#I’m sure it’ll find its way there eventually

[spineless-lobster]

Hello odyssey fans are we aware of this?????

[lale-txt]

❥ falling asleep besides you for the first time ↳ w/ Toji, Naoya, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Higuruma, Sukuna & Choso

a/n: this came over me like a fever dream during another episode of insomnia. some of those drabbles are a little sad, i apologize. it's what you get with all those tragics characters. reader is gn!

word count: 1.4k

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn’t even want to fall asleep; it’s not like he had a good night of rest ever since… well. He tells himself he’s just gonna close his eyes for a bit, stretched out on the couch next to you, his weary head in your lap. There’s still blood on his hands and on the side of his face, he’s gonna get cleaned up in just a bit, he mumbles, but the words come out heavy and drowsy, and your fingers are tangled in his hair now and your voice is this sweet whisper, baby, I love you anyway, and Toji–Toji just gives in. For the first time, sleep doesn’t come over him as a heavy veil, as if he’s drowning; for once it’s something peaceful, something quiet. Something he welcomes. Next to you, you with your fingers woven between his, you who loves even the broken parts of him, you with quiet love and reassurance that you’re still gonna be there when he wakes up again.

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀 hasn’t had another warm body next to him under the covers in a long time. He doesn’t realize how much he missed this until your body melts into his, one leg swung over his thighs, your arm sneaking around his waist and your head finding its spot in the crook of his neck. His cheek falls softly against your forehead when he pulls you closer, breathing in the scent of you that’s the closest to home he ever felt, pressing kisses on the crown of your head. It’s not just lust–oh, he wants to devour you, but there’ll be time in the morning–it’s the absence of loneliness and unspoken confessions. Higuruma can tell when he’s falling in love and in this moment he’s wading deep, deeper through his feelings for you, biting his tongue so they don’t spill out all over the pillows and into you. You already know anyway, and when the sun comes up again, you’ll lick them from the cave of his mouth like a prayer.

𝐍𝐀𝐎𝐘𝐀 can’t fall asleep, not on his wedding night, not when your mouth is whispering all those words he’s demanding from you. His cheek is pressed against your palm while he’s pinning you down, almost nuzzling into it like a touch-starved stray, golden eyes lingering on you. Say you’re mine. Again. Say who you belong to. Mine. Mine. All mine. He isn’t aware how pleading he sounds, how raspy his voice gets the more you obey, every time you sigh his name so softly into his open mouth. Naoya doesn’t care if you’re lying, as long as you wear your wedding band on your ring finger for everyone to see. You’re his to keep now, and if he could have it his way, you would be forbidden to leave this bed forever; he wasn’t aware just how much he had craved the presence of another being by his side at night, one who doesn’t leave once he had his share of pleasure. No, you’re his now, and before sleep eventually finds him, he’ll make sure to sink his teeth into you till his name rolls off your tongue like a lullaby. 

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 doesn’t let go of your hand; he’s afraid it’ll go cold if he allows himself to let his guard down even for one second. This isn’t how he had imagined spending the first night with you. Not under the fluorescent lights of the infirmary, not with your body wrapped in gauze and machinery monitoring your heart rate. It dawns on him as he’s sitting on your bedside–how attached he’s gotten to you, then: How he had almost lost you today. He squeezes your hand tighter and sighs, his weary head sinking down on the mattress. Your fingers twitch and find their way into his hair, combing through it weakly. As if they say, it’s okay, I’m alive, you’re not to blame. So please don’t leave and take all your love with you. And Nanami takes your hand once again and kisses your fingertips, pressing promises against your skin, promises of a future where you and him can just be, one where he can finally put all of these feelings down, down in your open and gentle palms for you to keep.

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 is clingy throughout the day, but even more so at night. He doesn’t like the eerie quiet that settles in once the sun has sunken, not when he can listen to your steady breathing next to him instead, so naturally he feels a rush of joy when you push your futons together for the first time. His heart is beating way too fast to find sleep now, his eyes taking in everything about your sleeping figure, from the way your chest rises and falls to how your nose scrunches slightly for a moment. Choso wants to know what you’re dreaming about, what colors your dreams are, and if he’s ever in them. He wants to engrave himself into your being, wants to keep you wrapped in his arms forever. His kisses feel light against your skin, careful not to wake you but enough to fill his desire. Choso loves you with his entire being, and sleep is merely an obstacle, cutting away from your time spent together–though he must admit, his eyes flutter shut quite easily in your embrace.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 realizes that his idea of ‘sweets in bed’ now has a double meaning, seeing you sprawled out in his sheets with candy wrapping paper clenched between your fist and more of it lying on the floor. Cute, he can’t help but murmur as he lays down next to you on his side, mustering you with an amused smile on his lips. When he told you to knock yourself out on the sweet souvenirs he brought, he didn’t assume you would take it that literally. His thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth, collecting some of the powdered sugar that’s still stuck there, and Gojo could swear he never tasted anything sweeter than this when he brings it to his tongue. He gently replaces the trash you hold onto in your sleep with his fingers, woven between yours, and pulls you close to him, his tall figure embracing you; and for the first time in a long time, Gojo feels a wave of calm wash over him, allowing him to exhale and sink into a dream almost as sweet as you.

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 doesn’t know why he keeps entertaining your antics. Sharing a bed, sleeping together side by side? How utterly foolish, but as to be expected from a mere human; they’ve always been like this, seeking comfort and warmth when they’re the most vulnerable. Of course a predator like Sukuna wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping safe and sound. Yet still; he can’t help but let his gaze linger on you, wrapped up in his embrace, four arms holding you in place on top of him. Everyone else would freeze in fear, but you? You snore quietly without a single worry in the world, knowing you have a king watching over you in your slumber. Sukuna huffs but still brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Maybe he’ll tell Uraume that you’re off the menu, for now. As long as you know your place–in his embrace, wearing his marks with pride, providing a sense of comfort Sukuna had never known before. Fool, he mutters and rests his chin on top of your head, not sure if those words were for him or you. 

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 doesn’t question when you knock on the door of his dorm room, asking for shelter after a particular nightmare. He hasn’t found any sleep yet anyway. When he lifts up the covers for you to slip under, he’s surprised that you don’t even hesitate to do so, wrapping yourself around his body as if it was molded for that only. Geto can tell that you’re trying not to tremble, but the nightmare still lingers. He knows it all too well. His fingers brush through your hair when he pulls you closer to his chest, as if this could prevent you from falling apart–though deep down he’s aware that he might be the one on the verge of breaking. You know it too, don’t you? Geto is tired, oh, so tired. The kind of tired sleep can’t fix, and he can’t help but wonder if this would also be the last time that you’re in his arms, clinging onto someone who is long gone; a version of him that he shed together with his dream of letting himself love you.

[obsessedwithceleste]

Daisy Chains and Kept Promises

George Weasley x reader

Based on this request🫶🏽

Summary: George Weasley was never one to break a promise. Especially not one sealed by a daisy chain ring.

word count: 3.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

It was the first sunny afternoon in what seemed like forever, but in reality had only been a few days, and the residents of the burrow were eager to escape onto the vibrant, green lawn.

“Fred, George you stay out of trouble now!” Molly shouted from the kitchen as you run out the door with the twins.

“Come on now, it’s our last summer before they ship us off to Hogwarts! We gotta make the most of it!” Fred replies, sprinting out to the shed where the Weasleys stored all their brooms.

“Hurry up Georgie, or I’m taking the good broom!” You tease as you race past the other boy, snatching the best broom from the rack before he has the chance to protest.

“Aw c’mon! Why’s she always get the good one?” Ron complains as he catches up with you all.

“Oh shut it Ronald,” George retorts, not bothering to give his youngest brother a second glance.

The four of you spend the afternoon zooming across the field, a beat up quaffle tossed between you in carefree bliss as the sun shines down on you and Ginny watches from the ground below.

Eventually you all tire and you find yourself lying in the shade of the old oak tree that loomed over the garden. Thankfully the rain had scared off the gnomes that had a habit of sneaking into the garden for a tasty treat.

“Show me how to make those daisy crowns? Like the muggles?” Ginny asks, bringing over fists full of the little white flowers.

“Not now Ginny,” Fred sighs, rolling his eyes at the young girl.

“No, no, we can do it now,” you argue, patting the ground next to you, gesturing for the younger girl to sit beside you.

“Yeah, let her stay,” George agrees, smiling fondly at you.

Fred snorts at his brother, eyes rolling once more.

“You always side with her, you’re supposed to be my twin! How are you two going to survive without each other?” Fred retorts, leaning back against the tree.

“It’ll only be a year, then y/n can join us in the fun,” George replies happily.

“Oh at this point you might as well just marry her,” Fred responds with a huff.

You feel your cheeks begin to grow red and you turn to focus all your attention on the young girl beside you, showing her how to intricately wrap the stems together to form a chain of daisies.

You’d known the twins for as long as you could remember. You’d practically grown up with them. Your father Remus did the best he could raising you on his own, he really did, but it was hard. Especially on full moons. The Weasleys always took you in on those nights, often resulting in you staying for days while Remus recovered.

George had had a soft spot for you since the beginning, always being the slightly softer twin while Fred was more severe and brash. You could remember a particularly bad night when it had been storming, the loud thunder making you shake with fear. George had stayed up with you all night, making sure the storm didn’t get you. You had been seven at the time.

It had started back then you supposed, your little crush. It had confused you at first as you had thought of all the boys as your brothers, but now, at the ripe old age of ten, you could tell that Georgie was different from the other Weasley boys.

“There!” George announces excitedly, shaking you from your thoughts as he brandishes a single daisy up into the air, its stem tied rather roughly in a small circle.

Without warning, he grasps onto your hand, sliding the makeshift ring onto your finger, looking rather pleased with himself.

“There. You’re my wife now,” he says proudly as you stare at the little flower adorning your finger.

“You didn’t do it right! You have to ask her to be your wife. Everyone knows that!” Ginny exclaims, watching the two of you with a dopey little grin on her face.

“Oh. Right. Y/n, will you be my wife?” Georgie asks, batting his eyes dramatically at you and sticking out his bottom lip.

“Yes I will,” you reply with a laugh, admiring the pretty daisy that now sat on your finger.

“You two are so gross,” Fred says, making a face.

“Oh, oh! Do the promises! The ones where you say I do!” Ginny urges excitedly, clapping her hands.

“Alright. Do you promise to always laugh at my jokes, always be there for me when I need you, and always take my side when we argue with Fred?” George asks.

Fred begins to make dramatic gagging sounds.

“I do.” You reply with a giggle as Fred just glares at you. “And do you promise to always make me smile, always protect me, and always make me hot chocolate when I can’t sleep?”

“I do.”

It was dark. The whole house was dark really. All the time. Dimly lit and constantly smelling like mold and rotting wood. And the furniture seemed to be permanently damp, the coldness settling into your bones.

You hated it here at Grimmauld Place. The constant shrieking of decrepit, old portraits, the eerie feeling of constantly being watched. The only positive attribute about living in this wretched place was the fact that Remus had never been happier.

It had taken months to do it, but after Harry had been able to help Sirius escape the dementors, Dumbledore had inconspicuously been able to move Sirius into Grimmauld place where you had been staying ever since.

It had been strange at first, no doubt. You had only just met the man, but he grew on you quickly. Like a fungus. You loved seeing how comfortable he made Remus who visibly softened whenever the other man was near. And you hadn’t seen Remus smile as wide or as often, well ever. You could tell that the two of them were just meant to be side by side, and honestly, that was enough for you. Especially in dark times like these.

“Lighten up love, we have a surprise for you before dinner,” Remus announces, entering the drawing room where you sat wrapped in a pile of blankets, a book in hand as you tried to ignore the screeching bag lady in entry way portrait.

“Is it another one of those horrendous sweaters that Sirius keeps digging up from somewhere?” You ask, nose scrunching at the thought of another one of the putrid smelling things being presented to you. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you detested the nasty things, so you had been giving them to Kreacher to dispose of rapidly. “I know I keep telling him that they’re lovely, but how many of the things does he think I need?”

Remus just laughs, shaking his head. “I’ve told him to move onto something else, but he’s determined to fill your wardrobe I think. But no. It’s not another sweater. For now at least. No, I do believe you’ll quite enjoy this little surprise.” He tells you before leaving you to your book and your thoughts.

Dinner time couldn't come fast enough as you eagerly eyed the clock every fifteen minutes, only to be disappointed by how little time had gone by.

About thirty minutes before the three of you usually ate dinner, you began hearing a chorus of voices coming from the entry way. And not the familiar voices of the Black family portraits.

"Well where is she then?" a loud voice asks.

Hearing the voice, you immediately perk up, not quite believing you'd heard correctly. This place might be driving you mad.

"Oh bloody hell mate, don't seem too eager now," comes the sarcastic response.

You'd know those voices anywhere. Practically throwing yourself from the couch, you eagerly scramble to the door and down the staircase to be greeted by the whole Weasley family grinning up at you.

"Look Georgie, there's your wife, don't get your knickers in a twist now," Fred scoffs.

You fly into George's arms, sighing contentedly as his arms wrap securely around you.

"Well hello to you too," you hear him laugh as he gives you another squeeze before releasing you.

You hadn't seen him, or the other Weasley's for that matter, in what felt like ages. He and Fred had grown their hair out, and you didn't quite remember them being so tall last you saw them. His smile never changed though.

Bashfully, you greet the rest of the Weasley bunch, even Fred giving you a quick hug, before rubbing the top of your head affectionately and effectively tossling up your hair. You stick your tongue out at the boy in response, batting his hand away.

"I missed you all, so much! I've been going absolutely bonkers being here alone for so long," you tell them.

"Well not to worry love, we'll be here all summer. Hermione too, though she's not coming for another few weeks." George tells you.

Feeling eyes on you as you laugh with the boys, turning to see both Sirius and Remus gazing at you intently, eyes flickering between you and George.

Sirius silently points at you, then George before drawing a line across his neck with his finger before giving you a wink. You feel heat creeping into your cheeks as you turn back to the boys.

"What are you all doing here?" you ask eventually as the adults begin to file into the kitchen.

"Came to be used as house elves of course," Fred replies, earning him a nudge from George.

"Mum said that Sirius volunteered the house to be headquarters for the Order," Ron butts in.

"Yeah, then mum volunteered us to help clean the place up," Ginny adds.

You make a face at that.

"We have a lot of work to do then, this place is disgusting," you tell them, leading them up the stairs to the room you'd been staying in. On your way up the stairs, George's hand never leaves yours, fingers intertwined as you guide him up the dusty staircase.

"Long as there aren't any spiders," Ron replies, eyeing the spiraling stairs with suspicion.

You just look back at the boy with concern, pity overtaking your face as his own face turns pale.

For once Grimmauld place was silent. A rare luxury you'd found, especially since the Weasley's had moved in. Not that you minded, the red headed family made the grim, old place feel alive and vibrant. Something you thought the it needed desperately. But you liked the quiet too.

It had been a strange couple of weeks as everyone, the adults especially, seemed to be on high alert. And who could blame them? Hermione had just moved in, sharing a room with you and Ginny. You could hear their breathing now as you stared up at the dark ceiling above.

After the Weasley's arrival, you had all spent countless hours decluttering Grimmauld place. Sweeping, dusting, banishing the more mouthy portraits to the attic. It was hard work, but you had loved every second of it with George making you laugh until you keeled over, tears streaming down your face. His presence just made everything better. You thought so at least.

In the darkened room, your mind drifts to the conversation you had heard between the adults just hours ago. It definitely wasn't a conversation you had been meant to overhear, but Georgie had given you a pair of extendable ears that he and Fred had developed, and you just couldn't help yourself.

"Oh really Sirius, they've all practically grown up together, George would never do anything to hurt her," Molly had said.

At the mention of George's name, you just had to find out what they were talking about.

"We never said he was going to do anything malicious, we just don't want to see her get hurt," Remus replied with a heavy sigh.

Her?

"They're practically adults, you can't protect her forever. So what if they fancy each other? They're not children!" Molly retorts.

"Oh that's rich coming from you. Just the other day you were going on about young witches and wizards rushing into marriage during the first war. And how many times have you told the twins that they're forbidden from joining the Order hmm? They're adults, Molly, you can't protect them forever," Sirius responds.

"Oh but at least I've done all I can to protect them up to this point. What have you done for y/n? Nothing. Because you've been locked up!" Molly spits. You can hear the fury in her voice.

Your fists ball up in rage at her comments. None of it was Sirius's fault. He didn't do anything wrong. How dare she?

"That's enough!" you hear Remus cut in, a sharpness in his voice that you hadn't heard before. "We weren't coming to attack George, or the way you raised any of the children. We were simply raising our concerns, as any good parents would. Now that we've made our point, if you don't wish to interfere, fine. We won't either."

After that the only thing you had heard was the shuffling of feet as they abandoned the dining room. They had most definitely been talking about you. No doubt about it. You hadn't realized they were concerned about you. They never said anything. And it was only Georgie. The two of you had been married for six years now. In all the ways that mattered to you at least. He would never hurt you. In fact, he'd made it a promise.

Mind racing and unable to sleep, you slip out of bed, careful not to make a sound as you slowly creep to the drawing room that you so often took refuge in. To your surprise however, a dim light was already flickering inside when you approached, and a familiar head of red hair sat facing away from you on the sofa.

"Georgie?" You whisper cautiously, not wanting to spook him.

His head turns in surprise, but his face lights up when he sees you.

"What are you doing this up this late, love?" he asks.

"I could ask you the same."

"Fair enough. Just a lot on my mind I suppose."

"Me too," you reply.

A silence falls between the two of you as you stand, watching mesmerized as the light flickers on and off of the boy's handsome face.

"Want me to make you a hot chocolate?" George asks finally.

A smile grows on your face and you instantly perk up at the mention of your favorite treat. George always knew how to put you to sleep, and he always made the best hot chocolate. Nodding enthusiastically, the two of you make your way down to the kitchen where George begins gathering supplies.

One thing you'd always admired about him was that he never minded doing things the muggle way. While Fred was always quick to magic his way through things, George was content taking his time.

"Help stir the milk so it doesn't burn?" he asks, gesturing to the pot now on the stove.

You silently take the wooden spoon from his hand, fingers brushing ever so slightly, before focusing on the task at hand. George sets out two mugs on the counter before helping you melt in the chocolate.

It all felt terribly domestic. As if there wasn't a sociopathic murderer on the loose. Like it was just the two of you.

It isn't long before George is pouring the dark liquid into the mugs, sprinkling in a few little marshmallows and a cinnamon stick or two and the both of you are retreating back up to the drawing room.

The first sip sends shivers of satisfaction down your spine as you lean into George who wraps his free arm around you. You pull a blanket over you and revel for a moment in the comfort.

"Care to share what's been on your mind?" George asks, breaking the silence.

"Only if you go first," you reply, not quite sure how to explain that he was really the only thing on your mind these days.

George just sighs. "It's nothing you we haven't told you before," He tells you. "Mum is just fighting for her life to keep Freddie and I out of the Order, but Moody agrees with us. We're of age. There's nothing she can do to stop us."

"Will you be safe?"

"Safe as can be. Mum has made sure they don't give us any real missions. Just patrolling Diagon Alley since that's where we set up shop."

You simply nod your head, letting it fall against the boy's chest as you feel his even breathing and let it overtake you. You'd never admit it out loud, but you were grateful for Molly to an extent. The twins had an abysmal lack of self preservation skills, and you didn't know what you would do if you lost Georgie.

"And what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You feel your shoulders shrug as you think carefully of what to say.

"I overheard our parents talking today," you mumble, not exactly sure where you were taking this.

"Oh?"

"Dads are worried about us," you tell him, hiding your face in his chest.

"Worried?"

"I dunno. They said something about your mum talking about how a lot of wizards and witches rushed into marriage during the first war, and there was a lot of talk about you being of age and what not. It got intense. There was a lot of yelling."

You feel George's chest rumble with soft laughter at your words.

"Well that's a silly thing to be worried about considering we've been married for years now at this point," he says.

You're not sure if he's joking or not. Maybe the exhaustion was finally getting to you.

"I'm being serious Georgie. I didn't know they were so worried about me. And Sirius sounded so upset," you reply, sitting up to take another long sip of your hot chocolate.

"So am I." he responds, looking you dead in the eye. The usual mischievous gleam is gone this time and you know he's never been more serious about something. "You know I'm not one to break a promise."

The air grows heavy as you feel yourself freeze for a moment at his words before you sink back into his warm embrace.

"I still have it you know. Your ring. Your mum charmed it for me so it wouldn't wilt. She knew all along," you tell him.

"She tends to have a sixth sense when it comes to these kinds of things."

Another silence falls between the two, but this time, the silence brings comfort as you feel your eyes growing heavy. George tries to stifle a yawn, but it escapes anyway. It was later then you had realized.

"I'm glad it's real for you too," you murmur, leaning further into the boy as your eyes flutter close. Something about being in George's arms provided a sense of security you couldn't find anywhere else.

"It was always real. I'd never break a promise to you, love."

bby's first non-slytherin boy fic🫣

don't ask me if I edited this- the answer is no and I don't want to talk abt it💀

tag list: @sol-lupin-black @breeistired

[moondirti]

pregnant diner waitress reader just has a dirtbag babydaddy, calling her and screaming the whole over the car and her being late.

honestly i hadn’t planned to have her baby daddy in the picture at all but the angst potential here… too tempting to pass up

PART 1 • PART 2

tags: simon x reader x johnny. darkfic. dirtbags. verbal abuse (not by ghost or soap). pregnant fem!reader who still hasn’t realised she’s being actively abducted.

It takes a bit to convince you to let them drive you home.

Your resistance is met with a paradoxical reaction by both men. On the one hand, there’s a warm comfort at the knowledge that you aren’t so easy to take advantage of. Even in your distraught state, you push back against every solution they propose. It is quite a detour, I’d hate to inconvenience you or I’m sure I can get a friend to come out instead. You’re wary, though your exhaustion sways you to assume the best of them, which means that you aren’t quite at the point of flat out refusal.

Otherwise, they – Simon, in particular – simmer in frustration. Red wine in a saucepan, reduced to a stronger version of itself over flame. Bitter. Strong. More insistent: cannae rest easy tonicht knowing we left an expecting hen tae fend fur herself. They poke at the knot until they find a loosening, tugging, tugging, then abandoning it once a more promising end appears.

Eventually, their combined efforts (though most of the credit can be attributed to the sincere, puppy dog look Johnny sports at all times. Hard to resist, even for Simon) dismantle your willpower. You duck your head in a modest thank you and shuffle behind them, seating yourself firmly behind the drivers seat even though you’re offered shotgun, hugging your bag over your belly.

“Do you need me to type in the address on google maps or something?” You say after they pull out of the parking lot.

“Y’were on about Adderford.” Simon meets your wide eyes in the rearview.

“Yeah.”

“Reckon I know the road.”

Simon does know the way, and so does Johnny. Adderford, off of exit A36. Near a polluted lake that was the victim of an attempt to turn the town into an industrial hub. Nothing to show for that, of course – all it has to offer now is a poor quality of life for all those who weren’t fortunate enough to get out.

Yeah. They know the way, and their confidence must set a precedent for the trip. Your anxious fidgeting stops after 10 minutes of driving, and you’re smiling at the nonsensical story coming from the passengers seat a mere 5 minutes later. In the meanwhile, your rationalisation is visible. Simon watches your gaze flicker back and forth between them, then around the car that must feel luxurious next to yours. If they wanted to do something bad to you, then they would’ve already done so. Besides, what kind of delinquents drive a wrangler?

30 minutes in, you’re fast asleep.

They really couldn’t have asked for a better turn of events.

They come up on exit A36 and stick to the middle lane, passing the little sign that points to Adderford being a couple miles out. Past the point of no return, beelining towards the secluded house they’ve made your new home, and you can be none the wiser. Johnny can’t believe their luck, babbling in a hushed voice about how nice it’ll when you to wake up in their bed.

The fantasy loses its grip when your phone rings, blaring from deep within your bag. Panic ripples across your face, jolting you from your sleep as you scramble for the device. The series of events unfolds in far too familiar a way for one of them. Simon – a buried torment wringing around his guts as he listens in.

“H-Hello? Shit. What–” You’re breathless, stuttering. Back to that scared little thing they found by her car, crying. “Please- please calm down.”

And though you try to keep your voice low, they leech on to every word you say. Someone on the other line yells, indistinct insults punching through the mic and landing. You wilt, tucking your lip underneath two teeth, waiting the anger out.

(Tommy donned the same expression those nights when things got bad. Simon remembers hugging him against his chest so he wouldn’t have to face the misery his brother’s countenance wrought.)

“You shouldn’t- I’m sorry, but I thought I c-changed the locks. You’re not allowed to be in… not in my apartment.” More yelling. Soap twists a fist, concoting a hundred different ways he can track whoever it is down. Make them pay for their abuse with their own tongue down their throat. “It’s none of your business- you left…”

“Easy.” Simon whispers to his partner.

“Si.”

“I know, boy.” Perhaps all too well. It gets harder to keep a firm steer over the wheel.

“Don’t accuse me of– my fucking car broke down! You shouldn’t even– fuck! Hello? Hello?” A low scream tears from your throat, prelude to the aggressive shoving of your phone down into back your bag. Trembling fingers press down over your eyes, rubbing until your tears soak into your skin. Ridding of the evidence to your dismay. You suck in large gulps of air, holding them in your chest until it aches, then gasp out equally hefty exhales.

No one speaks for a while. Then–

“I don’t think I should go home right now.”

Too broken for them to feel anything but overwhelming pity. Johnny clicks his tongue, looking over his shoulder so you can latch on to the sincerity that seems to calms you so.

“O’course. Whatever ye need, lass.”

Your frown softens “There’s a motel–”

“Next one’s farther ou’ than our place is. Can’t take you there and back m’fraid.” Simon interjects. Like a record scratch, or sandpaper on an already raw moment. It must make him an awful man to use your earlier propriety against you, but conviction has superseded his desire to act decently.

Sure enough, you visibly blanch, shaking your head and stumbling over your words.

“No! No, of course not. Of course- that was so silly of me to ask. You can, I mean… you can drop me off anywhere, really. I’ll sort t-things out for myself.”

“Not what I meant, pet.”

You don’t catch on. He doesn’t repeat.

Johnny bridges the gap.

“We’ve got a spare bedroom.”

next part

[cherry-leclerc]

i hate you. i hate you? ☆ cs55

genre: humor, fluff, love confessions, childhood friends to enemies/rivals to lovers (damn, tongue twister), maybe a bit angsty (don't worry too much about it though, lol), flashbacks that add to a tiny slow-burn

word count: 3.5k

The dwindling friendship that comes crashing down when you get offered the opportunity of a lifetime. Leading to a bumpy road with your best friend.

req!... i swear that when i put angst ITS NOT BAD. anyways, enjoy, anons!

Me encantaría formar parte del equipo, you muse whimsically, pigtails flying against the winter breeze. Sería un sueño hecho realidad. 

Despite being young, you knew you were different— came from a divergent background compared to those around you. Your family definitely didn’t have the resources to fulfill your dream to kart or race professionally. You partially blame your brothers for getting you into the sport. 

Si. Lo sería, a particular Spaniard, agrees. You smile. Your parents share a pitiful glance before sitting you down. It wasn’t going to happen, not because they didn’t want to but simply because they couldn’t afford such an expensive hobby that would probably kick you in the butt. 

That’s where your first guardian angel appeared. Carlos Sainz Sr. Better known as your best friend's father. Without a doubt, he offers to sponsor you, for he grew keen on having you around, enjoying time by the pool with his two girls and shy son. 

Was there a way you could ever thank him? No, not really— nothing would ever cover all he’s ever done for you, but you’d make sure to try your best to find a way. Even if it took you a lifetime. 

-

“You’ve known her for a lifetime! Probably five, for all we know!” Lando yelps, running a hand through his curls. “You can’t just call it quits on your friendship just like…” He snaps his fingers. 

Carlos shrugs. He fills up a styrofoam cup of coffee, silently offering one to his moody friend. The Brit rolls his colorful eyes. You’re making a mistake, he presses. It’s the Spaniards turn to grow serious. 

“Por favor—she should have thought about that before she stole my seat.”

That, you did. It wasn’t an easy decision to make. It could have never been, even if you had been warned. But suddenly you were getting an opportunity, the kind you only ever dreamt of. Carlos would be fine, he was a man who would eventually have a pile of teams interested in keeping him around. You, on the other hand, were surprised that anyone was even intrigued in having you form a part of their F1 team, much less— Ferrari. 

This was it, and you had to grab at the opportunity. You just never imagined losing a friend along the way.

Why would you even consider accepting? You flinch and he’s looking as if he regrets it, so you give him the benefit of the doubt. 

I know this isn’t what we were expecting, but think of it this way. I'd be coming in 2025 and you would already be too busy preparing to join Audi! It’ll work out. You’re still doing that, right? You knew he was, he had been so excited and told you as soon as he found out. Audi was in his blood.

He runs a large hand through his tangled hair, sighing. Still. You have to say no. You can’t do that to me. It’d be embarrassing.

Your shoulders drop an inch. Why? Because you’re being bought out or because a woman is keeping your seat? His silence is enough for your heart to break and for your mind to be made up.

I’m signing. 

-

There is indignation, and then there is you.

“You are such a—argh!” Pounding your fists against the locked door, you reach out to briskly twist the knob, trying your best to get out of the cramped room. The world was spinning, and you could feel a migraine rolling in strongly, but you swore—swore—you would kill him as soon as you got your hands on him. 

The morning had started off fairly simple. Show up, run a few tests on the stimulator, get to know a few of the mechanics you’d be working with, and finally, sign your contract. You had waited longer than intended, due to minor changes you had suggested, so you were extremely ready to get it done. This was supposed to be your day.

That is until the grumpy Spaniard pushed you, locked you in, and ran off before you had a chance to register what was going on. Fred had been adamant—show up on time. The next time he would be available would not be until three weeks, and that was ridiculously long if anyone were to ask. Carlos knew that.

Charles hums slowly, munching on a pack of M&M's when he hears the spine-chilling scream you let out, wood vibrating as you punch angrily. Hurrying over, he unlocks it from the outside, surprised by your appearance. Your hair is tussled, face is blotchy, vein throbbing. It’s definitely a sight to say the least. He mentions something about —he went that way— and —think about what you’re going to do— but you’re off before you settle with any of it.

The twists and turns make your head hurt, practically seeing red before you come to a halt. Smiling sophisticatedly, Carlos is sat, legs crossed, fingers pointing to his watch. No. “News for you, my dear friend; Fred just left.” The Spaniard winces playfully, already making his way out the door. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Charles was right. You should have thought about what you would do. Jumping onto his large back, your flimsy hands dig into the forest he calls hair, and pull. He screeches, swaying from side to side as he hurriedly tries to disconnect your legs from around his waist. Let go, he groans harder when you pinch his arm. 

“Why? Why did you do this—any of this?” At this point you’re kicking and screaming, panting, heaving. “Is it really that difficult to accept it? You lost. I’m in, you’re out.”

“At least we know she’s a fighter.”

Coming to a sudden stop, your eyes flicker to the familiar voice, instantly burning up. Fred taps his foot gingerly against the white tiles, an amused Monegasque standing right behind him. Jumping off of the sulky brunette, you begin to shake your head in disbelief, pointing towards the exit. “N-no…you’re supposed to be gone. He…” Then it hits you. This was a fucking set up.

“While I’m evenly impressed by your toughness, I will say, I think we should put a hold on signing.” Your stomach drops. The older man quickly waves his hands in dismissal, grinning apologetically. “We still want you! Nothing has changed, but I think it’s for the best that you fix things with Carlos before doing so. It’ll be good for you two.” With that, he bows his head, and strolls away, heading for the airport.

“I’m out too,” Charles whispered, slowly stepping back. “Fill me in on what happens, though!” 

As soon as your breath evens out—and Carlos creates a safe distance between you two—you let out a deranged chuckle. He almost cringes at the cold sound, but keeps his chin up high. “You did this all on purpose?” It’s a question but comes out more like a confirmation, which in a way, it was. Shutting your eyes, you tilt your head with a ghostly smile. “You knew he hadn’t left and let me make a fool out of myself. Why would you do that?” you grit, orbs laser focused on him as if you could light him up into flames if you really set your mind to it.  

“Why would I not?” he stubbornly spits back.

“You asshole, I’m just trying to make your dad proud.”

A pinch of guilt dives deep into his veins as he watches you stomp down the hallway, mindlessly tugging at his heart.

-

I say we let him burn, Ana pitches the idea, laying flat on her bed as you scoff with a knowing smile. 

Does it make me a bad person if I don’t disagree with you? 

She sits up, eyeing where you calmly paint down on a canvas. She squints her eyes. “What even is that?” Holding your art with pride, you shoot a sheepish smile. Nice, huh? The Spaniard’s youngest sister giggles, nose scrunching up at the dark sight. “I’m confused—is he supposed to look like that?”

You curl an analytical brow, shooting a quick snarl. “I think it’s pretty good. And yes. He’s supposed to be getting run over by my future car. What a sight.” You dramatically swoon.

Ana drops her stare, focusing instead with a teasing curl gripping the corner of her lips. “Remember when instead of plotting his death, you’d be fantasizing about a life with him? God, I could still remember all the hearts—the glitter.” She shudders, faintly recalling the mess in her room, which led to Reyes giving you both a good scolding, but not before winking at a red-faced you. 

Looking away feverishly, you shake your head, picking up the flimsy paint brush once again, never once bothering to make eye contact with her. “I was young. Stupid as shit. I can’t even remember what I loved about him.”

“Liked,” she corrects you.

You cough. “Right. Liked.”

-

If the Spaniard took the time to sit down, roll through a philosophical journey, wonder where things might have changed for him—it would have saved him enduring a puddle of dreadfulness at this very moment.

Ana’s wedding. The first of his sisters who would get married. It was a bittersweet day, and not just because she was finally leaving the family nest. “Who is she…” he can hear himself ask. Almost demand. The brunette smirks, slightly pleased. 

“My best friend. You’re nemesis,” she jokes. 

Carlos growls slowly, lightly pinching her cheek as she yelps. “With. You know what I mean.”

“Lalo. She met him a few weeks ago. Very nice guy.” A beat. “Please don’t ruin my wedding.”

But he’s not even listening. Brown eyes follow to where you stand straight, arms crossed over your body like a shield. He always knew you’d been self-conscious, but never understood why. You were stunning. Lavender dress hugs your curves beautifully. A trace of honey fills any area you fall into. Your hair is nicely pinned up, allowing him to enjoy your silky skin. 

And it seems like Lalo too.

Rubbing a large hand against his smooth jaw—which was only neat since Reyes had hounded him to fix his appearance for his sister’s big day—he smoothly made his way over. Rupert warns the Spanirad with his eyes, but Carlos scoffs. Did everyone think he had something up his sleeve? 

“Enjoying yourselves?”

Mid-sip, your face freezes, doe-eyes flickering between Lalo, then Carlos. Then Carlos, then Lalo. God, when did the room begin to boil? Your voice gets caught in your throat, to make matters worse. Carlos’ personal trainer pity’s you for a split second, deciding to help out. “The drinks are stellar, mate. We’ve been hogging the bar for so long at this point.”

The brown eyed boy studies your so-called date, faking a cold smile. “You don’t say…Carlos, by the way,” he says, extending his arm out. “Remind me of your name again, sorry, she’s just never mentioned you before. At all, really. I apologize.”

“That’s okay, we only just met a few weeks ago. We’re taking it slow.” We’re. The word itself makes the 29 year old fear he might puke right then and there. “Eduardo, but you can call me Lalo. Huge fan.”

“Mines or hers?” Carlos bitterly questions, thick lips forming a straight line. Lalo awkwardly clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, pulling away and leaning in to hold you close. 

“Guess it’s my turn to apologize now. Hers. Always. But you’re pretty cool, too, I suppose.” His voice is light, unbothered. It makes Carlos tick furiously, though he doesn’t dare show it. You can’t pinpoint the moment tension rose up, snapping you out of your trance. Blinking hastily, you aim a sour snarl at the Spaniard. 

“We were sort of having a good time, so…” You shoo him away with a jeweled hand. “I just don’t want to kill the vibes. You understand, right?” Barely giving him a chance to respond, you turn back to your conversation, leaving Lalo and Rupert to appear puzzled, but stupidly playing along.

With a raw click of the tongue, the 29 year old takes a step forward, leveling down to your ear. “Pretend all you want, but you’re still wearing my initials around that pretty wrist of yours.” And walks away.

It was true. Your parents had gifted you a lucky charm bracelet for your fourteenth birthday, and Carlos greedily beat everyone to it. A car, for your love for Formula One. A chili, a shy thank you for his nickname. An ice cream, well, because you just loved ice cream. And a cursive CS. For him. 

Watching him walk away left you with a hole in your heart. You did not need a reminder like that on a day like this. Wearing it was purely out of habit, it had no meaning to it anymore. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. The need to use the restroom was a complete lie as you wordlessly peek for the broad Spaniard. You spot his glossy shoes first, sticking out the photo booth. 

“Scoot,” you say, gently cramming him in deeper. Once you get situated, you slide the silver charm off, handing it over to him. “Here.”

He furrows his dark brows. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want anything tying me back to you anymore. It was kind—sweet—but that was past you. You’re cruel, mean, rude, a fucking jerk now. I don’t like that, so— here.”

“I don’t want it,” he retorts, curling your flat hand into a fist, forcing you to hold it tight. 

“Well I don’t either, so what is there to do? You know what; I’ll just sell it. It’s not even that significant,” you mumble, already making your way out, but not before he hauls you back. Falling straight onto his thigh. You can feel your pulse quicken, your cheeks tingle, and your eyes suddenly burn. “Let me go,” you squeal, trying your best to weasel out of his grip. He groans, placing a large hand on either side of your hips, pushing you down.

“No. Just listen to me first.” Sighing, you nod. You should be climbing off; there’s room for two. He should be pushing you off; there’s room for two. But none of that happens as he clears his throat, rehearsing his words over and over before you raise a neat brow, waiting for him. “Perdón. Por todo.” 

Not what you were expecting and he could tell when you let out a small gasp. Nervously, he licks his lips, admiring your plump ones that don’t lay too far off from his own. “I used to be so proud of you when we were just kids. When you first admitted you wanted to race too. It was adorable, the way your eyes lit up.” Your breath deepens, unknowing of what this was leading to. “But I’ve always been proud. That’s never changed.”

“You’re a terrific liar,” you timidly chuckle, patting his shoulder, making him back off a little. But he only ricochets forward, twice as close. Your insides churn. 

“You don’t know how fucking happy I was when you got a seat. Over the moon. But I won’t lie; I was hurt and said some shitty things that have no excuse tied to them. I know I hurt you—I know that now. But that feeling vanished when worry came creeping in. I don’t want you to sign that contract.”

You flinch, reality crashing down on you once again as you examine the Ferrari driver. “Why apologize if you haven’t changed? My feelings aren’t a joke,” you whimper pathetically, tears sliding down your cheeks, soft brows drawn together. 

He panics, gingerly brushing them away to the best of his ability and you don’t have the power to fight him off anymore. You’re too busy getting your heart broken once again by the same man. 

She’s beautiful. Insanely—it’s insane. Her eyes are a shade of green I’d never thought I’d like.

I once wore a shade of green shorts last summer and you called them ugly. Said it looked like vomit. 

Carlos sighs dreamily, dominantly shaking his head. 

Well crap. I must’ve changed my mind.

Present him, was taking in your frantic sobs and he doesn’t know how else to calm you if it's not by rubbing your back gently. It takes a while, but you eventually ease up, occasionally letting out a shaky breath. “First of all, let me tell you why I did everything within me for you not to sign. It’s no good.”

You tilt your head in confusion, nose runny as he hands you his handkerchief. “I-I’m confused.”

Carlos chuckles. “What was the one thing I would always complain to you about when I was away racing?” Lack of privacy? “Okay, second thing I raved about…” When you don’t answer, he sheepishly wiggles his brows. “How tired I was with my team. It’s exhausting because like it or not—we’re not at our prime. I don’t think we will be for a couple of years. But for my benefit, I’ll be gone, and then it’s only going to fall on-”

“Me,” you finish, glossy eyes dancing through his painful expression.

 He nods. “Listen, Charles will be fine. Mentally not, but he’ll do just okay. It’s you I’m worried about. Not only will you dive in, nose first into a world of ruthless men, but you’ll always be the entire blame. In their eyes, it'll be you. What did you do wrong? How could you fuck up? And sure, you might sometimes—it's inevitable— but other times you won’t. But you’re a girl, and that’s enough for the fingers to be pointed at you.”

Shaking your head profusely, you instantly reach up to catch your hair from falling from its tiring up-do. He helps you out, combing his fingers nicely, though this time it doesn’t get rid of the queasy feeling. He was right. God, why did he have to be right? 

“I’m well aware of what I’m about to get myself into. But I think I can handle it. I can’t not do it—imagine how many girls it would help pave the way for? I’m sure as fuck it won’t be easy, and it might threaten my sanity, but I need to do this. And I’m sorry.”

An unfamiliar wave crashes against his warm eyes, a low breath being expanded into the air. You can feel it, taste it. Mint mojito. Your body told you, you liked it, with the way you wanted to lean in and kiss him—just to confirm. Pursing your lips, you continue. “You have your future decided and I have mine.”

With a hesitant bow, and a tide of curls flying forward, he clears his throat. “You’ve always been this way. Dedicated. And I could never decipher why. Until now.” He can’t help but brush his nose against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, allowing him to appreciate your pretty features. “If you’re sure, then I’m right behind you.”

You almost want to laugh, but are too scared to ruin the moment, so instead count his freckles. “I am…” A sharp inhale. “But what’s the second thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said ‘first of all’. I would assume there’s more…” You know there is, but you just want to hear him say it aloud. You’d seen the way he glared viciously at Lalo, chest firming. You’d seen the way things had shifted between you two, months prior, after his break up.

If this racing thing doesn’t work out, you would make a killer artist. He whistles.

Down boy, you joke. It’s just a swan. I resonate with them. 

He sits up straighter. Then consider me a swan, too.

You laugh loudly, tossing your head back as he smiles. Why all of a sudden?

Just.

“It took me a while to get here, but I’m here.” He cradles your delicate face. “I think I love you. I-I mean I know I love you. Your stubbornness, your compliance. Your level-headedness, your intrusive actions. Your need to persevere and be better—even if others make it hard on you.” You giggle, poking his chest. “But above all, I love the way you made me work for it. I’m glad you did because how else could I have realized if you didn’t drag that dead-beat?”

“Hey! He’s nice!”

The 29 year old tsks. “Nice isn’t enough and you know it.” His pink lips graze over yours as you lean in too. “You’ve always been a smart girl…” He’s about to kiss you when you slide back, leaving him hanging. He clenches his jaw, seeming teased. 

“I love swans because I know I can love as deep as one.” 

“I can too.”

“And I know, you know, that I love you too.”

“I do know that.”

“And I lit you up on fire, but only on paper!”

His brows furrow. “Yeah, we can circle back to that. But I don’t care. I love all that about you. And I want you to know my father has always been proud of you.” He winks. “But never as much as me.”

“We’re doing this then?” you ask nervously. “Y-you’re still going to have to grovel. I don’t give up that easily. Especially after all you’ve put me through.”

Carlos gently nods, eyes adoring you. “I’ve waited more than a decade for this moment. What’s one more?”

And he kisses you.

taglist: @urfavnoirette @lpab @d3kstar @namgification @myownwritings

*feel free to let me know if you would like to be included in the general taglist!!

[haechoxo]

[7:07 pm]

cw; suggestive lol,,

“it wasn’t supposed to be complicated,” you admit, your voice softening. “we were both stressed with school and work, and it just… happened. i thought maybe, eventually, he’d see me as more than just a friend. but now… i don’t know what to think.” you feel a lump forming in your throat, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on you as you recall the day your arrangement with haechan started.

your tiny apartment was filled with the scent of coffee and the sound of pages turning. you and haechan were huddled at the coffee table, textbooks, notes, and highlighters spread out before you. finals week was taking its toll, and the exhaustion was evident in both your expressions.

haechan stretched, letting out an exaggerated yawn. “ugh, i can’t take it anymore. my brain feels like mush!”

not glancing up from your notes, stifling a yawn of your own. “just a few more days, and we can sleep for a week.”

he smirked, leaning back on his arms where he sat on the dingy rug. “or, you know, we could find a more fun way to relieve some stress.”

you raised an eyebrow, too tired to fully engage with his antics. “like what? please don’t say more coffee, because i’m pretty sure it’s running through our veins at this point.”

he leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “nah, i was thinking something a bit more… intimate.”

your pen paused mid-sentence, finally looking at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. “intimate, huh? like what, a hug?”

he chuckled, shaking his head. “we could fuck.”

you stared at him, dumbfounded, your fatigue momentarily forgotten as your mouth felt incredibly dry, “a-are you serious?”

“dead serious,” he replied, his tone playful as he shrugs, “we’re both stressed, and we’re best friends, what better way to work it out?”

you blinked, trying to process his suggestion, not that the offer wasn’t tempting, the amount of times you pictured kissing his perfect pouty lips, but still! “donghyuck, i don’t… what if it makes things weird?”

he reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “it won’t, i promise. we’re adults, we can handle this. besides, if we can’t help each other out, who can we rely on?”

you chewed on your lower lip, his words doing little to ease the anxiety bubbling up inside you. “i don’t know, hyuck….” all you can think about is your feelings bubbling over, and he finds out in the worst way possible.

“come on, y/n,” he coaxed, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your hand. “trust me, it’s fine, it’ll be fun!”

you sighed, feeling a mix of nervousness and curiosity. “okay, but if this goes badly, i’m blaming you entirely.”

he grinned, joining you on the couch, “deal. now, let’s get out of study mode for a bit. my brain needs a break from all this academic torture.”

the air between you charged with anticipation as he sat down beside you, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. you hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with what-ifs, but haechan’s gentle touch and soft smile as he leaned closer gave you the reassurance you needed.

“still okay?” he murmured, his breath warm on your skin.

“yeah,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. “just... nervous.”

“don’t be shy,” he said softly, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face. “it’s just me, remember?”

you nodded, his lips brushing yours softly at first, testing the waters. your heart raced as you kissed him back, the familiarity of his presence merging with the freshness of the situation, it almost felt natural. he deepened the kiss, one hand finding it’s way to your waist, pulling you closer, while his other held your face, thumb caressing your cheek.

kissing him was everything you imagined it would be—gentle, yet intense, filled with unspoken emotions and years of hidden feelings. as his lips moved against yours, you felt a mixture of relief and uncertainty, the weight of your decision pressing down on you.

just as the kiss began to deepen further, you pulled back slightly, your forehead resting against his, breathing heavily as he continued, kissing down your neck.

as if he’s done it a million times before.

“can i keep going?” he whispered against the column of your neck, his voice low.

previous - next

a/n ; erm… can u tell it was my first time writing a kiss scene🤓 im actually sooo grossed out this was an experience i never thought id breach the topic of… anyway! hope u enjoy!! advice n ur thoughts are appreciated! xoxo jelly

[amphitriteswife]

Lookism characters babysitting a baby hc!

✨ :P

Jonggun, Goo Kim and James Lee (young)

🕶️Jonggun🕶️

🚬 Gun wouldn’t do it out of his own, it’s either because he wants the money or because Charles asked him to. The only child he’ll watch/ take care of willingly is Yenna.

🚬 Gun needs to know it advance if he will babysit a child, that way he will not smoke for a few days to really ‘cleanse’ his body. Aka making sure his breath and clothes dont stink like cigarettes

🚬 He’s not a type that baby talks. He’ll talk normally and have a regular conversation with the baby, yet seems to understand what they are saying, even the parents are amazed.

🚬 ‘baby, do you think speed beats brute strength in a fight?’ *baby gurgling* ‘yes, me too, i think they are both good in their own way. What a smart baby you are’

🚬 Usually when he’s outside or needs to run arrands with the baby he has those baby carriers. He’ll put the baby in it and usually keep one hand on their head to make sure they don’t bump their head and to show affection.

🚬 sometimes he lets them climb onto him if they’re in crawling stage. He’ll make sure that they won’t be harmed and his UI helps with reflexes so he’ll catch them for sure. He’s probably not moving an inch when they do so too.

🚬 even though he doesn’t show much affection nor baby talks, he finds them absolutely adorable. He likes those chonky cheeks and often caresses the baby on their cheek. Ofcourse he washes his hands and uses hand sanitizer.

🚬 sometimes when he takes off his sunglasses the baby takes interests in it and reaches out for it. For gun its no problem since the baby is then occupied doing something else, meaning he doesn’t have to entertain them as they are doing it themselves. And he probably has 100 other sunglasses at home.

🚬 jonggun likes quiet babies or very cheerful babies. He experienced lots with different kind of reactions, for example the babies crying when they see his eyes, or parents whispering that he looks demonic. Which he doesn’t care about tbh

🚬 the best thing about it is his paycheck. I feel like jonggun would want a slight high pay for taking care of the baby. But it has its positive side as he’s very good with the baby depending in terms of safety and taking care of them.

🚬 his opinions on changing their nappy is divided. When the baby lets him do his thing he’d be pretty chill with it. But when they start rolling around and crawling away he had to take a very big sigh. And he’ll probably charge you for that.

💸Goo kim💸

💳He would actually be 50/50 babysitting but do it regularly as a side job from his main job, and yes it’ll probably be illegal cause he 100% wants it in cash and won’t pay taxes for it.

💳 He thinks all babies are cute, pinches their cheeks, cradles them, holds them in the air, baby talks. This man would become a nanny if he could, but ofcourse it’s all for the money🤑

💳 Goo isn’t a fan of nappy changing, he dislikes it yet knows its an important part of his job. Although it’s rough sometimes. Especially when he deals with it outside for example or he finds himself in a difficult situation where he cant change them, he always manages to do it eventually

💳 ‘you ’re so cute baby! Do you like me? Do you think i’m nice?’ *baby noises* ‘aww you do, see this man named Jonggun doesn’t think so. He’s being ridiculous right?’ *baby noise* ‘yes, next time i’ll steal all his Prada bags.’

💳 He will take them out for walks and actually carry them despite having a baby carrier clasped on his chest. He will go to the park, do some shopping. Do some cooking. Do some talking. Just everything to entertain the baby.

💳 probably buys the baby things if they grab something in the store or seem to stare at something. If it keeps them entertained its all the better. And it’s not expensive either so he doesn’t complain much about it.

💳 dresses the baby in cute outfits. Usually he lays all the outfits on the floor and lets the baby crawl to which on the like, he does it with everything. Jumpers, shirts, bows, shoes, skirts, dresses. Anything.

💳 he’ll have beef with the parents for buying baby stuff and not following the diet and basically taking them anywhere. Some will let him do it again and others won’t.

💳 even if he thinks babies are cute. He HATES the sound of them crying. He’ll panic, get exhausted, try to get them to stop but still fail and then just sit there rethinking his life.

💳 He and Jonggun would lowkey meet up when both of them are babysitting. And let the babies play with each other while they talk about various things.

💳 despite Goo having money and being able to afford high end baby foods. He prefers to cook or blend and make his own. Ofcourse making sure the baby isn’t allergic to anything, he’ll usually make soup or porridge for the baby and decorate it so that they won’t refuse to eat it.

🍬James Lee🍬

🍭 Man is poor okay, even if he works under Charles blud was still in his highschool student phase so he was probably broke asf and needed money. And no he aint watching crystal.

🍭 He, like Goo, also thinks babies are cute and prefers them over toddlers. That’s because toddlers can be very spoiled or run away and blud does NOT have the energy for it.

🍭 He likes the smell of baby powder. So when he has to powder the baby he uses it too. He sniffs baby powder instead of drugs.

🍭 james feels really protective for the babies he’s sitting. He think’s they’re super tiny and fragile what makes his heart melt but also feel very protective from his instinct.

🍭 when he holds the baby he lets them munch on his muscles if they’re teething. He doesn’t rly mind and as long as they’re not in pain he just thinks it’s fine.

🍭 people mistake him as being a single teenage dad most of the time. ‘Hey did you see the dude with the red hair and the baby?’ ‘Yeah, it wouldn’t surprise me if he has a kid, he’s probably bussing it down’ he was in fact, not bussing it down.

🍭 he’ll use the baby to practice his tests. As in he’ll explain what he had to learn to the baby and practice his presentations. The baby usually claps after he’s done or giggles what makes him super happy

🍭 He’ll also try to teach the baby how to speak and walk depending on how old they are, he’ll help with their development and speaks with them. He often curses because well he’s a teen, but tries his best not to use it in front of the baby

🍭 the most reliable out of all the 3 tbh. He’s more a big brother type to the baby than a nanny/ care taker. He’ll come see the baby if he had time. Or for example says hi if he sees them at the park with their parents.

🍭 He’s not the type to use a baby carrier but rather a stroller cause he doesn’t have to carry the baby all the time and can let them sit/ lay in it. Especially when they get sleepy. He likes strolling outside with the baby and going to the park/ beach

🍭 baby will be home safe and happy if James is the one who babysat. And he’s 100% asked to baby sit again. Which made him popular but because he has school he only had standard ppl he’ll sit for.

Thank you all for reading! 🩵

[carpentvrs]

The End — Mattheo Riddle

pairing :: mattheo riddle x reader

summary :: all things must come to an end, right?

based on the song the end by tom odell

warnings :: cursing (like one or two times), (mentions of) addiction & substance abuse & a toxic household, angst!! no use of y/n, tom‘s mattheo‘s brother, after hogwarts au, voldy doesn’t exist

a/n :: very angsty but i hope you like it anyway! again, english isn’t my native language so please don’t mind any mistakes. if requested, I’m up for a part two! biggest thank you to alex for helping me write <33 rebolgs are very appreciated

some things begin with the knowledge of them having an end. like watching a movie or reading a book, like going on a walk or on vacation. soon enough you will turn off the tv, close the book, return home, and tell your friends all about your summer days. if the movie is bad, you know it won’t go on forever. one more hour and you can walk out the cinema. if the book is good, you can reread it sometime, if it’s bad, close it. you can always or never again go on walks and if you don’t or do enjoy your summer trip, you know you’ll come back home either way. So many different possibilities, always the same fate. It has to end one day.

a relationship isn’t like that. it can either go on forever, until both lovers fall into the nothingness, trying to find each other even in the afterlife, hand in hand in every universe.

or it’ll end. in a peaceful or in a painful way. it ends with ’ i don’t think we want the same things for our future ‘ or with infidelity. it ends with different beliefs or with different lovers. it ends with one trying and the other giving up, it ends with one failing and the other failing to help.

mattheo riddle feels as though you two are growing apart, your usually interlocked fingers slipping through each others, no one reaching to strengthen the hold. he knows it’s his fault, he puts you through things you shouldn’t have to go through. he tries to get clean, but both of you know that with him, it’s always one wobbly step forward and three steady ones back. he tries nonetheless.

“uhm, hey, can we talk, maybe? go for a walk in the park if you’d like?”

you know what he wants to talk about. you hadn’t seen each other in a while, despite being in a relationship – if you could still call it that. not seeing each other for a month, that’s not usual, right? at least it shouldn’t be. you know it and he knows it, there’s no denying. at least you agreed to meet up now.

he puts on his leather jacket and grabs his keychain, the rattling sound of his keys and the many key rings and charms colliding together reminding him of your promise. if you make it through to next month, i’ll craft you another key ring. try for me, love. please. you did it just as a little reminder that you do care. but he’s never managed a whole month before. maybe the bottle opener attached to the key chain was a bigger reminder that eventually, one beer wouldn’t hurt him. or two.

you made key rings and charms for almost everyone. all your friends have them and your family does too. wether its an initial of their name or of their partner‘s name, a symbol or whatever else they wished for, you made it for them. and everyone loves them. so does mattheo, you thought. or did. otherwise he’d surely make more effort to treat them with care and most of them wouldn’t have scrapes and scratches all over them, and there wouldn’t be a crack in your initial either, which, to no one’s surprise, was another result of one-too-many drunken nights.

he wants to make things right, and he’s certain it’s gonna work. spending time together in the park you went to after your first date sounds nice, doesn’t it?

your first official date was in a small pub, a few months after your joint time in Hogwarts had ended. you still remember walking through the rose garden in the north side of that park after that date. the sky was painted in a velvety black, the sun‘s final farewell long forgotten and the gates were already shut. but you managed to sneak in anyway. he picked a rose for you and you appreciated the gesture more than anything, soon enough you and him both had a little rose charm attached to your keychains. he lost his, you still have yours.

looking at it now, you should’ve realized then that the way he stumbled on the way back home was already a warning sign that he didn’t hold back when alcohol was involved. And if he couldn’t keep it together on a first date, then why would he around friends? Why would he around his family, why would he around yours? And why would he not use it as a way to calm his nerves whenever life gets serious when he so obviously already did that for nothing more than a harmless first date with a person he’s known for almost longer than he’s not?

you know most of his problems go way back. they come from his father’s unloving and cold gaze and his mother’s absence whenever his father lifted his finger. as if that wasn’t enough, his brother tom would always be in the spotlight, while mattheo was kept hidden away in the shadows. if that’s how he felt, no wonder he had to find a way to forget all about it.

you tried to help. you always did.

but how were you supposed to help someone who didn’t want help himself? drugs surely aren’t the only way out. self control is a term long forgotten in mattheo‘s mind, and it was solely on him to change that.

hence you’re not as certain as him that this talk is going to help. mattheo has made too many empty promises, told too many lies and had too many accidents. sometimes even unforgivable ones. the hand that rested on that red haired girl’s lower back every time you’d meet up with your friends, that couldn’t just be a mistake. you’d love to know what he whispered in her ear whenever he had too much to drink, and you crave to know her replies, considering the relationship between you and mattheo wasn’t ever a secret. at least you didn’t make it one.

he’s already sitting on a bench in the park, carefully petting a dog that was busy sniffing the ground beneath him. mattheo sees you and immediately stands up to make his way over to you, leaving the dog behind to run back to its owner.

“they kinda look alike, don’t they?”

“who?”

“that dog and its owner, same eye and hair colour”

you smile slightly and look up at mattheo. your good looking, sweet and romantic matty. you used to be so deeply in love, one look at him and you were on cloud nine, swooning and giggling with nothing but pure adoration and love in your eyes. your little dates used to be fun, with deep conversation and lighthearted gossip sessions with moments of comforting silence filling the spaces in between.

and now? meaningless topics and useless small talk. Just the same as your last few meetups one month ago. It was more of a chore than it was enjoyable. some time has passed, the birds loudly chirping while you and him walked with slow steps, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, yours swinging slowly on either side of your body.

„i’ve been clean for almost three weeks now, actually. 20 days.“

your eyes widened and your head quickly turns to look at him. you’re happy for him, you truly are. but your heart still doesn’t feel as full as it usually would with mattheo, and if he managed to keep that 20 day streak during a whole month of almost no contact between you two, then he would manage it also when you’re not with him anymore. right?

„oh, that’s great! ‘m proud of you, mattheo,“

„you don’t sound as happy as I expected,“ he begins, „is something wrong?“

at that moment he knows he has to claw back his confidence. maybe you had already given up, and he just didn’t want to believe it. he know you well, without a doubt. it was the lack of his nickname that gave it away. your loving ‚ matty ‘ was replaced by a simple ‚ mattheo ‘ , no nickname, no pet name. 20 days, for him, is a long time. why aren’t you half as happy as when he told you about his one week achievement 2 months ago? is it because just a day after telling you about it, you found him asleep on his couch with a half empty whiskey bottle on the table in front of him?

„no- i mean, yes, actually. it’s just-“ you stumbled over your words. you don’t want to have to say it, don’t want to say it loud, don’t want to see his pained reaction and, most importantly, you don’t want to be the cause of it. but you know you can’t keep going like this, you had lost hope a while ago, and this is the only way out.

„do you think we can be friends?“

he blinks. „what?“

your voice is shakier than ever. „friends, mattheo. i can’t keep going like this. i want to break up, once and for all. our relationship has been going downhill for too long now, you know that.“ your eyes are fixated on your shoes, not daring to look him in his eyes.

he swears he can he hear his heart being shattered and torn apart and feels how a part of his soul is leaving his body, leaving the rest to grow tired and dark and empty. tears slowly fill his eyes as he reaches for your hands, making you look at him.

you do, but quickly pull your arms back. „you can’t do this to me! i- i need you, i can’t do this without you, i can’t!“ warm tears roll down your face, and you want to hug him so bad. keep his body close to yours and not let go.

but you have to let go.

mattheo hates it. but if being friends with you means he doesn’t lose you completely, then maybe it’ll be okay. and if he really loved you, and you really loved him, then maybe, if he gets better, you’d come back. he hopes.

„and if i change?“

„maybe, matty- mattheo,“ your voice trembles „but i need to be sure you don’t hurt either of us for now. i need time, but i don’t want to lose you. friends mattheo, please?“

„you wanna be friends? after all thi-“

„mattheo i‘m begging you“

he pinches his nose, tears streaming down his face. this is his fault. of course it is. this is the consequence he has to deal with. He should’ve realized sooner that his alcohol consumption wasn’t only his, but also the problem of the people around him. and now he loses you just because of his reckless and stupid behavior. he has to change. he needs to.

„alright! fuck, alright. friends. i‘ll make it better, i swear. i won’t disappoint you, not again.“

you nod, mustering up a smile as well as you could. you hug him one last time, feeling his hand wrap around you body with a tight hold on your shirt. you feel his tears falling onto your shirt, and he feels yours.

he hates it, but maybe he needs this wake-up call. he will change. 20 days and many more to come, he won’t go back. and he’ll do it for you.

the sun slowly sets and you’ve reached the same rose garden you’d come to after your first date. the memories flood back but it’s no use.

mattheo and you, you’ve now reached the end.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

it wasn’t until two days later that you went to the same park again with your best friend alex. „isn’t that mattheo over there?“

your heart paused for a second as you looked over and saw the boys with beer bottles in their hands. draco took a sip as theo had already downed almost half oh his beer in one swig.

you felt your heart break thinking about how mattheo already started drinking again after only two days. until you actually looked at his hands, finding nothing but a simple can of coke.

you left out a sigh of relief, smiling to yourself.

your eyes locked and he smiled back at you, even his eyes seemingly lighting up. you blushed slightly, turning you head back to alex. 22 days wasn’t a lot, but it was great starting point. especially for him.

„yeah, that’s my matty.“

hope you liked it! requests are open <3

[hello-from-nrc-infirmary]

Vern's Hometown: Centennial Celebration

Book 1: A Founding Fiasco

Chapter 1: A Tiny Dilemma

"Oh! And umm... anyone who needs their refill while I'm gone-"

"-has to present their student ID and we check the chart... We know! Just go," Pam snaps as they tap their roots on the desk.

Vern nods, more to himself than the plants, "o-okay.... umm... r-right. Okay. Call if you ummm... need anything!"

The crocuses start prodding him to move towards the door. All of them start talking slightly over each other, "don't worry! Bennet is coming in to help!!!!"

He hesitantly lets them push him out while trying to not step on any of their thin roots. Not even a moment after the little flowers shove him into the hall, the infirmary door slamming shut echoes off the stone walls. He blinks, adjusting his satchel before starting off towards the mirror hall. Each footstep disturbs the silence of the school.

It was too early to leave, and yet... his amber gaze drops to the basket in his grip. The lavender cloth covering it slightly rustles as he walks. He hadn't found someone to watch his bunnies. The centennial will keep him busy and his stomach twists at the thought of not having enough time for them. He considers asking one of Uncle's... no, they would also be busy.

As he arrives at the mirror chamber, Koa lifts his head from where he's laying. Vern let the elk out of the stables earlier. His familiar had sent him out of the room several times in the past few hours. The elk's ear twitches, watching Vern carefully as he stares at the mirrors.

"Patience... you-"

"-I know," he sighs, grip tightening as he turns to Koa, "I'm umm... my stomach is all um... knotted a-and ummm... my hands are umm... shaky, too..."

"That is your nerves and anxiety. He will-"

"-and if he doesn't? What if no one-"

"-Vern," Koa stands, taking a few strides towards him. The elk bends its head down to press against Vern's forehead, "everything will be alright."

Chapter 2: The Sleepiest Solution

“Hey~“

Vern jumps a little at the familiar voice. Smiling as he turns, he takes care to not jostle the basket of bunnies too much. His nerves are somewhat eased to see Steel finally join him. Part of him wanted to ask about the lack of any visible blot, but the memory of Pam’s scathing remarks tie his tongue.

“G-good morning, I’m umm… thank you, again for um…” he pauses, noticing Nightshade attempting to nose his way out of the basket. Vern frowns a little as he carefully tries to nudge the rabbit’s head back under the blanket.

“Eh, no problem..” he earns a shrug and a raised brow, “you brought the bunnies?”

Vern lifts the basket higher to let Steel pet Nightshade, “I umm… couldn’t find someone to um… watch them…”

“Hm...” a playful grin slowly crosses Steel’s features, “I know someone~”

He looks up at him, “r-really? Are you umm…. sure they won’t mind?”

“Sure...” Steel only winks “it’ll be fun~”

“O-okay…” Vern fidgets slightly, but quickly follows him. He’s hesitates before stepping through the Diasomnia mirror. The ever-looming storm causes his nerves to spike as lightning flashes. Walking faster, he does his best to stay close to Steel while his amber gaze continuously darts to the sky. His muscles lose some tension as they enter the dorm. Every window they pass, he unconsciously checks the sky. Vern briefly draws Steel’s attention as he accidentally bumps into his arm.

“… right. I can take them for you, if you want,” he offers, his voice a bit softer than normal.

Vern stiffens at a distant rumble of thunder, “I-I would umm… rather um… s-stay…”

“… alright..”

They eventually reach a familiar door, giving Vern pause as Steel steps into the dorm. Despite his initial hesitation, he follows and looks around. It’s probably a good thing that Silver has not woken up, or perhaps it’s the opposite?

“You can set them over there.”

Nodding, Vern places the basket in the corner. Smiling to himself, he whispers a small farewell as he casts for some vines to create a nice enclosure for them.

“A-and you’re umm… sure he won’t mind?”

Shrugging, Steel leads Vern back into the hall, “animals like him, no worries~”

Vern nods as they head back towards the mirror chamber. He barely notices Steel quickly sending a text and quietly hopes he tells Silver about the bunnies.

Chapter 3: A Land Called Paradise

Vern looks around as they return to the mirror chamber. Koa seems to have stretched his legs a bit while waiting. The elk's ear twitches as the pair returns, aware of more footsteps heading towards the chamber.

"You found a suitable place for the small ones?"

Vern glances at Steel, a bit of humor lighting his own eyes after a moment, "I ummm... think so, yeah..."

"Good," Koa nods, "it's almost time for the others to be arriving..."

Book 1: [1] [2] [3]

Book 2: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5A] [5B] [6] [7]

Book 3: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

[katswifey]

K. Bakugo x !afab reader! His s/o with a small chest. 🍒

Genre: Fluff + Slight nsfw mention + comfort ♡

Katsuki honestly never really noticed nor really cared about the size of your chest. He’s always been looking for someone with the same attitude as him. Someone who’s strong and pretty independent. But regardless he loves you for you! No questions asked. If he sees you being insecure about the size difference out of every other girl in class, you are in for a lecture..

“Y/n, you are so dumb. I don’t care what size your chest is. So stop whining about it.”

He’d huff at the end of these conversations more often than usual. But a lot of the time you’d find a reason to still be upset. (me fr)

“Katsuki, you don’t get it. Every girl in our class has these big boobs and it just makes me wonder if I’m even remotely attractive.”

Tears stained on your face. He’d sigh and pull you into a tight forceful hug.

“Your body is the last thing I’m worried about. All I want in a partner is you, regardless if you have a hot body or not. To me, your body is perfect anyways. lemme tell you right now. You are perfect Y/n, don’t let these thoughts or useless other people make you think otherwise, got it?”

As you hug him, you silently cry into his shirt and eventually look up at him and nod.

“I love your tits the way they are. I love everything about you, that’s a fact. No one should have an opinion anyways, and if they do the only opinion that matters is mine. I love the way they feel and look when I have my way with you.”

While blushing, you start to feel better overall. You still aren’t completely confident about your chest, but hearing what he had to say made you think so much more less bad about yourself.

“Thanks Kat, I’m sorry. I wish I was more comfortable and confident in my own skin but, it’ll get better I’m sure. I’m glad though you love me, for being me. I guess being less visually attractive has its own special benefits.”

You smiled feeling better, pulling away from his embrace wiping away tears. He nodded and kissed you on the lips.

“Mhm, I know I’m not the best with words or whatever. But I mean what I say you know. Even if it’s harsh or not. You the prettiest girl I’ve ever met.”

You looked at him with pure awe and just wanted to smother him with your unconditional love and affection. You dragged him to his dorm and you got into some pajamas, basically just short shorts and a baggy t-shirt of Katsuki. Both of you cuddled til the lights were out and both you were sound asleep.

———-

A/n: AAAAHH!!! First actual post!!!!! Feel free to leave me suggestions!!! This was super fun and I love to write!!! Give me some good scenarios!! 

[auburnitzy]

KAHIDLAW

CHARACTERS – NAWA + MK (OC X CANON)

DISCLAIMERS – Unintended/Accidental Cause of Injury

SUMMARY - "It's all for you."

“... Don’t tear your head off nor stick your neck out for me.” Nawa murmured out of a blue. Her gaze was still trained on the distance, away from him, perhaps on purpose or hesitance.

That came out of nowhere.

Still, it doesn’t silence the lives around them. The push and pull of waves crashing on the shore. The sound of children giggling in the distance. Some chatter as the people on the docks pass by. None of them would be ingrained in his mind unlike the words that just spilled out from her lips.

“Why not?” With a tilt of his head, MK shot her a look of confusion and worry, something that he should have grown accustomed to in his years of friendship with her. “I’m starting to think like you’ve got something under your sleeves…”

“No, I’m just telling you in case something happens in the future.”

“... Okay, that definitely doesn’t sound ominous.” He squinted his eyes, studying her for any signs of trouble before sighing. “You know you’re making it sound like you have a death wish, right?”

For a split second, her eyes widened before she raised her hand to wave him off. “That’s not… is that how I really came across? That wasn’t my intention… but you get it, right?”

“... Yeah. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop worrying about the stuff you’re gonna get yourself into.”

...

… Is this what you meant?

He watches as a blue lotus floats past, followed by one and another before it eventually gives way to more, leaving blurs of blue blooms wading past their boat.

It wasn’t until a quick snap of fingers reeled him back in surprise, his attention returning to that of the other passenger in this quaint little boat.

“They’re utpalas,” Nawa murmured, that same infuriating smile that he grew to both despise and adore settled on her face as she held up a bloom to him. Now, it was just a reminder to him that it was just her way of trying to bring light into such a grim reality. “You probably know by now that…”

“... Each petal represents a death.” he murmured. It still doesn’t ease the revelation that weighed heavily in his shoulders. He’s not sure if it’ll even go away. Maybe it’s just something he’ll live with for the rest of his life, knowing that someone would willingly put themselves through different stages of hell just to get him where he is now. “Your deaths.”

A low hum breathed past her lips before she set the flower back into the waves, letting it float past along with its other kin.

“You still think it’s your fault, don’t you?” Nawa placed a palm on her cheek, staring at him with what could be called amusement and slight censure. Calm. How could you be so calm? How, in the face of such a terrible circumstance? “I told you it’s not. It will never be your fault. I’ll keep saying that until you get it.”

MK doesn’t respond, unsure if he’s even able to at this point. He wants to rip his hair out, maybe even lash out and throttle her– but he knows he wouldn’t ever really lay a finger on her. He simply can’t bring himself to.

“Flower petals fall–” Her hand settles in his hair, a familiar sensation he still finds comfort in, yet this time, it only brought forth frustration and indignance in its wake.

He finishes it before she can. “–But the flower endures.”

“The form perishes, but the being endures.” A grin curled into her lips once more before settling into a smaller one. “I’m surprised you even remember the stuff I say sometimes. It’s sweet. That’s why I adore you.”

And the dam breaks. He feels his eyes burn as his vision blurs, big fat tears welling in his eyes before it devolves into ugly, guttural sniffles and sobs. It honestly makes him feel like a baby, unsure if these tears were out of anger, sadness, or a torturous concoction of both.

Some part of him wants to hate her. Push her away so she could finally be free from the chaos that was him. Sever the threads of fate and destiny that tangled them both – but he knows he cannot. She won’t let him.

A thumb brushes a tear away from his eye. Even then, he couldn’t bring his gaze into hers, giving nothing but clenched teeth and furrowed brows in exchange for her worried glance. It frustrates him to no end, how she could care for him despite his harsh treatment and attempts to push her away.

He hates how genuine it is. How genuine she is, because it makes it more unbearable for him to hate her in general. Even the thought of it unsettles him. The feeling was scary, the direct opposite of what he truly felt.

He condemned her to this. The least he could do is to stop being ungrateful and be honest with both her and himself– because deep down, that’s what he wanted. The only thing that made him hesitate was the fact that she’s being punished for the sin of simply caring for him– both as a friend and a lover.

His hand grasps her wrist, clutching it with an iron grip. “Why won’t you hate me?!”

“I love you.”

“Hell, even abandon me?!”

“I love you.”

“Why do you insist on protecting me?!”

“I love you.”

“Stop saying that and tell me the truth!”

MK’s chest heaved up and down, his grip tightening to the point that purple splotches slowly started to form on the skin of her wrist.

Realizing this, he quickly lets go and shoots her a look of contrition and panic, only to be met with the same irritatingly calm and resigned smile she held only for him.

“... What else can I even say?” She spoke as if he didn’t just harm her. Grip her to the point that it left ugly bruises on her skin. “I love you and that’s all there is to it.”

[starry-nights-garden]

Mingi ✧ 9:37pm

✧ Ateez Mingi x gn!reader ✧ words: ~1.2k ✧ genre: angst, comfort ✧ warnings: reader breaking down crying, mentions of reader considering hitting themselves

Desc.: Your boyfriend Mingi notices something’s off about you right away as you’re trying to keep it together so as not to break down crying in front of him. In the end the tears come out anyway, and he’s right there with you to comfort you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure,” you answer coldly, feeling yourself getting annoyed at your boyfriend’s repeated question. You busy yourself with rummaging through your bag that you had put on the chair in your room - at this point you forgot what you were searching for in the first place, but you obsessively keep your hands busy with its contents anyway. Mingi falls silent, strangely silent, or maybe it’s your overall agitated state that causes you to tense up, because you desperately wish for him to just start a casual conversation with you about fuck knows what.

“I don’t think so…” you hear him mutter, and the sadness resounding in his voice has you gulping. You bite your lower lip because you know if you don’t, your own sadness will break out of you as well, and so eventually you decide it would be better to go find something else to do, solely for the purpose of moving into a position where instead of seeing the side of your face, he can’t see your face at all. You move to your wardrobe, opening it in an attempt to decide on your outfit for tomorrow in advance, but Mingi’s gaze that’s glued to your back won’t let you focus. “Y/N,” he calls out your name, speaking softly, and again you feel yourself coming close to the verge of breaking.

“What?” You manage to force out a single word, your voice cracking from the strain you’re putting on your whole body, and upon hearing his next words, you feel the anxiety spreading through your body like an explosion.

“Look at me,” he says. “Please.” Your legs trembling, you know you shouldn’t refuse. If you want him to believe you when you say you’re just fine, you should prove it to him by putting on a brave face, just like you had done all day. And so you turn around, and you think you end up glaring at him instead of the confident expression you had planned, but you can’t tell. It’s almost like the fear and the pain you’ve been holding in for days is making you numb to all other sensations you should be feeling in your body. 

Your boyfriend has made himself comfortable at the edge of your bed, upper body leaned slightly forward as he shoots you a worried expression. He knows. And still you stay stubborn. You’ve broken down every time you came home and were finally alone in your room at night for the past few days now, you don’t want to go through this again - especially not in front of him. You don’t want him to worry, you don’t want to burden him, and you will make damn sure he won’t. So why does it feel like he’s about to break down the walls you’ve built up around yourself with his bare hands?

“Y/N,” he says your name again, sweetly, and you currently hate him for it, because it’s not helping with your plans of keeping it together at all. “Come here.” And then he pats the empty space next to him, on top of your fluffy blanket, and you freeze up completely. You know that if you walk over there and sit down next to him it’ll be just like the past few nights - and yet, even just the thought of it makes you tear up. It’s like hearing his words has formed a crack in your facade, and with every breath you take and let out again, it’s only getting bigger. You can’t stop it anymore, and as you sink to the ground and the sobs violently make their way to the surface, you close your eyes and hide your face behind your hands in one last sorry attempt to not let him see what’s really going on inside.

“Baby…” you can hear him breathing out right beside you only moments later, his steady hands placed on your shoulders as he crouches down next to you.

“I’m s-sorry… I’m… s-so sorry…” you whimper as the tears stream down your face, guilt overwhelming you, but you just can’t make yourself stop crying. You form your hands into fists, considering whether punching yourself would make a difference and help you stop crying, but when you feel Mingi’s hands leaving your shoulders only to wrap around your wrists instead, the anger at yourself leaves you along with the strength in your limbs.

“It’s okay…” he mutters. “It’s okay.” He carefully adjusts your position until your back is leaning against the surface of your wardrobe door that he must’ve closed in advance, and when he leads you to lean your head against his shoulder you simply accept it. One arm wrapped around you, he pats your back gently and at a slow pace, and as you feel your heart beating in tune to his touches, you can finally somewhat relax.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you say, having trouble keeping your voice steady, but he hears you.

“Why?” he turns his head, his lips brushing against your temple. 

“Because… I dunno…” you mutter, too tired to put all your complicated thoughts into a coherent sentence.

“You don’t have to,” he answers, extending his neck so he could place his chin atop your head now as he tightens his embrace around you. “Just know that I’m here if you need me… and that you don’t need to be strong when you’re with me.”

“But-” Mingi simply shushes you and shakes his head when you’re about to protest.

“I love you for who you are, not for all the strong faces you can put on.” Upon hearing his words, you tear up again, and you instinctively hide your face in his chest, reaching out to grab his shirt now as you cling to him. His hand patting your head for a while, he continues speaking eventually. “You know I’m not always good with words, but I just want you to know that you can be yourself with me, and I’ll accept all of that - the good sides and the bad sides. Okay?”

“Okay,” you mouth an answer. With his hands back on your shoulders, he brings some distance between you two so he could get a proper look at your face, and when he sees the state you’re in, he furrows his brows. You avoid looking directly at him, still embarrassed about your puffy eyes and the tear stains on your whole face. You sniffle at him, but as he wipes away the remainder of tears on your face you can’t help but melt into his touch. “I’ll protect you,” he says, and somehow the way he’s telling you such a cheesy line so seriously unexpectedly makes you laugh. “Why?” he now whines, and as you glance at his face you can see the offended expression on it and it just makes you giggle some more. Then you shake your head, giving him a weak smile and you say,

“Nothing… I just love you.”

“Well, if it made you smile that’s all that counts, right?” 

“Yeah…” you mumble, and as you see him still sulking over your reaction you lift your hand to ruffle your fingers through his hair, before bumping your head against his chest. “Thanks… for being there for me. I mean it.”

“Of course,” Mingi answers, welcoming you back into his arms, as he lets you simply rest in his embrace, for however long you need to. 

[earthnashes]

It's been a long day, and Melon is exhausted. Ever since escaping Hookbill and those pesky Lakitus, he and Mario had been on the move almost non-stop, taking advantage of the Super Star Fruit's power to cover more distance. But it had to wear off eventually, with Mario burping off the remnant of the magic before they slowly--but surely- sunk all the way back to the forest floor and in the middle of the Sluggy Snowdrift Mountains.

As soon as they touched ground a blizzard fell upon them, and Melon set out to find suitable shelter.

So far, no such luck. No matter where he turned, all Melon could see was the vast expanse of snow, the screen of heavy snowflakes, and the dark silhouettes of tall mountain peaks in the distance. As a yoshi the cold didn't bother him as much, but he could feel the shivering of Mario upon his back even wrapped so tightly in his favorite blankie (how he managed to keep it, Melon can't be too sure).

Melon stopped for only a moment, just to pick the boy up from his back and instead cradle him close to his chest. He huffed hot air across Mario's red-tinged face, tucked his blanket closer (if that were possible). When all Mario did in response was shiver even harder, Melon let out a trill of distress; he had to find something.

With his eyes straining against the blizzard Melon set off again, head on a swivel in hopes of finding anything that could work.

His luck finally earned him a place in the form of an old burrow. It must've been home to a Huffin Puffin before it migrated. Whatever the case, it was empty, and Melon wasted no time setting the place straight.

Snow was dug out and away, debris cleared, dirt scrapped until it lay flat and dry. Only when he felt it right did he set Mario down in the bare nest, being sure to tuck him into his blanket before he settled in himself. Melon positioned himself in front of the entrance to shield the boy from the cold, curling protectively around him.

He didn't dare sleep, not at first. He waited until he felt Mario's shivering subsided, until his breath evened out into the cadence of a peaceful slumber. Until he was sure the kid was warm and secure, red eyes trained on his face for any sign of discomfort.

Mario eventually sighs and snuggles deeper into the yoshi's side, chewing contently on his binki, and it's only then Melon allows the insistent pull of sleep to drag him under.

-----------

Against the darkness of the night, three pairs of red eyes peek into the den. Even against the howl of the blizzard they can hear the reptile's rumbling from within; it's likely a purr, but one as small as a mouse can never be too careful.

Two of the three stay back, mindful of their distance, but one braves the entrance and quietly patters into the den. Closer to the yoshi and the human cub he's curled around.

The hidden mousers squeak out questioningly, but the brave one doesn't answer at first. It clambers up a rock and leans as far as it dares, peering into the sleeping face of the small child.

Brown hair? Check.

Big nose? Check.

Red hat with an M? Double check.

This is the one they were searching for. The Tweeters reported true.

Finally the brave Mouser squeaks its affirmative; perhaps a little loudly, if the sudden growl--sleepy but full of warning-- was of any indication. The rodents flee the den before they could wake the yoshi and his boy up, cowardly but excited nonetheless.

The boss will be very pleased with their findings.

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

Part 7<<– Part 8 (CURRENT) –>> Part 9 (TBA)

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

Part 8 of Melon's Adventure is here! :) We're now entering the home stretch of the first act of this story; only 2 more parts to go!

I'm super excited to finally get so close to the end, largely because I have plans on making mini artbooks out of the story's illustrations (it'll include both the art and the written shorts). The books is planned to also include things like concept art, a few WIP progress shots of some of the pages, character bios of the main characters + enemies, and unique cover art. It's gonna be a bit of an undertaking but I think it'll be fun!

At any rate, that's all for now! Apologies for the writing in this one; I've been a little sick the past few days so the quality may have suffered a little bit, but I wanted to deliver both to ya'll on time. ;_; I hope you enjoy! More to come soon!

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 15: Past

You and Joel have a conversation while on patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-14 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Mention of SA (not described) and general abuse. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 5.1k 

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Kissing Joel. 

You were kissing Joel. 

It was all you could think, for a moment. Like all your head could hold was him, the taste of him, how soft his lips were - he didn’t seem like someone who would have soft lips but his lips were soft and gentle and sweet - the oddly soothing scratch of his facial hair on your skin. For a moment, all you wanted to do was kiss him, kiss him until the day you died. 

You were kissing Joel and you were so close to him, closer than you’d been to anyone in so long and your body was starting to move of its own accord and Joel was pulling you against him and you suddenly couldn’t breathe. You didn’t want to separate from him but you couldn’t breathe. 

He pulled away from you and you squeezed your already closed eyes tight. 

“Sweetheart?” He asked softly. You could feel every twitch of muscle in his body, every adjustment his hands made against you, you were acutely aware of it all. “Hey, you’re OK, it’s just me, I’m not gonna hurt you. Just breathe, you’re safe, it’s just me…” 

You opened your eyes then. His face was still close to you but not so close that you were touching, just close enough that you could make out the different shades of brown in his iris. You focused on that, on the other small details you hadn’t been able to take in before. The different shades of brown and gray in his beard, the creases in his skin. 

It was Joel. You were safe with Joel. Even if he made you feel out of control, you could trust him. He was safe. 

“You with me?” He asked, his voice soothing and gentle. 

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly, still feeling a little breathless. 

“Need me to stop touching you?” 

You thought for a moment. You had to close your eyes again and stop looking at him to be able to actually focus on how you were feeling and not on him. 

“Might be good,” you said eventually, opening your eyes again. 

“I’m just gonna move your legs,” he said. “Then it’ll be hands off. You’re OK.” 

You just nodded and let Joel maneuver your legs off his own and settle your feet on the ground before he moved away from you on the tree trunk. You opened your eyes again, part of you resenting the distance but the part of you that felt panicky and out of control calmed enough to let you take a full breath. 

“Sorry,” you muttered after a minute. “I know it seems like I’m completely fucking insane…” 

“It doesn’t,” Joel said gently. You scoffed but his eyes met yours, all soft and open. “It doesn’t, Bambi.” 

You nodded but weren’t entirely sure you believed him. 

“Let’s get the horses settled,” he said. “And we should head in. It’s been a long day.” 

You nodded again, more certain this time. 

You took your time getting Renaissance set up for the night. Focusing on making sure she was secure, comfortable, had enough food and water. Joel finished before you and left you alone with your horse. You gave her a scratch and she lowered her large head enough that you could put your forehead to her own. She huffed a bit when you did, pressing her nose into your chest like a nudge. 

“What?” You asked her, pulling back to frown at her. She huffed again and you glared at her. “Oh don’t act like you’re some expert.” 

She nudged you with her nose again. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you sighed. “You’re right. As usual.” 

You gave her a final scratch before finding Joel again. 

He was outside, leaning against a tree, looking out at the woods. He looked back over his shoulder when he heard you coming, your hands awkwardly stuffed into your pockets. 

“Ready?” He asked. You gave him a single nod. He gave you one back and led the way into the ski lodge. 

You could tell it had been a nice place, once upon a time. The views, even through the dirty windows, were incredible. It made for a good place to keep watch. 

“When you get here, you gotta fill out the log book,” Joel said. “Putting in that we ran into trouble from a scouting party but we don’t expect any more…” 

“We don’t?” You frowned, looking back at him, your arms crossed over your chest. 

“No,” he said almost absently as he made his notes. “He was tellin’ the truth.” 

“How can you know?” You asked. 

“I know.” 

You were quiet for a moment, watching him. 

“Where’d you learn how to do that.” 

He paused his writing and looked back toward you. 

“I’ll tell you if you answer a question for me.” 

You watched him for a second. 

“Fair enough.” 

He finished writing and put down the pen before going to the couch in the middle of the room. It had clearly seen better days but you sat on the opposite end from him, anyway, bringing your legs to your chest and looping your arms around your knees. 

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” 

You said it again, more like a question this time. 

Joel’s jaw tightened for a moment before he spoke. 

“There were…” he paused and sighed. “For a few years after the outbreak, before Tommy and I made it to a QZ… Life was hard. Everything was fucking chaos, FEDRA was busy makin’ shit as bad as possible… We tried to make it on our own for a bit. Had to do a lot to survive. Learned quick how to get necessary answers out of people when we needed to.” 

You nodded slowly, trying to process that. You’d been lucky, all told, in the outbreak. So far removed from the rest of civilization, you’d run into very little in the way of trouble. But what Joel was saying tracked with what you heard from traders, especially over the first few years of it. The people who had come from outside your corner of the wilderness told gruesome stories of what life there was like. The kind of people who were gaining power then. The kind of people  like Mitchum. 

You doubted men like Mitchum and his goons would give information away lightly. It made sense that Joel might need to drag it out of them with pain. And you weren’t about to hold torturing raiders against him. 

“OK,” you said eventually. “What’s your question?” 

He looked at you for a moment, his hands in his lap, before he took a deep breath. 

“Need you to know I’m not askin’ this to hurt you,” he said slowly. “I’m askin’ because I can protect you. I want to protect you. I just can’t protect you from something I don’t know.” 

You swallowed, hard, but nodded. 

“Bambi,” he said slowly. “I need you to tell me about Mitchum.” 

***

He wanted to hold you and he couldn’t. That might be the hardest part of this, there was nothing he could do to help you with it. 

You’d kissed him and, for a moment, it was the best Joel had felt in years. It was like everything else has fallen away, like the rest of the planet outside of you stopped existing. All he wanted was to pull you closer, kiss you longer, hold you tighter, anything and everything to be with you as much as he could be. And then you froze. You stopped breathing and went stock still, like a startled animal, and he had to separate from you because what he wanted was hurting you and that killed him. 

But this might be worse. He knew what he was asking you. But he needed to know. If these men were after you he needed to know what he was dealing with, needed to know how many there were, what they were capable of and why they wanted you. Because he was going to take care of it. He was going to protect you. 

Your eyes were wide and on him and you pulled your legs a little tighter into yourself and he fought to stay on his side of the couch. Touching you would hurt you and he wasn’t sure how to help you. He just needed to stay away from you, at least for now. 

“Joel,” you said quietly, pleadingly. 

“I can’t keep you safe without knowing,” he said, an ache in his chest. “I wish I could but I can’t. I need to know about him, his operation, why he wants you back so damn bad…” 

“You’re not gonna look at me the same,” you said, your voice thick. 

“Sweetheart…” 

“You’re not,” you cut him off. “I know you’re not and…” 

“There’s nothing that someone else did to you or that you did because someone else forced you into it that’s going to change how I see you,” he said. “It’s not possible. So unless you’re tellin’ me that you… I don’t fuckin’ know, skinned puppies in your spare time before the outbreak, you’re not going to change a damn thing, not for me.” 

You laughed a little bit. 

“No,” you said. “Didn’t do that.” 

“I’m not someone you need to be afraid of,” he said softly. “Promise m’not.” 

You nodded and took a deep breath, tilting your head up to the ceiling for a moment before looking back at him, locking those wide eyes on his. 

“It started in September of 23,” you said, your voice almost oddly steady. “I’d developed a bit of a… reputation with the more nomadic folks up that way. Everyone called me Texas, that’s what the first person I ever traded with called me and the name stuck… Anyway, people knew about me, knew that I’d trade horses. So it’s not weird that he showed up looking for me. It was weird that he showed up with a horse already and it was just him and it didn’t feel like he was after horses, not really, not from how he was talking. He told me he ran with a few guys, that they needed mounts and that’s why he was there but… he was asking about my set up, what I had there. He tried to act like it was for trade but there was something wrong with it. He set my teeth on edge and he just kept looking at me. Even when I had my gun on him he just kept looking at me like I was a piece of meat…” 

Joel’s jaw tightened and he tried to ignore the way his heart rate picked up. 

“I told him to get the fuck out and if I saw him on my land again I’d kill him,” you continued. “He came back a few days later. He brought a lot more men that time. I should have just fucking shot him the first time, I should…” 

Your face twisted and you looked away as you almost spat the words at yourself. 

“It’s not your fault,” he cut you off. Your eyes snapped back to him, almost like you were remembering that he was there at all. “You were kind. Not your fault that you were kind to someone who didn’t deserve it.” 

Your jaw clenched for a second before you nodded. 

“He came back,” you took a shaky breath. “I’m not sure how many men he had with them, they were split up, I had defenses in place and shit set up but…” You took another deep breath and closed your eyes for a moment, collecting yourself, before you opened them again. You stared at your thumbs over your knees. “I tried to fight him off. I did, I killed a few of them and I thought… I was overrun. There were just too fuckin’ many of them and there was only so much I could do.

“He took me back with them to a camp,” your voice trailed off and you looked off toward a wall, jaw tight. “I wasn’t anything special at first. There were a few other women there, one who was more of a girl… Guess it doesn’t take much for a bunch of men with guns and no laws to not kill each other all the goddamn time but you have to have something otherwise it’s a bloodbath. Keeping them fed isn’t enough, keeping them out of the elements isn’t enough, you need something that they think makes life worth living, something that makes them OK with blindly following orders. Turns out the best thing is something they can use to get off. Don’t really matter what it is, willing or unwilling, just that it’s a woman and she’s warm. And that’s all I was at first.”

Joel fought to keep his face still and calm, not show the rage that was ripping through him like wildfire, burning and devouring everything. Even the shame and the loathing that he held toward himself. He knew what it took to control men like that. He’d seen it all and sat silent while it happened, too numb to the world to give a shit back then. He thought it was an excuse. That, since he didn’t partake himself, that made him better and that was enough. But it wasn’t. 

He didn’t even need think hard to picture what it would have been like for you. He’d been around that shit plenty, heard the screaming and crying and begging and pleading. It turned his stomach to think of your voice like that, to picture your face and your wide, desperate eyes latching onto him as he passed the men having their way, the nameless women thinking he would help because he’d never touched them. He never did.

“Mitchum took a liking to me,” you said. “I was always his first pick. Probably what kept me alive at first, they had to hold back with me because Mitchum would be pissed if I got killed. The girl died first, a few days after I got there. Another woman not too long after that. I managed to get away after about two weeks…” 

“They’ve been hunting you that long?” Joel asked. You frowned, confused. He frowned, too. “The men you killed before Tommy and I found you, the man now, they’ve been hunting you that long?” 

“No,” you shook your head. “No, they caught me quick. Within days. I didn’t cover my tracks well, I was distracted…” 

Joel froze. 

“How long…” he trailed off, not wanting to ask it. Not wanting to know what the answer was. 

You watched him, shifting as you did, crossing your legs in front of you instead of clutching them close to yourself. You leaned forward a little, almost like you were examining him as he pieced it all together. 

“They had me more than two years.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed to keep from vomiting. No wonder you’d been so fucking terrified, it was a goddamn miracle you would even speak to anyone at all.You were still watching him when he opened his eyes again, your face softer than he deserved. 

“You survived for two years?” 

You nodded, your mouth a thin line.  

“They got me back and Mitchum was personally offended that I’d managed to get away at all,” you scoffed a little at that. “Decided to teach me a lesson. He taught me several. But, in the end, it just made him more obsessed. He kept me for himself, after a while, but he’d share me with his right hand men. Sometimes some of the others, too, as a reward. That’s how I knew the man from today. He didn’t run with Mitchum’s crew, he was some prick from another group, one that did something big enough for Mitchum that I was apparently appropriate payment. 

“I was the only woman left, for a while,” you sighed. “The others died pretty quick. Others came and went. One lasted a few months, her name was Alyssa. I liked her. Most only lasted a few weeks, a month at most. It was like they would just… turn off. I was so fucking jealous of that, that they weren’t even in their bodies anymore. I couldn’t do that, not really. I think that’s part of why he liked me so much, he liked for it to hurt. You can’t hurt something that doesn’t feel.” 

“I’m so sorry,” he began but you cut him off. 

“I don’t want your fucking pity, Joel,” you were almost glaring at him. “Knew you wouldn’t look at me the same…” 

“It’s not pity,” he said. “You shouldn’t have gone through that. No one should and I’m sorry you did. That ain’t pity that’s just truth.”

You watched him for a moment, skeptical, before you continued. 

“I got away last time with help,” you said. “One of Mitchum’s men thought he was better than the others because he liked it if it at least seemed like I enjoyed it, that fuck. But he helped me get away when we were moving to a new place. It was easier then, about half the men were out scouting like the group we saw today.

“I didn’t think he’d be looking for me, not for this long, anyway. He’s well equipped and has a lot of fucking assholes at his disposal. More than 50 total men last time I saw them, fewer than 100, but he has plenty of friends,” you clenched your jaw for a moment and looked out the window. “Joel, if he’s coming after me and he finds out I’m in Jackson…” 

“No,” he cut you off. 

“I can survive just fine on my own.” 

“No,” he said, more forcefully this time. “No, you’re not leavin’. We know how to take care of ourselves, we’re well armed and we’re not stupid. You’re one of us now, not going to just let you leave because some fuckin’ asshole is threatening you. We can keep ourselves safe and that includes you.” 

It was almost like you didn’t hear him at all, shaking your head and looking outside. 

“Shouldn’t have settled there,” you muttered to yourself. “Should have fucking left…” 

“Bambi,” Joel said, sharper than he meant to. Your head snapped around to look at him, your eyebrows drawn together. He wanted to touch you. He kept his hands on his lap. “No. You should have stayed. It’s safe there, the people and animals there need you, Ellie needs you, I need you.” 

He said it without thinking about it or really meaning to, but he meant the words. Even though he wasn’t sure you were ready to hear them, he meant them. You looked him over, up and down, like you were searching for something. 

“Joel…” Your voice trailed off. 

“I do,” he said. “You think I like spendin’ time with just anyone? That I’m Jackson’s resident social butterfly?”

You laughed a little at that. 

“I’m there because it’s safe and life’s a hell of a lot better than it was in the QZ,” he said. “It’s good for Ellie to be there, Tommy’s there. That’s what I had. When Ellie stopped talkin’ to me, there were some days… Seemed like I was living to pass her in the mess hall. Then I met you and… Seein’ you is the best part of my damn day, alright? Love that you come borrow the fuckin’ guitar all the time since it means I see you all the time. Didn’t ask Tommy to put us on patrol together but I was so damn happy when he did. Jackson needs you and Ellie needs you but I need you, too. Don’t act like you’re not worth us protectin’ because you are. So let us.” 

The two of you sat on opposite ends of the couch for a moment, watching each other. 

“Can I try something?” You asked softly. He nodded. You took a deep breath and then crawled across the couch until you were in front of him. “Just… Don’t touch me, OK?” 

“OK.” 

You sat back on your heels and leaned into him, until your lips were gently against his. You were soft, so damn soft, and he had to fight the urge to pull you closer, kiss you harder. Your mouth grew firmer, more insistent and you moaned into his mouth before you pulled back, your eyes wide as you panted for breath. 

“I….” Your fingers traced your lips for a moment. “I need you, too. I’m sorry I’m so…” 

“Don’t.” 

“I am,” you said. “I know you’re not like them, I know that you’re good and you’re kind and that you wouldn’t hurt me I just…” 

“It’s OK,” he said gently. “I understand.” 

You sat back further from him, still close enough that he could touch you if you wanted him to. 

“I wish you didn’t have to.” 

You got up and went to your pack, pulling out jerky and peaches and water. You came back to the couch and handed him a peach. He frowned. 

“I’ve seen what you pack for patrol food,” you said. “You’ll get scurvy.” 

He laughed a little and ate the peach. 

Things were easier after that, like you’d both decided that the the rest of the day hadn’t happened. You talked about music and movies and what shit was like before and it was light and easy, like he hadn’t tortured a man for answers a few hours earlier. Like you hadn’t kissed him on this very couch. 

The two of you settled in to sleep early, Joel insisting on giving you the couch as he took the floor. You’d only been silent for a few minutes when you whispered his name in the dark. 

“Hm?” 

“Can I come down there?” You were still whispering, like it was a secret. 

He paused.

“Course.” 

He heard you moving, the squeak of old springs in the sofa, the rustle of the fabric of your clothes. You slid against his side and draped part of yourself over him. He slowly, cautiously, arranged his arms around you and you nestled closer. You nuzzled into his neck and took a deep, contented breath, making his heart pound. After a few minutes, your hand slipped up his chest and to his face, your fingertips trailing through his beard and into his hair. 

“Bambi,” he breathed. 

“Can I…” You were still whispering. 

“You can do whatever you want with me,” he said softly. 

You pressed your body tighter to his and pulled his face in close to your own before you kissed him. It was deep and needy and Joel could taste the fruit on your tongue. He kept his hands where you’d let them go before, his fingers pressing tight into your skin. 

“I need you too,” you said, breathless, when you pulled away from him. 

He kissed your forehead and held you close. 

“Goodnight, Bambi.” 

“Goodnight, Joel.” 

*** 

You’d gotten wet again. 

It didn’t take you long to notice it when you woke up this time, the cool slick on your skin obvious as you were wrapped around Joel. 

“Bambi,” he said, his voice strained. 

“I…” it took you a moment to realize what was happening. You were facing Joel and he was facing you, your leg hitched up over his hip. Your heart was racing and you were wet enough that you were sure Joel’s pants were wet, too. You shocked back from him, sitting up as you did, panting for breath. “I don’t…” 

“Think you were dreaming,” he said, his voice gruff. 

“I’m so sorry,” your face got hot and you tried to calm your breathing as much as you could. “I don’t…” 

“It’s OK,” he said. “It’s…” 

“I’m going to go check on the horses,” you took off before he could say another word. 

You all but ran outside, going around to the building with the horses through the early morning fog. Renaissance gave you a tired whinny when you opened the door and you went over to give her a scratch as she pressed her large head against your torso. Your heartbeat started to return to normal and you scratched her neck. She huffed against you. 

“Don’t have to be so smug about it,” you muttered. She impatiently stomped a hoof. “Hey. I’m working on it.” You stepped back and looked down at her. “Let me get your bridle, get you outside for the day…” 

You put some of the tack back on her and led her out to a grassy area where she could graze. 

“Hey.” 

Joel’s voice made you jump as he caught up to you, stopping a few feet away. He put his hands on his hips. 

“Hey,” you said, sticking close to the horse. 

“Look, I understand that you weren’t exactly expecting that,” he said. “And…” 

“I know it wasn’t you,” you said quickly. “I know it was me…” 

Joel nodded slowly. 

“Please don’t run off like that on me,” he said after a moment. You frowned. “If you need space from me, that’s OK, but just… tell me. Please don’t just take off.” 

You looked at him for a second. It had been so long since you’d had someone else’s feelings to worry about, especially with anything remotely intimate, you hadn’t considered that it probably freaked him out. 

“Right,” you said. “Sorry.” 

The ride back to Jackson was almost as uneventful as it was agonizing. You could hardly look at Joel, not after… whatever you’d done this morning. Probably tried to dry hump him into oblivion only to freak out the second you were conscious. Because you couldn’t handle shit like a normal fucking person. 

The only thing that kept it interesting were some clickers that you picked off from about half a football field away. Joel spotted them first and raised his rifle but you stopped him. 

“Can I?” You asked. “Really wanna shoot something.” 

“Go ahead, Bambi,” he smiled a little.

You shot the pair of them in quick succession, a strange satisfaction taking hold as you watched them fall to earth, monsters you were fully capable of felling. There was comfort in that. 

When you got back to Jackson, you rushed to get Renaissance out of her tack and settled into her stall, ready to get home and put some distance between you and Joel. 

You couldn’t trust your body around him. You’d do things before your brain caught up, things that you couldn’t control, things that felt dangerous and made your heart pound in panic instead of desire. 

“Bambi,” Joel said quietly. You stopped your work, not able to help looking at him. “If you need some space… Just know that I’m still here for you. When you’re ready.” 

You could only nod before watching him go, his horse settled for the night. 

You tried to avoid Joel for two days. 

Tried. 

But your life had become so in sync with his, you ran into him everywhere. At the mess hall, on the street, when he came by the stable. He respectfully kept his distance, making eye contact with you, like he was seeing if you were going to talk to him again, and not pushing it when you broke away. 

And while he scared you - the intensity of your feelings for him, the way he knew you now, how your body reacted to his - you also missed him. His kind smile and gentle teasing and soft touch. You couldn’t get him out of your head, the way he looked, the way he felt, the way he tasted. 

That’s where your mind got stuck as you lay in bed, alone, two nights after you got back from patrol. Every time you closed your eyes you saw him there, the way he looked just before you kissed him. There was an ache between your thighs, one that was nearing pain, that was well past wanting and had pushed into need. 

You needed Joel. You hadn’t needed anyone like this in so long - years - but you needed Joel. You needed his hands on you, needed his lips on your own, needed to feel him deep inside.

“I’m still here for you,” he’d said. “When you’re ready.” 

You slid a hand down your body to the apex of your thighs and traced your clit, your sex warm and wet below your fingers. You took a deep, shaky breath and thought of Joel as you circled your sensitive nub, increasing the pressure, working yourself harder and faster. Your orgasm built, the ache in your body becoming more acute, the tightness growing. 

But you couldn’t finish. There was some kind of roadblock keeping you from it, something stopping you from finding relief. And all you could picture was Joel. After a while, you gave up with a whimper and tried to sleep, but you couldn’t do that, either. You were too keyed up, too turned on, too needy. 

“I”m still here for you. When you’re ready.” 

“Fuck it,” you said, buttoning the shirt of Joel’s you were wearing to bed up and changing into a pair of shorts that weren’t wet with your own slick. 

Jackson was quiet as you walked to Joel’s, everyone asleep for the night. You had no idea what time it was, just that it was late enough that you were an asshole for showing up at anyone’s house at this hour. 

You all but ran up his front steps and opened his screen door to knock on the main one with a little too much force. You let the screen door fall closed and you paced, waiting for what felt like an eternity when a light inside switched on. You stopped pacing, almost centered on the front door as Joel opened it, a sleepy expression on his face. 

He was wearing a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, his arms looking almost frustratingly sculpted, the fit of the shirt outlining his chest and stomach. The ache in you got worse. 

“Bambi?” He asked, opening the screen door, too. “Everything OK? What are you doing…” 

You couldn’t help it. You threw your arms around his neck and kissed him, pressing your whole body into his. You could feel every line of him you were so close to him and, for the first time, the ache eased. Joel was what you wanted, needed. It was like everything was going to be OK now that you had him with you. His hands went to your waist, holding you to him. He moaned into your mouth, his grip on you firm and strong. 

You pulled back from him just enough to see his face, your eyes searching his. He looked a lot more awake now. You were breathless.

“Can I come inside?” 

He panted and nodded before stepping aside and letting you into his home.  

Next Chapter

A/N: Hiiiiiiii y'all :D

I think we all know what's coming (heh... coming) next chapter, right?

I hope you enjoyed this insight into Bambi's history, too. I don't intend on ever being too insanely graphic with it (though we will see more flashbacks with Mitchum) because I think we all understand what happened to her without going into detail. The violence itself was never the point, just how she heals and reintegrates into society and develops relationships after surviving it.

If you'd like to be alerted when I post, please follow my updates blog here and subscribe :)

Thank you so much for sticking with this story! I know it's been an incredibly slow burn but I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed sharing it. Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

[ataliagold]

and the moonlight baby shows you what's real

Title from Love Like Ghosts by Lord Huron. This is based off my own experiences with sleep paralysis, so yet again I'm projecting onto Steve :)

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: T

W/C: 1099

C/W: Sleep paralysis

Tags: post-vecna, established steddie, steve has sleep paralysis, eddie looks after him, steve needs a hug - he gets one

Summary: In the aftermath of Vecna, Steve's left with a variety of issues, including frequent episodes of sleep paralysis. Luckily, he doesn't have to suffer through them alone.

___

Steve’s eyes snap open. They lock on the figure at the end of his bed looming over it, shadowy and shapeless and huge.

His heart slams in his chest. Trying to suck in a lungful of air he finds he can’t, can barely force his chest to expand, his breath coming in tiny, rapid pants instead. There’s ringing in his ears, strange whispers competing for his attention around the room, and the figure is leaning over the mattress now, getting closer and he’s completely fucking stuck.

Frozen in place, Steve’s eyes dart left to where Eddie should be. He can make him out in the light of the moon pouring through the window, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the state Steve is trapped in.

Eddie knows about this. About the sleep paralysis. It had been plaguing Steve for a while now, but he’d been too embarrassed to say anything until Eddie had witnessed it firsthand one night and been convinced Vecna was somehow back, that he was coming for Steve just as he’d come for Chrissy…and Steve had been forced to explain. That this wasn’t anything supernatural, this was just…another of his many issues.

It was added to the list alongside his head trauma, his insomnia, his deteriorated hearing.

Steve had learnt to recognize it now, to realize when it was happening to him instead of thinking it was some strange nightmare every time, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still terrifying as hell in the moment.

And Eddie had helped him through several episodes of this by now, but he can’t help if Steve’s unable to wake him up and he can’t move…

His heart rate climbs rapidly. The shadow figure still looms, growing taller and taller and soon it’ll be touching him.

Suddenly, Steve feels himself being tugged towards the foot of the bed.

Logically, he knows he’s not moving - knows he’s still lying flat on his bed beside Eddie but it fucking feels like he’s being dragged toward that thing and fuck he needs Eddie to wake up…

He tries to make a sound. Tries to say Eddie’s name, tries to yell, anything.

A small whimper manages to claw its way from his throat.

It’s enough.

The mattress dips as Eddie rolls over, as he sits up and blinks down at Steve.

And Steve’s stuck in some dark place between asleep and awake, but he’s sure Eddie’s real, would know his boyfriend even if he were blind and deaf.

Realization crosses Eddie’s face, and he flicks on the bedside lamp.

“Stevie, sweetheart, you’re ok,” Eddie murmurs, shuffling closer to him but not touching yet. “This is sleep paralysis, whatever you’re seeing isn’t real. There’s nothing here but you and me, ok?”

But the shadow’s still there.

Steve’s told Eddie about the dark figure that haunts these episodes before, so Eddie knows what Steve’s scared of, but he still wants to tell him, tries to, only succeeding in making a small gurgling noise in the back of his throat.

“I’m here, Stevie. It’s…three twenty-three am. You’re in our bedroom, and this will pass in a few minutes, ok? Can you try move a finger?”

This was a tactic Dustin had suggested, once word of Steve’s…nighttime issues had spread. The kid had taken all sorts of books about sleep disorders out from the library, had researched until he’d found something actually useful. If Steve could force even a finger to move, then he’d eventually manage to move his hand, his arm, and at that point he could rip himself out of paralysis.

Steve focuses all his energy on the pinky of his left hand. His eyes shoot to the end of the bed again, where the shadow figure is bending down, where it’s about to fucking crawl onto the mattress…

“Hey, no, focus on me sweetheart,” Eddie slowly reaches for his hand, doesn’t squeeze it or move it, just lays it over Steve’s. Moonlight glows across his pale skin, and even in distress Steve thinks he’s fucking beautiful. “I promise it’s not real. Try and move your hand, yeah?”

Steve tries again. Manages a tiny twitch in his pinky.

Eddie grins. “There you go, try again.”

He does, curling the pinky towards his palm and back again.

“Now try and squeeze my hand,” Eddie encourages.

With his heart still pounding, Steve forces his frozen fingers to cooperate, clenching down on Eddie’s hand clumsily.

The shadow figure retreats across the bedroom, out the door. The ringing in his ears fades, and Steve manages to swallow, to take a gasping breath.

“You’re ok, I’ve got you, I’m here,” Eddie soothes him, reaching for him as Steve starts to move, as he curls inwards towards him, still trembling.

“Sorry,” Steve whines into his chest, as Eddie cradles him close.

“Shhhh, just breathe,” Eddie whispers, running a hand slowly up and down Steve’s back.

And Steve’s shaking even as his heart rate starts to slow, as he slumps into Eddie’s hold, as the adrenaline floods out of his system and leaves him strung-out and exhausted.

“Sorry I woke you,” Steve repeats, his voice hitching and stuttering, “I couldn’t…I didn’t know what to -”

“Hey,” Eddie interrupts, kissing the top of his head, “I’ve told you before, I want you to wake me up. Every time. I don’t want you going through that alone, ok?”

Steve nods slightly, hair brushing across Eddie’s collarbone with the movement.

“Did you see it again? The…shadow guy?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods again. “He was about to climb onto the bed.”

Eddie snorts, pulls Steve somehow closer to him. “Bit rude of him, fucker should probably ask before joining us in bed.”

Steve manages a tiny chuckle despite himself, rests his hand at Eddie’s waist, feels himself slowly settling against the comforting warmth of his boyfriend.

“Want me to read a bit while you go back to sleep?”

Steve nods, avoiding Eddie’s eye, still shy, still a stranger to accepting the help Eddie so readily offers him.

But Eddie only kisses him briefly, reaches for his book on the bedside table, and scans the page for where he’d left off.

Steve has no idea what the book is even about, but it doesn’t matter. It’s Eddie’s voice, calm and soothing and familiar washing over him that helps his breathing slow, that relaxes him back into a state where he can even consider going back to sleep again.

He lets his eyes droop. Feels the vibration of Eddie’s chest against his cheek, sinks further into the blankets, and allows sleep to take him again.

Eddie’s got him, after all.

___

[wearyeyebrow]

Worthy In Blue

Summary: You’ve been working on a little surprise project for Lucifer involving navy blue rope and a mahogany chair. You know Lucifer has a penchant for ropework, so what if you gave him an evening to put those skills, and your own, to good use?

Tags under the cut.

Tags: submissive lucifer, dominant MC, rope, restraints, MC is in rope, Lucifer is restrained, pegging, cunnilingus, gn MC, afab MC, mutual possessiveness, romance, established relationship, pre-nightbringer

-

Tonight is the long awaited Grimte Banquet where all the noble houses gather. Relationships are maintained, new ones started, and it’s all Lucifer can do to keep his brothers in line. Luckily, he has you to keep Mammon by your side and Beel full of food.

The night drones on spent managing many noble advances. He spares you a weary glance and you wink at him from across the hall. He can’t help the quirk of his mouth, a slight smile amidst everything. You’re impossibly charming.

A few moments later and he hears your voice in his ear. “Meet me in the coat room, I have something to show you.”

You slip away and disappear somewhere in the crowd. Eventually he manages a moment alone, horribly curious as he finds his way to you.

You close the door behind him, nearly hidden amidst coats of all sizes. “Hi gorgeous,” you wrap your arms around his waist.

"A coat closet?" He muses.

“I won’t keep you. Pretty sure Beel is looking for me too… Here.” You hold up your phone, “What do you think?”

You’re showing him a picture of… rope? “This is what you wanted to show me?”

“I could hardly send it to your phone right now, what with the entire royal court surrounding you. Plus, I’d rather explain its implications in person.”

“Implications?”

“Mm. Are you free next Friday night? Around 10pm?”

“I…” he allows himself a small smile, “I might be able to spare you some time.”

“Oh might you?” You smirk, “Well, if you’re too busy I completely understand. I’m capable of appreciating my own hard work.”

He acts affronted, grabbing you by the waist and kissing your hand. “Would a willing participant not please you more?”

“Isn’t that why I asked you in the first place?” He’s captivated by the crinkle of your nose, by the warmth of your smile.

“You’ve caught me,” he chuckles, “I’m all yours.”

“Then it’s a date. Do you like the color?”

You show him your phone again and he hums appreciatively. "Did you get it from Cloven Boutique? I didn’t think they stocked colored rope."

“They don’t, I dyed it myself."

“Truly?” He looks closer, in want of his glasses. “It looks like a professional job."

"Well, I had to get the color just right - I love the look of you in blue."

"Oh?" His tone softens.

“Mhm…” You appreciatively sweep your eyes up his body, lingering the gold peacock tie-clip you got him last month. You reach out and adjust his collar, “I love seeing you in things I’ve bought.”

“You have good taste.”

“Do you really think so?”

He frowns. “I wouldn’t wear something if it didn’t suit me.”

You laugh, “I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I’m charming.”

He fondly rolls his eyes. “I suppose both descriptors are accurate. I will look forward to it all week.”

“I think it’ll be worth the wait.” You lean up and brush your lips against his, “Don’t dance with too many nobles now.”

“Haven’t you noticed? All eyes are on you tonight. It’s taken everything in me not to whisk you away.”

“Likewise, darling.” You wink at him again and his heart certainly doesn’t flutter.

-

Lucifer knocks on your closed door, waiting for you to beckon him inside.

The first thing he notices is an old mahogany chair in the middle of your room, stolen from the hallway. It sits odd against your comfortable furniture.

You make a show of locking your door, brushing against his shoulder as you pass by. Then you cast a noise canceling spell - nothing but an emergency could disturb you now.

When you meet his eyes you're delighted by his wanting expression, unguarded and open in his desire. "I wonder…" you walk over to him, "how much you've thought about this night, curious about what I've planned?" You straighten his tie, close enough to see him swallow.

"It has been on my mind." He takes your hand in his own and kisses your knuckles, looking every part adoring.

You chuckle fondly, "Especially in the evenings, when you think of me?"

His cheeks heat up but his gaze is steady. “I won’t deny it."

“Honesty suits you." He goes in for a kiss just as you pull away. "I want to show you something."

He makes a curious sound and you leave him to open your dresser drawer. "Now, you knew I'd be using rope tonight, but for what exactly I didn't tell you." You gather the rope in your arms, "It might not seem like much of a deviation."

"Oh?" He eyes the rope you've picked.

"You still like it?"

He turns the rope over in his hands, "It’s richer than I remember. How did you do it?"

"Blue mangled beetles - kind of like carmine, but the process is simpler. When dried and crushed they make a beautiful dark navy dye that doesn’t bleed."

"You did your research."

You chuckle and take the rope from his hands. "Only the best for you. Gloves off."

He slips off his right leather glove, finger by finger - wait. “Blue?” You look at him inquisitively. His nails are a rich navy blue, perfectly manicured and glossy.

His eyes flicker behind you, cheeks dusting pink. “I painted them a few days ago.”

You're confused for a minute, then it hits you. “Wait - because of me?”

His voice drops, “You - you mentioned-" He clears his throat, "I thought you might like them.”

"I love them, Lucifer…" You kiss his knuckles, his palm, his wrist, before pulling him in for a proper kiss. His hand cups your jaw and he makes a small, plaintive sound. He really had been thinking about your words all this time.

You pull away with reluctance. "It's time I tell you what we’ll be doing tonight. Shall we start the scene?"

He clears his throat again and sweeps his own magic over your door. "Let us begin."

"Any titles are allowed tonight, you can address me however you’d like. Red to stop the act, yellow to pause, and green for all good. Fire if you want to stop the scene entirely."

"Understood.”

“Then…" the glint in your eyes makes him a little weak in the knees. "I know you have a penchant for ropework. And I know how much you enjoy earning my praise. So, I had a thought - tonight I’d like you to use your ropework skills and tie me up, but I want full range of motion, you know, a design strictly for aesthetics.” You pull the rope taught in your hands, “And then, if you do a good enough job, I may reward you with some rope of my own. What do you say?” You hold out the rope to him.

You smile and oblige, settling into the cold wooden seat. He eyes you and then the rope, contemplative, before loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves. He circles you, and you admire the focused, pointed look on his face as he carefully plans an intricate design in his mind’s eye. He’s completely in his element and you love to watch him work.

“What an intriguing idea...” He takes the rope from your hands with soft reverence, feeling the rough texture between his fingers. “You really got such a nice shine to it,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. He breathes out slowly and gestures to the mahogany chair, “Please dear, relax.”

“Ah,’ you suddenly realize, “This might help.” You lift up your shirt and drop it next to the chair before shimmying out of your bottoms, leaving you bare before him.

“Yes…” he murmurs as his eyes roam your skin.

You feel a pleasant tingle up your spine when he brushes his fingers through your hair, gently gathering until he can put it up properly above your neckline. Your body relaxes under his touch.

The first knot is an anchor tie just below your bust, he uses four strands and divides them into two, slipping each half over your shoulders and back down to meet your back. The rough texture warms you from the outside in but his careful touch is cool against your skin.

You watch him as he works, loving the interplay of shadow that falls across his sharp features. He catches you staring.

“Am I pleasing to look at, Madam?”

“Yes, very much so.”

Your pact mark sings and you chuckle, bemused at the sensation. “You like it when I compliment you, don’t you, my little black bird?”

His cheeks heat up and his eyebrows furrow, as he’s put off by the pet name, but the humming in your chest only continues. “I can feel it, you know? Honesty really does suit you best - your face is much prettier wearing it.”

The tips of his ears turn pink but he circles you, wrapping his arms around your midsection to finish fixing a knot in place. Suddenly his warm lips press into the crook of your shoulder. The deep undertones of his voice make you shiver as he whispers in your ear. “You will be the death of me.”

You turn to meet his eyes, coy mischief in your own. “I think you’ll survive.” He chuckles and you kiss him once, twice, just to make him simmer. He almost goes back in for a third but you brush your thumb over his bottom lip. “Not yet.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He kisses your shoulder once more.

Time passes in a lovely, hazy sort of way. Lucifer relaxes into the process as you'd hoped he would. It’s a gentle sort of focus where his mind is set on something, a place where nothing else can bother him or tear away his careful attention. He loves taking your direction, easing him out of his mind, constantly wound too tight.

Finally he kneels to finish the job, gingerly maneuvering one of your legs up and over his shoulder to wrap a strand around the back of your thigh. His eyes wander this time, following the line of your body until he lingers between your legs. As if he can’t help himself he kisses your skin, leaving a delicate trail up the inside of your thigh.

You cup his jaw in one hand and he kisses your palm, eyeing between your legs. “After you finish,” you murmur, “You’ll have to earn what you get tonight.” His eyes flicker to yours and he continues moving, finishing the tie he started.

“I believe I’m finished, will you stand?”

You do so, feeling the bend and flex of rope. Nothing feels too tight, everything is snug, hugging the curves of your body. You admire what lacing you can see, particularly the delicate design around your hands and wrists. He truly had taken his time, a glance at the clock proves that an hour has passed.

Finally you turn around and examine his work in the mirror. Your eyes light up at his intricate ropework. You’re beautiful, elegant, fully mobile and yet covered in faux restraints. You admire yourself, making a show of your appreciation. His chest puffs out and the pact mark on your chest rumbles. You gently circle your clit with one finger and enjoy how he shifts uncomfortably behind you.

You want more from him. Your body aches from an hour of foreplay.

You cup his jaw with one hand. “Kneel.”

“Yes Sir,” he murmurs, almost breathless.

His willing, almost eager demonstration of your power over him, of his own lack of control, further spurns you on, and you know he can hold your weight.

"Show me, then, devotion to your work." You prop one leg up on the hard mahogany seat, exposing yourself for him. Rope hugs your thighs, indenting and highlighting what he wants most.

His eyes flicker between your face and your clit. He licks his lips. "Thank you, Sir."

You run a hand through his hair and brace the other on the back of the chair. As soon as his tongue touches your clit you gasp, unable to help yourself. You’ve been on edge for so long now, throbbing at every new rope and delicate detail. You savor his mouth, rocking your hips into his face gently. "Yes…" he sucks and licks as you drip onto his tongue and he moans softly at the gentle tug of your hand in his hair.

You'll come quickly and you know it - you rock against him faster now and he wraps his fingers through the ropes on the back of your thigh before squeezing your ass and petting between your legs.

You look down at him, at his disheveled appearance, tousled hair, and too-tight pants. “Lucifer, darling, you - ah - you don’t have to say anything, no thoughts, no control, just take what I give you."

He groans and claws at the backs of your thighs, pulling you forward against his mouth.

You tilt your head back. "Good man, good job-" he whines and flicks his tongue with renewed vigor, "fffuck, right there…"

You fuck his face, shivering and shaking, chasing your orgasm. He holds you upright and supports your body, grasping at his own ropework. You moan and twitch. A glance at the mirror brings you closer still, “Look baby, look at you, making me feel so fucking good… shit-” Your grip on his hair tightens as you twist your hand, pulling him forward. He moans, high and breathy, harshly breathing through his nose.

His right hand supports your waist while his left squeezes your ass. Just a minute more, a second more, finally, finally his palpable desire sends you over the edge, and god how it fills the air. He takes it all and you don't fall, even as your legs lock and your grip falters. You shake and shiver in his tight grasp, palms holding tight to his shoulders. He keeps licking, just enough to keep you there until tension dissipates and you’re overstimulated. Only then does his grip loosen, following your body as you stand on your own, knees shaking.

There's an unspoken tenderness in his eyes - your baby takes pride in service.

You step away from him when you can, fixing his hair and cleaning your cum from his lips. "Sit on the chair, darling."

His knees crack when he gets up, stiff from his place on the hardwood floor. He sits, bulge straining against his trousers, watching you with rapt attention.

"I think…" you turn around, "You've more than earned your reward - as if there was any doubt in my mind."

“Oh?” He practically glows at your praise.

"And…” you walk over to your nightstand once more, "I'm not done with this yet." He swallows, gaze fixated on the rope in your hands. You smirk, "You like that idea?"

He shifts again. "Yes I - very much."

You reach into your nightstand and pull out a matte black silicone dildo, smaller, elegant even. You hold it up. “What about this? Are you up for it tonight?”

“Yes,” he nods, “I prepared myself for the possibility.”

“Perfect,“ you breathe, already excited. “Then…” your smile is nearly wicked as you regard him and his cock throbs in earnest. “Clothes off. Hands behind your back - hold your forearms.”

He acquiesces, knowing exactly what you want.

Soon he’s sitting naked on the chair, hands held behind his back, willingly at your mercy. Your ties aren’t nearly as elegant, but they restrict his movement and hug his body. You restrain his arms behind his back with a chest harness, carefully distributing the weight of the rope, adding just a touch of flourish. Even in such a simple design he looks lovely. Blue really is his color, you think, admiring him. He catches your eye.

“I was right,” you say, tilting his chin up for a chaste peck on the lips, “You look lovely in blue.” He groans and chases your lips this time. You let him, just once, and deepen the kiss yourself, before grabbing him by the hair, wrenching his head up. “Not yet, darling.”

“As you wish.” He’s breathless and kiss bitten.

You leave him and stack two large pillows on top of each other. You motion for him to stand before grabbing him by the restraints. “I will help you get into position,” you chuckle darkly, “I want you face down.”

His cheeks feel hot but he nods, “Yes Sir.”

“Good man. Lie down.”

It takes a moment since he can’t move his arms but you finally have him exactly where you want him, chest pushed into the bed, hips and ass raised by the pillows beneath him.

He tilts his head to look at you with one eye, eyebrow raised as you appear with more rope.

‘Can’t have you squirming too much, now can I?” He groans into the pillow beneath him and nods.

“Tell me if you’re ever uncomfortable or need to readjust, this position might get tiring after awhile.”

“I’m sure I can take it.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m not asking. Tell me.”

He shivers. “Yes Ma’am.”

“Good.”

You uncap the lube on your nightstand and snap a glove on. He shivers at the cold feeling of your lubed finger rubbing against him, but as your hand warms so does his body and he slowly starts to meet your gentle thrusts as you enter him. You love this part. It’s incredibly intimate, almost more so that the ensuing sex, because anyone else would have been thrown out long ago - he has only ever done this with you.

Once you’re up to two fingers comfortably you withdraw your hand and replace it with your lubed up strap. “Ready?”

“I’ve been ready.” You smack his ass and he gasps.

“What was that?”

“I apologize, yes I - I’m ready.”

“That’s better. One more remark like that,” you murmur, pressing in slowly, “And I’ll rethink your reward.”

He hisses, wiggling his hips, “A-Apologies - it won’t happen again.”

‘I know it won’t,” you smile, “because you love this too much.” Finally, finally you move your hips, slow at first, until finding a gentle rhythm. You use his bound legs as leverage, pushing deep inside of him as his low, desperate moans fill the air.

As his body strains against the rope it holds tight, digging into his skin - this heat, this pleasure, your power over him is dizzying. For a few blissful moments he can’t think, all he can do is feel you surround him and hear your haunting voice in his ear.

It is easy to admire him, Lucifer Morningstar splayed out before you, rocking his ass into your hips, wanting more, more. You grab the rope holding his forearms tight against his back and pull, arching his back against the sheets. He cries out, and you lean down, pushing all your weight on top of him.

“That feel good, baby? Heh, you love it don’t you?” Your hips are slow and deep, grinding on his favorite spot, “You love being fucked like this. Wrapped in my rope, under my hand-” He moans, long and debauched. “I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this, you belong to me, don’t you?”

“Yes-!”

You’re breathless above him. “We belong to each other, right, love?”

His eyes open and he gazes at you in the adjacent mirror, “Yes…” You dip and kiss the back of his neck, soft and sweet, "Hnn…" he takes in a shuddering breath and lets his head fall forward.

“That's right, no one else deserves to touch you, no one else is good enough, worthy enough.” You whisper in his ear.

He gasps your name and pushes his ass against your hips, pathetically fucking himself on your strap. Every slap of your skin sears welts into his body. You grab his hair and jerk his body up.

“Eyes open, look at yourself.” He didn’t think he could get any redder, but the sight of you behind him, fucking his ass with slow purposeful thrusts, restraining him while tied in his own ropework, it's too much, he can’t - he’ll -

You wrench his head up, “Keep looking,” you pant, “look at the face you make when you come for me.”

He can’t help it, he comes fast and hot, hips stuttering, mouth open and gasping. You slow but you don’t stop. He whimpers but dutifully stays, taking it all.

“Good man,” you praise him, “So. Fucking. Good-” you punctuate your words by digging your nails into his back. You slowly drag them downward and tiny specks of blood bubble to the surface. He hisses but his cock jumps beneath him. “You like a little pain, don’t you?” You slap his ass with an open palm. “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes Ma’am -”

“Yes what?”

"Fuck - more, please-!”

“Filthy.” You bite, before indulging him with another slap on the ass.

You run your nails gently over the welts and he sighs in bliss. In this moment of calm you use all your strength to hoist him upward again, until his back is flush against your chest. You wrap a hand around his throat and start to bounce him on your cock. His eyes roll back and he groans, reaching around to grab your hip as he rocks back into you.

“When I cut you loose,” you pant, “I want you to lie down on your back, legs spread, waiting and ready for me again. Do you understand me?”

He swallows breathlessly and nods.

You lean him forward and gently pull out. You untie his legs, and then his arms before dropping the rope next to the bed. His body is tinged red with slight rope burn, just how he likes.

He rolls over onto his back, finally making eye contact with you. You smile at him, gentle, and his pupils pin. “Spread your legs for me.”

Lucifer grabs his own knees, and spreads his legs while you refuse to let him lose eye contact. His red flush is delicious, and so is his twitching cock, clearly enjoying this.

You grab more lube from the nightstand and quickly reapply before holding one of his legs to your chest and slipping back inside. He groans and rocks his hips forward, savoring the feeling.

You slowly snap your hips forward, reaching deep inside him, you keep repositioning until he gasps and then you hold there. Little thrusts of your hips grinding against his ass. He gasps low, moaning sweetly in his deep voice as sweat trickles down his temple.

“Kiss me-” he croaks, reaching for you. You melt into him and grind against him as his hands roam your body. He doesn’t realize he’s whimpering and shuddering, or if he does he doesn’t care.

You continue like this for a while, enjoying his gasping deep moans in your ear, his lips and teeth on your neck. Finally, at your mercy, you gently trace your fingers over the head of his cock. The noise he makes is agonizing, and you have half a mind to continue neglecting him. But he has your heart as you keep up that gentle, light contact, and he doesn’t ask for more. His head is spinning, filled with thoughts of you, you, just you.

You speed up your hand as your hips get tired and he grips your back, rocking into you. Finally you feel him tense, feel his blunt nails dig into your back.

“There you go, my pretty bird,”

He gasps, light and beautiful, shuddering as he comes, keening as each slow, deep thrust of your hips milks another dribble of cum out of him.

You kiss again and again, covered in sweat, cum, and specks of blood, ignoring the passage of time.

-

Darkness blankets your bedroom, barely lit in deep navy shadow. Your fingernails fall up and down rhythmically over the rope burn on Lucifer’s back.

“I heard you were approached last week.” He murmurs.

“At the Banquet…? Oh, did Asmo say something?”

Lucifer chuckles, "He said something akin to "Everyone here is itching for their chance, don't let them out of your sight."

You feign exasperation. "And what did you do, you let me out of your sight. Now I'm in bed with a demon."

Lucifer snorts, "The very same demon you propositioned in a coat closet."

"What can I say? I know who I want," you kiss his temple.

Lucifer leans into you further, draped across your body. "Don't you have plans early tomorrow morning?"

“You yawn again, “Solomon said he has something important to talk to me about. What exactly, I’m not sure… he can wait until I've had breakfast.”

“That sorcerer…”

“He wants you so bad,” you chuckle, “I mean, it isn’t up to me, but I enjoy acting as if it is.”

“Rest assured,” he kisses your shoulder, “he’ll never have me, not like you do.”

Your smile is gentle. “I love you, Luci.”

“And I you.”

Lucifer closes his eyes and relaxes his sore body, satisfied and calm. He resolves to make you breakfast in the morning before seeing you off to Solomon.

Truly, he thinks, there's nothing he can’t face as long as you’re there when he wakes.