#I’m not the same person after seeing this

[lynnieverse]

fresh out the slammer // rafe cameron

oneshot

first love!rafe cameron x heartbroken!reader

synopsis: you just ended things with your boyfriend and find yourself driving to the only person you'd ever called home...

𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚, 𝒊'𝒎 𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖…𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒉 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓, 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒐...

♡

The rain pelted against the windshield in waves as you white-knuckled the steering wheel. Deep breaths kept the sobs at bay, but they still clawed at your throat. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, you thought. How could it have taken so long to leave?

The soft melody of a familiar tune began, causing you to shakily twist the volume knob, letting the lyrics wash over the ache. 

Another summer taking cover, rolling thunder, he don’t understand me…

He never did. Never would. 

Flashes of awkward conversations and forced laughter blurred together, a montage of things left unsaid.

Splintered back in winter, silent dinners, bitter, He was with her in dreams…

A tear trailed down, taking you back to the moment everything changed. The front door swinging open, the stupid excitement bubbling in your chest, the bright smile that disappeared the second the bedroom door cracked open. 

Him. Her. Together. 

Her breathy moans echoed in the back of your mind. Seeing his face contorted in pleasure as you watched, horrified. Your name had been on his lips that morning. Hers was now.

And now here you were—alone, cold, licking wounds all the way back to the place you swore never to return. You’d moved away for a reason, trading in the tight-knit community for big city life. You thought it’d be good for your writing, getting new life experience and being close to the big publishing houses. 

You’d left OBX in the dust, gone, never to be seen again. Except here you were, on your way back after your whole life blew up in a matter of hours. 

The thought of dragging yourself back to the front door of your parents’ house made bile rise to the back of your throat. Mom’s pity. Dad’s quiet disappointment. No, that wasn’t an option. Not yet.  

Before the decision had fully processed, the car veered down a familiar street. Your heart pounded harder with every turn, every streetlight leading you back to him. 

Then, there it was. 

The nerves started then, going haywire. The car eased to a stop by the mailbox.

One knock away. 

Fuck.

He probably wouldn’t even want to see you. 

The stone steps were slick with rainfall as you approached, the tiny droplets seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt. You’re shivering as you raise your fist to the door. 

Tap tap tap. 

You waited for what felt like years, arms crossed over your stomach. Suddenly, the door swung open, and there he stood. Your eyes rake over his figure, taking in the low-hanging sweatpants and black tank top. He’d been working out, muscles more defined than you remembered. But his face, his eyes, they were the same. 

His mouth parted slightly, surprise evident as he stared, like he was unsure if he could trust his own eyes. A beat of silence stretched between you. Then another…and another. Doubt clouded your mind, embarrassment creeped in. Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. 

“I…I’m sorry. This was stupid, I should go.” You turn around on your heel and start jogging back to the car, eager to get out of the rain, and away from Rafe. You’re almost at the end of the driveway when a warm hand encloses around your wrist, pulling you to a stop. 

“Wait,” his soft voice pleads. You close your eyes at the sound, having missed it all these years. When you turn around, he’s close enough that his face is inches from yours. Muscle memory begs you to pull him closer, to feel his skin and taste his lips. The water had soaked you both to the bone by now, causing full body shakes. Rafe wordlessly pulls you back to the front door, urging you through the threshold and into the dryness of the mud room. 

Droplets dripped from the stringy strands of hair cascading down your back, a small puddle forming. Rafe disappeared for a moment before returning with two towels, draping one over your shoulders. His hands linger for a moment, like he wants to touch you, pull you in, but he doesn’t. You hug the soft material close, looking up and watching him dry off. 

“Come on, I’ll get you some clothes.” You follow him up the stairs, knowing the route like the back of your hand, before stopping in his doorway. It felt weird being in his space again, almost taboo, but one wave of his hand had you by his side in a heartbeat. He stacked sweatpants and a hoodie in your arms, and left you alone to change, closing the door behind him. 

You marvel at how things have changed; the old Rafe would have never kept this clean of a room. Even his bed was made. Shaking your head you strip, toweling off and forcing the large hoodie over your head. It smelled like him. Sandalwood and whiskey. Intoxicating. 

The sweatpants were a little long, and you have to tie them pretty tight, but they fit, instantly warming up your goosebump ridden legs. When you swing his bedroom door open, Rafe looks up. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and in dry clothes. He looks you up and down, something flashing in his eyes, before clearing his throat. 

“So…” 

You break eye contact, suddenly all that embarrassment flooding back. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me,” you mumble. He moves, standing right in front of you. Gripping your chin, he tilts your head up, forcing you to keep eye contact.  

“Of course I want to see you, baby. Why wouldn’t I?” His voice is quiet, careful, like the answer might break him. That name. You hadn’t heard it in so long, not from his lips. “I thought you’d never come back.” The sadness in his voice, the way his hands moved to caress your cheeks…it was too much. All at once, the dam broke. Your broken sobs fill the silent hallway, tears soaking your cheeks. Without hesitation he wraps you in his arms, resting his chin atop your head. 

You’d been locked away for so long, judgement clouded by the perfect fantasy life you’d built up in your head. You thought you were happy, but then why was he swirled into all of your poems? He had always been your muse, and that never changed no matter how far you strayed. You nearly laughed at how blind you’d been. But you did your time, and ran back home. To him. Rafe. The arms tightly wrapped around you confirmed what you already knew––you should have never left. 

So you let him lift you up, wrap your legs around his torso, and carry you to his bed. You both know a conversation is well overdue, but at this moment, nothing else matters. You have each other, and everything’s going to be alright. 

[goldenroutledge]

someday my prince will come

pairing ⤜ rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count ⤜ 3.7k

summary ⤜ fluff. in which you’ll never feel alone as long as you have rafe, and he’ll never feel alone as long as he has you.

warning(s) ⤜ wedding planning stress, toxic family members

a/n ⤜ inspired by ‘alone together’ - sabrina carpenter || masterlist

Expect the worst and you won’t be disappointed. That’s what you try to tell yourself, hoping it will wish away the cynicism surrounding what is supposed to be the happiest time in your life. Transactional relationships set the norm on Figure Eight for friends and foe alike. Everyone used anyone they could get their hands on, only leaving them for dead when the conditions were no longer suitable.

It should’ve been no surprise that people would be treating your upcoming marriage to Rafe that same way. As if it’s nothing but a transaction curated to mutually benefit yourself, Rafe, and your respective families. Truthfully, your relationship was anything but.

Years together proved that passion still burns between you, in a way that most can’t begin to dream of. Every look, every kiss and every touch holds that passion somewhere deep inside. There was no denying that you two have enough of it to last a lifetime and then some when Rafe got down on bended knee and asked you to spend your life with him. You love Rafe Cameron for all the right reasons and he loves you the same.

Your families and friends around you are fools to not acknowledge that, seemingly destined to have their own ways of projecting insecurities onto the both of you. Planning your wedding was something you imagined to be a magical time, selecting colors and florals that would paint a picture reminiscent of a fairytale. Expect the worst and you won’t be disappointed.

From the moment your perfectly cut diamond ring was noticeable on your left hand, some chose to take it as a personal invitation to assert their unwarranted advice. It started with your mother, divorced and remarried now more times than you care to keep track of. Her guidance hardly resembles the special experience between mother and daughter that planning a wedding usually brings. After one of your first meetings with your wedding planner, you’d come to regret asking your mother to accompany you.

“I just don’t see why he’s walking you down the aisle instead of me.”

“You mean my father? I didn’t think you’d have such an issue with it given you chose to marry and have a child with him.”

“And I chose to divorce the asshole, too.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with me, Mom. You both made your choices and I made mine. My father is going to be at my wedding whether you like it or not.”

“50 feet away from me at all times, I hope.” She speaks lowly, barely under her breath. You’d be burning with embarrassment right now if it weren’t for your wedding planner, ever attuned and able to spot an argument a mile away, who kindly left you and your mother to chat in private.

“Please, don’t worry about that. I’m sure he wants nothing to do with you either. The only difference is that he’s willing to tolerate you for the sake of my happiness.”

“This isn’t about happiness, Y/n. It’s about respect. Had I not raised you right, you wouldn’t be able to attract a man like Rafe in the first place. The least you could do is acknowledge your mother on your wedding day.”

“That’ll make for a beautiful toast at your next brunch with the ladies from the club. I’ll be sure to write that down.” You chide sarcastically, unable to hold back from rolling your eyes at her audaciousness. “It’s good to know that’s what you’re really excited about. Showboating to your friends that I found someone successful, not that I found someone I love.”

“Like it or not, it’s the truth. I’m not afraid to be honest with you unlike some people in your life.”

“What exactly is honest about guilt tripping me into letting you make all of my wedding decisions for me? For us! You’re lucky Rafe isn’t here or he would’ve thrown you out by now.”

“And risk our relationship just when we’re about to be in-laws? You’re ridiculous. I hope he knows the kind of dramatics he’s marrying into.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m not trying to be malicious, dear. I just want you to have your priorities straight.”

“Believe me, they are.”

“You can’t forget your family in the process, my darling. You can’t just leave me behind like I don’t exist because when this marriage is over you’ll realize that I’m not as crazy as you think. You’ll need me again one day.”

“When my marriage is over? This isn’t some fucking contract. We love each other.”

“There’s no need to get hysterical, Y/n. I told myself all the same things too. You’ll see.”

—

Your conversation with your mother left you disheartened at best, infuriated at worst. One look into Rafe’s eyes would have your worries melting away, but you can’t help the nagging feeling inside that’s telling you to say something. You know how much courage it took for him to open his heart to you in the way that he has. You know how much courage it’s taken for you to open your heart, too. You know how with each other it’s been so easy that neither of you really noticed how naturally your love has blossomed. When you fell for each other, there was nothing that could stop you.

That explains why this nagging feeling, that you assume is guilt, simply won’t go away. How can you imagine getting married to Rafe Cameron, the love of your life, and feel anything but unbridled joy. To give a big ‘fuck you’ to everyone doubting your relationship, you’d love nothing more than to proclaim your love for each other in front of a crowd. But in the many scenarios you’ve played in your head, none of them put you at ease.

There was no denying the deep trust that connects you, knowing that you can tell him whatever is on your mind. The worst thing you’ve ever done, the darkest thought you’ve ever had, he will stand by you through anything. And you would do the same for him. It’s why the idea of saying: ‘Hey, by the way, I don’t want a wedding’, is not something you can muster the courage for. Guilt begs you to tell him anyway, knowing how badly he would feel to know you’re suffering in silence like this.

Little do you know, Rafe is troubled in reconciling his own guilt. It’s not just your mother who wants to see the worst come of your relationship. Considering Rafe’s strained dynamic with his father, that should come as no surprise.

Cameron Development takes up most of Rafe’s time these days, leaving him and Ward to spend quite a lot of it together. Rafe prefers to keep their topics of discussion focused on the company. Their relationship works best that way, a transactional partnership between father and son that would benefit the Cameron legacy for generations.

But if it weren’t for Ward’s nagging, Rafe never would’ve ended up here at the Island Club having lunch with his father. He knows for a fact that it would’ve been time better spent with you, his future wife, desperate to feel the kiss of your lips or be able to exhale in your arms in the midst of a busy day.

Ward spends all of 5 minutes discussing some company stuff that could’ve easily been sent in an email drafted by his assistant before getting down to his real intentions. He always hides them behind the mask of a loving father.

“I lied about why I needed to speak with you today.”

Rafe scoffs, but always manages his expectations when it comes to Ward. “Imagine that.”

Ward chuckles, trying to play off his son’s jab as innocent sarcasm. “I wanted to talk to you about your soon-to-be marriage to Y/n.”

Rafe takes a gulp of his drink, already feeling slightly on edge and on guard at the mention of your life together. “What about it?”

“Have you two discussed a prenup?”

“Dad-” Rafe tries to interject, but to no avail. Ward’s already a step ahead of him.

“I know it’s only been a couple months into the engagement, but it’s never too early to have these conversations.”

“I don’t need to worry about having these conversations at all. And you definitely don’t need to be concerned with it either because I’m not asking her to sign a prenup. Simple as that.”

“Rafe, if there’s anything I’ve learned in my marriage to Rose-”

“Your marriage to Rose is a sham. And Y/n is nothing like her.”

“Y/n’s great.” Ward seemingly surrenders, in hopes to disarm Rafe while still getting his point across. “I’m not trying to suggest otherwise. I’m just saying that things happen in marriages and you need to be prepared. What do you think will happen to Cameron Development if she winds up with half in a divorce?”

“If we get divorced, it means that I’ve got bigger problems than potentially losing Cameron Development.” Rafe laments, finishing his drink. “Besides, she wouldn’t want it.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I know her. For sure. Alright?” Rafe fires back, firm intent behind every word. “I know you have a hard time imagining what it’s like to be loved for something other than your money. And I’m sure you have a harder time imagining how she could love me without it. But you can save your fatherly advice, I’m gonna live my life with Y/n without any of your prenup bullshit.”

Rafe grabs his wallet from his pocket, throwing down several bills on the table that he doesn’t bother counting. All that’s on his mind right now is getting back home to you.

“Have a nice day, Dad.”

—

At this point in his life, Rafe has mastered the art of ignoring Ward Cameron. He’s come to accept that they’re simply a better duo in business than as father and son. The family he came from felt less like family when he fell in love with you. Now that you were about to be married, it was gonna be real. You would be each other’s family not only in spirit, but officially on paper. For the rest of your lives you would be where you always belonged; together.

Right now, Rafe can’t shake the feeling that his father is already preparing for everything to fall apart before you two have a chance to build anything more. Logically, he knows the concept of a prenup isn’t a stupid idea. But his father’s intentions for him have proven to be anything but pure. There’s always something in it for Ward.

Rafe loves you, and that means he’s ready to share his life with you, money be damned. Besides there’s nobody more deserving for him to spend it on, no matter how badly you insist that you don’t love him for the fine jewelry or the dates at expensive restaurants around the island. For him, that’s all the more reason why he commits to showing you a lifestyle that’s beyond comprehension.

He wants to tell you about the absolute bullshit his father brought him to lunch to talk about today but hesitates in mentioning it at all. In any other scenario you’d both laugh it off, but this was a special time for your relationship. It’s delicate, and deserves to be handled with care. Rafe wants nothing more than to protect you from anyone looking to tarnish it.

Rafe’s final straw strikes later that night while waiting for you to finish your skincare routine and join him in bed. His phone sounds with several text messages from Topper. His eyebrows furrow in curiosity, expression quickly turning sour as he reads the messages.

Clearly, after cutting lunch short, Ward was quick to enlist Topper Thornton into his agenda. Seeing the way he wears his heart on his sleeve, he’s an easy enough target to carry out something like this. Rafe scans the messages, catching the gist of it.

Something about ‘A prenup is just insurance, you might not need it! But you should be prepared anyway cause she could leave you at any time, bro’ and ‘Have you heard of the infidelity clause? I'm not saying she would, but you know what Sarah did to me, better be safe than sorry.’ Rafe’s frustration catches your attention when he curses something about ‘this motherfucker’ under his breath.

“Everything okay, baby?”

Rafe looks up to meet your eyes peeking outside the bathroom door. He gives you a reassuring smile, but you can tell that it doesn’t reach his eyes. Coupled with the fact that his energy has been off ever since he got home today, you can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s nothing, it’s just Topper bitching to me about the wedding. He doesn’t think he’ll find a date in time.” Rafe cringes at his white lie, but figures it’s better not to stress you out when you’re about to go to sleep. And it’s not completely untrue, Topper has expressed his concerns about finding a date ever since he found out about the engagement. At this point, it’s to be determined if he’s still invited.

You chuckle at the thought. “Our wedding date is 7 months away, surely that’s enough time.”

“Speaking of our wedding.” Rafe starts, which reminds you of the pit in your stomach. “How did it go with your mom today?”

“It was good.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows inquisitively, picking up on the uncertainty in your voice. Finishing your nighttime routine, you make your way to your shared bed. Rafe gets up to meet you halfway and to make sure you’re okay. He’ll be able to tell with just a glance.

“Okay, baby. You know as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Your heart flutters and you smile at him, knowing in your heart that he truly means it. “I know.” You press a kiss to his cheek, wrapping your arms around his large frame. Being in his embrace drowns out any lingering thoughts of frustration. After all, you could choose to blame it on pure exhaustion clouding your mind. “Can you believe we’re getting married in seven months?”

Rafe beams at the thought. “No. Can’t even fathom what I’ve done in my life to deserve you in the first place.”

You shove his chest softly, the tips of your ears warming up at his words. “If anything, it’s the other way around.”

“Not sure about that one, baby.”

You sigh, full of contentment while being held in the secure hold of your fiance. Yet a part of you still feels resigned from the stresses of today. “Just ask my mother.”

You can feel Rafe’s muscles tense slightly before he pulls back to look at you. “What do you mean? I thought it went well today?” The gears are turning in his head as he anticipates your response. He’s always been great at picking up on the smallest of cues, be it the change in your tone or the look in your eyes.

“It could’ve been better. I mean you know her, she always has something negative to say about everything, she’s pretty much allergic to my happiness.” You chuckle softly, trying to deflect and keep the conversation from going where it’s headed.

Rafe is having none of it. “She doesn’t think we should get married?”

“Not without her involvement, ad nauseam. Everything I suggested, she had a better idea. She’s trying to guilt trip me into letting her walk me down the aisle instead of my dad. It was just her usual schtick, trying to control me any way she can, hoping she’ll get my attention by using our wedding to play her little mind games.”

“You don’t owe anything to her, not about this. Besides, security will take care of it if there’s any problems. I’m not gonna let anything ruin this for us.”

“I know.” You reassure him, running your hand up and down his arm. “It’s just a lot of tradition this, and family legacy that. She’s sucking the joy out of everything, like usual.” You mumble that last sentence, almost hoping Rafe didn’t hear it. “Not that I’m not excited to marry you. You know what I mean, right?”

Rafe nods, flashing back to the conversation he had with his father at lunch today. It’s almost uncanny to him how you two are often on the same page about everything. It’s comforting above all else. “Yeah, I do. I know exactly what you mean. I had lunch with my dad today, got a lot of the same bullshit.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I shut him down. I guess our parents are just hellbent on making sure we do things the same way they did.”

“As if we want to be anything like them?”

Rafe chuckles at your quip, relieved at how you two are able to make light of the stress your families have imposed on you. “As if.”

You both stand in silence for a few moments, enjoying the calm of being in your lover’s arms. The weight of your worries feel lighter now that you’ve shared them with Rafe, unfortunately knowing that they’ve made a home with you until the big day is over and done with. Hopefully you make it, if the stress doesn’t kill you first. If there’s anyone you’d have by your side through this, it’s Rafe. You can’t imagine enduring the hardships that life has to offer with anyone else. Then again, there are worse problems to have. Just seven more months.

“Did you ever see yourself here before? Getting married?” You ask Rafe.

“Not until I found you.” He charms, satisfied with the way you snuggle even closer to him. “How about you?”

“The same. Never thought I’d find the one until I found you. If I’m honest, that’s all I’m excited for, to just be husband and wife.”

“Y/n?” You hum in response, matching his curious tone. “Do you even want a wedding?”

You freeze, noticeably tensing the same way Rafe did some time ago. You knew the answer and had a feeling that he did too. It was painful to put into words. “I want to be married to you, Rafe. You know that right?”

“I know that, silly. I wanna be married to you too, clearly.” Rafe acknowledges, brushing his thumb over the engagement ring on your finger. “But a ceremony and a reception, the tradition. Do you want that?”

You can’t help but give him a knowing look, one that says damn, you’re good. But it’s also filled with a plea for understanding. “I could live without it, but our wedding will be beautiful, Rafe. I just want to make sure that it’s ours. I hope you don’t have the wrong idea, that I’m having second thoughts or anything because I-”

Rafe cuts off your ramble by kissing you, your face cupped in his hands delicately. He’s gentle, but reassuring. He needs you to remember that he knows you and he’ll never forget.

“Run away with me?” His eyes gaze into yours and there’s an intensity of love behind them that leaves you tearing up. “Our wedding will be beautiful, because it will be ours. Just you and me. We can still have the actual event, don’t think that I don’t dream of you walking down the aisle towards me. We can still have the party and the tall ass cake that you deserve. But having that doesn’t mean we can’t have what we want.”

Rafe’s never been more sure of himself as he watches a tear slip down your cheek, his thumb wiping it away before it can fall too far. You beam at him, and it’s your turn to kiss the man that you love. The man that you’re about to run away and elope with.

“Screw tradition, let’s get married.”

—

The sun sets in the distance, giving you and your husband the perfect view of your spot on the beach, taking turns at feeding each other bites of a miniature cake, coated in a silky white frosting to commemorate your marriage. It was Rafe’s surprise to you, having ordered it custom, and practically overnight, decorated with icing rosettes and your new titles, Mr. and Mrs., written beautifully in the center.

“Our families might kill us, you know.”

Rafe’s smile doesn’t budge, he’s convinced it might just be stuck on his face forever as long as he’s spending it with you. “I guess that means we’ll have to die together then, doesn’t it?”

“I guess it does.” You whisper, closing the distance to kiss your husband. You’ll never get sick of it. Golden rays from the setting sun surround you in glowing warmth, something you’ll feel in your heart from this day forward. The light catches your diamond ring perfectly and it winks at you with a sparkle, forever a reminder of the love you and Rafe share.

He pulls back, yet never too far as he holds your face in his hands. His cerulean eyes glimmer with a hope you only see when he’s looking back at you. “You don’t regret it? Not having the fairytale wedding?”

“This is my fairytale wedding. Just you, me, and a cake.” Rafe smiles, unable to imagine that this is his real life; unable to imagine that having him and him alone, is more than enough for you. There’s not a decision he’s been more sure of in his life than asking you to marry him. “Do you regret it? Marrying me without a prenup?”

Rafe scoffs lightheartedly. “You’ve already taken my heart so you might as well have the rest. Nothing else matters to me as long as you’re mine and I’m yours. I love you, remember? ‘Til death do us part.”

He holds out his pinky and you happily reciprocate the youthful gesture by locking your fingers together. “‘Til death do us part.”

Emotion overcomes you once more, pouring your heart into a kiss that’s as true as your promise to each other. You know he intends to keep his, and so do you. Daring to love each other through the pretty and the ugly, healing each other with a simple look or touch. You wouldn’t trade it for anything. If you don’t have each other, then you have nothing at all.

💌: reblogs & comments are always appreciated! thank you for reading <3

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

This has been in my brain seeing many tiktok videos of guys reacting to the books some of the girlies (and any other peoples who are into them) are into.

So I have come to ask what you think Rise! Donnie (or all of them) would do if he happened upon his s/o probably listening ro their audiobook....thwir very adult audiobook. Lol

Donnie Finds Your Adult Audio Book (Crack?) (18+)

Rise!Donatello x reader

A/N: I myself don't listen to a whole lot of audio books. I’m more the type of person that likes to read an actual book with something going on in the background, but I still like this idea. I decided to stick to just Donnie, in order to now overwhelm myself. It’s a somewhat short one, but I still hope you’ll enjoy💜

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Short audio book description of sexual acts, implied smut.

“I’ll be back in a moment”, you said, taking off your headphones and getting off the bed.

“Where are you going?”, Donnie asked, his back still turned to you, as he continued to work with his small mechanic on his work table.

“Just going to the toilet”,  you answered, wrapping your arms around Donnie’s shoulders from behind, pressing a kiss to his cheek, before walking towards the door. “See you in a moment”.

Donnie smiled at you as you left, turning back towards his project, before momentarily looking towards the spot on his bed, where you had been laying just a moment ago. It was here that he noticed that you had left not just your headphones, but your phone as well, both of them just laying on his bed.

Donnie couldn’t help but let curiosity take a hold of him. Whenever you and he were together, with him being busy working on his project, you would hang out on his bed and wait for him to finish. Here you would usually pull out your phone and headphones, and listen to some audio books. But after all this time, Donnie still had no idea what audio books you were listening to. Fantasy, sci fi, drama, Donnie had no idea. He had long been wondering, often asking you about it. But each time you would just blush with a small smile, telling him that it wasn’t anything he would find interesting. But now, as Donnie finally saw his moment to figure out what you had been listening to, Donnie couldn’t think of anything in the world he would find more interesting than this.

Donnie stood up from his seat and quickly made his way over to the bed, picking up your phone and headphones. Putting on your headphones, Donnie unlocked your phone. Of course he had the password to your phone. He got it the same day he gave you his password. You know, usual couple things. But then, as he opened up your phone, he was met with the sight of the cover of your audio book. “Strong Embrace” it said, in big cursive font, over the picture of a couple, holding each other in a very sensual embrace. That kind of took Donnie aback. Was this a romantic audio book? Well, he guessed it was.

Donnie took a look at how far you had gotten, and was surprised to find that you were a little over halfway through. Made him wonder just how long you had been waiting for him to get done with his project that day. And with that thought Donnie pressed play, expecting to hear something sweet and calm, but instead-.

“She cried out in pure ecstasy, as the head of his member hit that spot deep within her, shooting sparks of pleasure through her body. She clung onto his shoulders for dear life, knowing that the only thing that kept her from falling over the balcony edge, was her fingernails digging into his shoulder, his hands keeping her legs open, and his thick cock plunging in and out of her with lewd, wet noises, eching against the castle walls in the dark”.

Donnie froze, phone in hand with wide eyes, as the voice actors started to reenact what the voice over had just explained. And before Donnie could string two thoughts together, about what you may be thinking or doing to these audio books, the door to his bedroom suddenly opened, with you walking in. You only made it a few steps into the room, before you froze at the sight of Donnie with your phone and headphones, staring wide eyed at you. For a moment, Donnie feared that you would get mad at him. That he might have crossed a line he didn’t know was there, pushing too far into your personal space. But instead you started smiling, putting your hands on your hips with a wicked smile.

“Well, now you finally know”, you smiled. “So what do you think?”

“I think -”, Donnie started, pausing the audio book with a smirk. “- that you and I have a lot of things to try out together”.

“You have no idea how long I have been thinking about asking you that”, you smiled, before making your way to Donnie and the bed.

[witchywithwhiskey]

Alright, Molly, let’s try this again ❤️

What if I say Lloyd Hansen and 1-800-Cupid? 😌 Does that strike your fancy?

be my cupid

pairing: boyfriend!lloyd hansen x female reader

summary: when your boyfriend is away on a work trip for valentine's day, you have a plan to make it special. but then he surprises you with an even more exciting present that you weren't expecting.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, light bdsm, light dom/sub, sir kink, praise kink, finger sucking, aftercare, pet names, established relationship, some insecurity from reader and reassurance from lloyd

word count: 3.1k

a/n: i'm so happy you sent in the "1-800-Cupid" prompt!! i was hoping someone would because it seemed so fun. i really like the idea i came up with for this one—and i think it works perfectly with lloyd! thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

“Thank you for calling 1-800-Cupid,” you trilled into the phone, unable to bite back the smile that had spread across your face when you saw the name Lloyd Hansen appear on the screen. “I’m your personal cupid, here to connect you with your true love.”

“My ‘true love’?” The familiar voice on the other end of the line scoffed with an ungentlemanly snort. 

You could practically hear the whiskers of his mustache twitch as his mouth twisted into a playful sneer. Indignantly, you sat up in your bed. 

“Don’t you dare scoff at me, Lloyd Hansen,” you scolded, even going so far as to give your phone a little glare when you knew there was no way for the man on the other end to actually see your expression. After all, you were sitting in your bed, alone in your apartment, while he was half a world away on some business trip. 

“I’m sorry, cupcake, I’m sorry,” Lloyd said soothingly, managing to sound genuinely contrite and teasingly playful all at the same time. 

You rolled your eyes with affection—it was a feat only Lloyd could manage. But it did the trick and you settled back into the pillows on your bed, playing with the edge of your sweater while you huffed a sigh. 

It took you a moment to get back into character, glancing at the short script you’d prepared as part of the surprise you’d planned.

“Now, why are you calling today, sir?” you asked in your best professionally cheerful customer service voice.

“Well, I found a mysterious card in my jacket, with your number on it,” Lloyd said, mirth filling his tone even as he tried to play along. “You don’t think my girlfriend could’ve had something to do with it, do you? D’you think she’s trying to get rid of me?” 

It took all your effort to stifle a hopeless giggle. You could always count on Lloyd to make you laugh, even when you were sad about the fact that he wasn’t there with you.

It was your first Valentine’s Day together, but he’d had to go away on a work trip, and you’d come up with a little plan to make the holiday special when you weren’t able to be together. But he kept distracting you. 

You took a moment to collect yourself, Lloyd waiting patiently on the other end of the line, seemingly just happy to be on the phone with you, which made you all the more eager to get on with your plan. 

“I don’t know anything about that…” you said primly, trying to keep your mouth from curving into a smile and utterly failing. So you moved on, blurting out the next part of your script. “Would you like me to send a photo of the true love you’ve been matched with, sir?”

“You keep calling me sir, sunshine, and you’re going to be getting a photo of my hard dick,” Lloyd muttered, sounding like he was palming the bulge in his pants already. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, warmth cascading down through your body and settling heavily between your thighs, wetness beginning to gather in your panties. It was on the tip of your tongue to beg him to send the photo, so you’d have something to touch yourself to when he inevitably needed to go and attend to the work that had taken him out of the country.

But you shook yourself and persevered with your plan. “Lloyd,” you admonished, your voice a little breathy despite your best efforts. “Do you want the photo or not?” 

“Sure, princess, send me the photo,” he said. Affection was clear in his tone, which made you soften just a bit. 

Pulling the phone away from your ear, you tapped on the screen until you pulled up the photos you’d had taken in a boudoir photoshoot. They were Valentine’s Day themed, with your body swathed in red and white lingerie, surrounded by rose petals and soft silk sheets. In your hands, you held a pink, plastic bow and arrow, making you look like a particularly sexy cupid.

Biting back a grin and a sound of excitement, you sent your favorite of the photos to Lloyd, then quickly replaced your phone against your ear, holding your breath while you waited with eager anticipation for his reaction.

You were rewarded a few seconds later with a choked groan and a muttered curse from your boyfriend. If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve thought he was in pain, but then his lust-soaked voice filled your ears.

“Fuck, angel, look at you,” he cooed down the line, sending little shivers of delight racing beneath your skin. “You look so fucking gorgeous—so perfect and pretty and…” He trailed off, his words dissolving into another restrained groan, like he was biting his hand to muffle the sound. “Is this all for me? Is this my Valentine’s Day present, sweets?” 

“Yeah,” you said softly, almost shyly, unable to wipe the grin off your face. The rest of your words left you in a rush of excitement. “Do you like it? I wanted to give you something you’d like even though you’re on your work trip.”

“I love it, buttercup,” Lloyd purred. 

His deep voice made you shiver with a desire that you knew was going to go unslaked until your boyfriend got home. No matter how much phone sex the two of you had, it was never quite as satisfying as having Lloyd with you in person, bending you over and taking you hard and deep…

Lloyd kept talking then, distracting you from your dirty thoughts with a surprise of his own.

“I got you something, too, pumpkin. Open your door.”

Excitement shot through your body and you bounced eagerly off your bed. You didn’t think much of his words, it wasn’t uncommon for Lloyd to send you little presents while he was on his work trips—coffee and pastries delivered to your door in the mornings to help you start your day, some jewelry or a book in the evenings because he was thinking of you. 

“Oohh, did you get me flowers, Lloyd Hansen?” you chattered happily, padding through your apartment to the front door. “Some chocolates? One of those giant stuffed teddy bears?” You paused, glancing around your cramped and cozy space, wondering where you would even put a giant teddy bear. 

Your boyfriend just chuckled softly on the other end of the line, not giving anything away. Your excitement to know what he’d gotten you rushed back in, and you turned to the door again, eager to see what he’d sent you.

Flinging open the front door of your apartment, you were stunned to find not flowers or chocolates or a teddy bear, but Lloyd Hansem himself. He wore a familiar smirk on his handsome face, his blue eyes glittering with mischief in the fluorescent lights of the hallway, his phone still held up to his ear. 

“LLOYD!” you screamed, your phone slipping from your fingers and tumbling loudly to the floor as you launched yourself at your boyfriend. “You’re here.” The words came out much softer as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar, spicy scent of his cologne. 

“Did you really think I’d let you spend our first Valentine’s Day alone?” he teased you playfully, one of his arms banding around your back while his other hand cupped the back of your head, holding you tightly against his chest. He walked you backward into your apartment, kicking the door shut behind him. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here with you, muffin.”

His words filled your heart with joy, and you wrapped your arms tighter around his shoulders, clinging to his big, strong form while he slowly twirled the two of you around, like you were dancing to a silent slow song. You were so happy, it took you a moment for reality to crash back down around you. 

“But I wasn’t expecting you,” you whined into Lloyd’s neck, remembering that your face was entirely bare of makeup and you were wearing the same thing you’d had on all week—a pair of leggings and one of Lloyd’s shirts, even though his cologne had long since worn off. “I’m not pretty right now,” you mumbled, hiding your face against Lloyd’s throat.

Lloyd gently eased you away from his body, having to pry your clinging arms loose, so he could rake his eyes over your bare face. He smiled, his mustache twitching a little, and his blue eyes sparkled with nothing but genuine affection. 

“You’re gorgeous just like this, pretty girl,” he cooed, ducking forward and pressing a kiss to your lips. Then he brushed kisses to your cheeks and forehead, even dropping a kiss to the tip of your nose, making you giggle. “You make a very sexy cupid, but you’re always my gorgeous girl.”

“Thank you, Lloyd,” you said on a soft sigh of contentment, dragging him in for a proper kiss.

His mustache tickled your upper lip in the way that you’d grown to crave, and you moaned at the familiar, delicious taste of your boyfriend. Pulling him even closer with your fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket, you kissed him harder, pouring all the affection and happiness you felt about having him home into the way your mouth moved against his.

Kissing you back just as fervently, Lloyd walked you backward until you were pressed against the wall in your living room. He crowded in around you, pinning you to the wall with his big, hard body, his bulge jutting into your belly while he deepened the kiss, coaxing a burning inferno of need to life within you.

Before long, you were pushing impatiently at his jacket, wordlessly whining for him to take it off. Lloyd was only too happy to oblige, shedding the garment and tugging his shirt over his head, his mouth finding yours again for another hot, searing kiss.

His fingers hooked in the waistband of your leggings, shoving them down over your hips and thighs so you could kick them off. Then his hands came up to cup your face, cradling your head while he licked into your mouth, fucking you with his tongue until you were whimpering, desperately needing him to fill another of your holes. 

Quickly, Lloyd toed out of his shoes and stripped off his pants, leaving him in only a pair of boxer briefs, while you still wore a sweater and your panties. Glancing down at your shirt before he went back to kissing you, Lloyd’s hands pushed beneath your sweater, his fingers finding the soft flesh of your tits and kneading until you were breaking away to moan. 

“Is this my shirt?” Lloyd asked in a low, rumbling voice that was soaked with lust and a little hint of humor. He pressed hungry, nipping kisses along your jaw, pinching your nipples and making you squirm between his hard, unyielding body and the wall at your back. 

“Yeah,” you answered on a gasp. “I missed you,” you confessed, your hands curling around his bare shoulders, clinging to the muscles bunching beneath his warm skin while your head tipped back against the wall and you let out a low, keening whine. 

Lloyd made a gruff sound in the back of his throat, pulling away so he could look you in the eye. Your head was still tipped back, though, so he cupped your jaw in his hand and tilted it forward, his thumb running along your plump lower lip. 

You took the tip into your mouth and nipped playfully before sucking on Lloyd’s thumb, staring up at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes. You watched while his gaze darkened, his pupils blowing wide with a lustful hunger that made your body clench tight with anticipation. 

“I missed you too, baby cakes,” he rumbled, ducking his head to brush a kiss to the corner of your mouth. His mustache tickled and you giggled, turning your head and letting his thumb fall from your lips so you could kiss your boyfriend.

The kiss quickly turned heated again and it felt like both of you suddenly remembered how long it had been since you’d been joined together in the most primal way possible. There was an urgency in your movements as you impatiently tugged your boyfriend’s boxer briefs down, palming his cock while he tugged your sweater off and shoved your panties down your legs.

“Lloyd, please, I need you,” you gasped, wrenching your lips from his to suck in some much-needed air. The fingers of your free hand curled in the hair at the back of his head, clinging to him while stroked his cock, your thigh lifting and trying to curl around his hip. “Need your cock inside me, need you to fill me up, sir, please.”

“Fuck, alright, alright, lollipop—you want my cock, you’ll get it,” Lloyd rumbled, his hand grabbing your raised thigh and lifting it higher. His fingers dug into your plush softness while he hooked it around his hip and you guided his cock to your entrance. “Take it, honey bee, take your man’s cock.”

You sank down on Lloyd’s cock while he pressed into you, filling you up in one smooth stroke that had your head falling back against the wall and a filthy moan spilling from your lips. You weren’t quite wet enough to take him easily, but you enjoyed the slight burn and the ache of being stretched around his hard length too much to complain. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, doll face, looking so fucking blissed out on my cock,” Lloyd said on a grunt, pulling out slightly and pushing in again, making you both moan. “I could get used to this—coming home to you and filling your cunt while your body clings to me, sucking me deeper.” 

“Yes, yes, please, sir, I want that,” you babbled, the words falling from your lips and finding you did want it. You wanted Lloyd coming home to you every day, fucking you over the nearest surface and reminding you who you belonged to every night. “I want you filling me every day, fucking me, taking what’s yours.”

Lloyd chuckled, the sound deliciously sinful while he rocked into your body, fucking you against the wall of your apartment ruthlessly. All you could do was cling to him, your fingers curling in his hair, nails digging into the back of his neck while you held on for the ride.

“You want me to take what’s mine, sweet pea? Are you mine, sweet girl?” he teased mercilessly, fucking you even harder. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to say yes, you were his, but then Lloyd changed the angle of his hips. The base of his cock rubbed meanly against your clit with every thrust and you cried out loudly, your back arching away from the wall and your hips bearing down on his cock as you barreled toward your release.

“Lloyd,” you gasped, barely able to get the words out, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, cutie, cum for me,” Lloyd urged, fucking you in hard thrusts, pausing between each to grind against your clit  “Be a good girl and show me you’re mine, honey pie—cum all over my cock.” 

Between his commanding words and the relentless grinding of his hips, his cock buried to the hilt in your soaking wet pussy, it was too much. Your release crashed over you, making you scream in pleasure while you came on Lloyd’s cock, your inner walls clenching hard enough around him to make him grunt. 

With a few more short, hard thrusts, Lloyd followed you over the edge, burying his face in your neck and muffling a loud groan against your skin as he spilled inside you. Your pussy squeezed every last drop of cum from his length, the two of you collapsing against the wall at your back as you caught your breath and rode out the aftershocks of your releases.

Once you recovered enough to move, the two of you stumbled down the hall toward your bedroom, taking a quick detour to the bathroom to clean up before tumbling into bed together. Lloyd had snagged his shirt from where he’d dropped in your living room and he pulled it over your head, swaddling you in his scent before pulling you close to cuddle.

Your boyfriend lay on his back, your body splayed across his chest, your ear pressed to his sternum while you listened to the steady beat of his heart. After a short time of enjoying each other’s presence, you raised your head, your eyes greedily raking over Lloyd’s handsome face while your fingers played idly with his mustache. 

“Thank you for cutting your trip short,” you murmured softly, your eyes fixed on Lloyd’s mouth, watching the corners flicker with a smile. “I really didn’t expect you to that just for Valentine’s Day.” 

“I did it for you, sweetheart,” Lloyd purred, his fingers closing around your wrist and bringing your fingers to his lips, pressing kisses to the pads of each one until you looked up into his eyes. His gaze was filled with so much affection, it made your breath catch in your throat. He murmured, “I love you.”

It was the first time either of you had said those words and you were surprised by the rush of emotion that flooded your heart when you heard them. Tears pricked at your eyes and you quickly dashed them away. 

“I love you, too, Lloyd,” you murmured, pulling your hand away from his mouth so you could replace it with your lips. You kissed him hard, and he did the same, banding an arm around your lower back and cradling your head while he rolled on top of you. 

When he started kissing down your neck, you tipped your head to the side and let out a delighted giggle at the way his mustache tickled your skin. You felt like you were bubbling with happiness, and you couldn’t help the words that came out of your mouth. 

“So I guess I really did match you with your true love, didn’t I?” you teased playfully, enjoying the way Lloyd laughed against your skin, making your pulse pump harder through your body. “Another satisfied cupid customer,” you joked, your legs wrapping around Lloyd’s hips and squirming beneath his hardening cock.

“Oh I’m very satisfied,” Lloyd said, lifting up to capture your lips in another kiss. His hips rocked between your thighs, grinding his cock against your soft pussy, making both of you moan at the pleasurable slide of your bodies. “You can be my cupid anytime, sugar pie, as long as you’re the one I end up with.”

“Always,” you purred, clinging to Lloyd while he slid inside you again. Then he was stealing your breath with another kiss, fucking you in slow strokes, savoring your body and murmuring his love against your lips. 

All told, it was the first of many happy Valentine’s Days with your boyfriend—and future husband—Lloyd Hansen.

[earlysunshines]

secret rhymes - 39. victorian child (half-written)

a/n: fun fact i have been sick for the past WEEK. my voice has been so so so raspy and dead and i literally sound like im gonna die and or smoked thirty packs of cigs AND im also coughing like a bitch. yeah. ik a bowl of congee HATES to see me coming (I made a whole pot... i finished that pot in less than two days...)

hanni shuffles a bit and groans, stirring weakly beneath the covers. you’re worried that the rag in her forehead might slip off, so you hold it in place as she groggily blinks.

“what…” she nearly croaks. “i’m gonna be… late…”

“han, it’s okay. the rest of your group talked to the managers and called me here. i’ll take care of you for now, okay?”

“hyein?” hanni questions, pulling her blanket closer.

“…close?” you nearly chuckle.

“yunjin is that—“ hanni finally opens her eyes fully, taking in the sight of you—half amused and half worried—staring down at her. her eyes widen slightly. “y-y/n? what are you—“

“you’re burning up. you have a really high fever, one-o-one.” you sigh, looking at her with pity. “everyone was worried sick.”

“one hundred one degrees? how is that even possible—“

“—fahrenheit. you're not dead yet, don't worry.”

her face is already flushed from her fever, but when she fully registers you—the slight scrunch of worry in your brow, your hair cutely clipped behind your ears, and the loose koala graphic t-shirt you have on—her face is even more flushed under the cloth.

she can barely react, too exhausted and feverish to do anything more than stare and breath. she closes her eyes then, defeated, and sinks deeper into the bed.

meanwhile, you sit beside her, adjusting the cool compress on her forehead that slipped off while she had woken up. her skin is burning up, her breathing slow and heavy, and the way she barely stirs at your touch only makes your concern deepen.

the rest of her members had left her in your care, all of them thanking you like you had saved their lives.

("you're the best, seriously." minji says as she hugs you tight, pulling away and patting you on your shoulder. "I wasn't sure what we would've done... this album is really important and especially the song we have to record today."

"it's nothing." you say casually. "i feel bad that hanni can't go and record with you guys, but i feel even worse because she seems pretty unwell."

hyein gives you one last big hug, and then the rest of the group joins in to trap you. you giggle and hug them back, surprised and amused by the gratitude of the situation.

"i'm sorry for calling you so suddenly, you seemed really tired." hyein mumbles.

when she called you at nine in the morning (five minutes after you had to fight to wake up) you were more than just tired. an unknown caller id called you three times, the same amount of times it took you to respond with slight annoyance until you heard the familiar voice and realized it was hyein calling.

"it's fine." you respond, because after figuring out that you had to wake up for hanni, it was more than fine. "I'll take good care of her, thank you for trusting me with her and also with... uh, being in your dorm."

danielle shakes her head, then smiles. "after hearing about hanni talk about you so much and meeting you in person; you're very much welcome in our dorm anytime."

you smile even wider at that comment before ushering everyone out. "okay, go, go. i know how recording's can be, and how the schedules are, so go. i don't want you guys to get in trouble or anything." you urge. before they leave, they make sure to give you all their contact information to give and receive updates.)

you glance at your phone to see no messages from any of them, then back at hanni, watching as her lips part slightly with a soft breath. you sigh, adjusting the blanket so it sits over her shoulder before shifting to sit on the floor beside her bed, your back against the frame. it's quiet, other than the faint hum of the heater, occasional rustle of the sheets, and soft groans as she shifts slightly in her fevered sleep.

every few minutes you reach up to check the cloth, replacing it with a freshly dampened one and alternating between the two cloths four times. you don't mind waiting—watching over her like this, making sure she's okay.

and even though hanni is barely conscious, barely functional to form a thought through her exhaustion, she notices the way you linger and the feeling of the temperature on her forehead changing here and there. she notices every quiet action showing that you care.

—

a little over thirty minutes pass and you switch the rag on hanni's forehead one last time, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her damp skin before standing up. she barely moves, lost in her sleep, but you hesitate for a second before deciding to head out to the kitchen.

"i'll be back, han." you say softly, placing your hand on her shoulder.

the dorm is quiet, save for the occasional hum of the city outside. you roll up your sleeves as you get to the kitchen and unpack your tote bag, taking out each ingredient carefully. you begin chopping ginger, mushrooms, garlic, and pre-cooked chicken—staples for the congee you're making. the sound of the knife against the cutting board fills the space as you work, focused yet extremely mindful of who's resting in the other room.

fifteen more minutes pass and you've already started boiling the rice with your chopped ingredients. you're nearly done as is. suddenly, you hear soft, unsteady footsteps and turn, catching hanni in your sight as she emerges out from the hall.

she's wrapped in a crewneck and blanket draped over her shoulders, her eyes still heavy with exhaustion. she blinks at you, sluggish and dazed, before speaking tiredly,

"y/n, you… why are you... here?"

you immediately lower the heat and rush over to hanni, your hands hovering uncertainly between steadying her shoulders or guiding her back to bed.

she tilts her head slightly, looking at you through half-lidded eyes.

"you didn't answer me." hanni mumbles, giving in and leaning against you to support herself. "how did you even... get here?"

"you're going to pass out, you should've stayed in your room." you sigh, guiding her toward the couch gently. "hyein called me. she said you were sick, and I was worried." you adjust the blanket around her as she settles into the cushions, still looking up at you with something unreadable in her expression. "I came as soon as she called."

"but—"

"no." you interrupt, kneeling in front of her to get her comfy. "I only have a few online things for a class, so don't worry. i basically have a free day, why not spend it on you? just focus on getting better, han."

hanni doesn't argue. she just watches as you stand and return to the kitchen, resuming your work.

the warm scent of whatever it is that you're cooking fills the air while you season further. hanni pulls the blanket tighter around herself, gaze locked onto your back as you move. the way you check on her between stirring the pot, the way your brows knit while adding a few more mushrooms—it's like you were made to do this, to care and be attentive to even the smallest things.

something tugs at hanni's heart.

once the congee is finished, you ladle some into a bowl, letting the steam rise before setting it on the counter to cool. you run to hanni's room to grab the bowl with damp rags and return to her side, setting it on the coffee table as you sit next to her. you place the rag on her head against and she lets out a small sigh at the cool relief, her eyes barely open as she looks at you.

"the food is still hot," you murmur, reaching out instinctively. your hand finds its way to her cheek, brushing against her heated skin as you check her temperature.

hanni leans into your touch. it's barely a movement—soft, fleeting, and she probably isn't aware of it either—but you feel it like a spark. the warmth of her skin lingers against your palm longer than it should and your thumb brushes against her on its own. you swallow, but she doesn't seem to notice, too tired to register the weight of the moment.

you drop your hand after a second and she turns her head slightly on the couch, still watching you through drowsy eyes.

"thank you," she mumbles. "really... you didn't.. have to.. have to do all this."

you shake your head, leaning back slightly and meeting her with the same look she has in her eyes. "it's nothing."

"no, but i mean it," she insists, her voice barely above a whisper. "you took..." she breathes in slowly, sinking deeper into her blanket before continuing, "time out of your day just to come all the way here—to take care of me."

you let out a small laugh, shrugging. "well, you're a friend I care a lot about."

hanni blinks, something unreadable flickering in her tired eyes before she lets out a quiet hum. "i— thank you. I'm glad we're... friends."

you don't know how to respond to that. the way she says it feels like there's something more beneath the surface, but she's also terribly sick so you could just be overthinking everything. before you can dwell on it further, hanni shifts, resting her head against the couch.

"lucky me." she says softly, already halfway to sleep.

you exhale, watching as her breathing starts to even and her blinking get slower. "right," you start, "you have to eat something. i think it should be cooled." you look away from her, breaking the tension filled with something uncertain but not unwelcome.

hanni watches you grab the bowl and sit up, scooping a small bite and blowing on it a few times before holding the spoon towards her. she hesitates before finally parting her lips, eating without a complaint despite being sluggish.

"good?" you ask quietly.

she nods, chewing slowly. "mhm. you're a good cook."

"i know," you tease, earning a weak chuckle from her.

you bring up another spoonful, but before she takes it, you notice a bit of rice stuck at the corner of her lips. without thinking, you reach forward, brushing it away with your thumb.

hanni stills. her eyes flick up to yours, surprised, but she doesn't pull back. neither do you.

"you're being extra nice today," hanni mutters, voice tinged with something unreadable.

you huff a small laugh, reaching for a cup of warm water. "you're sick, hanni. what kind of person would I be if I wasn't?"

she lets you tilt her chin up slightly even when it earns a weird turn in her stomach. she also lets you assist her in sipping the water, wiping away at the drop that rolls down to her chin.

"i, uh, um. there was this, um, time." you start nervously, trying to break the dreadful tension in the air. "my friend back in new york, he... he got sick and his parents were away. i had to take care of him like this. so don't worry about... me taking care of you. it's nothing. i just want you to be okay hanni."

"you're lovely, y/n." hanni sounds and looks drunk with a mix of just completely tired. it's almost amusing how cute she looks.

for the next hour you sit beside her and finish some assignments on your laptop. every so often you glance her way, checking her temperature and switching out the rags. hanni doesn't say much, just watches you everytime she wakes up, eyes flickering between your hands on the keyboard and the quiet concentration on your face.

"i feel a lot better now," she finally says, breaking the silence and halting your typing.

you glance at her and smile. "yeah?"

she hums in confirmation, her eyes fluttering closed as sleep starts to take over.

hanni motions for you to scoot over, and if this were any of your other friends you'd tell them to back off because of their sickness—with hanni, you shift closer. and then she leans on you a bit, the weight of her head pushing against your arm. you don't say anything else, just watch as she drifts off, her features relaxed, her breathing soft and even.

she looks peaceful—so pretty even while she's overheating and feverish.

carefully—without moving your arm—you reach for the rag again, switching it out for a colder one. you do it over and over, making sure she's comfortable. even though the room is quiet, and even though she's asleep; you don't feel alone.

if anything, you feel closer than before. your heart can't decide if it likes the feeling or not.

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[dearestval]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 — ayato

notes: no specific gender but implied female reader (you get called lovely like once), reader has a dad who’s a high ranking official in inazuma, this is literally my first time writing in like a year i hope you enjoy it don’t mind my rusty skills i’ll get better i promise (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

The head maid found it unusually quiet in the halls of Tenshukaku. Normally she would hear the footsteps of the other maids walking about as they carried out their chores.

But as she walked past the west hallway, her questions were answered. At the end of the hall, all of the maids were crowded around the large doors that were open just a crack. The head maid knew there was a meeting between the Tri-Commision and other esteemed officials– but it’s not like these meetings were something the average person would find inherently interesting.

She walked towards the end of the hallway to reprimand the others for being off-duty, but before she could say anything, loud shouting came pouring from the meeting room, echoing in the halls.

“–so aggravating! You are a sorry excuse for a living being that not even nature wants to take credit for your very existence!”

You take a gasp of air after your long berating remarks. The room is silent, and every pair of eyes are looking in your direction. Not that you would know of course, your gaze only rests upon the blue-haired person sitting across from the table.

“Well,” Ayato rolls his eyes at you, not even bothering to meet your gaze, “it’s no wonder as to why your father cannot find you a suitable marriage candidate. Who else could stand to be around such a boisterous–”

“I swear, Ayato–”

“That’s Lord Kamisato for you. Or have you forgotten your manners again?” Ayato’s eyes shift towards you, an indifferent expression worn on his face.

“Manners don’t apply when I’m talking to a–” your colorful insults were interrupted by a loud slam on the table. Your eyes follow the source of the sound, only to meet Kujou Sara’s strong gaze. You feel yourself growing smaller in your seat, any feistiness you had quickly dwindled as you remember the environment you’re currently in.

“Alright, that’s enough. Both of you. Might I remind you two that you are in the presence of the Electro Archon herself?” Sara says, clearly fed up with the bickering. Though she didn’t yell at the two of you, the firm tone of her voice still carried weight to it. You sheepishly look around the room. On one end of the table, other government officials awkwardly avert their gaze from you. Seated at the other end you see an amused looking Guuji Yae, next to her the Raiden Shogun, her own expression aloof.

“Aww, what a shame– this was entertaining to watch,” Guuji Yae chuckles, before turning to the Raiden Shogun, “do let them continue, Ei. I’m having too much fun.”

The Raiden Shogun stands, her gaze unwavering as she looks between both you and Ayato. She looks towards him first.

“Lord Kamisato, please keep your provocations at a minimum. All of us are on the same side, doing our best for Inazuma. There is no need to chastise others.” She turns to you next, “And may I remind you that you are here simply to stand in for your father’s absence. Please do not do anything that would discredit his honor.”

Both you and Ayato murmur out small apologies before the meeting proceeds. You’re a bit embarrassed for your outburst in front of others, including Electro Archon herself. But you couldn’t help it. Ayato always found a way to get under your skin no matter the situation– whether it was at a festival or a fancy dinner party with other distinguished families, he never failed to seek you out and rile you up.

You tried your best to focus on the rest of the meeting, taking thorough notes to present to your father later. However, as the meeting went on, you felt as if there were a pair of eyes on you. Maybe you were being paranoid, but you couldn’t shake the thought that Ayato was staring at you. Yet every time you glanced in his direction, his eyes were always elsewhere.

Naturally, your thoughts kept drifting towards him and you found yourself having to refocus many times and pay attention to others. Even when you weren’t bickering with him, Ayato found a way to disturb you in silence– how typical of him.

You couldn’t thank the heavens more when the meeting finally concluded. Eager to get out of here, you quickly pack your things before thanking Raiden Shogun for her grace towards you today. Your footsteps felt almost lighter as you made your way out of the main building, but just like that, they felt weighed down as the voice you most dreaded to hear calls out your name.

Ayato appears by your side, paired with his smirk that you wanted to desperately wipe off his face.  “Someone sure got worked up today.”

“Do you ever take a day off?” you mumble, walking past him and down the stairs.

“And where do you think you’re going?” he asks, catching up to you to walk alongside you. You don’t know why he keeps trying to bother you, and frankly you’re not sure if you have enough patience to keep your composure, even out in public like this. You barely had enough to do so inside, and you were in the presence of the Electro Archon herself.

“Home, where else?” you respond, walking just a bit faster. But Ayato is relentless and matches his pace with yours. If anything, he’s having an easier time keeping up this pace than you are– a realization that only further infuriates you.

“Alone?” he lets out a small scoff, “Does your father not have guards escort you back?”

“It’s not a far walk back.” Yes, it was unusual for someone from a family as distinguished as yours to be walking alone without any form of protection, but truly your family’s estate was not that far. If anything, most of the journey home would be taken up by walking down all of the stairs in the courtyard just outside Tenshukaku.

“I’ll escort you back. And don’t even think about refusing.”

You sigh, slowing down to walk at a pace that’s far less exhausting. He was right, even if you did refuse him, your words couldn’t stop him from doing as he pleased.

“Whatever,” you murmur, giving up on the idea of a peaceful walk home.

“Besides, I’d be remiss if I allowed someone as lovely as yourself to be unaccompanied on their journey home.”

His words make you freeze. Ayato has commented many things about you, but lovely was never one of them. And for whatever reason, it causes your brain to go blank. You can’t help the way your stomach seems to be doing backflips at this simple compliment– and try as you might, you’re unable to hide it on your face.

Ayato sees your expression, a smug grin plastered on his face.

“Cute,” he chuckles, becoming more amused when he sees the way you grow more flustered.

Like you had mentioned earlier, the walk back to your family’s estate took no time at all. For whatever reason, a small part of you felt disappointed at how brief this walk was. You’re not sure why you would want to spend anymore time with Ayato, but you couldn’t deny it either. But here you are.

He stood before you, just in front of the main gates, smiling down at you. Though this time, it wasn’t the usual smirk that would always annoy you. No, this time it looks almost softer, something you’ve surely never seen from him before. The more you looked at Ayato, the less he looked like the arrogant bastard you were so accustomed to. Maybe it was a lighting trick, but in your eyes, Ayato appeared to be charming, handsome even. You could feel your heart beat faster, your mind in a frenzy as more and more thoughts about Ayato swirl in your head. And though you do your best to put on a poker face, to act cool and casual, you swear you could see it in his eyes that he can read right through you.

But he makes no comment about it. Instead he leans down slightly, bringing his face closer to yours.

“I hope you can take your father’s place again at our next meeting,” his voice is soft this time, and only full of sincerity. 

You can only nod in response, your words escaping you. As Ayato leaves, you can’t help but watch his figure up until it leaves your line of sight. And when you’re left alone, you press your hand to your cheeks. They’re incredibly warm. Perhaps you’re coming down with something, though deep in your heart you know it’s not that. But for now, you choose to push those thoughts aside.

As you make your way into the estate, you aim to find your father, wanting to propose a certain someone’s idea about the next meeting.

[calebslittleapple]

feels like home: sticky fingers

After a few weeks apart, Caleb reconnects with his Pip-squeak, only to find that she's pretty beaten up after a mission. Fortunately, Caleb knows exactly what to do to take care of his girl. From one moment to the next, everything changes, and what starts as an innocent interaction quickly evolves into something else entirely... two-shot, post club-interactions, but can be read as a standalone as well (though, this is part of my feels like home series).

Pairing: LaDS Caleb x MC (she/her)

Genre: Smut (with feelings); chapter one is M, chapter two is E; 18+

CW: Codependency; Pip-squeak as an endearment; MC is named "Emme" short for "Emme Sea" lmao; Finger Sucking; sensual massage; Vaginal Fingering; humping

Also on AO3

Chapter 1/2

After that dizzying night at the club, things settle back into the same old, same old, mostly because work’s been insane for both of them. At least, that’s what Caleb’s telling himself.

Naturally, he can’t stop thinking, feeling, reeling over the memory of his sweet girl, his beloved Pip-squeak, coming apart in his arms. Along with that, the way she’d woken early the day after, slipped from bed and made him breakfast.

That was normally his role to fall back into, but it was a domestic kind of sublime to walk into her kitchen, and see her standing there, cooking bacon, while wearing one of his t-shirts—old, stretched out, and way, way too big for her.

Caleb couldn’t put his finger on why, but he liked the way she looked in his clothes. Felt a bit like she was wrapped up in him. The possessive pieces of his heart shifted upon seeing her there, ever so slightly falling into place as if a simple moment like that could make his fractured heart whole once more.

They didn’t talk about what happened, because, of course, they didn’t. But she was different. A little surer in her touch and teasing. Hands lingered as the food was shared between them. Her eyes fell on his lips, the line of his neck, the broad stretch of his chest, which was purposefully emphasized by the two-sizes-too-small tank top he was wearing.

He flexed some, and she noticed that too. What was the point of having a physique like his, if not to show it off to the one person he’d crafted it for? Judging from the way her chewing stopped and how her eyes lingered, his many, many hours spent working out weren’t going to waste.

“See something you like, Pip-squeak?” he teased, but his voice was raspier than he’d thought it would be. Catching her staring was painfully intoxicating.

“Hmm?” she replied while shaking her head a bit. “What did you say?”

Caleb huffed out a laugh. “Pass the syrup.”

Picking up the nearby vessel, Emme quietly cursed as some of the sticky liquid sloshed over the edge and onto her fingers. After setting the syrup down, she stood and started to turn toward the sink, but Caleb caught her up in his gravity before she could move away.

“C’mere,” he murmured.

Shifting on her feet, she cocked her head at him, and Caleb couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes fluttered, just a little, as he let his power roll over her before pulling back.

Caleb held his hand out for hers. “Let me see.”

She swallowed, looked at her sticky fingers, and immediately focused on his lips. Caleb’s mouth curved into a knowing smile, which earned him a pretty pout.

“You’re terrible,” she breathed but held her hand out, anyway.

“Oh, c’mon, Pip-squeak,” he murmured, his warm hand gently skimming along the length of her forearm before curling around her wrist. “I know you like it when I’m bad.”

Her lips parted with a soft sigh that sounded anything but perturbed, pink tongue flicking out to lick her lips as her actions betrayed her thoughts.

“What are you going to do…?”

“You don’t know?” he asked while leaning closer to her hand, slow enough that she could pull back if she wanted.

He needed to prove something to himself, needed to prove that it wasn’t just the alcohol or the strange anonymity of that seedy club. Caleb needed to know that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

He could see it now, in the way she stood there, legs spread just a touch too wide, as if she was imagining what it might be like to fall into his lap and straddle his waist. Or maybe it was in how her hips switched, swaying almost the same way they had while she’d ground herself into his thigh the night before.

No, it was definitely in how glassy her eyes looked and the pretty flush on her cheeks. There was no alcohol coloring this interaction. What other places on her body would flush, he wondered. The tips of her nipples? The soft skin at the juncture between her legs and thighs? What about her ass? As decadently formed as it was, would her ass look even better with a bite mark… or two?

Caleb could feel himself growing hard in his gray sweatpants but was marginally relieved that he wouldn’t need to reach down and adjust himself this time. No distractions. Just her eyes locked on his as he pulled her hand closer and closer.

She didn’t gasp when he sucked her fingers into his mouth—index and middle; warm, sticky, and sweet. No, what she did was much, much worse than that.

Watching for every single reaction, Caleb swirled his tongue before delivering a long, soft suck, and his girl took in a halting breath, fluttered her fingers in his mouth, and fucking whimpered his name.

“C-Caleb!”

Broken, halting, haunting. He wanted to hear her say it again. To hear her say it while he pressed into her from above, while his head disappeared between her thighs, while he did every single thing he’d ever dreamed about doing to her, but dared not do.

They were growing closer and closer to the day when they would dare, and he was doing his best to be patient. He’d draw out every moment so when that day did come, when she finally gave in to her desires and realized that everything she’d been wanting was right before her eyes, it would be after he so thoroughly seduced her that she’d never think of denying either of them.

Ever. Again.

Caleb wasn’t a patient man, but he could play pretend with the best of them. For her, he would make the planet collapse in on itself if she but asked. But all she needed right now was patience and time. As his tongue swirled and his mouth pulled, he lingered there, and let her think of all the other places on her body that would feel oh so good if he ever got his lips, teeth, and tongue on them.

And he would. But, for that moment, he let her go and was not so secretly smug about the sweetly blissed-out look on her face, and the way she stumble-sat into her chair before picking at her food again, desperate to look somewhere, anywhere but at the face of the man she knew the best, and needed the most.

Weeks flew by. She texted, same as always. She called, and he answered on the second ring, same as always. But where once Caleb could soothe himself with the knowledge that he’d be able to see her soon enough, now he is consumed with the memories of their interactions and, more to the point, her reactions.

The clothes she left at his place for use during her visits no longer smell like her, likely because he spends most nights with his face wrapped up in them. The only peaceful rest he’s able to get is when she’s near. When he knows she’s safe. Now, her shirt and shorts just smell like him, and as much as he enjoys leaving his scent all over her space, he wants the same for his home.

Logically, Caleb knows that Linkon is a safer place for her, for a multitude of reasons, but the greedy, dark spaces of his heart want to keep her high in the sky, in Skyhaven with him. He’s smart enough to know how to keep her safe at his apartment. God, he’s done it before. But as good as it makes him feel to know without a doubt that she is safe, he can’t stand the look in her eye at that particular betrayal.

Just one more sin for the consummate sinner. But with her, ahh… It feels like he can find absolution in her arms. No matter how dark he gets, his girl will always be there to pull him back into the light. She promised him, just as he’d promised to always be there with him.

Finally, when Caleb thinks he’s at his wits’ end, he gets a text from Emme asking if he wants to meet up at her place on the weekend. Naturally, he agrees. Even if he didn’t have the time off, he’d have figured something out. He’s so excited about it that he decides to surprise her the night before, which isn’t uncommon for him.

So, with snacks and an overnight bag in hand, he lets himself into her apartment and waits for her to get back home from work. From how she tells it, she’s been overtime on something important. Caleb did some digging and managed to find out it had something to do with Wanderers convening just outside of the city limits.

It’s miserable work, as important as it is, and he worries because that’s who he is. Caleb wouldn’t be Caleb if he wasn’t worrying about his Pip-squeak. He’s just wired that way. And this time, he’s right to be concerned because when she finally gets back to her apartment at just after 2 a.m., she stumbles in.

Of course, she’s not entirely surprised that he’s there—who else would be watching movies this late in her living room, who else would know the security code to her suite, and who else would show up unannounced, like him—but she looks put out, all the same.

He watches her for a moment longer as she pauses at the entrance to her home, leaning against the doorframe as she breathes deep, head hanging heavy, body drooping… He’s moving before she can fall, her body pitching forward into his strong body instead of the floor.

“Whoa, Pip-squeak! What’s wrong?”

She looks up at him, and the dark smudges under her eyes, along with the scrapes on her cheeks and neck tell him everything he needs to know.

“Caleb.” One word spoken, half annoyance, half supplication. It’s all he needs. A moment longer, and she’s swept up into his arms.

“Let’s get you washed, dried, and cared for,” he says, sounding more competent and put together than he feels. In truth, his heart is pounding in his chest, and it’s taking everything he has not to drive over to the Hunter’s Association and ream out whoever is responsible for putting her in the situation that got her in this state.

Not that he’d dare leave her now.

He carries her through the small space of her apartment and walks them both into the bathroom. Her bathroom is cramped on a good day, and with the two of them in there, it’s even worse. She bats at his hands and tries to tell him she can manage on her own.

“I’m not a child.”

“Of course you aren’t, but you’re still my girl. How could I live with myself if I left you alone now? What if you fell in the shower, or worse?”

She frowns, but some of the roughness of that expression is smoothed away as she thinks about it.

“You owe me, then.”

“Oh?”

“Next time you get sick. You call me. You let me in. No excuses.”

Caleb sighs. Of course, she’d bargain for something like that. It’s not in his nature to show weakness, least of all to her, but he’d promise just about anything and mean it to keep her happy.

“Deal. Now, strip.”

She blushes at that, only for her lips to frown again.

“What?”

As Caleb eases her from his arms, she’s unsteady on her feet. “I really… just don’t think I can.”

“Need some help?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but very much feeling like his heart is going to explode.

“Promise not to get mad?”

“No.”

“Caleb!” she exclaims while giving him a halfhearted shove. “There’s just a few scrapes. And I’m sure I’ll be bruised tomorrow. But it’s nothing major, okay?”

“Okay. But you’re going to let me treat your injuries.”

She pouts. “Fine, but it’s mostly just… really sore muscles. I think a Wanderer was trying to tear my spine out…”

He hates the sound of that but manages to transfer some of his anger to the fastenings of her clothes, quickly and efficiently stripping the layers of her outfit from her body until she’s standing there in nothing more than her underthings and the bracelet he gave her.

He loves that no matter where she goes, she’s got a piece of him with her, but he keeps that bit of information to himself. She already has his heart. Any more leverage and she’ll have him following her like a puppy… more than he already does, that is.

Caleb tries to be level-headed about this, but it’s a challenge given how very fuckin’ long he’s dreamed about seeing her like this, albeit in very different circumstances. Still, he loves her, loves her more than he longs for her, even, so he schools his features, wills his body to calm down, and has his Evol prop her up while guiding her roughed-up body into the shower.

And though it’s strange, and not entirely logical, Caleb swears he can feel her pressing back into his gravitational touch, leaning into his power as he works to support her and not lose his damn mind. Maybe it has something to do with her Resonance. God knows it wouldn’t be the first time that their shared connection bridged the gap between fantasy and reality.

Once the shower curtain is closed, his power slips away, leaving her to stand on her own two feet.

“You good?”

“I’ve got the wall,” she says with a sigh. “Can you help me after I’m done?”

“Of course.”

She manages to take off the rest of her clothes. They fall to the floor of her shower with a soft thump.

“Want me to grab ‘em?”

“Everything’s filthy,” she admits. “Guts and blood and gore. I think I’m gonna burn them.”

Caleb chuckles and shakes his head. He’ll get the gore out for her. He’s good at that. Listening attentively, he makes sure to check in with her as she bathes. Truthfully, she’s sounding better, at least, until a soft hiss sounds from behind the curtain.

“Everything alright, Pip-squeak?”

“Just a very, very sore muscle.”

The water stops, and she gingerly peeks her head out from behind the curtain. She’s adorably drenched, and every part of him is itching with the need to care for her. He’s pleased to note that most of the blood is washed away, and doesn’t seem to belong to her.

Guts and blood and gore, indeed.

“I got a towel ready,” he says, spreading it out and turning his head so she can step out of the shower without having to worry about him leering.

Caleb swears she snickers at him, but she ducks into his arms and lets him wrap her in the towel, just the same. She’s swallowed up by an excess of plush fabric, with only her feet and head peeking out from the edges.

It almost reminds him of when she was young, and how after playing with the sprinkler and tiring herself out in the summer sun, she’d complain about being cold, only for Caleb to wrap her up in a towel and help her dry off.

Well, he’s not that boy anymore, and she’s certainly not that girl, and what they are to each other is so much more than childhood friends.

Still, he tugs at the edge of the towel and lifts it so that he’s better covering her neck. “Can you turn around? I’ll dry your hair.”

“The blow dryer is—”

“Beneath the sink, I know.”

With everything ready, he first works at detangling her hair with her paddle brush. Her work’s made a mess of her hair, but he’s good at this—the best, actually. He has to be because the last thing he wants is to cause her any more pain.

After her hair is detangled and pulled back, he slowly runs the blow dryer over it while combing it on low heat. He’d hate to damage her hair. Once her hair is mostly dry, he quickly pulls it into a braid. Another thing that he’s quite good at.

“Hair ties?”

She holds up her wrist.

“Hair ties that haven’t gone through hell and back?” he clarifies while tugging the band from her wrist and throwing it in the trash.

“Medicine cabinet.”

He gets what he needs, ties off her hair, and picks her up again. This time, she squawks a little, but he gently rubs his lips against the top of her head and softly begs, “Please? Let me help.”

And mollified by his words or his actions, she settles and lets her head fall against his shoulder. It doesn’t take long to get to her bedroom, the door of which he gently nudges open with his power.

Caleb settles her on the bed and walks over to her dresser. “What d’ya wanna wear?”

“Mmm, I have some clothes ready in the top drawer.”

Pulling open the heavy wooden drawer, Caleb is surprised to recognize her clothes as his. “I was wearing this the last time I visited.”

“Yeah, your clothes are comfier than mine.”

“The shorts aren’t mine,” he points out.

“Your shorts would slide down my legs. The shirt is big, but it’s sooo nice to sleep in.”

As Caleb tugs the shirt and shorts closer, he can’t help but notice that it still smells faintly of his scent.

“Didn’t you wash this, Pip-squeak?” he drawls.

“Oh. No…” She sounds embarrassed, and he’s just about to tease her for always leaving her dirty laundry for him to do when she soundly sucker-punches him with what she says next. “It still smells like you… So… that’s why.”

That soft admission has the air retreating from his lungs in a wicked rush, words hitting with precision impact. Caleb doesn’t turn to face her. He can’t. His fist is tightly clenched around his shirt—the one that smells like him—his eyes are closed, and his breathing is so erratic that he needs to take a moment to calm himself.

Of course, he keeps her clothes at his bedside when she’s not in his home, but to hear she does the same—no, that she wears clothes that smell like him to bed—makes him feel fucking feral. He is not a good man. Far from it. He is who he needs to be so that he can keep her safe.

But when the reality of her words hits, it shifts his intentions for the evening entirely. He’d meant to put her to bed with a heating pad after checking for wounds, and then go to make her something to eat. Now she’d be lucky if he let her sleep at all.

“Where’s that massage oil that Tara got you?”

“How do you know about that?!” she balks.

“She was bragging about it at your birthday party. She’s remarkably chatty when she’s been drinking.” Tara was remarkably chatty all the time, but she got downright obscene with alcohol. Caleb got the sense that she was intentionally making him aware of the oil, almost as if she was giving him a not-so-subtle nudge.

As if any of this was up to him. Still, the knowledge came in handy. He’s feeling not the least bit smug about it, at least, until she hits him with another jab. “It’s in the drawer of my bedside table.”

Caleb closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and specifically does not think about what that likely means.

He clears his throat, but his voice is still rough when he finally manages to ask, “Can you dress yourself?”

“I can manage. But what are you going to do with the oil?”

Caleb shakes his head, turns, and fixes her with a look. “Massage your legs, silly girl. You could barely stand earlier. They’re gonna be hellish in the morning if you don’t take care of them now.”

“You’d do that for me?” she asks, cheeks still flushed from her shower, and towel wrapped tight. She looks good enough to eat, and Caleb expects that if he doesn’t somewhat sate the beast inside of him, he’s going to make a meal of her sooner rather than later.

Caleb stands before her, bunches her shirt—his shirt—up, and slides the top over her head. “Can you manage the rest?”

She nods, and he turns around to give her some privacy. “The shorts?”

“I can manage,” she replies, but her groans make his stomach twist with concern.

“They’re working you too hard.”

“My job is hard. This is what I signed up for.”

“Then you need to do a better job of taking care of yourself during your days off.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“I think ‘Daddy’ would be more fitting.”

“Caleb!” she squeaks. “Don’t say things like that.” But she certainly doesn’t sound as scandalized as she should…

“All right, all right. I’m sorry. You finished?”

“…Yeah, I got it.”

Caleb turns, tilts his head, and gives her a look. Her hair’s messed up now from the shirt, and she looks tired. A perfect pout greets his smile.

“Poor baby,” he softly croons. “Lay back and let me take care of you.”

He can see her swallow at that, like she’s having a hard time making her vocal cords work. “You’re just taking advantage of my weakness.”

“Naturally. How else am I gonna get you to understand that you need me?”

She huffs at that. “You need me just as much as I need you, Caleb.”

He snorts softly, teeth pressing into his tongue, before he softly admits, “You have no idea… Now, no more stalling.”

Caleb points to the bed, and she dutifully scoots back onto the sheets, albeit slowly and with effort. He manages to dig out the oil from her dresser and pointedly ignores literally everything else that’s hidden away in there because he won’t be able to behave if he does otherwise.

“I guess I should have grabbed the oil,” she starts to say.

He frowns. “Why?”

“Oh… never mind.”

“Something you don’t want me to see in there?”

She nibbles her lip, eyes fluttering softly as she murmurs, “Maybe… maybe not.”

The look she gives him is so coy and tempting that his mind goes completely blank and he utterly forgets what the hell he’d been in the middle of doing. At least, until she points to the oil.

“Are you gonna massage my legs or…?”

“Yeah… yeah. Right. Roll over, Pip-squeak. Lemme see where it hurts.”

She rolls over and Caleb’s eyes trail reverently over the length of her legs. She looks good. Too good. He hates that her coworkers get to even see a measure of this. Of course, he knows it’s insane to want to be the only one who can appreciate her, but his greedy heart feels it just the same.

“You been workin’ out more lately?”

“Hmm? Why?”

“Things look… tight,” he rasps, voice betraying his interest and desire.

Her reply is soft and teasing. “Someone did make me join that squat challenge last month. And here, I thought you had ulterior motives, but you’re acting all surprised.”

Caleb coughs to cover up some of his embarrassment and dispel a measure of his lust. Yeah, he had gotten her to agree to that challenge. Honestly, he’d been grasping for things to say, because he caught her right after a workout and the fine mist of sweat on her brow, along with the gorgeous flush in her cheeks, had him thinking of exercise of a different kind.

And here she’d taken him seriously.

“Gonna be as strong as me soon,” he manages while stepping closer to the bed. Her legs are spread on either side of him, and for one long moment, he doesn’t know what to do, or where to look next.

“Doubt it. Your legs are too long, and your thighs are too strong.”

“Been thinking about my thighs, baby?”

He’s teasing, sweet, and he means to catch her off guard, but she hits back so hard as she replies, “Yeah, your thighs… and other parts of your anatomy.”

Caleb sighs, long and hard. Says a prayer for courage to whoever happens to be listening, the Gods of the earth and the sea and space, or otherwise, and then, he gets to work. He kneels on the floor at the edge of the bed, and he’s tall enough that this gives him a good vantage point. He knows exactly what he wants to do next, and he’s as ready as he’ll ever be.

 “Tell me if it hurts.”

~~~

Author’s Note:

Sorry, this was so big that I had to cut it into two chapters because I hate editing and I got busy with other stuff. I’ll post the other chapter tomorrow, so you can have something to enjoy (I hope) over the weekend. The second part is spicier :D

I listened to the hipsterist hipster music for this one to get me into the right headspace, please enjoy haha. Also somewhat inspired by what has to have been the most painful massage I’ve ever had in my LIFE (did not have the same ending, there was only pain lmao, but I was like hmm maybe Caleb would be good at massages for MC, and then, PAIN). Also Deeply inspired by that secret times where Caleb takes care of MC when she’s sick. Like GOD DAMN, Caleb. “You’re worried I’ll spoil you rotten. Too late for that!” ??? ARE YOU KIDDING ME????

Also, not that it matters in the slightest, but I wrote this before I learned it’s canon that she likes to keep his clothes around (and wear them???) because they smell like him. They’re just really transparent with how fucking down bad these two are for each other lmao.

Still really fucking obsessed here, guys. Chokehold, I think is a good way to put it. Caleb is a mf bias wrecker, like oh my literal GOD. I swear, some of these are gonna be from MC’s pov, but I’m working through some SHIT rn lol.

I also gave the MC a little name, “Emme” which is short for Emme Sea lmao. I have a challenging time with writing y/n or like using second person present tense. No judgment or anything like that, it just makes it hard for me to think of the characters properly when I’m writing them. ANYWAY, I’ll use it sparingly, but sometimes, it’s just better to have a name lol.

Anyway, thanks so much for reading! And extra hugs for anyone who left a comment. You are the apple of my eye, and thank you for giving me a space to channel this whatever it is? Obsession lmao. I’ve got a few other interludes planned (shower), and I’m taking requests (on tumblr), so either give this/me a follow, or check up on my tumblr :) If you enjoyed, I’d love to hear from you! Or feel free to share with a friend, if you’re lucky enough to have some Caleb-obsessed friends haha.

Don’t forget! I'll be posting any updates as installments (not chapters), so be sure to sub to the series or my user name to get updates on ao3, or just check my tumblr, i'll post here too♥️🍎

[sillyuin]

Have you seen my cat?

Genre: fluff, meet cute.

Pairing: Minghao x reader.

Yuin's note: I would love to write and develop this idea further but idk, let me know what you think.

It had already been more than three days since the last time you knew anything about him. The apartment felt strange even though all your things were in the same place, but he wasn’t there, and you were already starting to notice the difference.

You sighed deeply, sinking into the living room couch and staring at the horizon through the window in front of you. The tall buildings partially blocked the sunset, while you, in the same way, felt like you were fading away. That gloomy feeling stayed with you until you went to sleep.

The next morning, you got up with new strength and decided to look after him, it didn't even matter that you didn't know where to start your searching. After a routine workday at the office, you returned with the search for his whereabouts. However, just like the previous days, there were no results.

Head down, you took a seat in the outside garden of some house, and as you watched the sunset of the fourth day without him, thick tears filled your eyes and you didn't bother holding them back. But then, a voice interrupted your thoughts.

That person cleared their throat. “Good afternoon, do you need anything?”

You jumped in your seat and tried to dry your tears. “I’m sorry, I just… I was tired.”

You looked up with a certain fear, thinking you’d meet the angry face of some man annoyed that a stranger was sitting in his property. However, you found a young man standing next to you, his face glowing with curiosity and innocence. For a moment, he reminded you of him…

 “I don’t want to bother you, but…” his voice was calm and gentle, “if you need help, you can tell me, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

He extended his hand toward you and offered a friendly smile before introducing himself. “My name is Xu Minghao, and I’m the owner of this nursery.”

You shook his hand and after saying your name in a whisper, you glanced toward the house behind you and your eyes couldn’t believe how such a beautiful garden had gone unnoticed by you.

Despite being your first time appreciating that magical place, you’d already heard his name (apparently quite popular in the small town) mentioned by your coworkers, as the couldn’t stop talking about the handsome young man who ran the old nursery a few blocks away, caring for the plants as if they were his own family.

But it wasn’t just his elegant demeanor or the way he smiled—there was something else that left you speechless and for a moment, he made you forget your intrusive thoughts. But it was only for a very brief moment…

You stood up and took a deep breath to calm yourself. “Excuse me… You…”

His gaze and his full attention were on you, and it made you a little anxious.

“It’s okay, I’m listening.”

“Have you seen my cat?”

Minghao tilted his head slightly, and his eyebrows furrowed in the middle. “Your cat?”

You rummaged through your bag, looking for your phone, and showed him your wallpaper. “This is my cat. He’s been missing for more than three days.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, it must be terrible for you.”

You didn’t respond, just lowered your gaze and nodded slowly. It was very difficult to put into words how much you missed his presence, coming home and being greeted by his purring, or the way he curls up with you for bedtime.

Small tears started to fill the corner of your eyes, and the last thing you wanted to do was to make that kind man feel uncomfortable with your presence, and before you could just run away, he spoke.

“Let me do something for you.”

“Something… for me?”

“Yes, let me help you,” he said, stepping back slightly and extending his hand as an invitation. “Come in.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t, I’m in a hurry, and…”

“It won’t take long, I promise.”

You swallowed hard, thinking about how much you simply wanted to turn around and leave, but you nodded, and with some hesitation, stepped into the garden.

“I’ll give you a gift,” he explained, walking ahead of you, “to keep you company in these difficult times.”

You shrugged and made a slight grimace. “Thanks, but I’m not good at taking care of plants.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he turned to give you a smile, “I have a friend that I’m sure you can take care of.”

You gave a faint smile. “A… friend?”

Minghao said nothing, just gestured for you to come closer. When you took a few steps toward him, you heard a very familiar sound coming from nearby. Behind a flowerpot, a white, fluffy tail stretched out, and when you called his name, it revealed itself as a white cat that happily ran toward you.

“I was starting to worry about his owner,” Hao said to himself.

You were so happy to see him again—the only friend you had in that city—that you forgot about Minghao for a moment. “Don’t run off like that again, please,” you murmured, cuddling the cat in your arms. “I missed you so much, Vanilla.”

“I found him three days ago, sleeping on a sack of seeds” Hao explained. “And I guess he liked my food, because he didn't leave”.

“Thank you for taking care of Vanilla” you said with a bright smile, “He’s such a docile cat and I was afraid someone might have hurt him.”

“It was my pleasure to have his company. Actually, it made me think that I should adopt a cat for me.”

“Oh, can I go with you?” you blurted out, just to end up shrugging in shyness. “You know, I have one, and… I know a thing or two.”

Hao smiled and tilted his head slightly, his deep gaze resting on you with curiosity and perhaps, just perhaps, something a little further. “How about this weekend? At two in the afternoon”

You nodded slowly, unable to articulate a word. The silence lingered for a few seconds, during which the two of you simply held each other’s gaze, until you felt a soft warmth on your cheeks, trying your best not to smile.

“Saturday, at two!” you stammered as you walked towards the exit of the garden. “I’ll come pick you up!”

And as you turned to leave he called out your name, making you slowly turn on your heels.

“Remember to put an address on Vanilla’s collar,” Hao hesitated a little, “you know… If he comes by again… I know where to go.”

[redrose10]

so i was told 'maybe in another life' pt. 2 was a possibility and here we are.... PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU GIVE ME A PART TWO AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

I hope this lives up to your expectations…

There will be another part to this one too. Sorry

This is a part 2/continuation of this one here.

Non Idol Yoongi x Loan Shark Female Reader. Soulmate AU

Warnings: Violence, guns, kind of suggestive, mentions of orphanage, murder, swearing, name calling

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

Over the years, lifetimes really, you grew to hate the idea of soulmates. You used to think the idea was sweet. The thought of being tied to someone else so tightly that destiny would force the two of you together somehow seemed romantic. If only your other half had felt the same way.

The last time you saw Yoongi in person he was a famous idol that you happened to have to work with while he was completing his required military service. Once again he rejected your soulmate status though. He told you to move on and find someone else like he had. Because just like he said he would, he married another woman who wasn’t you. She was an idol just like him. Famous, talented, and beautiful. The wedding photos that were plastered in every magazine and all over the city were beautiful. Even you couldn’t deny that he looked at her with so much love and affection, something you never saw from him. They ended up having two kids, a boy and a girl. He had his own little happy family while you struggled every day to get by. Yoongi went on to live a long successful life filled with fame, money, and happiness from what you could see.

You can still remember the way you felt the day you saw the news of his passing. There had always been a part of you that hoped that maybe he would realize his love for you, especially after it was announced that him and his wife had divorced. Then the two of you could be together and finally put an end to the lifetimes of suffering you had endured, but you never saw him in person again.

And in that moment as you stared at his smiling face plastered on your tv screen while the newscaster discussed the upcoming funeral it sealed the deal and forced you into yet another life once your current was over.

In this new life you no longer cared to find Yoongi and instead accepted the fact that you would be forced to live a million different lives possibly for eternity. All of this lead you to be the cold, bitter, ruthless person you had become today.

“Please!”, the man in front of you sobbed, “I’ll get the money. I promise. Just give me another week.”

You pushed the end of the pistol a little harder into his forehead sure to leave a mark. “That’s what you said last week.”, you spat, “I’m out of time. The boss wants his money or a body. Which is it gonna be?”

“Please. I’m begging you. I’ll have it next wee-“

The man dropped to floor lifeless as you put away your still smoking gun. “Clean this up and get him over to the boss.”, you ordered to one of your men before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one up.

The first time you killed someone you cried yourself to sleep that night. Their crying, sobs of desperation, the way they called for their mother… You had nightmares for weeks. But now, years later, it was just another day on the job. Tonight you will go home, crack open a beer, and forget everything that just happened. It was the only way to survive.

“Let’s go. Boss sent the next location.”, one of your men spoke from the doorway, “Said it’s a big one.” You nodded and put out your cigarette before following behind.

You don’t exactly remember how you ended up as one of the lead loan sharks for the biggest and fiercest mob boss this side of the planet, but somehow you got there. You were orphaned at a young age. Bounced around from home to home most of which not equipped to properly provide for you which resulted in stealing to get what you needed. One evening you smelled something that made your stomach growl even harder than it had been. A steaming loaf of fresh baked bread was left out in front of a bakery to cool. You were starving and cold and after making sure no one was looking you grabbed it and ran. You didn’t get very far before two men caught up to you grabbing you by your arms. They carried you back to that same storefront and into one of the back rooms where you were thrown on the ground.

“We don’t tolerate thieves around here.”, someone spat before forcing cold metal against your head. You closed your eyes not having the strength or motivation to fight back and hopelessly just wished for it to be over soon. You heard another voice enter the room demanding the gun to be put away. After some protests by your captor and a stern warning from the other man the gun was removed from your skin and the grip around your neck loosened. The man who saved you left the room without a word. You never even opened your eyes to get a look at him.

Before you knew it you were being driven to a large mansion just outside of the main city. You were given a bedroom and clean clothing. Three meals a day were provided which was more than you’d ever had. All of this was free of charge, you just had to promise to sign your life away to someone they only referred to as The Boss.

Regardless of what others think, to this day you’ve never seen him. Haven’t heard his voice since that day he demanded your release in the back of the bakery he used as a front for a gambling ring. You agreed to work for him because you had nothing else to loose and now many years later you were his top worker being trusted to lead his teams while doing all of his dirty work. It gave you a comfortable life by keeping you fed and housed and most of all kept your mind busy to the point you hardly ever thought about Min Yoongi.

“Ready? Boss says he wants this one alive if he refuses to pay. Wants to take care of him hisself. Guess this one has been extra mouthy.”, Baek said next to you. Baek was your right hand man. One of the few people in this business you trusted.

“Good, means we can be a little extra rough. I need to let off some steam anyways.”, you sighed checking to make sure your gun was loaded.

In the middle of an old abandoned factory you found a group of your men standing in a circle hurling insults and expletives, a few threw in a kick or punch at the man who was on his knees with his hands tied behind his back and a blindfold blocking his vision.

“Alright boys, step aside.”, you said pushing your way through the crowd of taller bigger men that you were never afraid of.

“Great. The princess is here.”, one of them groaned. “Wonder how often she has to fuck the boss for him to keep her around.”, another scoffed. You cocked your gun and pointed it directly in the middle of his forehead, “Who I fuck and when or where I fuck them is none.of.your.business.”

“Whoa whoa whoa Y/N let’s put the gun down. It’s late and we need to get this over with so we can all go get some rest.”, Baek said while he gently, but firmly forced your hand down.

“Yeah watch your mouth bitch.”, another in the crowd said, but before you could figure out who was the culprit someone else decided to interject.

“I’d be happy to keep her mouth occupied for a while.”, the man on his knees said making your stomach twist into a knot. That voice was oddly familiar.

Your head whipped to the side so fast you lost balance and when you composed yourself and got a good look at him you froze.

That smirk. You could recognize that smirk anywhere. That same smirk has haunted your dreams for centuries.

[scoupsakakitty]

Chapter 2: Cracks in the Foundation

Y/n knew something was wrong when Se-Hun didn’t reply the next day or the day after that. She stared at her phone in the back of the van as they drove to another schedule, her heart heavy. The distance between them felt bigger than ever, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe… maybe they weren’t the same as they used to be.

“Hey, stop overthinking,” Dino said from beside her, nudging her gently. He always seemed to notice when she was in her head too much.

She forced a small smile. “I’m not.”

“You totally are,” he said, smirking. “It’s written all over your face.”

“Let her overthink,” Mingyu teased from the front seat, turning around to face them. “She’s probably planning how to outshine all of us at the next performance.”

The teasing brought a small laugh out of her, but it didn’t ease the weight in her chest.————————————————————————————-The rest of the day passed in a blur of rehearsals and photoshoots. Y/n pushed herself to stay focused, ignoring the ache in her heart. But during one of their breaks, she found herself scrolling through old messages with Se-Hun.

There were so many moments when he used to check on her, ask her about her day, or send her small notes of encouragement before a big performance. But now… those messages felt like a distant memory.

“Everything okay?” a voice asked.

Startled, she looked up to see Scoups standing a few feet away, holding a water bottle. His tone was calm, but his eyes held the same careful concern she’d seen the night before.

“Yeah,” she said quickly, locking her phone and stuffing it into her pocket. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he held out the water bottle. “You’ve been working hard. Don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

She hesitated before taking it, mumbling a quiet, “Thanks.”

As he walked away, she felt a strange sense of comfort. Scoups didn’t say much, but his presence always felt steady like an anchor in the chaos of their lives.————————————————————————————-That evening, as they returned to the dorms, y/n was greeted by the sight of the other members sprawled across the living room. Someone had already ordered food, and the smell of fried chicken filled the air.

“Y/n, come eat!” Hoshi called, waving a drumstick in the air.

She smiled and joined them, sitting between Dino and Mingyu again. The conversation was loud and chaotic, as always, but it felt good. For a moment, she could forget about everything else.

Until her phone buzzed.

Her stomach tightened as she picked it up, only to see another short message from Se-Hun:

Sorry, can’t talk this week. Hope everything’s okay on your end.

She stared at the screen, her appetite disappearing.

“Bad news?” Dino asked, leaning over to peek at her phone.

She quickly locked it. “No, just… something personal.”

He frowned but didn’t say more, respecting her space.————————————————————————————-Later that night, y/n found herself alone in the practice room again. She couldn’t sleep, and dancing was the only thing that ever seemed to clear her mind.

She put on a slow track, something softer than their usual upbeat routines, and let herself move freely. Her steps weren’t polished or perfect, but they felt real an expression of everything she couldn’t put into words.

Halfway through the song, she heard the door open behind her. Startled, she turned to see Scoups standing there, his arms crossed.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

She shook her head, a little embarrassed to be caught. “I just needed to clear my head.”

He nodded, stepping further into the room. “Mind if I join?”

Y/n blinked, surprised. “You dance when you can’t sleep?”

He laughed softly. “Don’t look so shocked. I’m not as bad as you think.”

They spent the next hour moving to the music, not talking much but sharing the space. Scoups wasn’t the best dancer, but there was something calming about his presence. For the first time in days, y/n felt herself relax.

As the music faded, they both sat down on the floor, catching their breath.

“You’re carrying a lot right now,” he said quietly.

Y/n froze. She didn’t know how to respond to that didn’t even know how he always seemed to see through her so easily.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she said finally, though her voice lacked confidence.

Scoups didn’t push. He just gave her that small, reassuring smile that made her chest feel a little less heavy.

“Just remember,” he said, standing up and offering her a hand, “you don’t have to handle everything alone.”

She took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. For a moment, she held onto it longer than she needed to, finding comfort in his steady grip.

“Thanks,” she said softly.————————————————————————————-The morning routine in the Seventeen dorms was as chaotic as ever. Members stumbled out of their rooms, hair sticking out in every direction, while Mingyu tried to cook breakfast and half-burned the toast. Y/n sat at the dining table, staring at her untouched bowl of cereal.

“Yah, Mingyu, stop burning everything!” Jeonghan groaned, waving a towel at the smoky kitchen.

“I’m not burning it—it’s just… toasted extra,” Mingyu argued, pulling out a piece of bread that was more charcoal than food.

The chaos brought a small smile to y/n’s face, but it quickly faded when her phone buzzed again. Her heart leapt for a moment, but when she saw the notification, it wasn’t Se-Hun. Just a reminder of the group’s schedule for the day.

“Y/n, you okay?” Dino asked, plopping down next to her with a plate of scrambled eggs.

“Yeah,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

“You’ve been tired a lot lately,” he said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re not sick or something?”

“I’m fine, really,” she insisted.

Before Dino could question her further, Scoups walked into the room, looking surprisingly alert for someone who barely slept. His gaze flickered to y/n for a brief moment, and she swore she saw a hint of concern in his eyes before he looked away.

“We’re leaving in thirty minutes,” he announced to the room. “Don’t be late.”————————————————————————————-The day’s schedule was packed. Dance rehearsals in the morning, followed by vocal training, then a fitting session for their upcoming concert in Japan. Y/n barely had time to think, which was a blessing.

But during lunch, the group gathered in the company’s lounge, and the conversation turned to relationships.

“So, y/n,” Hoshi said, grinning as he leaned over the table, “how’s your boyfriend doing? What’s his name again… Se-Hun?”

Y/n froze, her chopsticks hovering in midair. “He’s… fine,” she said quickly, trying to sound casual.

“Are you sure? You don’t talk about him much anymore,” Vernon said, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s because she’s busy, duh,” Dino cut in, throwing a protective arm around her shoulders. “She’s got us to take care of, right, y/n?”

She laughed awkwardly, grateful for the save, but Scoups’ quiet gaze lingered on her from across the table. She avoided his eyes, focusing on her food instead.————————————————————————————-Later that evening, after they returned to the dorms, y/n found herself in her room, staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t stop replaying the conversation at lunch in her mind. Were the others noticing the cracks in her relationship with Se-Hun? Did they think something was wrong?

Her phone buzzed, and for the hundredth time that day, she grabbed it, hoping it was him.

It wasn’t.

Instead, it was a photo notification. She opened it, and her breath caught. It was an image of Se-Hun… with another girl. They were sitting in a café, leaning close to each other, laughing.

Her heart pounded as she stared at the photo. She recognized the girl he’d mentioned her once before, said she was a study partner. But this? This looked like more than studying.

She sat up quickly, her pulse racing. Without thinking, she pressed his number and hit “call.”

The phone rang twice before he picked up. His voice sounded distracted. “What’s wrong, y/n? I’m in the middle of studying.”

Her grip tightened around her phone. “I got a picture of you with some girl. Who is she?”

There was a pause on his end. “What picture? What are you talking about?”

“You’re at a café with her,” she said, her voice rising slightly. “She’s leaning in like—like you’re on a date or something. What is this, Se-Hun?”

He sighed audibly. “That’s So-Yeon. She’s my study partner. We’ve been preparing for exams together. You’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” y/n repeated, her tone sharp. “Do you even realize how this looks? People are sending me pictures, asking questions—”

“Y/n,” he interrupted firmly, “she’s just a friend. You need to calm down. I don’t have time for this right now.”

“Calm down?” she snapped, her voice louder now. “How am I supposed to feel calm when I barely hear from you, and then I see this?”

His tone softened slightly, though it still held frustration. “Listen, I know it’s been hard. But you’ve got to trust me. I’m with you—not her, not anyone else.”

The words should’ve reassured her, but something about the way he said them felt distant, hollow. Still, she bit back her next argument. “Fine. Go back to your studying.”

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said before hanging up.

She stared at her phone, feeling the anger fade into exhaustion.

The knock on her door startled her. “It’s open,” she called out, quickly locking her phone and shoving it under her pillow.

Scoups walked in, his expression calm but curious. “You missed dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” she said quietly.

He didn’t say anything, just stood there for a moment before sitting on the edge of her bed.

“You’ve been distracted lately,” he said. It wasn’t a question it was a fact.

“I’m fine,” she lied, avoiding his gaze.

“Y/n,” he said softly, leaning forward slightly, “you don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but don’t shut yourself out. We’re a team. We’re here for you.”

His words hit her harder than she expected. She felt a lump rise in her throat and quickly looked away, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Thanks,” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Scoups nodded, standing up. “Get some rest. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

As he left, y/n let out a shaky breath. His presence had a strange way of grounding her, even when her world felt like it was falling apart.————————————————————————————-The next day, the group was back in the practice room, running through their choreography for the Japan concert. Y/n was struggling to stay focused. Her mind kept drifting back to the photo, to Se-Hun, to the girl.

“Y/n, focus!” Hoshi called, clapping his hands.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, shaking her head and forcing herself back into the routine.

But it happened again and again. Her timing was off, her moves sloppy. By the third mistake, Scoups called for a break.

“Y/n, can I talk to you?” he said, motioning for her to step aside.

The others gave her sympathetic looks as she followed him to the corner of the room.

“What’s going on?” Scoups asked, his tone firm but not unkind.

“I’m just tired,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

“Don’t give me that,” he said. “This isn’t like you. If something’s wrong, you need to tell me.”

Her chest tightened, and she looked away, biting her lip. “It’s… personal.”

Scoups sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. But you can’t let it affect your performance. The team’s counting on you.”

“I know,” she whispered.

As he walked away, y/n felt a pang of guilt. She hated letting the team down, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth not yet.————————————————————————————-That evening, she stood on the dorm’s balcony, staring out at the city lights. The photo of Se-Hun and the girl was burned into her mind. She wanted answers, but more than that, she wanted things to go back to the way they used to be.

He studied her for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Take a minute to pull yourself together. Then let’s try again.”

Her phone buzzed in her hand. It was a message from Se-Hun.

We need to talk.

Her heart sank.

Reminder ~ If you have to fight for love, it’s not real love. Remember to love yourself first.

[meekydeeks]

it’s an abbreviation 🙃 for all you know icould’ve been saying shut the flip up 🤷🏾‍♀️

you wasn’t polite at all the last 2 sentences of your original post were very rude

and ididnt come from tiktok so you can’t claim hate the people who came from there all you want but that’s not me included unfortunately, i’ve had tumblr since iwas 13 tiktok wasn’t even a thing yet

so yes ido know how shit works on here

reading smaus has nothing to do with comprehension skills iunderstand very clearly, but clearly you don’t understand that 2 things can be right at the same time

because an x reader tag is targeted at the readers and iwas targeting them with my post as well so you can scream and cry all you want but mistagging is actually quite dangerous which is why imade the post in the first place

so no it’s not hypocritical because it was my intention to @ the readers as well as the writers

tagging smut as smut as fluff or an smau is exposing people who didn’t want to see that to the media

you can’t call me stupid when you’re doing the exact same thing no? responding to me in a manner after ivoiced a complaint, clogging up my blog with your reposts a childish idiot who doesn’t understand the concept that 2 things can be right at the same time. a breeze can be both warm and cold, no?

you can think ihave an ugly personality all you want but you’re 1 random person on the internet that jumped to conclusions without taking a moment to think

iwasnt in your anons, i’m not a wuss idont need to write anything anonymously lol. ihave better things to do have fun with whoever that is though

can we please stop mistagging things 🙏🏾

i’m sick and tired of looking for fluff and i’m bombarded with smut

why is it isearch for eren x reader and i’m getting everything but, iget armin x reader, jean x reader…

but is that what iasked for 🤨

ijust searched aot SMAU as in social media au, why am iscrolling through lengthy WRITTEN works, not even a part of a smau series or nothing just long written works

like bro that is NOT what iasked for

like iget it you want to get your work out there but there are so many other tags you can use, you don’t HAVE to hit the 30 tag max

like it’s okay to be a few short

iam sick of this shit and when i’m not sick im tired, iam sick and tired

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiebingo prompt - second chances

pairing: steddie | rated: G | wc: 2,482 | on AO3: second chances

wheeee my first steddie bingo fill!! i have so many of these started and finally finished one tonight 🤗🤗 this one is also partially inspired by this tiktok!

In late October 1986, following everything, Steve and Robin move to Indianapolis.

And one night, in the early morning hours after another round of upside-down induced nightmares, Steve finds himself checking in on Robin’s soundly snoring form in her room of their small two bedroom apartment, leaving a note for her about where he’d gone (just in case), slipping on his shoes, and heading the five or so blocks to their local 24 hour grocery store.

He’s done this a couple times before; the walk helps to clear his head and by time he gets there, he can get the shopping done. Two birds with one stone. Makes his sleepless nights work for him..

The double doors whir open before him and he grabs up one of the mismatched baskets, nodding politely to the woman manning the one open register as he passes.

He wanders the aisles, drumming his fingers on the metal handle of his basket to the somewhat familiar new Fleetwood Mac song that’s echoing down on him from the speakers embedded in the stained ceiling tiles, when he rounds the corner to the most unbelievable sight.

He literally cannot believe what he’s seeing.

At first Steve thought there was no way. That the frizzy head of unkempt waves before him had to belong to someone other than the one person he wanted it to.

But no. The person’s own basket is dropped unceremoniously onto the floor to whisk their dark hair up into a bun.. and there’s no doubt.

The scarred cheek, the dark brows, the same strong nose.

It’s Eddie. The newest, most bat-chewed member of their party, who sped out of town with his uncle as soon as he could (which is more than fair, honestly; he wasn’t going to get anywhere in Hawkins), is dancing. In the middle of the bread aisle. To Fleetwood Mac.

Steve lets him continue, the new bun pulled up in time for Eddie to jump easily into one of the goofiest looking dances he’s ever seen.

He spins around dramatically to the other half of the aisle and snatches up a box of macaroni, using it as a microphone to sing along about “sweet little lies” while he waves his arms wide and steps his feet in time to the beat.

Steve lets him finish, not wanting to interrupt the highest form of art unfolding in front of him, and doesn't speak until the song fades out, “Stevie Nicks, huh?”

All of Eddie’s limbs spasm in shock, “Jesus H. Christ!!” He clutches a hand to his chest and looks down the aisle towards the interruption. “Steve?! What–”

Steve was already on the move though, scooping Eddie up into a crushing hug. “So this is where you ended up! Why didn’t you tell anyone, man?” he questions, setting him back down but letting his hands linger on Eddie’s upper arms; as if he’d disappear if he let him go. 

Eddie seems to come back into himself once his feet touch the floor, his own hands coming up to clutch onto Steve’s arms and a bright smile on his face.

“Steve? How are you— Why are you— You—” Eddie huffs then frowns, starting over again with a new smile, “You’re here!”

“I’m here!” Steve grins back, giving Eddie a shake before shuffling him back into another hug, “You’re here,” he says, softer now.

Eddie’s arms come up around Steve’s waist, squeezing him back.

“What have you been up to, man?” he asks when he finally lets Eddie go, “Besides early morning dance recitals.”

“I’m managing a Sam Goody around the corner from here, actually.” he says, picking up his discarded basket.

“Very cool, very cool.” Steve nods, “And you’re here at 3am because…?”

“I maaaayy also bartend a couple nights a week.” Eddie picks up the box of pasta he’d been using as a microphone earlier and shrugs at it, dropping it onto his basket.

“No shit? How’ve we not run into you before?

 “Beats me, Stevie,” Eddie shrugs, ”Maybe you’ve been getting drinks from those heathens at Searchlight instead of from my humble abode.”

Steve winces.

“I knew it! Traitor!”

“How could I be a traitor if I didn’t know??”

“If you were really my friend, your gut would’ve told you to stay away from Searchlight and their gargoyle of an owner.”

Steve snorts out a laugh, “Gargoyle? What’s wrong with Brad?”

Eddie’s face does something weird. “And you’re on a first name basis with him too! Double traitor!” He smiles again, but it’s flat.

“I hereby vow to never again set foot in the forbidden lands, my liege, you have my word.” Steve says, holding his hand up in fake pledge.

Eddie looks at him in bewilderment, then presses his lips together futilely, a loud raucous laugh bursting through. “Where in the..” another laugh, “Where’d you get that kind of vocabulary, Harrington?”

“The shitheads, of course,” Steve chuckles, “They managed to wrangle me into a game or two after you—”

Eddie’s smile falls back into the flat imitation of itself instantly. 

Steve clears his throat, “Uhm, mostly Erica’s games, actually. She’s got Henderson, Robin, and me contracted into playing with her ever since Starcourt, and lemme tell you man, she’s ruthless.”

He smiles fondly to himself, “Yeah she is.”

Steve watches him think back for a moment before Eddie’s gaze is on him again, studious.

“Listen, Ed, It was really nice to see you,” he says, reaching into his pocket for an old receipt he’d remembered he’d stashed there a couple nights ago, “Lemme give you my number? Maybe we can meet up again soon?” 

Eddie grins, reaches into his basket and returns with a small pad of paper, a pen shoved unceremoniously into the wire binding. “Sure Stevie.”

Steve takes the offered paper, pulling out the pen and flipping past Eddie’s grocery list to the next page.

“There, this is the number to our apartment,” He moves to hand it over, but pulls it from Eddie’s reach at the last second, “Do you promise to call?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but concedes, straightening up and placing his right hand over his heart, “I, Theodore Wayne Munson–” 

“Theodore?”

“--Hereby swear to use the precious information given to me this day, November 9th 1986, in a timely manner.”

“Timely,” Steve scoffs as he relinquishes the notepad, “Yeah, sure.”

“A Promise is a promise Steve-o; and Munson Doctrine dictates a Promise may never be broken.” Eddie stuffs the pad and pen into his back pocket, “Though one notable Munson has never kept one in his life.”

“I bet.”

They stand there for a moment longer, before Steve steps away, “Well, the groceries won’t buy themselves, talk to you soon?”

“I promise,”

Steve’s still backing away down the aisle, “Good, you better,”

Eddie shoo-s him off with a chuckle, turning off toward the opposite end.

As soon as Steve’s turned and taken a step around the end toward the next aisle, he gets a feeling in his gut.

He gets them sometimes, pangs of worry, of anxiety; a clenching stomach that he’s just recently been told is his literal gut feeling.

And he gets one now, walking away from Eddie in this supermarket at three in the morning.

Eddie, the man who saved his brother in the upside down, Eddie, who only let Hawkins drive him out of town when his Uncle was threatened, Eddie, who would have endured it forever if it’d meant his only family left in the world wasn’t inconvenienced by the moving process.

Eddie, who it was only after he’d left that Steve’d realized the gut feeling walking though the Upside Down at his side wasn’t nerves about what was going on at all; that it was the same swoop he’d gotten after “Good Luck.”, “For your modesty, dude.”, “That Steeeve Harrington was actually… a Good Dude.”, after the goddamn “Don’tcha, Big Boy.”....

That he totally had feelings for that loser metalhead who helped save the world.

But the Munsons had gone, they were off somewhere and weren’t telling anyone where that somewhere was.

And now he’s here. A grocery aisle’s length away.. And he’s going to let him go?

No chance in hell.

So, Steve turns on his heel and jogs past the bread and pasta and, “Eddie, hey! Eddie, wait.. Wait…”

Those damn doe eyes turn to him, “Y’wanna get out of here?”

—

After a thorough ribbing for using that line to get him out of the store, Eddie agrees, puts his couple things back, and follows Steve out the front doors and down the street toward the nearby park.

“So.”

“So.”

“You got me out here, what’s up, Stevie.”

Steve huffs a laugh, his stomach doing flips even though he told it to cut it out at least six times by now, “Dunno, just had a feeling I shouldn’t let you go that easy.”

Eddie’s quiet for a moment, and Steve worries he’s already said too much.

“You really know how to make a guy feel special.”

Steve glances over at him, and is relieved to see a smile on his friend’s face. 

“We missed you,” He says, nudging him with his elbow “I missed you.”

Eddie nudges him back, “How could you miss me? You barely knew me.”

“I knew enough,” Steve says defensively, “You’re a part of the official party, Eds. But you were gone before I could get to know you more.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “As if you’d actually want to hang around with the Freak.”

“Stop that man; You don’t know me either, not really.” he scoffs, “Not the real Steve. Not the one who wanted to get to know you, wanted to hang out with you, be friends with you…” Steve trails off, not quite knowing if he should say what he’s been wanting to since he found out Eddie and his uncle had skipped town.. Should he risk it all right now and spill his guts? Spill why it was they told him to turn around a go back for him?

“And I’m telling you that you wouldn’t.”

“Ed—”

“You and I both know how that would go, Steve. It’s why we left in the first place. I couldn’t get anywhere in that town and neither could you. Any of you as long as you were my friend.”

That stops Steve in his tracks, watching as Eddie takes the handful of steps left to sit on a bench just off their path in the park proper.

Eddie sighs heavily as he sits down, stretching his legs out in front of him and his arms over the back of the seat, hanging his head back to look up at the stars.

Steve finally follows, sitting half-turned toward the other man.

“Can I talk now?” Steve asks after a couple breaths.

All he gets is a short shrug, so he does.

“A lot about me has changed since ‘83, Eddie. And not just because of the upside-down shit either, though that was a part of it.

“If I had a time machine, I’d do it all again, exactly the same. But I think I would have wanted to try to get to know you sooner.”

Eddie scoffs, and Steve continues, “You think I’m bullshitting, but it’s true, man; the three most important people in my life are people who, at one point, I thought–or would have thought–to be some of the most annoying types of people in existence.”

He brings his hand up into Eddie’s line of sight, counting off on his fingers, “Robin - band geek, Dustin - annoying know-it-all nerd, Max - she’s that kid that skateboards everywhere, who does that?? Just walk!”

Eddie huffs out a laugh but stifles it just as quickly, like he doesn’t want Steve to know his little speech is working. 

“Every single one of the rest of those little shits annoys the crap out of me on a daily basis, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world.”

Steve looks over and sees Eddie turn his face on his shoulder to look at him. He wonders if he should say the next part, if he even can.

“With you–” he starts, looking away from those dark eyes. “And feel free to hate me after this but I uhm–”

Shit, this is harder than it seems.

He opens his mouth again to start, but closes it again just as fast; he does it again before he feels a hand on his shoulder. 

Looking back, Eddie’s sitting up straight now, wide-eyed and expectant, “Go on..?”

Steve lets out a long breath, hanging his head with the movement of his lungs.

“When you left,” he starts again, lifting his head but not turning back, “When I found out you left, I felt hollow. Didn’t know why, and for a long time after I just rationalized it as missing the friend I could have had in you.”

He stops again, his stomach twisting tight.

“I feel like there’s a ‘But..’,” Eddie coaxes.

Steve turns, sits back, and faces Eddie. “But I talked to Robin–”

“Of course.”

“Of course,” he concedes, matching Eddie’s smile momentarily. “I talked to Robin about it and I wasn’t looking forward to a friendship with you, Eddie. I was looking forward to something more than that. Something that I didn’t know was possible until the summer of ‘85, and something I never thought I’d ever get to experience.

“And again, I didn’t even know what it was I was feeling until you were gone, when the possibility of having that with you was gone with you.” He looks away again, not wanting to see the inevitable rejection in Eddie’s face.

“The bottle to the neck, the vest, the ‘Big Boy’ thing, how I couldn't keep my eyes off your lips even though we were in the middle of literal hell..” Steve laughs sardonically, He makes the mistake of looking back at Eddie then, and finds his face flushed red in the light of a nearby streetlamp.

“I think I’ve had feelings for you for a while, Eddie. And it took you leaving for me to realize it.”

Eddie’s eyes are wide, mouth agape; his face is still tinged pink.

“Is that– is that alright?” Steve asks, looking concernedly at the rapid rise and fall of Eddie’s chest. “Are you okay?”

“‘Is that alright?’ he asks.” Eddie rolls his eyes, grinning, “‘Are you okay?’ As if I haven’t been told the best fuckin’ news in the whole damn world.”

“Reall– Really? The best. In the whole world.” he can’t keep the smile off his face despite his attempt at sarcasm.

Eddie laughs, “In this moment, it’s the best thing anyone’s ever heard in the history of forever.” 

There’s a moment’s pause, then Steve decides to be brave for the second time that morning; “Could I maybe kiss you about it?”

“Sweetheart, I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

317 was the only area code in indianapolis until 2016 btw

like i said at the beginning, i have so many of these started but i cannot for the life of me finish themm 😭 please lend me your worms!!

divider is from @saradika-graphics!

[nothoughtsjustfic]

Thinking about: Nanny K.MG

💭Who: Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x female reader 💭What: Friends to lovers. Fluff. Suggestive (18+). Live in nanny Mingyu. Single parent reader. 💭Word count: 2.4k 💭Warnings: Reader chose to be a single mother and medically conceived. Reader is Mingyu’s boss so I guess you could say power imbalance but it’s also very much not - that’ll make sense when you read. Alcohol consumption - they don’t get drunk. Suggestive scenes at the end. 💭Summary: “You expect to go home and hear about your son’s day from his nanny as the little boy sleeps soundly upstairs, just like normal. You certainly don’t expect to wind up in Mingyu’s bed with a dramatic change to your dynamic, but you really aren’t going to complain about that.”

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist

A/N- This is in the same universe as Thinking about: Nursery teacher L.JH, and the Juni mentioned in this is the same Juni as in that story! In February, I will be releasing a prequel to the Jihoon story, which will have our dear nanny Gyu and little Danil as characters! I’m very excited and hope you will enjoy that one too when it’s available!

Getting home late isn’t unusual for you; with your company in the process of expanding you haven’t had a lot of option but to stay late almost every single day for the past handful of weeks, unfortunately.

Which means that by the time you’re home, your darling son is already tucked up deep asleep in bed, looking so cosy and cute that you want nothing more than to crawl up next to him, pull him into your loving embrace and fall asleep. But you can’t, you don’t want to risk waking him when you know he always fights sleep so much in hopes of seeing you.

Of course, you feel like a terrible mother these days due to rarely seeing Danil during weekdays, what with you having to leave for work while he’s still getting ready for school and returning hours after his nanny has managed to soothe him to sleep. You hope that within the next few weeks, you can return to normal times to join the two for dinner and take over from Mingyu afterwards, allowing him to clock off and do whatever he wants for the rest of the night.

Not that you think the giant hearted nanny would do anything out of the usual even given the rest of the night off. At this point, you think Mingyu would spend his days off with Danil every weekend all the same if not for his friends dragging him off to make sure he remembers that he is a real person outside of his job.

You’ve tried to shoo Mingyu away yourself many weekends and convince him to call up his friends or go on a date, just something other than always being around to dote on your family of two. Yet the tall man always looks at you with round eyes shining sadly and without even needing to say a word, he bends your arm, and you give in, invite him to whatever activity you’ve planned for you and your son. Though at this point, you always make sure to factor in Mingyu when planning, knowing that he’ll likely puppy eyes his way right back to your son’s side.

And honestly, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Seeing Mingyu with your son always settles you in a way you’ve never experienced. You’ve never seen Danil with a male figure in his life other than Mingyu. There’s never been a father around because you decided to do this solo, and you haven’t once regretted that decision to be a single mother from the moment of planned conception.

But there’s something special about seeing Danil hang off of Mingyu’s every word, or the gentle way Mingyu helps the boy with his homework and teaches Danil how to be a good human, and it makes you feel like maybe there is one person who you wouldn’t mind being the father of your child, and perhaps even more in the future.

Yet Mingyu is someone you’ve been paying to live in your house and look after your son since Danil could walk. In fact, you had been paying Mingyu before then as a babysitter, not a live in nanny, and the man had been there for Danil’s first steps and had looked as proud and emotional as you felt seeing your little boy unsteadily put one foot in front of the other without assistance of either of your hands.

As much as you wish you could pluck up the courage and ask Mingyu on a date, at the very least, you’re his boss and you can’t risk it. If things went wrong, Mingyu might leave and that wouldn’t just break your heart but Danil’s too. So, for the sake of your son, you keep your feelings to yourself.

“Hey,” Mingyu’s soft whisper makes you jolt slightly where you’re leaning against the doorframe of Danil’s bedroom to watch your son sleep.

You should’ve known that Mingyu would appear, he always does when you get home, but only after you’ve had the chance to peer in on your son and whisper your love into the air in hopes that it will reach Danil’s subconscious and bless him with nothing but sweet dreams. Tonight though, you had been too deep in your own mind with thoughts of the tall man to hear him near.

“Hi,” you reply just as quietly as you peer over at him.

“Come on, I’ve got exciting news, and a bottle of your favourite open,” he tempts you, not just with his cheekily grinned words but the outstretched arm and fingers wiggling invitingly at you.

There’s no hesitation, no thought as you put your hand in his and let him lead you downstairs and to the living room where, as promised, there’s a bottle of your favourite wine open on the coffee table and two glasses with the drink already poured within.

You both settle in the dimly lit room, only the sounds of whatever movie Mingyu had left running playing lowly in the background. He doesn’t even look at it, instead turns on the sofa so that he’s got one leg tucked under him and his shoulder against the backrest so that he can look at you as you gratefully swallow down your first mouthful of wine.

“Tough day?” He comments, smiling amusedly as you consume the contents of your glass before he’s even taken his first sip.

“No more than usual, just wish I could be home with you two more,” you reply forlornly as you watch Mingyu top up your glass.

“Two?” He repeats quietly and carefully puts the bottle down on the table.

“Mm. You and Danil.”

“But I’m just-”

“Mingyu, if you say you’re just his nanny, you’re not allowed to spend this weekend with us.”

Immediately, Mingyu looks at you with his sad puppy eyes and slightly protruded bottom lip. “But that’s my favourite part of the week, spending time with you two doing fun stuff.”

“Mine too, but you don’t get paid on weekends, Mingyu, which means you’re not his nanny during those trips.”

“Then why do you let me stay if you don’t think of me as the nanny?” He frowns confusedly. “If you don’t want me there to help and do everything I usually do, why do you let me stay and include me?”

“Because you’re one of us,” you answer honestly. “Our family.”

“What?” His expression melts as somehow, his eyes turn even bigger. “You consider me family?”

“What else would I consider you? You’ve been around since Dan was a baby; you’ve done probably more child care than I have at this point, even when you don’t have to. We love having you here and although I feel bad when you choose to spend weekends with us instead of joining your friends or going to find yourself a girlfriend and start your own family, I’m glad you stay.”

“I don’t want another family,” he admits and puts his slightly trembling hand over yours where they both remain around your glass propped on your folded legs. You look down at his touch and remove one hand from the glass to allow him to hold it. “I only want this one.”

“Mingyu…” you swallow thickly as your heart races with what this could imply, if he is saying family in the way you wish for, or in a broader sense. Maybe he means he wants to be Uncle Mingyu, not the father of your son, which you would accept, of course you’d accept Mingyu wanting to be Uncle Mingyu, but hearing Danil calling him daddy in the same breath as you mama, that would be something wonderful, you think.

“I know I’m overstepping, I’m just the guy you pay to watch your son, and honestly I’d do that for free if this wasn’t my only source of income, but you see…the thing is that I…I’ve fallen in love with you both and I would really, like really love to be a family with you,” he confesses.

For a second longer, you stare unblinkingly at his hand before you register that you haven’t just fantasised his words like you have many times before. Mingyu really did just confess to being in love with you and that he wants to be a family, which sounds like he wants to take on the exact role you’ve been yearning for him to for years now.

“J-just to clarify what you mean,” you say as you slowly look up at him and find his anxious gaze locked on you. “By family are you saying you want to be Uncle Mingyu or…daddy?”

“Uhm…the second one…if-if you would allow me to be.”

“I need to get a new nanny,” you mutter dumbly and watch as Mingyu’s features fall.

“Oh.” He looks away and turns, removing his hold from you as he swallows down the contents of his glass faster than he ever drinks any wine. “Right, I’ll uhm, pack my stuff and be gone by tomorrow evening so the new nanny can have my room.”

“Gyu,” you breathe out and shuffle closer to gently cup his farthest cheek and turn him to look at you. There are tears gathering on his lashes. “Oh, baby, I didn’t mean it like that,” you assure softly and brush your thumb across his cheek as a tear falls and drips down across his skin.

“N-no?” You shake your head and give a little, reassuring smile. “Then h-how?”

“I can’t really keep paying you to be Danil’s nanny when you’re his daddy.”

Mingyu’s breath catches in his throat and his eyes dart over your expression rapidly for a handful of seconds before settling back on your eyes. “You mean it?” He whispers.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

“For Danil to have a dad?”

“For you to be his dad.”

“Oh,” he breathes out. “I love you, I-I don’t know if you love me too or-or just want me to be his dad and I’ll accept that, whatever I need to so I can be that for him, but I just need you to kno-know. I love you and I have for…” he lets out a breath. “It feels like I’ve always loved you, even before I knew you. It’s just…”

“Natural,” you finish, and he nods in confirmation.

“Yeah, it feels natural to love you, like it’s all I was made for; to love you and Danil.”

“Do you have more love?”

“Huh?”

“Well…Danil has been asking to have a little brother; it might take us a few tries to get the right gender, but I don’t mind repeat attempts if it’s with you.”

The tears in Mingyu’s eyes return with a vengeance and start to spill over, trickling down to meet your thumb still smoothing over his cheek. “Y-you want to have babies with me?”

“I do.”

“And that?” You make a confused sound. “Will you say I do in another circumstance with me one day?”

“Are you asking if I’ll marry you one day?” You wonder in surprise. He just nods and then you surge in to kiss him, utterly overwhelmed with emotion and unable to even attempt to verbally answer right now.

Mingyu whimpers slightly at the sudden, passionate kiss but then he’s blindly taking your glass from your hand to place onto the coffee table with his own so that he can pull you onto his lap and wrap his arms around you, all without breaking the kiss.

You kiss for long enough that your lips are bruised and tingling, chests heaving as your lungs search for air by the time you break apart and look at one another with matching hooded eyes.

“I love you, so fucking much,” you inform when you have your breath back enough to speak, running your fingers through his hair to try and tame the mess you’ve already made of it. “I want it all with you, Mingyu; marriage, babies, everything.”

“Fuck,” he pulls you in to another intense kiss with one hand threaded into your hair at the back of your head and his other arm around your waist to pull you even closer and press you down against him where you can feel how aroused he is, and it only makes your body burn brighter. “I’ll be the best daddy, I promise.”

“To me or the kids?” You joke and watch as his eyes darken before his lips spread into a seductive smirk that makes you wish you’re already in your bedroom. Or maybe his; it’s further away from Danil’s, therefore, much more suited for your current urges.

“Tonight, yours,” he answers and leans in to nip at your bottom lip teasingly. “Sound good, baby? Wanna go upstairs and show daddy how much of a good girl you can be?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Later, you lay in Mingyu’s bed naked, where he excitedly tells you that Danil has been invited to his first ever birthday party this coming Sunday, a picnic for a little girl named Juni that you’re both invited to as well, and you’ll repeat your love into one another’s skin in between discussing where to go from here.

Mingyu can’t technically be Danil’s nanny anymore, even if you agree to not tell anyone about the change quite yet as you want to ease into it, so Mingyu will be more like a stay at home dad and although he has savings and you both don’t want you to give him an allowance because it’ll feel too much like paying him to look after his own son, you agree that for now, you’ll keep paying him until things are settled and he can look for a job if he wants to have his own income.

There’s a lot more that needs to be discussed too; how to tell Danil, when to tell Danil, if Mingyu will move into your bedroom so you’re both closer to your son or you’ll move into Mingyu’s so there’s less chance of Danil hearing your private, late night activities, or if you’ll just swap between for the best of both worlds, plus a whole list of practicalities and legalities about the change of status, but for now, you decide to just enjoy what’s fallen into your lap.

Mostly because it’s your new boyfriend’s mischievous grin before he presses your thighs apart to get his head in between them for the nth time, and there’s really not a chance in hell that you’ll ever stop the man from loving you in every way he sees fit when this seems to be his favourite method.

As soon as Mingyu is done and you’ve got your strength back, you’ll return the favour and show the man how grateful you are that he’s agreed to take up the title of Daddy, but for now, you lay back with your fingers in his hair and enjoy the ride.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess

Special tag: @ourdawnishotterthanourday

[eldritch-spouse]

Is there magic I could learn to make myself into a plushie/doll for Zizz to carry around? I’d also love to make it a game with Zizz of hide-and-seek. One day I’m a doll…another day I’m a plushie…the next I’m a different looking doll. Would he be into that? Or would that be more of a panic/nuisance for him?

The first person you approached about this was Tristalis, naturally. The monster has a peculiar magic that makes plushies come to life, so surely, he can make you into a sentient plush, right?

No, disappointingly. The starbeast kept shaking his heads when he understood what you wanted. He makes familiar-like entities, minions and servants born of yarn and some DNA of their masters. He could never turn you into a plush.

Though, when he sees the deepening frown in your face, Tristalis very hesitantly suggests the contact of a being beyond him in terms of power. A being that he stresses you should exert caution dealing with. A fae. They can make your wish come true, but you will have to make it worth their consideration.

And, well, don't tell King Zizz that Tristalis said this.

To no one's surprise, this fae is none other than Mooncalf, who has taken a fancy to Tristalis, in the same way a stray cat occasionally checks on a human that once fed it. Mooncalf is more than intrigued by your request, but he frames the terms in a way that sound eerie, if you squint. Nevertheless, should you let him "help" you, you'll be granted with the ability to periodically turn into a doll or plush of your choosing to play this game with Zizz.

He's not initially into this.

It's horrifying to the King that you've been having contact with a being like that without his knowledge, he's scared for you and very antsy when you turn into a doll, even if the chase to find you is a fun premise. You're beautiful and comfortable and the King never lets go of you in this form, but he's panicked.

Because some parts of you have stopped being human altogether.

He noticed it around the third time you played this game, after you transformed back into your regular self. Something about your hair felt propped, the way it curled and seemed to stay in place even after he threaded his fingers through it. An artificial blush seems to be taking over your cheeks. What he once mistook for sudden dimples appear to be stitch marks at the edges of your smile. Your eyes shine a little birghter, bigger. Even the way you walk has a little pep now.

You're adorable, Zizz has to admit. He really can't keep his claws off you anymore- Not that he didn't struggle before.

But he knows you're not fully human anymore, and he's scared you might actually become inanimate one day.

[seasaltandwisdom]

tips for tired hellenic polytheists

new or old

when first researching where to start, it’s very overwhelming with everything you need to do. autism and chronic illness were and still are a major hindrance to everything i do, worship included, not to mention i am still worshipping in secrecy. i was put off from worshipping for a year or so because of this. it doesn’t have to be so daunting, the gods aren’t here to judge how efficient you are in your worship.

starting with altars, you don’t need one, especially not a big elaborate one. they’re gorgeous and one day i aspire to have one, but that’s not ideal or even possible at the moment. if you plan on giving libations you can have a small cup or glass to hold the offering and sit it next to you or in any empty space until you’re ready to discard. same with food items, a small platter works. it doesn’t have to be a dedicated space, they understand your circumstances.

another thing i struggled with was knowing which god or gods to worship. you don’t have to wait for a god to call to you. pray to who you want and who makes you feel comfort and happiness to think about. the gods aren’t going to turn you away. you can start with more than one too. there’s no ‘beginner’ gods, just who you want to start with!

giving offerings doesn’t have to be so complex, especially if you’re worshipping in secret. a big one i do is offer a portion of my food to the gods while i wait for it to cool or find a video to watch. i tell them i’ll eat after and the first bites goes to them. they know if you have limitations, they know i can’t give them food and let it sit and afford to not eat it myself and that’s okay. i also buy a lot of trinkets from various places, if it reminds me of the gods they get to keep it and when i look at it i’ll whisper a small hello.

devotional acts are easiest for me, it’s things i’m already doing or should be doing. taking my meditation/listening to music in honor of apollo. cooking/spending time with family in honor of hestia. watching ocean related videos for poseidon. if it pertains to the gods, devote the act to them and it keeps me on top of things i need to do if i know i devoted it to the gods.

this may be my most controversial section, i don’t do khernips! if you do, more power to you of course. i just don’t have the means, and don’t see much reason for that to stop me from worshipping. i will wash my hands with soap and water before giving an offering, but for regular prayer of just saying hi or talking about my day with the gods, which i usually do in bed or while out and about, i don’t worry about it. they know im human, they aren’t going to shut me down or out for being such. this stopped me for awhile, i couldn’t make khernips so of course i couldn’t worship but truthfully the gods are understanding. even somedays when im too tired, depressed or sick to do anything, i used to feel bad for not being my cleanest while talking to the gods but if i can’t pray when im at such a low point, when can i?

the gods aren’t going to be disrespected or angry at you for praying or offering whilst you’re on your period. yes, i’ve seen that debated. just be clean on human standards, when you can, and they will understand. they’re old and wise, they’ve seen it all.

i’m just rambling at this point so i’ll wrap up soon! coming from christianity, it’s hard to not fear the gods, i get it and most others do too. religious trauma is hard to overstep, if it’s something you struggle with the gods won’t mind if you have to do a few things differently. good luck on your journey, whether new or just continuing. i hope my yapping helped with anything. your faith is personal to you, don’t let others push you away from it. be kind to each other and yourself.

as always, feel free to dm or send an ask if you feel inclined to! my word is just that, don’t take what i say as law and if you do things differently, that’s okay. i’d love to hear about that too!

[earthlybeam]

Can you please write about elves with a huntress/hunter reader who lives deep in the forest, doesn't have many manners or anything fancy like the elves, and is not used to eating healthily or consuming less meat. The reader hunts for themselves, bringing hunted animals to the elves as trophies, thinking the elves will appreciate them. Include Thranduil, Elrond, Legolas, and Celeborn. Have a good day/night. Thanks for your beautiful writing. I very rarely see person who writes so thoughtfully and poetically and even more rarely I see writer who writes for Lotr elves.☕

Aww, thank you so much for your kind words! That really means a lot to me. I’m so glad you enjoy the writing, and it’s so wonderful to hear that you’re excited for a LotR story with the elves. I’d love to write something like this! It’d be so fun to explore the contrast between the elves’ elegant, peaceful way of life and her wild, free-spirited ways!

Thranduil, Elrond, Legolas, Celeborn version below.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

The ancient trees loomed overhead, casting long shadows over the forest floor. The sound of footsteps was muffled by the thick carpet of leaves and moss, as you, a solitary hunter, moved through the woods with practiced ease. Your home was far from the opulent halls of the Elves, nestled deep within the heart of the forest in a humble, weathered hut. A place where the air was filled with the scent of earth, damp leaves, and the unmistakable musk of the animals you hunted.

You lived by the bow, your hands used to the rough texture of your weapon and the weight of your quiver. You were accustomed to taking life, a necessity in your world. Every day, you hunted to survive, bringing back the fruits of your labor: deer, boar, and the occasional stag. The larger the prey, the more satisfying the hunt. And every time you brought down one of Mirkwood’s majestic creatures, you carried it proudly to the elves, thinking they would appreciate your skills.

But your ways were far removed from theirs. The elves, particularly their King, Thranduil, with their ethereal grace and reverence for the land, were hunters too—but not in the same way. For them, nature was a delicate balance, something to be revered and preserved. The fruits of the forest—herbs, berries, and nuts—were their preferred sustenance. Meat, especially the meat of an animal as noble as the stag, was a rarity, an occasional indulgence, and only consumed on special occasions.

As you approached the palace, the soft hum of voices reached your ears, growing louder with each step. The grand, gleaming structures of the elf kingdom were unlike anything you’d ever seen. Towers crafted from living wood, leaves and branches intertwining in delicate patterns. Their halls sparkled with a natural light, the air fragrant with the scent of flowers and herbs. It was a stark contrast to your rough, simple existence.

You approached Thranduil’s court, carrying the large stag draped over your shoulders. Its massive antlers gleamed in the pale sunlight, a prize you had taken down after hours of tracking. It was an impressive kill, something that would have earned you admiration from any other hunter in the land—but here, in the realm of the elves, you felt a momentary twinge of uncertainty. You knew little about their customs, only that they were not like you. Still, you hoped your offering would be appreciated, even if it was an act foreign to their way of life.

Thranduil stood at the center of the hall, his long, platinum blonde hair flowing around his shoulders like a cascade of moonlight. His piercing eyes caught sight of you as you entered, and he raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to the stag you had placed before him. His lips pressed into a thin line. The room seemed to grow quiet as the tension between the two of you thickened. Thranduil’s expression was unreadable at first, but beneath the calm exterior, there was a flicker of something darker. A flash of disapproval. “You bring this to my halls?” Thranduil’s voice was low, cool, and dangerous. It was not a question, but an accusation.

You stood tall, your back straight, meeting his gaze with a defiant stare. “Yes, my king,” you replied, your voice unwavering. “It is the prize of my hunt. I thought you would find it worthy.” The elves around you exchanged uneasy glances, their faces pale, as though the sight of the stag made them uneasy, or worse, repulsed. They were not accustomed to such offerings, not when the creatures of the forest could be more than just food—they were sacred, revered, and treated with reverence.

Thranduil stepped forward, his long fingers brushing the surface of the stag’s fur. His face was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a sharp edge of anger. “This creature is sacred to the forest,” he said softly, though his words carried the weight of authority. “You kill it as though it is nothing more than a trophy, a mere object to boast about.”

You flinched slightly at the accusation, though you didn’t let your face betray the hurt. To you, hunting was survival. You had learned the ways of the forest long ago. The act of taking down a majestic creature was an honor, a way to prove your skill, your connection to the wild. But here, before the elves, it felt like you were standing before a different world—a world where your ways were misunderstood, seen as crude, primitive. “I did not bring it to boast, Thranduil,” you said, your voice steady. “I brought it as a gift, as a show of respect. I thought you would appreciate it.”

Thranduil’s gaze hardened. “You do not understand,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Meat is a luxury, not a necessity. We do not kill for sport or to collect trophies.” The weight of his words hit you like a cold wind. You had never considered that. In your world, meat was survival. It was the blood and flesh of the forest, the very lifeblood of your existence. But to him, it was something entirely different—something sacred, something meant to be treated with reverence.

“You are wrong,” Thranduil continued, his voice colder now. “You think you understand the forest, but you only take from it without understanding its true essence. It is not for you to decide when to take its life.” A long silence stretched between you, filled only by the distant rustling of leaves outside. You stood your ground, but inside, there was a twinge of guilt, a sense of wrongness in the air. “You would do well to remember the balance,” Thranduil said finally, his voice softening just slightly. “We take only what we need. And even then, we offer thanks.”

You nodded stiffly, the weight of your misunderstanding sinking in. You had acted with pride, but now, in the face of Thranduil’s quiet but unyielding authority, you realized how little you knew of their ways. “Will you still accept it?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. Thranduil’s gaze softened for a moment, and with a small sigh, he nodded. “We will take it, but not for the reasons you think. It will be given back to the forest in due time, as a gift, a reminder of the sacrifice that was made.”

You bowed your head, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and understanding. This was not your world, not your way. You had hoped to show your strength, but instead, you had revealed your ignorance. The stag was not your trophy to keep. It was a gift, a gesture of respect to a land that gave life in its own way. A lesson, you thought, as Thranduil turned away to oversee the ceremony. A lesson that the true hunt, the real strength, came not from what you could take, but from what you could give back to the land that had nurtured you.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

In the heart of the forest, where the trees whispered ancient secrets and the earth was as familiar to you as your own skin, you lived a life of solitude. Your hut, constructed from fallen branches and thick moss, nestled between towering oaks and pines. The scent of the woods—the rich, earthy aroma of damp soil and fresh leaves—was all you knew. It was a simple existence, far removed from the grand halls of the elves, their elegant cities, and their refined customs.

You were a hunter, and the forest was your home. Each day, you ventured deep into the wilds, tracking animals, listening for the quiet stirrings of life in the underbrush. The hunt was a ritual of survival, not sport. You didn’t adorn your weapons with ornaments, nor did you care for any formalities. The kill was necessary. The meat was sustenance, and that was all that mattered. There was no delicacy, no finesse—just you, the trees, and the game.

The offering you had prepared for Rivendell was one of your best. A wild boar, thick and heavy, its tusks sharp and gleaming in the fading sunlight, accompanied by a deer and several rabbits. You’d taken them down swiftly and cleanly, knowing the importance of not wasting a single part. The weight of the kills pressed on your shoulders as you trudged toward the gates of Rivendell, your heart steady in the way of those who walk alone in the wild.

You had done this before, bringing your trophies to the elves, convinced they would appreciate your skill and the quality of the game. You knew they were a proud people, wise in their ways, and surely they would recognize your strength and hunting prowess. They might even accept your offering in the same way you had seen in the few exchanges you’d had with their kind—silent nods, polite words—but no real connection. They lived differently, you knew that, but what did it matter? The hunt was sacred to you, and you were proud to share it with them.

As you neared the gates, Elrond stood waiting, his long, graceful form silhouetted against the shimmering light of Rivendell’s halls. His piercing gaze studied you, the hunter—you, with your rough-hewn clothes and the scent of blood and the wilds clinging to your skin. To him, you were both a mystery and a reminder of a world far removed from the delicacy and reverence of elvish life.

You didn’t acknowledge the way his eyes lingered on you, nor the subtle tension in the air that always followed your arrivals. You didn’t care for the elves’ highborn ways, the long meals full of laughter and elegant conversation that felt foreign and strange to you. You dropped the boar and the deer at his feet without ceremony, your shoulders straight and proud. “I’ve brought you game,” you said simply, your voice rough, shaped by years of isolation.

Elrond, ever the picture of grace, gave a slight bow of his head but did not immediately reach for the animals. He let the silence stretch between you, studying the offerings with a quiet, thoughtful gaze. His eyes flicked from the boar to the deer and then to you. There was no anger, no judgment, but a certain sadness that lingered behind his usually calm demeanor.

“Your skill is evident, hunter,” Elrond spoke at last, his voice rich with centuries of knowledge. “But I must admit, I wonder if you understand what you offer.” You blinked, a twinge of confusion tugging at your brow. “I offer what I know best. The hunt. The land provides—does it not?” Elrond sighed, a sound full of ancient weariness. He could see the pride in your eyes, the simple belief that this was the way of things. “The land provides, yes. But the elves of Rivendell… we do not take what we do not need. Our ways are not like yours.”

You frowned, your confusion deepening. “I bring this because I thought you would appreciate it,” you said, your voice hardening a little. “I thought this was what you wanted. It’s a strong kill, a good offering.” Elrond’s gaze softened, though his face remained solemn. “You misunderstand. What we take from the land, we take with reverence. We do not live in the same way as you, hunter. Our bond with the land is one of balance, not conquest. We forage the fruits of the earth, gather herbs, and celebrate the cycles of life. Meat, to us, is rare—only taken when necessary, and even then, it is with the utmost respect for the creature that gave its life.”

His words sank into your chest like a stone, the weight of them pressing down on your hardened heart. You didn’t know how to respond. The idea of restraint, of living without the constant hunt for survival, felt alien to you. You had always lived by the rhythm of the forest, where the strong survived and the weak fell. The concept of eating without bloodshed felt like a betrayal of the land itself. How could you understand this way of life?

“But…” you started, your voice catching, “I live by the hunt. The game provides. Without it, I cannot survive.” Elrond nodded slowly, his eyes not filled with judgment, but with understanding. “I do not question your way of life, hunter. You are a product of your surroundings. But here, we live differently, and we ask for understanding of that. You do not need to offer these gifts of blood to prove your strength. You are more than that.”

You stood silently, unsure of what to say. The weight of the meat at your feet seemed heavier now, the sight of it almost shameful in the quiet, peaceful world of Rivendell. You had never known anything else, and yet here, in this foreign place, you realized how little you understood about the delicate dance between life and death that the elves lived by.

“I did not mean to offend,” you said at last, your voice quieter now, a crack in your usual boldness. “I thought you would appreciate it. I thought it was the right thing to do.” Elrond’s gaze softened even more. “You did what you thought was right. There is no shame in that. But you must understand, hunter, there is more than one way to live, and in time, perhaps you will see the beauty in the balance that sustains us all.”

You didn’t know if you would ever truly understand, but something about the way Elrond spoke—the calm authority in his voice—made you feel like you had taken the first step toward something new. It wasn’t the hunter’s path you had always known, but it was something worth considering.

🍃𝓛𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓼

You live deep in the heart of the forest, away from the shining halls of the elves and their highborn customs. Your home is a humble hut, tucked away in a glade surrounded by ancient trees, their gnarled roots and thick canopies offering both shelter and solitude. The world outside is one of dirt and sweat, where each day is spent tracking, hunting, and surviving. It’s not an easy life, but it’s one you know well. Your skills with the bow are honed through necessity, not ceremony. When you hunt, it’s for sustenance, and the meat you bring back feeds you through the long nights and hard winters.

To you, the forests and creatures are just another part of the world, as much a part of your survival as the air you breathe. Each animal you hunt is treated with a hunter’s respect, and the trophies you bring back — antlers, pelts, and sometimes the rawness of the kill itself — are meant to be admired for their strength and beauty. You don’t see any reason to hide the rough edges of your life. After all, it is life. It’s survival.

But the elves… they live by different rules, different standards. Legolas is a prince, raised among the elegance of Mirkwood’s halls. His world is one of grace, where nature is admired with reverence and balance is key. The elves are skilled hunters, but their methods are soft — they don’t take more than they need, and they rarely, if ever, hunt for meat unless necessary. Instead, they gather the gifts of the forest: fruits, nuts, and herbs that sustain them without bloodshed.

You bring the carcass of a deer to them, its sleek body slung over your shoulders, the weight of your kill familiar, even if the task of bringing it to the elves feels a little out of place. You’ve been told that your offerings might be appreciated — that it’s a gesture of respect to bring something back to their realm. But there’s something in the way they look at you, something… off, as if they aren’t sure how to respond to the offering of something so primal, so rough.

Legolas stands with the other elves, watching as you approach with the dead animal. His face, ever serene, betrays little of his thoughts, but there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes when he sees what you’ve brought. He’s seen hunters before, of course, but this is different. This is the raw, unpolished reality of hunting that belongs to someone who lives outside the order of elvish civilization.

You set the deer down before him with a grunt, brushing your hands on your rough trousers. You expect the usual admiration, the quiet nods of respect for a good kill — you’re skilled after all. You’ve been doing this longer than you care to admit. But Legolas does not step forward immediately, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as he takes in the sight of the animal. “This is…” His voice trails off, as if unsure how to proceed. He shifts his weight, the movement fluid and graceful, an unspoken tension in his posture. “A fine creature, but… why did you bring it here?”

You glance at him, not quite understanding the question. “To share,” you answer bluntly. “A hunter’s tribute to the elves. The forest provides for me, I return the favor.” The elves do not hunt for meat as you do. You know that now, but it doesn’t seem like something they would admit openly. Legolas watches the deer, his eyes studying the carcass with an unreadable expression. He steps closer, crouching down to inspect it with the care of someone who might handle something fragile, something precious. But there’s no admiration in the gesture, only a quiet unease.

“This… this is not how we honor the forest,” he says gently, though there’s an edge of confusion in his voice. “We take only what is needed and offer thanks, not trophies. We do not kill for sport. The animals give themselves to us, but we do not take their lives lightly.” You raise an eyebrow. It’s not the first time you’ve heard the elves speak of balance, of offering thanks to the earth. You’ve never understood it. To you, hunting is survival — there’s no need for excessive reverence when it’s the only way to feed yourself. But you can’t exactly fault them for their beliefs.

“I didn’t think…” you trail off, unsure of what to say. You know their way is different, but it’s hard to understand. “I thought it might be appreciated. To show I respect your lands, your way.” Legolas looks up at you then, his eyes soft but serious. “We do appreciate your efforts,” he says, his voice almost like a whisper, as if trying to ease the tension between your worlds. “But you must understand that we do not take life lightly. There are other ways to offer respect — ways that don’t bring harm. The forest gifts us with so much more than just its creatures.”

You nod slowly, your gaze shifting down to the deer. It’s strange, the way he speaks of life and nature, as though everything must be done with such care. But maybe you’re missing something. Maybe there’s more to their way of life than just survival. “I see,” you say, your voice softening as you try to understand. “I don’t know that I can offer much else, but I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind next time.” You’re not sure what else to say, and the silence between you stretches awkwardly.

Legolas offers a slight smile, though it’s more of a gentle curve to his lips than anything overtly joyful. “It is appreciated. Perhaps next time, you will bring the fruits of the forest. There is much to be found here, and it is a gift that will nourish you in ways you cannot yet understand.” You glance at the other elves, who are still observing you with quiet curiosity, their eyes lingering on the deer with something akin to quiet concern. You wonder how they’ll handle the offering, if they’ll just bury it or leave it to rot in the woods.

“I’ll consider it,” you say after a long pause, nodding your agreement to something you’re not entirely sure you’ll follow through on. You’re a hunter, it’s who you are, but… maybe there’s something to their way. Legolas steps back, his hand brushing against the tree beside him, almost as though he’s speaking to it without words. “You honor us in your own way. But let us find balance together. We can teach you how to see the forest differently, and perhaps you can teach us to appreciate the raw beauty of the hunt.” He looks at you with a twinkle of something both mischief and sincerity. “In time.”

You grin despite yourself. There’s something about him, about his calm, that makes you feel less like a misfit in their world. Maybe, just maybe, you could learn to see things through his eyes. For now, the silence lingers, but it doesn’t feel as heavy as it once did. You’ve made your offering, and Legolas has made his. There’s a bridge, however small, between your worlds now. Maybe you’ll never quite understand each other’s ways completely, but for once, it feels like that’s okay.

🩵𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓷

You move through the dense forest, the familiar crunch of fallen leaves beneath your boots. The sun barely pierces through the canopy, casting faint light that dances on the undergrowth. Your home is hidden deep in this wilderness—far from the glimmering, structured lives of the elves, who seem to live on a plane so distant it could almost be a different world. Here, you’ve carved out your own existence, simple and necessary. You hunt, you survive. There is nothing grand or complicated about your life.

As a hunter, you are accustomed to the solitude, the quiet of the woods, broken only by the sound of your bowstring, the call of a deer, or the snap of twigs underfoot. Meat, fresh from the forest, is your sustenance. It’s not delicate, not adorned with herbs and spices like the elves would prepare it, but it keeps you alive, and that’s enough. The idea of eating like the elves—light, airy meals of fruits, nuts, and berries—is foreign to you. It would not fill your stomach; it would not satisfy the hunger that gnaws at you from the inside.

Yet, something in you compels you to bring the fruits of your labor to them, to the elves of Lothlórien, those strange, ethereal beings who live in the glimmering light of their sacred woods. Maybe you hope they’ll appreciate the skill it took to bring down the stag or the wild boar. Maybe you long for some recognition for the life you’ve carved in this untamed wilderness.

You walk for hours, your game draped over your shoulders, the weight a reminder of your efforts. The faint whisper of leaves in the wind is the only sound in the forest now. When you reach the borders of Lothlórien, the sight of the silver trees fills you with a strange sense of awe. You’re so far removed from their world, and yet, you are bringing them something.

Celeborn watches you from a distance as you approach the heart of Lothlórien. His eyes are calm, measuring, assessing. He has seen many things in his long life, but a solitary hunter—drenched in the sweat of his labor, the scent of the wild still clinging to him—is a curiosity. His people are not like you. Their lives are defined by a different kind of grace, one that values balance, subtlety, and harmony with the land. His people forage and cultivate, nurturing the land that they hold dear. The act of hunting for sport or necessity, especially in the raw, primal way you do it, is not something they find familiar or comforting.

As you draw closer, Celeborn steps forward, his presence a quiet command, and yet there is a softness in his gaze. “What brings you here, hunter of the woods?” His voice is calm, soothing, like the rustle of the leaves above. “You carry the spoils of your hunt, I see.” You lower your prize, the weight of the boar now on the ground between you. “I thought you would appreciate these,” you say, a touch of uncertainty in your voice. “A fine boar, taken down with skill.” You step back, letting the smell of the wild waft into the air.

Celeborn observes the carcass silently for a moment. His expression is unreadable, the serene calm of someone who has seen many things in his long life. To him, this offering is strange. His people do not hunt for necessity like you. Their connection to the land is different—a partnership, not a conquest. And yet, he is not one to judge, not without understanding.

“We are not strangers to the hunt,” Celeborn says gently, his eyes meeting yours with a quiet respect. “But in our realm, hunting is a rare occurrence, reserved for times when the balance of the forest is disrupted, or when we gather in celebration. What you bring… it is not without its merit. But our ways, they differ.”

You feel a sense of discomfort stir inside you, an unfamiliar feeling. You had hoped for more of an acknowledgment, a greater appreciation for what you’ve done. You’ve lived for so long in the solitude of your hunt that the notion of how others might view it is almost alien to you. “I understand,” you reply, your voice rough from the journey. “It’s not what you are used to. But it’s the way of the wild, of the forest. The cycle of life. I thought… perhaps, it would help.”

Celeborn’s gaze softens, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. He steps closer, the elegance of his movements matching the grace of the ancient woods around him. “We do not shy away from the realities of life. The forest is not only filled with beauty, but with struggles as well. But we, the Elves of Lothlórien, seek to live in harmony with nature, rather than to take from it in excess.” He pauses, contemplating his words. “The forest, like the heart of a wise ruler, must remain in balance. Your hunt, your offering, is… not without merit. It shows skill, certainly. And it is a part of your world. But here, the balance is what we value above all.”

You are silent for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. You had always thought of hunting as a simple necessity, but to Celeborn and his people, it seems to be so much more than that. They do not take from nature, they live with it, drawing only what is needed, never more. “I didn’t mean to overstep,” you say after a pause, feeling something like shame wash over you. “I thought you might need it.”

Celeborn regards you with a quiet sympathy, his eyes softening. “You need not apologize, hunter. Your offering, while not aligned with our ways, is a gesture that shows you understand the forest’s gifts. And for that, we are grateful. Perhaps… you would allow me to show you the ways of our people? There is more to living with nature than taking from it. There is peace to be found in understanding its rhythms.”

The weight of your hunt still lingers on your shoulders, but his words stir something in you—a curiosity, a desire to understand what it means to live in harmony with the world rather than simply taking from it. Celeborn’s offer is gentle, not one of judgment, but of invitation. An invitation to learn, to see the forest in a different way.

You nod, slowly, uncertain but willing. “I would like that,” you say. Celeborn gives a small, approving nod. “Then come. There is much to show you.” And as you follow him deeper into the heart of Lothlórien, you feel a strange sense of peace settle within you, as if the forest itself is welcoming you, not as a hunter, but as a part of its cycle.