#It's okay to draw him with gray eyes. I just like seeing him with red ones *blinks cutely*

[brainfilehasstoppedworking]

When people draw Takaaki with red eyes instead of gray <3333

[lacroixqueen]

i look in people's windows (18+, noncon) stalker deadpool x office worker reader

Summary: deadpool starts stalking reader after seeing her in a coffee shop. breaks into her apartment and does typical depraved wade shit

Pairing: stalker!deadpool x office worker reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: stalking, trespassing, noncon, dubcon

He didn’t realize he was so fascinated with you initially. At first glance, you looked like any other plain Jane office worker in the city: rushing to the front of the cafe to grab a tray of half-cold coffees before bolting out the door. 

Why is she in such a hurry, he mused to himself, watching you scurry down the block, the corner of your white blouse poking out of your gray pencil skirt. Acting like she’s saving the world or about to perform brain surgery or something. Another Marvel Jesus wannabe. What makes her think she’s so important anyway?

He went back to sipping his bitter espresso, returning to his original state of solitude, until he couldn’t shake you out of his head. Fuck it. Something urged him to get out of his seat, leave the coffee store, and follow you out.

He trailed behind you by about a block or so. He took note of your black tights, and how your skirt ended at the mid-level of your thighs. And that stupid click-clack sound of your heels against the cobblestone. So self-righteous.

He eventually followed you into a skyscraper building. He watched you weave through the crowd, past the front desk, and into a back elevator. Wade quickened his pace to be able to catch you just in the nick of time. 

He darted into the elevator right before the doors were about to close. 

“Floor?” you asked politely, looking up at him with those god awful innocent eyes that made him want to bend you over the nearest desk and fuck you senseless. 

“I’m so glad you asked!” he piped, ever so chipper. “I’ll be.. Uh. Floor. 85.”

“Oh, this building only has 60 floors!” you said. “Which department are you going to? Oooh, love the costume by the way. Maybe you’re headed to the photo studio? That’s going to be on 54. You take a left, then a right, and.. it should be straight there!”

And so polite too. God, could she be anymore insufferable, Deadpool thought to himself, tilting his head to the side as if to psychoanalyze your disposition. 

“Does.. that sound right?” you asked, a bit nervous now that the stranger dressed in all black and red sharing the enclosed space with you was no longer speaking. 

“Yes,” he replied, a little bit too quickly for comfort.

You pushed the corresponding button without another word, and then retreated back to your corner of the elevator. A few seconds of silence passed when your phone suddenly started beeping out of control. 

“Hello?” you asked nervously. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I’m coming right away. Yes? Uh huh. Mhm. Okay. Got it. Thank you. Bye.” You ended the call with a subtle click and slipped the phone back into your pocket. 

So she’s eager to please. A perfectionist. Interesting, he thought, jotting down a mental note. 

The elevator reached an upcoming floor with a crisp ‘ding’, followed by the doors gliding open.

“Have a great day!” you called over your shoulder as you stepped out, about to walk expeditiously to your cubicle, balancing the tray of coffees in your shaky grip. “Oh, and you should take one of these, they are still hot!”

You handed him one of the skinny vanilla lattes in the tray before the elevator doors closed between you. 

Wade took it without a thought. And he didn’t hesitate to follow you, of course. Ducking behind office plants and hallway walls just to see where you were going without drawing too much attention. He was quick enough to catch a glimpse of your full name on your cubicle placard. 

Bullseye, he thought mischievously to himself, before slinking away into the nearest stairwell. 

He somehow directed himself to the records department in the basement, carefully rifling through the employee directory to match your name with any corresponding information. 

“Y/N..” he muttered to himself, leafing through the enormous book in the back of the storage room. “Goddamnit. Where the hell are you.. Aha! Full government name, phone number, and mailing address. Who even needs those shady paywalled identity finder websites anyways.”

Later that evening, he made it a point to break into your apartment before you came home. He was methodical, ensuring to cover all his steps, so that no trace was left behind. The lock to your doorknob was easy enough to pick. It look several bent-out-of-shape paper clips of course, and a lot of perseverance, but he somehow cracked the code. 

He liked the way you decorated your space. Those cute little succulents in clay pots with smiley faces on them. Colorful candles and warm-toned tarps. Trinkets and crystals adorning cherry wooden shelves. Overgrown plants strewn across the floor. And books. Heaps of them. 

“Well I’ll be,” he huffed to himself, standing in the center of the living room, hands on his hips. “I never took you to be an interior designer. Chip and Joanna would have a run for their money if they ever got a load of this..”

He played with the string of beads you hung from the ceiling, until the wooden dresser you had pushed into the corner caught his attention. 

“Ohohohoho, now what do we have here..” he chuckled, prancing around your furniture to open up the first drawer. He was immediately greeted by your collection of underwear, folded neatly and sorted in a way he pictured an office worker would. He flickered his fingertips over the tops of them, as if he was a kid in a candy store picking out his favorite treat. 

“So organized and efficient!” he commented, rifling through the perfectly placed rows and columns with curiosity. “It’s like the love child of OCD and a very high grade personality disorder.. color me impressed.”

“Eenie, meenie, minie, you!” he exclaimed with glee, eyeing a pair of stretchy, black tights and lifting it out as if he was plucking a rose from a vine.  

Just like the ones she wore this morning, he mused.

His fingers glided across the fabric, gently rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. He stretched it out as much as he could, pulling it, teasing it, pretending as if it was on you. 

He decided to get comfortable on your couch, playing with your tights in between his gloved fingertips. 

“Well, out of all the things I’ve done to be put on a government watchlist, this one definitely takes the cake,” he murmured to himself as he lazily lifted up his mask, licking the stretched out nylon with his greedy tongue. He sucked on it desperately, as if he could somehow taste you on the fabric, his saliva dripping down the side of his chin. 

His fingers twirled around the black bows on the sides, pulling so hard one of them came undone. Without wasting another moment, he unbuckled his belt and slightly zipped down his fly, releasing his already hardened cock. Slipping the dainty cloth over it, he began to indulge himself in a way that he never predicted he would this morning. 

He tilted his head back into the soft cushion of the sofa, stroking himself with your elastic tights between his fingertips, imagining you were bouncing on top of him with them on. 

“Fuck, Y/N..” he breathed, gritting his teeth as he continued to pleasure himself. “Why did you have to wear something so slutty at 7 in the morning? I mean what kind of a sociopath does such a thing? You’d think people would have common courtesy these days, but I guess not.”

He groaned softly as he came into your tights, his cum infiltrating through the thin fabric, leaving them absolutely soaked. Breathing heavily, he got up to toss the tainted pantyhose into the trash. 

Finding a scrap piece of paper and pen, he decided to leave you a little note of gratitude on your kitchen table before he left your apartment, scribbling a messy sketch of his mask making a blushing face and a lop-sided heart: 

“Thanks for the coffee!”

[n0tamused]

A/N: This is based off of this post I saw on tiktok theorizing that BootHill must've died a brutal death for only his head to remain.

Content: angst, scramble drabble, she/her, female reader, BootHill needs comfort and he gets it, BootHill written prior to his release

“-Hey, hey, BootHill, breathe, my love-” Warm and cautious hands cup the cheeks of her loved one who sat shaking on the very corner of her bed. Hair messy and some fallen in small clumps from the struggle with his artificial body. “Shh, you’re with me.. there’s no one around, just me” she tries to soothe him again, worry rising like a bubble in her throat at her partner’s distress.

BootHill’s eyes flickered between red and gray, jumping around the room but once they were on her, they looked at something past her, through her. Even with half of his human body gone he wasn’t spared of the terrible memories and dreams. Every once in a while they’d come back to haunt him and drag him through all the suffering once again. Like once wasn’t enough. And in his scared stupor he didn’t rise from the bed before tugging his own hair and trashing the bed, even managing to hit her in the pure state of his delirium in attempts to pull off the ropes he felt in his nightmare.

Ragged breaths fan across her hands and she has to call out to him a few more times until she finally gets a response that he’s finally lucid. “Huh-? Huh..what?” He stumbles, hoping to summon strength to feel again, with his hands, Metal wraps itself around her wrist, squeezing then lessening its grip before squeezing again. “It’s okay.. it was just a dream.. See? Just breathe, come on.. do it with me”

Worry is etched deep between her brows and her frown in the dim light of the bedroom, but she manages to calm him down. But with each twitch of his body she regrets the lack of things she could do. She would’ve intertwined their fingers together, would’ve hugged him until he realized he was being held - but what use of it was it when he physically couldn’t feel touch? It was like explaining colors to a blind man. She might as well cry with BootHill.

But she has to stay strong, and patient above all else. She needs to be his rock at this moment. “Come.. let’s rest some more. We can just lay down for now” she leads him to lay down after her, moving his head despite his confused and pained grunt, setting his ear to her chest. Her hands go to his hair and she holds him there, just like that. And she feels his weight fall onto her, no longer resisting.  The thump of her heart draws him in until it becomes the center of his world. He sees darkness before his eyes, but hears the light of the heart kept away from him, safe behind her ribs.

It was an anxious thump, fastened with fear and lack of air, before easing into a smoother rhythm. BootHill didn’t realize he was shedding tears until her gentle fingers brushed over the edge of his eyes, prompting them to close. “ ‘m sorry..” he muttered, swallowing a breath before he nuzzles his head against her chest, shuffling so his artificial body followed the long lost habit of his past self in the form of hugging. Mechanical arms practically trap her under him, and she only hugs his head closer. This is the least she could do..

Hearing him cry into her chest broke her heart, feeling how her shirt became damp,  and hearing him murmuring apologies for every tear that fell tested her strength too. He felt broken and lost, in hatred of the fate he was forced into and the suffering he had to endure, and he couldn’t give up, for that would mean betraying you. He just had to keep moving. 

BootHill can’t betray the only person left that he loves, and that loves him in return. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[rivatar]

“Love Bites”

Pairing: Adult!Neteyam x fem!human!reader

W/c: 1.2k

Warnings/content: MDNI smut!, biting/marking, blood thirsty neteyam, a lil somnophilia but not much, established relationship, fingering, demon Teyam

A/n: this is prompt 6 for Pandora’s Bloody Moon, I’m sorry it’s 2 days late, I was so busy this weekend😩 also I’m sorry if it’s not good, it’s def not my best work but still hope you guys can enjoy :)

“I’ll see you tomorrow, paskalin,” Neteyam sweetly bid you goodbye with a peck on the cheek.

“Okay, Teyam,” you softly smiled in return.

He had walked you back to the lab and as much as you both stalled already, it was time to part ways. The upcoming Blood Moon tonight meant an early goodbye for the day. You two have been dating for months now, and the future Olo’eyktan has made it clear he wants to be mates with you, only when you were ready. However, it is not always easy handling your differences between your two species. Like tonight, for example; all the other Na’vi could participate in the night of the Blood Moon but you couldn’t, you’d be ripped apart and possibly killed. So, Neteyam made sure you were safe and sound back in your room in the lab complex well before nighttime settled in. He couldn’t have his little paskalin get eaten by the wolves.

…

Neteyam missed you at dinner but he knew it was for the best. He wanted nothing more than to keep you safe. Safe from the others and even himself. He didn’t know what he would be capable of doing to you. He didn’t even wanna be anywhere near his family, so he set off deep into the forest.

It was now eclipse and the Moon made its appearance. The moonlight made his skin tingle and he watched in bewilderment as his skin faded from azure to a milky gray. Though this happens every year, it never fails to bring an unsettling feeling of not having control over the effects. His breaths quickened and he felt strength and power spread through his limbs, creating the urge to break something. His little bioluminescent freckles turned to red speckles, much like the red irises he now possessed. His brain was processing the physical changes to his body as well as the feelings and urges that flooded his mind. His tongue felt his sharper canines and he thirsted for blood. Not just any blood though, your blood. He imagined your human blood would be much sweeter than anything else here. He knew his right mind was slipping away when his body naturally started carrying him in the direction of you.

…

He forcefully entered the lab and went straight to your room. Opening the door carefully, as to not wake you.

You were peacefully sleeping away, probably having sweet dreams. In the very back of his mind he knew he shouldn’t disturb you— knew he shouldn’t wake you and then watch you be terrified of the way he looked right now. But his instincts consumed him and controlled his thoughts now. He had to have you.

Walking over carefully, he noticed you were wearing a loose tank top, exposing much of your skin. He slowly lifted the cover off of your body and was met with the precious sight of you only wearing panties for bottoms. You were so sweet and small to him, your dainty little night clothes driving him absolutely insane. You were too good to be true in his opinion.

He gently slid his hand over your legs and arms, loving how soft and plush your smooth skin was. You moved some in your sleep, still not noticing him yet. He tried to keep his breathing in control by breathing in his nose and out his mouth quietly.

“So beautiful, yawne,” he whispered admiringly.

He started kneading your flesh, getting extremely aroused by you. He wanted nothing more than to dig his sharp canines into your skin and bite you—hopefully drawing some blood. But he needed you to wake up first so you wouldn’t be scared and flee from him.

He softly shook your form, beckoning you to wake up. You slowly stirred out of your slumber and your eyes blinked open—only to see those red eyes staring back at you. You jumped back at the sight of him and gasped.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay baby, it’s me!” He tried to calm you.

“T-Teyam?” You choked out weakly, “You’re n-not supposed to be here” your mind quickly registered.

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stop myself from coming to see you… you’ll have to forgive me for what I’m going to do”

Your body was stiff and your eyes were full of concern for what he meant and what he might do to you in this state. But you slowly nodded as you relaxed some because it was still your Teyam and you trusted him.

“You look so pretty, baby,” he cooed while stroking your cheek tenderly. You smiled in return, still feeling a bit hesitant.

Then suddenly he leaned back down to your thighs and latched his teeth onto one of them.

“Teyam!!!!” You flew up to sit upright on the bed and looked at him. The pain of his canines impaling your skin combined with the pleasurable feeling of his warm mouth overwhelmed the nerves on your skin.

He only hummed and moaned on your flesh in response. You slightly winced, still staring at him in bewilderment. Then he smoothed his tongue over the wound, licking away the blood from the little pricks he made. He pulled back to admire his work, loving how his bite now marked you as his.

“Don’t think I can’t smell you, sevin. You liked it, didn’t you?” He smirked.

You blushed, still feeling confused at the mix of pain and pleasure and how it really did turn you on. You nodded and got out a weak “yeah..”

This only aroused him more. He wanted to see how you’d look writhing under him as he pleasured your pussy while marking other parts of your body. So he lifted your legs up to your chest and slid your panties to the side to see your glistening little cunt.

“Fuck baby. I might have to bite you more from now on,” he gloated.

He slowly pushed a finger into you and you moaned at the sensation, your head already swirling from the intense pleasure he gave you. He started pumping the digit, stating in awe at the mess you made and the loud squelching sounds.

He hovered over you and positioned himself closer to your face, connecting your lips in a needy kiss. You greedily took the kiss, tongues swirling and your lips getting all puffy. He moved down to your neck and latched onto it, pulling out a guttural moan from you. He hummed in the satisfaction of tasting your sweet blood again and it turned him on more, so he mindlessly dry humped your side and the bed, dying to get some kind of friction for his cock.

His efforts made you cum on his fingers, spewing out whimpers and moans in the process. He was still cleaning your neck wound while you were coming down from the high.

It seemed that having a taste of you only made him want more.

It was going to be a long night.

Taglist: @neteyamssyulang @bambithewriter @professional-yapper @property-of-neteyam @hidden-snow @live-laugh-neteyam @nonamevenus @loakstahni @ikeyniofthetayrangi @sugarsong78 @inolaphoenix @strongheartneteyam

[yesimwriting]

okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol

A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭

also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy

ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol

----

Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.

The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.

For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.

Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.

You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.

His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.

You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"

The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.

"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."

The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.

A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.

"Analyzing?"

You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."

"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."

You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.

Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.

"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.

If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.

Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.

He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.

Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.

"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."

Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.

Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.

At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.

But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.

"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."

He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."

You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."

Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.

"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."

You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."

He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.

Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.

"I have an early class."

You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.

Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.

He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."

The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.

"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."

His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.

You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."

He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."

You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."

Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.

You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.

The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.

It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.

He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.

"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.

Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."

The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.

Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."

He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"

Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.

He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.

Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.

"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.

It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."

You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."

Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.

"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.

The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."

So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.

"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."

The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."

Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"

"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."

He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."

The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."

You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."

"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."

"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.

He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."

"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."

Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."

You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."

He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."

You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.

Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"

"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."

You immediately grin, "Really?"

He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."

You beam. "I'd really like that."

"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."

Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.

"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."

Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."

He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."

Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."

He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.

This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.

Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.

For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.

"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.

Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."

[viking-raider]

Moon Crazed *Mature*

Summary: Henry seems especially crazed on his birthday, and you don't understand why, until you check the calendar again.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning: M - Fluff, Angst, Banter, Pet Names, Language, Gray Hair Appreciation, Cuddles, Supportive Spouse SMUT - Birthday Sex, Oral (F receiving), Fingering (F Receiving), Unprotected Sex (Wrap it!), Possible Voyeurism, Sneak Attacks, Doggy Style, Hickeys, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Super light Anal, Rutting, Hinted Breeding Kink, Light Spanking, Body Fluids, Biting

Inspiration: Henry's 40th Birthday being on a literal Full Moon!

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy! @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY

You hummed softly, standing at the refrigerator as you filled your water bottle with ice from the dispenser. Unaware of the predator stalking up behind you. Until strong hands grabbed a hold of your hips, causing you to let out a startled scream and drop your bottle, the ice chips rattling in the black plastic as it struck the hardwood floor.

“Henry!” You yelped as he spun you around to face him, but smiled, nonetheless. “What are-” You started, but he captured your lips in a hungry, heated kiss, that had you breathless before you could finish your question.

There were black spots in your eyes, when the kiss finally broke and you were dizzy, only vaguely aware of a coolness from your waist down, then Henry's hands were back on your hips and he was lifting you onto the island in the middle of the kitchen. You hissed, feeling the cold butcher block on your bare skin, Henry having stripped you of your pants and underwear.

“Whoa, Cavill!” You huffed, pressing your knees together and planting your palms to his collarbone. “The fuck has you so crazed?” You asked, seeing how bright, clear and wild his blue eyes were, his pupils blown out from his mounting arousal.

“This.” He purred, his voice rumbling, as his fingers swiped at your exposed folds.

“Oh, holy Jesus!” You gasped, off guard, wiggling on the counter. “Right, Okay.” You panted, softly. “Birthday boy is in a mood.”

“Birthday boy is hungry.” He growled, dropping to his knees and yanking you to the edge of the island, your legs draped over his broad shoulders, while his mouth showed no mercy at attacking your womanhood.

Your hands flew to his head, fingers tangling in his curls. “What is it? A full moon!” You cried out, eyes crossing and rolling back, feeling Henry's tongue swirl against your swelling clit. “Hen-Ry.” You moaned, hands slipping from his hair as you fell back across the counter, the muscles of your thighs twitching under his onslaught.

“Such nice red velvet.” He cooed, his breath hot against your wet folds, as he licked your icing off his lips.

“You're crazy.” You wheezed back, your head lulling side to side, while you gazed up at the vaulted ceiling.

Smirking, Henry pressed his lips to your humming pearl, drawing a breathy moan from deep in your throat, with the gentle suckles that only grew with intensity. His tongue flicking out to tease, torture and collect your sweet nectar, but never yet permitting the mounting rapture that balanced on a knife's edge. You tried rolling your hips against his mouth, antsy to feel that sweet relief at the mercy of his skilled mouth. But Henry's hands gripped them, pinning you to the counter with a near bruising strength.

“It's my birthday.” Henry huffed between your thighs, glaring up the length of your heaving body, feeling the throb of his clothed girth at the sight of the mounds of your breasts, nipples hard through the fabric of your shirt. “Behave.” He growled, slipping a hand into your shirt to pinch and tease one of your peaks, while his mouth left a dark purple mark on the inside of your trembling thigh.

You shivered at the contact, whimpering, but laid as still as you could. Henry chuckled, loving the madness he was driving you into. He laid an open mouth kiss to your pearl and took a deep breath, filling his senses with your heady scent, that only seemed to drag him deeper into his own psychosis. You hiccuped at the feel of his teeth nipping at your dripping petals, lifting your head and letting out a shocked huff at Henry, whose eyes only regarded you mischievously, not willing to stop and lift his head.

His tongue finally split you open, licking and snaking down your tunnel, chuckling at the hums and pants you were making at the attention. He removed his hand from your hip, his thumb easily finding your clit and applied just the right amount of pressure as his tongue found your spot.

Starting to hiccup, with surprise at the rushing of the orgasm that hit you, your back curving off the counter, before it caught in your throat, face twisting in ecstasy. “Henry!” You cried out, breaking through the surprise, “Oh god, Hen!” You mewled, falling limp as it wore off.

Henry stood up, a heavenly and satisfied look on his face. “Mmm.” He moaned, smirking at you. “You taste so damn good, baby girl.” He chuckled, wiping at the droplets on his lips and chin, before tugging down his sweatpants.

“Shit!” You cried out, nails clawing at the butcher block underneath you as Henry eased his weeping cock into you. “Warn a girl!” You barked, hooking your shaking legs around his thighs.

“That was your warning, babe.” Henry laughed, gripping one of your hips and planting his other hand on the counter, as leverage.

You looked up at Henry and saw a familiar glint in his blue eyes, but it seemed a bit more than usual. “Christ alive.” You sighed, gripping the wrist he had at your hip.

“You're all strapped in, honey?” He chuckled, rubbing your hip with his thumb.

“I know you, Cavill!” You answered, clenching around him.

Moaning, Henry bit his bottom lip and pushed his hips forward into you with as much strength as he could, rocking you further up the counter. With his pace set, Henry didn't relent, not even when your nails broke the skin of his wrist.

“Filling you up never gets old, babe.” Henry panted, recovering from his climax. “Unlike somethings.”

“The hell does that mean?” You wheezed, gulping thickly.

“Nothing.” He sighed, pulling you up and kissing you sweetly on the lips. “Just rambling. Come take a shower with me?” He asked, smiling at you.

“Of course.” You nodded, sliding off the island and following upstairs to the master bathroom.

Later that afternoon, you stood in the laundry room tossing things from a hamper into the washing machine, when you looked up and saw Henry's reflection in the window that was behind the machine.

“Hey there, handsome.” You cooed at him, leaning into the hamper to grab the last handful of dirty clothes. “Did you have a good workout?” You asked, tossing them in and closing the lid.

“Mmhm.” He replied, resting his shoulder against the door frame to watch you.

“Good.” You smiled, pushing up on your toes to reach the controls and started the machine, just as Henry pushed off the door towards you, trapping you against the vibrating appliance. “What—Oh, this again?” You purred, feeling his hand slip around you and into the band of your leggings and panties. “You are in a randy mood today, Puppy.” You said, in a sultry voice.

“Just today?” He husked back, gently rubbing your still, slightly, sore delicates.

You chuckled softly, unsure how to answer that or if it was rhetorical. “You always make me feel good, Henry.” You moaned, letting your head fall back against his shoulder. “Above other things.” You smirked, kissing the underside of his jaw.

“Mmm.” Henry moaned back at you, working his fingers a little more vigorously against your privates. “What other things?” He asked, pushing your shirt up and cupping one of your breasts in his paw.

“I think you're currently do-doing a goo-good job.” You gulped, pressing your back harder against his chiseled chest.

“Oh yeah?” He smirked, pressing his lips to the top of your head, as a finger crooked into your entrance, teasing. “You like when I finger you?”

“Like is an inadequate word.” You whimpered, toes curling against the tiles of the laundry room floor. “Love it. Get off on the mere thought of. Have a yearning for most hours of the day.” You confessed, bracing a hand on the edge of the washer to help keep yourself up.

Henry smiled into your hair and allowed you to give in, feeling your wet warmth wash over his hand. “I love pleasuring you, more than almost everything else.” He cooed, turning you around to cup your face in his sticky hand, kissing you deeply.

“More laundry.” You giggled, after breaking the kiss, taking off your leggings and soiled panties, opening the washer machine to toss them in, yelping as Henry's hand connected to your bum.

“If I had it my way, you'd only be naked at home.” He grinned, biting the corner of his lip at the mere thought of getting to see your naked body at all hours in the privacy of your home.

“Oh, of that I am sure, my love.” You snorted, nodding your head. “And the feeling is mutual.” You added, tugging on the front of his shirt.

“I can fix that.” Henry laughed, blue eyes glittering.

Laying on your bed, arms folded beneath you, exhausted from the events of the day, you were again unaware of Henry coming for you, until you heard the floor creak.

“Christ alive!” You spooked, looking at him, before busting out into a smile, finding he was stark naked. “What has gotten into you, Henry?” You asked, rolling onto your back to look at him. “Twice already today we've had shenanigans throughout the house.” You said, running your eyes along his godly body. “Not counting our regular morning meeting.”

“Is it so hard to believe I can't get enough of you.” Henry asked, cocking a brow in your direction.

“No, not in the slightest, husband.” You purred at him, feeling his waves of need coming off of him, even from the gap between you. “It's just strange. You haven't been this needy in quite a while.”

“I've been on a mission to correct that.” He confessed, closing that gap. “Get undressed.” He ordered you, standing at the edge of the bed.

Smirking at him, you pulled your shirt off over your head, breasts bouncing as you did, much to Henry's delight and increased arousal. But when it came to your shorts, thumbs hooking in the waistband of them and your panties, you pushed them down painfully slow, your eyes dead on Henry's. You watched his throat bob and his fingers flex, as he pulled out every ounce of willpower not to launch forwards and rip the article of clothing off of you, himself.

His willpower finally broke and he snatched your pants off the rest of the way, tossing them carelessly aside, then climbing into bed with you, rolling you back onto your belly.

“Oh, we're just being a ball of fun today!” You giggled, as he used his knees to push your legs apart, one thick arm wrapping around your waist and hoisted your hips and bum up, while rutting his hard cock against the valley of your cheeks, grunting in your ear.

“I'll show you fun.” He growled, biting the side of your neck, while grasping himself at the base.

You let out a breath, feeling his tip run down between your cheeks, making the space slick with glossy droplets. He paused to tease your special hole, causing you to gasp and clench in surprise, a rumble of a chuckle bubbling out of Henry as he carried on, rubbing your pleasantly weeping entrance.

“Do you like it when I play with you?” He rasped, pressing his forehead against your temple, his eyes dark, like a storm over an ocean. “When I fill you up.”

“Hm.” You hummed, pushing back against him, eager and impatient to feel him fill you again. “I love it.” You whispered, breathily. “It makes me feel good, Henry.”

Smirking, Henry slowly eased himself inside of you, wanting to feel every little bit as he did. A shiver ran down both your backs as the last inch of his manhood came to rest in your sensitive canal, flexing and molding around him. With quick snaps of his hips, Henry drove himself into you without giving away any ground.

You moaned, hands twisting up in the duvet beneath you as Henry rocked harder into you. Arching your back more, adjusting him and causing you to let out a sweet, almost deafening, cry. Henry grasped the underside of your jaw, pulling your head back to rest on his shoulder and closing his mouth against your throat, timing his sucks and bites with his thrusts.

Leaving behind yet another mark of his passion for you.

“Henry, please.” You moaned, brows creasing. “Touch me.” You gulped, licking your lips.

He moaned against your neck, removing his hand from your face to slip it beneath you, finding your swollen bud, drenched in your combined fluids. Henry was torturous at rubbing clit, but did nothing to rush the pace of his hips. You whined, kicking your feet a little bit and shifting your knees to try and get more leverage, but Henry used his own body to keep you in place.

“You devil.” You sighed at him, yanking your neck away from his mouth.

“Mmhm.” Henry hummed back, not missing a beat, but smirked at you devilishly, before pulling away from you, standing up on his knees to watch himself slide in and out of you. “What a beautiful sight this is.” He purred, rubbing his palm up and down your glistening back, squeezing your neck for a moment.

“Pity you can't see it yourself.”

“Feels amazing as is, big boy.” You answered, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Henry popped you on the ass, applying more pressure to your clit and increased his thrusts, rocking the headboard against the wall. You gripped the duvet for leverage and rocked in tune with him, feeling the hot build of your climax, soft whimpers leaving your parted lips and tears blurring your vision as it finally boiled over, surging around Henry's shaft, the hot pulse intensifying as his own orgasm mounted.

“Henry!” You cried, the sensation of him pumping searing ribbons of his seed into you just as maddening compared to your own.

Pulling out of you, Henry dropped to his side beside you, flushed, sweaty and panting. You rolled onto your side, unfazed by the massive wet spot on the blanket the two of you made, and looked at your husband, smirking. Reaching out for him and gently brushing the damp curls off his forehead, your eyes softening at the sight of the grays you saw in them. Especially at his temple. They drew a smile across your lips.

“What are you smiling about?” Henry asked lazily, cracking an eye at you.

You giggled at him, wiggling in closer. “Just noticing all the new grays you have.” You cooed, resting your head on his bicep and twisting the graying curl around the tip of your index finger, fondly, only to have Henry turn his head out of your grasp.

“Old man.” He huffed, a frustrated crease between his brows.

“Hardly!” You laughed, amused, pressing a kiss on his sternum. “Just because you turned forty today, doesn't make you an old man, Cavill.”

“I damn well feel like one.” Henry growled, fixing his blue eyes on you. “Never this winded after making love to you.”

You sucked your bottom lip in, biting down on it, as you regarded him with understanding and loving eyes. “Is this what everything's been about today?” You finally asked, cupping his bearded cheek. “You sneak attacking me everywhere in the house.” You smirked, your body tingling at just recalling them, but your smile faded seeing the look in his eyes and face.

“Do you think you can't--” You struggled for a moment, a lump in your throat.

“Satisfy you.” He finished for you. “Yes. I've been worried that hitting forty meant that I would lose the ability to keep satisfying you. Seeing the gray hairs in the morning, when I get up to shower, has only increased that anxiety.” He confessed, looking away from you.

“Henry.” You mewled, heartbroken at your husband's words. “You have never lacked there, or anywhere. Today is a fine example of that.” You tried to get him to understand. “We were intimate four times throughout the day, on top of the festivities for your birthday. You have nothing to be concerned about.”

Henry looked back up at you, a look of relief in his cerulean orbs. “You don't think I look silly with them?”

You huffed and clicked your tongue at him, rolling your eyes. “Henry Cavill, I've known and seen you with a great many looks over the last eight years, because of your occupation, and I've never known you to look silly.” You told him, honestly. “Even when you thought you would with the Kingstache.” You giggled, grinning at that memory.

“Lord, that was an identity crisis.” He huffed, shaking his head.

“But,” You looked him squarely in the eyes. “You with gray hair is rather dashing, in my opinion, and I can't wait to see a few more.”

“Oh, that's how it is!” He said, wrapping his arms around you and rolling onto his back, so you straddled his waist. “You like being married to this gray fox!” He laughed, pawing at your butt.

“What is this! A full moon!” You whooped, wiggling out of his grasp to grab your phone and pulled up what phase it was. “Sure as hell!” You laughed, looking over at him. “Your birthday is a full moon!” You smirked, setting your phone back on the nightstand and crawled back into bed with him.

“So, my gray fox is Moon Crazed!”

“Crazed by something.” Henry purred, pulling you in for a kiss.

[lucygxybaird]

What about Billy doting over an injured reader? Or the other way around?

i'm not sure this is 100% what you asked for but i tried lol

It happens in a moment.

You’re riding home during a storm, the dirt roads churned into a river of mud by the deluge. It’s almost impossible to see, between the driving rain and your hair whipping in your face, strands plastered against your cheeks and your forehead. As lightning cracks the sky like a broken eggshell, you urge your horse faster, hoping to get home before the storm gets even worse. 

Your horse snorts in exertion, and you see her hoof plunge deep into a pocket of muck, her headlong forward rush arrested so suddenly that you both cry out, her whinny of alarm blending with your scream. You pitch forward, flying over your horse’s neck. The last thing you remember is the slate gray sky wheeling above you, spitting needles of rain, and then everything goes black. 

You don’t know how long it’s been when awareness creeps back in, heralded first and foremost by pain.  Aches thread themselves into your bones and your head throbs in time to the beat of your heart, which feels sluggish, as if it’s trapped in honey. Your arm feels strangely heavy, bent at an odd angle, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t find the strength to open your eyes. 

You feel a cool pressure against your forehead, trickling over your temples, and it takes you a moment to understand. There’s someone pressing a wet washcloth to your brow, and as your eyelids flutter, attempting once again to pry themselves apart, you hear a soft, low voice urging you to be still. 

The thing is, you’re fairly certain you would know that voice anywhere, and only its velvet-edged smoke could draw you out of the darkness weighing heavily on your mind. 

“Billy?” you croak, and this time, you finally manage to open your eyes. 

His eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, with dark circles sitting underneath them like crows haunting a tree branch. Billy tries to smile, but his eyes are glassy, and he has to swallow hard before he says, “Hey, baby.” 

You swallow, too, wincing as it feels like barbed wire has wound itself around the column of your throat. You want to say that you’re sorry, but you’re so very, very thirsty. Instead, you manage to say: “W-water?”

Immediately, Billy reaches for you, helping you to sit up enough so you can drink from the cup he presses to your lips. There’s a tin pitcher on your bedside table, and the water is blessedly cold. You wonder how often Billy has freshened it, waiting for you to need it. “Here,” he’s saying, his arm around your shoulders. “Is that better?”

You nod, and then you tug on the collar of his shirt with your good hand, wanting him to lay down with you. It’s only then you notice that you only have one good hand. The other, along with your right arm, is wrapped up in bandages, a splint forcing the arm into an L-shape that’s bound to your chest with a sling.  Billy understands what you want before you can ask again, and he carefully shifts his weight onto the mattress beside you, his arm still wrapped around you.

Your body aches anew from the simple movement just required to sit up, and you sag against Billy’s chest, a little whimper catching in your teeth even as you try to prevent its escape by clenching your jaw. Billy’s forehead creases. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m—” You shake your head. “I’m okay. I’m just…sore.” 

It’s putting it mildly, but you don’t want to stress him out any worse than you clearly already have. He sighs, burying his face against your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “The doctor will be back in the morning,” he says. “I’ll ask him if there’s anything stronger for your pain, okay?”

You nod, though now that you’ve settled in his arms, you feel better. Part of it is the warmth of his body, soothing away the ache, but more than that is the comfort of Billy himself: the familiar scent of his skin — the strength of his embrace, even as you can tell he’s holding you gently, carefully — the gentle carding of his fingers through your hair, an instinctive bid to comfort you. 

The two of you lay there in silence for a few moments, and you know (or, at least, you hope) that it’s doing Billy as much good as it is you, to be nestled in bed together after what happened. Which — you frown a little as your memory falters, and you realize you can’t quite recall what actually did happen. 

“Billy?”

You feel him jerk underneath your cheek, and you realize with a start that he’d probably dozed off in the cradle of silence. “What?” he says, and your guilt deepens at how groggy he sounds, and at once, how worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” you say, reaching up with your good arm to touch his cheek. “I just…I don’t really remember what happened.”

Billy softens at your touch, closing his eyes for a second. Your heart sinks. 

“Billy, when was the last time you slept?” 

He shakes his head. “I dunno, it doesn’t matter,” he says. “I’ve been takin’ care of you. You broke your arm, y’know, when you…when you fell. That’s what happened, you fell off your horse. I…”

You wait, pressing your lips together. You start rubbing the heel of your hand in soothing circles over his chest, where his heartbeat is pressing a rapid drumbeat against the thin cotton of his shirt. 

“I was wonderin’ where you were, and I was gettin’ worried, especially with the rain bein’ so bad, so I…I went out and tried to follow the path I thought you might have used. I heard your horse first, makin’ the most godawful racket…I followed the noise, and she was panickin’, stuck in the mud, and then I saw…” 

He takes a deep breath. “I saw you, layin’ there, and you looked so…you looked like a broken doll, and you weren’t movin’, and I thought…”

You wait again. 

“Anyway, I—” He clears his throat. “I got you on my horse, and I was able to get your horse out of the muck, and I brought…I brought you home. Your arm is broken, and you’ve got bumps and bruises just about everywhere.”

“Yeah, I know,” you mutter, despite yourself, but you’re rewarded with Billy’s dry little chuckle. 

“They were…they were most worried about your head,” he says. “The doctors say you were lucky the rain softened up the ground so much, but still…”

“How long have I been asleep?”

He pushes a ragged sigh out of the depths of his chest. “A few days.”

You can feel every bit of his worry in the tension radiating through the sinews of his body, and you nestle closer to him, despite the jostle of discomfort. “Well, now you’ll just have to wait on me hand and foot until I’m all better,” you tease. “Pretty soon you’ll get sick of me.”

He chuckles again, and this time it sounds more like him. “I can’t imagine gettin’ sick of takin’ care’a you, honey.”

Not that you really doubted otherwise, but he’s true to his word. 

The doctor has decreed that you need to stay in bed for the next two weeks, and Billy is determined that you won’t set so much as a toe on the floorboards in that time. Every meal is brought to you in bed, he  drags the big metal bathtub into your room, and when you beg him for some sunshine, he carries you out to the porch and sets you in a rocking chair, nestled in blankets. 

“Mmm,” you sigh, your eyes drifting shut as Billy pulls a brush through your hair, using long, languid strokes from your scalp to the ends of your hair. “That feels so good.” 

Billy gives a low, soft laugh. “Yeah?” he says, and you hear a smile in his voice. “I’m glad, baby. You want it done up in a braid?”

You laugh, too. “Billy, you don’t have to…”

“I want to,” he insists. “I know you like to sleep with your hair plaited up. Let me.” 

With your arm still bound up, it’s not like you can really do it yourself, and in any case, you don’t have the heart to refuse Billy — especially not when you turn your head to look at him, and he’s giving you that patented pleading look. “Yes, please,” you relent, and at once his pout melts into another smile.

You close your eyes at the pleasant tugging sensation to your scalp, a soft sigh leaving your lips. “Thank you,” you say, and you can almost sense him shaking his head. 

“You don’t have to thank me, honey,” he says. “I love takin’ care of you. And I’m just…I’m glad you’re okay.” 

He ties off your braid with a length of ribbon, giving the knot a gentle tug to make sure it’s in place. You turn in his arms, the only unwieldy thing now being your broken arm. Thanks to Billy’s dedicated care, your aches and pains have all faded away, including the pain in your head. “I am okay,” you remind him. “You’ve been taking such good care of me, Billy. It means so much to me.”

Billy kisses your forehead. “You mean so much to me,” he says. “You’re my girl. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.” 

You purse your lips thoughtfully, and he raises an eyebrow. “What?” he asks. 

Looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes, you wheedle, “Do you think you could let me make dinner tonight? I wanna take care of you for once.”

You can tell he’s actually thinking about it, wondering if you’ve regained enough of your strength. But it’s equally clear he’s going to relent when his shoulders soften. 

“Alright,” he says finally, and you beam. 

“Thank you.” 

Although you do manage to make dinner for the two of you, Billy insists on setting the table — which actually ends up being a blanket outside, under a phalanx of stars. “So I have a deal for you,” he says, after you’ve eaten. He has your head in his lap, and your good hand is combing gently through his hair. 

“What is it?”

He smiles, looking up at you. “I take care of you,” he says. “And you take care of me. Alright?”

You lean down toward him, giggling when he props himself up on an elbow to meet your lips.

“Alright.” 

[polkasharks]

ITS FINALLY FINISHED GODDDDDD !!!!!!!FINALLY TOOK THE TIME TO DRAW OUT MY BLUE TEAM FACECANONS ALL AT ONCE….. all in one sitting !! ^_^ 7 hours of work help me help me. Red team (including Doc ofc) + Carolina will come at some point…. I’ll prob make another separate sheet for the freelancers and another for the Chorus cast !! ANYWAY See below for some notes/explanations and shtuff :3

Alpha and Epsilon— No huge differences, I gave Epsilon curlier hair and facial hair closer to the Director’s because Alpha’s body is intended to be Private Jimmy which I have a whole different ramble prepared for that but I will spare everyone. Just wanted to set them apart in hair texture mostly ! Also Alpha looks significantly more repressed to me and that’s deliberate. Virgin Alpha vs Chad Epsilon. Anyways moving on

Tucker— OKAYYY OKAY my work for him here is my favorite :3 I’m biased incredibly but. Cough. Anyways. I like glasses Tucker I’m shameless about it. Honestly my three designs for him are all just amalgamations of my favorite things I see in fanon… also I did NOT forget to add his lenses in his second design that was deliberate because I think it’d be cool if all the alien biz fixed his eyes and he just popped the lenses out because he wasn’t ready to let go of them yet. 110% not projecting trust (lie) Also for the Chorus trilogy I did wanna make a point of him looking a lot more tired and fed up with shit becsuse!!! Damn !!! He is !!!! But yeah everythingb else is pretty standard in fanon … metrosexual good looks 😝!!!!

Caboose— Weirdly enough I had the most trouble w/ Caboose ? I wanted him to initially (as in during bgc) look pretty simple and standard and over time kinda grow into himself more I suppose …. I have yet to fully work on my red team hcs but its funny because my Donut and my Caboose share that in common big time. Chorus trilogy mini ponytail was a necessity I forever fuck with mullet Caboose honestly I just didn’t feel like expressing thag properly.

Washington— Wash … my everything….. wow…. He is not a white guy to me shrugs. During PFL I imagine he was never caught lacking roots wise His shit was prob so fucking fried 😭😭PUT THE BLEACH DOWN!!!!!!! Recovery One and allllll the Meta bullshite and stuffs obviously he stops giving a fuck about his appearance in general and keeps up just enough with cutting his hair for it to be convenient. Redemption Wash is pretty self explanatory he’s graying he’s tired he’s the happiest and the most miserable he’s ever been all at the same time he’s trying his best and its ok Also his scar is fading it’s not as noticeable as I wanted it to be but I didn’t feel like adjusting.

Kai— I literally just had fun with her😭😭 I was so close to abandoning this by the time I started working on her I just needed to have fun. I think she’d appreciate that sentiment . Decided to go with long hair AND short hair bc I love Kai both ways and didn’t wanna just pick one also I just think it’s silly that instead of growing it Out from a regulation cut she chops it all off lol.

Tex— gggguhhh Texas save meeee Texassss….. wanted her to look like Allison of course just sharper and rougher around the edges. I didn’t feel like including a second vers at this point when I could just share my vision here but I like the thought of her second incarnation coming back with black hair instead

Side note because my style doesn’t rlly allow for it LOL.. I could’ve made it work just didn’t feel like it— I imagine Alpha is also set aside from Epsilon in that his eyes are brown; not the Director’s green. Tex as well lacks Allison’s blue eyes and instead has completely black !

Also you may notice some overlap in coloring ignore thaaaatttt thanks 😇💜

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Gaming - "Beautiful Adeptus, Sky Weaver"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which the Traveler and Paimon unknowingly come across a mysterious adeptus by the name of Sky Weaver while the two are exploring near the sparsely populated cliffsides of Mt. Mingyuan. Or; In which the long-forgotten tale of the adeptus Sky Weaver is uncovered by Aether from the lips of the various Adepti of the Nation of Liyue and the people who know them.

Prologue | Part 1 | (1.5) | Part 2 | (2.5) | Part 3 | (3.5) | Part 4 | (4.5) | Part 5 | (5.5) | Part 6 | (6.5) | Epilog | Extra 1 | Extra 2

                                                                                                   

🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆

The silhouette of Yilong Wharf draws nearer and becomes larger with each step taken toward it; the distant view is rendered unfocused by the uneven terrain being traversed. The sleepy sun is drooping down behind the teal hills to the west, bathing the sky in an ethereal medley of pinks, yellows, and reds. The afternoon today seems to hold an air of melancholy that wasn't present in the last, yet it still has enough beauty to overshadow that faint sadness.

Aether sighs for what could've been the hundredth time today; his mind playing the memory of the events on Mt. Mingyuan on a loop. He did regret leaving the mountain, even if it was on request out of concern for his and Paimon's safety. There were so many questions he wanted to ask them, the possibility of also gaining more information about Lumine meant that most of them were about her. Yet there was also the mystery of Chenyu Vale's skies that he longed to uncover; the curiosity that it stirred in him tumbled about in his mind.

‘But… that's not too important right now…’  

The golden blonde thought as he gazed down at the snoozing fairy-like girl in his arms with soft eyes, gently moving a lock of white hair from her face.

“Don't worry, Paimon, I'll make sure to cook you something extra delicious once we get back to the Inn. I shouldn't have scared you like that.”  

Aether mutters to her as he strokes her head.

The small girl peels her eyes open just a bit and smiles sleepily at her traveling companion; her eyes are all red and puffy with dried tears in the corners of her eyes. 

“Hehe… Paimon will make sure… to hold you to that, so make sure you keep your promise, okay?”  

She whispers between yawns in her hoarse and scratchy voice; a little fist going up to rub at her eyes as the other takes a handful of his shirt.

The golden blonde only nodded and chuckled softly at her cute mannerisms, the display reminding him of a small child. He watched as she made futile attempts to fight sleep; eyes drooping and head bobbing to the side. The soft smile on his face only softened further as he took the initiative and began to gently rock her back and forth. Paimon seemingly finally relents and falls into slumber; her little hand still holding onto his shirt.

Aether sighs once again, somehow traveling with Paimon has made him miss his sister even more with each passing day. Instead of being the younger sibling, he feels like the older one. He'd always wanted a younger sibling, to be looked up to and relied on, to be sought out for protection or advice. Somedays, he wonders if Lumine is relieved now that he's not tagging along with her everywhere; since he fished the small girl out of the water on the beach under Starnatch Cliff, the golden blonde has learned how much responsibility is required to take care of someone younger than you.

The familiar sight of charcoal gray shingled white walls closes in as the golden-eyed boy approaches the side entrance of the wharf. He can already see the adeptea filled shallow baskets that were sat out to dry in the hot sun a couple days before. The children that usually wandered about and played had long retired back to their homes and into their beds at this time of day.

The setting sun, now just barely peeking over the rolling hills in the distance, has blanketed the landscape in a warm peach film. 

Hopefully, tomorrow will be far more productive.

It had been a few days since the incident at Mt. Mingyuan and Aether had thought it best to begin making their way back towards Liyue Harbor. At the moment he and Paimon were behind Mt. Lingmeng on the side opposite to river Jademouth; about halfway to Qioaying Village. The two were now enjoying some of the golden-eyed traveler's cooking as they relaxed after the days of walking that they had endured.

In the peaceful atmosphere, the only noises were the rhythmic sloshing of the river beside them, the bubbling of the water cooking pot, and the crackling of the fire beneath it, Paimon's munching, and—

“Oh! Hey Traveler!” 

A familiar voice called out to the golden blonde and broke him from his observation; the figures of a certain aspiring wushu dancer and his suanni companion coming into view.

Aether smiled, it had been a while since the two had last seen each other. Gaming's refreshing grin never failed to put the otherworldly blonde at ease when he was stressed; not to mention he always carries around that delicious winter melon cake.

Paimon grins as she floats off the chair that she was sitting on previously; overenthusiastically waving to the ochre-eyed boy and Man Chai. A chunk of chicken on the skewer that the girl was violently waving around flew and landed on the ground, making her whine and pout. The golden blonde chuckles at her as he pulls more food out of the cooking pot that he was kneeled over.

“I hope I'm not interrupting you both. I saw you from the road and thought I'd say hi!” 

The red-brunette goods transporter chirped kindly as he approached the small camp that the traveling pair had set up just off to the side of the nearby dirt road.

Aether only shakes his head in response and offers the other boy a few skewers; piercing steaming and fragrant chunks of chicken and mushrooms onto a few more of the still bare sharp ended sticks. Gaming thanks him and grabs a few, though the golden blonde suspected that it wasn't out of hunger but to be polite.

The four of them –well, three, since Man Chai can't really talk– caught each other up on what they had been up to while the other was away. In the midst of it all, however, a certain otherworldly boy had an epiphany. Didn't Gaming know Cloud Retainer? If he knew her, he might also know that mysterious adeptus that was on the mountain! Although it might be a small stretch, it was worth a try at the very least.

“Hey, Gaming. Do you know of any adepti that live on Mt. Mingyuan or like to visit it often?” 

The golden-eyed traveler eagerly inquired during a moment of comfortable silence between the trio.

Aether's sudden question had brought an expression of deep thought to the red-brunette's face; the boy's brow and nose crinkling as he contorted his face in contemplation. It was truly a cute display, though Paimon and the golden blonde wouldn't dare to say it out loud just in case they embarrassed the other.

Tapping his chin, the ochre-eyed boy glances to the side as if he had found an answer, but was unsure if it was the correct one. But, he nodded to himself with resolve before turning his gaze back to the long haired boy.

“I think I know who you're talking about. I don't know his name since he never told me, but he let me give him a nickname instead. Uncle Měilì is what I call him.” 

Gaming replies, yet his answer only seems to raise even more questions.

“Uncle Měilì? Why did you call him uncle? Ah! Are you half adeptus!? Hey! How could you hide that from Paimon!?” 

Paimon exclaims, spewing questions while placing a hand on her chest and giving Sword & Strongbox goods transporter a scandalized look; leftover food scraps still clinging to the corners of her mouth.

The ochre-eyed boy chuckles in a bashful way as a cartoon sweatdrop falls down the side of his head in a slow and comical fashion. Scratching the back of his head; he looked away in embarrassment at the sound of the name Měilì coming from another person's mouth. He was really bad at naming things when he was young, it seems.

“No, he's not my uncle by blood. He's just taken care of me from time to time since I was little,so I call him Uncle. It's like how I call Aunty Xianyun, Aunty.”

The red-brunette explains, adjusting his position to sit cross-legged instead of crouching just above the grass covered ground.

Paimon bobbed her head in understanding, her white hair bouncing and swaying along with the movement before Aether grabbed her chin and turned her face in his direction. He brought a small rag up to her cheeks and wiped away the leftover crumbs from earlier that had been bothering him; muttering something about how the small girl was 'so messy'.

“Did this adeptus you're talking about have the form of a glowing cloud of mist? Maybe glowing as well?” 

The golden blonde asked absentmindedly, his focus still occupied with cleaning up his fairy-like companions' appearance.

Gaming's eyes seemed to glimmer with familiarity at the other boy's words. He grinned widely, holding up his weight with his palms pressed into Chenyu Vale's token blueish-greenish grass. His body rocked back and forth with giddiness as memories flooded in and swirled around in his brain.

“He let you see his illuminated beast form? You both are lucky; he's usually not comfortable enough to allow people to know he's there, let alone see him. I even have a hard time convincing him to let me see it.” 

The goods transporter gazes at them both with admiration, clearly impressed by their normally impossible feat.

Aether raised a brow, his mind stewing with the new information. That was ‘Uncle Měilì’ true illuminated beast form? Weren't the adepti all some iteration of the ancient beasts of Liyue? Considering the other known adepti and their adeptal forms;

Zhongli is a dragon, Cloud Retainer and Mountain Shaper are cranes, Moon Carver is a stag, Madam Ping….?, Xiao is some type of bird, Ganyu is Half Qilin, Yanfei is Half… something, Tubby and Chubby are finches?, Changsheng is a Serpent, Fujin is a Carp, and Lingyuan is a Suanni?

All of them are some type of animal, so what's with the adeptus on Mt. Mingyuan?

“Is he not an illuminated beast? I mean- I know you called it his illuminated beast form, but all Paimon and I saw was a cloud of mist.” 

The golden blonde asked as he finally pulled away from his little friend, turning his gaze back to Gaming.

“You sure are curious about Uncle, but I don't mind answering more questions. Uncle is an illuminated beast; under the cloud of mist is a tortoise. The cloud is kind of like a tortoise shell from what I've seen.”

The red-brunette answers him calmly, tilting his head back to look up at the darkening sky, the sun beginning to hide itself behind the hills in the distance.

Golden eyes follow the aspiring wushu dancer's vision, taking note of the time. Aether then turns to his travel bag, opening one of the pouches and pulling out a sleeping bag.

“How about you stay the night with us, it'll take a while for you to get to the next village.” 

The Outlander suggests, lifting the sleeping bag towards Gaming with a kind smile that had an underlying pleading look to it.

Ochre eyes curve into crescents as the boy grabs onto the offered sleeping bag, carefully bringing it towards himself as he beams at the golden blonde in gratitude.

“Im- I'm heading back to Wangshu Inn in the morning to let Miss Verr Goldett know that their goods have been delivered… Do you want to come with me, since you're heading that way anyway?” 

The red-brunette suggests, shyly diverting his gaze to the side and scratching the back of his neck.

Both boys get under the covers of their respective sleeping bags, facing each other as their companions also slide themselves into the warmth of the makeshift bed.

“That would be nice, it's been a while since I've traveled with someone other than Paimon.”

Aether spoke in a whisper, golden eyes heavy with fatigue; he paused for a while before speaking once more.

“Goodnight, Gaming.”

“Goodnight, Traveler.”

The red-brunette whispers back, snuggling deeper into his sleeping bag.

“Goodnight, Traveler and Gaming don't let the cincins bite.”

Paimon's sleepy muffled voice called out the two from her place inside her and the golden blonde's shared sleeping bag.

“Rrmph”

Man Chai grumbles, softly headbutting Gaming's chest in complaint.

“Hehe Yes, you too, Man Chai.” 

The ochre-eyed boy chuckles as he softly pats his suanni companion on their furry head.

As the four fell into slumber, the moon rose into the sky. Vibrant colors weave themselves into the dark tapestry that was the blackened night sky, creating a colorful masterpiece.

🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆•♡•🎆

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Genshin Masterlist and Series Masterlist!

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[dontexpectmuch]

(if ur still taking requests) smth abt jude surprising a very stressed out student for their bday! i'm projecting horribly here 😍😍

author: happy (belated (?)) birthday!!!

—

you feel your phones vibration against your desk, gently tickling your skin. it pulls you out of a trance you didn’t even know you were in, your eyes now focused on the device.

a tired smile stretches on your lips, the contact name making you chuckle.

[from; The bestest best boyfriend]: open the door !

sighing, you get up from your chair and move to open the door of your small apartment, the sound of your steps as the only sound inside.

you open the door, immediately being met by a huge bouquet of blood red roses and red balloons, judes happy face the center of your sight. stepping to the side to let him enter, you take the flowers from his hands and move them to your face, the gentle scent of roses meeting your nose.

“hey, baby.” jude leans down to press a kiss on your lips, pelvis moving closer to press against yours.

you greet him back, though you see his eyebrows draw together, forehead creasing.

“you okay, love?” jude pushes your body towards your living room slash working space, placing the sweets tied to the ballon onto the table, taking the flowers from your head to put them on your desk.

you sigh for the nth time today, leaning against his body, slightly relaxing as you feel his warm hands caress your back.

jude speaks up again, voice laced with confusion, “babe?”

“‘m so tired, i don’t even know what to do.” you explain your behavior, though it doesn’t even come near to what you actually feel.

on top of being stressed and tired, you start to feel even worse because you can’t be happy to see your boyfriend. he doesn’t deserve to be greeted by your gloomy self like that, but you also know that he would never be mad at you for your feelings, immediately trying to help wherever he can.

“why aren’t you ready?” he asks, siting down on your couch and pulling you along by your wrist, positioning you on his lap.

“for what?”

you feel his hand move up and down your thigh as you lean against his body, head resting on the crook of his neck as you take in his manly scent, his aftershave tingling your brain in a way that you wouldn’t dare to put into words.

jude gasps, pushing your head up to hold it between his hands, thumbs drawing circles against your cheeks.

“your birthday dinner? you wanted to eat at that restaurant when we visited liverpool?” his words making bells ring in your head.

you loudly gasp as you stand up, “jude, babe, i,” your heart sinks as your eyes skim over his face, “i forgot?”

he tucks you down again, your legs caging his as you come face to face. “did you forget your own birthday?”

though jude smiles at you, thinking that this situation is quite funny, a moment the two of you would remember in your graying days, you can’t help but feel sad, closing your eyes as you put your forehead against his shoulder.

“exams are stupid.” you mumble, finally understanding why so many people have been calling you throughout the day.

you two sit on your couch for a while, small talk being exchanged between you. that is, until jude decides to get up to get your present that he left by the door, your heart’s rate picking up as you watch him sit next to you, a big bag placed on your lap.

“you didn’t have to-“

he puts his finger against your lips, successfully stopping you. “just, i hope you like it.”

you smile at him, thankful to have him in your life before you look down to pull out a rectangle box from the bag. your eyes widen as you are greeted by a white box, the familiar apple logo making tears sting your eyes.

your voice is soft, looking at your boyfriend who shyly looks at you through his lashes, “jude, i, oh my god, thank you so much.”

you move towards him to hug him tight, gratitude expressed through soft kisses spread over his neck.

“you said that your laptop was slow, and how many breakdowns you had because of it, so i thought, well, yeah.” he explains, his hand resting on your cheek once again, warmth radiating from his eyes.

your heart beats against your rips, heat creeping up your neck.

you knew that is an incredible person, someone who cares about his loved ones, giving as much as he can without expecting anything in return. you knew that he pays attention to everything you say, almost hanging on every word spilling from your lips, never making you say anything twice, but right now, fuck.

right now you feel loved in a way you never knew that existed, you feel so warm, so safe and comfortable that you wish to bathe yourself in this feeling for eternity, never once thinking of leaving this feeling. all the negative energy, all the thoughts of failure and the pain of final season wash away as you continue to look at your boyfriend, him returning your gaze of adoration twice as much.

“i love you.” you whisper, afraid of losing the moment.

jude leans forward to kiss your forehead, engulfing you with his scent.

“i love you even more.”

LETS FUCKING GOOOOIOOOOOOOO

(exams make me question my existence.)

[hanasnx]

reader at a party w jj and makes eye contact w rafe and starts teasing him by grinding on jj

MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: f!reader | dirty dancing | jealousy | intoxication.

"That's it, sugar, that's it. Move your hips jus' like that." JJ MAYBANK tells you, rough hands on your hips that guide you in the circles you draw with them. "Gettin' better," he praises, keeping his eyes on your ass in your little shorts. Full of his encouragement and alcohol, you raise your red solo cup above your head as you arch back into him, laying your head against his shoulder. He can tell you're tipsy, all loose with your body as you slowly grin at him.

"I missed you so much, Jayj." you fawn, and JJ reaches over you to pluck your drink from your hand. You don't realize he's taking it from you, instead you're grateful for the free hand, turning so you could sling both arms around his neck. "Such a good teacher." you commend, and lean in, brushing your nose against his. "And so cute too." Him and his backwards cap, and gray wifebeater, were always cute to you. Even his thin beat-up backpack he wears, the straps accentuating his exposed rotator cuffs you just want to claw into. He balances you securing his forearm around your waist, and downs the rest of your drink before tossing the solo cup with the others. Boneyard cleanup'll happen later, right now he's focused on you.

Accidentally, more of your weight gains on him, and he braces his legs to keep you upright, "Easy there, girl, don't wanna get ahead of yourself." You release him to turn back around, and join the chorus of mindless cheers that partygoers chime in unison. He handles the crook of your torso, drawing you to his side. "You doin' okay? How're we feelin'?"

You bounce, shooting both your hands in the air. "I'm having so much fun!" You sway in place, and he takes it upon himself to slot back behind you like before, leaving a couple inches of respectful space in between. As soon as you look forward, you spot a familiar face. RAFE CAMERON uncharacteristically laughs with his friends, a solo cup in his hand while his other is stuffed in his pocket. You hadn't seen him in a while, and you feel a twinge of annoyance at the fact he showed up even if a keg party is open to everyone. Briefly, you entertain the thought he came to see you. The idea unconsciously sews you closer to JJ.

As if he can sense your gaze on him, he scans across the sea of people, landing on you as you're tangled up in one of his mortal enemies. His expression hardens and you conjure a devious plan. You seek out JJ's hands, directing them as you see fit, back on your hips as you press back into him. He grunts softly in your ear as soon as your ass makes contact with his crotch, and you smirk to yourself. Pride swells your chest at the sight of Rafe gripping his cup a little tighter, taking a swig as you roll your body on JJ like a trained dancer, just like he showed you how to. You encourage JJ's roaming hands while you bend your knees, lowering yourself on him as you grind. At first, he'd given you the reigns, but now that he sees you're comfortable, you can feel him getting into it. He's moving in sync with you, and you check back in with Rafe who's ignoring his friend's tapping fingers.

"Fuck, baby, what're you doin' to me?" JJ breathes, and you snicker. Boys are so easy. You can feel him harden behind you, and you get another evil idea. However, your fun is short-lived, because Rafe is walking over right now.

[threeletterslife]

40 | Legends of Darlaria

⨰ summary: You wake up in yet another unfamiliar place. This time, however, these strangers seem to recognize you. With your previous judgments and aspirations thrown out the window, you're now forced to face where your loyalties really lie. Who will you betray? And which General will you choose to stand by his side?

⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15

⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au

⨰ warnings: profanity, descriptions of death, blood and gore

⨰ wordcount: 3.8k

⨰ join the taglist! (pm/send in an ask/reply/reblog)

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⧖⧗Many, Many Circas Ago⧗⧖

The world grew eerily silent when you stepped into your office. What was left of daybreak’s red light filtered into the room, bathing it in a bloody hue. Or perhaps the red reflected from Enyx’s flickering flames, his once flamboyant spirit dimmed as he lay limp in his silver cage on your desk. 

Your knees skidded across the wood until they were bruised before your desk. Your ears were ringing again, in that high-pitched key that you so often heard when the world seemed to stop spinning. The phoenix looked up, his weary eyes meeting yours in a gentle, understanding gaze. 

‘It’s okay,’ he seemed to say. 

“It’s not,” you said, lips quivering. “It’s not okay. You’re dying.”

‘But I am a phoenix. You know I will rise again.’

“I know, I know,” you whispered, voice breaking. “But I just…”

‘Do not worry,’ Enyx seemed to say. His eyes drooped, light smoke trailing from the tips of his feathers. ‘We will meet again.’ Even in his dying moments, Enyx was majestic. Bathed in scarlet light, his fiery plumage flickered like dim candlelight on a breezy night. He looked strangely at peace, though your heart was heavy.

“Yes… We’ll… We’ll meet again.”

The phoenix gently closed his eyes and his feathers erupted in one final beacon of light—deep scarlet and golden flames coiled together in the air, reminding you of the Solarian uniform. The flames soon extinguished in a cloud of gray smoke. They wound around your office, drawing an opaque film over your vision. A dry cough crept up your throat as you waved your hands to clear the smoke. When it finally dissipated, you saw Jungkook, leaning against the wall. You hadn’t heard him come in.

“Hey,” he spoke in a soft voice. He glanced at the gray ashes in the silver birdcage and back at you, hunched against your desk. “I’m sorry.”

“He’ll be reborn,” you said, weakly.

Jungkook hummed. “But that’s not all you’re upset about.” He could always read you so well. “Talk to me,” he said. “It’ll help.”

You pushed your hands up to your face and sighed deeply. “It’s stupid.” You didn’t want to cry, but the tears pooled behind your fingers and dripped down your chin.

“It’s not,” he reassured, crouching to your level. “You’re scared,” he observed. “And Enyx’s death only reminds you of what you’ll see out there.” He was right. “But you’ve trained hard for this moment,” Jungkook said. “Don’t forget that.”

You understood him, for you had spent circas rebuilding your muscles, thawing your dormant agility, dueling and masking and running. Yet, why did you feel ill-prepared? It has been six circas since you’ve been free of the deaths, the violence, the sea of red. Six circas without Hajin, too. You had always fought by her side. 

And now, now another loved one died in your presence. How many more will you have to live through? Hot tears streamed down your face. They stung your cheeks and tasted salty on your tongue. 

“Shh…” Jungkook whispered, placing a warm hand on the small of your back. “You’re overthinking.”

“I-I can’t stop,” you sniffled. “I know I’m overthinking. I know I’m being a coward. I’m overreacting, dammit, but I’m so damn nervous, Jungkook. They’re going to chew me up alive. They’re going to kill our soldiers, and I won’t be able to do anything about it. I won’t be able to save them, just like I couldn’t save Hajin. I’ll be a disgrace to Darlae—just as I have been for the past six circas when I abandoned my own army and pushed all my burdens onto you.”

“Hey, hey,” Jungkook said, pulling you into a tight embrace. “You won’t be a disgrace. No one will chew you up alive. You’ve earned your position with your merit, do you understand?”

“Jungkook, but I…”

“We’re going to win today,” he said, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “I can feel it.” He cupped your cheek in his gentle hands. So don’t you dare worry, he tapped. All right?

You placed a shaking hand on top of his. All right, you tapped back. You wanted to believe him. You really did. But there was a strange, twisting feeling in your gut that you couldn’t ignore. It was the kind of feeling that urged you to stay home, swaddled in the safe confines of your covers. But how cowardly would that be? And besides, you were never a good divinist. Perhaps this gut feeling was only a ruse your mind conjured up in manifestation of your worst fears. Perhaps Jungkook was right and you were wasting your worries.

“Are you ready?” he asked, standing to his feet and outstretching his hand.

You took it as he pulled you up. “Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He nodded. “How’s the speech coming along?”

You twisted your trinket between your fingers. “I’m just about finished, I think.”

“Good. Your soldiers will love it. I’m sure.”

The wooden platform squeaked under your feet. Before you were your army, thousands of soldiers who swore to give their lives to their nation—and you. They looked up at you in awe, with sparkling eyes and brave faces. It took everything in you to meet their gazes, but you longed to look away, to crawl back into your covers. You felt small in the morning light, and as the sunlight rained down on the soldiers, basking them in warmth, you couldn’t help but think this might be some of their last days in this world—the last time some of them would see the sun, feel its glow, see it rise over the horizon. 

Your throat suddenly became parched, and you forced yourself to hold in a cough threatening to escape from your lips. 

Inside your mind, flashed glimpses of the fallen. Hajin, Joonhee, General Son… Your captain and majors, thousands and thousands of unranked soldiers—those you recognized, those you didn’t. Your head began to spin, and you gripped onto the podium for support. But your soldiers needed you, and you had to show them that you were strong, that you were ready to lead them to victory again. This was your first official speech after your disappearance for six circas, after all. 

The sun was blinding you now, and your eyes squinted against the white light. It helped a little, not being able to see your soldiers’ faces. It made it easier to lie.

“My soldiers,” you called out to them in earnest. “I stand before you humbly. I may be bedazzled in medals of honor and validation, and yet even I am not immune to illness. I thank you all for waiting for my recovery. I commend you for fighting in my stead, my courageous soldiers, and I wish I made better haste in my return to health.” The lump in your throat bobbed as you swallowed thickly. “Alas, I have returned to you, stronger than ever, more invigorated than before, and well-prepared to make Darlae proud. But our victories are not without sacrifices. I…” Your breath caught in your throat, your lips aquiver. “I want to take a moment to commemorate the fallen. Let us honor them, let us carry on their legacies as they would have done the same for us. We fight with the weight of those who have fought valiantly before us. When we charge toward the Solarians, we charge for the fallen. They’ve given up their lives for a chance at a warless Darlae, so let us honor their sacrifice and finish what they have so courageously started.”  

Your hands twisted the pendant of your trinket. “When I was a little girl, I wanted to become a hero—I’d read one too many books about them—but the dream carried me through my studies, through my time in the Training Corps, and my service in the army thus far. I used to be quite embarrassed about such a dream of which I thought was too fantastical to come true. As I grew older, I realized there is nothing fantastical about being a hero; they are as ubiquitous as rainfall in the spring. My heroes are those who have uplifted me, supported me, have taught me lessons about the world around me I otherwise would never have gleaned. Some of my heroes are still with me,” you said, glancing at Jungkook from the crowd. “Others are long gone… But it does not matter where my heroes are. The memories I made with them, the stories they’ve told me, their hopes and dreams stay with me. They inspire me to become a hero myself, and I use this inspiration to attempt to change Darlae for the better. So let us remain faithful to our loved ones, our nation, our dreams. If we lose someone dear to us in this war, someone who inspired us to fight, let us make them heroes. Let us honor them today, tonight, for many days and nights until we no longer can. And let us rest in peace when our times come, knowing that once we have become grand sacrifices for Darlae, others will do the same for us. Let us trust our comrades to carry on our legacies when we die—as they trust us to do the same. We can die and still become a hero. 

“So, my dear soldiers, we must not wallow in fear. Instead, be proud that your contributions will go down in the annals of history, and that your sacrifices won’t be without remembrance. I am willing to put my life on the line for a chance at a warless Darlae. My soldiers, are you?”

A loud roar shook the grounds, and for a split second, you swore you saw the heavens tremble along with it. Your soldiers cheered for you, though you weren’t sure if that was the result of pre-battle adrenaline or genuine agreeance to your message. It didn’t matter that you still felt sick to your stomach when you hid it so well. 

“Hey,” Jungkook said. He sat down next to you on a wooden crate, examining your countenance to gauge your thoughts. “It was a great speech.”

“Thanks,” you sighed. “I hope they liked it.”

“They loved it,” he answered. “The reception was overwhelmingly positive.” He paused, cocking his head. “But you’re unhappy.” He was always too good at reading you.

“It’s just…” Another sigh, deeper than the last, left your lips. “It felt like I was lying to them.”

“Hm.”

“It was like I was putting up a strong front while I was in shambles on the inside,” you said. “Is that being dishonest?”

He shook his head. “You were only reassuring them. Nothing wrong with that.” He put a warm hand on your knee. “I won’t tell you not to worry, but I will tell you to internalize what you just told your soldiers. I think you forget sometimes that you’re already a hero, that people die for you. You will never be a disgrace to Darlae, Y/N. You’ve already made history. And yes, those who look up to you will die, but as you’ve said, honor them. You’re allowed to mourn, you’re allowed to grieve, but never let their legacies grow cold.” He squeezed your knee. “In the meantime, I’ll do everything I can to support you. I know your job isn’t easy, but you’ve done so well and will continue to do well. I believe in you.”

Your heart grew warm at his words. You couldn’t help but fling yourself into his arms. His embrace rivaled the passion and glow of a thousand suns. Thank you, you tapped into his shoulder.

Of course, he responded back. Let’s go now. Your army is waiting.

The march to the battlefield was a blur. The morning air was crisp and smarting against your cheeks, and you attempted to distract yourself by watching your breaths float past your lips in gray wisps and disperse into the sunlight. But it wasn’t enough to chase away the heavy feeling in your stomach. That feeling, it seemed, would never go away, no matter Jungkook’s kind words or your soldiers’ reverence. It was the feeling brought upon by the imminence of death—not only yours but also your comrades and loved ones. This gut-wrenching feeling would not disappear for a long time, not at least until the war was over. Yet, how much longer could you handle this? You never thought you were immortal—some of your soldiers do, it’s a survival tactic or instinct, perhaps, that they deploy to fare against the glaring finiteness of their life on the battlefield. Death has always scared you. No, the pain that death can bring. What did Hajin feel when the ring pierced through her head? Did she even feel it? Or was she dead right away? Did she get to savor her last thought? Did she think, as she was falling to the ground, I don’t want to die? Or was she distracting herself from the pain by dreaming of exploring the Blackwoods with a week’s supply of devilled eggs? But perhaps she did not feel much, taking a bullet to the head. But those who do, the soldiers who cry out in agony as they bleed out in the mud spilled with guts and tears, how do they bear it? Do they beg others to put them out of their mercy? If someone begged you to do so, could you do it? Look them in the eyes and watch the light in them fade from your doing? Would you ever beg someone to take your life when the pain is too much? Will that someone be Jungkook? Or will you suffer in silence? 

Being in a war made your mortality almost tangible. You could taste death in the air. It lingered on your clothes, in your hair, your mind as well. You could never escape it. And worst of all, every death felt like your fault. You were responsible for each life on the line for it was your formations and your command that these soldiers so vehemently followed. No matter what anyone said, you were responsible for Hajin. And you would also be responsible for anyone who died today on the battlefield. 

By the time the whirlwind of your thoughts ceased, you were standing on the battleground. Your army was behind you, your lover right next to you and your enemy in the front—a familiar composition—but you couldn’t remember how you got here. The sun was higher up in the sky now, brighter too, and the brightness obscured your line of vision on the Solarians. From across the land, they looked like fire in their burning red uniforms. It reminded you of Enyx’s flames. The Solarian General was there, leading his army, though as usual, you couldn’t make out his face, which was for the better. It was always better if you never looked them in the eyes. 

The ringing in your ears came back. You were frozen in place, watching the sea of red before you. Suddenly, your breaths quickened as if you were losing air. Your hands began to tremble in anticipation. You watched the Solarian General raise his arm and a roaring red flame shoot from his fingertips. You were breathless now.

“Y/N,” an urgent voice called your name, a voice you recognize and love. 

Right. Right. You must signal back. That would begin the subsequent onslaught of innocent soldiers on both sides. With trembling hands, you reached down to pick up a small pebble. You felt it between your fingers, savoring its cool smoothness. You hesitated. Were you ready for this? But it didn’t matter if you were. Your soldiers were ready, and they were out for blood. Your nation was counting on you. So, you tossed the pebble in the air, masking it into a purple streak of smoke. Red and violet splashed in the sky. 

People began to run. You ran too. Your arms were moving on their own, throwing out charms and dodging fire from every which way. Your legs moved, putting one after the other, but you couldn’t seem to register the movement in your head. Your mind felt foggy. How long have you been doing this? Has it been hours? Your legs are aching. Was the training enough? Will it be over soon? Are you losing focus?

Suddenly the stench of blood hit your nose, along with the insufferable smell of smoke and fire. You clutched your trinket. You’ve been on this battlefield many times, but today, it felt like you wandered onto it for the first time. There was a ringing in your ears that masked the cries of pain, the slashes and the crackling of burning bodies. But that didn’t block your vision. It was all so overwhelming. Your legs slowly ceased to carry you forward.

Your limbs felt weak. Another body thudded on the ground next to you. Shivers crawled up your spine. How many more would this place kill? How many more friends and loved ones would it steal away from you? How could you ever uphold all of their legacies? How could you ever give them the justice that they deserved? You couldn’t. You simply couldn’t. How does fighting in a battle that killed your soldiers honor them? How does it help to continue the cycle of violence and war and death and blood? How was that heroic? You asked your soldiers time and time again to give their lives for the war, but why? Those bright-eyed and eager Darlaeans, why did they waste their lives away, training for death? For Darlae? The same nation that shipped them out for them to burn alive in the mud? A warless Darlae? Impossible. This nation thrived off of war. So much so that it killed its own royalty. Hajin’s face flashed in your mind.

You were afraid. You were so afraid. 

You couldn’t stop the treasonous thoughts flying through your head. It was hard to breathe. The world around you was so loud but you only heard silence. The great Darlaean General, reduced to a hyperventilating mess.

It should’ve been Jungkook. It should’ve always been him.

Something hit your head. Hard.

You were falling. There was no time to stop yourself. A sharp pain shot through your head. There was an ear-splitting thump.

Everything hurt. Blood rushed to your brain, but it wasn’t helping you think.

Your body twitched in pain. 

It was happening. Your death was imminent.

And you deserved this, didn’t you? You committed treason in your mind already, was there any going back? 

Death wasn’t so scary anymore. There was pain, but it was faint, as if it was floating above you, smothering, but not quite suffocating. Your mind was grasping for thoughts, begging for sustenance before it faded from existence. Any minute now, a delighted Solarian would kill you and be honored for the rest of their life for ridding the Darlaeans of their general. But you didn’t deserve that title. You didn’t for circas. 

Jungkook. He should have been the General. And he would be now. You couldn’t imagine how he would feel. Happy? No, he surely couldn’t be. He exchanged you for the title. But then again, you were only another pawn in the army. He would move on, albeit be sad. The thought broke you.

I believe in you, he had said. How could you fail him? After all that he’s done for you? You loved him. You loved him so much that it felt like two hands were wringing your heart when you thought of him.

You were ready to die. You could close your eyes now and drift off to dreamland for all of eternity. And yet, your body slowly, desperately began to crawl forward. You didn’t know where you were going. You couldn’t see. Yet, you groveled on. I believe in you. To do what? To be a good leader? A wonderful lover? A hero? To live?

Your arms pleaded at you to stop. Your legs felt numb, but you persisted. Why? Why did you have such a growing, instinctual response to live? 

Something warm and wet rolled from your head, down to your lips. It tasted like iron. You felt yourself dip in and out of consciousness. 

If you died, would he bring your body back?

You couldn’t bear to know.

So you had to live.

Hot tears spilled from your eyes, and you no longer had the strength to clear them away with your muddy hands. 

Then, you heard voices. People. You were saved.

They came closer and closer until your vision bled red. Solarians. They were coming toward you. No. No. You would rather die on the battlefield than be taken and tortured and held hostage for years until you begged and sobbed for mercy.

Your head felt as if it was splitting open. Vomit poured out of your throat. 

If they didn’t notice you before, they did now. 

You couldn’t die like this. You were only human, though they wouldn’t see you that way. Their deep scarlet uniforms grew closer and closer. The gold ribbons around their waist fluttered with the wind, and mud stained the soft material of the uniforms—cotton, it had to be. How different their uniform was from the rigid, black fabric the Darlaean uniform consisted of. How much more freeing. It was blood red, but it was almost beautiful. It flowed like the natural passage of time, like a bubbling brook down a tall hill. It felt like freedom.

You were floating. In your mind, you were up in the clouds, basking in the warm sunlight. How would their uniform feel against your skin? Would it be as soft and flowy as it looked? You imagined it would feel like being wrapped in soft clouds and colored by the warmth of sunshine. You imagined yourself donning the uniform, wrapping the golden ribbon snugly around your waist, looping it in an elegant knot. It felt so real, the fabric, the gentle cinch to your waist from the ties, the delicate sleeves and supple boots. No longer did you feel constrained in the Darlaean uniform. Instead, you were walking amongst the clouds, painting the sky in red.

How stupid this war was, dividing two nations by fashion, forcing them to wear clothes that announced their alliances. 

How stupid it all was…

You were fading.

“Hey! She’s still alive!”

The voices and yelling sounded far away as if you were in a dream. The pain wasn’t all so bad either. There was no panic, only peace. Quietly, gently, you floated into the sky, and you hoped, if you were lucky, that you would land somewhere amongst the clouds.

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⨰ a/n: the long-awaited chapter is now here! so sorry it took so long :') and now, the flashback is officially over!!! (finally LOL)

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[sweetbillwriting]

In The Dead of Night

SEVEN

Characters: AU Eric played by Bill Skarsgård from The Crow (2024)

Setting: This story is set in A WHOLE OTHER WORLD than the movie. Shelley isn't a part of this story. Eric will be different from the movie, especially because I haven't seen the movie.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

×

“Are you looking at my stuff?” 

I jumped, startled when I heard Eric speaking from the bed. I still stood with his sketchbook in my hand and looked at the drawing of the girl in the fountain. I looked back at Eric, who sat up in bed, showing his naked, tattooed chest with the sheet pooling around his hips. 

“I'm sorry…” I said bashfully and tried to put things in order again. “I'm too nosy, I know; it has always been a problem for me…” 

“It's okay. I don't have any secrets. It just surprised me.” 

I walked slowly to the bed and crawled up at him. He took me off guard when he pulled me up in his lap. I had walked around just in panties but had started to get used to the idea that Eric could control himself better than other men could. I took that back when he pinched a nipple and smirked at me. I could never say where I had him, but I wanted him close, so I didn't comment on his behavior; I just giggled teasingly when he continued to play with my tits. 

“Your tits are so perfect…” Said he lowly and pinched my nipples so hard it hurt a bit, but I could also feel a tingling trickle down to my pussy. I thought about his drawing but also the complement he had given me in my dreams. He really had a thing for my breasts. 

“You're a great artist… A great erotic artist,” I said and straddled his hips. Eric smirked, a little embarrassed. 

“Sexually frustrated art.”

I laughed but didn't forget about the important thing. 

“Even the girl in the fountain? Looks like something from real life.” 

He looked at me with furrowed brows and scratched his jaw where I could see some stubble. 

“It's a long story…” he lowered his eyes but dragged his hands over my thighs. “She's not real. It's not a real woman.” He added when he saw my curious expression. I didn't know what to say, and the minute I was quiet, Eric's mood changed again, and he pushed me away. He stood up and pulled on a pair of gray sweats. I looked at him disappointed but decided not to give up, so I stood up in bed just in front of him still in just my panties and took his hand so I could pull him close. 

“I don't need you as a boyfriend, but must you run away? I know you want this, and I want this. Can we just… Have some fun with it?” I said it while playing with the elastic of his sweatpants. He looked between my eyes and nipples like they were my other pair of eyes. I dragged my hands over the front of his sweatpants, and I could feel him grow under the fabric, and when I lowered myself to my knees to pull the sweatpants down along with the red boxers, he didn't protest. His cock bounced out like it had waited months for this moment, and I stared at it long and hard. Long and hard. Thick and blushed. For a moment, the man attached to the cock wasn't there. I was pleased with just the part in front of me, and with greedy hands and mouth I took him all in without a warning. Eric made a surprised sound, but it turned to a deep moan, and soon I had his big hands on my neck, pushing me deeper. 

“There you go… Finally you get my cock,” he said and made a little laugh. “You have waited so long…” 

I released his cock but continued to jerk his wet length with strained breathing. I wanted his cock, but it was a job to suck his full length. I was surprised by his mocking tone, but when I looked up at him, he looked sweetly at me. He was playing a game, just like he had done in my dreamland. 

“I've seen it in your eyes since the first night—how much you want my cock.” 

“Yeah…” I said out of breath and licked it from root to tip. “It's so pretty too.” I licked again. “And so big.” 

“But it's yours now… Now when you pay.” 

Was that the game? Oh, okay. He hadn't warned me in dreamland about what kind of game he wanted to play, but now he wanted to be my whore. That was new. 

“And so much that I paid, I expect to get everything from you. Everything.” I said it with a dominant voice and then licked his balls, moaning, like it was me who got the biggest reward. 

“I'm all yours…” He said and took his length in his hand so he could jerk off while I sucked his balls. 

“I want you inside of me…” I said pleadingly, took off my panties and laid my cheek on his hairy thigh. Eric continued to play with his cock a while, but then he leaned down and pulled me up over him with two hands in my armpits. I felt so powerless but also free in his grip, so when he pushed me down with spread legs, I made a loud, aroused sound and pushed my wet pussy against him so it was open for him to just push in. 

×××

On my way home to my own town, the questions were wild in my head. I was probably not focused enough to drive, but I did it anyway. 

The sex was Eric had been overwhelming—so overwhelming I had cried in the bathroom after. Eric. My Eric. He did the same thing as in dreamland, and then there was the sketch. It was really the real Eric, but so much made him different. A dead person can't be an addict. A dead person doesn't care to keep secrets. A dead person can't be afraid to be hurt. 

He was an addict. And I had slept with him without a condom. I didn't dare ask him if he had tested himself because it would sound so judgmental. It was obvious Eric was a sensitive soul, and if I asked such a thing, he would probably take it like I was disgusted by who he once had been. Who he still was. He had said himself he still thought about drugs all the time. A dead man couldn't be an addict. I wished everything was as simple as in my dreams. I got a bad conscience every time I thought about it because that also meant Eric would be dead. It was so confusing. I needed answers. 

A few days later I got an answer. I didn't have any STDs. But I also received a question. 

“I'm open to trying this dating thing if you want, but I suck at it. Do you want to go on a date with me?” 

××× 

2 months later… 

I put the skirt with pink roses in the plastic bag in front of me. It would finally move in with me, from Lotti. Next to me stood Robin looking through his mother's jewelry, probably to see if there was anything valuable. Lotti had become tired of watching my little runway show and was sitting in an armchair looking at us.

“Robin told me you have a boyfriend… Who is it?” 

Lotti looked at me with curiosity, and Robin smirked teasingly when I looked at him. Me and Eric had become a couple two weeks ago, and stupidly enough, I had told Desiree that me and my mystery guy were a couple, and she told the whole salon, including Robin. 

I did everything in my power to cover up my bad conscience with a smile. I didn't want to go to Lotti’s because I didn't want to lie to her, but she had asked Robin several times for me, so I felt forced; even if I was hiding, I was together with the son she thought was dead. 

“I don't really like to talk about it; it feels a little early…” I said and looked down in the plastic bag. 

“Okay,” said Lotti kindly, a tone I recognized from her younger son. 

“I think he must be ugly if she is so quiet,” joked Robin and Lotti looked at him unamused. 

“Don't say such things, Robin; she obviously likes this guy.” 

I gave her a small smile but then looked at the picture of Eric on her wall. He looked more mature in reality, also much buffer. 

“Is it Eric you’re looking at?” Asked Lotti which made Robin look at me then the picture. “You asked quite many questions.” 

I looked at Robin who crossed his arms. Maybe he was afraid I would say something about Eric being alive. 

Lotti giggled a little. 

“Robin, you don't need to be jealous that your girlfriend thinks Eric is handsome. It doesn't matter now.” 

Robin sighed. 

“She isn't my girlfriend.” Lotti didn't even seem to react to what Robin said. Instead, she just looked at me amused. 

“It was always so much of a competition between them. They were so different, still there was so much competition.” 

“We didn't compete, mom.” 

“Robin didn't even like Judo, but was so mad he wrote ‘IDIOT’ on Eric's wall when he got a higher ranking than him. Eric was eleven.” 

That meant Robin was thirteen. I looked at Robin, who bit his jaw together hard, and looked through the window. 

“Robin had such high grades and succeeded with so much, while Eric struggled with his attention disorder and anxiety. It was silly,” said Lotti and looked at her son, who looked like a sour kid again. I could see he hadn't let it go, that this still was something that bothered him, while Lotti more or less laughed at his behavior. 

“Robin had many female friends, maybe some were girlfriends-” 

“They were not girlfriends, mom.” 

“But they really liked Eric. I guess those eyes and the shyness warmed many women's hearts, and it continued later on, but Eric was so shy…” 

Robin groaned loudly, then laughed unamused. 

“Here we go again..! Mom, I think you need to rest, right?” He said, irritated. I didn't dare say anything, but the situation made me uncomfortable in so many ways that I just wanted to run, even if it felt like I got answers to many things. 

“Really?” Said Lotti who looked at Robin, disappointed. She was probably used to people saying that she needed to rest so she didn't refuse it any longer. 

“Yeah, you need to rest,” said Robin harshly, then pushed the button so the staff would come. I looked at him with big eyes. It was awful seeing him treat his mom like that, and because of my lying, it felt like I was a part of it. Lotti just wanted to remember her son—a son she thought was dead. 

××× 

My purple couch was quite new and really comfortable, but still I missed Eric's. He had never bought new covers because he couldn't afford it but lied to spare my feelings. When he finally told me the truth, I had bought him new ones so his green couch had become black. It was old with unshapely cushions, but I missed sitting cramped with him in it, watching horror and dragging my fingers over his tattooed arms. But now I sat with Robin on my couch with Odin between us. Both of them were awkwardly quiet. Robin, because he didn't want to answer my question. Odin, probably because he missed Eric just as much as I did. 

“You must talk about it to get over it. It's obvious you have some sort of problem with Eric,” I said. I felt evil for meddling in their business, but I was too curious, as always, and it was also so easy for me to get to know everything in the messy story when I had two different sources. 

Robin gave me a glance, then took a sip of his coffee. 

“You will just be like mom. You will not get it.” 

“Try me.” 

Robin looked at Odin, who whined, and jumped down from the couch. I wondered if he understood we would talk about his favorite person. 

“He came to us when he was two and… He just became a bigger part of our family every year. It's hard to explain, but he has always been really manipulative. I think he's a bit of a psychopath.”

“Really?” I tried to sound as neutral as I could, even when he accused my boyfriend of having an antisocial personality disorder. It was so silly because Eric really was the most empathic guy I had met with anxiety from everything about how people looked at him to death. He had mental health problems, but it was the opposite of psychopathy. 

“He knew exactly how to act to get my parents on his side and… They forgot me. It was always about his martial arts, his drawings, and how sensitive and cute he was, and he needed so much help with psychologists and in school and social service… They just forgot me.” Robin looked really sad and pulled his legs in front of himself. 

“When I came out as gay, it didn't make things better. It was so much about him and his girlfriend while I was just the gay son.” 

He dragged his thumb under his eye to wipe away a tear.

“I'm really sorry, Robin… But can you blame a child for all this? Eric was just a kid.” I said it carefully to not upset him too much. He looked away and let new tears slip down his cheeks. 

“Maybe not, but it's hard to forgive and forget anyway. He started to take all kinds of drugs, but he was still the favorite son. He wasn't even their real son. I had good grades, I was healthy and responsible but gay. He lied, stole from them, embarrassed them, and hurt them, but they acted like he was the golden son. I will never understand why…” 

I sat quietly because, if I was honest, I could see what Robin meant. Robin had done everything right while Eric had been drama from day one. And Robin was their real son. 

I looked down at my phone, where Eric's pouting lips, with my smeared black lipstick, were my background. It warmed my chest just looking at the picture. Even if I understood Robin, I could also see what he couldn't. Eric was a fantastic person. He was the sweetest guy and cared for everyone. He had a way about him that made you want to take care of him and a sadness in his eyes that made you want to do everything to make him happy. I couldn't tell Robin this because then I also needed to tell him what I've done behind his back. Eric and I’s  relationship was too young to handle that sort of drama, and I would save that for another day. 

Both Robin and I sat in silence, thinking about what he had told me. There were a lot of things that made me look at his and Lotti's relationship differently. I could see why he didn't visit her so much and why he could be quite insensitive. He was hurt. 

“Do you also think Odin acts differently? And listen better?” Robin asked while looking at Odin, who sat awkwardly in his bed in the corner of the room. I looked at Odin, who gave me an expectant look. He had seen me pack my bag to go to Eric's, but also his things in a cotton bag. Like the leash so he and Eric could go out running together. He had a whole life behind Robin's back. 

“Yeah, I guess he's getting older,” I said with a shoulder shrug. Odin whined loudly and looked at me with his ears pulled up high on his head. If we were alone, I would have told him we would soon go to his Daddy, but I couldn't say that when his Papa sat in the same room. 

××× 

I still had my parents' car, and no one said anything about it because everyone knew I had a secret boyfriend in Demi’s hometown. She was the only one who knew more about Eric, the little I've told her in the beginning, but she didn't tell anyone that. She probably understood that I needed time to process his addiction. She had expressed worry several times, but I pushed it away because she had no experience with addicts and believed it was a sign of what kind of person they were, but I was grateful she didn't meddle any more than that. Even my oldest sister could see I was old enough to make my own decision. 

The question was who was the most happy to see Eric—me or Odin. Odin never jumped around Eric; he knew his place and just pushed himself close to his legs and looked up at him with big eyes. After just a few pats, he laid down on his back, begging for belly rubs. He was such a Daddy's boy. Both me and Eric laughed at him but then ignored him to be able to say hello to each other. We kissed several times in that soft way we liked, and I dragged my hands down over the soft, dark purple t-shirt he wore. It had holes in the collar which I dragged my fingertips over. 

“How are you, baby?” I said and played with the longer strands of hair that covered the nape of his neck. He hugged my hips and smiled a little. He pulled me to the couch so I could straddle his lap and have an easier time reaching his lips. He kissed me again a few times and smiled lovingly towards me. 

“How are you?” He asked, and I gave him a strict look. 

“No, I asked you. Hm? How is it with my puppy?” I asked and laid my hands on his cheeks. I knew I babied him a lot, but he didn't say anything about it. I guessed he liked it. I was just a bit worried for him, all the time. His anxiety could go through the roof sometimes. 

“I'm okay.” He pulled me closer and kissed me more passionately. I giggled when he pushed himself against my ear to whine like a puppy in my ear. 

“Does the puppy want to play?” My giggling never ceased while I patted his belly. He first looked at me with big, playful eyes, but I could see them becoming darker with every second. His eyes were so telling, then he pushed me down on the couch and humped my thigh like a puppy could do. I feigned a gasp but pressed my thigh against his crotch so his cock still was pushed against me. 

“Bad puppy!” 

Eric smiled big and excited and panted like a dog. He dove his nose down to my neck and licked and kissed the skin and nibbled my ear. I loved when he did that, so instead of telling him to stop, I moaned. He made a small bark, and I giggled again. I could feel he was excited in his black cargo pants, and that was often when he stopped his playtime. He did that even now, just helping me out of my clothes so he could then push into me. It was always hard to have sex on the small couch, and awkwardly I stood on all fours while Eric stood with one foot on the floor and one knee in the couch to be able to really pound me. I had gotten used to his size but also his need for closeness. He couldn't handle being all rough for long before he needed to be close and feel loved. He really was a puppy, and his favorite position was just to lay over me and give me such deep strokes I could feel him up in my belly. He sucked my tits so much they could be sore when I left him. I knew my sister's breasts had gotten like that when she breastfed her kids, but I had never heard of it in a couples relationship. But Eric wasn't like other men. He didn't need to be strong and tough with me, even if his body was just that, he just wanted to be loved. 

××× 

I looked at the big piece of beef laying on the counter. It had a fine pattern of fat through it, like marmoreal. It was obviously a fine grade of meat, and Eric looked pleased while I looked at it. He tried to put together a mincer. His cooking skills were limited, but surprisingly, he had taught himself to make tartare from scratch. It was his favorite dish, but he could rarely afford to go out to eat it, so when he found a cheap mincer secondhand, he decided to learn to make the perfect tartare. 

I had brought some good red wine my father had recommended. He looked impressed when I told him my boyfriend would make tartare for me, but something told me he wouldn't be as impressed if he saw Eric's tattooed face and trashed t-shirt. Eric wasn't like Dante. 

Eric took a big sip from his wine glass while mincing the meat. This time I had decided on the music, and Lana Del Rey sang from the speaker. I looked at Eric from the floor. He didn't have any chairs, so I sat on a pillow in the opening to the kitchen, and sometimes he leaned down to kiss my wine-stained lips. I felt young with him, but I had a hard time saying if it was just a positive feeling.

“Crow was here yesterday,” said Eric while chopping an onion finely. “Maybe to warn that there will be bad weather soon.”

“Does he do that?” I asked with furrowed brows. 

“It feels like it.” Eric shrugged his shoulders. “Bad weather, depression, darkness… All of them are really the same.” I looked at Eric with big eyes, then at Odin lying on the kitchen floor, so Eric needed to jump over him. Crow meant a lot for Eric, but he had never really talked about why. 

“I want to meet him. He has been hiding from me.” 

Eric smirked a little.

“He was here when you were here.” 

“When I was sleeping!” 

“He's shy!” 

I gave Eric a pointed look and took a big sip of my wine. 

“Or he hates me because he thinks you're his boyfriend!” 

He laughed and looked at me with a pouting lower lip. 

“Aw, are you jealous of a bird?” 

“Yes! He has known you for five years. I want to know you so well too.” 

Eric smiled and looked down at the onion again. He looked a bit uncomfortable. It was the secrets again. All that he didn't want to tell me. 

It was a bit of an uncomfortable silence between us, but it ended when Demi called and I felt forced to answer. She liked to know when I was in her town so she could use me as a babysitter. She didn't know I would say no this time. It was Eric's first free weekend for us, and I would use all the time to be with him. 

“But the girls would love to just take a walk with Odin and a hot chocolate somewhere! It’s been a long time since you’ve had time for them now!” She tried to use my bad conscience, but I couldn't feel it when Eric stood with his t-shirt pulled up, using it as a towel to his hands. I took a deep breath while watching those sharp lines crawl down in the low-raised pants. If he stretched, I would see his pubic hair. 

“Hello? Are you even listening?”

“Sorry, we're making tartare.” 

“Tartare, nice.” 

“Yeah, we’re opening wine bottle number two soon, so we-”

“He drinks?” 

“Yeah?” I looked at Eric again, filling up his glass with a smile towards me. 

“But he's an addict?” 

I could feel a pain in my stomach. I knew what she was going to say, but I didn't want to think about it. And I didn’t want to hear it from her.

“Not alcohol…” I said lowly and hoped Eric wouldn't get what we talked about. 

“You know as well as me that someone who is completely sober doesn't drink alcohol.” Demi sounded upset, and it made the pain in my stomach worsen. I stood up a bit clumsily from the floor and walked to the bathroom so I could talk with her freely. 

“He has never had a problem with alcohol.” 

“What did he take then?” 

I didn't want to say what because she would force me to leave his apartment at once.

“Morphine.” 

“So he's one of the “backbenders” standing by the street corner kitchen? Fucking leave now!” She said even more upset. 

“No! Eric doesn't take anything anymore!” 

“He drinks! It's just the start. Does he take anything else?” 

I was quiet. He smoked weed. I didn't know how often but knew it was at least once a week. Demi sighed deeply; she could read my silence. 

“Marijuana?” 

I was still quiet and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. It had several stickers from clubs on it. I took a deep breath to not cry. She was right. If he was sober for real, he would stop with everything. 

“Are you sure he has stopped taking drugs? I mean, morphine? Or started with something else?” She said that softer. I continued to be quiet until I started to sob in her ear. 

××× 

I tried to mask my feelings all night, but it was hard because Eric was so sensitive to energies and could read every expression on my face. He asked me several times if there was something, but I denied it and kissed his soft lips over and over. When we sat on the couch, I could see that I had infected him with my feelings, and he couldn't relax. He was anxious. I didn't want to be the person making him feel that way, especially not if he still took something. Would he take something as soon as I looked away? Did he have a stash? 

When he walked away to the bathroom, I looked around worriedly, but then I started to search. He said he didn't have any secrets, but that could just be a thing he said to make me trust him. I didn't really know what I expected to find. Pills? Needles? I looked through the drawers in the kitchen. The weirdest things I found were a chapstick with raspberry taste and a postcard of a sea lion. 

“Are you looking for something?” 

I turned around and looked at Eric standing with his hands in his t-shirt, then at Odin lying in the bed. He didn't give me any warning. Stupid dog. 

“Ehh… A wine opener? For the next bottle?” 

“But we just opened a bottle?” 

“Oh, yeah, but I was feeling up for something else.” Eric looked at me confused but also a bit worried when he walked into the small kitchen and then gave me the opener lying on the counter. 

“Oh,” I faked an embarrassed giggle. “There it was.” 

Eric smiled a little and started to play with the edge of his t-shirt again. 

“Is it something?” He asked for the fifth time that night, and I shook my head with a smile again, stood up on my toes, and kissed him. 

“It's nothing. I think my period is on its way. I can get a bit weird then.” 

Eric nodded and sat down on the couch again, and I crawled close to him. 

“Didn't you want the other wine?” He asked. I didn't bring either the bottle or the wine opener. 

“Eh, I can wait.” I smiled sweetly and turned my eyes to the TV and resumed the horror movie again.

××× 

I noticed Eric wanted to have sex again when he had made us ready for sleep. He crawled close and kissed my neck, but I could just see inner pictures of him putting needles in his arms. I hugged him close, and he tried to make it sexual but didn't succeed because I pretended to fall asleep. He sighed, dragging just his hand over my hair and carefully pulled me away to lay me next to him comfortably. He put on the radio and laid down. I looked at him sneakily and saw him lay on his back, breathing deeply. I could feel his anxiety, and even if I had my own anxiety, I could feel his even more. It was what Eric did to you; he was way too precious to not care about a bit more than everyone else, including yourself. 

I pretended to crawl close to him in my sleep, and he took me in his strong arms. I hated that I couldn't trust him. 

I woke up a few hours later. Eric spooned me, and his soft snoring outvoted the radio. Carefully, I broke free from his grip so I could walk to the bathroom. I didn't go there to pee but to look through the cabinet. He had a little set of Kiehl's skincare, two expensive perfumes (Versace and Dior), a bit too well-used orange toothbrush, Colgate toothpaste, and a vegan deodorant of a brand I never heard of. Shaving products and three different hairstyling products from L'Oreal I suspected he rarely used. His hair was in its natural state when I was with him. Without the color, then. Otherwise, There wasn't anything else. His bathroom was quite empty, and the various stickers put up on the mirror and wall were the only interesting things there. I breathed out of relief, even if I wasn't totally sure he didn't have drugs anywhere else, but the risk felt smaller. I walked out of the bedroom, prepared to cuddle into Eric's big embrace, but a cold wind distracted me, so I didn't even notice that the bed was empty. Instead, I looked towards the big window. The sight was magical and mysterious, and for a moment I wondered if I were back in my dreamland. In the open window sat Eric with a big bird perched on his hand. Both of them were just lit up by the street light far away and the full moon. Eric sat just in black boxers, and the light from the moon reflected on his pale skin and made every tattoo sharper. He turned his eyes towards me. His facial features were so sharp he looked like death but with eyes enchantingly green. My dream man. I didn't care what his baggage was because he was a man made of midnight and magic. 

“Hey," he said softly to me, to not scare the bird. “This is my Crow.” 

I walked up to them slowly. Eric put down the bird on his knee, and I could see its long claws scratch his skin. 

The bird laid his head to the side and looked at me skeptically, like he thought I was a lesser creature than Eric, and maybe I was. 

“You know, he has saved my life.” 

I giggled a little, believing it was just an expression, but Eric looked at me seriously. “Really, I have been in two quite… Stupid accidents, and I'm sure he was the one saving me.” I looked at Eric's big eyes and then at the bird again. 

“When?”

“One was just six months ago or so. I was so close to death…” 

I looked at him patting the bird's wing. He did it meditationally and sweetly. He looked up, probably feeling something was going on, and then pulled me closer to his body while I let my tears fall. 

My dream man. My Eric. 

×

[whygalaxy]

hey!! first of all i hope you’re doing better, i actually do miss your fics and i was wondering if you could write something about elquackity with a cat hybrid s/o when you come back, please?? 🩷

Meow Meow

♡⃕ Relationship} El!Quackity x Cat Hybrid! Fem! Reader

♡⃕ Summary} "ElQuackity finds you in the middle of the forest and decides to adopt you. After all, he always wanted a kitten"

♡⃕ Notes} English is not my first language, there may be mistakes. I'm sorry for anything. Sorry if this fanfic is bad, I tried as hard as I could. This is for you anon who asked 3 times!

ElQuackity was walking through the forest, having just completed a foundation mission. It was calm, the sun almost setting, until he heard a bush stirring next to him.

He quickly draws his axe, ready to attack whoever it was. He approaches, curious to see who it was. And to his surprise… He comes across a little cat hybrid?…

His eyes widen, lowering the gun, when he sees you wearing nothing but a dirty shirt. Your ankle was bruised, blood was coming out.

He could feel his heart sink, you were so cute… He always wanted a kitten for himself, after all, all the villains had a cat.

“Hey gatito…” He whispers in a gentle voice, crouching down to your height. He approaches slowly, not wanting to scare you.

You try to step back but your injured ankle prevents you from doing so, you whimper in pain. He approaches, I reach out to caress his head and chin, you growl, trying to push him away, but he isn't scared.

As soon as he starts stroking your head and chin, you snuggle against his hand, purring. ElQuackity couldn't believe it, you were purring! For him! It was one of the most adorable things he had ever seen!

He picks you up, deciding to take you to his house. For you to be his pet.

₊˚⊹♡ ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

The first thing he did when he got home was take you to the bathroom to give you a bath. He filled the bathtub with warm water, and began to take off his clothes. As soon as he picked you up to put you in the bathtub, you started trying to escape, scratching his arms and his face.

“Ei gatito! Ei! He screams in pain, trying to protest, but you didn't hear him, you still continued to scratch him. He finally managed to throw you into the bathtub, and started bathing you.

₊˚⊹♡ ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

When he was done, he dried you off and took you to his room. Placing you on the bed and handing you a blue sweater that was too big for you. He takes a medical kit and places it on the bed next to you, ready to tend to your injury.

You look guiltily at his arm and face full of scratches. “I’m sorry…” You say shyly, he doesn’t look at you, starting to bandage your injured ankle. “It’s okay, cats don’t like water…. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Once he finishes bandaging your ankle, he smiles. He turns to look at you, starting to stroke your chin, you purred happily.

“So… you didn’t tell me your name…” He says. Does he realize how stupid it was, he brought you to his house without knowing your name? You look at him with half-closed eyes. “I don’t have a name…” you say slightly sadly, looking away.

He seemed surprised, don't you have a name?… He could give you one then. “How about… {Reader’s Name}” He says after thinking for a bit. You smile at the name, you liked it, so beautiful! "I liked!" You say, smiling. And he smiles too.

₊˚⊹♡ ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

He takes you to the kitchen, to feed you too. He places you in the chair, heading to the kitchen, but quickly returning with a plate of cooked fish in one hand and a glass of hot milk in the other. He places it in front of you, letting you eat in peace. You looked hungry as you ate everything quickly.

"It is delicious!" You say with a smile, and he smiles too. He turns to look at the window, seeing that it is already night. “It's late, we should sleep…” He says, taking the glass and plate and taking it to the kitchen. He comes back, taking your hand and leading you to his room.

He changes into a gray blouse and white boxer shorts with red hearts. You cover your face, not wanting to see this scene.

He lies down on the bed, patting his side. “Lay down next to me.” You look at him blushing, eyes wide. “Do you… want me to sleep with you?” You stutter, embarrassed at the thought, but you didn't think it was a bad idea.

He didn't say anything, just waited for her reaction. You let out a sigh, walking over to him. You lay down next to him, very close to him. He takes the blanket and covers you both, hugging you while placing his chin on your head.

“Good night, mi gatita…” he says, starting to sleep. You blush, snuggling against his chest. No one has ever been so kind to you… You sleep with a smile on your face, feeling loved.

∧,,,∧ ~ ┏━━━━━━━━┓ ( ̳• · • ̳) ~ ♡ You’re purrfect ♡ / づ ~ ┗━━━━━━━━┛

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 22: This Misery We've Made

Summary: As Tommy and Lizzie's wedding day draws near, Lucy battles doubts and insecurities about their arrangement.

Word Count: 6,221

Warnings: Smut.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 2: Say We'll Be Okay

When Polly walked unexpectedly through the door, Lucy briefly panicked, thinking that she’d forgotten about a meeting Tommy was supposed to have with his aunt and accidentally double booked him. But one quick glance at the diary on her desk proved that not to be the case. She frowned a little, a pulse of trepidation finding its way into her throat. Polly looked every bit like royalty, dressed in a lavish, deep purple coat embellished by a fur collar over an equally expensive blouse and skirt, a wide brimmed hat atop her head. She was growing her hair out from the short style she’d worn it in during the vendetta, the dark curls styled neatly around her chin. 

“Polly,” Lucy greeted, sitting up straight. “Tommy’s in a meeting right now–” 

“Actually, I’m here to see you.”

Lucy blinked, the uneasiness within her growing even more pronounced. She always got nervous when talking with Polly without Tommy present to serve as a buffer between them. 

Polly’s dark eyes darted to where Adam was seated at the second desk in the office near the back.

“Adam,” Lucy said, getting the kid’s attention, “why don’t you take your lunch break a little early, today?”

He looked up from the speech he’d been editing, noticed Polly and the clear tension between them, and hastily put down his pen. “Are you sure, Lucy?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Go on.”

He got up and collected his hat and coat from the hooks by the wall, offering Polly a respectful nod and a soft “Mrs. Gray,” when he walked past her. 

“He seems to be settling in well,” Polly remarked, sliding off her gloves.

“Yeah. He’s a good kid. What do you need?” Capping her pen, Lucy folded her hands in front of her on top of the papers she’d been looking over before Polly came in. 

Removing her hat, Polly slid into one of the leather chairs across from her, meticulously crossing one leg over the other and laying her hat in her lap.

“Lizzie told me about the conditions you and Tommy put forth to her about the marriage.”

Lucy started to unconsciously fumble at the plain gold bands encircling her fingers. The wedding was in only a few short weeks, and to say that she was dreading it would be an understatement. Things had happened very quickly after the proposal.

“And?”

Polly lit one of her black cigarettes with the snap of a lighter, puffing on it greedily and eyeing Lucy with an obvious challenge in her dark eyes. “You really think that it’s a good idea for you and Tommy to keep up this…whatever it is that goes on between the two of you after he’s married?”

“We were still together after he married Grace–”

“That was different. He’s a politician now. His every move has the potential to invite scrutiny. If it gets out that he’s having an affair with his assistant, it could put his very position here in jeopardy.”  

I know that. You think that I don’t fucking know that? Lucy swallowed hard, reaching for the cigarette case on her desk, pulling one out and lighting it, stalling to give herself time to think of a response, hoping that Polly wouldn't notice the slight way that her hands trembled.

“We know the risks. We’ll be careful.”

“You two have never been nearly as good at being subtle as you think you are.” She shook her head. “I thought that it was a bad idea, him choosing to bring you along with him here in the first place. Too many people in Birmingham already know you two are caught up in some sort of…entanglement. Rumors are already starting to circulate. You really think that they’ll stop just because he marries someone else?”

Lucy crossed one arm around herself, her elbow moving to rest on her wrist. Holding her cigarette close to her face, she used her thumb to brush a few stray red locks out of her eyes. She could barely meet Polly’s harsh gaze. 

“Lucy,” placing her still smoking cigarette into the ashtray on the desk, Polly stood, planting both hands on the fine wood between them and leaning towards her, looming over her. For a moment fully encompassing the identity of the Shelby matriarch exerting her whole force of influence. “Being with you is not worth Tommy potentially losing everything he has worked so hard for.”

Hearing the words that had been circling over and over in her own head actually spoken aloud hit as hard as a slap would have. Lucy jerked sharply, cringing away in spite of herself. She stared at Polly destitutely.

“What would you have me do, Polly?” 

Polly’s dark eyes softened a fraction when she recognized the sorrow on Lucy’s face. “I think you already know.” 

“You really think that he would be unaffected if I just…left?” 

“He’d get over it. In time. Especially with a new, beautiful wife and two perfect children at his side.”

A small sound emitted from Lucy’s throat. It would have hurt less if Polly had walked in, dumped a bucket of gasoline over her head, and set her on fire.

Sometimes, the only thing that kept her from packing a bag in the middle of the night and going to the train station was knowing how heartbroken Tommy would be if she left. The mental images of him with tears in his eyes, chasing after her train, screaming for her to come back, was more than enough to convince her to stay. Despite everything, she still could not bring herself to leave his side. 

Who would take care of him, if she was gone? She certainly did not trust Polly to–at least not in the way that he really needed. Arthur, while his heart was in the right place, was too messed up to be of much help. Ada and Uncle Charlie could maybe both be of use, but they each had their own shit to deal with. They could not devote themselves entirely to Tommy in the way that Lucy did. 

But maybe Lizzie could…

Lucy shuddered, fingers clenching hard around her cigarette in an attempt to ground herself. She loved Tommy. She wanted nothing but good things for him. She could not leave him if she thought that her departure would cause him unhappiness. But if she could be sure that he could find happiness with Lizzie, if she knew that she could trust Lizzie to take care of him the way that he needed…

Polly reached across the table, and touched her shoulder. It was only then that Lucy realized that a single tear had slid down her cheek, with more gleaming unshed within her eyes.  

“I’m not trying to be cruel, dear. We’ve had our differences in the past, I know. I really am just looking out for the good of everyone.”

Lucy looked up at her, lips parted to speak, when the double doors leading into Tommy’s office opened. She hastily looked down and away, trying subtly to brush away the lone tear she had shed before Tommy stepped out with his colleague. He quirked a puzzled eyebrow at Polly’s presence, shaking the man’s hand and bidding him goodbye before turning to his aunt. 

“Hello, Polly. What are you doing here?”

“I was in the city running some errands, so thought that I’d come by and say hello,” Polly smiled, chipper as a chipmunk that had just found a whole bushel of nuts to keep it happy and well fed the entire winter.

Tommy’s eyes went to Lucy’s, not entirely buying Polly’s story. 

What happened? his expression asked, noticing something in her face. She just gave a miniscule shake of her head. 

It’s fine.

He didn’t look wholly convinced, but caught on that now wasn’t a good time to pry further.

“Well, since you’re here, we can talk about the latest developments. Have you spoken with Michael lately?”

“Yes, actually,” Polly started to launch into a recount of her latest phone call with Michael while Tommy shepherded her into his office. He didn’t look to be entirely listening to her, instead shooting Lucy a concerned glance from over his shoulder. She offered him a weak smile that only made him look more worried, and before following Polly into his office he leaned forward, and pressed a firm kiss between her brows. 

Whatever she said, don’t listen to it, his eyes told her. Lucy gave a tiny nod.

“Tommy?” Polly’s voice called from the office. 

“Coming,” he sighed, but didn’t actually move until after he’d brushed the back of his hand affectionately down Lucy’s cheek with a small, comforting smile. Despite herself, she leaned into the touch desperately, closing her eyes while his thumb stroked her skin. 

“I love you,” he mouthed to her when she finally met his gaze.

“Love you too,” she whispered hoarsely back, so quietly it was a wonder that he even heard her. With another gentle smile, he kissed the top of her head, ducking back into his office before Polly could shout for him again. He left the doors open, as if to let her know that she was more than welcome to join them at any time.   

Lucy raised a fist to rest against her lips as she stared after him, heart aching, and Polly’s words swirling around inside her head. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“Thank you again for the teddy bear. I swear that she hasn’t let it out of her grasp since I first gave it to her.”

Lucy smiled softly, leaning forward to watch Ruby play on the blanket Lizzie had set up for her in the sitting room. The aforementioned teddy bear was clutched in the baby’s arms, one of her chubby cheeks squished against it. Lucy was always buying her gifts. Tommy kept joking that she was going to spoil her, as if he were any better about not buying her anything and everything that he thought she might want. 

That sweet girl deserved to be spoiled as much as possible. 

 “I’m glad.”

“Thanks for coming by and watching her. I swear, with Tilly on holiday I haven’t gotten even a second to myself.” Lizzie finally swooped in from the kitchen with two teacups for them. With all the wedding planning and then her nanny taking a week long holiday, she looked more than a little frazzled.

“It’s no problem. I’m always happy to spend time with her.”

Lizzie’s gaze softened, passing Lucy her teacup and sitting down beside her on the couch, putting her own cup down on the table so she could reach over to stroke her daughter’s cheek. 

“Aren’t you excited, Ruby? We’ll be going to live with Daddy soon. You’ll get to see him allllll the time,” Lizzie cooed. The baby babbled excitedly and she giggled, leaning back. “God, she’s getting so big.”

Lucy nodded, remembering how fast Charlie had seemed to grow. “It always happens so fast.”

They both watched little Ruby play for a while, sipping on their tea in silence. Lucy knew that she needed to get going, but there was something that she needed to ask, before she did. 

Mustering up her courage, she took a deep breath, setting her teacup back down into its saucer. “Lizzie?”

“Mhm?” her gaze did not leave Ruby.

“Are you sure that you’re alright with our…with our arrangement for after you're married?”

Lizzie glanced at her, eyebrow raised. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Once it’s done, it won’t exactly be easy to back out of.”

“Yes, I know.” Lizzie splayed out her left hand, looking down at the glittering engagement ring on her finger. Lucy could only look at it for a moment before she had to glance away. “It’s all going to work itself out.”

Lucy examined her face closely. Something about the way that she said that last part had the fine hairs on the back of her arms standing on end. 

“Lizzie…” she spoke as gently as she could, terrified of accidentally setting her off. “You can’t force someone to love you. I don’t want you to go into this expecting that once the marriage license is signed he’ll just–”

“I know,” Lizzie cut her off, but Lucy did not really think that she did. There was a distant look on her face, a dreaminess as if she were lost in a faraway fantasy. One in which Lucy was certain that she did not exist and Tommy was falling over himself to kiss Lizzie’s feet. 

How many times had she attempted to get it through Lizzie’s head that she could not brute force Tommy into loving her the way that she wanted him to? Too many to count, at this point. There was not much more she could do but hope that Lizzie managed to figure it out for herself, and trust that she–like Tommy–could make her own decisions. 

“Okay,” she murmured, even though she felt anything but. 

∗ ∗ ∗

On the night before the wedding, it took nearly every ounce of willpower that Lucy had not to pack a bag and run far, far away. 

She felt sick with anxiety and guilt. Like a huge stone had been lodged in her gut. Polly’s words played on a loop inside her head, and the look of quiet hopefulness in Lizzie’s eyes flashed before her every time she shut her eyes. 

She had not mentioned the conversation she’d had with Polly to Tommy.

She knew that she probably should have, but she always hated it when he argued with any of his family because of her. So she kept her mouth shut, despite Polly’s words circling and festering in her mind. 

Would it not be better for everyone if she left? Tommy would not have to juggle prioritizing her along with Lizzie and everyone else, Ruby and Charlie would have a stable, normal household to grow up in, and Lizzie could finally have a shot at actually living out the fantasy she’d been dreaming of for years and years. No one in the family outside of Tommy would even miss her, and he could easily find a new assistant to replace her. There were plenty of qualified people, even amongst just the Blinders.  

“Lucy?”

She roused from her internal downward spiral at the sound of Tommy’s voice. He was standing in the middle of the bedroom, having already removed all his clothes save for his trousers, white button down shirt, and suspenders. He had his hands in his pockets, staring at her worriedly. When she looked up at him and he saw her face, he quickly came to sit beside her on the bed. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, carefully draping an arm around her. She let him pull her into his side, head coming to rest against his shoulder. 

“Mhm.”

“No, you’re not,” he argued back gently, lips finding the top of her head. “Worried about tomorrow?”

“Do you really think that this is a good idea?”

He frowned, confusion entering his eyes. “What? The wedding?”

She shook her head. “Us staying together.” 

The confusion morphed into panic. “What do you mean?”

Lucy swiped at her nose with the back of her hand, aware that she was about two seconds away from starting to cry. It felt like ever since the vendetta ended, most of what she did was either cry or mope around feeling sorry for herself. He must be so tired of having to comfort her all the damn time. 

Yet another thing to add to the list of improvements that her absence would bring: Tommy no longer would be burdened with having to take care of her. 

“Having an affair after you get married is a huge risk, Tommy. If someone finds out about it…it could ruin everything.”

Tommy drew back slightly to stare at her. His brows were pulled in, lips turning downwards, his gaze apprehensive and hurt. 

“Do you…” he swallowed hard, throat convulsing, and she realized that the question he was about to ask her was almost enough to bring him to tears. “Do you want to split up?”

“No. No; of course I don’t want to split up. I love you. But I don’t think that I could live with the guilt if I were the reason you lose everything you’ve worked so hard for.” She touched his face. “I don’t want to become a problem for you.”

His hand covered hers, squeezing against her knuckles. “You could never,” he said softly, leaning closer to bring their foreheads together. “It’ll be alright. We’ll be careful. Besides,” he angled his head to kiss her nose. “You think I’ll be the only MP having an affair? Most of them are sleeping with at least one other woman who’s not their wife. Hell, a lot of them have whole second families stashed away somewhere.”

He’d had her gather up dirt on a good many of his fellow MPs after he was elected. Just in case they ever needed to twist someone’s arm on something or ensure their silence on certain topics. She knew better than most the kinds of dirty secrets those men in their pompous, expensive suits and positions of power held close.  

“Listen,” Tommy wetted his lips, sitting up and taking a hold of both her shoulders. “If you really don’t want me to marry Lizzie, I won’t.”

“No, it’s fine…”

“If me marrying her means that I can’t be with you, then I won’t do it. You’re too important. I can’t lose you.”

She leaned closer, until their foreheads were touching, her fingertips laying upon his cheeks. “You have me. This marriage is what’s for the best. For you and Ruby.”

“Your happiness matters too.” 

She looked down with a sad smile. Sweet and gentle as his words were, they were hard to believe. Not when she’d put what was best for him over her being content every time.  

“Hey, look at me,” he coaxed her chin back up with his hand. “It does. It does. Ey?” He cradled the side of her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “We’re going to be just fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

She nodded shakily, breaths stuttering with the emotion inside her chest. 

“Come here,” he drew her closer, and she let her hands rest on his chest when he slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her in a way that was soft but impossibly deep, tongue stroking slowly into her mouth. 

She kissed him back, eager for him to drive away the storm inside her and silence the cruel voices in her own head. With a soft sound of desperation, Tommy’s hands went to her shirt, fumbling with the buttons. Lucy’s fingers found their way into his hair while he abandoned her lips to instead pepper kisses down her neck. His large hands were warm even through the material of her clothes. With a soft whine, Lucy pressed herself closer, chasing the heat of his touch. 

Soon as her shirt was fully open, he pushed it eagerly off of her shoulders, hands smoothing across her ribs. While he explored the newly exposed skin, she set to work getting him out of his own shirt, tossing the button down to join hers on the floor, then coaxing him to raise his arms enough so she could pull off the undershirt layered beneath. Tommy loosened the ties on her bra, pulling it away and almost immediately cupping both breasts in his hands, squeezing and massaging the globes of flesh, running his thumbs across her nipples until she trembled.

His mouth returned to hers, and as they kissed he got her out of her trousers and knickers and promptly manhandled her into his lap, an arm around her waist to help keep her balance. Their foreheads knocked clumsily against each other at their eagerness to steal more kisses, but neither seemed to care. 

By this time tomorrow, he would be married. Lucy wondered if moments like these with him would become a rare occurrence. Ones that she would have to hold dear and make the most of whenever she got the chance. 

As if reading her mind, Tommy pulled back just enough for their eyes to meet, thumb stroking her freckled cheek. 

“I’m always going to be yours. No matter what,” he said resolutely. 

Lucy felt a lump swell in her throat. “Don’t make me cry right now.”

His lips quirked up. “Sorry,” he kissed her again. “But I mean it.”

“I know. I know you do, love.” She found his lips once more, and he promptly banished any other thoughts of his impending nuptials with the opening of his mouth against hers, and the tender stroke of his hands down her back. 

After what happened to her during the vendetta, her back was covered in a mass of crisscrossed scars. Tommy’s hands traced the shape of them, as he had dozens of times before with both his hands and lips. The skin was more sensitive since the injuries that left it so mangled, and he kept his touch light and careful. 

Pressing down deeper into his lap, Lucy ground against the growing bulge in his trousers, earning herself a deep hiss. He tried to chase her when she drew back from their kisses, the small whine he released making her smile. 

Giving him a small, teasing smirk, she slid her hands down his body to fumble with his belt, Tommy lifting his hips dutifully to allow her to easily pull his trousers and briefs down his legs. 

His half hard cock sprang up, bobbing before her, and a low groan sounded from Tommy’s throat when she wrapped her hand around it, stroking him slowly to full hardness. As he swelled in her hand, she leaned forward to press kisses to his stomach, making her way lazily up his chest. Between her legs, her clit ached, her walls squeezing around nothing at the way his cock throbbed against her palm. 

The arm Tommy had around her waist gave her a small squeeze, readjusting her in his lap so that she could straddle one of his thighs. She moaned softly into his chest when she pressed down, grinding eagerly. Tommy hissed through his teeth at how wet she already was, her slick soaking his leg whilst she humped him. Peering up and seeing a sudden opportunity in their current position, Lucy settled her unoccupied hand on his ribs, dipping her head to suck one of his nipples into her mouth. He let out a startled grunt at the action, hips bucking into her hand of their volition. Lucy giggled, circling her tongue around him and enjoying the way he shivered as she bit lightly at the hardened peak. 

Letting him go with a small pop, she peered up at him innocently, probably looking far too pleased with herself at having caught him unawares. Tommy touched her cheek lightly, brows knitted in mock sternness that was greatly undercut by the sparkle in his eyes. 

“What was that for, eh?”

She shrugged, trying–and failing–to contain her grin as she gazed up at him. Tommy’s eyes narrowed playfully.

“You trying to get me to punish you, hm?” his hand stroked her face, and when his thumb passed across her lips, she nipped at it, snickering when he snatched it away.

“Always.”

His cock twitched in her hand, and she raised an amused eyebrow at him, taking note of the reaction.

“Get over here then,” he grunted, both hands landing on her hips. She bit her lip around her smile, letting him pull her into position over his cock. “Ready?”

She nodded, and he kissed her cheek, slowly guiding her down onto him. They both moaned at the stretch as she slowly took him into her inch by thick inch. 

“God, you’re always so tight,” burying his face in her neck, Tommy wrapped his arms around her. Lucy hummed, walls aching slightly at his considerable girth, giving herself a moment to adjust before she started to move. 

Tommy’s moans were low, his eyes lidded heavily whilst he watched her begin to bounce on him, hands situating to help guide her movements, their pace starting out slow. 

It was amazing how easily it was for her to realize just how silly she was being once his hands were on her. The way that he looked at her, with so much love and adoration brimming in his big blue eyes, was proof enough that he was just as unlikely as she was to be able to survive them being parted from each other. 

When he was there to help ground her, it was easier to quiet her insecurities and trust that he would ensure everything turned out alright. He cherished their relationship as much as she did; surely he would do everything within his power to keep it safe. 

It was when she was on her own, left with only her own thoughts to keep her company, without Tommy around to help balance out and quiet them, that she started to get into trouble. No matter how unreasonable and absurd she knew she was being, once she started to spiral, it was almost impossible for her to manage to stop it on her own. 

They’d learned that the hard way, during the holiday they took right after the vendetta was over, when they both nearly lost themselves to their ravaged minds. 

“Oh fuck, fuck. That feels good. Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop, Lucy,” Tommy groaned, eyes rolling in his head when she started to pick up the pace and swiveled her hips on him. His grip on her tightened, cheek resting against hers while his head tipped back.

“Close,” she warned, as if he couldn’t already tell from the way she was moaning into his neck, walls fluttering around him.  

With a growl, his hips rolled up more vigorously into her, hand sneaking between their bodies to find her clit.

“Oh…” her eyes screwed shut, orgasm so close she could almost taste it. “Please, please…”

“Hm? Please, what, pretty girl?”

She sobbed at the low octave his voice had dipped into, hands scrambling at his powerful shoulders. Tommy chuckled.

“Can’t give you what you want if you won’t tell me, sweetheart.”

“H-harder…”

“Harder, eh? You mean like this?” Hand splaying out firmly at the small of her back to keep her from falling off, he started to snap his hips up with more force, adding more pressure to her clit as he did. 

She could only answer with a moan, drawing scratch marks down his back. Tommy chuckled, the vibrations reverberating throughout his chest and rumbling pleasantly against her. 

It took only a handful more thrusts, and a kiss to her temple, and she came hard. It sent explosive bursts of color flashing across her eyes, entire body tensing and relaxing simultaneously with the force of her orgasm. She held onto Tommy for dear life, and without even really thinking, so overcome with pleasure and affection for him, she bit into his shoulder. 

Tommy let out a massive moan, eyes rolling at the sting of her teeth against his skin. And suddenly he was seizing her in his arms and rolling them. Her back hit the mattress, one of his strong palms cradling the back of her head and neck to protect them.     

He practically loomed over her, something wild and animalistic awakened in his eyes. Lucy couldn’t quite stop the gasp that left her lips at how the sudden position change emphasized just how much bigger he was than her. 

But it didn’t feel threatening. Not in the slightest. To her, Tommy would never truly seem scary or intimidating. When it came to her, he only ever offered protection and love. 

Biting her lip, she stared at the center of his chest. She probably wouldn’t have been able to even recall her own name had someone asked. She was too encompassed by the feelings of being both incredibly protected and aroused. 

With a growl that seemed to echo throughout the entire room, Tommy started thrusting into her wildly. Lucy gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him in tighter against her. 

“Fuck,” her eyes closed, head falling back as her hands moved from where they’d settled on his waist to instead smooth across his strong back, feeling the way his muscles clenched and shifted under his skin. Tommy chuckled when she reached down to briefly squeeze a handful of his ass, vibrations rumbling against her neck where his lips were pressing soft kisses and gentle nips. 

She could feel that he was drawing nearer to his release, his breaths stuttering in his chest, hips driving into hers desperately. He was entering her at an angle that had his pubic bone grinding against her clit with each thrust, and it did not take long for her to be teetering on the edge as well, walls starting to spasm around his twitching cock. 

“Shit,” Tommy grunted, hands fisting in the bedsheets on either side of her head. “Lucy.” He said her name like it was the most precious thing in the entire world, and she felt tears burn at the edges of her eyes. 

“Fill me up,” she half begged, head tipping back and eyes closing. Her second orgasm ripped through her with such ferocity that her legs twitched around Tommy’s waist, walls clamping down on him in a vice grip. 

Tommy cried out, one hand scrambling to seize hold of hers, lacing their fingers together and squeezing as he spilled his seed inside her. His forehead landed to rest on her temple, breaths heaving in his chest, hips thrusting lazily to prolong their pleasures until both were utterly spent.     

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Lucy stared up at the canopy covering the bed, Tommy’s weight comforting and heavy on top of her. He curled both arms underneath and around her, head turning to settle on her clavicle while his breathing returned to normal. She ran her fingers delicately through his soft dark hair, sighing when he pressed a delicate kiss to the hollow of her throat. 

When he finally did decide to move, it was to merely pull his softening cock out of her and maneuver them to lay on their sides facing each other. He always did worry about squishing her when she was under him. 

Lucy swallowed harshly when she looked into his eyes, his hand returning to its favorite pastime of stroking her face. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, tracing the shape of her lips. “I know that this whole thing is so fucking shitty for you, love.” The arm around her tightened, and he drew in a little closer to her. “Whatever you need from me to make it easier for you, please, just tell me. Don’t ever feel bad about it. You won’t be causing problems, or being selfish, I promise. I need to make sure that you’re okay.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, laying a hand on his waist, feeling his side expand with his breaths. 

“I mean it, if you really don’t want me to do this…”

“So long as Lizzie continues to be alright with our arrangement, I think it’ll be fine. It’s just going to take some getting used to at first.” 

“More for her than for you or me. Once the honeymoon is over, things will go mostly back to the way that they were before.”

“It still doesn’t seem fair to her.”

Tommy shrugged. “She agreed to it. And we’ve asked multiple times now if she’s still sure that she’s alright with the arrangement. She’s said yes every time.”

“She could still always change her mind.” The thought chilled Lucy to her core. What would they do if that happened? Tommy would be bound to her, unable to get away without creating an absolute shitshow. “Once the ink dries on that marriage license and the rings go on, she has you forever.” 

“No, she doesn’t.” Tommy propped himself up slightly, brows pulling together. His hand reached out for her face, taking firm hold of her cheek, thumb drawing across her cheekbone. “She doesn’t own me. I can make my own choices. We have made it as clear as we can what she is getting herself into. If she does change her mind, as far as I’m concerned, that’s her problem. Not ours. She’ll have to decide if she can live with what she agreed to or not. Rings can be taken off, love. If they have to be.”

“We both know that it’s not that simple.”

“Hey,” his grip tightened, forcing her to meet his worried eyes. “It doesn’t have to be forever.” 

Face creasing in confusion, she searched his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Tommy swallowed. “Well, after I retire from politics, or after Ruby comes of age, or when society becomes more accepting about things like divorce–”

She gaped at him. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

“Why not?”

“So, what? You just divorce her when the time is right?”

“Yes.”

“And then what?”

He shrugged. “And then…you and I could get married, if that’s what you wanted,” her heart did a little swoop. “Or we could carry on as we have before. Whatever you want.” 

“If you wait until Ruby is of age, that’s almost twenty years,” she frowned, suddenly deeply aware of her own thirty-three years. “You aren’t gonna want me anymore when I’m all old and wrinkly.”

“I’ll always want you.” 

“You make it really hard to argue with you when you’re being so bloody charming.”

He grinned, thumb running along her cheekbone. “Sorry,” he said, though he very obviously was not. He took hold of her face with both hands. “I know how bloody selfish it is to ask you to wait for me–”

“I’ll wait,” she said, without hesitation. His gaze softened, leaning down to kiss her deeply in gratitude.

“Thank you,” he dropped his face to peck her bare shoulder. “It isn’t forever. Remember that. And if we need to end it prematurely–if you need me to end it prematurely–even if the timing isn’t ideal, I’ll do it. Just say that word.” Leaning back, he cocked his head, suddenly very serious. “She doesn’t have me. You have me. Always.”

She started to sniffle. “I told you not to make me cry.”

He stroked away her tears and then engulfed her in a tight hug, her cheek squishing into his chest. “Sorry,” he said again, this time much more genuine. She shook her head against his apology, burrowing closer. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Lucy.” His cheek adjusted against her head. “Promise you will tell me if you’re having trouble in here,” he tapped the crown of her head and stroked her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I don’t like the thought of you suffering in silence when I could help.”

“I don’t want to be all clingy and cause you more problems—“

“You and your needs are never a problem,” he leaned back, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “And maybe I like you clingy.”

She snorted quietly at that. “It’s going to be hard to be away from you for so long.” The honeymoon was only planned to last a week, but it was easily the longest they’d ever been away from each other. 

Tommy let out a pained sound. “I really don’t want to go.”

She touched his jaw, trying to soothe him. “You might have fun…”

“She’s making us go to fucking Paris, Lucy.”

“I know,” she said softly. Her eyebrows had nearly risen all the way up to her hairline when Lizzie had announced Paris as the location she wanted them to honeymoon in. It made her wonder how Lizzie could claim that she knew Tommy at all, when she couldn’t even seem to understand why he might not be particularly thrilled to go anywhere located in France. “It’s just for a week,” she tried to convince herself as much as him. 

“We can talk on the phone.”

“Oh, she’ll love that.”

He shrugged. “That’s the price she pays for not wanting you to come.”

“Mm,” Lucy hummed, touching his face affectionately. Silence fell over them, just staring into each other’s eyes, caressing the other’s cheeks and jaws tenderly. 

“You still have my soul, you know?” she remarked, voice seeming very quiet in the otherwise dark stillness of the room. The first gift she ever gave him, presented at their first official meeting, during the deal that began the merging of their two beings into one. Please, don’t throw it away.  

Tommy’s hand took hold of one of hers, guiding it to press against his chest above his heart. “And you still have my heart.” Please, don’t break it, his eyes begged. Lucy swallowed at the memory of the night he offered it to her, as an equal trade for the soul she’d already relinquished to him. 

He urged her face up to look at him, her wide brown eyes meeting his icy blue ones. He kissed her softly, so much raw emotion packed into the brush of their lips that she nearly broke down into hysterical sobs right there in his arms. 

“We’re going to be okay.”

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[zy4nyaa]

Random Chuuya headcanons

I honestly feel like he wouldn’t date anybody since he is in the mafia and he wouldn’t want anybody to be in danger because of that, he would probably date someone if they’re in the mafia with him

But if he were to date somebody then he would most definitely keep his eyes on his significant other, like he would stay loyal to that person and make them his top priority

Even though he is rich, I don’t think he would be buying unnecessary things, like I just feel like he wouldn’t go around buying hundreds of things just bc he’s rich

He has a YouTube channel of him doing skincare and hauls and a bunch of other stuff

He DEFINITELY knows how to cook and draw/paint😍😍

He hates when other people struggle, he feels like he struggled a lot and went through so much pain and he doesn’t want anybody else to experience that either. As soon as someone opens up to him he’s right by their side

Even after that if the person is doing fine he would still keep an eye out and look out for that person to make sure that they’re actually okay

He’s insecure about himself so he absolutely loves when other people compliment him even if it’s a small one

Even though he is insecure about himself people still come up with him, he doesn’t know how attractive he really is. He doesn’t realize when people are trying to flirt with him he just thinks they’re complimenting them or referring to something else

I feel like since he works at the mafia that he wakes up early for work, he either wakes up at 5:00 or 5:30. He is probably won’t get a chance to sleep sometimes since he works late

If you’re his lover, be prepared because you won’t really see him that much since he has a strict schedule and will mostly come home at midnight, even then he would still find time to spend with you

He has social media like TikTok and instagram but he doesn’t post that much, the least that he would post is a picture of wine on his story

I don’t know if it’s just me but I feel like he has Heterochromia since his eyes are blue in the anime but brown in the manga.

He knows multiple languages like Japanese, English, French, Italian, and Spanish. He is fluent in Japanese (obviously) and Spanish, probably French too because of Verlaine.

He also likes to curse in French

Sometimes he paints his nails red or black if he’s bored

He definitely has light freckles on his face that are too light to see, he also has 2-3 scars from fighting.

He probably has piercings like his lip or eyebrow, maybe even his nose

His style is soo good, I picture him most likely wearing black, red, gray, white, or just any colors that go good with each other.

Along with the hat and wine collection, he also loves to collect shoes and gloves although he will continue to wear the same pair of shoes and gloves even if he has hundreds of them in different colors

Whenever he tries to put his hair in a ponytail he can NEVER get it right, it’s either too far up, too far back, not straight, or there’s a huge lump

His hands are so freaking nice, and they are literally bigger than dazais (this isn’t a headcanon this is true look it up)

Absolutely LOVESS music, In my opinion I think he listens to a lot of bands and hard rock. He is over 10 hours on Spotify and has playlists for different purposes

If he has a crush and they mention their favorite music artist or song he will go home and listen to that all day

Whenever a person betrays him I feel like he wouldn’t hate that person completely, he would still care about them but not as much as he used to

He likes hot showers especially if he is stressed out, he loves the feeling of it on his scalp

He has a few bottles of cologne but he wears one specific one most of the time, it’s like his signature smell

Since he is insecure about his appearance he wears like makeup like concealer on his scars and marks

He likes to invite some of the other pm members to the bar every Friday if he has free time

There was one time where he got so sad to the point where he didn’t want to do anything, he didn’t feel like getting out of bed, eating, or cleaning his room

He did really well in school, he didn’t have a big friend group he really only had 2-3 close friends and the rest were people he just talks too

Everyday before going to work he looks in the mirror and winks at himself and does random cringey poses

If he catches you staying up too late on your phone he will snatch it away from you and cuddle you to sleep

He likes to buy his friends things, like if they’re at a coffee shop then he will buy them something or pay for their coffee

He would genuinely love his significant other a lot, he’d call them when he has time to at work and text them just to check up on them

He sometimes takes a trip to the store after work to buy unnecessary snacks that he won’t eat

He REALLY cares about his hygiene, he always smells good even without cologne. You will never catch this man stinking

He has a few posters of dogs on his wall, when he was OBSESSED with dogs he bought a lapel pin with a brown chihuahua on it and he would wear it to work every single day

His sleep schedule is kind of messed up since of his work but it’s not as bad as Dazai’s

His body is soo AJAKSSHSJHS like his waist is snatched and his legs are muscular like omg😍

He either types with a bunch of emojis or is just dry, it depends on the person because he could be like “Ok!😜💕❤️😘😁☺️😍🥳🐒🦅🎣😍📝” or he could be like “k”. It depends on his mood and who he’s texting

On mondays he would telll himself that he only has to make to Friday (he’s been telling himself that for years, he honestly never makes it to Friday)

That’s all for now but I will most likely be adding more headcanons to this list :D