#I wish everything big wasn’t spoiled for me though

[groblinboy]

Ok finished red dead for real. Now time to be very normal about it

[luveline]

I was just rereading your marauders sex shop blurb. I love how the boys have just adopted reader into their group, and how open they are with their affection for her. You do such a wonderful job of writing intimacy that rides the line between platonic and romantic. And I love the readers inter monologue of wondering if that intimacy means something more romantic like she wishes. It’s wonderful! I was also wondering if there’s a blurb on how the boys met reader for the first time?

thank you so much, that’s so nice of you <3 there wasn’t one but I hope this is okay!! —Remus, Sirius and James move into their new flat. You’re helpful. fem, 1k

The stairwell is filled with the sounds of kissing. Remus frowns, heart beating quickly, arms aching under the weight of yet another box. He gets to the top of the stairs and peeks around the box’s sides. 

Sitting on the step of their new doorway is James. And, sitting on top of James, stroking his cheek, is Sirius. His hair is falling all over the place and they’re kissing so much Remus assumes they’ll have bruised noses. They often turn their kisses into a fight, like one of them can win, though it never really ends that way. He wants to laugh as Sirius pushes James down for more kissing, and he sort of wants to watch regardless because they’re both good kissers and he’d quite like to be included, but mostly he needs the heavy box put away. 

“Someone please help me,” Remus says. 

James breaks away. Sirius squeezes his face and begins to kiss his neck. 

“Baby,” James says as he pushes him away, which is funny, unlike him and unlike Sirius to be called it, but also not actually unlike either of them when Remus really thinks about it. 

Sirius gives a last peck and pulls away. When he gets up to look at Remus properly he’s flushed all over from the activity, his neck and face turning red in splotches. 

Sirius and James have spent a lot of time spoiling Remus into love. He would’ve ended up there regardless, but he’s used to being the centre of attention. It was nice to see them kissing, and he wishes he didn’t interrupt quickly, but neither party seems to begrudge him. Sirius stands up and James is a second behind him, taking the heavy box from Remus’ arms before it can topple to the floor. 

“We’re on break,” James says with a grin. “Especially you.” 

“We have to take the van back tonight, in case you forgot. There’s still half our stuff in there.” 

“If we have to pay their fine, it’s fine,” James says, shifting the box against his chest. “I’d much rather pay the extra day than have us all hurt ourselves. How will we ever test the big bed if poor Remus can’t move?” 

“Poor Remus,” Sirius says, taking Remus’ hand to play with his fingers. 

This is pretty much everything Remus has ever wanted. To get to keep his two best friends forever, to be in love, to live together in a new city with good food and better cinemas. And here, nobody knows them. Nobody to judge them or give them strange looks. They can just be together like they’ve always wanted to be. 

Remus leans down to put his face against Sirius’ chest, their hands still held, Sirius’ free arm wrapping around him loosely. 

“Tired?” Sirius asks. 

James reluctantly leaves for the kitchen to put down their heavy box. 

“No. We really need to empty the van.”

“We will.” Sirius drops his nose against Remus’ hair. “Cliche if I kiss you?” 

“I like cliches.” 

Sirius puts his lips to Remus temple. Barely a kiss, no movement nor sound, but Remus knows it counts. It’s about intention. 

“Would you like a rough one?” Sirius asks quietly. 

“Maybe later.” 

“Please, let me give you one,” he says. 

“And have you press me into the floor? I don’t think so.” 

Sirius tips Remus’ head up and presses a kiss to Remus’ Cupid’s bow in an act of lifting his face, and then presses an equally gentle kiss to his lips. All this kissing… 

“I’m so happy we’ve moved,” Remus admits. 

Sirius squeezes his fingers, pulling away to meet charmed eyes. “All we need to do is find James a new team, and it’s perfect. Everything, finally.” 

“Hello?” someone calls. 

Sirius and Remus keep their hands held and shuffle across the hall to look down at the square. The flat building is strange, big and with an interior that’s an exterior, and you stand on the grass with a smile. 

“Hi!” you say, hands on your hips. You’re dressed for the strange weather, jeans and a t-shirt and a zip-up hoodie, entirely non-assuming. “Are you guys moving in?” 

“We are!” Remus says back. “You live here?” 

“My friend, I came to make sure her cat was okay, she’s gone to Ibiza. Do you need help?” 

“Oh, no, we couldn’t ask you to!” Remus says. 

“Sure you can!” 

You smile, and Remus thinks you look really lovely when you smile, it changes everything about your face. He feels guilty for the thought quickly, but it’s not as though being in a relationship means he can’t tell when girls are pretty. 

“Are you busy?” Sirius asks. 

You grin and make for the metal stairs up to the flat. 

Remus peeks at him in surprise, then suspicion, but Sirius only smiles at him. “We’re making friends already,” Sirius says, giving him a nudge. “That’s what we wanted.” 

James returns, having taken off his hoodie, a brown t-shirt loose on his frame. His own, then, because he insists on stealing from everybody’s wardrobes and stretching out their clothes. 

“Why are you guys shouting?” 

“Nice girl’s gonna come help us move.” 

James raises his eyebrows. 

‘Nice girl’ makes her way up the stairs. You’re still grinning when you get to the top, unperturbed by the appearance of another boy. “Hi,” you say, holding out your hand for an introduction. “I’m Y/N.” 

It’s the start of a long road. Remus shakes your hand and gets the sort of butterflies he’s terrified of now, though eventually Sirius and James will admit to the exact same thing, and no one will know what to do about it.

[lowkeyremi]

Levi didn’t realize just how messy kids could be until he had one of his own. The man is all about cleanliness and his cleaning routines, so imagine his surprise when he walks in on his two year old daughter finger painting on the wall. Not only is it on the wall but it’s all over the carpet, her mouth, her clothes, everything.

“Princess, what are you- is that- where’s mama?” The two year old in question looks up to meet her father’s loving eyes. (That only you and her see)

“Mama?” She asks sticking a painted finger into her mouth. Levi’s quick reflexes kick in from past war experience, and he grabs her chubby hand, lightly.

“Yes, mama. Where is she? She should be watching you- how’d you get paint princess?” He’s so confused, his beautiful white walls, which he painted himself when building your house, are stained with little circles that have legs, arms, and a big smile. Alongside the “people” there were other little doodles on the wall.

“Papa not like art?” The two year old’s eyes start to gloss over with tears and he panics, “I do like it princess… I just wish it wasn’t on the wall…”

“Oh. Um, mama napping. I suppose to napping.” That clears up everything. You’ve told your husband of the mischievous things you’ve done as a little girl so it’s no surprise that your daughter would have the urge to do some things that were less than okay.

“And why aren’t you napping?” He already knows the answer, he just needs to hear her say it.

“I not tired, Papa. Mama said paint after nap.” He sighs awkwardly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and then it’s nap time, understand?” She whines and stomps her little foot, he blames you, you spoil her way too much.

Levi gives his daughter a stern look and she immediately stops her tantrum.

“Okayyyyyy.” Levi finds it funny that she thinks her pout will make him reconsider.

Kids are messy, and Levi must come to terms with it, even though he’s not used to it.

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

[lottiies]

TIARAS AND TEACUPS

→ just some fluffy drabbles and headcanons on leon being a girl dad

NOTE: listen i don’t even want kids in the future but for this man?? if he was real and mine then trust i would change my mind real quick ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

this is pretty short, less than 1k words hehe

i.

Leon would never hear the end of it from his coworkers if they saw him like this. There was a plastic tiara with fake pink jewels resting atop his hair. He was sitting criss cross applesauce, for he was a little too big to sit on the tiny chairs his daughter had placed her plushies on.

“Daddy, here’s your cup!” She chimed happily, placing a small toy teacup right in front of him.

“Thank you princess, it’s a pretty set.” His hand could easily cover the entire cup, but to be graceful, he held the handle with his thumb and forefinger. “What’s on the menu?”

“Brownies and…and cookies.” She had a small container of them, having gotten some from the batch you baked the other night. “I’m gonna go get mommy, make sure Mrs. Teddy doesn’t drop her tea!”

Leon looked so out of place, but he was happy, watching with a smile as his daughter ran out of the room to go get you. And surely enough, you joined the tea party a couple minutes later, a matching headpiece on your head and your daughter giggling as she tugged you by the hand and took you to where she wanted you to sit.

You couldn’t help but stifle back a laugh when you saw Leon, and he seemed to catch on, grinning at you. “Look who’s late.”

“Fashionably late.” You corrected him as you pointed at your crown, taking a seat on the floor.

“Yay all my guests are here! I’ll hand out the food but don’t eat without me, okay?”

Leon was always emotional when he was in the same room as the two people he treasured the most.

He could still remember when his daughter was just a newborn baby. He almost broke down that day as soon as he heard her first cries, he never thought he’d get the blessing of parenthood.

ii.

If there’s one thing about Leon as a dad, it’s that he really has no backbone when it comes to his adorable daughter. Lecturing wasn’t his strong suit, he just wanted to spoil her. Thankfully, she didn’t have a knack for finding trouble so he didn’t have to worry all that much.

Here Leon was opening the letter he had gotten from his daughter’s elementary school, skimming through it only to see all the positive commentary the homeroom teacher had left. He was a proud father, and he took her on a trip to the store so she could pick out something nice.

“Don’t worry your little head about the price, okay? You deserve something special, you’re doing so well at school.” He gave her head a gentle pat, staying close behind her energetic form as she scanned the aisle for toys.

Toys. Great. Leon was sure he would sob when his little girl started asking for electronics and cosmetics. God, how he wished these years didn’t fly by so quickly. He had to make the most of them.

“Anything? Even a scooter?”

“Uh huh, even a scooter. Want one?”

“Yeah they’re awesome! Can we go look at them? I wanted to ask for one last Christmas but it was really cold so I wouldn’t have even been able to play outside much to use it. But it’s almost summer now so it would be nice and…”

She continued rambling on and on while Leon smiled happily. He held her hand and walked her over to where the scooters and bikes were.

Though he was a little concerned. What if she fell one day and scraped her knee? Or what if she hit her ankle with the scooter? Worst pain ever. Either way, he’d have to buy her a helmet and some knee pads.

Being a dad was kinda stressful.

iii.

Leon would try to be there for major milestones as much as possible. Yeah, sometimes he couldn’t be there because of the spontaneity of his demanding job, but he made sure to make everything worthwhile when he was present.

Whenever her birthday came up, he’d let Sherry babysit her for a few hours so she wouldn’t be at the house while you and him were decorating the place.

“Our little girl is growing up so fast. She’s already wanting to sit in the passenger seat, can you believe that?”

“You big ol’ softie.” You laughed a bit at his sulking, but you felt the same way, going over to hug him and comfort him. He held your hips, nuzzling against the crook of you neck. He loved you so much, he’d know nothing about happiness without you.

“I think I finally understand what the adults in my life would say when I was younger.”

“And what’s that?”

“That when you’re a parent, your children don’t really get older in your eyes. Yeah she’s about to turn ten but…she’s still our baby girl. I feel like she’s still three.”

HEADCANONS

𐙚 Leon would definitely be the type to look up some tutorials on YouTube so he could learn how to do his daughter’s hair. Doesn’t matter if it’s straight, wavy, or really curly. He’ll get all the products and get as much practice as possible

𐙚 For bedtime stories he’d just make up child friendly versions of his missions. B.O.W’s would become dragons, he’d be some sort of knight, and the setting would be a magical forest instead of some isolated and creepy location. And of course there’d be a happily ever after. In a way, this also helps him cope with his experiences

𐙚 Even in a modern world where cards are used more than cash (much to his dismay), he carries around lots of quarters just in case his daughter wants to get something out of a sticker or candy vending machine

[redvexillum]

@whatswrongwithblue Thank you for the request! I tried my best to showcase really long "fuckening" LOL. I would like to dedicate this story to @safination for writing two Adam x Reader stories for me - I'm just super touched, oh my god, thank you!

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, p in v, tentacle s♡x, double penetrati♡n, marathon s♡x, oral s♡x, finger♡ng, an♡l, suspension, squirt♡ng, cunniling♡s, established relationship, soft alastor, alastor being a lil shit, rough s♡x, b♡ndage, ♡verstimulation

An invisible weight tugged down your eyelids, and your shoulders drooped as if bound by chains trying to drag you down. Your eyes burned, your lips felt dry, and your head began to spin. Even in Hell, exhaustion was inescapable. You glanced over at Alastor, who hummed softly as he cleared away the cup of Zestea with a snap of his fingers. 

You adjusted the soft, fuzzy towel wrapped around you, sitting on the bed with damp hair draped over your shoulders. Fresh from a warm bath Alastor had prepared, you’d hoped it would relax your body, but all you felt was the maddening sensation of a mind wide awake while your body remained fatigued. 

“Ugh, I can’t do it,” you whined, pressing your forehead against your knee and tapping it in frustration. “I’ve been trying to sleep for days, Alastor.” As you lifted your head, you caught his eyebrow arching at your childish display. 

The longer you went without sleep, the whinier you became, feeling reduced to a petulant child. You knew it wasn’t fair, but the frustration of your body resisting your mind’s wishes was beyond torment. 

“Darling,” Alastor began, his voice velvety smooth. 

“Ugh!” You cut him off by flopping back onto the bed, starfishing as the towel wrapped around you started to loosen. “This suuuucks!” you groaned, lightly kicking your heels against the bed in an attempt to release your growing frustration. 

“Darl-” 

“I don’t understand! I tried everything.” You rolled onto your stomach and shut your eyes tightly. “I was such a terrible insomniac back when I was alive, and now I have to deal with this for the rest of eternity?” 

“Dar-” 

“What kind of crappy hellhole is this? This seems petty, even for the big guy upstairs, don’t you think?” you continued, oblivious to your surroundings. 

“Darling!” Alastor finally raised his voice, and at that moment, tentacles erupted from the bed, grasping your limbs. 

Your arms and legs twisted at awkward angles as your body hovered over the bed. The towel slipped free, landing quietly on the bed and baring your form before Alastor. 

"Thirteen times," Alastor murmured, his voice dripping with unrestrained amusement, his crimson eyes glinting as they pinned you in place. His hands tucked neatly behind his back, he seemed perfectly composed, though the smirk curling at the edges of his mouth betrayed a darker intent. 

Confused, you blinked up at him—only to yelp as the cool, silken press of his shadow tendrils began to glide over your bare skin, teasingly slow. One snaked its way between the cleft of your ass, trailing with lazy patience, the tip wriggling just at your entrance, coaxing a sharp intake of breath from you as pleasure rippled up your spine. Every nerve felt alive, electric, your skin flushing under his unwavering gaze. 

"Thirteen times you’ve been acting like a spoiled child today, darling," Alastor’s voice was smooth, chiding, though his eyes were lit with something wicked, ravenous. 

Another shadowy tendril traced up your neck, its soft, almost squishy texture making your skin prickle. Then, with one swift movement, it pressed into your mouth, muffling any protest you might’ve made as it filled you. Another tendril wrapped its gentle, pulsing form around your heated skin as it circled down around your breasts, caressing and teasing. 

“Mhm…” You tried to respond, your voice muffled, a low hum of pleasure vibrating through you as the tendrils toyed with you. When the tendril in your mouth finally pulled back to let you gasp for air, another tendril plunged deep into your slick core, sliding in with one smooth, tantalizing stroke, filling you completely. A gasp escaped your lips, mingling with a moan as the feeling of fullness set every inch of you aflame, your body helplessly arching into his touch. 

“Thirteen times, I’ll help you,” Alastor drawled, his voice low and edged with dark delight. His eyes narrowed to glittering crescents as his grin grew, sharp and almost feral. "Relax," he whispered, his tone smooth as honey as the tendrils inside you began to move, slow and steady, drawing out every inch of pleasure. Each movement left you wanting, needing, as he drew out every moment, teasing you with that maddening slowness. 

Your body began to melt under his control, a soft moan spilling from you as your muscles, once taut with frustration, relaxed into his grip. “Does it feel good, darling?” Alastor’s voice dropped to a husky murmur, another shadow tendril swirling around one of your nipples, tightening into a small, deliciously snug loop that squeezed and teased. 

“Ah!” Your eyes fell shut, hips rocking as your chest arched forward, giving him everything to see, to touch. “Y-yes,” you gasped, your words coming out in soft, breathless sounds, the tendril inside you quickening, its movements slick, rhythmic, filling the air with soft, lewd sounds as it thrust deeper, harder. "Oh, Alastor, it’s… hah… oh," you panted, your voice breaking into needy little cries as he guided you to the edge, the tendrils driving you further and further until pleasure crashed over you in waves. 

Your stomach muscles quivered as your whole body tightened, a cry escaping as your walls clenched around the tendril inside, shuddering through every inch of you. 

"One," Alastor murmured, his grin never wavering, his gaze searing into you with that dark promise. 

In the hazy bliss of release, realization dawned, sending another thrill of anticipation through you—he intended to count each of your climaxes, to draw out every peak, never stopping until he reached thirteen. 

As you struggled to catch your breath, the tendrils began their slow, relentless dance once again. They curled against your still-sensitive walls, pressing and stretching you as warmth and pleasure bloomed anew. 

"F-fuck," you exhaled, as the shadow tendril that once entered your mouth slipped between your parted lips once more, moving slowly in and out, coaxing yet another trembling moan from deep within. 

Once more, that searing pleasure began to build, crashing into the remnants of your last release. It was a mere matter of minutes before another wave surged through you, and this time, the heat seemed endless, a delicious agony of pleasure that took over completely. 

With each wave, your mind grew hazier, lost in the raw, pulsing need that Alastor seemed to stoke with every touch. The world became a blur of pleasure, each second stretching, lingering. At one point, you found your head thrown back, legs stretched out and quivering, your body suspended just above the floor. Alastor’s mouth was buried between your thighs, his deep hums reverberating through you as his tongue explored every sensitive inch of your core, slow and pleasing, dragging out every moment. 

Drool escaped from the corner of your parted lips, trailing down your cheek as shadowy tendrils wrapped around you, coaxing your mouth open wider, sliding between your lips and wiggling against your tongue. Every inch of your body burned under his gaze, his presence radiating a heady power that made your pulse quicken.

“Mhm,” Alastor hummed in satisfaction, the dark glint in his eyes making your heart race. In the haze, you heard the metallic clink of his belt buckle loosening, followed by the sharp whisper of his zipper. His hot tongue continued to lap at you, his lips wrapping around your folds as he sucked your clit, firm and lingering, the touch like fire against your swollen, oversensitive skin. 

“MMPH,” you gasped, the sound muffled by the tendril holding your mouth open, but the helpless, desperate sound escaped all the same. Your eyes widened as his fingers began circling your tight entrance of your ass, the slick warmth of his touch teasing, coaxing as he eased one finger inside, withdrawing, then pressing deeper with each slow stroke. 

His tongue thrust deeper, finding every hidden spot, his finger pressing against that thin sensitive wall between your two entrances. The dual sensation was too much, the pressure building and consuming you, your walls clenching helplessly around his tongue as another wave crashed through you, leaving you breathless, your abdomen tightening with the force of release. 

Every lick, every draw of his lips against your clit left you trembling, lost in the sweet torture he inflicted with such calm, focused precision. Each stroke was perfectly timed, drawing out each moment, extending your pleasure as though he revelled in the sounds you made, the way your body arched and jolted beneath him. 

In the fog of pleasure, you heard him murmur, “Seven.” 

When you came to your senses again, you found yourself bent over, your body limp and pliant, the tendrils holding you aloft in midair as though you were a doll, utterly at his mercy. A bead of drool stretched from your parted lips, joined by tears of pleasure as your mouth let out soft, pleading moans. The two tendrils were thrusting into you now, each movement synchronized, the slick, wet sounds filling the air as they moved with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. 

Your gaze drifted up, finding Alastor seated at the edge of the bed, his hand wrapped around his own hardened length. He stroked himself as he watched you, a look of dark satisfaction glinting in his crimson eyes. 

It was only when one tendril hit that perfect spot within you, pressing firmly against your G-spot while the other filled your other tight entrance completely, that you finally broke, a scream tearing from you as the overstimulation shattered something deep within. The tendril at your lips pulled away, only to be replaced by something hotter, thicker, its weight heavy on your tongue, the taste of salt and musk filling your senses as Alastor’s cock pressed between your lips, sliding deep. 

A warm rush of arousal trickled down your thighs as your voice was muffled by his length, the taste and heft of him only heightening the fiery pleasure rippling through your body. Endless waves crashed over you, each movement of the tendril against your G-spot triggering new jolts of ecstasy that seemed boundless, unending, leaving you helpless to the pleasure he so expertly, mercilessly gave. 

Alastor groaned above you, his breath warm and rough as he slowly pushed his thick, heated cock in and out of your mouth, holding you steady, savouring every inch of movement. His pace was unhurried, each slow thrust teasing, almost torturous, as his gaze locked onto yours, intense and devouring. Your arousal dripped down your thighs, tracing warm, wet trails along your skin, each drop pooling and slipping from the tips of your toes. 

“Twelve, darling,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, edged with delight. “Let’s make the last one count.” 

The world around you swirled as he lowered you back onto the bed, your body sinking into its soft warmth. Breath ragged, eyes misted, you lay sprawled out, hips trembling from the relentless pleasure that still pulsed through you. Your skin felt hot, nerves buzzing, and each lingering touch of his fingers traced over your sensitized flesh like fire. 

Your eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion, every inch of your body both sated and aching. Alastor moved above you, the rough fabric of his suit brushing against your sensitive skin, heightening every touch. His face hovered just inches from yours, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips as he let the length of his cock trail along your soaked folds, the friction sending sparks of pleasure that left you breathless. 

“This one’s mostly for me,” he murmured, a wicked grin spreading as he gently brushed damp strands of hair from your forehead, his fingers warm against your skin. 

Your body arched in response, anticipation building as his thick cock finally pressed against you, the heat of him molten as he slowly entered, stretching you inch by inch. Your breath hitched, a hoarse, needy sound escaping as he filled you, the sensation overwhelming. He didn’t stop until he was buried to the hilt, his belt buckle pressing sharply against your heated skin, a rough contrast that only heightened the feeling of fullness. 

Every muscle in your body clenched as waves of pleasure rippled outward, your nerves raw and hypersensitive, ready for another release that you could feel building within. Your lips parted, words caught in your throat as a helpless whimper slipped out, each slight twitch in response to his touch making you tremble. 

With one hand, he held the top of your head, his fingers threading into your hair as he grinned, dark eyes gleaming. Alastor drew back slowly, then snapped his hips forward, and your back arched as your breasts bounced, his rough pace jolting your body with each thrust, his grip on your head keeping you steady as his cock found every sensitive spot within. 

“Al—” you gasped, voice breaking, your eyes rolling back, lids heavy with exhaustion and pleasure, each blink longer as your mind swam in the intensity. 

He drew back and drove forward again, hips pressing hard against you, each impact a sinful contrast against the throbbing heat of your body. The sensation was overwhelming, each strike pressing into your sensitive clit, bringing you higher. His grunts mingled with your soft moans, and the rhythmic creaking of the bed was all you could hear, each movement pushing you to the edge, again and again. 

The relentless rhythm sent you deeper into bliss, every thrust pressing you into the mattress, each slick sound growing louder as he moved faster, harder. His cock rubbed against your inner walls, hitting all your sensitive spots, while the front of his pelvis struck your swollen clit with every thrust, sending a sharp, electrifying pleasure through you. 

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, pleasure breaking over you in a blinding rush, your body writhing as the release washed through you. Darkness tinged the edges of your vision, and you cried out, guttural and raw, as another flood of arousal spilled from you, leaving you trembling, body spent in the aftermath of pure ecstasy. 

You couldn’t open your eyes, let alone move your body. A dull heaviness clung to you, making every part of you feel like lead. Vaguely, you felt a twitch in your leg, a reminder of the overwhelming sensation that had consumed you earlier, leaving you utterly exposed. Your body lay wide open, but at that moment, you felt a delicious thrill rather than shame, too intoxicated by the aftershocks of pleasure to care. Gradually, the world around you faded into a blissful oblivion, and you drifted into unconsciousness. 

When you finally woke up, the first sensation was the softness of the sheets against your skin. You blinked blearily, realizing you were curled up in your pyjamas, holding on to your pillow. Every muscle ached, a pleasant reminder of the night’s indulgence, but your mind felt clearer now. As you looked around, confusion settled in; you were alone in the vast expanse of Alastor’s bed, surrounded by the lingering scent of him.

Holding the pillow tightly to your chest, a cold wash of loneliness hit you, heavy and suffocating. How could he have fucked you into unconsciousness and just left? The least he could do was stay, to wrap his arms around you and share the warmth after such an intense experience. A sigh escaped your lips, a mix of frustration and yearning. Perhaps he had cuddled you while you were lost in sleep, but the emptiness in the bed felt cold, and you craved his presence. 

Contemplating, you tried to settle back down, hoping to find solace in sleep again, but the silence of the room felt stifling. With a huff of irritation, you realized you were back at square one—restless and alone. Sitting up, you pulled the pillow against your chest, desperate for a sense of comfort. 

A sudden spark of determination flickered within you, and you decided to check the Radio Tower. It was his usual point of interest, and you hoped he might still be there. Climbing the stairs, excitement bubbled in your chest. Peering through the door window, you caught sight of Alastor’s back, his smooth voice floating through the air like music, wrapping around you and bringing an involuntary smile to your lips. 

Perhaps you could wait for him to finish his business, and then the two of you could go for a stroll. Settling onto the weathered couch, you tucked your knees in and hugged the pillow tighter. Resting your head back, you closed your eyes, focusing on the sound of his voice. 

“One might say they were quite bone dry by the time they left Cannibal Town, hahaha,” Alastor laughed, his transatlantic accent rolling over you like a warm caress. 

You couldn’t help but snort at his silly word play, the sound bubbling up despite the heaviness in your heart. You leaned into his words, letting them wash over you, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth and familiarity. As he continued to speak, you felt yourself begin to relax, the tension in your body melting away. 

But before you knew it, his voice began to fade, the room darkening around you, pulling you into its depths. The warmth of the couch enveloped you, and soon, your consciousness slowly slipped away once more, leaving behind a lingering ache for his presence. 

Alastor let out a soft sigh, brushing off invisible dust from his arm as he stepped outside, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He felt a swell of happiness, not only because he had pleased his darling, but also because he had managed to broadcast his show right on time. Yet, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, they caught sight of you curled up on the couch, fast asleep. 

A flicker of concern crossed his face, his brows knitting together as he wondered why you were sleeping in such an uncomfortable spot instead of the cozy bed he had prepared for you. He opened his mouth, ready to chastise you for choosing the couch over the warmth of your own bedding, but as he got closer, his breath hitched. The soft, gentle expression on your face silenced him. 

Alastor paused, his hand hovering just above your shoulder, a mix of irritation and affection coursing through him. Should he really wake you? But before he could make up his mind, a smirk tugged at his lips, and with a snap of his fingers, a plush blanket materialized, draping softly over your body. He couldn’t help but soften the jagged edge of his smile when he heard the lovely sigh that escaped your lips as you instinctively snuggled deeper into the pillow, blissfully unaware of his presence. 

He stood there, captivated, his eyes locked onto your serene face. A warmth spread through his chest as he observed you, unblinking and utterly entranced. The urge to simply leave and let you rest was his first thought, but instead, his fingers betrayed him. They reached out, tracing the strands of your hair, lifting a lock gently before placing a tender kiss upon it. His heart swelled as he watched you, his typically sharp demeanour softening in the glow of your innocence. 

But then, as if splashed with icy water, reality struck. He quickly dropped your hair as if it had burned him, a flicker of panic dancing in his eyes. He darted a furtive glance around, ensuring no one had witnessed this moment of vulnerability. Alastor, the ever-composed radio demon, was suddenly aware of how uncharacteristic his actions had been. 

The sensible thing would be to let you sleep, especially after the struggles you had faced throughout the week. Yet, against his better judgment, he summoned a chair next to you, settling down with a resigned huff. 

As he waited, a swirl of emotions churned inside him—anticipation, affection, and a strange sense of longing. He found himself drawn to the idea of spending the rest of eternity by your side, watching you awaken to a world painted in shades of endless amusement, delight, and his presence. 

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[goodlucktai]

Are you still taking prompts? If so, could I ask for some rise!Raph and Mikey? Their brotherly relationship really intrigues me and I wish we could have seen more of it develop in the show, and I just know you would do it justice :D thanks

set pre-movie, canon divergence, in which i simply toss mikey at a problem to fix it

read on ao3

x

This same time last year, Mikey couldn’t wait to grow up. 

Because sometimes—only sometimes—he felt like he had something he needed to prove. 

It’s not that his family doesn’t believe in him. If anything, he thinks, from the lofty heights and newly acquired maturity of fourteen years old, they believe in him a little too much. Whatever he says he can accomplish, they give him room for—and if he can’t pull it off, they help him out and still afford him full credit. Mikey knows it’s just another way they spoil him, but it’s the least egregious manner in which they do, so he lets it slide. 

And it’s definitely not that he ever feels left out or left behind. Michelangelo and his brothers operate on a fulcrum that turns four ways as naturally as the needle on a compass, guided by gravity and the poles of the planet and something even more intrinsic and fundamental than all of that. 

Even when they’re fighting, when Mikey can’t be in the same room as Donnie without the Cain Instinct taking over or Leo goes full Mean Girls and has the cattiest-sounding Facetime with April about whichever one of them ticked him off, purposefully taking his call in the living room where they all could hear it, none of that ever lasts longer than a day. They burn bright and loud and hot, but they burn fast. Gravity keeps everything together. 

Come on, gravity, Mikey thinks, holding onto his temper very carefully. Do your thing. 

“I am not,” he says, for the billionth time in his life, “a baby.”

Raph looks a little nervous, which almost makes Mikey feel bad. But then he says, “That ankle’s sprained, big man. You shouldn’t walk on it.”

“Leo wrapped it up super well! I’ll be careful!” 

Their resident medic is smiling a little to himself, packing everything up again to his own meticulous organizational standards. (Only Donnie truly has his system figured out, but Mikey thinks that’s because they share a brain or soul or whatever.) It’s the full kit, too, Leo didn’t bother with the emergency supplies in his belt-bag and instead opened up a little dinner-plate-sized portal that he reached through to ransack their infirmary back home. 

Mikey wants to roll around on his shell in annoyance. It wasn’t even that bad!

“Sprains can be worse than breaks sometimes,” Leo remarks neutrally, as if he’s commenting on the weather. “Would you rather be careful now or laid up for a couple extra weeks?”

Raph seems grateful for the input, even though he doesn’t look at Leo and Leo doesn’t look up from his kit.

Ugh. “Ugh!” Mikey says out loud for good measure. “Then I can just walk on my hands!” 

It summons a wider smile from Leonardo, one of those crooked, pleasantly surprised ones. He’s so clever and thinks in circles around everyone else—not to be mean or tricky, just because his brain is as fast as Donnie’s and eats up seconds like a racecar around a Formula 1 track—that it’s fun to catch him off-guard with something totally out-of-pocket and watch that smile show up. 

“The whole way back to the Tank?” Raph says skeptically.

“You bet!” Mikey has warmed up to the idea now.

“This I have to see,” Donnie says, putting his phone away and folding his arms on Leo’s carapace. 

“I’ll have you know, Donald, that I walked on my hands for like two days once.” 

“Believe me, Michael, I remember. I was there.”

“You tried to make spaghetti for dinner with your feet,” Leo pipes up, and giggles when Donnie makes a gagging noise above him. He’s done packing his stuff up but he’s still sitting, probably because he likes the weight of his lazy twin leaning against his shell. 

Sensing no further help from that quarter, Raph says, “Mike—” but Mikey has already capitalized on his moment of indecision and flipped forward into a handstand. His foot actually does hurt a lot and his center of balance is a tiny bit skewed, but honestly he could do this for hours. He books it for the edge of the roof, putting something like a skip into his step just to make the twins laugh. There’s a shuffle and a cut-off noise that means the big worry-wart didn’t like it but puh-lease. Mikey’s safe as houses. 

It’s when he clambers up onto the parapet that he remembers the fire escape on this building is the kind with the rolling ladders, not the stairs. 

No one says anything behind him, letting him come to his own conclusion. Mikey would appreciate that except they’re only doing it because he’s the baby and they don’t want to upset him. 

Spinning around, the concrete scraping against his palms, Mikey aims an explosively unhappy frown at all three of them from upside-down.

“I could have done it,” he insists. 

“Of course you could have,” Raph is the first to say. “There’s not a doubt in my mind you could have walked to the moon on your hands if you wanted to. But you don’t have to walk while you’re hurt when Raph is here to carry you.”

He’s so earnest and sweet. It goes a long way in making Mikey forget why he was even annoyed to begin with. His brothers are lucky they’re so loveable! 

With a groan he tucks his head and shoulders and rolls forward, shell bumping playfully against the edge of the parapet, and comes right-side-up sitting criss-cross-applesauce.

“Fine,” he capitulates. “But only because Raphie thinks I could hand-walk to the moon.”

“And back,” Raph says, smiling down at him. Mikey lifts his arms to be scooped up and settled in his usual spot on Raph’s shoulder. 

If this was a year ago, Leo would have been right next to him, perched on Raph’s opposite shoulder and making silly jokes to make Mikey feel better. Leo loves to be carried. It was the one little brother thing his cool guy persona could never eclipse. The one thing Mikey was certain he wouldn’t outgrow no matter how old he got.

But instead of crossing the roof at a run to leap into Raph’s arms, always trusting the process, knowing they would open in time to catch him, Leo stays put. Maybe because Donnie is still resting his weight on him. But his expression is so transparently wistful and lonely for a split-second, even though his brothers are all right there, that it causes a pang of upset in Mikey’s heart. 

“Hey, Lee, room for one more,” he says, patting Raphie’s shoulder. 

Raph scoffs under his breath, which makes Mikey’s stomach do a surprised, uncomfy flip. Leo hears it, and his expression shutters so fast it’s almost unnatural, everything replaced by a wide, plastic smile. 

“Gotta get my steps in, Miguel,” he says, shoving his kit back through a portal and wiggling his shoulders so Donnie knows he’s about to stand up. “This figure doesn’t come free, you know.” 

He adds an imaginary hair-toss. Raph looks like he didn’t expect anything else. Mikey thinks he must not have seen that expression on Leo’s face. 

But it’s all Mikey can think about the entire drive home. That gulf between fourteen and fifteen where apparently everything changes. 

——

Something has been wrong for awhile now, ever since Pops made Leo the leader and turned their team inside out, but Mikey figured they were due for an adjustment period. Raph had a hard time letting go of responsibility and Leo had a hard time picking it up, but once they found their way back onto the same page everything would be okay. Gravity would keep them together. They didn’t know any other way to be. 

Except it’s been weeks and the arguing is only getting worse and it’s not even really that much fun to patrol anymore in the first place. Mikey usually loves going out at night with his brothers, finding bad guys to beat up and getting those ninja endorphins, but he’s sort of starting to feel about it the way kids in daytime television feel about homework. He just wants to get it over with.  

Tonight Leo is being a little silly. Flubbing jumps and slow to catch his cues. Once he even missed a sixteenth-story ledge and would have fallen—which was not funny at all and a bad joke to make—but Donnie’s arm shot out and caught him so smoothly that it had to have been planned. Like a trust fall! Or maybe twin telepathy actually is a thing and Donnie was just tricking them with all those printouts he handed around that one time to prove Leo wrong. Either way, Leo wasn’t actually in danger. 

Mikey loves silly Leo, and played right along into his antics, but maybe he shouldn’t have. Raph was ticked off and, by the time Leo missed that ledge, fed-up. He cut the evening short and told Leo to just portal them home. 

That’s when the wary little thing in the back of Mikey’s brain pokes its head up out of the ground. That’s when he realizes something was Wrong wrong. Capital wrong. 

Because Leo says, “Your wish is my command, my liege,” with the right amount of theater kid gusto, and that’s normal. He summons a pretty spinning blue portal as tall as Raph stood at the shoulder and hops through first, leaving Raph to make a hissing noise against his teeth and duck his head to follow, and that’s normal. Mikey glances over at Donnie, who doesn’t look up from where his snout is buried in his phone to wave Mikey ahead of him, and that’s normal, too.

It’s easy to take for granted how amazing Leo’s portals are. With two steps, Mikey walks off a cool rooftop in Brooklyn and into their warmly lit living room. He can hear Pops’ telenovelas from the projector room and smell the beef burgundy he’d left to simmer on the stove for dinner. 

And distracted as he is, listening to the familiar rising and falling cadence of Raph’s worn-out lecture about responsibility and watching the pretend-listening bob of Leo’s head, Mikey still sees it when the portal wobbles as Don steps through. 

Maybe it wouldn’t have seemed like a big deal, except Leo’s face goes white and his whole body stills, and the coloring of his stripes starts to tinge toward neon like his ninpo is about to light up. 

And that’s not normal at all. 

It was just a split-second of destabilization, and Donnie moves through it just fine, but Leo holds his breath and keeps the portal open until his twin is right beside him. 

“This is literally what I’m talking about,” Raph says, that worried wrinkle in his brow deeper than ever. “Leo please listen when I talk just this once. If you’re not paying attention someone could get hurt. What if the portal just then had—”

“Woah, did you hear that?” Leo says right over him, cupping a hand at the side of his head as if to listen for something. “There’s another super riveting lecture about everything I do wrong happening in my room. I’m gonna catch that one instead. Thanks for this, though.”

He slips away as easily as if he was part eel instead of turtle and books it out of the living room in a way that manages to look like a casual saunter instead of the full-steam retreat it actually is. 

Raph looks stunned at the blatant dismissal, and then hurt, and then it all boils together into something furious. He’s never actually angry with them. It’s just that he cares so, so much and sometimes he has nowhere to put it. Sometimes it becomes something too big for him to hold. 

Right in that moment, he seems ready to grab Leo and rattle him until he ran out of nonsense and had no choice but to listen. 

“I’ll handle this one, Raphala,” Donnie says abruptly. “I’m the one who almost got spliced, so I’m the one who gets to have the first opinion about it.”

Since the twins’ whole schtick is getting each other into and out of trouble with very little regard for anything else, Raph looks reasonably skeptical of him ‘handling’ it. But Don is already following Leo out of the room, and the potential of another argument is removed neatly by his exit. 

Raph deflates a little bit. He’s the biggest strongest person Mikey knows, but suddenly he looks small. 

“Hey, Raphie, wanna help me dish up dinner?” Mikey says, smiling up at him. Anxious to banish that uncharacteristic smallness with the full force of his own personality if that’s what it takes. “You take dad his plate and I’ll wrangle Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Lee.”

Raph smiles back at him, at least, and carefully carries two big servings of stew served over garlic mashed potatoes to the projector room. Pops will probably rope him into watching his shows and maybe Raph will actually take a minute to relax when it’s just him and dad and hearty comfort food and bad TV. 

Mikey ladles up two more bowls and takes a couple of individually-wrapped Gansito snack cakes out of his stash for good measure. It’s a sweet treat kind of night, he thinks. He’ll have to remember to get one for Raphie, too. 

Leo’s room is empty, and so is Donnie’s. Since Mikey doesn’t know where any of Leo’s secret hiding places are in their new lair, he only hesitates for a second before checking the lab. 

Oh, Mikey thinks, holding the tray in numb hands. Something is Wrong. 

The twins are both on the sofa that got shoved into the corner of the room as a compromise to Don’s occasional all-nighters, turtle-piled under a weighted blanket. Leo’s wearing noise-canceling headphones, using Don’s leathery carapace as a pillow. His mask is dangling from one sleep-loose hand, so the big dark circles under his eyes stand out on his pale face. 

Donnie’s still awake, tapping away on his phone. He doesn’t look up at the doorway that Mikey is standing in, but he does use one hand to sign a subtle, silent “no.” No talking? No company? Probably both. 

Swallowing hard, Mikey lifts the tray he’s holding up a little higher. That does get Don to look at him, and his second-oldest brother softens at whatever Mikey’s face must look like. He nods toward the desk, and signs, “Thanks, M. We’ll eat before it gets cold.” 

The only thing Mikey wants in the entire world at this moment is to crawl onto the sofa with them. He would probably get away with it, he doesn’t think there’s ever been a time in his entire life he wasn’t truly welcome in a turtle pile. But Donnie said no. And Leo looks so tired. 

He puts the tray on the desk, ninja-quiet, and leaves again without a whisper. 

His phone chimes in his pocket once he’s out the door, and he pulls it out to find a text from Don that says He’ll be okay, Angelo. He just needs to get some sleep. 

Leo’s relationship with sleep has always been hot-and-cold. Usually he’s pretty honest about it when it gets bad, in the sense that he lets them see how exhausted he is instead of hiding it behind a goofy, cocky exterior. 

Remembering that missed ledge from earlier tonight causes ice to form in Mikey’s stomach. That wasn’t a trust fall at all, was it?

Biting his lip, Mikey sends back, Would a visit from Dr. Feelings help?

The typing dots appear, but only for a second. The reply comes swiftly: Not this time. 

——

That night Mikey tosses and turns for an hour before finally pulling a move he hasn’t in ages and slinking over to Raph’s room. He lingers uncertainly in the open door, because he doesn’t know how little you have to be to be allowed to crawl into Raphie’s nest and let him hug the world all better. Mikey had thought that was a forever thing, but he can’t get Leo’s face on the rooftop out of his head. 

Raph is still awake, playing on his Switch, and notices the shadow that passes in front of the doorway instantly. He sets his game down and lifts one arm in automatic welcome and Mikey crosses the room at a run and slams into the embrace as if it’s an offer that might expire. 

And it might. Mikey had never really thought it would before. 

“Hey, big man,” Raph says, his voice a comforting rumble that rights all wrongs. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Mikey nods, and picks at a loose thread in the pink comforter, and then says, “Will you still carry me when I’m fifteen?”

“What? Of course I will.”

“What about sixteen?”

“You’re never gonna be too big for Raph to carry, Mike. I’ll always be the biggest, big enough to haul you bozos around whether you like it or not.”

Some frightened little creature inside Mikey’s chest loosens the grip it has on his heart with its teeth. But it doesn’t fully let go. And Mikey can’t help but ask, “What if we argue a lot and stop being friends?”

The idea of not being friends with his brother is enough on its own to make him want to burst into tears. He has no idea how Leo isn’t just constantly bawling. Then he remembers the circles under Leo’s eyes that don’t show when he’s wearing his mask and the way Donnie always follows him out of the room now. And he thinks it’s silly of him to forget that pain shows itself differently from one person to the next. 

Hurt chases understanding across Raph’s expression, and he squeezes Mikey a little tighter to his plastron. 

“I’ll love you no matter what, Angie. You and Leo and Don are forever for me, okay? If the world ends tomorrow, I’ll still be somewhere, loving my little brothers. It’s too big to just disappear.”

Mikey is fourteen years old and too old to be coddled anymore but not too old that he doesn’t trust in Raphael with his entire heart and then some. If Raph believes Mikey could walk to the moon and back, Mikey believes his biggest brother could lift up the whole sky and hold it for as long as he wanted to, if he wanted to.

Laying there under the warm pink blanket, with Raph’s twinkling nightlight in the corner and the sound of dad’s TV down the hall, Mikey thinks about things that last forever, things you can never outgrow—inside jokes between siblings, skilled hands wrapping sprained ankles, a door standing open in the dark in case you couldn’t sleep. 

Then he thinks about those looks on Raph’s and Leo’s faces when they thought no one was watching. How lonely they’ve both been without their best friend on their team. 

“Can you do me a favor tomorrow?” he asks before he can think better of it. “Scoop Leo.”

“Mikey…” Raph sighs, not wanting to say what Mikey already knows he’s thinking. That Leo would hate it, that it would cause another argument, that he doesn’t want to fight first thing tomorrow morning. He doesn’t want to fight at all. 

“Don’t—don’t do it like you’re mad,” Mikey adds quickly, heart thumping. “Like you caught him sneaking out or you need to keep him in one place so dad can check his stitches but he keeps slipping away like a buttered noodle. Do it like—like you missed him. Pretend he’s been gone for a long time and he just got home. And you’re happy to see him.”

Once Leo went away with April to an overnight camp. It was a nerd camp, he’d said gleefully, bright eyes scanning the brochure, and there was a chess league! April’s mom was a volunteer organizer and promised Splinter that it was a relatively small, local event, and that Leo would be safe. 

It was the longest the brothers had ever been apart before. Even though they texted and video called near-constantly, by the end of the week it had felt like they’d misplaced a limb somewhere. When Leo finally swanned into the lair he had bags of souvenirs for all of them and a hundred stories to tell and the first thing he did was drop everything and run straight into Raph’s open arms. The way he always does. The first thing he always does. 

Raph is looking at Mikey in the semi-dark with unreadable eyes. It takes a minute, seconds crawling by so slowly Mikey starts to worry Raph will say no. He builds up all these new fears, a subdivision development springing up where problems will live in rows of cookie-cutter houses and pay outrageous mortgages and never truly go away again. 

But then Raphie says, “Alright, Ange. But you’re dealing with the fallout.”

He sounds very tired, and a little like he’s just humoring someone who doesn’t know better, but a win is a win. 

The next day, when Leo is the last to wander into the kitchen even though he was probably the first one awake, and does that thing where he manages to not look a single person in the eye while otherwise acting totally normal, Raph frowns at him. 

Mikey can tell it’s concern. He thinks Leo expects it to be something else, and manages to find whatever he’s looking for even if it’s not really there.

But then Raphael glances over at Mikey, and Mikey holds out his arms and mimes a big scoop. Setting his jaw as though he’s about to go head-to-head with the Shredder again, Raph scoots his chair back from the table, rounds it, and then lifts Leo clean off his feet. 

Leo’s eyes are huge and he squirms like a hooked fish, but then Raph says, all bright and charming, “Look what the goat-man dragged in! How’d you sleep, champ?”

“Fine,” the slider says cautiously, slowing his escape attempts, but still looking like he half-expects this to be a trap. When Raph hums and nothing else happens, some little piece of his guard goes down and he adds, “Good. Slept, um, right through my alarm actually. Was worried I was gonna miss Chef Miguel’s magic.”

“Yeah? If you’re still feeling tired after breakfast, you should catch another nap. You know Raph worries.”

They’re each braced for the other to hurt their feelings. But being inside Raph’s arms when he wants to hold you is the best place in the whole world to be. Nothing bad exists and nothing has the power to make you feel small or ugly or scared. It’s just you and this big guy who loves you, who loves to carry you. 

For the first time in weeks, Leo’s plastic smile wobbles and slips. He blinks and his eyes get wet and he reaches up to sling his arms around his big brother’s neck. The way to get inside Leo’s head, past all the anxieties, past that constant guard, is to hold him and sound happy to see him. He wants so badly to be wanted. Mikey can’t understand how someone as smart as Leo doesn’t know that he already is. 

“I know,” Leo chokes out, “I’m sorry.”

Raph couldn’t have looked more stunned if someone had taken this moment to dump a bucket of ice water on his head. But in true Raph fashion, his arms tighten around his little brother automatically, readjusting their hold so that Leo is more secure. The shape of it transforms from quick hug into steadfast embrace. 

Mikey’s biggest brother, who could hold up the whole sky, will stand there and hold Leo together until the heat death of the universe, or until Leo lets go. 

“Hey,” Raph says gently, “how about we hit the arcade later, just the two of us? We’re overdue a jam session and I’ll bet there’s a karaoke machine with our names on it.” 

“As long as you promise not to attempt Mariah Carey, I’m down for anything, big guy.” Because Leo would follow Raph anywhere, has followed Raph everywhere, and they both seem to be remembering that in real time. 

It really must have thrown Leo’s world out of orbit to be the one pushed out in front and expected to lead, with no prior warning or discussion. A jam session is exactly what the two of them need.

“I’ll make French toast for breakfast, but only if we can agree on toppings,” Mikey pipes up from the kitchen, as casually as if his whole heart isn’t a painful, hopeful thing lodged in his throat.

“Raspberry jam,” Leo muffles from somewhere between Raph’s shell and shoulder, “or I’m rioting.”

Raspberry jam and cream cheese stuffed French toast is Raphael’s well-known, all-time favorite breakfast food. Raph shouldn’t be surprised that Leo knows that, so the surprise must come from somewhere else. The last couple of weeks of stress and hurt and frustration go sliding off his spiky shell like water, all replaced by relief. The worry and confusion are still there, but those weigh practically nothing in comparison. He smacks a noisy kiss on the top of Leo’s head, grinning brightly when Leo whines and starts half-heartedly trying to noodle away. 

“What’d I tell you?” Donnie says, from his sleepy stake-out in front of the Keurig. “Dr. Feelings is a smart guy, but he doesn’t hold a candle to the smartest guy I know. A Mikey makes everything better.”

Mikey beams at him, the kitchen warm and full and lively, Raph and Leo squabbling playfully by the table, his morning playlist belting out something folky and upbeat, gravity pulling everything back to where it belongs.  

Fifteen doesn’t feel so scary anymore. But maybe Mikey’s okay with taking the long way there, after all. 

[1d1195]

Traditional III

I think this is a little bit of a slow start for this series, and I apologize for that, I'm still kinda setting up some background pieces. I got a few big plans ahead here. I hope you like it. You can find the first two parts here: Traditional

Warnings: slight 18+ topics mentioned (like you have to squint to see them)

“Do...you expect...more from me?” She asked quietly. She didn’t meet his gaze as she asked. Harry saw the way her cheeks turned pink as she spoke.

"I would love t’do more with you of course. But m’not an animal. M’not going to make you.”

“You kind of pay me to do that though,” she reminded him still not fully looking at him.

"M’not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to. I just want to spoil you.”

Harry was quietly but almost assuredly in love. There were hundreds of reasons not to be. First and foremost, she was his intern. Maybe not his directly...but at his company, nonetheless. There were so many issues with falling in love with someone that was subordinate to him. But here he was. The second reason was of course that he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with someone he was paying money to for the arrangement agreed upon.

But how could he not? She was the most adorable thing he had ever laid eyes on. She was so kind and intelligent. The way her nerves seemed to amplify while she was at dinner with him versus the confidence she exuded when she shook his hand was unbelievably cute. He thought of all the things to be nervous about, it would be working at his company. But apparently, spending the evening with someone who already wanted to be in her presence was the kind of thing to get someone so cutely riled up.

The second he heard her voice say Styles Incorporated he was done for. He wanted it to be her last name—he didn’t care about how ridiculous the sentiment was. Hearing her say his last name sounded so perfect in her voice he practically melted. The moment he saw her in person was like trying to balance himself on a tightrope. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let her go. But he was the boss of the company she was interning for, so he had to pretend he was just meeting her. Like he didn’t just scour her interest profile and all social media looking at her cute little being.

Hey beautiful. What are you up to today? Do you want to come over? I make really good Ramen.

Oh, I’d really like that! She answered almost instantly. Harry smiled excitedly at the prospect of seeing the sweet girl in a few minutes. But...I’m building my furniture with Louis and Eleanor :(

Harry frowned. He didn’t want her to build her cheap furniture. He didn’t want her buying cheap furniture. But he wasn’t going to make her return everything she already bought...and he wasn’t going to make her skip out on her friends...as much as he wanted her to. Oh. Don’t you mean you and Eleanor? He remembered what she said good naturedly about her best friend.

No literally, lol. Yes. Me and Eleanor, you’re right. She sent a laughing emoji and Harry wished he could hear her laugh out loud. He loved her light little giggle that he got to enjoy at dinner the other night. He didn’t get to see her today at work, but he wished he did. It was why he was asking her if she wanted to come over now.

While he was reminiscing about her, he missed the three little dots signaling her second reply. We were going to order pizza...if you like pineapple on your pizza you CAN’T come over but if you like GOOD pizza, then you can come and entertain Eleanor and I if you’d like.

He thought her humor was easily one of his favorite qualities about her. Have you tried it love? It’s not that bad.

Here I was, starting to like you...I’m not ordering it.

He chuckled at her response. I won’t make you...I’ll be there in fifteen?

I’ll see you then :)

Harry wasn’t really one to worry about what to wear, but suddenly he had no idea. What do you wear to help your employee, but also love interest, but also companion that he found off the internet to help build cheap furniture? He decided on a pair of dark jeans, a T-shirt, and some trainers he had lying by the door of his home. It occurred to him he was meeting her best friends and he thought that maybe he should have put in a bit more effort. It was only their second time together outside of work. Nonetheless, he was very excited and really looking forward to seeing her in her element.

*

“Louis,” she begged.

“I just want to ask him how many millions he’s worth. I don’t know why that’s an issue.”

She looked at Eleanor pleadingly. “Lou,” she said gently and then smiled kindly.

“Oh alright,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ll behave. But I won’t like it.”

At that moment, her phone signaled she had a visitor waiting in the lobby. She didn’t know if it would be pizza or Harry, so she headed down with her wallet just in case.

As she descended the staircase the one floor, she seemed to have an epiphany that she was wearing a pair of leggings and a t-shirt she would typically wear to the spin class she went to once a year with Eleanor. She realized she was entirely underdressed to see someone as beautiful as Harry. More so someone that she was employed by—in more than one way. She doesn’t know what possessed her to invite Harry over to meet her friends and build furniture. But she did know. She knew because she already liked him so much.

“Wow, thanks, mate,” the man was stuffing the money into his pocket as Harry held the three pizza boxes in his hands. She imagined Harry must have given him a substantial tip. In her head, Harry probably didn’t walk around with any bill smaller than a fifty.

“Oh, Harry. You didn’t have to do that,” she said quickly hurrying over to the pizza guy and Harry. The delivery guy was someone that she had run into several times over the last few years since she loved this pizza place.

“Oh, hey lady,” he smirked at her. “Your boyfriend said he would pay. Figured it wasn’t an issue,” he shrugged. Her cheeks pinked at the word boyfriend directed at Harry and she bit her lip waiting for Harry to answer instead. She waved gently to the man exiting with the large tip and he winked at her over his shoulder. He gave her a thumbs up and she swore she could see him mouth the word upgrade.

“Not a problem, love,” he responded with an easy smile. “Just happened here at the same time.”

With pizza in hand, she awkwardly made her way back to the stairwell trying to calm her nerves. Especially since Louis never had a filter. Harry was professional and lovely. He paid her in more than one way, and he was about to meet her crazy best friends. She worried she was about to lose both sources of income in a matter of minutes. “Y’okay, kitten?” He asked quietly as she approached her door.

“Mhmm...” she hummed. “Nervous.”

He chuckled. “Don’t be,” he said it easily. “M’excited t’meet your friends.” Swallowing, she nodded and pushed the door open.

“How much do we owe you?” Louis called from the living room.

“Um...Harry paid, so you’d have to ask him,” she still sounded nervous as she kicked her flipflops off at the door and made her way through the little entry way.

“S’all set,” Harry said easily. Obviously. It was pizza, and he didn’t mind in the slightest paying for the four of them. He set the pizzas on the counter in the kitchen and turned to her friends spread about empty cardboard boxes and plastic bags. Her couch was pushed against the wall facing the TV and the new stand it sat upon. She had music playing softly in the background that echoed through the room from the TV. Eleanor was focused on the directions in front of her while Louis twirled the little wrench in his hand.

“Thanks, Harry,” Louis said and stood to hold his hand out. “Nice t’meet you. Heard a lot about you,” he smirked.

“Hi Harry,” Eleanor chirped leaving the directions to flutter back to the floor and gave him a hug. “Thanks for coming to help. Louis gets us distracted a lot.”

“Entertained,” he corrected. Harry chuckled.

“Looks like you’ve made a lot of progress,” he noted that the coffee table was also completed in addition to the TV stand.

“Miss Impatient over there couldn’t wait,” Louis said. “El and I are on dresser duty.”

“Shh,” she hushed as she was still putting out paper plates and getting some napkins to put beside the pizza. “The coffee table and TV stand were like three parts total.”

Harry chuckled. “Didn’t take you as impatient, love,” he said softly in her direction.

She ignored his comment. “Can I get you a drink?” She asked as if the conversation around her wasn’t happening.

“Oh, she hides it very well,” Louis told Harry.

“She’s not impatient Louis,” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “She’s independent.”

“Terrible really,” Louis murmured causing Harry to chuckle.

“Water is fine, kitten,” he finally responded as if he wasn’t causing the racing of her heart just by being there.

*

Louis and Eleanor left after two bookshelves, the dresser, and the night table were put together. Louis claimed exhaustion because he was old despite Eleanor and her doing most of the heavy lifting. After a grateful goodbye, she ushered them out the door, Eleanor whispering to call her later in her ear.

In her eyes, it was really starting to look and feel like home. Harry was extremely helpful and wasn’t irritated at all by the lifting or the tedious labor of putting together cheap furniture. Harry was in fact pushing the bookshelves into position. “Y’should really anchor this down,” he told her.

“Er...I don’t want to mess up the walls. They charge you a fortune for that when you move out,” she explained. Harry smirked at her knowingly.

“I’d like t’see them try.”

She snorted and pushed her boxes labeled books toward the shelves. “Sorry, I forgot,” she said. “You’re very...down to earth.”

“Thank you, love. I try t’be.” Harry was reading the titles of the books as he put them on her shelves. He thought you could learn a lot about a person based on what they read. She seemed to read a bit of everything which made sense. She appeared worldly and intelligent. Her choices ranged from psychological non-fiction to romantic novels set at Christmas time. There were several historical fiction books as well. “You read a lot?” He asked.

“I used to...” she shrugged. “I get really caught up in my schoolwork. When I have time in the summer, I can read two to three books a week but that’s only when I’m not stressed about other things.”

“I see.”

“Do you read?”

“Uh...a little here and there...but not too often. I should read more. I get very busy with the company and everything,” he explained.

“I’ve been trying to read for thirty minutes every day since...well...since I was staying with Louis and Eleanor. I turn my phone off and set a timer on the microwave and everything. Louis hated waiting for it to be over so we could watch our shows and stuff.”

“S’nice you have Louis and Eleanor,” Harry remarked. “I don’t know what I’d do without Niall.”

“They’ve been the best people in my life for so long,” she said with so much kindness, so much reverence for them, Harry felt his heart stutter just as a bystander for her love for the pair.

“How did you meet them?”

“Louis was my older brother’s best friend. Since before grade school. They did everything together. He’s like my own brother...and Eleanor has been in his life since they were in high school, she’s like an older sister to me, too.”

“Oh, s’nice. I didn’t know you had a brother.”

There was a pause. If Harry wasn’t so enthralled by her, he might have missed how brief the pause really was. But he watched her swallow as she broke the cardboard box down and set it to the side as she slid the next one in front of her to start placing more books on the shelf. Her eyebrows pinched together just slightly. “He died when I was in high school,” she murmured. “Louis and Eleanor haven’t left me alone since.”

Harry thought of his older sister Gemma. The thought of her dying was enough to break his heart. He was overcome with grief for the poor girl who just casually went on organizing her books. Harry wasn’t sure how she could remain upright. How she could continue living. Gemma was one of his best friends. The way she spoke about Louis and Eleanor with so much admiration...he could only imagine how much love she had for her biological brother. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “M’so sorry, love,” he said quietly.

She nodded, swallowed hard again. She didn’t speak for a few minutes. Harry just let her put her books on the shelf and he silently watched her as it was clear the grief while manageable probably hurt a lot at times like this. Her eyes glistened a bit and she shook her head. “You have a sister, you said?” She asked eventually.

“Yeah, she’s older than me, too. Her name’s Gemma.”

She nodded. “You should call her and tell her you love her,” she said quietly. “Often,” she mumbled.

Harry thought he would cry. “I will,” he promised.

They were quiet for a bit of time until all the books were neatly displayed. She stood up and cracked her neck side to side and put her hands on her hips. “Thank you,” she said finally. He shook his head.

“Not a problem, love.”

He was looking at her like she might break down crying. “Can I ask you something?” She wondered.

“Of course.”

“Do...you expect...more from me?” She asked quietly. She didn’t meet his gaze as she asked. Harry saw the way her cheeks turned pink as she spoke. The change in subject seemed so rapid but Harry didn’t know much about the grief she was feeling. It may have been over five years since it happened, but he imagined that coping with it was something that was still so prominent in her life. He wished he dug deeper into her social media. Wished that he searched her name in obituary searches or asked about her family earlier. It seemed like an entirely vulnerable way to bring it up and now she was stuck with him in her apartment where she probably felt completely exposed.

Hence her question. Taking a deep breath Harry wanted to tell her he would love to make out with her like a horny college frat boy. And yes, he had thought of bending her over this cheap furniture at least ten times since he arrived. But Harry liked to believe he wasn’t like most men on the website he found her on; he would never make her do anything she didn’t want to. He wanted her to be comfortable around him. Especially since he was kind of falling madly in love with her with every passing second. “I don’t expect anything but for you t’be yourself, kitten,” he said softly. “If our...relationship heads that way, m’open to it, of course. You’re beautiful, intelligent, kind, and funny. I would love t’do more with you of course. But m’not an animal. M’not going to make you.”

“You kind of pay me to do that though,” she reminded him still not fully looking at him. Her eyes darted to the pile of flattened cardboard boxes, and he watched the way her fingers kind of shook as she reached for other scraps of plastic and Styrofoam to put in the trash pile.

Tilting his head at her, he reached out and placed a hand over hers, stilling the shakiness and gave her a squeeze. It felt like heaven just to hold her hand. Harry felt so lucky he found her before someone else did. “M’not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to. I just want to spoil you.”

“And help me build cheap furniture that you hate?” She asked with a smirk. She squeezed his hand back and Harry swore he could hear wedding bells in his head.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me,” he practically groaned. “I would’ve bought you real furniture.”

She grinned so cutely, wrinkling her nose at him. “I bought a real couch and bed.”

“A miracle, it seems,” he grumbled looking at the particle board that seemed to bend a bit with each book she placed on the last shelf.

*

Harry felt he was floating he sat in his office. Spending the evening with her, even just building furniture, furthered how smitten he was with the angel he happened to find on the Internet. Over the last month they hung out several more times, not doing much of anything of importance. Some nights they went out and Harry bought her fancy meals and drinks (and her favorite desserts). Other nights they watched a movie on her comfy, stable couch while Harry wondered if her TV stand was going to fall apart under the weight of her TV.

In the meantime, she didn’t see much of Harry while at work. Most of the time she was in Niall’s office tending to his needs and learning the ins and outs of his job. From what Niall said and what he could see, she was a natural, of course. She was brilliant. “If m’not careful, she might take my job,” Niall chuckled rubbing the back of his head. They were meeting in Harry’s office going over his latest spreadsheet that was so much more organized than the last five years of spreadsheets Niall ever provided. As anticipated, it was all thanks to her.

Harry smirked and rolled his eyes. “You would be so lucky,” he muttered.

“You like this one,” Niall noted. Harry avoided his friend’s eye contact as he looked through the papers on his desk.

Harry nodded. “She’s good,” he shrugged.

“The others were good,” Niall replied, knowingly.

“Are y’snooping as my employee or my friend?” He asked without looking up.

“Best friend,” he qualified.

Harry shrugged again and thought about the pretty girl just down the hall looking adorable and being her perfect self. He hadn’t told Niall yet. But he wanted to. His only hesitation was making her uncomfortable. He didn’t think Niall would say or do anything, but...the idea of betraying her trust or making her feel inadequate at work made him feel like it could be the most horrible thing in the world. “She gets me tea,” he smirked.

“Honestly, I was shocked you gave her company card on the first day,” he chuckled.

Harry felt his eyebrows knit close together. “What?” He said simply.

Niall was seated across from him casually and he glanced at Harry almost curiously. He shrugged. “The coffee and tea?” He asked.

“I thought you gave her a card.”

Niall blinked in surprise. “Uh...no,” he shook his head. “I didn’t give her anything.”

Harry felt irritated. The kind of irritation he felt when she tried to pay for dinner. Or when she bought cheap furniture. Or any time she thought she was inconveniencing him. There was a knock on the other side of Harry’s office at that moment. “Come in,” he called.

“Oh, speak of the angel,” Niall grinned brightly. Harry stared at her, coffee, tea in her hand. Smiling kindly as she entered, she set the tray of drinks on Harry’s desk, and he watched her every movement.

“Talking about me?” She asked quietly. “Doesn’t sound good.”

“All good things, darling,” he promised.

“How do you pay for our coffee?” Harry asked bluntly, quickly, ignoring Niall entirely. He was miffed. In over a month of being here she had probably spent at least a hundred dollars a week of her own money on coffee for the three of them. More, if she went on behalf of other people. Which she was apt to do if anyone asked while in the same room when she asked Niall if he wanted something.

“Harry,” he said quietly. “Stop,” Niall rolled his eyes.

“Uh...I pay for it,” she admitted.

Niall blinked. “You pay for it?” He asked.

“Um...yeah...I thought—”

“Darling, that’s probably cost you a small fortune...s’not sustainable.”

Technically it was Harry buying coffee. But that’s not what he gave her money for.

“Really, it’s okay. I have—”

Harry was already pulling a checkbook out of his top desk drawer. He wrote her name and made it out for a thousand dollars before sliding it to her. She blanched seeing the amount. Oh, she was going to get an earful later. She just knew it. “Let me know if you need more,” he said simply. “Niall, can you please go get her a company card?” Niall stood taking his drink from the tray and headed for the door. He knew when Harry meant business. Literally and figuratively. This was one of those times. He didn’t fully understand why Harry was all up in arms about this, but if he was going to write her a check for coffee, he wasn’t going to question his friend’s reasoning.

“Wait, Niall...,” she said hurriedly. Her cheeks were warming, and her heart rate felt aflutter...like when Harry picked her up from her apartment and held doors open for her. “I...I just set up a tab with the Starbucks across the street. They give us a discount because I go so often. I just tip them and pay at the end of each week...it’s not this much,” she said quickly handing the check back to Harry. A look passed between the two of them and Harry looked away briefly before Niall caught it. He didn’t want him to be suspicious...he would tell him. Niall was his best friend after all. But he couldn’t do it in the workplace. This was a private conversation for sure.

“You set up a tab?” Niall asked. Harry stared at her with so much...annoyance. She could feel his irritation seeping through the air, and she truly thought she was going to lose both her jobs for this. It was just coffee and she had already told Harry she didn’t need as much money as he gave her. Coffee was the least she could do. “Why didn’t we think of that?” Niall directed his question to Harry.

Harry didn’t know either. His agitation disintegrated by the second as he realized she was much more brilliant than he gave her credit for—even for something as simple and lovely as coffee. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone. It made her look like she was in trouble with a school principal. Her fingers fidgeted with the pockets of her skirt and Harry thought about how he wanted to kick Niall out of his office and how much he would love to rip the skirt off her so he could have her all to himself. She was too beautiful, too smart. He was grateful he was seated behind his desk hiding his lower half. “Don’t buy coffee for anyone here with your own money,” Harry told her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh stop,” Niall said shaking his head coming back to her. He put a hand on her arm and gave her a gentle squeeze. “‘Thank you, darling.’ Is what Harry meant.”

“Yes. Thank you. Don’t do it again.” Harry didn’t fully understand what was happening to him regarding this perfect girl. Never in his life did he anticipate finding a companion online, spoiling her rotten, and seemingly falling for her at the same time. So much so that he was jealous of Niall. He wanted to yank his best friend’s arm out of its socket solely for touching her arm.

Unfortunately, she saw the way his eyes connected with Niall’s hand on her arm. She was definitely going to get an earful tonight.

--

taglist: @tpwkstiles @matildasatellite @jessitpwk @jerseygirlinca

[one-strugling-bean]

So.

I finished the 4th season (MAG #160)

......I'm unwell

(part 3 of my Magnus Archives experience)

Ahhhhh where do i even start???? Ok, ok I think I'll start with the lesser things

First off, right off the bat, RIP Tim. More than ever, now I know he didn't have to die and I am so so sad he did..... Flirty boi deserved so much better u^u

Martin collected many moments of badassery throughout the 3rd and 4th seasons. Im so proud of his growth. Not him burning statements and snipping back at Elias - ahhhhhh he was so coooool, I wish someone else was there so that they could tell him! And when he made Fairchild sit back down to finish answering Martin's questions, I swear I got chills!!

Anyway. I continue being a fierce Martin fan, nothing new there

What is new is my newfound adoration for Daisy. Seriously. She's my baby now. Idc what happens or who dies, she needs to end this story okay :'))))

No, im 200% serious, if Daisy doesn't survive to the end, im def going to cry. Because i can totally see her being the "sacrifice herself so that everyone else will have a chance" type.

I swear she was the only one holding the brain cell power this season –  and FINALLY, someone who's not Martin is not being a bitch to Jon!!!

I wasn’t even expecting Jon to be able to bring her back. Much less for them to become supportive avatar besties! I’m so glad the writer decided to take that turn with her. It’s really satisfying from a narrative standpoint to have Daisy of all people do a whole 180 on her standpoint with Jon.

Idk, i just really liked her this season. She deserves all the hugs. So she gets a meme :)

Basira, on the other hand, fell a bit for me, but i think that was kind of the point. She was fierce and stony and nearly zero compassionate, – very Gertrude-ish of her –  but after everything that’s happened, i can't really blame her :/

Im just here praying to everything that the cop ladies can get a modicum of a happy ending

And just so I round up the gang, im scared for Melanie... She is now blind and also has (had?) a monster as a therapist. And Georgie doesn't feel fear which makes them even less likely to sense danger if it comes for them. I hope they're able to push through whatever season 5 throws at them

Okay. So only Jon is lef now. What can i say about him tho?? I mean, i can say he's been going through it.

Like, I spent my whole time hearing this podcast lowkey making fun of him for collecting beatdowns from pretty much every character - AND IT TURNS OUT IT WASN’T EXACTLY JOKING MATTER AND WAS ACTUALLY PLOT RELEVANT??

WHAT IS THIS SORCERY AND WHY IS IT MAKING ME FEEL BAD FOR VOICES ON MY PHONE??

I just feel so bad for Jon. The guy did not deserve all of this. He really was a lamb to the slaughter—a poor wet cat, an eternal damsel in distress, the Antichrist…?

That last statement from Elias/Jonah is so good tho. Like, objectively. I love it. Not only does it take the listener in a nice little trip down memory lane - nostalgia is always fun - but its also just. So evil.

They really gave us such a sweet start – Martin and Jon bunking together in a cabin in Scotland(?) seemingly happy and it's all "uwu, they sho cute, yada yada- and then BAM!! APOCALYPSE HAS BEGUN!"

(i could literally be here for hours coming up with titles for Jon. he makes it too easy.)

Elias though...... I was spoiled that he was Jonah Magnus halfway through season 2 or so, so the reveal wasn't a big deal for me. I wonder how shattering it was for listeners when it first dropped though... At least he upped his villainy cred this season. Suits him better than the "unbothered neutral/evil stand-by" vibe he gave before.

And one last character thing, I fell in love with Peter so quickly. His lines were all gold and his delivery even more so. He just had that unflappable vibe to him. Like he didnt have a care in the world.

Oh, and him and Elias totally had ex-wives who spent the last 10 years fighting about who gets what in the divorce energy.

No, i will not elaborate.

Uhhhhh yeah. I grew to appreciate Helen more and more every time they showed up. Simon Fairchild was surprisingly fun for an old man, Gerry deserved the freaking world (thank you so much Jon for burning that page) and i think that’s kinda it on my favorite “creatures and associates”

Im super excited for this last stretch. i wonder if TMA will stick the landing. I sure hope it does, and honestly trust it will.

Anywayyyyyy, off i go for those last 40 episodes. Wish me luck!

Finish testimony, or whatever

[kikijackson-blog]

A is for Apple but Also for...? Phonics - Coco Special Birthday Edition

The celebration continues after everyone has gone.

Coco, Reader

Readers 18+ Only Please.

Warnings: Language and sexual references. Aside from that it's mostly fluff.

“Babe,” you shout out as you finish throwing the last paper plate away.

“Do you want something from the kitchen?”

“Yeah, you.” Coco answered from the living room.

He was sprawled out on the couch watching TV. Some children’s show was playing. He always acted annoyed when it would come on but deep down it always brought him joy hearing the opening music. He’d never admit that though but he didn’t have to, you knew it. You smile as you make your way to him. You had told him he could watch anything he wanted to today. It was his day after all and this is what he chose. But it wasn’t the show he was watching, it was the person watching it that pulled at his heart strings and hearing her laugh and sing along was one of his favorite things to do.

He moved his feet to make room for you but as you take a seat next to him he reaches out and pulls you to him.

“I told you I’d help you clean up but you wouldn’t let me. Me corriste de la cocina like I offended you or something.” He said in a childishly exaggerated fake hurt tone with a fake pout to match.

He kissed your forehead as you snuggled into him. “Please, you know there was no way in hell I was going to let you do any work today. That’s why you even offered.”

A guilty smile crossed his face, “Yeah but I still offered. That's what counts, right.”

You look into his eyes like it’s the first time you’d seen them and in one quick moment you see everything in them. The past, how you first met, your first “sort of” date, everything the two of you had been through to get to this point. The journey was long and filled with ups and downs. More downs than ups and many were the times where you’d almost thrown in the towel, but you made it here somehow and you wouldn’t trade any of it.

“Happy birthday,” softly you say to the man who had forever changed your world.

“Thank you.” It was as if he could see it in your eyes, he knew exactly what you’d been thinking of.

“For not giving up on me.”

“A is for?” said the character on TV.

“Apple!” shouted an over excited little voice.

In your ear he whispers, “A is for anal.” You playful smack him in the chest.

“Can I have some?”

You laughed as you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“But it’s my birthday.” He reminds you. “You said I could have anything I want.”

“Was that your birthday wish?”

He held you tighter as you shared a passionate kiss when you heard little footsteps hurriedly making their way to you. You could feel his smile against your own. Both of you turn to see this beautiful bundle of chaos in pigtails running towards the both of you, her ringlets bouncing all the way. She was a menace, a spoiled princess who if you let her get started was an unstoppable force and her father wouldn’t have it any other way. That was his angel even when she was being a devil. She was holding onto a piece of paper. You recognized it as soon as you’d seen it, it was a project she’d been working on all day.

“Cuddle party!” She shouted. Not wanting to be left out of the fun, she jumped onto the sofa with you and Coco.

“Happy birthday, daddy.” She shoved her masterpiece in his face. “I made it for you, daddy.”

You and Coco look at it and are both puzzled but she’s waiting for him to say something.

“For me?”

She nodded, “Yes, just for you.”

“Thank you, mija.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” he could feel you silently laughing against his body, your face buried in his neck trying to contain it. “It’s a beautiful.”

“Can you tell what it is? Can you, daddy?”

“Um- yeah it’s...uh…it’s-”

Her big beautiful brown eyes looked into his, filled with such pride in her artwork and so much love for her dad.

“Babe, what is this?” He whispered in your ear.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore and just let it go. Your little girl laughed with you, not knowing what you were laughing at but she wanted in on that.

You both smiled.

The three of you embraced in this cuddle party and watched TV like that until she fell asleep. It took a while to get out of that tangled mess as you both tried carefully not to wake her.

“I’ll put her in bed.” Coco mouthed. “You.” He motioned with his head to the bed the two of you shared with that devilish smile you’d long grown accustomed to. You knew full well what that smiled meant.

You quickly got out of your clothes and into the red lacy babydoll that you had purchased just for tonight.

“Babe, really, what the fuck is this?” Coco asked, drawing in hand, studying it closely. You stand right night to him and for a long while the two of you try to decipher the puzzle until he brought his lips so close to yours, you could feel his breathe as he said, “Thank you for giving her to me.”

“No. Thank you.” You take another glance at the picture as you take it in your hands before laying it on the dresser.

“Hmmm, but I think we should get her some art classes ‘cause I have no fuckin’ clue. It looks like a melted unicorn.”

“Nah, baby, it ain’t got no horn.”

“Well, then what’s that pointy thing?” You asked.

He turned to look at you. “I don’t-” it was the first time he’d taken in the full sight of you in that sexy red piece. It was his favorite color but you already knew that.

“Fuck.” He was all he said.

He ran his hands all over your body, kissing your neck, gently nibbling along down to your collarbone, making his way to your breasts when you stopped him.

“Oh, wait. I have a present for you.”

“Yeah, I know you do, baby.” He said huskily.

“No, I mean an actual present.”

“You already gave me my present earlier.” He said in between kisses.

“Yeah but I have one more for you.”

You pulled away from him to retrieve the small gift bag that rested next to your daughter’s art piece, forgotten for now.

Coco was a little annoyed at the absence of you in his arms and he didn’t protest quietly but he kept his eyes trained on you, watching every move you make, wondering what else you could have gotten him and why it couldn’t wait until after he got his real present.

“Here you go.”

He took the little bag and peeked in it. With that devilish smile plastered all over his face again he says, “Really?” as he pulls the bottle of astroglide out.

“Happy birthday.”

[spiralinghours]

“Personal Assistant” Pt 6

Fandom: Saw franchise

Characters/Pairing: Mark Hoffman x fem/afab reader

Rating: PG-13? For this part maybe?

Tags/Warnings: feeding kink, belly kink, chubby Hoffman (duh obviously), bratty behavior, banter, switchy behavior for both characters, animal name calling/terms (lotta bear and maybe some pig and/or cat endearments here), general adult language

Summary: It’s Hoffman’s birthday so his secretary takes him out (even if her motivation is pretty selfish).

Author’s Notes: Written as a light, little distraction, so please enjoy—hopefully it’s a nice little distraction for you too.

None of these installments really take place in any particular order, btw. They’re just little slices of life.

WAY MORE emphasis on the feedery stuff in this one. Just be warned (or be excited idk).

As usual, there might be grammatical and spelling errors that I’ll try and fix later.

Hoffman begrudgingly (though still tender and endeared towards you) let you drag him around downtown, settling at some nice though generic enough restaurant that you had made reservations at. He wasn’t a man super keen and enthused about celebrations and milestones, which was why he moved hesitantly along when you sprung it on him that you were taking him out for his birthday. It took some investigative work on your own, under his nose, but in a workplace where everything about everyone was on record, in print, it wasn’t hard to learn his birthdate.

“Cheer up, you big grumpy bear,” you chimed, guiding him towards the restaurant entrance with a hand on his back.

“You must really be sweet on me to go to this trouble. You know I don’t care about this kinda thing.”

“Don’t make it sound sappy,” you hushed him. “Secretaries do shit like this for their bosses. Keep them organized and on task and content. It may as well be part of my job.”

“I dunno, darlin’. There’s a lot you do for me that isn’t necessarily part of the job description.”

“So don’t let it go to your big head, because maybe that’s for me. Anyways, you better say thank you. You’re gonna love it here.” You bustled around hautily, feeling as though you should have clipped a leash to your boss to get him to haul his ass. (“He’d probably like that,” you noted.)

His stern features softened, taking a moment to cast a glance down at you warmly. “I know I will, babydoll. Maybe I’m humoring you because you went to so much trouble. And you look so pretty.” His look took a sassy slant as he looped a finger through a loose strand of hair hanging by your ear.

“Oh yeah yeah,” you rolled your eyes (one time of hundreds to come that night). You leaned your head away, strand of hair untangling from his finger. “You’re humoring me? You act like you’re not excited to eat.”

“I think you’re the one excited that I’m gonna be eating,” he grinned in that smug feline way. He made a demonstration of grazing a hand over his softened belly, which you smacked lightly.

You took hold of his necktie (a nicer heather purple one you had picked out and left in his office that morning, almost as a threatening reminder of the occasion) and yanked it lightly, bringing his face down towards yours. “We can turn around and leave. Because you don’t sound so excited to have a nice dinner, birthday boy.” You sliced in the moniker like a cutting insult.

Hoffman enclosed his large hands around yours, still encircling his tie. “This is very sweet of you, and I would love nothing more than to have my very beautiful—and very hard ass—assistant spoil me and shove cake in my mouth for dessert.”

Your eyes lit up. “I’ll shove cake in your mouth if you’re good and finish all your food. All of it.”

“Whatever you want, honey. I’m on my best behavior tonight.”

You loosened your hand from his tie, letting your fingertips drift down his chest. “I’m gonna roll you outta here when we’re done,” you whispered, voice a little rough on the edges with excitement. But it was so goofy you had to giggle.

“That’s kinky, baby. I wish you would.” He gave you that snarky grin once again and let you drag him through the foyer by his jacket lapel.

—

You had sort of glazed over what all Hoffman had eaten, even though he let you order each course for him. The only vague reminders were the remaining dishes with crumbles of sausage and sauce, or some coated in chimichurri and bloody steak juices. A lot of meat and pasta for a big guy, you justified.

More attention was paid to how worn Hoffman was looking, and how he had adjusted his pants as he finished off each dish. You had noticed at two separate points his hands roamed downwards to undo some buttons; the first time was the lowest button on his shirt, which tucked uncomfortably tight under the curve of his belly; the second time was the main button on his pants, which would have been straining more obviously if not for his belt and suspenders keeping him strapped into his clothes.

You peeked under the table to confirm which buttons and other clasps had come undone. Grinning, you reached your high heel across the booth to toe at his gut teasingly.

You could see him wince slightly as he gripped your ankle and started massaging your calf—all an attempt to stop poking at his overfull belly.

“Please, baby, none of that now,” he pleaded softly, tiredly. He was so cute and pathetic with his sleepy blue eyes and his muffled little burps, all the while still tending to rubbing your leg (as if it wasn’t his own birthday that he should have been pampered on).

“So no cake?” you pried, eyebrows raised.

He looked at you somewhat defeated—all typical traces of sarcasm and cockiness dulled down (but never completely gone). “Can we take it to go? I think I need to lay down.”

“Of course, Hoffy-Bear. I’ll be nice about it since it’s your birthday. I guess.” You blepped your tongue out at him before gesturing towards the server for a little to-go cake and the check (on Hoffman’s card of course).

Once those final details had been squared away, you took your time getting up from the booth, savoring the way your boss heaved himself to his feet. The way he pulled himself up and out from the cushy red seating was such a feat, looking heavy and laborious. He hadn’t bothered fastening back up the two loosened buttons, but instead did the whole maneuver of hoisting his belt and waistband up with a small grunt.

He wasn’t the type to let on that he was struggling—at least not in public—and so kept his whining and wincing under his breath… Though his shallow breathing was hard to mask. Especially with the foolish attempts to suck in his gut, which barely moved with his inhale, so it rounded out burdensomely in front of him. Being so stuffed and moving so cautiously only emphasized the distinct waddle in his gait.

“Need help?” you couldn’t help but pipe up, spikes and lace all in your tone. As you stood, you placed one hand on his lower back—as you had when you all had entered—but the other secured firmly to his stomach, all solid and warm.

“Thought you were gonna be nice,” he grumbled at you.

You just giggled, guiding him out with slow, steady steps.

—

“Comfy, sir?” you inquired in an overly-babying tone.

You two had hauled it back to your apartment (Hoffman was seldom big on having you over at his, blaming the lack of comfort or too much mess) where you had let your boss settle back onto your bed. Lacey, silky trimmings fluttered around him as he took in the comfort of all your pillows under his back and head.

He didn’t quite answer, though he looked to be on the brink of sleep: eyes shading down lower than usual, blue irises glassy. A fragile “Mmmm” left his lips.

“Too tired for that birthday cake?” you prodded.

“Ugh… I guess not. Not if you promise to be sweet on me if I eat it.”

“Of course, Hoffy. Anyways, you gotta blow out your candle and make a wish.”

He nodded incoherently, allowing you the moment to retrieve the cake in the kitchen and plate it up with a single lit candle.

When you returned, seating yourself within the little room his lap allowed, he had groggily repositioned himself so that his suspenders were undone and slack at his sides, with one hand enveloped beneath his undershirt, and the other clutching one of your stuffed animals in the cleft between his chest and his tummy. It was too adorable. If he was more awake to catch you gawking he would’ve barbed something smart off at you. But he was so damn tired.

“Okay make a wish,” you instructed, cake held out in front of his face.

“Not even gonna sing to me, huh?”

“Do you really want me to?”

You exchanged shit-giving glances before he blew out the little flame. You immediately scooped a heaping bite of Devil’s Food onto the fork and poised it before his lips, your other hand gingerly propping his chin up.

Without question, he slid his mouth over the fork, pinkened thick lips becoming slick with frosting and saliva.

The motion repeated in silence, save for some quiet groans and hiccups on his part. The thing was, the slice was bigger than typical—really meant to serve two to four people.

“Such a good boy for finishing all that,” you cooed with a slight edge of condescending playfulness. “Whatta big bear.” You set the plate aside and gave his belly a light but firm pat. Other than the very obvious visual evidence, you could feel how stuffed he was in how his gut barely had any give to the touch, under that black, stiff, starched fabric. Only a solid wobble as he shifted around and breathed.

“Ugh, I feel like going into hibernation. You don’t need to coddle me like that,” he snipped, too incapacitated to sound threatening.

“Maybe I wanna. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Nothing I guess. Too full of cake… Which is entirely your fault.”

You were about to sass him for such choice words, when you decided to indulge in the situation instead. You spread your fingers over his broad sides, brushing up against the dips of his love handles, and raked your touch in a deep massage.

Hoffman squirmed slightly, a tiny frustrated grunt bumbling from his lips. “Knew it.”

“What?” you feigned offense, not relenting at your soft, slow presses into his bulk.

“This wasn’t for my birthday, this was so you could get me all fat and sleepy and play with me like I’m some kinda toy.”

“Aren’t you? My big stuffed bear,” you laughed lightly.

It was his turn to roll his eyes at you. Nonetheless he reached a hand over one of yours, guiding your smaller palm around his gut. “Right there… Ah… Yes. Like that. A little softer, please.”

“Usually I’d give you shit for trying to micromanage me, but I did promise to be nice.”

“That’s right.” Hoffman pinched your chin with his free hand.

You undid the rest of his shirt buttons, looking over how the tight white shirt underneath had rolled up over the curve of his stomach.

“I know it’s not typical,” he went on, “but would it be so bad if I fell asleep here tonight? I’m fucking exhausted.”

“You don’t have to work tomorrow?”

“I made a point to take tomorrow off. So if I’m not at work, neither are you.”

“I can’t argue with that,” you murmured, roaming your hands up to his face, pushing away the unkempt curtain of black hair that had previously been slicked back. “Well, I’ll be sure to get up early anyways. Gotta make you a decent breakfast.”

[cuddlepilefics]

Baby bat

Prompts: @cozytober

24 carving pumpkins, decorating for halloween

Alt 4 “Thanks for putting up with me."

Fandom: Stray Kids

Little: Felix

Caregivers: Stray Kids

No one’s POV.:

Felix was always easily excitable for any seasonal events and even more so when he was in littlespace. Luckily, the members knew about this side of him and loved little Lixxie just as much. As soon as stores started to sell fall-themed drinks, Hyunjin had made it a habit to pick up a special coffee for his dongsaeng on his way to work. Seungmin didn’t mind the Aussie’s scented candles at their shared apartment and even helped to add to their shared candle collection, making their place even cozier. There was one thing Felix hadn’t dared to ask yet though.

Some of his friends had already made plans to go to a Halloween party but Felix had a different idea. He had never spent Halloween in his headspace before but it sounded like a fun experience, so he really wished that some of his caregivers would agree to spend it with his little-self but he didn’t want to keep anyone from attending the parties they had been invited to. One evening, Felix approached Seungmin during dinner and hesitantly asked: “Would you mind if I decorate for Halloween? If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll limit it to my room only but I think it’d be fun.” – “Sure, go ahead. If you want, we can decorate together. Do you have decorations or should we buy some?”, the vocalist chuckled.

Felix didn’t have any decorations yet, so he shared his pinterest board with Seungmin. They agreed on some of the decorations and also showed them to Hyunjin, who agreed to craft some with little Lixxie the next time they’d get a day off. The older was always looking for fun activities to entertain Felix with when he was small, so this was the perfect opportunity. Chan eventually inquired about the boy’s plans for Halloween and immediately promised he’d take care of him if he decided to slip. Predictably, Felix was over the moon when he learned that he’d actually get to experience Halloween in his headspace. Seungmin too was on board and secretly conspired with Chan to have a little Halloween party at their place, partly to show off the amazing décor Hyunjin and Felix had crafted.

Minho and Jisung already had plans for a date at a haunted house and a special dinner, so they sadly had to turn down the invitation but they took Felix costume shopping a week before Halloween. The Aussie wasn’t entirely little during their outing but he wasn’t entirely big either, giddily swinging their arms as he walked between the two of them. He was so excited about the new bat costume, Jisung had helped him pick, that he didn’t even notice Minho sneaking something else into their shopping basket. Not wanting to spoil the surprise, Minho gave the other treat to Chan to give to Felix on Halloween.

Changbin and Jeongin would be going to a costume party during the late evening but wanted to spend as much of the day with little Lixxie as possible beforehand. As soon as Chan had bundled the little up in a thick coat with a scarf and beanie, Changbin took him to a pumpkin patch to pick out pumpkins for him and Jeongin to carve. Felix obviously chose the biggest and roundest pumpkins, which he was completely unable to move off the ground. Laughing at his dongsaeng’s predicament, Changbin carried the pumpkins to the car and praised the little for his pick before buckling him into his seat.

He also helped Chan clean the dirt off the pumpkins, while Jeongin took Lixxie to put on his costume. The little could barely sit still while Jeongin put on his makeup for him and was disappointed when his caregiver insisted they needed to wait with putting his wings on till they were done carving the pumpkins, so they wouldn’t get dirty. The disappointment was soon forgotten though, when they joined their hyungs in the kitchen. Chan and Changbin had already set everything up for their dongsaengs and made sure to stay close by to supervise, not entirely happy with little Lixxie wielding such sharp knives.

Once the pair had successfully removed the seeds from their pumpkins, Changbin set about roasting them with some salt, while Chan assisted Felix, afraid the little would hurt himself. Felix didn’t mind, he was a bit nervous around all kinds of sharp kitchen utensils but he was very clear about how he wanted his pumpkin to look and could even show Chan reference pictures. The leader did his best to match his dongsaeng’s ideas as closely as possible, sweating slightly from the pressure. He wouldn’t have had to worry though because with the way Felix adored him, anything he did would be perfect in the little’s eyes.

Seungmin had already a spice-scented candle, so the apartment was slowly filling with a cozy scent that matched well with the roasted nutty aroma from the pumpkin seeds. Soon, Changbin and Jeongin had to get ready though, so Seungmin helped Felix put on his bat wings and Hyunjin helped him fix his makeup, that had gotten smeared during the hard labor of instructing Chan how to carve his pumpkin. “Lixxie, I got a little treat from Minho and Jisung for you”, Chan announced when Hyunjin carried their baby bat to the living room. The leader had his hands hidden behind his back and Felix giddily wriggled out of Hyunjin’s hold, waddling up to the eldest.

Giving Chan his most adorable puppy pout, Felix squealed when the leader brought his hands to the front and showed him a candy pacifier, decorated with fangs. Chan slipped the treat between his dongsaeng’s lips and cooed: “Now your costume’s complete. You look so adorable.” – “Lixxie nuh ‘dowable. I ish scawy”, the little slurred behind his paci before giggling at the sweet taste. “Alright, you scary baby bat”, Chan laughed, “It’s getting dark out, so how about we light a candle in your pumpkin, so Changbin and Jeongin can see it before they have to leave?” – “Hyungies nuh go”, Felix whined but followed Chan.

When Changbin and Jeongin bid their goodbyes after taking a few pictures with Felix in their costumes, the little clung to Changbin, wrapping his bat wings tightly around the older. He was even more heartbroken when Hyunjin and Seungmin weren’t back yet and him and Chan were alone all of a sudden. Sure, having one caregiver with him was already more than he had expected a few weeks ago but he wasn’t in his headspace a few weeks ago. Whenever he was little, he really depended on affection, so the more caregivers were present and ready to fawn over him, the better.

Hyunjin and Seungmin didn’t take too long though and by the time Chan had Felix picking out a movie he wanted to watch with them later tonight, they returned with steaming takeout boxes and called the Aussie’s for dinner. Seungmin pulled Felix into his lap and plucked the paci from his lips, so he could feed him. They had picked a few different kinds of savory pancakes and let the little try some of each, so he could figure out which he liked best. Not wanting him to go into a sugar rush already, Hyunjin sliced a persimmon for dessert and placed it on a plastic plate.

Felix happily munched on his fruit, leaning against Seungmin’s chest while Chan and Hyunjin cleared the table. When they were done, Hyunjin took the boy to clean up because his hands and face had gotten sticky and they didn’t want him to get the mess on his costume. All the while, Felix happily rambled on about the movie they were going to watch. Not that Hyunjin understood a word, the little’s speech too slurred behind his paci.

When Hyunjin placed his dongsaeng down on the couch, Felix insisted on throwing his legs over the back of the couch and let his head dangle, so he could look at the TV from a different perspective. “Don’t you wanna turn around, Lixxie?”, Chan cooed as he watched the boy’s face redden. Shaking his head, Felix reminded: “’m bat.” – “I know, but not even a bat can eat head down”, Seungmin chuckled, placing two bowls on the coffee table, “Look, we got roasted pumpkin seeds and gummy worms.” That was all Felix needed to know to sit down properly on the couch.

“Wan’ lap”, Felix pouted, scooting closer to Chan, who didn’t hesitate to pull the boy into his lap. Hyunjin brought his dongsaeng’s sippy cup filled with cherry juice and announced: “Hey baby bat, I got you some blood to quench your thirst.” Clapping his hands, Felix clapped his hands before reaching for his sippy cup. “Careful Lixxie, you don’t want to have to interrupt your movie to take a bath or change your clothes”, Chan warned, taking the sippy. He gently tipped it against the impatient boy’s lips and smiled when the younger eagerly suckled.

Chan and Hyunjin slept over that night, partly because Chan had already fallen asleep under Felix before the movie had ended and partly because they didn’t want to sneak out on him while he was regressed. None of them expected the little cauldron-shaped candy baskets, the boy had hidden in their rooms with a neatly written note: Thanks for putting up with me.

[minkkumaz]

CIRCLES

changbin was a romantic, and he wanted nothing more in the world than to run away with your hand perfectly fit into his. if not forever, for a little while. he just wanted to show you how much you were worth.

PIERCE THE VEIL series

PAIRING seo changbin x gn!reader WC 1.0k TAGS established relationship trope. hurt/comfort. reader has implied body issues. insecurities. kissing. OMI NOTE this is the final part of the series! it was a struggle getting this one out because characterizing changbin is really hard for me for some reason? i had to read so many bin fics to kind of get a clear picture and in all honestly i'm still not super proud of it. despite that, this series as a whole has been a journey, so ty to everyone who tuned in !?!?!

it was the little things that changbin would always do for you. over time it became extremely obvious that acts of service were one of his favorite love languages. nothing mattered to him as long as you were a happy and spoiled significant other, and words could never begin to explain how grateful you were. 

he was extremely true to ‘go big or go home,’ taking you on dates to fancy restaurants, big viewing spots with the most gorgeous sunsets, or just whispering sweet words into your ear during a movie night in his apartment. 

even when things weren’t perfect, and you didn’t feel deserving of the love he gave you, he was always there to treat you. it was almost like you couldn’t escape him.

maybe that was the beauty of it all, having someone to keep you steady when you felt yourself falling. having someone to care for you when you didn’t feel worthy enough. someone so willing to grant the world at your feet.

you practically felt your heartbeat in your ears, pounding loud enough to drown out any sound. the built up anxiety in your stomach, an unknown void of creatures in the back of your mind convincing you that you weren’t good enough. despite being able to subside it for just a little while, it always came reeling back. 

a victim in your own mind, trapped in the idea that you had more flaws than you can count. on the outside it seemed like nothing, but inside it was everything. squeezing at your skin in the mirror, flesh raw from trying to move it around to your liking. 

this was a battle between you and yourself, but there wasn’t a clear winner. you never won, and it killed you. it felt impossible to be slightly comparable, a goal that rot in your head. what else were you supposed to do when you were displayed on someones arm, but none of his fans seemed to think you quite fit? 

but he always heard your cries.

coming home to a quiet apartment, the only sound being muffled sobs from your shared bedroom. he immediately rushed to find you, the feeling of worry drowning him suddenly. when he opened the door, you turned to look at him with such a heartbreaking expression.

“binnie..” you sniff as he scrambles to get his arms around you in an embrace.

“baby.. i’m here. i’m here. tell me what’s on your mind” he coos, caging around your fragile body.

“this is so unfair.” you cry into his chest.

“i know baby, just take deep breaths.” he guides you, rubbing circles into your back, “you’re so perfect, y/n. your face, body, and everything else inside.”

“but people always say–”

“it doesn’t matter what people say. who are they to say what’s good for me? you’re good for me.”

“i just wish i could run away from everyone. with you” you say, though it comes out more like a beg.

“then let’s run away.” he responded with no hesitation.

“binnie,” you move your head from his chest, looking at him with glossy eyes, “that’s impossible– you have a job and so much here.”

“shh, don’t worry about that. if not forever, at least for a little while okay? let me take you somewhere.”  he cupping your cheeks gently.

“where?” “wherever you want to, i just want to help you get away for a bit.” 

“okay.” you whisper hesitantly, the crack in your voice sending a spike through his heart.

“take binnie’s sweater, i know you like it when it smells like me.” he smiles, pulling a sweat shirt off his head and over yours. 

warmth floods you, a familiar scent wafting through your nose. when the hood peeks over your head, you were met with your loving boyfriend once again. he took your hand and led you to the door, letting you stop for a moment to slide your shoes on.

and while you weren’t exactly sure where he was taking you, it felt right. his hand wrapped in yours, making your thoughts a little less loud. 

changbin walked you to a park, somewhere the both of you liked to stroll though during the day when the sun was still beaming; but never at night. the calm atmosphere surrounded the two of you, the temperature was cold but not freezing.

“i’m sorry that you had to walk into that bin.. i was just having trouble.” you mumble, looking down at your feet.

“hey, don’t say that. i understand that you have your troubles sometimes.i love you and i’ll never leave your side.” he squeezes your hand. 

“i love you too. it just gets so– so crazy in my head sometimes. and listening to all these things people are saying makes it so much worse, because you’re so so perfect. i feel so stuck in my own skin.”

“no fan of mine knows you the way i do, y/n. do they know how absolutely ethereal you look in the morning? do they know how much of an effort you make to come to the gym with me even though you hate workout out? never in my life have i ever found someone as special as you, and this goes so much beyond your looks.” he tells you, taking a deep breath after he got all his words out.

“gosh, you’re gonna make me cry again.” you choke, feeling overwhelmed with so much emotion.

“you don’t have anything to worry about, just don’t ever look back. there’s nowhere to go, nothing to worry about, when it’s just us.” he walks in front of you, taking your head in his hands to angle a kiss on your head.

“do you promise me?”

“promise.” he wipes a finger under your eye to dry your tears, before leaning in to catch your puffy lips in a kiss.

and with his lips on yours, everything disappears for a couple seconds. it will take so much time before these thoughts can truly leave you. but as long as he held you in his arms, you could forget about it for a short moment.

you knew you’d make it eventually.

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz !

PIERCE THE VEIL series

[planet-crait]

A New Dev-elopement is next and I’m super excited! It sucks getting attached to Dev with kind of knowing what happens but also I hope for a season two to keep developing him.

Do these kids not normally get homework over the weekend? Lucky. Also a treasure hunt sounds fun! Not sure how that’s homework and what it’s teaching? Maybe the history of the city? Maybe? Or the clues are word problems they have to solve? Well we’ll see what they come up with for it. Kind of hilarious how blatantly everyone hurls paper at Mr. Guzman for that though.

How does the school afford tickets to the water park as prizes? Aww poor kids they’re so devastated that they’re going to be randomly paired. Ohh the heartbreak. I mean. I can’t necessarily relate I uh never had friends in my classes.

Anyways I get Mr. Guzman wants to get the kids to make new friends but I also get the pain especially for a big weekend thing. Oh no. Oh no Hazel when will you learn not to use the word Wish unless you mean it? Wanda’s horrified look was pretty funny though. But oh Hazel may or may not regret that wish I know she’s going to be paired with Dev now.

Lolz Dev and Hazels mini fight is funny but Mr. Guzman should break them up. Hazel you really don’t see why this happened? I think I’ve given up on the questioning Hazel blatantly talking to them it just. Is going to keep being yadda yaddad past. To be fair Hazel you said I wish. You can only blame yourself.

Ohh poor Dev. He can’t even play his game which has music that isn’t very loud at all. Like oof his dad blatantly says his work is a priority over Dev which. Is not an easy pill to swallow. I realize we’re not supposed to like him but he is literally a ten year old being emotionally abused at a minimum by his only parental figure in his life I will always struggle to hold any grudges against literal children especially abused ones okay sue me. (I mean good luck you’ll get like a sandwich and two pencils).

Why am I not surprised Dev wants to ditch a school activity? He seems to believe money will get him anything he wants and well…I can’t argue with the logic as fucked up as that is. I mean it’s wrong morally but it’s not incorrect because capitalism ruins everything.

Ohh so Hazel and Dev have a common book and Game in common? They seem like they could get along really well if Dev wasn’t so spoiled. But ohhh Dev does get the clues right lolz.

I just realized though making ten year plans old walk all over the city by themselves feels kind of cruel. They’re ten and it’s a big city. Also does each pair have their own clues? Like Hazel and Dev keep the post it notes how will the next pair find the next clue unless they’re all different?

Aww Dev and Hazel are having a moment that’s so cute honestly. They get it at the same time and have a little air guitar duet and are laughing. But ohhh the moment has to end. Not surprising I can imagine opening up is not easy for Dev given the glimpses of his home life we got.

He’s starting to smile though that’s progress! Oh OH! He takes off his glasses when he’s finally ready to make a connection (High giving someone) I thought maybe the glasses where like a mask for him and he takes them off when he’s ready to lower the mask and maybe let someone in. Poor kids though fail the high five and face plant hard.

Oh he didn’t put them back on and they laughed despite that oh that’s so cute. I wonder if the pizza stuff did a lot of heavy lifting for getting Dev to be willing to open up to Hazel? That would make sense honestly especially if he’s as starved for affection as I imagine he is.

Seeing him so genuinely smiling is so sweet and cute it makes my heart melt honestly. OHHH HE CALLED HER HAZEL AND NOT ANOTHER NAME!!!! They’re laughing and joking it’s so cute. Aww Hazel is praising Dev to his dad it’s so dang sweet. Oh. Oh no. Dale is brushing it off I hope Dev doesn’t shut down after this.

Oh no he did shut down. Oh poor kid. I feel so bad for him he was so happy and smiling and eager to introduce Hazel to his dad and he just shut him down and his accomplishments so hard. I cannot imagine how crushing it is to have your parent so blatantly brush off the hard work you did especially when it’s something you’re really proud of.

Hazel is trying so hard to reconnect and bring up the fun they had but oof years of emotional abuse do some damage and I’m not sure how easily that can be undone. Ohhh he has really shut down he put the glasses back on and called her the wrong name oof. I think I was right about the glasses being a mask. They hide what his eyes could show as sadness or other emotions he doesn’t want people (his dad) to see. It’s painful seeing such a young kid putting up a mask like this.

Oh I expected Hazel to cry not get mad and leave. Interesting. Also interesting to see Dev seem to immediately regret it and feel bad about it. Unfortunately abuse just. Messes with you. We don’t have any blatant abuse on screen (this is a kids show) but given the neglect Dev faces I struggle to think there isn’t also some major emotional abuse he deals with.

Hazels emotions seem all over the place her being so salty about the sushi. I have a feeling she’s trying to push down the feelings of friendship she was forming with Dev. Oh huh. Didn’t expect Dev to show up again. I guess he really connected with Hazel and just can’t admit it yet. Ohhh Devs insult gave Hazel the clue she needed I love that. Not the insult Hazels mind going back immediately to the project. I didn’t expect the paperweight to be relevant again but hey it works. Oh wow Dev looks super guilty. I kind of expected something to push him but he seems to be doing this all on his own.

Oh Dev lowering his glasses as he re opens up to Hazel. I get that though it makes sense his dad puts him down so much that he would immediately shut down. He is desperate to get something for his dad he’s willing to do a lot to try and get something I don’t think his dad will ever give him. Good on Hazel though for calling out that he hurt her. He owned up which is good but Hazel should call out she got hurt from it. HE SAID SORRY HE SAID SORRY!!!! Aww Hazel forgives him so easily and he removed the glasses again oh my heart.

Wait wait emotional growth wish????? I don’t think that’s ever come up before. Like ever.

Heist yes I love this. Lolz Dev finding doors open over and over again is hilarious. Dev joining on Hazels imagination for the heist is so cute though. And them posing for the security cameras is so funny. Oh more Dev smiles I love it!!!

Ohh I was wondering why he would demand students break into the principles office. That makes more sense and aww. Those photos are so cute. They’re adorable. Protect them at all costs. I do love the principle doesn’t care suddenly because homework over the weekend. Honestly nailed her personality there to solve the conflict.

Oh no the water park closed. Oh the kids will RIOT. THEY NAILED THEIR HIGH FIVE FINALLY!!!!!

Okay so uh. New favorite episode to be quite frank. The wish and its result made sense. The development for Dev worked and Hazel kind of understands Dev more and he’s being more open and not wearing his sunglasses anymore. Also Dev and Hazel are so dang cute. I hope we see him making more friends I need to see this child get love and support damn it. Really really solid episode absolutely loved it I hope we see more of Dev and Hazel hanging out. She clearly has a very good influence on him and he needs that in his life.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

ooooOOOOOO HOW ABOUT SOME JEFFCEST? when the storm breaks???? 👀👀👀👀

send me an ask and I'll tall you about one of these WIPs

This is my Rain God/Sunshine/Ghost/Evil Science Husband marathon sex PWP that's also like. 5 chapters long with a prequel and a sequel 🤡 I've drawn a bunch of spicy art for it that tumblr unfortunately won't let me post, too. Essentially it's a combination of acekimagenda's idea that Rain is the only one who could dom Sunshine + my idea that Ghost is Rain's Goodest Boy.

I won't get too into it bc there's an actual hint of plot that I don't want to spoil, but essentially: Sunshine is Husband's first (successful) clone, and Sunshine has a lot of resentment about it. Esp with Ghost being the last one, and him being obviously Husband's favorite because he's so sweet and perfect, not like crazy, violent Sunshine. He ends up with weirdly biblical daddy issues/kink from it, in a Frankenstein kind of way. (Doesn't literally call Husband "daddy", but refers to him as Creator and sometimes as Father in the religious sense). And then they all fuck about it <3

Unlike their darling Ghost—the last of his true creations—Sunshine couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy within himself for the other man. He only wished he’d been there to bear witness. Though he supposed seeing the results would have to suffice. The scientist, once so proud and arrogant, left a broken wretch in the wake of endless tests, poking and prodding and injecting and cutting, his downfall wrought by his own design. Poetic.  Of course, bleeding heart that Ghost was, he’d rescued their creator from His purgatory. Put Him all back together again like a faithful little puppet. He refused to resent Him for his own treatment. Naive boy. Oh, how Sunshine adored him. Especially when Ghost’s tender care meant he could break their creator all over again, take Him apart piece by piece knowing Ghost would be there to stitch those pieces back together, and so the cycle would renew. Again and again and again.  It was only fair.  Electricity pulsed at the base of Sunshine’s spine, lightning arcing through the vertebrae and straight into his brainstem, tearing a strangled cry from his throat.  “You are wandering,” came a low, thunderous voice that rumbled straight into his empty core. Fingers dug into his lower back, still sparking with tantalizing little licks of plasma. Sunshine wondered if they scorched his skin.  “A little,” he admitted on a breathy laugh, delighting in the displeased hum he received in response. Rain didn’t like to be ignored. He had that same egotistical quality as any deity, the same as his creator, that demanded attention. Devotion. Worship. But Sunshine bowed for no man, nor god. Not willingly—not without incentive.  “Insolent,” Rain murmured, cool mist dripping from even colder lips and curling around Sunshine’s ear. He shivered.  Rain drew himself back, up to his full height, and dragged Sunshine along with.  While Ghost made love to their creator on the bed, Rain pinned Sunshine against the foot of it, hard oak driving into the sharp jut of his hip bones. The insistent press of Rain’s hand at his lower back wasn’t nearly enough to make Sunshine bend to his will. He continued to stand proudly, ignoring the shadow-cloaked presence looming at his back, even as the static in the air around him made every one of Sunshine’s hairs stand on end.  “Why must you make everything difficult?” Rain asked, sighing, a gusty breeze that tousled Sunshine’s hair. “Your pride does not serve you well.” “I think it does.” Look at what his pride has earned him: his creator brought low, a slave to the very things He’d made to serve Him. A celestial deity, a storm made flesh, a god, answering to his pleasure. And Ghost, darling boy that he was, looking up to Sunshine as if he were a god himself, always with such wonder in his big brown eyes. Innocence, as well, that Sunshine could never seem to shake, no matter how he tried to taint him.  “Hmm.” Rain stroked a light hand all the way from the base of Sunshine’s spine to the nape of his neck, where he held him firmly. A final chance to submit. Sunshine refused. “Very well.” 

[rockingrobin69]

Tiny snippet from imperfection, sad and a little sweet.

When Draco was twenty-one years old, he went to buy new towels.

Harry had his eye set on this purple monstrosity, extremely fluffy and very soft and terribly, horribly over-priced. Draco’s allowance hadn’t come through that month (or the one before), but more important was the uncontrollable urge to give Harry everything: anything he could want, ice-lollies and royal-blue pyjamas and another jumper, why the hell not. To spoil Harry rotten, the way he was always meant to be, to surround him with so much love he’d forget for a moment he was ever without it.

Draco wasn’t new to loving someone. Not, even, to doing so obsessively, inexorably. What was new was the look in Harry’s eyes, was being able to hold his hand in public (in—most places in the city). Was the way Harry said his name, the way his courage was stupidly infectious and his heart so big it didn’t fit in his chest, kept coming out in his smiles and in his hands, warm and soft and always generously offered.

Harry was only visiting. He didn’t, technically, live in Draco’s flat, but he didn’t, technically, have to return to Glasgow for another three weeks.

They made do with the time.

And Draco insisted that Harry must have his own things: his own bathrobe, his own pyjamas, his own toothbrush (fucking—gross, Harry!) and his own towel. Bringing them here, to the shopping centre with the terrible, tacky shop with the terrible, tacky things Harry wanted that terrible, tacky Draco would give his life to get for him.

Not in a dramatic way. In a—subdued, quiet way. In an utterly devoted, hopeless way that shouldn’t have felt nice, that still did. Everything felt nice about Harry. Everything but—

No, that wasn’t Harry’s fault, not even a little. Draco being disgusting and horrible was always meant to be kept secret. And it worked, when Harry lived in Glasgow and Draco in Oxford, it worked when they didn’t spend all their time together, but summer was long and tight and close and… and… and Draco didn’t know how to do this. To bare himself without fleeing, to give what he previously thought wasn’t in him, what couldn’t have been.

(Such as: his heart. Strange, no, that it actually belonged to him, when it never felt like it before. When it was wrapped so tight in strings upon strings, tying it to—other places, other people).

And Harry gave back. Everything Draco wanted to hand him, Harry insisted to return. To hold with care all of Draco’s sharp edges. And Draco was worried that he’d keep holding, even after Draco started to crack, and end up with hands full of shards of cutting Draco, end up—hurt.

Harry held the towel very close to his body. A bit like he worried someone might try to snatch it from him. Draco hated the people who raised him (a familiar, anchoring anger) and, out of spite, took his hand.

“Hey,” soft, like the towel. Harry looked up, his smile focusing, turning un-lost.

“Hi. Sorry. Fuck, you’re cold! C’mere.” Wrapping himself around Draco (uncaring for sharp, sharp edges). “It’s a bit expensive, though. There’s another set at half the price in—”

“Harry,” Draco said, “shut up. It’s from me.”

Meaning: it’s not enough for what I want to give you, for what I wish I could. (And Draco’s sad bank statement would be a worry for another day. He could do more hours at the book shop, if Father didn’t… if he stayed in Beijing for a little bit longer).

Harry squeezed him tighter. “You’re so sweet,” he said, and when Draco scoffed, “no, really,” and when Draco scoffed louder, “you are. You’re so—shut up, you’re maybe the sweetest person I’ve ever met, and—”

“Have you? met me, I mean. There’s not a single thing about me that’s sweet.”

“Your lips are sweet,” Harry said slyly. Draco refused to blush.

“Your hand is sweet,” Harry said, and brought it to his mouth for a chaste kiss.

“Your—”

“We’re in public, you fiend,” Draco said breathlessly, when Harry did no more than kiss the inside of his palm. Harry, being a fiend, laughed.

“God. I’m so fucking into you. It’s—come here,” drawing his face up to be kissed, not letting him shy away. Kissed the tip of his nose and his cheek and his left eyebrow. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Draco couldn’t even attempt coherency. Outmatched, overwhelmed with the constant onslaught, Harry-Harry-Harry all the time, and so warm and so sweet and so there, for a whole week now he was there, staying for the month. What… how could Draco defend against him?

So he pushed away, rolled his eyes, hid his red-red cheeks in Harry’s shoulder and didn’t cry. Didn’t even wish to. It was very bright in the shop and the centre was overcrowded and too noisy, and inside it they were huddled together, a bubble of fluffy, purple towel, and them.

It had to be enough. This month, this—whatever Harry would give him, it had to be enough. Draco would be grateful and suffice with it, and not beg for more. And not be greedy, because greed was a punishable offence and terribly gauche and Draco was better than that, was a Malfoy, was a—yes, all that.

So they bought the fucking towel. Then went home, and watched a film, and ate ramen, and sat very close to each other, sharp edges and all.

[calaisreno]

Eloquent

For @notjustamumj May 5 prompt: Purple

John Watson is no writer of purple prose. 

He finds a couple adjectives he likes — brilliant, amazing — and wears them out. He writes short, choppy sentences. And while he may know enough about plot to keep from spoiling the big reveal, his awkward sentimentality, expressed in blocky, stumbling prose, makes me sigh with relief when it’s over. 

I may have expressed my distaste for his stories on one or more occasions. He is my blogger, though, and there is no one else who would bother to write up our cases, much less make me look like a hero. I’m no hero, but this doesn’t stop John from wearing out his adjectives, trying to make me one.

Lately I’ve given up grumbling about his writing, though. He takes obvious pleasure in it, and it actually has brought us quite a few clients. Writing makes him happy, and who am I to complain about that?

There’s another reason, though. 

John Watson has an eloquent face. If his writing were half as eloquent, he would win prizes. Though he certainly has no idea that his every thought passes over his expression like wind on water, I observe it with fascination. 

It was at his wedding that I first began to hope. 

He was happy, overwhelmed, and uncharacteristically giddy, even before the champagne was poured. I stood at his side, my broken heart temporarily mended at seeing his happiness. I gave my speech, played the piece I’d composed for the occasion, and stepped back to watch.

I wanted to soak in his joy, the reason I had done everything for this day. 

Mary at his side, he was being congratulated by various people, laughing and smiling. He turned to Mary and said something, still smiling. 

And I realised: I had never seen him look at her the way he looked at me. 

John, at Angelo’s. Do you have a boyfriend?

John, gazing at me across the police tape, a small smile on his lips. 

John, his eyes admiring as I explain how Lestrade had got everything wrong.

John, too far away to see his expression; hearing his broken voice: You could. 

John, at my grave: You were the best and wisest man…

John, the night I returned. Angry, for sure. But that mask cracked, and I could see his sorrow, all the grief he’d suffered, thinking I was dead.

John, asking me to be his best man: Of course you’re my best friend. 

John Watson is not a hugger. But he’d hugged me during my speech. I was too startled to hug him back, and now I wished I had.

I watched him then, gathering more data. He cared for Mary, that much was obvious. But the smiles on that expressive face told another story. He thought he loved her, believed that he should love her. He liked her, was grateful to her, and had asked her to marry him precisely because he thought I didn’t love him. Because I had more or less told him that I couldn’t, over and over. Not much cop, this caring lark.

He looked up at me then, just as I was realising this. I don’t know what my face showed him. I was sad, I suppose, and maybe he could see that. But the look he gave me was of utter despair, like a man who’s lost everything meaningful in his life. 

That was when I knew that he loved me. And that he didn’t love Mary.

His face shifted, flickered into a smile as he looked back at Mary, but it was a smile devoid of love. He’d seen my face, too, and knew now. 

I left the wedding shortly thereafter. I’d wanted him to be happy, and he wasn’t. But I felt hopeful as I walked away. I loved John, and he loved me, even if he couldn’t admit it. 

It wasn’t so simple, of course. The mystery of Mary Morstan caused us both a lot of anguish. 

John still writes up our cases these days. And he talks about his feelings, though he reminds me that he finds that sort of stuff difficult. It doesn’t matter how prosaic his words are. His eyes are constantly telling me, I love you.

This one got out of the 221b manacles and ran. 😮

Tagging: @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @jrow @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @lisbeth-kk @mydogwatson @elwinglyre

Thanks for reading ❤️ I keep forgetting who's been tagged, but the invitation is still open! Read or write, and tag some people!