leave your old home behind. There were people counting on your work so they'd have food.

It didn't stop you from going to work and doing as much as you could one-handed. You got there extra early to make up for the extra rime everything would take now, and by the time you'd normally open you found Deanna on your steps, greeting you with her usual smile. "I knew you'd be here stil working, but I brought someone to help until your hand is better. You shouldn't be overworking yourself."

As quick as she had entered she had left again as well, leaving you with your new work companion.

The hunter.

"Good morning." You gave him the kindest smile you could, but were only given a grunt in return as he tossed a bundle of tied up small game on your desk, rounded the corner and fished for a knife to start taking them apart.

Besides you explaining where to put all the different parts of the animal you two barely spoke, until the snap of bone pulled you away from your focused work of skinning yesterday's deer. "The hell?" You turned around to go see what he was up to.

"What are you breaking bones for?" His station was a mess, he pointed at the difficult point he was cuting along. "Easier ta reach without the bone in the way." Without even looking he continued. "Ya should know tha'. Damn city girl doin' mah work."

Again with his snarky comments. You shrugged it off and went back to your own station. Yiur bkood bloiled but you weren't gonna let him get to you, you had work to get done. "Try not to do that, we can still use the bones if you keep them whole."

You tried so hard to focus on your work, skinning the deer with only one functional hand was so difficult and even though you were having extremely conflicted feelings about it you still had to ask him for help.

"Can I borrow your hands for a minute? Can't do this on my own."

You held the large deer up and moved it as Daryl cut away the skin in the most choppy manner, creating a clear line where you stopped and he started. "Can you please work a bit mote delicate? That's gonna take me ages to clean up." You huffed from keeping the deer in place, but also annoyance. Why didn't he work like a hunter? He must know the code, right?

"Why're ya so on mah ass 'bout how I work? Gon' toss it out anyways. Just need the meat, tha's it." He got snappy at the end and you just stared at him, anger clear in your eyes. "Seriously?"

You let go of the deer and stepped away from the counter. "You're sent to MY shop. To help me because I happen to fuck up my hand for the first time ever since I got here years ago and all you can do is talk shit about me?" The knife that laid on the desk before now in your good hand and pointed at his chest. "God I can't believe I even fell for your hunting woodsman charms. You're just an asshole who doesn't give a shit about these animals or the hunter's code." With a clatter the knife hit the floor as you tossed it to the side with shaking hands.

"Get the fuck out of my shop and go find me someone who cares." With angry steps you turned around and headed out of the room, needing a break to gather yourself first if you wanted to get anything else done.

Now alone in the workstation, Daryl snatched up his catch from this morning and headed out.

~~

"You did what? Pookie you gotta listen to the girl." Carol sat down next to him and snatched the cigarette from his fingers. "You know you disrespected her life's work by now following her rules in her own shop, right?"

"I'on get why tha's even important anymore. We gotta eat, tha's all." Daryl's annoyed grumbles did nothing good it seemed as Carol continued to scold him like he was a child. "Did you for one second maybe think this work is all she has left to hold onto her old world self?"

"Cept this ain't the old world no more. She's waistin' time doin' all tha extra shit."

Carol was up and at the front door by now, putting out the cigarette in one of many ashtrays there. "Alright, up with you. You're apologizing with me right now."

The two took off to your shop but found no one there. Daryl's half finished rabbit still out in the open on the table while the deer was gone. "Ain't here. I'll head back tomorro--"

"No we're not. I know where she lives, come on." Carol practically pulled him along on the way to your place despite Daryl's protests.

You were working in your basement area when you heard a knock on the front door. "Come in!" Everyone who came to your place knew the door was unlocked and was free to come and find you, seeing you were either cooking, working on lounging when you kept the front door open.

"Hey, it's Carol! Heard about your hand, need some help around the house?" She needed an excuse to get an answer and find out where you were, so when you called back she knew to head downstairs.

Meanwhile Daryl just stared around to keep his mind busy. He found rabbit skins from prey he brought in wrapped around a pair of boots. He recognized the fur seeing it was a rare color. Further into your livingroom there was a deer pelt draped over the back of your couch. Also caught by him. The white spots over the back had one small flaw from where his bolt had struck right on a white dot. He remembered being proud of his aim for a minute that day.

"Daryl, come on." Carol's whisper-yell had him roll his eyes and as he passed your coatrack he noticed the hooks were all antler parts and the knives laying in the basket on the hallway table had bone handles.

So that's why you were so angry when he snapped the rabbit's leg and skinned the deer so carelessly. You did really use everything.

The two walked down the stairs to your workshop, Carol up front with Daryl following.

"Oh wow," Carol's exclaimation had you laugh. "Yeah, I get that a lot." You stood with your back turned, struggling to hang a piece of skin.

"Here, lemme help ya." Daryl's gruff voice was suddenly right behind you and you spooked, letting go of the pelt but Daryl caught it just in time, draping it over the wire. "Like tha?" His hands stayed up there and adjusted it to your liking, having stepped back to watch him and give Carol a questioning look. She just shrugged and gestured at the man who was again staring around the room. "What brings you here?"

Daryl looked at everything except you, he knew he'd lose all ability to speak if he did. Hell, he already had a difficulty getting his words out now seeing how wrong he was for not listening to you. "Came ta say sorry." He stared at the basket of furs labeled 'Donate'. "Shoulda known better than ta get angry. 'N I get why ya work thr way ya do now." Next to the basket sat a crate filled with thick, sturdy bones labeled 'blacksmith'.

You nodded and gave him an option. "Come back to the shop tomorrow. I'll have tou clean up that deer skin you almost ruined and you're following my teachings. I'll forgive you for wasting the rabbit."

Daryl chewed at his thumb, the other hand stuffed in his pocket and fidgeting with the fabric inside. "Yeah, alright." He nodded and looked over at Carol who had the brightest smile on her face. One that screamed victory.

"We'll get out of your hair, I'll bring by some lunch tomorrow at your shop." Carol waved on her way up, and just as Daryl was about to follow her you quickly spun around to grab something. "Oh, here." You held out a thin knife wrapped in leather, a small engraving of Hilltop's blacksmith on the handle. "I saw you took the rabbits, so if you haven't prepped them yet you can try this one. They're great for smaller animals."

He stumbled over his thanks as he accepted the knife and quickly headed out after Carol.

~~

You were back at work early the next morning, painkillers and a small breakfast in your system already and hoping to finish that damn deer. It still proved a challenge to get it from the cooler onto the workbench but you managed eventually, just before Daryl came in.

"Mornin'." Hid gruff voice sounded through the workplace as he rounded the corner and placed the knife from yesterday on the table. "Thanks fer lettin' me borrow it. Worked like a charm."

You picked up the knife and held it out to him again, only to recieve a questioning grunt in return. "It was a gift. To keep."

Daryl never got gifts. Everything he had was scavenged and well taken care of for longer use these days. It felt weird to keep it but he thanked you again and pocketed it.

Meanwhile you had grabbed the deer skin and laid it out where he'd be working. "Look here, I'll show you how to clean this up and you'll go fix the rest, okay? It'll take a while but it'll be worth it." Daryl stepped up to you and observed the way you took the knife to the uneven spots of skin and carefully smoothed it all out. The precision in your work was impressive to say the least. "How long've ya been doin' this?"

You dropped a cut off piece of meat into a plastic container and thought back to the old world. "I guess ever since my parents thought I was old enough to handle knives." You held the tool out to the hunter and watched him take it from you. "Your turn. I'll be hopefully finishing that deer so just ask whatever, whenever."

You were lucky a lot of the cutting could be done onehanded, and holding back pieces was okay enough to do with your wrist or hold something down with your elbow. But now that you had all the easy access meats off and seperated you ran into a problem.

"Fuck.." You needed help. The same kind of help that had you kick him out yesterday.

"Sup? Need hands?" He was at your side in a second, waiting for your instructions.

"I need to take off the ribs but I can't." You leaned aside to point around the carcass. "If you can press down here, and there." Daryl followed your instructions and put pressure on the spots you pointed out. "Then I can take this here apart." Your movements were followed and suddenly it was way too hot in your always cold workplace. Yesterday you'd be happy if he decided thr Kingdom was a better home for him but now that he apologized and proved to better himself after your misunderstanding you were back to being the lovesick puppy Abraham had made you out to be when he brought you home after the infirmary visit.

With how Daryl held the spot clear and open you had to get close to chop through the bone and separate it all in workable bits.

"Can I take one a'those later? Michonne asked ta cook fer her kids cuz she's out 'n Carol's off ta Kingdom--" "Throw the kids an old world barbeque! I'll come help. I'm sure you're skilled in roasting over an open fire with how much you traveled." The excitement was clear in your voice, and the sudden compliments and offers of gifts and assistance had him nervously fidgeting. But thinking about having a fun experience with the kids instead of just cooking and having dinner sounded way better than his original plan, so he agreed.

"Ya got supplies ta fix tha' in half a day?"

~~

The two of you cleaned up after finishing thr needed work and while you carried the prepped meats, Daryl had the bowl firepit on a kart together with the metal rack to hang over it. Yeah, he lived in a community now but he never guessed he'd be carrying around a whole barbeque setup like he was getting ready to throw a party in the old world. "Gotta drop by tha' house fer a sec, get Jude 'n RJ."

After he got the kids and you had everything set up Daryl got the fire started while you made a quick pantry run and dug through Daryl's kitchen for anything to add to the meals.

You brought whatever you found and set it on the side of the porch steps, keeping a path to the house cleared and sat yourself down in the front lawn as you watched uncle Daryl in action, letting the kids toss wood onto the fire and poke at it with a stick but making sure they kept their distance and wouldn't touch the hot metal.

It was heartwarming to see him laugh and have fun with them and watched him speak quetly to the kids with a finger pointed your way before the two came running towards you.

"Daryl says the fire's good for food! Can we put some on the thing?" Two pairs of big, begging eyes stared at you and saying no would be the worst so of course you allowed them, under surveillance and with an assisting hand. "Alright, pick something you wanna eat first and put it on a plate, Daryl will take it to the fire and I'l helf you put it on the rack, okay?"

A chime of "Okay!" baely left them before they were at the collection of prepared meats where you and Daryl joined them in picking.

While Daryl roasted the food over the fire you were tasked go keep the kids busy, but wirh hoe much they loved chatting about everything and anything it was an easy task.

The whole evening was fun and food and family and it reminded you of everything you missed in this new world.

Everything was good in this moment, especially when you heard a little exchange between uncle and niece.

"Uncle Daryl? Can we have more dinners with her? But also mom and aunt Carol next time." You watched Daryl look towards you for a moment before turning back to Judith. "'Course, she's teachin' me ta prepare food so we can do this with e'ryone if ya want. But!" He raised his hand and pointed at RJ, who came over to him too now. "Yer gonna be the ones askin' folk ta bring food too, so e'ryone has somethin' ta eat, 'kay?"

The two happily nodding kids proved that your time in the community just got a lot more fun.

Now, after the kids were long brought to bed you and Daryl stayed around the fire. Having taken the meat rack off and set asidr you were just relaxing and picking away at the leftovers.

"So," you started, watching the flames in front of you. "That community barbeque plan of yours, it sounded amazing especially how you brought it over to the kids. But, aren't you afraid it'll drain recources too quick?"

Daryl shrugged it off. "Maybe. But those kids'll make folks keep stuff aside fer it." The idea of those two running around the place collecting people brought a smile to his face. "'Sides, I ain't wastin' meat no more with yer lessons tha' I hope ya will keep givin' me."

Oh. He wanted to stay? At the shop? With you? You were pleasantly shocked with that news. "What? Ofcourse I'll teach you. But only of you promise to take me out hunting when my hand's okay again."

He let out a breathy laugh and nodded. "Yeah, I'd love ta have ya around."

You stretched and laid down in the grass, looking up at the night sky.

"S'gonna be fun."

[vellatra]

You knitted your wedding dress?? That is so cool!

Thank you! I had two main objectives - keeping the cost of our wedding down (so we DIYed a lot), and also simply not wanting to hunt forever for something that fit my tastes. (I'd had enough of the "hunting" experience when I went shopping for a prom dress haha!)

I started in January and finished the whole thing in August, just a few short weeks before the wedding, which was on Labor Day weekend that year. Had a lot of fun with it - learned some new techniques, did lots of little fancy details (like knitting tiny beads into the fabric!), and ended up with something completely unique. :) I'd never want to do it again; there were easily millions of stitches involved. But as a one-time experience, it was pretty cool! :D

[damagdsnow]

Fix my reputation

Pairing: young!Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: You and Coryo are together for mutual benefits, he needs a well known woman by his side to look vulnerable and loving during the presidential elections and you need your reputation to be fixed after your unforgivable scandal.

Tag: fake dating, slow burn, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, manipulative/soft Snow, strong and independent reader (as she should), fluff, angst, power play, smut, fingering, thigh riding, switching sub/dom, degradation, denied orgasm, piv, dirty talk, overstimulation, oral (fem/male receiving), praise

Chapter 1, chapter 2;

aesthetic chapter one, aesthetic chapter two;

Tw: Snow being Snow, mention of alcohol, panic/anxiety attack, mention of blood, mention of parent death, physical aggression (not detailed and not from Snow)

Word count: 11.3k

note: before reading this I recommend you to read the first chapter here. Also, thank you so much for all the love and support on chapter one I didn’t expect all of this, I love you guys ❤️

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

The first time you had met Coriolanus was when Dr. Gaul had announced he was going to be her apprentice Gamemaker during the next Hunger Games.

At that time, you got a job as a health advisor, essentially you monitored tributes' vital signs and whether they were injured, you formulated unique medicine so mentors and sponsors could help their favorites heal faster and be a step ahead of the others. You were used to stitch wounds, examining patients, making prescriptions. This was a whole new thing to you. Dr. Gaul said to you that you were one of the most qualified doctors in that department, this is the reason why she pressured you to ‘amaze’ her.

”When I read your qualifications I was shocked to learn you were looking for employment,” was the first thing Dr. Gaul said to you when she requested to meet you.

You were in her laboratory, a bright room filled with gruesome creatures, dead and alive. She was standing in front of you, with her voluminous curly hair and her reddish long tunic, while she was feeding some sorta of genetically modified fish.

“I was looking for some thrilling experience,” you started fidgeting your fingers, “making me useful for the good of Panem.”

You practiced saying these words many times before meeting her, what were you supposed to say? That you desperately needed a job? That as soon as you found another position you would quit immediately?

”Your idea to formulate a drug that would help tributes in the arena?” With a long tweezer she dropped a pink cube in the small pool, ”so original,” she smiled while feeding the fishes with more cubes.

“You know what it means right? The games will last longer, people spending money on their helpless and injured tributes, mentors fighting to get the best sponsor,” she continued, her icy eyes were staring at you, “this is going to revolutionise the games.”

“I’m glad you liked my proposal,” you looked down, wondering if it was better to make eye contact with her or watch those horrific creatures with long fangs and thorny tails.

“Liked? I absolutely adore your way of thinking,” she put the tweezer back on a metal tray. “No one was able to surprise me since–” she paused and you looked back at her, ”do you know Coriolanus Snow? You two would get along well.”

At that time you wondered who he could be. Coriolanus Snow? His name sounded familiar to you. Only when Dr. Gaul introduced him to the department as an apprentice, you recognised his face.

You both graduated from the Academy, he was just a year older than you, and during the tenth annual Hunger Games his name was popular amongst students. Even though you went to the same school, you had never talked to him. Until a couple of months before the reaping, Dr. Gaul let you and other members work in her lab to do research. Of course he was there too, and chance had it that you were paired up with Coriolanus, sharing the same desk in the library section.

You could see him sitting opposite to you, his side was impressively tidy, just a black leather notepad and a book. Your half was full of microbiology volumes, agar plates and creased post-it. Coriolanus was too focused on his writing that he never gazed over you, on the other hand you were distracted by his presence. You remembered him differently in the Academy, his hair was slightly longer than before, his facial features were more defined, but the same cold aura surrounded him.

You felt kinda intimidated by him.

You’ve heard colleagues saying how brilliant he was: he won the Plinth prize in his senior year, he graduated with honors at advanced military strategies and he now had a high position as the right hand man of the pretentious Head Gamemaker.

He intrigued you.

You thought you were not the smartest person in the room. There was something in him, probably his confident behaviour while he was writing on his notebook, as if he was superior to you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, you thought of ways to start a conversation, not a small talk, but something smart to impress him.

Your heart was beating fast and you finally figured what to say, “Mr. Snow I found a better technique for–“

“What makes you think you can talk to me?” He cut you off while still writing in his notebook.

His words stunned you. The conversation you imagined in your head was now gone, what could you say at this point? “I just wanted–” you stuttered

“Don’t bother, I don’t want to know.”

Your admiration for him slowly faded each day. The way he corrected you every time you had a proposal, pointing out your mistakes in front of everyone, or when he made you work till night in the laboratory to perfectionate your research. You tolerated that, you were used to hard work and mean teachers in your university years, but sometimes he didn’t even show the slightest remorse on things he would say about the districts. About you, indirectly.

Every year on reaping day you thought that it could have been you. Your name in that little piece of paper, read out loud changing your destiny. If it wasn’t for your father’s role in the Dark Days, you could have been in that arena yourself, instead of having the privilege to control tributes’ lives in a cozy chair.

Your dad was an engineer, more a genius mastermind who designed and built high tech weapons. Specifically incendiary bombs, which were crucial to stop the rebels from invading the Capitol during the last year of the war. The project was so successful that he obtained an honorary medal from President Ravenstill himself. He was able to buy a place in the Capitol, for the only purpose to give you and your sister a better future, and you actually lived in luxury compared to your old life back in the districts. However, your father did not side with the president’s political view, still he had to conform to it or he would probably be considered a rebel.

He played the game, to stay alive. Until he was not part of that show anymore.

“I only did it for you and Darla, I don’t care about heavens or hell. As long as my family is safe, I regret nothing of the atrocities I’ve done,” were the words your father wrote to you in a letter, before being killed.

They had never been clear about the dynamics of his homicide, but you were sure it was not an incident as someone would say. The Capitol killed him, they took your dad away from you, the only person you admired, that never let you down.

Your blood was from the districts, even if you’ve lived all your life in the Capitol, you couldn’t change your origins. Coriolanus reminded you of that, with his despicable comments about how ‘horrible and disgusting’ the people from the districts were. As if you didn’t exist to him, you were not a person from his perspective. But he did not know that, no one knew you were not from the Capitol, it was only written on your official documents.

“The games are meant to remind us all who we truly are,” was something Coriolanus often said, bullshit you thought, for you the Games were an insult to humanity and civilisation, cruel entertainment for empty people.

Coriolanus Snow, such a brilliant mind but wicked thoughts.

At the same time, you were not better than him. You worked for the Head Gamemaker and indirectly supported the unnatural destiny of those children. It was easier blaming the government, the bad guys, than admitting to be part of the corrupted system you truly despised. Your excuse was that you had no choice, and partially it was true, but can money win over your beliefs? Were you so desperate to bend your morality just not to be jobless and not respectable? You were acting as your father: were you a fighter or survivor?

Little did you know that your worst nightmares were going to haunt you soon. After the incident you were unemployed, with a bad reputation and with a man you hated.

Check, check, check.

You woke up at lunch time for the third day in a row, it was like being a child again. But there wasn’t your mom taking care of you, your dad making your favorite dish or your big sister spoiling you with presents. You couldn’t ignore your responsibilities and let the adults do the big things for you. You were the adult now, but if you kept self destroying your life this way, it was like everything you’ve done vanished away. Giving up was not an option, or to put things clear, it was the easier possibility amongst the other challenging beginnings.

One of these included him.

Coriolanus was not a beginning, he was more like someone you bump into when you are in a rush, someone who wasn’t supposed to be there but that let you miss the train, made you change your destination. However, the end of the journey was a mystery, with him nothing was clear from the start.

The gala was proof that you couldn’t handle that world, it felt like everything you did made your situation in a much worse position. If it wasn’t for Coriolanus, you would’ve busted into tears on live tv, he was used to that world, lying so naturally that he convinced them.

Cameras, flashes, interviews. Not exactly what you have been preparing for all your life.

You didn’t want to remember what happened that night. Your mind replayed memories as if it was a film, but you were trying to stop it. The dancing? The photographers?

No, the kiss.

The thought of his hands on your skin, his hair on your hands, his lips against yours. The more you pushed that image away, the less it faded from your mind. How could you let him do something like that? You knew that letting him in again would only bring more chaos into your life, but at the same time, you needed to fix your mess and he was your solution.

Also, you didn’t want to acknowledge that all the attention was something you needed. Not the bad press, the misleading articles and intrusive photographers. It was the care for you, the way he defended you, the warmth you didn’t feel in a long time. You knew it was fake, just a facade, but that pretending was healing an empty spot you have been hiding for ages.

When you checked your mail, you recognised the reddish envelope. It was from Snow manor.

"Be ready at 7 pm, someone is going to pick you up.’ signed by Iris Davebonn.

Of course it was not over.

He had a plan, and he didn’t give up easily. You also had a plan, he was not the only one with something to prove, but was he the only way out to your hell? Or was he another villain in your tragedy? You had nothing to lose but everything to gain.

Coriolanus is the forbidden apple, the fruit I shall never be tempted to desire.

You opened the fridge, still sleepy but hungry. For your breakfast you had a couple of options: water and rotten eggs or rotten eggs and water. So as always you decided to steal from your neighbor’s tangerines tree, you could easily pick the fruits from your window, the advantages of living on the first floor. You knew that the old lady next door noticed your thefts, but she hated you either way so at least you gave her a reason to. Since you didn’t have a monthly paycheck anymore, you had to live with your remaining savings, but soon you were left with nothing with bills and rent to pay.

Actually, Dr. Gaul never fired you, she wasn’t as upset as Capitol people, she even congratulated you because this way The Hunger Games were discussed more on tv and newspapers. For her, the incident was a perfect strategy to make the Games popular. She even thought you did that intentionally, because in her distorted view,”it was funny seeing their faces when for the first time, a 12 years old boy from district eleven won”. Against all odds, the unknown tribute without sponsors and hope to make it alive, won the games because “I killed everybody else.”

Not as funny as she thought.

Eventually, you couldn't handle the pressure anymore and you quit. The last time you saw her she persuaded you to be by her side the next year, “if you did that by accident, I wonder what you could do purposely.” You never considered that offer, you didn’t have to work there in the first place. If only you could go back, maybe… Maybe, everything would’ve gone differently.

The world fell apart when you heard the sound of cannon in that room. Everybody was cheering for that girl from district two, the favorite, the one that won Capitol’s heart during the interviews. The lovely Rea, the brave tribute that was bit by an horrific dog. That creature cannot be defined as a ‘dog’, more like a venomous lion with a crocodile mouth. Your role was to make a medicine that could heal her wound. Sponsors asked it, her mentor was willing to pay whatever price to save her, the Capitol was betting every penny on her.

The pressure was such that you mistakenly switched two drugs and gave her the other for the boy from District three. Fatal mistake.

You were their only hope but you became the death of them.

Relying on somebody else was the last thing you wanted, especially if it was Coriolanus Snow. You didn’t want to need him. But there you go, on your way to his house. Again.

An avox opened the door for you and silently you followed her to the living room. Iris and Coriolanus were both standing near a star shaped glass table surrounded by small couches, you wondered what their conversation was about because they stopped talking the moment you walked in.

“Speaking of the devil,” Coriolanus said looking at you, he was wearing a white shirt and black pants, his hair was messy as if he woke up a couple of minutes ago.

”There she is,” Iris stepped towards you, opening her arms, “the new star of Panem,” she hugged you like you were an old friend she hadn’t seen in a while, it didn’t feel as awkward as you thought, it felt sincere.

”I think you meant a fallen star,” you laughed hugging her back.

”Honey, the gala was a success!” She said with a warm smile.

You perceived his blue eyes gazing at you, the same look he gave you when you were walking with him arm by arm at the gala.

Why is he staring? Am I wearing something inappropriate? Or is it just the indecipherable look he always has?

“Did you read the newspaper?” Iris pointed at the glass table in front of you but you were distracted by a bowl full of pastries to even pay attention to her.

You leaned forward to read the page but your sight was too blurry. The tangerines were the only thing you ate since this morning, not really an energetic meal. You sat on the small couch and you put the newspaper close to your face, nose almost touching the page, squinting to have a better view.

“Are you blind?” Coriolanus said with an annoyed tone, he tore away the paper from your hands.

”I don’t have my glasses with me,” you lied, you have never worn glasses in your entire life.

You rubbed your temples trying to see clearly again and you swiftly took what seemed to be a pink cookie from the tray on the table. What flavour was that? You tried to make a straight face while chewing that sugary stuff, at least your body was eating something.

“To make things short— they think we are the couple of the moment,” Coriolanus started while reading the page, “that everybody was shocked— bla bla,” he rapidly said, “oh and they mentioned my name four times!”

“No, Mr. Snow, if you have to do something you have to do it right,” Iris intervened, taking the newspaper from his hands.

She sat down on the couch near yours and started reciting the article, reading word by word.

“Is love in the air? In Capitol City probably is.” She read the first line,“what a great title isn’t it?” Iris commented

“Go on or we are going to stay here all night,” Coriolanus said.

You looked at him, he was standing up making you feel inferior, like a shadow looming over you.

“After the unsettling events happened in the last Hunger Games, there is finally some hope in our community. The aspiring president Coriolanus Snow showed up with someone not-so-new in the latest gala before the presidential campaign.”

“ ‘not so new’ so kind of them—” you said and he shushed you. How dare he?

“She studied medicine and has worked with the Head Gamemaker for the past year. Rumor has it that for some kind of incident, she was the cause of the premature death of two tributes.”

Iris took a breath. “Unexpectedly, last night Coriolanus proudly walked with her for the very first time in public. Both dressed in white, representing the noble Snow name, they conquered the attention of the media and the crowd. Are they the couple of the moment?” She smiled while looking at you, “the best part is about to come.”

“If we are basing the answers on the way they look at each other, they definitely stole our hearts. We are looking forward to seeing how this unexpected love will grow.”

You laughed, that was too corny for you, was it possible that they truly believed that little show you made?

”Will Coriolanus Snow win the election the same way he won her heart? Right now we are in love with both of them.” Iris finished.

“Did they really write an article about our possible love story?” You took another cookie, green this time, “they really are bored people.”

”You should be happy they didn’t talk about what happened in the arena,” Coriolanus said but you couldn’t see him, he was standing behind you.

“Well, they mentioned it anyway,” you said while chewing that lemon pastry, or was it mint? For a moment you thought it was better starving than eating whatever thing it was.

”Thanks to me they probably will give you a chance,” he said.

”The tone they used– it was like they think you are doing charity by being with me.”

“Well it kinda is–”

”Oh shut up,” you stand up, turning to him, “your name has never been this many times in a newspaper.” You were close to him, and even if you were not sitting anymore, you felt small standing there facing him.

His eyes were still examining you, as if you were a book written in a language he couldn’t read.

“You two look like siblings fighting over meaningless things,” Iris said, stepping in, getting in the middle of you.

“See? Even Iris thinks you are being overly dramatic.”

You fought the urge to answer back, did he just call you over-dramatic?

“Honey, look who's talking,” Iris said pointing a finger at him, “you are not really easy to work with,” then she turned over to you, “in just one day people fell for your fairytale, imagine what you can do in a month.”

“Do you really think this can work?” You avoided looking at him behind her shoulder.

“They don’t care about what you did, you are just another distraction from their empty life,” she explained to you, “they need something else to talk about.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, there are more important things,” Coriolanus said, “such as the presidential elections.”

”Is there something else you can say instead of politics and fame?”

”What do you want me to tell you? My sad story about when I mixed some drugs in the laboratory?” He stepped closer, ”oh no, that is something you always talk about.”

”I liked you better when you ignored me,” you said remembering the first time you tried to have a conversation with him.

“Stop please,” Iris said, “you two should bond more, this atmosphere is making me wanna retire early,” she touched her hair, orange this time, “maybe you will like each other.” She walked away from your sight.

“It's going to be tiring enough pretending to like him in public,” now there was just the glass table separating you from him.

“So this is a yes, you are going to do this,” his face lightened up.

“It seems this charade it’s working,” you said convincing yourself that was your best chance of getting your reputation back.

Did you just sign a pact with the devil?

He is the forbidden apple. But it doesn’t mean I can’t just play with it.

“Before I forget,” you heard Iris voice coming from the door entrance, “next week dinner with the Holdens and Suncots,” she was putting her yellow coat on, “they gladly accepted the invite here,” then she put her gloves on, “see you tomorrow—oh and try to bond you two,” she pointed a finger at him before closing the door and leaving you alone with Coriolanus.

You looked at the clock above the coat hanger and it was getting late, but you had nowhere else to be at that moment. No one waiting for you at home, no one expecting your call, nothing to do the next day.

“Tigris is going to design another dress for you,” he said referring to the dinner.

“Can’t I just wear something I already have?” The thought of him deciding what color and style your dress had was not something you tolerated.

“Of course not— do you dine here or?” That didn’t sound like an invite, more as if he was suggesting you go home.

“So kind, I’ll pass,” you said with a sarcastic tone.

”I asked because you almost devoured the entire jar of pastries.” He smiled, waiting for your reaction.

”For the record, they are tasteless.”

He rolled his eyes, “the car is waiting for you outside,” he turned his back and walked towards the kitchen.

”I can walk, I don’t need your personal driver,”

Your words stopped him right in his tracks, ”what if you get lost? How could I do without you?” He said jokingly, turning over to see you, “and it’s fifteen minutes away, in the dark— don’t be a child and go by car, you’ll get used to it.”

You didn’t answer, not like you had something to say. Of course you would’ve accepted the ride, your apartment was too far from his house, you just wanted to irritate him. Maybe you were not so different from Coriolanus, you were playing the same game.

Car rides make you recall only good memories. Your dad got a car when you were little, it was gray and smaller than this one, and he used to drive you to school everyday. Until you got into university and you moved to your current house, it was ten minutes from university so you got used to walking.

The engine stopped and you stepped out of the car, it was cold outside and you wished you had heating at home, a luxury you couldn’t afford anymore.

You fumbled with the keys trying to open the door, you were freezing and you rushed because you heard some steps. You didn’t want to have a conversation with your neighbor, she’ll probably just scold you about the stolen tangerines and how loud you shut the door when you go out, the old same story. You finally walked inside  but someone blocked you from closing the door. It was a young man, probably in his thirties, he had a tiny recorder on his hand and you immediately clicked. 

“Hi, I’m from Capitol’s People Magazine, I wanted to ask you some questions about your relationship with Coriolanus Snow,” he said pointing you to the black device.

”I’m sorry— for interviews, talk to my manager,” you said with a kind tone.

Iris suggested that every time journalists asked you questions you did not want to answer, you had to say those words, and now was the case. You slowly closed the door but the man put his feet in between.

”How could the heir of one of the most influential figures be with a corrupted woman like you?” He looked at you with eyes full of anger.

Corrupted woman, this was new to you. What was the correct answer to that? 

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled while trying to close the door by pushing it against his feet but he was not intending to leave you alone.

He aggressively tried to wedge his foot into the door, forcing it to stay open while he continued to badger you with invasive questions about the gala.

”Are you planning on ruining his image while stealing his money?” He reached your arm and grabbed it. 

“What’s wrong with you?” His grip was getting tighter as you tried shoving him. 

He was strong enough to smash the door open, stepping inside your house. With his hand on your wrist, he roughly pushed your body against the wall, your back facing him as he stood behind you, your heart pounding outside your chest.  

“You are just a crazy bitch,” he whispered, “you think you can fool them but are a disgrace for Panem,” he pushed your head against the wall, one side of your face hitting the coarse plaster making your skin burn. 

“Get off me! ” you shouted, struggling against his grip.

In response he hit your head again against the wall. You squinted your eyes in pain as a tear streamed down your face, you felt powerless, everything happened so fast.

“Tell me what you want from me,” you said with a weak voice.

“After all you did, you should shut the fuck up and do what you are asked to do,” he put his hand on your scalp as he pushed you harder against the wall. 

You screamed like you never did in your entire life, someone had to hear your cry for help, right? But he was quick to cover your mouth with his palm and that was the perfect occasion for you to bite his skin. He kept his hand on your mouth while he choked on his own screams. 

Your muffled howl echoed in the room but no one seemed to hear you. Or so you thought. Someone grabbed the man from his collar and pushed him away from you. It was the driver, his tall figure was now beant down to beat that man. You were paralyzed, now your back was against the wall and your lungs finally breathing, but your body was unable to answer your brain’s orders. 

”Run!” The driver screamed at you while punching the man one more time, “go in the car! Run!” 

You ran towards the car but your legs felt weak and your head too heavy. You opened the car door and you laid down in the back seats. What the hell just happened? 

What if he came back? What if next time there is not someone to save you? Your anxiety grew inside your chest and you kept yourself from crying. 

“Are you okay, Miss?” The driver asked breathlessly as he violently closed the front car door with a rush, “should I take you to the hospital?” He was looking at you, he had an old scar on his cheek that you didn’t notice before.

You shook your head, “I just need water” you mouthed, trying to maintain a regular breathing.

“Thank you for saving me,” you whispered.

You looked at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes reflecting the street lights while he was driving as if nothing happened, as if his bloody knuckles on the steering wheel were not hurting.

After minutes that seemed hours he talked, “It is my duty,” he said, “Mr. Snow wouldn’t have forgiven me.”

Coriolanus was in his study preparing a speech for the next interview, he had to be careful to pick the perfect words, to speak with the right tone, and to make the adequate facial expressions. Nothing was left to case. Every single action had to be meticulously studied and calculated.

It was his specialty. Playing with words and making people fall in love with his charm. He did it naturally, molding people the shape he wanted. Because he had to have everything under his control, his power, his eyes.

For the first time he was struggling. He was stuck on the opening line and he didn’t know how to continue. Sleepless nights and alcohol were the usual in the past week. This was one of the nights. Locked in his study until he wrote something of that speech, depriving himself from sleep.

Coriolanus was walking around the room, fidgeting with a pen on his long fingers. Until his mind-wandering was stopped by a firm knock on the door, annoyed it could be an Avox, he ignored it. But the knocking didn’t stop.

He let out a sigh as he unlocked the doorknob, “how many times do I have to tell–” to his surprise, the driver showed up at his door, “Virma, what are you doing here?”

Coriolanus soon found the answer to his question by looking over the driver’ shoulder. You were hidden behind his back, like a hurt animal scared of its fate. You didn’t want to come here, like a lost child brought back home. But where were you supposed to be? What place instead of his?

Your ruffled hair, your smeared makeup and your empty look. It didn’t take long for him to understand something happened. A sense of anger grew inside of him. This was not written in a script, it was not meant to happen and when things did not go according to plan, Coriolanus lost his composure, he could have been unpredictable.

His face darkened. He grabbed your arm and he dragged you in his study, along with Virma. You felt his hand on your wrist, his touch was something familiar to you, maybe gentle, as if he was actually worried about you. He pushed Virma to the side and closed the door behind him, casting you both in the dim light of his opulent study.

You were now facing him, his expression was different from an hour ago. His hand traveled to your face, his fingers lifting your chin as he leaned to have a better view of you. The left side of your face was scraped, fresh cuts burned on your temple as droplets of blood trailed your skin. Coriolanus traced his fingertips on your bruised skin and you flinched, instantly regretting the movement as a flash of pain shot through your head, but he was not rough like that man. He loosened his grip on your arm, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of your injuries. He was delicate, as if he was touching something fragile. 

You were too focused on his expression to even pay attention to your sore skin. His knitted brows, his parted lips and his concerned look.

“Who did this to you?” His voice barely above a whisper, he glared down at you as he inspected your figure, as if he was looking for other scratches he missed.

You could almost feel the tension radiating from him.

His hand was now on your neck, fingers touching the back of your head, “a journalist, I don’t–” you looked down, “he was asking questions but I–"

“Mr. Snow, I think I know who he is ,” the driver said and for a moment you forgot he was in that room, “he is Lucius Cliffhard' son.”

"Cliffhard' son? The father is running for president why would he–” Coriolanus didn’t finish his sentence and he looked back at you, “thank you for your service Virma,” his hand left your neck leaving a warm spot, “we will talk about it later.”

You heard the door closing and now you were left alone with him. You could barely stand up, your adrenaline was leaving your body and your anxiety was taking its place.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he walked towards the opposite side of the room, looking for something in the small bathroom of his study.

You were standing in the shiny black floor, your heart was pounding so loud you could not hear your weak voice, “he probably was waiting for me to come home because the moment I opened the door he uhm—“ you stuttered, "started asking questions but I didn't answer, so he pushed me against the wall and his hand was on my mouth—“ you paused, ”he hit my head and—“ you felt a lump on your throat and you hoped he didn’t hear you.

His steps were again echoing the room, his figure walking closer to you. He had a piece of cotton wool in his hands and without a notice he held it against your scratches by cupping your face with his other hand. It was burning your skin, his fingertips were slightly brushing your neck while he dabbed gently the cotton to clean the wounds on your temple.

”Continue talking,” he said nonchalantly as he tilted your head to have a better view of tour left side of the face.

You stopped breathing in that moment, maybe because of the nauseating smell of the disinfectant or maybe it was because he was inches away from you, his focused look on the bleeding cut, “I think he just wanted to scare me,” you managed to say in a steady tone.

The blonde snapped his head at you, his blue eyes now on yours, “he is a psychopath,” his scent reminded you of that night at the gala, “he hit you because you didn't want to be interviewed, he could've killed you."

You reached his hand where he was pressing the cotton wool and for a moment your fingers brushed before he removed his hands from your skin. “you are exaggerating– he just needs help, ” you said.

Coriolanus closed his eyes, he clenched his fists and the knuckles turned white. He walked towards the desk and he poured himself a drink, taking a long burning sip. You watched him in silence as you inspected the reddish cotton on your hands.

“Do you trust him so much you want to come back to your house?” He was behind his desk, arms resting above the chair, “I told you, here you could have been safer from the media,” he raised his voice, “but you are stubborn, you risked your life and– if it wasn’t for Virma who knows what could have happened,” he said nervously while pouring himself a drink.

“So now it’s my fault?” You bawled at him.

“You don’t understand that now whatever happens to you affects me,” he said, “what are they going to say when they see your bruises and god forbid— he writes an article saying who knows what lies of what happened.”

“See? You don’t care about my safety, you only care about what they think,” you stepped closer to him because he wasn’t even looking at you, “you want me as your puppet, so you can have me under your control— your house, your peacekeepers, your scripts— it’s all part of your plan,” you said.

”You are free to go back to your pathetic life if that’s what you want," he took a sip of his drink, still looking down, “I can’t save you from yourself, after all– you were miserable before and now too,” it was like venom coming from his lips.

A tear streamed down your face, “this is what I hate about you,” you scoffed, “you are a selfish and heartless man, I was right from the start.”

You have called him only good names: uncaring, unaffectionate, disrespectful, selfish and heartless. The list was getting longer.

“What did you expect? I thought it was going to be easier with you but you are getting on my nerves,” he stood up walking towards you, “you should be grateful— but no, you like acting so superior to me,” his chest was getting closer to you.

You scoffed, “why? Who are you?” You looked up at him through your lashes, “just a rich spoiled kid who is playing at being the next president of Panem.”

“And you fucking need me,” he said against your cheek, “this is why you didn’t leave, you don’t want to admit that without this ‘heartless man’ standing in front of you who knows where you could be right now,” his eyes were consuming you.

”Look who's talking,” you pointed a finger at him, “the Capitol's favorite toy who needs a ‘miserable girl’ to make him popular.”

Coriolanus placed his free hand on your wrist, squeezing it lightly, “you like this am I right?” He licked his lips, “talking back at me, uh?”

His nose was touching yours, his grip was burning your skin and you could feel his hot breath mixing with yours. The blonde was dangerously close to you, but you missed that feeling. Have you already erased what he has said to you? Was he so powerful to make you fall for his spell?

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

His lips brushed yours, memories flooding back to you. You didn’t know if he was about to bite you or kiss you. It would have hurt you either way.

“Tell an Avox to prepare your room,” he said, “or freeze in the streets, I don’t care— your choice.” Coriolanus let your arm go and he walked away from your sight.

It started to be just for show but the backstage was even worse than the real life. At the same time you could not give up on this play, you had to change your rules, your morals, to keep being with him.

So you were alone in the dark in the hallway, thinking about running away or staying.

Coriolanus could not win this way, you hated to admit you still needed his presence to fix your reputation. The darkness seemed to swallow you as you hesitated, torn between your principles and the pull of his influence. He had too much power right now, but you were willing to wait, by making things your own terms.

As you stood there, unwilling to give in to his manipulations, the lingering memory of his touch warred with the sharpness of his words. You slammed the door shut for him to hear you, he would have to do better to get you away from him. 

Coriolanus could have touched your face as if you were the rarest creature on earth but the same lips once brushed yours, could tell the most hurtful things to you.

But you did that too. You were both craving the same sin. But too proud to admit on your faces.

“Is everything okay now?” You were in Tigris room, a colorful space barely illuminated by the outside light. It was in the basement, not really a cozy place to work.

You were talking about the aggression that happened a couple of days ago, nothing you wanted to recall actually, especially your conversation with Coriolanus, but you didn’t tell her that.

”Yes, the bruises are healing over,” you answered, touching your temple.

Tigris smiled at you while taking your measurements. She didn’t look like her cousin, apart from the blonde hair, she was pure and kind hearted. Why was an angel like her on earth with people like you? Like him?

“Why are we doing this again?” You asked “Didn’t you already have my measurements?”

You were standing on a stool, only wearing your undergarments while Tigris was putting the tape measure around your chest.

”Coryo sent me a note telling me that last time the dress was a little loose,” that was the last thing you could ever expect to hear from her, because it was in fact true, he noticed that.

“He did what?”

“I know, I was surprised too,” she smiled, “anyway, I read the newspaper.”

Oh no, you didn’t want to talk about that too.

“You two look great in the picture,” she handed you a wrinkled page where you could see a black and white photo of you and Coriolanus at the gala, he was looking at you while holding your waist.

You didn’t know about the existence of that picture until now. That night you were too starved to even pay attention to the newspaper, how could you miss that?

“It was so strange seeing him with a woman,” she commented while looking for some fabric.

“What do you mean? Has he ever had a girlfriend?” You knew the answer to that question but you wanted to hear from her.

“More like ‘girls’ than ‘girlfriends’, ” she laughed, “I’ve never met one of them,” Tigris wrapped a red cloth around your waist.

“Well, not that I’m special,” you looked at the mirror in front of you, “it’s just a stupid show.”

“What a shame,” she folded the excess fabric on your side and put a needle, “I liked you,” Tigris whispered.

You wished you could do something for her, she deserved more than a molded little room and a cousin like Coriolanus.

“So we are seeing each other more often, am I right?” she broke the awkward silence.

“Yes, Iris forced me to stay in this house,” Iris was really in apprehension when she saw your bruises, she lectured you on how people are vicious and in your ‘situation’ it was better not risking more.

“How lucky, aren’t I?” You added.

“I know my cousin can be– difficult to understand but,” she walked behind you, “there are some things that brought him to be this way,” her fingers tighten the fabric on your back, “and of course he’s not a saint, he just needs something– someone perhaps, to make him remember who he really is.”

“I can’t fix him,” you glanced at her reflection in the mirror, “I’m broken as much as he is and– we are incompatible.”

“As the sun and the moon?”

“Maybe.”

The comparison did fit well.

One is the star planets gravitate around, the only source of light at the center of the solar system. The moon is a small satellite whose only purpose is to spin around the earth, showing only one face and depending only on the planet's gravitational field.

Coriolanus wanted to appear like the sun, bright and powerful but he only displayed one face like the moon. You felt small, needing for something to orbit around as the moon did, but you didn’t know how radiant and capable you actually were, exactly like the sun.

Since you moved in his house, nights were longer than the others. It was getting harder to fall asleep because of your intrusive thoughts keeping you awake.

Is the door locked? Am I safe here?

The positive side was that your new room was probably bigger than your whole apartment. Then, you were not freezing anymore and you were finally eating food, not stolen fruit and smelly milk.

Even though you were living in his house, you tried avoiding his presence: by not having lunch the same hour as him, by going out your room only when you heard his door locking or having your usual meetings with Iris before him. That was your way of saying that he could not control your life, especially when he treated you the way he did.

However, that was still his house.

Red silky bed sheets, roses scent, his gold engraved initials on objects.

Coriolanus was not easy to forget. It was as if he had poisoned the air you were breathing, everything reminding you of him. The good and the bad. You promised yourself to not be tempted anymore, he was mercilessly manipulating you into believing he was the person he wanted to appear at the Capitol. But other than his mesmerizing eyes, his golden curls and delicate hands, there was another man hiding in his shadow. You had to picture that side of him every time he teased you, or you could be a sinner.

You were laying on the bed, leafing through the pages of the brand new script it was sent to your room. This was even worse than the other. Not only you had to remember some political matters regarding the current campaign, but you had to pretend again how good of a man Coriolanus was. How he supported and cared for you and how bright your plans as a couple were.

“I was extremely lucky to meet him, he is the sun to my dark days,” what an irony, “I am looking forward to living this exquisite love fully by his side.”

So cheesy for what?

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

You heard a muffled voice coming from the hallway, you walked towards the door but you didn’t answer. It was him of course, after the bad there was the good. He surprisingly tried talking with you on other occasions, but you had walked away before he could even finish his sentence, running away was easier, or god knows what you could’ve done.

“I can hear your heavy breathing,” he said close to the door, “open the door or I will,” he was waiting for your response, thinking about what he could say to get your attention. “Please?” Good manners are always the right answer, right? Right?

You let out a sight as you unlocked the door. Coriolanus was standing close to the room’s entrance, his arm was leaning against the wooden jamb and you noticed he was wearing his coat, as if he was about to go out.

“Oh so you’re alive,” he said, “I was worried about you.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but it didn’t matter either way. Right?

“What do you want?” You were still holding the doorknob, not letting him step inside the room.

“Come with me, we have to go somewhere,” he said with a rush in his tone.

“I kindly refuse your invitation,” you were about to close the door but he put his hand in between. I could squash his fingers, you thought, nothing he could not recover from.

Coriolanus rolled his eyes, “sooner or later you will have to pretend to like me,” his face was partially illuminated by your room light, making his eyes brighter.

You looked at his long fingers keeping the door open, he had his usual shiny ring on his index finger and for a moment you thought you could really squash his hand, “I think it’s better we have less interactions possible apart from the social events.”

“It’s been days since people saw us together, yesterday they asked about you at the debate,” he hissed, “see? Instead of asking about my political project they were– nevermind, just come with me.” His eyes were begging you, such a satisfying image.

“I’m not dressed up, what a pity,” you said mockingly.

He peeked at your figure, “you’re fine.”

You did not feel fine. You weren’t even wearing your clothes, you did not had the chance to pack up your things from your apartment and you had to ask Tigris for some piece of clothing that could fit you. She gave you some of her designs, a green matcha wool skirt matched with a cotton white top. At least you were about to wear pretty clothings, not your old unironed shirts.

“Just for show,” you said while grabbing a jacket.

“Just for show,” he echoed.

You realised that in this game of power and appearances, keeping your distance wasn't an option anymore. You knew that you were now entwined in a dangerous dance with Coriolanus, one that could lead to momentous success or catastrophic ruin. The stakes were high and your mixed feelings towards him could not interfere with your plan, he was not the only manipulator anymore.

“Where is he bringing me?” you asked Virma after fifteen minutes of silence in the car. It was better not talking directly to Coriolanus when possible.

“Miss, isn’t this a date? Enjoy the ride,” the driver said with a smile.

You and Coriolanus laughed. Date? The only date you were looking for was the date this show would end. The car stopped and from the window you immediately recognised the place. It was not a fancy restaurant, a loud club or someone’s wealthy mansion.

First date with Coriolanus Snow at… the Citadel?

That was not what the script said.

You heard the car speeding away as he walked towards the huge grey entry, he unlocked the door and he stepped inside. You stood on the sidewalk, not sure if you wanted to follow him, it was too late to change your mind and too dark to be alone outside.

At least ten peacekeepers were guarding the entrance but Coriolanus walked towards the grey corridor unbothered. The first time you were there, you were searched as if you were a prisoner, as if you could hide a bomb inside your small pockets. This time they did not even consider you, because you both spent months working day and night in that cold laboratory.

The elevator plunged down at least twenty floors, the dark walls were so thick you could strain your vocal chords for hours but no one would hear you. You were standing beside him, waiting for the door to open as soon as possible. The only sound echoing in that place was the loud machinery that was slowly moving down.

“Did you miss this place so much you wanted a guided tour by me?” You asked, breaking the silence, “or is it a surprise party for me?” Five floors left, “tell me now so I put my best smile for the cameras,” you said mockingly, but he didn’t even look at you.

Couldn’t this man laugh for once? So boring.

The elevator doors parted and you finally stepped inside the laboratory. It was an open space divided into three areas. The center was where Dr. Gaul did experiments with animals, occasionally it was also where she did her lectures and exams; one side was the sterile area where the researchers did surgical operations and medical trials where they often experimented with new drugs on genetically modified animals; on the other side, there was the library and research tables, where you mostly spent most of your time studying advanced biotechnology methods.

“How romantic– I guess what people are going to say when I tell them for our first date you took me to see these sweet and lovely creatures,” you said as you looked at the wall glass with dead beasts inside clear yellowish cases.

“You should keep the bar low with me— and I just need to find some documents, you know this laboratory better than me,” he removed his coat and stepped towards the library on the other side of the room.

“You tricked me– you just wanted a favor from me,” your voice echoed and you were not sure he heard you. You walked through the library looking for him.

“I’m in the archives section,” his voice was not far away.

The library was arranged in a circular pattern, as if the bookshelves were layers and in the very core there was a large space with study desks, the ones you had slept on many nights back when you worked there. Soon you found the blonde leaning over a desk while reading some pages in an orange envelope.

“Did you find it?” You asked in an annoyed tone.

“Here there is– this is your file,” he said while standing up.

“My what now?” You walked over him, intended to grab the envelope with the 'confidential' print on the cover.

Coriolanus stepped back, leaning his back on the bookshelf behind him, “given your precedents, I thought it was better to check your past before they did,” he had already read your file a long time ago, but he didn’t tell you that.

He started reading the first page, “you uhm graduated with honors in medicine– bla bla bla first student in your class, —okay here, you specialized in general surg— oh no you did not” he paused, “yet?” Coriolanus looked at you with a puzzled face, suggesting you to say something.

“I will this year,” you looked at your fingers, fidgeting with the ends of your jacket.

“Lie number one, here it says you didn’t pay the tuition,” he pointed at the paper.

Fuck. You couldn’t afford paying for electricity, imagine the university fees, in the most expensive city in Panem. You stuttered something but he continued talking.

“Anyway, you got a place in the Ranvistill Clinic —impressive— and then you mysteriously asked for a transfer after two years, and this is how you got here,” he looked at you, “what happened?”

Was that a tricky question? This conversation was making you uncomfortable. You felt under trial, as if you were accused of crimes, Coriolanus was the judge and you were the only one defending yourself.

“Is this an interview? I didn’t know that apart from being interested in writing scripts you also were a human resource guy,” you tried switching the topic, the conversation was getting too personal.

“Do you have something to hide? I must be prepared for anything they can ask me,” he frowned.

You had many secrets you hoped he didn’t already know, “I changed jobs, that’s it.”

“You failed my test,” he chuckled, “you lied straight to my face in a serious matter –this is lie number two.”

“A test? What the hell Coriolanus.” You sighed as you walked over a desk, sitting on it.

“See? This is why you don’t have my trust.”

The man that cannot be trusted was really talking about trust?

“If you already know every detail of my life, why are you talking with me?”

“Oh, I knew it was going to bother you —anyway no, there’s just something that does not add up.” His eyes went again on that file, hands leafing through pages.

“Which is,” you said with a passive tone.

“Clodius South, head of the surgery department —or I should say, your umh— ex boyfriend?” He closed the folder and put it carelessly on the shelf behind him.

Your heart skipped a bit, “I’m done,” you stood up but he came closer to you.

“Answer just one question, I'm curious– why did he fire you? I mean, officially you transferred but I know it wasn’t voluntary,” he didn’t seem to give up, his look was pleading for answers, “so strange, you had been together for a year.”

“Why are you so interested in my sentimental life? You don’t have a chance with me, you know that right?” You laugh, feeling the tension in the air.

“There is no such risk, I’m not attracted to you,” his figure blocked you from walking away, “I just need your popularity, so I can fix it to something good.”

“You were the one kissing me in the car,” you bit your tongue, that kiss was something you didn’t want to bring up, it was better to forget about it. However, the other option was talking about your past, not something you were proud of.

“Oh please as if you didn’t want to,” he tilted his head, eyes locked on yours.

You laughed at his words, “you wish,” your back leaned against the desk.

“Then why did you kiss me back? I remember you didn’t let me breathe for a moment.”

“That was part of the show, Coriolanus Snow.”

“Now you use my full name? Last time I checked you called me differently,” he rested his arm on the desk you were lying on, making his height the same as yours.

You damned the only time it slipped from your lips calling him Coryo, a nickname you promised yourself to not say ever again.

“Why? Did it turn you on?”

His other hand was near your leg, slowly moving closer to your exposed skin.

“You can’t even imagine,” he swiftly looked down to your lips then back to your eyes.

The room did not feel cold anymore. Your breathing was getting slower, his parted lips warming your skin, his arm grazing your leg.

“So tell me, what happened with him?” Coriolanus insisted, but you had other plans in mind.

He was in power right now, he brought you here just to humiliate you with your deepest secrets. Weren't you just a miserable girl? It was your turn to make him feel miserable.

“You say you’re not attracted to me but you always find an excuse to touch me,” you whispered to his ear, his curls brushing your nose and his hand slightly brushing your leg.

This would have made him back off, telling you how stupid you are to think something like that, gaslighting you about the fact he never did such things like touching you.

“If it bothers you so much why you never push me away,” his hand traveled up to your leg, “go on, I’m waiting,” his fingers were now brushing your thigh and you felt his cold ring against your skin.

Fuck. That was not your plan.

You can always get back to it.

“I know your limits— I bet you barely touched a woman in your life,” you knew it was not true, you only said it as a provocation, to hurt his fragile ego as you planned.

I won.

”I don’t have limits, and we both know you would lose your bet,” his hand went under the hem of your skirt, making you shiver in surprise.

His index finger traced the outline of your panties, slightly playing with the waistband. Coriolanus didn’t break eye contact with you, his pupils were wide, you couldn’t see the blue that usually painted his iris, he was breathing slowly with parted lips, as if he wanted to control his heartbeat. And his hand felt so warm and familiar, so close to your core.

You knew that look, the one that he gave you when he let his guard down. The same look Coriolanus had when you came in his study a couple of days ago, his other side that he rarely showed to anyone.

His palm rested on your bare naked thigh.

“You don’t talk now?” His voice soothed your face, “tell me to stop and I will.”

That was the perfect occasion to slap that smug from his face, but you couldn’t even make up a coherent sentence. His voice was a gentle whisper cutting through the tension, but all you could manage was to stare at his eyes, trying to calculate his next move.

You knew what it was. It was a dangerous game you were playing, one that could shatter your plan. Did you have something to lose? You have already bent your morals, risked your life and crossed lines you never thought you would. Coriolanus would have been another crime to add to your list.

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

But what if I took just a bite? A taste of mortal sin.

“Why did you bring me here?” You managed to say trying to control your breathing.

“You once asked me why did I chose you,” Coriolanus whispered to your ear, “and I told you that it was for the presidential campaign,” his hand moved up again, “publicity, press and interviews— I only care about that,” his fingers were covering your clothed cunt.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your back was still leaning against the desk edge, his other arm on your side. His words were not making things easier for you, not because you were listening to what he actually was saying, but because his tone of voice was something you could only hear in these moments. When he acted good, for the cameras, for the show. But there was no one in that room.

Coriolanus kept talking, “but my point is, why didn't you leave?” His index finger circled around your covered core, “I mean— I could list a few reasons why, considering also how wet you are right now,” he pulled your panties to the side, exposing your wetness. “But you always say you hate me, that you despise me, why are you here then? Are you so desperate?”

Your eyes were closed, your mind wandered prohibited thoughts while his hand was painfully too far away from what your body needed. What could you say to him? That he was right about being so desperate to pretend to be with him, so you could clean your image? That despite his selfish behavior he was tempting you into falling in his game?

Coriolanus brushed your soaked entrance with his fingertips as he massaged your clit with your own wetness. You shamefully spread your legs giving him more access to your folds, his digits that once touched your face were gently rubbing your needy center.

Your silent whimpers were enough as an answer for him to slide one finger inside you.

Your hand was now on his biecep, grabbing his arm so tightly or you could fall. There was something in you that was holding you back from punching him to his face. Was this the charm everyone talked about? Was this the version of him everyone adored?

“Given that you prefer remaining silent— I can tell you why,” his hand moved inside you, “you like the attention,” your cheek was against his, while your other hand rested on the nape of his neck.

Your reaction to his movements made him close his eyes in bliss, but you were too focused on not making sounds that you didn’t notice his expression. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that he was making you feel good.

“I bet you’ve barely been touched by a man,” Coriolanus echoed.

It’s just one bite of the apple.

You looked at him this time, and you wished you did it before. The blue in his eyes, his plump lips, the glistening on his forehead covered by his falling blonde curls. An angel.

No, no, he is the devil, not an angel.

“Wrong,” you breathed and his pace fastened, “actually they were better than you,” you whispered and his eyes widened.

“Lie number three,” he slid another finger, “I can tell when you’re pretending and when you’re not,” he brushed your clit with his thumb.

Oh.

You bucked your hips to make some friction, Coriolanus was painfully slow as if he was taking all the time in the world. He leaned his head to your left temple, where small reddish bruises were fading away from your skin, and he planted feather kisses on it. Coriolanus slowly traced a trail of wet kisses alongside your face. His soft lips were healing your bruises, his hand was igniting your core.

His fingers moved faster, pumping in and out your hole and slightly curled to hit exactly your sweet spot. Your little moans echoed in the room along with the sloppy sound of his hand never leaving your cunt. Coriolanus stroked your bundle of nerves once more, his lips sucked a spot behind your hear, slowly moving down your neck, marking your delicate skin with his warm kisses.

That was it. You were sure your high was coming in a matter of seconds, your mouth curved as pleasure began flowing through your body.

“But wasn’t I an uncaring, disrespectful —and what was that—oh, selfish and heartless man?” His hand stopped moving, “well I guess you were right,” his fingers were slowly pulling out your unfulfilled hole.

What was he doing?

“Did you really think you could do whatever you wanted? Having meetings without me, eating locked in your room, ignoring me for days— I have the control here.” Coriolanus looked down at you with a satisfied expression, believing that he finally asserted his dominance over you.

Your mind raced for a response, but before you could gather yourself, his words hung heavy in the air.

That was his revenge.

You thought you could teach him a lesson but he was a step ahead of you. Coriolanus humiliated you, exactly as he planned. His intent was to make you feel ashamed of your past but you gave him a better opportunity: he made you feel needy for him.

Self sabotaging.

“They are here,” he said in a calm tone, as if you were not almost buckling in that very moment.

Five seconds ago you were close to your orgasm and now you were feeling the emptiness growing inside you. You looked around confused, adjusting your body so now you were standing up, your weak knees begging for rest.

Who?

“They?” You stuttered as you watched him stepping back.

“Yes, I called them before,” he smirked, ”put your best smile for the cameras.”

Coriolanus acted like he did not just had his fingers inside you, but his body was telling another story, his bulge was visible from his pants and you noticed that as he swiftly covered his erection with his hand.

He walked towards the elevator where two peacekeepers were waiting for him. You fixed your skirt, probably too ruined and sticky to ever wear it again.

Fuck him.

You followed him, making sure to walk properly or he would’ve noticed how flustered you were. The thick doors closed, it was you, two peacekeepers and the blonde. You were sure he could smell your arousal, you still had traces of his saliva on your neck and a little bruise on your skin. A new one.

Coriolanus took a handkerchief from his pocket and he carefully cleaned his hand from your wetness, like he was cleaning his hands after a crime. Yours. The cloth wrapped around his fingers, as your walls clenched around him moments ago.

Then he caught you staring at his hand, “are you okay? You look flushed.”

You sick bastard.

Your cheeks were painted in a crimson color, of course he could see that, he was the cause of that. The same cause that made you cream your panties and shake your legs. If it wasn’t for the peacekeepers, you would have probably strangled him. But that was his lucky day.

He won.

After an infinite amount of time where your mind couldn’t stop picturing the sloppy sound from before, the elevator’s door parted. Coriolanus grabbed your shoulder as he was directed toward the exit. The silence in that room was now replaced by loud voices coming from the outside.

“Who did you call?” You tried pulling away from his grip but he kept you close.

“I told you, they haven’t seen us in a while.”

He opened the entrance and you heard someone shouting, “they are here!” A group of unknown faces were pointing microphones towards you, asking questions you didn’t bother to listen to.

You walked through the crowd side by side to him, his arm around your waist as you covered your face from the blinding flashes. The car was waiting for you in the exact spot it left you, Coriolanus let you enter in the car first as he followed by closing the door, blocking the loudness outside.

You sat on the back seat, heart racing outside your chest, forcing yourself to completely ignore his presence.

Coriolanus was again back in your thoughts as your wetness slid down your legs.

He is the forbidden fruit.

I am tempted by thee.

A/N: finally it’s out!! It has been so hard writing this chapter, I had so many ideas that I couldn’t mold them together into a coherent text lol. Anyway, as always tell me if there are grammatical mistakes because another difficulty was my limited vocabulary (a special thanks to wordreference.com or I wouldn’t be here today.) Every day I’m trying my best to improve my English so have mercy on me! Let me know if you want to be tagged next time!! 💌

Thank you so much for all the love and support!! Your comments mean a lot to me ❤️❤️ I love you all

ask me questions here 💌

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[sadistic-kiss]

Nanami Knows Best

What's Best

Nanami is tired of your poor choice of men so he takes matters into his own hands. 

TAGS: Dubious Consent, Knife Play, Degrading, Dacryphilia, Bondage, Praise

Genre: Some Angst, Dark Romance, Possessive, Obssessive 

Yandere/Slasher Nanami x Reader

****************************************************

Your giggles tickle Nanami’s ears like little bell chimes. He always enjoyed it when you laughed or smiled. It made him feel warm. However, he wasn't feeling that sweet delight that squeezed his heart… not right now. Right now he was feeling irritated. Pissed. All because he wasn't the cause of such a beautiful laugh, no it was the mouth breather who had his arm slung around your shoulder. 

“Guys this is Mahito.” You introduced the bluette to the group with an excited chirp.

"Sup!"

Jerk number five. 

“Nice to meet you Mahito~.” Gojo shook the man’s hand as he greeted each person.

“So you're the guy I've been hearing so much about?” Shoko winked.

“I hope all good things.” Mahito looked toward you with a smirk. 

“Of course!” You shimmy into him playfully. “You're my perfect man~.”

Your newest boyfriend. 

After rounding the table the man reached his weird stitched hand toward him. Where did you find this one out of the mental hospital? He disregarded his hand giving him a nod instead. “Nanami.” 

“Oo~ Nanami is a bit weird with germs.” you whispered quickly trying to ease the tension between them. He wasn't weird with germs but he allowed you to think that so he didn't have to physically interact with waste. 

“No worries! Germaphobe Kento huh?” 

“Nanami.”he corrected.

“I heard so much about you!” the drunk disrespectful bastard continued, “Heard you were real smart and all, a true brainy guy. Like the big-headed kid from the cartoons uuuuh...” he began to snap his fingers, “John- Josh-”

”Jimmy Neutron!” you laughed as the two of you busted up in a cackle. 

“Yeaaah! Jimmy Neutron!”

Nanami let out a short snort as he sipped his drink. The table giggled in drunken fun. After that little joke, he allowed everyone else to talk. Mahito would pick on him but he never bit back. Never took the obvious bait. Nanami was quiet, always had been. You learn more about someone by watching them closely. People were like open books, you just needed to know how to read them. 

Nanami likes to observe, and as he scrutinized your new boy toy he wanted to roll his eyes. He truly wasn't impressed with this one. The rest of the table seemed fine with him but that's because they were too oblivious to see how textbook this whole thing was. It always started like… this. The cute little honeymoon phase where you introduce the new guy to your friends and they gush and get excited for you. Where you ignore all the obvious red flags and let them slap you in the face. 

It was pitiful honestly. 

The guy could say anything and you'd give him whatever. Money, time, ass, your damn dignity. Just like the rest of them. You let these deadbeats in and they take and take from you until you have nothing more to give and when they leave you broken and crying you run to Shoko. Last time, Shoko was away so you had called him. 

You cried and cried and vowed to never do this to yourself again- he truly believed you yet look at you now. You silly... silly girl. You always do this don't you? It's like you can't help it. You were a smart woman. No debt, great credit score, graduated college early, paid for all your things, and shine in your career. You worked really hard to get to where you were. Summer classes, extra credit, internships, volunteering, you name it. You built yourself up and now you were letting homeless idiots break you down. You were booksmart but you were not street smart. 

Unfortunately, you followed the very trope of- good girl dates bad guy. You think you can change them huh? Give them a place to crash when the go on a drug binge and as they steal your money and lie to you you just nod and smile thinking you see the good in them. When were you going to grow out of it? Aren't you too old for this? Whatever happened to 'fool me once shame on you fool me twice shame on me? What the hell is fool me five times? 

Clearly, you were sick in the head to be going down this same path again for the fifth time. 

More sick than he was, and that was really saying something. He wiped the earth with scum bags like your shitty boyfriends. He even enjoyed doing it. However, he was an honest man to himself and his disturbing hobbies.

He enjoyed killing but it was best when done to someone that he felt was a waste of oxygen. 

He wasn't a sociopath- he was a psychopath. There was a difference. He had his little morals. He didn't like killing those who didn't deserve it. Only people who thought they could shit on the world with no consequences. Cocky bastards… much like all the men you seem to be a magnet for.

So, as he watches you with yet another dirtbag, he begins to wonder how delightful it would be to cut this one's life short. Just like he did with all your other poor choices. You just didn't get it. Couldn't see what they truly were. You always joked about your third eye but you were blind to these things that were lesser than men. They didn't deserve you, but you keep picking them up.

Was it your daddy issues? Mommy issues? Both?

Nanami truly thought the time he spent with you crying after your last breakup would have sparked something within you. He was a model man. Everything opposite of the strays you take in off the street. If anything you should have seen how perfect he was for you. How much better he could treat you. Jealous? He wouldn't quite say that. He was more...how should he say...disappointed. He would have felt much better if you came into this bar with a man who was more his status or at least someone who had a higher IQ than a fifth grader.

"ALRIGHT! LET'S GET THIS TRIVIA GAME STARTED!" 

Speaking of iQ, he can't wait to see how many questions this one gets wrong. The last one was 8/10 for questions wrong- not right. He got only two answers. Will this one be a knockout? 

The announcer yelled into the mic making the crowd cheer and holler as they raised their glass into the air excited to start the game. 

Mahito elbowed him in the side, "Win this one for us aye Jimmy Neutron."

Nanami's lip twitched as he gave him a half smile. At that moment your boyfriend sealed his fate. Hammering the last nail into his coffin. Who was he kidding, he nailed it in when he decided to date you.

~

You swayed and giggled as Mahito helped you into your house. 

"Careful babe." He caught you before you could slip and eat your stone steps.

"Sorry sorry~ I had one too many margaritas!" You hold on to him as you kick your stilettos off your feet. You were already home so you didn't mind going barefoot the rest of the way. 

Climbing up your stairs you dug into your purse to grab your keys with jingly accessories upon them. You open the door and lean against it letting your guest in. You smiled at him while he turned the lamp on. You had such a fun night and you felt something was so different about this one. Your friends even liked him. Though they were pissed he got some questions wrong- easy ones-matter of fact you don't think he answered anything correctly- despite that! You still felt it was a good night. Closing the door behind you, you stalk over to him and throw your arms around his neck.

"Ooo~I know that look, did I do good tonight?"

You smiled with a flirtatious flutter of your lashes, "Yes~ Yes you did." You reach on your tiptoes as you kiss him, nearly making him tip over the couch.

Mahito hummed wrapping his arms around your hips, about to take this to the next level but his phone began to ring. He pulled back from you with a peck, "Ah~" He hissed looking at his phone, "Give me a minute work is calling." 

You pout giving him puppy eyes, "This late at night? Can't you let it ring?" You reach for him again but he untangles your arms from around him with a light chuckle. 

"I'm always on call, you know how business is. Go wait for me." He smacked your ass while walking toward the door.

"Don't take long!" You giggle running to your room to put something sexy on.

Mahito stepped out onto your porch, answering the phone. "Hey baby?"

"When are you coming over~"

"I can't tonight, I gotta..." He looked around while licking his lip, "Do a late-night delivery."

Nanami was listening as he hid in the dark, your new boyfriend spoke to what he had deduced was another girl... or boy. Whatever the case it was clear he was cheating on you and then lying to both of you. Well, the guy just made this a whole lot easier. Guess that was the one perk of you dating trash, it was easy to get rid of.

Once the call came to an end Nanami made his move. Mahito opened the door when he caught the man around his neck with his knife and then dragged him in with a hand clasped over his lips. Nanami shut the door with his back, leaning against it while he held the dying gurgling man. His eyes were wide as they looked upon him in shock. 

"She deserves better than you." Nanami made sure to send the man to the afterlife with his stone-cold eyes as the last thing he saw. He watched an arrangement of emotions flicker across before Mahito went still. He wished he could have basked in his taunting screams like the others but this was new. He has never done… this. In your house. About to confront you. He thought it was about time you truly opened your third eye and saw reality. 

Nanami dragged the man with him as he walked toward your room, pausing in the hallway mirror. He adjusted his bloody jacket and combed his blonde hair back with his fingers, flashing his teeth to make sure nothing was in them. When he was satisfied he knocked on your door with two sharp taps.

"Come in~" You called from inside.

He twisted the knob and pushed it, allowing the door to swing open the rest of the way.

You had a smile on your face, sitting in bed wearing a see-through baby doll gown. When you realized it was him and not the garbage man, your expression morphed into horror.

"N-Nanami!" You scurried up on your knees with your mouth wide open. Eyes darting to the body that he was pulling into your room. He plopped down on your bed with a tired sigh, flicking out his handkerchief as if he had just gotten off of work. 

You open your lips wide about to scream but he grabs your calf while holding the knife to his lips, "Don't. I've already had a long night with your one-brain cell boyfriend." He let go of you before he snorted to himself, "Sorry, your ex." Using his white handkerchief he began to wipe his bloody knife with smooth delicacy.

"Why-why Nanami?!"

"He was trash sweetheart. All of them were."

"A-all? Wh-what are you talking about?"

"Every single one you pick." He looked at you like a disappointed father. "I'm about sick of it. It’s obvious you're too stupid to realize it. Letting these leeches into your life. At some point, you'd think you were enjoying it! How about that? Do you enjoy being treated like crap? Enjoy letting pigs treat your home like a sty they can smoke their crack pipe at?"

Your lip trembled as you watched him clean his knife, "A-are you going to k-kill me?"

Nanami shook his head in disbelief as he scratched some blood off the steel, did you not listen to a word he just said? Honestly, sometimes you can be so dense. You’re lucky you’re cute. "No, I'm not going to kill you sweetheart." He looked up at you just in time to see your eyes land on your phone that was plugged into the charger. He saw the way you nervously gulped before looking at him. 

He raised a blonde brow at you. Were you really about to-

You dashed for your phone but he was quicker. He lunged forward and slapped the device across the room but you took that moment to pick up your lamp and toss it at him. He growled, blocking it with his arm, the glass cutting him. You released a scream while running. You barely jumped over the lump of flesh on the ground before he caught you by your hair and yanked you back into the room. 

“Ah! HELP HELP ME!”

"Enough!" He yelled at you as he wrestled you onto your bed.

You kicked and screamed as he quickly got you under control. He shoved his handkerchief into your mouth and grabbed your hands together with one hand. Swiftly he unbuckled his pants with one hand and yanked it out of the loop to tie around your wrist and the bedpost. He yanked on it making sure it was tight, and to be double sure you weren't getting out he jiggled your arm, searching for any open space. He then sat on the side of your bed with a release of air. Glancing at his forearm he picked out pieces of your lamp from his skin and tossed it to the floor. 

“Tch- ". He pulled out the last piece looking at you. 

Your sniffling and choked sobs are what caught his attention. He couldn't help how absolutely beautiful you looked even with precious tears streaming down your cheeks. He cooed as he took out the bloody handkerchief, from your mouth. "What's wrong sweetheart? Why are you crying?"

"Are you..." You gawked at him before giving him an angry stern look. "Y-You killed Mahito!"

Nanami scoffed leaning over the bed so he could pick up Mahito's phone. "Ah, your boyfriend?" He typed in the easy password that he had seen the leech put in. 6969. Fucking childish. He then went to his text message to girlfriend number two and flipped it over to show you. "What do you see?"

You gasped at the text messages, and nude pictures being sent between the two. Mahito said dirty things about the girl as she reciprocated the flirting. You snapped your head away too distraught to see such a thing. 

The blonde grabbed your cheeks, turning your head so you could look at the evidence. "What do you see?" He asked again more sternly. 

You sniffed, "I see I see!"

"What! Do you see?"

"I SEE THE NUDE PICTURES!" You cried with more hot tears bubbling in your orbs.

"What's the date?"

"T-Today! It's- it's today...." You began to cry as Nanami moved the phone from your face. Your boyfriend is dead, the guy you saw as a friend killed him, and now you found out you were being cheated on- was there anything else to bury you in? This was all too much! You were sobbing now, choking on your saliva and trying to sniffle so you could breathe, but it was so hard to breathe. 

Nanami pet your cheek with the back of his knuckles. "There you go... good girl let it all out...it's okay." 

"I-I'm sorry N-Nanami you are r-right- why does this happen to me..." You cried through your words hoping to pull on sympathy strings.

Nanami kissed you on your forehead as he spoke more to himself than anything. "You just can't help yourself sweetheart it's not your fault..." He moved to kiss your wet cheek. "I'll make sure it never happens again."

His words made your eyes widen along with his lips connecting with your own. 

"HM!" You tensed up shutting your eyes tight, your hands jerked to push him away but his belt didn't let up. What the hell does he think he's doing!? His lips slotted into yours as he shifted on top of you. You felt his tongue touch you and, you let it slip in your mouth. He moaned as he licked your tongue but then you clamped your teeth making him rear back in shock.

"Mm..."He touched his bloodied tongue. Surprised to see the red liquid on his fingers. "You bit me." He stated matter of factly. 

"Don't touch me!" You spat his blood at him. "You're a murderer! 

He was calm and then he wasn't. He grabbed your face pressing his fingers into your cheeks as he shook your head back and forth. "I know what I am darling but do you know what you are?"

You did your best to glare at him as you mewled in discomfort, your cheeks being pressed into your eyes. You weren't even able to answer his question, but he did.

"You're a dirty little whore that can't go one single day without being fucked."

You gasp in shock.

"Oh don't do that. You get dumped by one man you're looking for the next to warm your bed. How long did you know this one? Less than a month? How long did it take you before you were throwing on this slutty outfit that you wear for every man?" He flicked the fabric for emphasis.

You felt your chest squeeze in pain as your resolve began to decay, you didn't expect him to be so mean- hell you didn't expect any of this from kind sweet Nanami Kento! It was like a whole new person was above you. Nanami rolled his eyes at you, "Nothing hm...figures." He dragged his other hand over your body until he reached in between your legs. You gasp feeling him slide two digits against your slit. "You only think with this don't you?"

"What-what are you-ah!" You flinch feeling him slip into you. You were so ashamed by how your body fluttered around the intrusion.

"This is all you can think about hm?" Nanami leaned his head so he could watch the pleasure flicker across your confused eyes.

"Y-You're wrong!"

"Give it a break. You don't want them because they treat you like a princess, you certainly don't want them for money." His fingers curled inside you, rubbing on something delightful. "You just use them for the sex and allow them to do the same to you. Why else do you think all your choices are terrible?"

"S-Stop!" You snatched your face from his fingers, your legs quivering as you let out a tight groan. The way he thrust and curled inside of you was causing your body to betray you. It shouldn't feel this good. "Ah~!" You try to jerk your hands from its binds but you only end up with shaft wrists.

"I can take care of you and more..." He pressed his thumb to your clit, your hips flinched. "Ah~" Nanami grinned, "Did you like that?"

"N-No!" You shout at him but he began to circle your clit expertly. "-Ah~" You bit your lip turning away from him.

He chuckled, "Now now, there's no need to lie...I can feel you clenching around me, go ahead and cum, it's what you want to do."

You squeezed your eyes tight denying this reality, doing your best to escape mentally. You didn't want to feel all this pleasure, but it was too difficult to ignore. From the blonde's taunting words in your ear and the squelch of your wet cunt you knew you were done for. 

You felt something cold touch your neck, it was the knife he used on Mahito, "Look at me. I want to see you when you squirt on me like the slut you are."

You kept your face away but you opened your eyes to glare at him from the side. The knife bites into your flesh like a mere paper cut.

He gave you a sort of soft smile, "You can enjoy it as much as you like, don't be ashamed sweetheart." 

It pissed you off how sweet he sounded. How those simple words sent shivers and butterflies. This man you thought was a friend was a damn killer! Yet you could feel the growing build-up of your orgasm. You began to shake your head trying to pull yourself away from those dangerous hands. 

"N-no no! Stop!"

"Stop? Why would I stop when you are so close my dear? Don't tell me you don't want to cum?"

"Ah-N-no no! I don't want to-mm-" You grit your teeth trying to hold yourself back.

Nanami chuckled low at you, "Sweetheart don't be so stubborn. Come on and be a good girl. Cum for me." His movements didn't let up and even though you did your best to fight, it was inevitable.

You came with a scream, hips lifting as you squirt upon this killer's hand. You felt good and then immediately regret. How could you cum...so much?

"Good girl..." Nanami used the knife to cut off your thin lingerie. "We are going to need to throw this one out my dear, I'll get you a new one. Just for me."

What? He was insane- You had no time to stew in that statement because he pulled his pants low enough to release his large leaking cock.

"N-Nanami!" You were shocked to see how blessed he was. "W-Wait! I-I can't!"

"Yes, I'm aware none of your boyfriends were as big as I am." The blonde pushed your legs up and pressed his tip to your cunt. "Gojo said that they oozed little dick energy and I am quite displeased with you darling, you couldn't even be a slut properly."

You let out a cry as he pushed into you, stretching you around his cock. Tears streaming down your cheeks, making the man moan. He loved seeing you cry. You found that out when you cried to him about your last boyfriend. You didn't want to believe he was hard because of your tears but now you could see- it turned him own.

 Nanami moaned deeply as he kissed the corner of both of your eyes, rolling his hips until he was fully inside you. More tears seemed to pour free, like a never-ending stream. You cried out of frustration- you cried for your dead exes and you cried because the bloody monster above you was making you feel unbelievably good. You hated how he slid in and out of you with no pain- you wish it hurt- you wished you weren't enjoying it.

"It's okay darling. "Nanami cooed sweetly. Let it all out. Cry as much as you want," He snapped his hips faster as you bit back your pleasurable moans. Your bed rocked as he fucked you into it. The psycho blonde talking to you. "They didn't deserve you-mm. None of them..." He panted. 

"N-Nanami~" You began to play into the pleasure, letting it take your moans. Maybe you could speed up this process. You circled your legs around him allowing him to get deeper. Soon your moans weren't 'fake' they were quite real. "Oh~ You feel so good! Ah~Please cum in me!" You cried.

Nanami saw right through your charade, if you thought he was cumming alone you were wrong. He pulled out of you so he could flip you onto your stomach, your arms awkwardly crossed in their binds.

He reentered you making your back arach, "AH!"

"Mm~ I know how much you love being treated like a slut. Beg for it." He slapped your ass as he fucked you from behind.

 Holy shit- 

Your eyes rolled while you moaned deeply. "Oh~P-Please Nanam!"

"Who do you belong to?"

"AH~" 

He slapped your ass again getting much more aggressive as he pulled on your hips and bounced you on his cock. 

"YOUR'S I'M YOUR SLUT PLEASE!" You'd like to say you were still playing along but as he grabbed your breast and smacked your ass like an alleyway whore you may have had a very real very intense orgasm. "Oh fuck-!" You hiss as you came, throwing your hips back so you could feel every part of him. He was long and thick and hit all the right places. Places you never even knew needed to be touched. 

Nanami quickly slipped out of you before you could milk him for all he's worth but once you settled he thrust right back inside, making you scream again. 

"I know my little whore needs more orgasms than two...don't worry... I'll make sure you are more than satisfied."

Trued to his damn word he made sure you were a panting mess by the end of the night. You could barely open your eyes as he finished, shooting his cum all over your face. Marking you with his seed. Despite the messy goop on you he grabbed your chin and kissed you deeply, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. Demanding you to submit to him. You didn't bite him this time, much too physically and mentally exhausted to do so.

Separating from your lips with a light smack he rubbed your chin sweetly, "Good girl, you took me so well."  

You weakly look at him with a pitiful, "Please release my hands..."

He reached up for his belt and loosened it for your arms to go free. You let out a breath of relief. Before you could rub your wrist Nanami grabbed them and massaged them for you. It was silent in your bedroom...until Mahito's phone dinged. Picking up the device, the blonde snorted and showed you the screen. It was yet another girl your dead ex was fooling around with. Girlfriend number three. You rolled your eyes looking away making Nanami laugh.

"It's not funny..." You muttered.

He pinched your cheek playfully, "Don't pout so much my sweet girl, I'll take care of you. I promise I won't let anyone else hurt you ever again. You are mine and I am yours."

"What if it's you... hurting me..." You blinked looking at his deep brown eyes.

He gave you a charming smile, "I said...anyone else...I do what's best for you." He cupped your cheek, "Because you don't know any better. I do. I know what's best."

You swallowed a harsh lump as reality became all too real. He was a lunatic and wasn't going to let you go. You didn't realize you were crying until he had moved for you.

"Shh...I'm here..." He scooped you up so he could hold you. Just over the mattress, you could see Mahito, lifeless and on the floor, but the whispering from the man behind you was both eerie and soothing at the same time. "I'm here now my sweet girl, let me worry about everything."

~Commission from anonymous ~

https://ko-fi.com/c/a12d45af4a

[starsfic]

Xiaotian points out one day that Zhu Bajie, Ao Lie, and Sha Wujing had to have had partners if his family and friends are their descendants. Sun Wukong is eager to spill the tea.

Anon: Monkie kid prompt: Wukong learns about Zhu Baije’s punishment (the love tragedy one) from Pigsy. And makes sure that it doesn’t happen or it ends with Pigsy’s and Tang’s relationship The Zhu Bajie and Ao Lie stories inspired by @twinklecupcake's wives.

A huge chest slammed onto the table, the dust on it thick enough that Xiaotian was sent into a coughing fit. "That's huge," he wheezed. "What's all in it?"

"Oh, a lot," Sun Wukong said, throwing open the chest. He pulled out a bunch of scrolls and loose pictures, what looked to be at least two fancy hanfus, and other stuff. Tang reached for one of the scrolls only for Wukong to slap his hand. The last thing he pulled out looked to be a photo album.

"Now," Wukong said, reaching for the scroll Tang attempted to grab. "I have no idea where Sha Wujing got his kid," He unfolded the scroll to reveal an ink picture. The giant river demon beamed next to a nervous-looking Tripitaka, the taller holding a small demon child. The child beamed with sharp shark teeth. "He just popped up one day and asked if I would basically be the kid's godfather and never asked any questions."

Sandy made a grabbing motion and Wukong let him take the scroll, ignoring Tang's pout. "So, he adopted?" the demon asked.

"Either that or he kidnapped the kid from a bad situation."

Wukong grabbed another scroll and unrolled it, presenting to Long Xiaojiao first. She cooed at the image of her white-haired ancestor in wedding robes, holding hands with a pretty dark-haired girl. "Oh, she's so pretty!" she said, pulling out her phone and snapping a picture. "Who is she?"

"She was a farmgirl, living on a farm near the ocean. Ao Lie apparently worked as a farmhand for her dad for several months because he got bored and ending up doing the whole Princess Bride schtick," Wukong said, unfolding one of the robes to reveal the red fabric was stitched with green dragons. "We didn't even get told about the wedding until she was expecting their second kid, although Master insisted on them having a second wedding so we could be there." His smile grew bigger. "They had a big stuffy court wedding where she was apparently so upset the entire morning because she had no idea Ao Lie was a prince and thought she was marrying some random stranger, so they didn't need much convincing."

Xiaojiao's eyes got bigger. "Can I-?" She made grabby hands. Wukong handed over the wedding robe with no protest. She zoomed out of the room and soon returned, striking a pose. Whatever preservation spell was on the fabric was strong, since it looked perfect despite its age. Xiaojiao was a tad shorter than Ao Lie, so some of it dragged on the floor, but it looked amazing.

"What about..." Pigsy sighed, as if the name was bitter on his tongue. "Zhu Bajie?"

Wukong's smile froze on his face. "He...uh...he returned to Blue Orchid, and I helped them find a new place in the countryside since her dad put up a stink," He reached for another scroll, handing it over. "They were besotted with each other. When she got pregnant, they were so happy...But he had a curse to be never happy in love."

Connections did not need further help.

The scroll depicted a scene of wedded bliss, the tiny woman dwarfed by the giant boar, a hand pressed protectively to her round stomach. The artist had caught them smiling at each other, eyes full of love and hope for the future.

Wukong, lost in memories, didn't notice Xiaojiao grabbing the scrapbook. "Is that why you were stalking Pigsy?" she called.

The monkey went stiff. "What?" Tang said.

"There's no need to see that-" Wukong made a grab but Xiaojiao danced back, her grin getting wider.

"Is this their first date-?!"

"WHAT?!"

"I wanna see!"

"I just wanted to help-"

Sandy, watching as his friends, his family, broke into struggle over the scrapbook that memorialized his oldest friends' happiness, smiled. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.

This could join the rest of the memories of the pilgrims.

[redstarwriting]

partners

hobie brown x reader

request?: yes

request: “Hello! Sorry if this request is really long ;-; okay so hobie and the reader are new recruits to the spider society and are partnered together at first was difficult to get along but as time goes on and they get the whole partner thing down an obvious attraction between the two, but no action was made until one difficult fight against an anomaly. While fighting pieces of a broken building had fallen on the reader, leaving them stuck while hobie went over to try and get them free but was struck by anomaly and the reader hated seeing hobie get hurt used all their strength got out from under the rubble and took care of the anomaly and realized that they could no longer stand idly by without telling hobie the truth. I'm sorry about the length and thank you if you chose to write it 🫡🙏 love your work !!”

requested by: anon​

word count: 2.7k

genre: angst(ish), fluff

Warnings: language, stab wound, broken ribs, panicked Hobie, mentions of blood, mentions of severe injuries, stitches, mentions of needles

A/N: ok so i got a little carried away with this one LMAO and NEVER apologize for a request being long! I appreciate all the requests i get no matter how short or long they are 🖤 please enjoy!

───────────────────────────────────

Hobie Brown was the bane of your existence. The most attractive bane of existence that there could possibly be.

And unfortunately for you, Miguel insisted on the two of you being partners.

The reasoning was because he didn’t trust Hobie to do any of his Spider Society duties — at least not in a smart way — and you were very… meticulous. You had a way you did things and didn’t like when your way was compromised. It helped that the two of you were the same age, so Miguel’s dad side popped out and figured the two of you could influence each other.

The first time the two of you went on a mission together, that was far from the truth.

Walking back into Spider Society, you would have thought the two of you didn’t complete the mission. You did, obviously, but the two of you literally looked like your asses got beat. Because you did. “What… happened?” Miguel asks, honestly a little concerned and shocked at the state of you two. “What ‘appened is ‘at I work alone, but you insisted I work with this bloody fuckwit.”

“I TOLD YOU A PLAN AND YOU SAID ‘Yeah, sure, mate, but I’m doin’ what I want’ AND THEN ALMOST DIED YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING DUMBASS!” you yell and he rolls his eyes. “Well, ‘ave you ever considered your plan was shit, mate?”

“No! Because it wasn’t!”

“Yes! It was!”

“It was better than your fucking plan of jumping in and just winging it!”

“That’s rubbish! I—”

“Would the both of you stop?!” Miguel yells, and the two of you glare at each other before looking at him. “Hobie, listen to them next time. (Y/n), don’t be afraid to let some things be improvised.”

“Next time?” Hobie nearly screams, and Miguel nods. “The two of you are partners. You’re a team. It’s time to act like it,” Miguel says, and the two of you groan. “I don’t ‘ave to do anythin’ you say, asshole,” Hobie says to Miguel, and he frowns. “You both need to learn how to work with others.” “But we’re Spider-People! We’re supposed to work alone,” you say, and he shakes his head. “No. The two of you are partners. Learn to work together.”

From that point on, the two of you exclusively went on missions together. And you slowly started to learn how to work together. To the point where the two of you were nearly unstoppable. Miguel’s plan worked, Hobie learned some structure, and you learned to be a little more flippant in your decisions. To say he was a proud spiderdad was an understatement. He bragged about it to Peter and Jessica any chance he could get. Something he didn’t expect was the unwillingness from the two of you to then stop being partners. “You’re mental if you think ‘m not gonna keep workin’ with ‘em. Dumbass’ll die,” Hobie crosses his arms. “How to you expect him to survive if I’m not there to tell him what to do?” you roll your eyes.

Miguel was confused, but he didn’t hate the pair-up. So, he said fine and continued treating you two as a partner unit.

It was only later on that he realized why the two of you refused to stop working together. And it was thanks to Pavitr that he found out. “Miguel!” Pavitr yells, running over to him. “Yes, Pavitr?”

“How did you know?”

“How did I know what?” Miguel asks, already exasperated with the conversation. “About (Y/n) and Hobie!” Pav says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow at him. “What about them?”

“That they’re so obviously head over heels for each other! That’s why you paired them up, right?” he says excitedly, and Miguel just stares at him. “No.”

“Oh… well, forget I said anything, then. You had me worried there for a second, bro. I thought you could read people better than I could, and I couldn’t have that,” he trails off as he starts webbing away. Now that Miguel thinks about it, you and Hobie did have some sort of gravitational pull toward each other. He noticed that even when the two of you weren’t working together on a mission, you were constantly near each other. Even when the rest of the problem children weren’t around. And he never did quite see Hobie smile at anyone else the way he smiles around you. And you did tend to stare at Hobie for seemingly no reason. Damn. Guess pairing you two up was a good idea for multiple different reasons. Now he wasn’t just a proud spiderdad of the two of you, but of himself as well. “Good job, Miguel,” he nods, talking to himself.

However, while it was obvious for everyone, including the two of you, there was never anything pursued. No one could really understand why the two of you haven’t just been honest with each other, honestly. It was obvious to everyone the two of you cared more about each other than anyone else in the multiverse, but the two of you just continued saying you were merely friends and that there was no special relationship between the two of you. Which was a blatant lie, even to the two of you, but it continued to be the story told.

Until this latest mission.

The two of you were tasked with capturing an anomaly in your world. Of course, you were the only one told about it, but Hobie showed up anyways. It ended up being a Doc Ock variant, easy enough, but this specific one was tough. His arms were stronger and more technologically developed than others. Not to mention his annoying willpower to not give up. “Right, what’s the plan, then, love?” Hobie asks, and you frown. “We need to find a weak spot in his arms,” you say, and Hobie tuts. “And ‘ow are we gonna do ‘at?”

“Guess we’ll have to improvise,” you shrug, and he smiles at you. “‘ave I ever told ya I love it when it’s clear I’ve rubbed off on ya?”

“All the time, Hobie. Now, let’s go catch ourselves an octopus,” you say, and the both of you start fighting. And he was indeed harder to beat than the both of you expected. And it quickly becomes apparent to this Octavius that the two of you have feelings for each other with how often Hobie is trying to protect you, and how often you’re trying to protect Hobie. So, he figures it would be easier to take one down and distract the other long enough to take the other down. And that’s how you get thrown into the side of a building with so much force that it collapses around you.

Hobie, of course, immediately panics. He rushes over to you, frantically digging through the rubble. He sounds the most panicked you’ve ever heard him “(Y/N)? LOVE CAN YOU ‘EAR ME?!” You cough, yelling out a quick yes before trying to push as much of the rubble as he possibly can off of you. He manages to free enough of the rocks that he can see you, and you can see him. “‘m gonna get you out of there, love,” he mumbles, and you shake your head. “Deal with him first, I’ll be fi—”

“No.” Hobie doesn’t leave any room for arguments, continuing to throw rubble around to try and get you out. Unfortunately, he’s too focused on you and the worry that you might get severely injured to notice the mechanical arm about to smash into him until it’s too late. You scream his name as he gets struck, and flies into another building with a thud. He hears a sickening crack in his head and pain spreads throughout his torso. He groans, realizing his ribs just broke (again) and he can’t move for a moment.

He’s dazed, you can tell, and it just pisses you off. Doc Ock laughs, muttering something about how it was ‘too easy when it came to partners.’ You were enraged. You rarely use your full strength, in fact, nearly all the spiders try not to use their full strength for fear of what they might do to their enemies. But you’re too angry to think straight, and you just want this asshole to shut up so you can go home. You growl, beginning to lift the rubble off of you. The piece you’re lifting is a large part of the building, which is why you were trapped in the first place. Doc Ock glares at you, preparing to continue the fight. He didn’t expect you to fight back like this after the other had been struck down so violently.

You push the rubble above your head, casually holding a large piece of a building and breathing heavily. Not from overexertion, but from anger. Doc Ock extends his arms toward you, one opening to reveal a sharp dagger going directly for your heart. Before it can stab you where you would surely die, you’re able to twist your body to ensure it only goes through your shoulder. The pain is searing, but you’re too distraught to care about it. You rip the dagger out with one arm, somehow holding the building with one hand before you throw the rubble at him. He quickly brings up his arms to soften the blow, and even though they successfully make the rubble crumble around him, the kick you deliver to his face is enough to knock him back. Hard.

He looks up at you, dazed and confused about how you got to him that fast, before you deliver another blow, knocking him out cold. Your chest heaves as you raise your arm to strike him again before it’s held back by someone. Hobie captures him in one of Miguel’s specially designed prisons, and then opens a portal. He just tosses him in. He’ll show up in Spider Society one way or another. “Calm down there, sweetheart,” he says, and you turn, immediately checking over him to see how hurt he is. You can see some gashes throughout his suit, but he seems stable enough. All because he saw you get stabbed, and he’s pretending like his ribs aren’t in half. “I was just caught off guard, love, ‘m fine,” he says softly, slipping his arm behind your shoulders and slowly lowering you to the ground. “Wish I could say the same for you,” he mutters, staring at the stab wound pouring out blood. “Oh, this? This is nothing,” you grunt, the pain coming to the forefront now that the adrenaline is gone. He scoffs. “Yeah, ‘m sure,” he mumbles, unable to take his eyes off of your injuries. “Hobie… hey, my eyes are up here. Mask is on, so they’re so big you can’t miss ‘em,” you tease, and he looks up at you. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For bein’ soft in the ‘ead. Now you’re ‘urt cause a’ me,” he says quietly, and you shake your head. “You’re hurt because of me. I should have been paying closer attention to where I was going,” you mutter, and the blood loss begins to affect your head, “I kinda lost it when I thought about how your pretty face may have gotten fucked up.”

“Pretty, eh?”

“Mhm. So pretty,” you mumble, and he picks you up, carrying you with one arm and applying pressure to the wound with his other hand. You wince, and he frowns. “Sorry, love, can’t ‘ave you bleedin’ out on me after you admitted ‘m pretty,” he says. “Hold onto me best you can, yeah?” You wrap your good arm around his neck and your legs around his waist as he removes his hand from your wound and begins swinging to your place. He has one arm wrapped firmly around you to make sure you don’t fall, especially when he feels your grip loosening. “Stay with me, love,” he mumbles in your ear as he lands on your fire escape, hurrying up to your window and opening it. He steps in, carrying you, and goes straight to your bathroom. He props you up against your wall, sitting in front of you, and getting out the first aid kit all Spider-People are oh so familiar with.

You struggle to stay awake, but the stinging of the alcohol when he started cleaning your wound wakes you up and causes you to wince and whine. “I know, it ‘urts, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, getting the needles ready to stitch you up. The pain of being a Spider-Person never quite lets up. You clench your teeth, and he works as fast and diligently as possible to get you fixed up. The whole time you just stare at his face. He’s so concentrated and worried that you can tell he’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He finishes up, looking up at you. “You’re starin’, love.”

“How can I not?”

“The blood loss must really be gettin’ to ya,” he says, setting your first aid kit to the side, and giving you a small smile. You snort and shake your head. “Thanks,” you say, and he nods. “’Course, (Y/n/n).” Then you frown. “You have a cut on your forehead.”

“I’ll live,” he says, and you motion him to come closer. He gladly scoots closer to you as you apply a butterfly bandage to his forehead. He stares at you the whole time, waiting for you to finish. When you do, the two of you make eye contact. “Ya really think ‘m pretty?” he mumbles, and you nod. “Have for a while.”

“Serious?”

“Mhm,” you process just how close the two of you are in this moment and feel your face heat up. He smiles softly. “Not as pretty as you, though,” he whispers, glancing at your lips before returning his gaze to your eyes. The two of your noses brush, and he gently puts his hand on your cheek. “‘m tired of runnin’ from this,” he whispers. “Me, too,” you say, closing the gap between the two of you. He wraps his free arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him as you place your hands on his shoulders. The two of you stay like that for what feels like way too short. He slowly pulls away, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Reckon we should go back to Spider Society,” he mumbles, and you sigh. “I dunno… I kinda wanna stay here. With you, no one else,” you say, and he chuckles. “Oh, me too. I don’t wanna go, but Miguel will call both of us if we don’t. We go, tell ‘im we didn’t die so ‘e doesn’t bother us, come back, yeah?”

“Deal,” you mumble, and he slowly stands, wincing. You frown. “You broke a rib, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, a few. I’ll be fine, nothin’ new,” he says, holding his hand out to you and helping you up. “Are ya lightheaded?”

“A little, but I’ll survive,” you assure, and he nods, wrapping his arm around your waist anyways to steady you. You wrap yours around his waist as well, offering him some extra support as he opens a portal to Spider Society. The two of you walk (moreso limp) your way there, and Miguel looks at the two of you. “What… happened?”

“Eh. Bloke was an ass,” Hobie says. “I was worried when he came through a portal but the two of you didn’t.”

“We had to stitch ourselves up. We just stopped in to say we didn’t die,” you shrug, and Hobie nods. “Well… alright, then. You can go to the hospital here if you need to,” Miguel says, and Hobie shakes his head. “Nah. We’re just gonna go sleep it off.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re even recovering as partners now?” Miguel asks, and the two of you look at each other. “We do everything as partners now,” you say, and Hobie smiles. “You mean…?” Miguel realizes the two of you have finally come to terms with your feelings. And finally told each other. “Yeah. We’re partners. In every sense of the word,” you grin, and Hobie nods. “Guess I should thank ya, Miguel. Don’t get used to it,” Hobie says as you pull up the portal to your world. Miguel watches the two of you disappear into it.

Hobie Brown was the bane of your existence. The most attractive bane of existence that there could possibly be.

And fortunately for you, Miguel insisted on the two of you being partners.

───────────────────────────────────

[utterlyunawarewriter]

CABIN 6 HEADCANNONS

This is my first post so feedback is appreciated <33

Since athena is also the goddess of weaving, most cabin 6 kids are good at it, plus most arts and crafts

They definitely have two baskets in one corner of their cabin, one filled with various types of yarn and the other with every type of knitting, weaving, crocheting needles known to mankind

They also weave tapestries to decorate their bunks and walls

They also have a tapestry called the Great Tapestry or smt which has like all major Greek mythology moments plus the camps history (like all the places it has visited or smt)

They host a Weave-off every summer and the whole camp can participate

The winner gets a small blessing form Athena

I can imagine the older campers helping the younger campers learn new stitches and techniques

Also...WOVEN BATTLE PLANS FOR CAPTURE THE FLAG

You can see I'm quite passionate about this lol

They definitely have a library that's open for all campers to visit snd study at

It's open for all hours and some campers help people from different cabins study and tutor them

Their cabin also has the most extensive collection of stationary, like from all over the world

If you can name it, they have it

They also are really good at designing new and better weapons so they have a close alliance with the hepheastus cabin

They team up with cabin 9 and spend HOURS creating the perfect bow/crossbow/sword

____________________________________

My masterlist

[t-art-c]

Love that Beat Vanity

Scaramouche/GN! Reader - Forced Established Marriage

TW: Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Verbal Abuse

A/N: HELLO! Thank you for reading my goofy little oneshots once again. I've decided to have every Scaramouche fics I write on this acc to have some kind of continuation. So, if you have read my previous works, the reader's lore will be the same throughout this series. But you don't have to read the previous works to catch up with the story since I wrote it as oneshots, scenarios and whatnot.

If you choose not to read the previous works, Reader was an orphan who survived stealing from people but stole from the wrong person one time and was taken and placed in a human trafficking ring, Scaramouche bought her to work at for the Fatui and the rest is history.

-----

It has been 5 years since Scaramouche has taken you as his spouse. You have still not adapted well into this new "domestic" life that was forced onto you by your husband. The lessons you have to keep taking because you can't make yourself to remember it all, has started to take a toll on your body.

Sleep has been difficult to achieved, it might be near impossible as your husband demands for the two of you to sleep together in the same bed, as husband and spouse. But try as you might to close your eyes, the moment you feel his arms snake around your waist, you freeze up like a statue and not sleep until you pass out from exhaustion. However, when you wake up from fainting, you'll feel the blanket placed properly on top of you, the bed side where your husband would always lay on, cold.

You have no doubt that Scaramouche loves you, too much in fact.

Early in the morning, he would leave you in bed and attend to his harbinger duties. Not a single item of his was ever misplaced whenever he fixes himself up. His sakura blossom perfume would always be placed in it proper spot and his brush to add the rouge over his eyelids were clean from any color, as if it was never even used.

Tidiness can't be said the same to your vanity table. Although you rarely use the furniture as it was intended, you do use it as something to leave the fabrics that you have meticulously stitched from the lessons that Scaramouche forced on you. They were ugly, so you have no idea why your husband lets you leave them in the open.

Your 'lovely' Scaramouche once commented on how your needlework was "god awful that even a child can do better". You might not have expressed it physically, but it hurt to hear him say that. Blood was spilled when you were creating your first fabric But you learned the truth later on that the first finished fabric you have created was hidden in the drawer of his office.

It makes your heart confused on why he has to resort to harsh tactics to get a semblance of your "love". Why can't your husband act like a normal person?

Mornings has been something you have been waiting for every single day for the past 5 years. For the whole morning, you have the manor all to yourself. A place for you to be alone with your thoughts. But when the hour hand reaches 12 PM, your teacher for that day will be coming to teach you another useless skill that you will never remember.

[honey-words]

spider boy’s happy ending— spider-man!midoriya izuku x reader

synopsis: moments in your new routine with izuku. he’s stopped keeping secrets, and everything just feels easier now. [part 5/5 - series masterlist]

wc: 1.8k

author’s note: i can’t believe the series is done!!! tysm to everyone who stuck around, this ones for you <3

It’s hard to remember when Izuku wasn’t part of your life. He fits in so seamlessly in your routines it’s like he’s always been there, snuggled up on your couch after a long day, Moony happily napping on his lap. 

You’re both seniors now, and the past few months have been filled with new memories of the two of you becoming even closer. 

Izuku has started to share more about what he gets up to at night, and he’s also started to come back with fewer injuries. 

You asked him about it one night, a month into the new semester. You’re both still neighbors and ignoring graduation as it looms over you and threatens the little world you both live in now. 

“I think I’ve gotten better at this whole Spider-Man thing,” was his answer. He yawned, idly snacking on the bag of chips you’d offered him. You didn’t even like that particular flavor, but you kept them around your kitchen because you knew they were his favorite. 

“Plus, I don’t want you scolding me for dripping blood on your floor.” You snatch the chip bag away from him and he laughs. You can smile about it now, but it was one of the worst nights you both endured together. 

It was the first week of classes, and he had come back dripping blood through his suit. You had panicked, naturally. He had kept reassuring you it was fine and refusing to go to an actual hospital. 

“We got this,” he had breathed, head resting on your shoulder as you both sat down on your bathroom floor and you did your best to gently wipe away dried blood to see exactly where his injuries were. It would have been reassuring if he wasn’t literally bleeding all over your floor. 

You did your best to help him, and he insisted on doing his own stitches. You followed his instructions, blinking away tears at the thought of him learning to patch himself up like this all by himself. Carefully, and as gently and quietly as possible, you helped him over to his apartment. Helped him change out of his bloodied suit and into loose clothing and settle onto his bed. 

You woke up the next morning curled up on the floor next to his bed, holding his hand. 

It hadn’t gotten that bad since, and you hoped it never did. The next day you had enrolled in a first aid course offered through your university and had started reading as many first aid books as you could, but you haven’t needed to use any of the now extensive knowledge you have. 

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him now. “You better not be keeping your injuries from me just because I freaked out,” you tell him. “Which I think was perfectly normal given the situation.”

“I’m not! Promise,” he holds out his pinkie and you smile as you take it in your own. It’s easier to believe him now, and it doesn’t leave you with that heavy feeling in your chest anymore. He holds onto your pinkie longer than he needs to and pulls your hand closer, dropping a quick kiss on your knuckles. “Sorry for teasing.”

“S’okay,” you manage to choke out. Izuku smiles down at his phone, humming quietly in response. You turn away and face the television again, barely processing anything the reporter is saying. The audacity of him to do things like that and be able to function normally infuriates you. You still blush when he pulls you into a hug or smiles at you too brightly. 

You’d never complain, of course. It’s just another thing you’ve gotten used to, an endearingly affectionate habit of his you would never ask him to change. 

Like what he’s doing now, curled in on himself on the couch next to you, wearing his giant oversized hoodie even if it isn’t exactly the weather for it yet, scrolling on his phone while the news is on as background noise. It’s become a Friday night routine for the two of you—when you get tired, you move to your room and fall asleep after whispering to each other about your weekend plans, which more often than not involve each other. 

“Whatcha scrolling through?” you asked him, turning to sit and face him properly. He turns his phone briefly to show you, smiling at you when you laugh. 

“Your Spidey-News column,” he said, going back to his scrolling. “I like to read comments on them sometimes.”

You had become more involved in the newspaper that semester and started a new column on Spider-Man. You published weekly updates on his activities of the week or interviews of people he’d helped.

Izuku had started at the paper as well, as a cartoonist. Momo had taken one look at a doodle he did on one of your notebooks and had recruited him that same day. He was also training under Jiro as a photographer and submitted the odd photo or two of Spider-Man. You’d laughed hysterically the first time you saw it up on the site.

“Are you still freaking out about grad school?” you asked him. He set his phone down with a groan, running his hands through his curls and nodding. 

“I just think it’d be weird if Spider-Man had to move cities, you know?”

You both laugh. It’s something he’s been repeating a lot over the last few weeks. You know that’s not his only reasoning for it, but it definitely is part of it, which is a bit funny to you. 

“I think it would just confirm he’s a student,” you said nonchalantly, moving to surf channels on the TV. 

“Wait, people think that?” 

“Time for bed!” is your quick reply, struggling to hide your teasing smile. He scrambles to his feet, recognizing your movements for what they are. 

“I’ll shower first!” he yelled, already running down the hall to your room, where he stashes his spare clothes for when he sleeps over. You collapse back onto the couch with a laugh. 

A while later, after you’ve gone through your nightly routine, you find him already snuggled in under your covers, scrolling through his phone. You snuggle in right beside him, smiling when you realize he used your shampoo again. 

You run your hand along his hairline to his neck and he sighs, setting his phone down on your bedside table and moving closer to you until your foreheads are almost touching. His eyes flutter clothes as you run your fingers along his hairline again. 

“G’night,” he mumbled, a sleepy smile on his face. You fall asleep soon after him, his smile the last thing you see before sleep finds you. 

And it’s the first thing you see when you wake up again, waking up to the feeling of him gently poking your cheek. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face and you both laugh. 

Wordlessly, you go through your Saturday morning routine, which you’ve repeatedly done for the past few months. 

Izuku always rolls out of bed before you and starts his routine early, a habit you know is ingrained because of his patrols and one he’ll never quite be able to break. 

You start brushing your teeth just as he’s finishing, and he presses a kiss to your cheek as he moves past you to head into the kitchen. You freeze, turning to watch him walk out. 

No, not your cheek, you process. The corner of your mouth. 

Thankfully you hadn’t started brushing your teeth yet, because you’re pretty sure you would’ve choked on your toothpaste and Izuku would’ve had to rush back in here and save you from yourself. 

You begin to brush your teeth as fast as possible before going back and making sure your morning breath is gone, determination and adrenaline coursing through your veins. You’ve let him get away with the other sickeningly cute affectionate displays, but this one? This one feels distinctly different. 

For one, you had literally just woken up after sleeping in the same bed. He had clothes in a drawer in your room. You both had a morning routine every Saturday. He was constantly latching onto you and you onto him, and you were the only one who knew about his spidey secret. 

Fear and doubt about his feelings has been holding you back, but now you feel more confident than ever. You feel ready to talk about it. 

You sidle up to him at the kitchen counter, knocking hips with him like you always do to make him laugh. He’s decided on pancakes this morning, and you start buttering a pan without him having to ask. 

“So, you kissed me just now,” you said, working hard to keep your tone as nonchalant as possible. You move the melting butter around the pan to avoid looking at him, a bit of doubt entering you again despite your previous wave of confidence. You quickly dump some of the mixed batter onto the pan with a spoon to give your hands something to do, too. 

“Oh,” he replied, as though just realizing it. You can see him blushing out of the corner of your eye. “Oops?”

“No oops!” you exclaimed, turning toward him. Belatedly you realize you’re still holding the spoon of pancake batter, and it splatters over Izuku and the countertop with your movements. 

He blinks in surprise and you laugh, stepping closer to cup his face in your hands. There’s batter along his cheeks and you wipe it off carefully with a napkin. 

“No oops?” he repeated. You realize how close to his face you are and you freeze once more. But there’s a little batter at the corner of his mouth that you missed, and without breaking eye contact and before you can lose your nerve again, you wipe it away slowly with your thumb, barely grazing his lips as you do. 

“Can I do it again?” he asked, breathlessly. “Properly this time?”

You nod and close your eyes as he leans closer until his lips graze yours, a feather-light touch before you feel his warmth start to pull away. 

You tug him closer, still holding his face in your hands and tilt your head to deepen the kiss. He makes a small noise of surprise but is quick to adapt, hands sliding around your wais to pull you impossibly closer, mouth moving against yours in a way that makes you feel dizzy. His tongue swipes at your bottom lip and then you pull away, panting slightly.

Forehead resting on yours, his eyes flutter open. He looks so pretty like this, cheeks dusted pink and lips red from kissing you. You can’t help but lean in and peck him again, and he smiles, eyes crinkling in the same adorable way they did when he first met you. 

“Again?” he asked, and you laugh before leaning in once more, sure there will be many more instances of him asking and of you giving in.

taglist: taglist: @yoonights @justxiao @nonhon @koreluvsspring @orangetappe @shokomilks @froggybich @dekuloveshotcheetos @luvrluvrr

masterlist

[andromeda-nova-writing]

Made with Love

Fem!ReaderWords:2200

Summary: The Sweater Curse. A superstition in knitting about a relationship ending due to reevaluating a relationship due to the hard work in making a sweater. It was something Thoma didn't put too much thought into. At least he didn't before.

AN: This is actually really fluffy fic. Don't let the summary make you think it's angst. I learned knitting for this. It's hard. Also happy early birthday @milkstore! All my Thoma fics are basically for you but this one is even more so. 🩵🩵🩵

It was two months until Thoma’s first anniversary with Y/N. There were so many times that she had been cold around him to the point of borrowing his jacket or sweater. Y/N borrowing a sweater he had made for himself was the catalyst for the two of them getting together. Which means he knew exactly what would make a perfect gift.

He had spent the last month keeping track of what colors Y/N wore the most and the style of her clothing. Using what he had gained he had gone to pick up all the yarn he needed and he couldn’t be more excited to begin the project.

He sat outside in the garden of the Kamisato Estate, his project bag filled with yarn at his side, knitting needles in hand. The cast-on felt easy to him, as he had done it countless times. With a needle in his right hand, he wrapped the yarn around his thumb before sending the needle underneath the yarn creating a loop. 

He had taken measurements off of a sweater that Y/N would wear regularly. He had to be a bit sneaky to get it and he also got caught but it was worth it. He had already done a gauge swatch of the yarn earlier to figure out how many stitches he needed in order to make the body of the sweater. Thoma was so determined to get this right that he remembered to do the gauge swatch!

The last of summer’s warmth wrapped around him as he worked into the stitches letting himself get lost in the project. He had noticed the one sweater of his that Y/N stole the most was built with only knit stitches which made his work easier. No pattern to work about and every row would be the same. It would be easy to build it up fast and he could let himself get lost in the project.

But not too lost. He still had a date to go on later.

-

“Why don’t we just go to the fabric store and find a new button to fix up your bag?” Thoma offered getting up off the floor after looking for the lost button from Y/N’s bag.

“We don’t have to do that. I’ll just switch bags at home. I think I have a spare there anyway.” She spoke as she leaned against the wall of the estate. “Let’s just go already. I think we should still go to Ritou instead of Inazuma City anyway. It's been a while since we've gone there.”

“We were there last week together.”

“I know. I just found myself enjoying Ritou more recently.”

It wasn’t something to overthink. Just a change in date location. It was good nothing was set in stone.

“We could go for a walk on the beach there. Could be fun to collect seashells.”

“Okay. Then that's what we will do.” it was a bit different than what Y/N would normally suggest but it's not like what she suggested was a bad idea. Plus they could still go out to eat after. All he really wanted was to spend time together anyway.

-

Thoma had been working on the sweater for at least two weeks now. Progress was going well. He was working on it faster than he thought he would. He had even finished two whole balls of yarn. He sat inside the common area of the estate near a window, listening to the rain.

“How’s the sweater going?” Ayaka asked after walking up to him. “You said that’s for Y/N right?”

“It is. Does it look good?” Thoma asked pausing the row he was working on to hold up the sweater for Ayaka to see.

“It’s very pretty. I see her wearing that color all the time.” She examined the fabric. “Oh! That looks a lot like the sweater she borrows from you.”

“That’s the point.” He went back to working on the sweater as he talked. “It’s for our anniversary. I just wanted to make something I knew she would like and use.”

“Awww. That’s really sweet of you. Not to pry but I thought you two had a date today.”

“Raincheck. It’s fine though. It's not the best weather for a date anyway. There’s always next week anyway.” He shrugged it off.

“That’s true. I guess this makes it a bad time to ask to learn then.”

Thoma thought about it for a second. “Well, I could use teaching you as a way for me to start the back panel. Let me go grab some things. I’ll be right back.”

-

It had been a month of working on the sweater. The front panel had been completed and the back panel was a little over halfway done. He was supposed to be starting the sleeves already. He didn’t slow down from taking time to try to teach Ayaka. He actually got a lot done while showing her what to do.

He was stressed out. Dates were canceled, cut short, or plans were completely thrown out into something different. Normally this wouldn’t bother him too badly. People get busy and that’s okay. This was different though.

There had been one day last week when he had run into her on a trip to Inazuma City. It was like she was trying to avoid him once he had yelled out her name. Perhaps she was already trying to avoid him. It wasn’t like he had done anything wrong. He had done nothing but treat her with the love and respect that she deserved.

Was it wrong to question her when she had done the same? Had. That's the word he kept getting stuck on as of late. He never even got an explanation of why she was so busy as of late.

Maybe that’s what made him so concerned. It didn’t help she kept turning down any trips to go to any fabric stores together. He could have sworn he saw her leave one the other day. She left with Itto of all people. It didn’t make sense to him. They didn’t talk or hang out before from what he knew.

Were they friends and he just didn’t know? But she would have told him. She would always happily tell him of the things she did with her friends. Thoma really didn’t want to think the worst. Y/N was his girlfriend for almost a year. Someone who he trusted so much. To think that she would betray him in such a way felt too harsh.

Thoma stopped his stitching and looked down at the back panel of this sweater he had been working on. Oh no. Had he caused this?

When he was first learning knitting he was told how it was a bad idea to make a sweater for your partner. The sweater curse is what it was called. A superstition he thought could be easily avoided by waiting for the right person and knowing he was secure in the relationship. Thoma wasn’t one to believe in curses of the paranormal or rational kind.

But this was a rational curse. Maybe he should have taken it more seriously. Were there signs she wanted the relationship that he hadn’t noticed? If there was he hadn’t noticed. 

“Is everything alright?” Ayato asked the question bringing him out of his internal worries.

“I’m not too sure.”

-

This was wrong. So many levels of wrong. Why did he take his lord’s offer to track his own girlfriend down with the Shuumatsuban? This had to be an invasion of her privacy and trust.  He should just walk away before anyone notices that he is here. 

“Yo! My bro! What are you doing here?” Itto had greeted him from the entrance to the fabric shop. He had always been friendly despite the imposing figure he had. Too much care for others to purposefully cause any pain. Yet Thoma was here not knowing if his warm greeting was full of lies.

“I just came to pick something up.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He was missing a few things to finish up some projects that were just lying around. Now it would be weird if he left right away.

“We should totally go get some food first. When was the last time we had a meal together? My treat!” Itto offered placing a hand on Thoma’s back trying to lead him away from the fabric shop.

Thoma moved back away. “I need to get this done now. I have a bit of a list of things to get done today. Maybe next time.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you need and I’ll grab it for you. That would knock your list down so fast.” Itto kept trying to stand in Thoma’s way.

“I appreciate the help but I got it.”

“You know this store is kind of the worst. I think there’s a better one in Ritou. Why don’t I show you it?” Itto looked as if he was thinking off the top of his head just to keep Thoma out of the store.

Thoma forced a smile trying to stay calm but Itto’s behavior only made him more worried about what was going on. “Another day. I need to go in now.” He dogged past the oni trying to stay in his way making it into the fabric shop.

Itto followed behind with worry on his face. He tried so hard to keep Thoma out. He had one job!

Inside the shop towards the back, Y/N was sitting in the back next to Itto's Granny. She had a cloth in her hand and was moving a needle back and forth. “You know I'm still worried he won't like it.”

“With how much you improved you shouldn't doubt your skills now. I bet he'll love it just cause it's from you.” She comforted Y/N. “It's going to be a wonderful anniversary present.”

Thoma’s face went red. He shouldn't have walked in here. He started walking backwards hoping not to be noticed by either of them. He walked back into a standing filled with different buttons and threads knocking it down and falling with it as well.

The two of them stood up quickly. Itto was already getting ready to help Thoma up. Y/N looked down, frowning that her boyfriend, who normally she would have been happy to see, was in the same store as her. 

“I'm sorry. I did try.” Itto apologized as Thoma stood on his feet.

“You did your best. Let's give them some space.” His granny spoke before going outside with Itto. The shop owner shook their head before getting up to leave as well.

“You were supposed to be at the estate right now. What are you doing here?” Y/N asked before placing the quilt down on the table carefully.

“I just uh,” he bent down real quick, grabbing a button. “Needed this. I'm off to go pay for it now.”

A frown filled Y/N’s face. 

“I'm sorry. I just really got worried because you were acting differently. I thought I knitted myself into a curse and I got worried you didn't want to be with me and were starting to pull away.” He rambled. “I didn't want to believe it so I had to figure out what was going on.”

Y/N walked straight up to him and gave him a kiss shutting up his rambles. “You're cute you know that?”

His face was already red with embarrassment but felt even hotter now. “I think you've told me that.”

“I was trying to surprise you by learning how to make a quilt for you for our anniversary. You could have told me you felt neglected. I'm sorry. I never wanted to do that.” Y/N apologized as she pulled him into a hug.

“I should be the one apologizing. You were just trying to do a nice thing for me and I was thinking that you were just over m-” another kiss to shut him up. He pulled back with a smile attached to his face. “It's hard to speak when you keep doing that.”

“That's why I keep doing it. I must have been neglecting you if you keep rambling like this. If I let you go on any longer you might just tell me what you were knitting. I want it to be a surprise.”

Thoma let out a laugh. “Okay. That's understandable but I feel bad. I ruined your gift.”

“You have no clue how much I wanted to tell you. There are only so many times I can hear Itto tell me it's cool or his Granny telling me it's pretty. The compliments aren't enough unless it's from you.”

It was her turn to be shut up with a kiss. It quickly turned to Thoma peppering her face with kisses. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

Y/N laughed with each kiss tickling her face. “I love you too. You wouldn't be here if you didn't. Love makes you people do dumb things.”

Thoma thought for a second thinking about the offer Ayato gave him just to help figure out what was going on. He would tell her a little later. “Yes, it does.”

[dreamingofaizawa]

Coffee and Stitches - Part Two

Shouta Aizawa x AFAB! Fem! Reader

Warnings: None just an insane amount of fluff

Word Count: 8.4k

Author's Note: PART TWO LETS GO

Enjoy~

You’ve fallen into a nice rhythm with him. Working your shifts, handing Shouta a new sample or two, experimenting with more drinks. He does end up taking you up on your offer to sleep upstairs, and he brings his sleeping bag along with an overnight bag and spare clothing for himself. It’s only a few nights, and he makes sure to always clean up after himself and always makes some kind of meal for you afterward as some kind of payback. He’s sweet, and kind, and he may be blunt most of the time but he’s fun to be around. More than a few times you’d caught him stifling a laugh at some of the dumb jokes you’d make, and you’d call him out on it just to make him admit you’re funny. He’s helped you brainstorm a few of the things you’d need to change around the cafe for winter time, and you’ve spent a whole lot of time together after his patrols just sitting at a table and talking about nothing over whatever warm drink tickles your fancy as the weather gets colder.

You learn alot about him, his favorite things to eat and drink, his favorite things to do in his free time of which he has very little. He likes cats, but doesn’t have the time to take care of one like they should be cared for, nor the time for any pet really. You learn he developed his very own fighting style with that scarf of his and it took him six years to fully master it, the calluses and scars on his hands are a testament to that fact. He doesn’t drive anywhere, doesn’t usually need to when he can swing around and run across rooftops most of the time, but he does have a license to drive as well as an old car he rarely uses but manages to maintain well enough. You also learn he’s a ruthless but also merciful teacher. He’ll ‘flunk’ any of the students that can’t meet the standards for his course, but re-enroll them in a different course so they still have the opportunities that come with attending UA. He’s kind in that way, where he’ll witness a student’s limits and shift the course of their schooling to reflect their strengths and weaknesses. There are so many layers to this man that you’d never known, but the more you talk the more you want to uncover.

It was nice, the push and pull of your nightly interactions. Even on your off days you’d make sure to be down in the cafe, just to greet him as usual and meet him after a patrol for a cozy conversation. More often than not, he’s leaving as the sun rises, and the morning shift is getting used to having him around as a regular. You’ve grown a lot closer to him, and it warms you much like a drink when you think about the man. Today as you fall asleep, your mind drifts back to the hero. You’ve got it bad, huh? You’ve got to keep this thing in check. 

The low buzz of your phone is what wakes you up. Only half-awake, you probe around beneath your pillow and locate the damned thing, answering it without reading the caller ID. 

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” The deep, tired, monotone voice on the other end jolts you wide awake. It’s Shouta.

“No! No, it’s fine, hi!” You sit up in bed, slinging your feet over the side to get your brain working at full speed.

“Hi.” It takes a moment for it to click in your brain that he sounds amused. You try not to giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Hi. Um, what’s up? You calling for any specific reason?” A hum sounds on the other side, and a small ruckus is unfolding in the background.

“Yes, actually. You’re off tonight, correct?” Well, today is…Friday? Which means you’re going to be off tonight and Monday night. Another overnight worker would be covering for you those days, since they have another job this is their secondary income so it works out for the both of you.

“Yup, I’m off tonight and Monday night, why?” You can hear some more commotion, maybe two other voices? It’s hard to tell exactly what they’re saying. He clears his throat.

“Actually I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my place tonight for dinner.” Tonight? For dinner? What in the world brought this on? And what could you say but yes?

“Oh, sure! What time should I be there?”

“How does 7 o’clock sound?” That’s in…4 hours?

“That sounds nice. I’ll see you then?” Whatever was happening in the background had calmed down, silence filling the line as you wait for a response.

“Seven it is then. I’ll text you the address. See you later.” He ends the call there, and your heart begins to race in your chest. Did this qualify as a date? You weren’t prepared for this. The first thing you do is text Rika, the only three words that would get her attention.

Date tonight. Help.

You hadn’t realized she worked today, and that her shift ended about three minutes ago, so when your door burst open and Rika shouted as she ran down the hall you were startled to say the least. Finally reaching your room, she runs over and grabs your shoulders, shaking you just a little too hard.

“Tell me it’s a date with Eraser.” All you can do is nod. She nearly shrieks.

“Okay, okay, we need to get you dolled up. I’m thinking a bodycon dress, sensible stilettos, bold but cute makeup. Hair! What are we going to do for your hair?” You grab her shoulders this time effectively shutting her up.

“Rika, it’s only a small dinner at his place. We aren’t going out anywhere. He’s making dinner.” You can almost see the gears turning in her head, the outfit ideas flying around in her brain.

“Bet. Sit still, I’ve got this.” You do just that, letting her raid your closet and throw a few combinations in specific piles on the bed. All of them are a good balance between casual meeting and dinner date. The last thing you want to do is make it seem like you want this to be a real date, because if this is meant to be some kind of ‘thank you’ dinner it would be embarrassing to look like you expected something romantically involved. She’s still buzzing around, digging through the little makeup you’ve got and putting together something sensible. You catch the lacy pair of underwear and matching bra she tosses at you with a frown.

“What the hell are these for?”

“Duh, for when he’s undressing you! You can’t go in without a matching set.” 

“Oh shut the fuck up! This may not even be a romantic date! And even then this would be the first and we definitely won’t be getting anywhere near that stage yet!” You grab a normal pair of underwear and hop in the shower, using the new citrus scented body scrub you’d gotten not too long ago. It would pair well with the raspberry lotion you’ve got, and that scent combo would be subtle enough to not overpower whatever meal he had planned. When you’re out Rika has an outfit laid out for you, and you must say she’s nailed your style perfectly. The layers are perfect for the cooler weather, and the jacket can come off once you’re inside. 

“Now, makeup. Sit.” You’re planted in your desk chair while she fiddles around. Mascara, very subtle eyeliner, a hint of blush and sparkly clear lip gloss. She touches up your brows lightly and once she’s done she sweeps your hair into a casual updo, all the while you apply the lotion to your body. When you’re all done and dressed, it’s 6pm. According to the gps, it should only take fifteen minutes to get to his apartment complex by car. You’ve got 45 minutes to kill, and you figured you’d stop by the liquor store and pick up a bottle of champagne. Rika agrees.

“Come on, we’ll take my car.” You eye her suspiciously.

“Your car? Are you going to take me to his apartment?” 

“Well duh, I’m not gonna let you drive! You’re not planning on staying over, so you should be out of there by what, ten? I can pick you up, easy peasy.” Somehow, you feel like this could be a setup, but you don’t voice that opinion. 

“Fine, I guess you can help pick the champagne.” With that you head out. The store has a much larger variety of champagne than you’d anticipated, but between the two of you the choice was narrowed to a white champagne that should pair with pretty much anything. By the time you actually get to the complex, you’re fifteen minutes early, and you text Shouta that you’d arrived. He sends you the floor number and the apartment number, and Rika sends you off with a ‘good luck!’. Shouta buzzes you in at the door, and once you’re inside you take in the decor. It’s higher end than you’re used to, but you supposed that’s the kind of thing a hero’s salary can get. Then again, it’s definitely not the fanciest in the world, so Shouta choosing to live here makes sense. He didn’t really strike you as the luxurious type anyways. The carpet in the lobby is kept insanely clean for how dark it is, the navy blue still very bright instead of dull and gray like one would expect. There’s a reception desk where you fill out your name and the room number you’re visiting, and the woman points you in the direction of the elevators with a smile.

The elevators are all chrome, the ceiling a smooth mirror that you gaze at your reflection in. You haven’t looked or felt this pretty in a while, you’d never really had a reason to get dressed up at all. The button for his floor is pressed, and the soft ding notifies you of your arrival. It’s easy to find his apartment, the rooms numbered clearly and boldly on plaques outside the doors. When you arrive, you knock, and wait patiently. The door opens and you’re met with the wonderful aroma of Italian food. Tomato sauce, cheese, oregano and all kinds of spices. Shouta stands before you in a black button-down and comfortable slacks, thank heavens you aren’t overdressed, his sleeves are rolled up above his elbows and the top few buttons of that shirt are left undone. His hair is brushed back into a low ponytail, the scruff that’s normally on his face has been cleaned up. Not clean shaven, but neat. It looks good.

When you’re done looking him over, you look up into his eyes only to see as he gives you a once-over. His eyes almost burn a path down your body, and when he finally meets your gaze he blinks and smiles sheepishly.

“Hi. Sorry, come in. I’m just finishing up. I hope you like chicken parmesan.” You giggle, stepping past him and placing your shoes on the mat beside the door.

“Hi yourself. Thank you for having me, I do like a good chicken parm.” The door is shut and you hand him the bottle you’d brought with you.

“I didn’t know what you were making, so I went with a mild option.” He takes it and sets it on the counter, and once you’ve taken your jacket off and hung it on the coat rack, he holds a hand out for you to take. It’s easy to place your hand in his, easier still to let him lead you around the corner away from the kitchen into a small dining room. The lights are dimmed just a little, a small round dining table with forks and spoons set for two, spaces left for plates to go. 

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way. I didn’t get to tell you earlier.” Heat rises to your face, the compliment making you fluster. He pulls out your chair and pushes it in as you sit, ever the gentleman.

“Thank you, Shouta. You look good too. I like what you did with your stubble. It’s nice.” You could have sworn his own cheeks warmed just a little. 

“Thanks. It was a friend’s idea.” You beam at him and his honesty.

“Well your friend has good taste.” He smiles back, then disappears into the kitchen. He called you beautiful! If Rika were here she’d be screaming right about now, you’re sure. The aromas from the kitchen are wafting through the air, your stomach gurgling just the smallest bit. You hadn’t eaten yet, considering you’d woken up and immediately started getting ready. So you were ready to eat, especially something that smelled so good. Shouta called out that he was coming around the corner with something hot, so you remained where you were and allowed him to set two small bowls of what looked like some kind of soup on the table, then disappear again and come back with two plates of the chicken parm. Once again he goes and returns with two glasses of champagne and two glasses of water. He takes his seat across from you, then clears his throat.

“So, this is no five-course meal, but I like to think my cooking is good enough for a date. So, french onion soup and chicken parmesan. I’ve also got some tossed salad if you’d prefer, but I didn’t know for sure.” A large grin spreads across your face, he’s just so cute and sweet.

“It’s wonderful, Shouta. Thank you. I’m excited to try it all, it smells amazing.” His own smile matches yours, and you dig into your soup. It really does smell good, and after cooling the spoon you can’t help but hum at the flavors. It’s perfectly seasoned, not overly salty, and the onions are caramelized perfectly.

“Shouta, this is amazing. My god, how long did this all take you?” He swallows down his own spoonful before answering.

“I started the tomato sauce and soup broth just before I called you. In hindsight, I probably should have waited until you’d actually said yes to the date before starting the cooking.” In all of that, the one thing your brain stays hooked on is the date part. 

“So, this is a date then?” When your eyes meet his, he seems cautious. 

“I’d very much like for it to be, if you’re alright with that.” You beam at him.

“I’d love that, Shouta.” Relief floods his features, and he takes the time to savor another bite of his soup. You do the same.

“I’m glad. As much as I enjoy our late night talks in your cafe, I’ve been meaning to spend time with you outside of work. In a more personal setting.” 

“I can only imagine, with what little free time you do have, that it can’t have been easy to find a time for this. Weekdays surely wouldn’t have worked.” He nods.

“I got lucky today. School let out early for both students and teachers, so I was able to get everything set up and prepare a meal like this.” It is a wonderful meal. He’s quite the home chef, though you’re not all that surprised after he’d made you so many meals at your place on a whim. The conversation is light and ventures around to all kinds of things. Your soup is finished off and the chicken parm is just as delicious, the sauce deep and savory with just a hint of sweet. You both sip at the champagne, but the water is the first to go. You ask him more about his life outside of work, what kind of things he’d like to do if he had the time, what kinds of places he’d like to visit given the chance. He’d love to see Greece, and the mountains of Machu Picchu. You’re surprised to find you both share an interest in ancient civilizations. You love the architecture and art, and he loves learning the bits of culture we can pick out from the ruins. The conversation continues long after your meals have finished, the both of you deep diving into the ancient civilizations you’d been obsessed with. You make sure to help him clean up the kitchen, not taking no for an answer, and you talk through the cleanup about random things. 

It’s domestic, and sweet, and makes your chest bloom with warmth. 

“Thank you for coming. I had a lot of fun tonight.” You grin up at him from where you stand near the door, your shoes not yet on your feet. Somewhere in your mind you want to delay having to leave, even just a little bit.

“I had fun too, thank you for inviting me. I hope maybe we can do something like this again?” His smile is infectious.

“Absolutely.” Your phone buzzes then, Rika texting you to say she’s waiting out front. Which means, unfortunately, it’s time to go. As much as you really don’t want to leave, you turn to Shouta.

“Well my ride’s here. I’ll see you tomorrow night?” 

“You can count on it.” It takes you just a moment for you to work up the courage to do what your mind is begging you to do, turning back to him after getting your shoes on. You motion for him to lean in close, and when he does you place your hand on his jaw and leave a soft kiss on his cheek. Your blood is pounding in your ears as you do it, the adrenaline making your heart race uncontrollably. He’s stunlocked, blinking down at you as you stare back up at him. You don’t know what you’re expecting, hell you aren’t expecting anything at all really, ready to turn and leave with a grin plastered on your face for the rest of the night. You’re surprised when his hand comes up to cup your cheek and he leaves an equally gentle kiss on your temple. It makes your face warm even further, the heat crawling up from your chest as you bite your lip to hide your smile.

“Good night.” He’s grinning while he says it, opening the door for you to step through.

“Good night.” You grin right back, and once the door closes you’re practically skipping all the way down the hall to the elevator. This is going to make your entire week, you’re sure. This was one of the best nights you’ve had in a long time. You leap into Rika’s car, and she can just tell from the look on your face that you’ve had a very good night. 

“So it was a real date then?” You nod, not quite ready to speak. If you tried you might just talk until you turn blue, forgetting to breathe altogether in your splurge of words. She laughs, beginning the drive back to the cafe. You can’t seem to stop smiling, and Rika definitely doesn’t let you get away with it.

“Must have been a wonderful date to make you this smiley. What happened?” You shake your head, not wanting to distract her while driving.

“I’ll tell you when we get to the cafe. You have some time to spare right?”

“For you, always. Especially when your love life is involved. It’s been years since you’ve been interested in anyone, let alone gone on any kind of date.” You roll your eyes, but she’s right. It’s been a very long time since you’d been romantically involved with anybody. Your life as of late has been consumed with the cafe, between opening a few years ago and scheduling and finances and insurance…It’s been a lot. You just haven’t had the time for romance, not that you ever cared all that much to put yourself out there. You can’t count the number of times Rika has begged you to make a profile on a dating app. Every time you’d refuse.

“Good. I’ll gush about it all once we’re inside.” The look she shoots you is pure surprise.

“Gush? Oh I’m sleeping over tonight.” Your grin only widens. It isn’t long before you’re parking and you almost sprint up to the apartment. It’s much easier to strip out of your outfit than it was to get into it, and the both of you get comfortable on the futon couch with a mountain of pillows, and she immediately drills you for the details. What he cooked, what he wore, what he said and what you talked about. After all her questions were out, all that was left for you to gush and gush about were all the little things that made you giggle and smile and the things that made you swoon. Like the way he kept his sleeves rolled up to expose his arms, the way his dress shirt and slacks fit his body so well, the way he’d swept his hair back.  You detail almost every moment, all the things you’d talked about over dinner and then some. 

“Rika, when I tell you this man is going to be the death of me.” She squeals, rolling over so she’s on her back.

“I’m so happy for you girl omg.” You grab her arm, not forgetting the one detail that is sure to have her screaming.

“I haven’t even told you the best part.” Her gasp is loud, and she rolls back over to face you, her eyes boring into your own. She’s intent on hearing this.

“I kissed him on the cheek before I left-” She squeaks, but you shoot her a look to wait for the rest, “and he looked shocked at first but then he kissed me back.” Unable to contain it any longer, she plants her face in a pillow and squeals, her feet kicking the bed behind her. The memory makes you giddy, and you hold your pillow close to your chest.

“I know. I mean, it was just on the forehead but the way he held my face. I swear I had little hearts in my eyes. If I didn’t know better I’d say I was in a sappy romance movie.” You talk until you pass out, the both of you so tired after hours of talking about the date. It’s almost noon when you wake up, Rika snoring beside you. She probably didn't have a shift today, so your late night date talk wouldn’t pose a problem to her sleep. Already wide awake, you busy yourself with little chores around the house. Tidying up the bathroom, maintaining the kitchen, sweeping the corners of the house where dust tends to collect. Nothing too huge, your weekly deep cleaning comes every Monday since you’re off. Rika wakes up then, diving through your fridge for anything decent to munch on. She groans when she doesn’t find anything she wants.

“You know the cafe is just a staircase away, right?” In her tired morning haze, she’d forgotten she gets free food in the cafe. She disappears down the stairs and you finish up whatever you were doing. Coffee wouldn’t hurt, you’ve been feeling like having something with white chocolate in it. The door opens and shuts, and you call out from where you’re buried in the closet to return your cleaning supplies to their proper homes.

“So what did you get?” The closet door closes easily, and you dust off your clothes as you hear the answer.

“Mac and cheese, I think.” That wasn’t Rika’s voice. You whirl, meeting Shouta face to face as he stands mere feet from you.

“Shouta! Hi!” His smirk is sly and teasing, and you can’t help the way you bite your bottom lip to hide your bright grin.

“Hi. You forgot this last night.” He holds up your jacket in his hand, and you take it graciously.

“Oh my gosh I didn’t even realize. Thank you for bringing it, but you were coming in tonight weren’t you?” He nods.

“So why not just bring it to me then? I’d have been down there.” The faintest tint of pink appears on his cheeks, and he can’t look you in the eyes.

“It’s kind of a selfish reason. If I’m being honest here I just wanted to see you again.” You do grin then, not bothering to hide it anymore. He’s just too cute. In the silence you can’t help but giggle at the bashful expression on his face. 

“Yeah, yeah laugh it up.” You go to hang your coat up in your room, still giggling out of joy.

“I’m sorry, I’m just very happy at the moment. A handsome pro-hero I’d just gone on an amazing date with not even 12 hours prior is now in my apartment, admitting that he’d gone out of his way just to see me. I could pinch myself.” With him still in the hallway you can’t see the blush on his cheeks.

“Handsome?” At the shock in his voice you whip around, stomping out to the hall, and you’re sure you’re looking at him like he’d grown another head.

“Uh, yeah. You may not be the most popular pro out there, and a plethora of girls swoon over that oversized red chicken, but there are so many women and men that find you hot.” He hums, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck and the tiniest bit of pink crawls up his neck onto his face.

“I figured someone was bound to, being a pro means putting yourself out into the public eye.” You nod enthusiastically.

“Yes, and one of those people is me. Like I said, you’re hot.” His other hand comes up to cover his face entirely. You’re sure he’s beet red under there and your grin is mischievous, the opportunity you’ve just been handed is irresistible.

“Are you…flustered, Eraserhead?” He peeks from between his fingers, a small ‘no’ muffled behind his palm. Obviously, you don’t buy it, so you push more buttons. Tilting your head sweetly, clasping your hands behind your back, swaying your hips just that tiny bit as you step into his space. 

“You are. A pro hero like you, flustered by something as simple as a woman calling you hot?” You lean way up into his face, which is still covered by a hand. His eyes widen just a fraction, and he barely leans away from you. Still you push, reaching a hand up to rest on his chest, toying with the collar of his shirt.

“You’re just too cute.” Suddenly his demeanor changes, the hand on his face dropping to rest on your hand, still on his chest. The other comes to land on the small of your back, trapping your other hand beneath it, and he tugs you close to lean over you. The change is so sudden you can’t help but arch the tiniest bit away from his face, which is mere inches from your own. Blood rushes in your ears, heart pounding in your chest at the dynamic switch. Now you’re the one flustered. He’s just so handsome and he’s right there, and you’re stuck in his hold. His eyes bore into your own, piercing and heavy and dark.

“You’ve got to be careful which games you play. You’ll get yourself in trouble.” The heat in your face feels like an inferno, your chest heaving as tension settles in the air between you. His hands are hot where they rest on your own, the skin contact and close proximity sends a tremor into your fingertips. You’re nervous. You’re anxious. You want to kiss him so bad.

“Shaking? Already?” He leans closer, your noses nearly touching and you swallow to help alleviate the dryness in your throat.

“I haven’t even done anything yet…”

“Okay, I definitely should have given you guys more time alone.” Shouta’s hands are off you in an instant, the both of you putting as much space between you in the confines of the hallway. Rika’s settling onto the couch holding a bowl of something hot, steam rising off the surface, and the grin on her face looks like the cat that got the cream. Her bowl is placed on the coffee table, and she faces you once again.

“However, after seeing what I’d just seen, I’m glad I interrupted when I did. You kids need to learn to keep it in your pants when there are guests around.” Shouta coughs at that comment with a mumbled apology. You only roll your eyes. The both of you walk toward the door, and you’re ready to see him off when he stops and turns to you.

“Actually, I’d also come for another reason.” He drops his hands into his pockets, his posture relaxing.

“In a couple weeks it’s going to be cold enough for the ice rink down the street to open up. I was wondering if you’d like to join me for some ice skating?” This time your grin is wide, joy leaking into your face.

“I’d love to, Shouta. Friday again?” He nods.

“Friday evening, in two weeks. 5 pm.” 

“I’ll be there.” The corners of his mouth tug out just a little, a smile pulling at his cheeks. He seems pleased.

“Good. It’s a date.” A date. A second date, with Shouta Aizawa. It takes every ounce of your willpower not to jump up and throw your arms around him. What in the world has this man done to you? He’s gone much faster than you’d like, disappearing down the stairs, and the instant the door is shut Rika’s comments begin.

“So how close were you to seeing him naked?” 

“Rika!” She throws her hands in the air.

“What?! It’s a valid question!” 

“No, it isn’t. Now eat before your food gets cold.” Her eyes roll, but she drops the subject. The next two weeks are spent as usual, plus the added anticipation of your upcoming date. Every time Shouta walks in the door you’re beaming, and you’ve noticed that slowly his smiles have become more frequent, however small they may be. You dare to think it’s because he gets to see you. You’ve already got your outfit planned out, a good mix between warmth and fall protection, and cute enough for a date. It gets much colder in the span of two weeks, snow beginning to fall regularly. Shouta’s hero getup didn’t seem to change all that much with the weather, but when you asked him about it he’d explained it’s almost an identical suit, just more insulated and a tad thicker and heavier. That made sense, he wouldn’t want to compromise the suit’s capabilities, but he’s also probably not very cold while sprinting across rooftops anyways. Now, as you wait ever so patiently for Shouta to walk in on Thursday night, your nerves are buzzing with excitement for tomorrow. You get to go on another date with this man that sends butterflies through your entire body. Mentally you kick yourself, being so giddy over a man so quickly has never ended well.

“You’re distracted tonight.” His voice makes you jump, the erasure hero standing directly in front of you on the other side of the counter. Huh. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Oh, yeah I guess I am. Sorry, I’m just excited for tomorrow.” His small smile makes heat burst in your chest. You’ll never get sick of that, even if it isn’t a full smile.

“Me too. I get to spend more time with a pretty lady.” That makes you grin way too hard, and you reflexively look down to hide that fact. The way he makes you so bashful is baffling, he’s somehow turned you into a lovesick school girl staring at her crush for the first time. 

“What, you get to call me hot and I can’t call you pretty?” A giggle bubbles up in your throat at the indignation in his tone and you gaze back up at him.

“I never said that. I like when you tell me I’m pretty.” His expression can only be described as smug.

“Then I guess I should say it more often.” Leaning over the counter, you let your elbows hold your weight and prop your chin in one hand.

“Not too often. You’ll give me a big head.” He reaches toward you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The action makes you blush but you don’t move away from his hand, even as his hand finds its way to cup your cheek.

“I don’t think so. I know how to appreciate beauty without spoiling her rotten.” You have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep the beaming grin from splitting across your face, but there isn’t much you can do about the flare of heat that washes over your entire body. His words are sending so many happy emotions flooding through your brain. Far too quickly for your liking, he pulls away completely, turning and walking to the door.

“I’ll be back after my patrol.” He calls over his shoulder. You don’t try to respond, he’s already out the door and swinging onto a rooftop as a light snow comes down. Now, with the space to breathe, you allow yourself to quietly celebrate the last few minutes. Nerves buzzing, cheeks hurting, face warm and all you can do is wrap your arms tight around yourself in a tight hug to keep from screaming out loud. The cafe remains empty for the most part until Shouta returns, albeit a little later than usual, and you greet him with a grin and a wave.

“So how’d it go?” His shoulders roll in a lazy shrug.

“Nothing crazy. I’m guessing it wasn’t much different here.” You nod.

“Yup. But it’s alright, I had something to look forward to.” One dark eyebrow lifts, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh yeah? And what would that be?” You sigh, put on a dreamy smile, gaze up toward the ceiling as if there were a cloud playing your thoughts like a movie floating there.

“Just this handsome pro-hero. He’s a regular, always comes in before and after his patrols. I can’t lie, I always look forward to seeing him, you know?” He nods, playing along.

“I do know. I’ve got a cute cafe owner I like visiting all the time. On my really dead patrol nights I bide my time waiting to go back and see her.” There’s no point trying to hide your beaming smile, not when his matches. A laugh is shared between you, the cafe feeling just that little bit cozier in the cold weather. You stare at each other for a long while, the silence of the cafe stretching between you. His hair is damp from the snowflakes that had melted when he walked in, his cheeks not as red as they were in the cold air outside. You take in his face, the sharp angles of his stubbled jaw, his piercing eyes and the designer bags beneath them, his lips that you’d love to be kissing right about now. He really is such a handsome man. A handsome, tired man.

“Do you need to sleep here tonight? You came back late.” His hum is low and smooth, vibrating through your chest.

“I guess I did. Got held up with a punk at the end of my patrol route. I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” 

“Go on up. You should still have spare clothes up there.” He nods, then heads up the staircase. He knows the drill, if he needs a shower he’ll take a quick one before settling into the futon for a much needed nap. You really don’t know how he does it, living off naps and very little full rest. It’s a miracle he doesn’t collapse from exhaustion half the time. The rest of your shift is dead, and when the three covering the morning come in you let them take over. It’s easy to stay quiet as you make your way up the stairs, living here for a few years means you’d already memorized everything that makes noise. Shouta’s passed out, wrapped up in his sleeping bag. He didn’t even pull the couch into a bed, just hopped into his yellow cocoon and knocked out. You have to fight the urge to stuff a small pillow beneath his head and cover him with a blanket. He’ll have set an alarm for himself, so you disappear into the bathroom for a nice hot shower before settling into bed. You’re asleep the moment your head hits your pillow. Shouta is gone when you wake up, but that’s to be expected. He didn’t make anything this time, but that’s never been expected if you’re being honest. Rika texts you, saying she’d be up in a couple hours after her shift finishes, and you get busy with a light lunch for the both of you. When she bursts through the door the first thing she asks is if you’re ready for tonight.

“Yeah I am. I’ve been excited and waiting for this date ever since he’d asked.” Her shit-eating grin is not lost on you.

“I bet. What do you think he’d do if I locked you out of your apartment?” You stab your chopsticks at her face, shooting her a look that could kill.

“Don’t even think about it, asshole. The last thing I want to do is inconvenience him with a surprise sleepover he wasn’t prepared for.” If her smile before was mischievous, this one was downright evil.

“I don’t think he'll be inconvenienced by that, considering you almost got dicked down in the hallway two weeks ago.” Your jaw drops, a loud gasp leaving your mouth. The flames that creep onto your face is a mix between embarrassment and annoyance, and she’s laughing at you.

“Shut the fuck up about that already! You haven’t stopped talking about that for two whole weeks.” She’s clutching her stomach, doubled over the counter, cackling hysterically. It takes about two full minutes for her to calm down and wipe the tears from her eyes. What kind of best friend is she anyways?

“Yeah and I won’t stop talking about it until you actually get laid. You’re too pent up, gotta let loose, especially when you’re so against one night stands and hookups.”

“And rightfully so. Strangers are dangerous, especially when quirks are involved. Nuh uh, I’m not taking that kind of a chance.” She sighs, dramatically, and her shoulders sag then shrug.

“Yeah I know. You’re the only reason I’ve actually given those up, your paranoia is rubbing off on me.” Good. She needed to be more careful, one of her hookups a year back was making you nervous with how often he’d turn up looking for her. You still don’t know how he found where she worked. She’s blocked him and made it very clear she wanted nothing more to do with him, and he’s been out of sight, out of mind ever since. And since that incident she’s done exactly what you have, sworn off hookups and one night stands.

“Anyway, wanna see my outfit?” You spend the next twenty minutes getting dressed and having a mini fashion show with your skating outfit. Rika’s as supportive as ever, hyping you up and making inappropriately suggestive comments to make you laugh. Once you’re completely ready you take off, deciding it’d be nice to just walk to the rink since it’s only a few blocks down. A text is sent to Shouta alerting him that you’d arrived, but you soon see that you didn’t need to send it at all since he’s waiting for you at the entrance. He’s on his phone, leaning against a wall, and you assume he gets the text because his head shoots up and his eyes dart around until they land on you. You wave when he spots you, he waves back, and you get a good look at him as you approach. He’s got thick dark jeans on, snow boots that are probably waterproof, and a deep maroon puffer jacket over what looks like a thick turtleneck. There’s a fluffy gray scarf around his neck, matching gloves on his hands, and his hair is loose over his shoulders. He looks warm.

“Hi.” You smile at his simple greeting.

“Hi yourself. You look cozy.” He hums, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.

“It’s cold.” You almost laugh at him. Almost. He can see you stifling your giggle and drags a gloved hand down his face.

“Yeah yeah I know. Come on, we gotta go get our skates.” It only takes you a moment, and you decide to grab his hand as you walk through the open gates. If he’s surprised by the action he doesn’t show it, his grip tightening around yours as you grab your respective sizes from the clerk at the counter. Your bag is deposited in a locker, and you’re on a bench pulling the skates on your feet. He’s done lacing his own long before you are.

“Do you need any help?” Yeah, you might.

“Honestly I haven’t gone ice skating since I was a kid.” He hums, then tugs one of your legs over his lap to lace up the skates.

“Let me know if it’s too tight.” It takes a couple do-overs, but once you’ve got both laced up comfortably you’re wobbling toward the gate on the rink. You’re nervous, it’s been many years since you’d done this and muscle memory isn’t going to be enough to keep you upright on the ice. 

“We can stay on the wall if you’d like.” You nod, a shaky ‘okay’ leaving your mouth. He steps on the ice first, easily transitioning. He must have done this often to be so smooth on the ice, but also he’s a pro hero. You have a much harder time getting into the rink, one hand gripping the wall and the other squeezing Shouta’s hand for dear life.

“You’re alright. Try not to be so stiff, keep your knees bent. There you go.” It’s definitely not easy, but it’s fun. Shouta gives you little tips, and whether you take them or not he encourages you to keep moving. It gets marginally easier to move comfortably across the slick ice, your legs beginning to actually move the way you want them to. And now more comfortable on the ice, you allow yourself to bask in Shouta’s presence. He’s so strong where he holds you upright, but oh so gentle when he pulls you along with him. His smile is lazy and sweet, and you can’t help the way your cheeks start to hurt with how much you’ve been smiling yourself. For a moment you have to wonder what kind of saint you’d been in your past life to deserve such a kind man to want to date you. Even if this doesn’t end in a full relationship, and even if you end up falling apart completely, you can live happily knowing that at least for right now, you’re happy with someone like him to share moments like these.

The sun sets while you’re focused on your feet, the dark bringing cold with it. Even though you feel like you’ve been running for an hour you’re freezing before long, and Shouta’s not far behind you. It’s easier getting off the ice than it was getting on, and your aching feet are relieved when the skates are yanked off and your comfortable shoes are back on. You’re going to be sore tomorrow, you’re already starting to feel the ache in your thighs and core.

“Are you hungry?” You nod, take his hand when he stands and offers it to you. He makes it easy to fall into step beside him, talking about nothing and everything as you make your way down the street. There’s a food truck you hadn’t spotted before that sells heaping bowls of ramen, and you find a popup table to get comfortable at as you dig into your steaming bowls. It’s a perfect little meal, filling your bellies and warming you from the inside out. 

“Thank you for tonight, Shouta.” He tilts his head, setting his chopsticks in the empty ramen bowl.

“So you had fun?” Your nod is quick and strong, a smirk growing on your face.

“I always have fun when I’m with you.” He matches your little smirk.

“That’s a pretty cheesy thing for you to say.” You shrug.

“Cheesy, but true. I really do enjoy all the time I get with you, even if it’s just for a few minutes before your patrol.” 

“Well it’s nice to know I’m not the only one.” For a minute you both sit there, smiling at each other like lovesick idiots. Shouta decides to break the little streak by taking your trash and disposing of it, then offering you a hand which you easily take. You take off back toward the rink, and Shouta offers to take you home since he’d driven there. Being as physically tired as you are, you accept. His car is exactly as he’d described, an older model, but he’s kept it well. It’s clean inside, and there’s an air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror that smells of linen and clean laundry. It’s a short drive, less than five minutes, and he insists on walking you to your door.

“So I guess this is good night?” You hate that tonight has to end. You want to stay in his orbit forever, want to stare into his eyes until you drown in them. He hums, reaching to grab your hands from where he stands one step below you. Heat flares over your skin when he brings your hands to his mouth and presses sweet kisses to your knuckles.

“I’m sure I could find a way to stay a little longer. I don’t have a patrol tonight, so I’ve got nowhere better to be.” It’s all too easy to lean in close, close enough that you can lie your forehead on his and breathe in each other’s air. 

“Shouta?” His eyes meet yours.

“Yes?” You bring your hands up to rest on his shoulders, toying with the scarf that sits on his neck.

“Can I kiss you?” Being so direct isn’t really your style, but you can’t take it anymore. A deep breath makes his chest heave, and his laugh is short and relieved.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” That’s all you need to hear, really, and your lips are on his. Hungry, insistent, you kiss him until you can’t breathe and then keep kissing him some more. He’s no different, large strong hands wrapping around your waist to keep you from separating. Your hands grip his scarf like a vice, using the material to tug him somehow closer. Your body temperature skyrockets, heat blooming through your limbs as your heart pounds heavy in your chest, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the heat when you’re finally kissing Shouta. This is heaven on earth. If you could, you’d kiss him forever. The moment doesn’t last long enough for you, but you both need to breathe, so you’re left holding each other and basking in the afterglow of your first real kiss. He’s the first to break the silence.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” You laugh at him then, at how close you were to saying something almost identical.

“Yeah? How long of a while, if I may ask?” 

“It’s a little embarrassing, but that first night I’d fallen asleep in the beanbag downstairs. I don’t know why but when you woke me up I got the sudden urge to kiss you. The rest is history.” Another laugh escapes you.

“I was going to say something about not knowing me very well, but that would make me a hypocrite.” His head tilts, a smirk pulling his mouth.

“And why is that?” Your face heats up, and you can’t look him in the eyes.

“That same night I got some very domestic thoughts of you sleeping in my bed.” His smile is bright and sweet, and he buries his head in your neck much like a cat would. You won’t say that out loud, though. Having to pull away from him annoys you, having to separate at a time like this is incredibly inconvenient, but you’ve got to unlock your door to invite him in. Though, you do keep one hand clasped firmly in his. It's a flurry of clothing as you strip down to your thinnest layers, the heat in the apartment making all your snow gear unbearably hot, and once again you’re inconvenienced by the fact that you want to get comfortable in some pajamas before dragging him to cuddle on the couch. He still had a pair of sweats he kept here so he’d changed as well. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.” He hums into your hair, holding you tight to his chest where you lay atop him. 

“So this is one of your domestic thoughts?” You can only nod into his chest. You don’t think he’d appreciate knowing there were a few very brief not-so-domestic thoughts. For now, you’re going to keep those to yourself.

“Shouta? Can I be honest with you?” One of his hands scratch up and down your clothed back as he hums and waits. 

“It feels like I’ve known you for years. We’ve been talking almost every day for just over a month but it feels like it’s been longer.”

“I know what you mean. Though the first night I’d come here was probably about five months ago, so we have technically known each other for nearly half a year.” The memory makes you smile. He’d been injured, sure, but it was your first interaction. Things tend to look better in hindsight.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Silence falls then, and you press your ear to his chest as you listen to his steady heartbeat. It’s solid, and strong, and his fingers on your back are lulling you to sleep. You can’t open your eyes for long, and what you do see is blurred by exhaustion. As much as you want to fight it just to stay awake with Shouta for a little longer, you can’t, and you slip right into a wonderful dream your brain can’t be bothered to remember.

[lil-tachyon]

Got any good resources for clothing drawing tips?

Okay so quick little introduction before I try to answer this question. First of all, sorry for letting this languish in the inbox for so long. I have a lot I want to say about this and I'd really like to make a proper "tutorial" but this week took a lot out of me so what you're going to get are some visual notes on graph paper and some rambling thoughts. Maybe down the line I'll try to flesh this out more into a proper guide, but for now it is what it is.

Second- for many different art concepts I can give you some really great recommended reading for self-teaching. There's a whole section of my website with links to things that helped me learn. Clothing is one of those things where I never found a book or tutorial that really "clicked" with me. It's one of the few areas of art where I feel like it's fair to say I'm genuinely self-taught. So what you're going to get here is very much my opinion, not undisputed common wisdom or whatever. Take it with a grain of salt. This is how I draw, not the "right way" to draw.

Third- drawing clothes is not something fundamental like perspective or rendering where there are actual hard-and-fast "rules" you can learn to guide you. It's not even like anatomy where there are approaches that have been worked out and passed down by artists over generations. I think about drawing clothing as a synthesis of several different skills- a little bit of anatomy, a little bit of perspective, a little bit of rendering. Honestly a smidge of graphic design. You're employing a "cloud" of your artistic skills towards a specific end. What this means is that the TLDR of this post is going to be "do what you would normally do to improve at drawing but apply it to clothing." So don't expect something life-changing, instead just open your mind to maybe trying some new things you hadn't thought of before. Also this is going to be more about drawing than painting, that is more about "lines" than "shapes" but the two skills overlap and the same concepts should be broadly applicable. But my examples are going to be drawings.

Okay intro out of the way. Clothes are mostly just tubes of fabric, fabric wants to fall down. The human body and sometimes wind and water and other fluids will stop this fabric from falling down all at once and instead give it a shape. Keep this in mind. It's helpful to know how clothes are actually constructed if you want to know how they will deform when falling across the figure. Where a garment is simply a length of fabric, it's very flexible. It can bunch together or be stretched taught. This is most noticeable at the parts of the body that open and shut like hinges- knees, elbows, and armpits. The behavior of garments at these areas of the body is highly dynamic.

At seams where different sections of fabric are stitched together, movement can be come more limited. Seams are usually imperfect- pieces of fabric of slightly different lengths might be stitched together or fabric may shrink over time around a thread causing it to pucker and wrinkle. For these reasons, seams often act as the originating areas for folds and wrinkles, even when a garment is not in a particularly flexed/active state.

In a two-dimensional image, it can be helpful to describe a garment in terms of silhouette and wrinkles/folds. The silhouette is the actual boundary of the garment, where the fabric comes to an end. The wrinkles/folds are where different parts of the garment pass in front of each other or where the fabric becomes bunched up to the point that light can't reach inside and occlusion shadows form. You should always keep the overall silhouette of the garment in mind to inform the bigger shapes you draw, but you will use wrinkles and folds to demonstrate how the garment twists and deforms. These are the basic tools in your arsenal. Keep it simple.

There are lots of different ways to approach wrinkles. My advice and my personal preference is to draw wrinkles as shapes and not just lines. Specifically, tapered shapes (like triangles) and be really good both for implying motion and the varying depth of a fold/wrinkle. Experiment with different shapes of varying angularity, fill texture, etc. Your hands and eyes will guide you towards what looks and feels good. There's no right way but I would advise you to exaggerate! Ask yourself- what's the biggest shape I can draw here? How can I twist it to make it bigger, crazier but still describe the form in a way that makes sense? It can be exhausting to just try to perfectly copy a reference and also using your imagination like this when doing studies will help build up your visual library for when you're drawing/designing clothing from imagination. In general I would advise you to focus more on drawing something that looks good (ie is composed of shapes that you find aesthetically pleasant) than is "correct."

Quick recap: Garments fall down, you can simplify an article of clothing into a silhouette described by folds and wrinkles. What next? Observe! Take notes! It is worth your time to think about how common articles of clothing are constructed. Jeans, t-shirts, dresses, etc. I used to do some hobbyist sewing and clothing alteration and I think that hands-on work with clothes has really affected the way I think about drawing them. You don't have to go that far but like- look at the world around you. Stuck on the bus, in school, in a meeting, etc? Even if you can't draw, look at how your pants bunch up around your legs, look at the sleeves of someone sitting next to you. I mean, don't be weird about it, but these are valuable observations. Think about how you would draw those things! Really getting good at drawing clothes involves studying them in the wild, understanding how they work, building up your visual library. Look at a faded denim jacket- at the puckered places where the indigo has rubbed away or the permanent creases that hardly see the light of day and remain a deeper blue. Look at petrochemical techwear outfits that break into jagged, high-sheen triangular wrinkles. Soak it all in!

Save pictures of and take notes on outfits you like, designers you like, garments you like. Keep track of these things. Come back and study them over time. Have fun with it! I have folders and folders and folders of images of clothes that I come back to constantly. Over time and with lots of study you'll learn what you want to draw when you draw clothes and that's half the battle. You'll have images of buttons, pockets, belts, laces, fabrics, seams, dancing around in your head that you can deploy at will. It's delightful.

Hope this helps! If anyone has more advice to add, please do! If this tutorial helped anyone, please show me your drawings! If you'd like more stuff like this from me, just send me an ask or an email and I'll answer it when I can.

Peace,

Logan