#This man radiates such Husband energy

[zuzu-draws]

Rest Easy, He's in a good mood right now.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

They are now gay, love wins <3

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Heyy, could you maybe do an age difference reader x Toto Wolff or sunshine x grumpy, where he has one of his headphone breaking moments and she scolds him in the middle of the garage? Like I’d find super funny like his smaller, younger wife yelling at him for breaking his headphones and the fans and media eating that up haha. Please and thanks!! <3

The hum of the Mercedes garage was as familiar as it was chaotic, a rhythm of voices, machinery, and focused intensity. Engineers moved swiftly, the clatter of tools punctuating their discussions as mechanics fine-tuned the car for the upcoming race. Amidst the organized chaos, you stood by the monitors, scanning data with a calm focus that contrasted sharply with the frenetic energy around you.

Then it happened.

“Verdammt!” Toto’s voice boomed from the other end of the garage, startling even the most seasoned team members. Heads turned to see him, towering as always, but now radiating frustration. His expression was a storm cloud, and in his hands were the remnants of his latest pair of Bose headphones, the poor device snapped clean in two.

You let out a sigh, half amused, half exasperated. Your husband—the esteemed team principal of Mercedes-AMG Petronas, feared and respected across the paddock—had once again succumbed to his infamous headphone-breaking habit.

“Oh no, not again,” you muttered under your breath. You handed your tablet to a nearby engineer and strode across the garage, weaving through the maze of equipment and personnel. The team parted like the Red Sea as you approached, sensing what was about to unfold.

Toto stood there, oblivious to the audience he had attracted. His broad shoulders heaved as he tried to rein in his temper, the broken headphones dangling from his massive hands. He looked every bit the grumpy giant he was known to be, but to you, it was just another Friday.

“Toto Wolff,” you began, your voice sharp enough to cut through the air. His head snapped up, and his stormy gaze softened—just a little—when it landed on you. But his sheepish expression did nothing to quell your determination.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” you demanded, planting your hands on your hips. Despite being significantly shorter and younger than him, you had no trouble commanding the attention of a man who could intimidate entire boardrooms.

“They broke,” Toto said, as if that explained everything. He held up the shattered headphones as evidence, his Austrian accent thick in his defense.

“Oh, really?” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your words. “Did they break, or did you break them? Because I’ve lost count of how many pairs you’ve destroyed this season alone. What is it now, five? Six?”

A snicker rippled through the garage, and you caught George trying to suppress a grin from where he stood by the car. Even the media personnel hovering near the entrance couldn’t hide their amusement, cameras clicking furiously to capture the moment.

Toto’s ears turned red, a rare crack in his composed demeanor. “It was… a stressful situation,” he mumbled, looking anywhere but at you.

“Stressful?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “And snapping your headphones in half helps how, exactly? Are you planning to intimidate Red Bull with broken electronics now?”

The garage erupted in laughter, and Toto’s lips twitched, caught between a scowl and a smile. He shifted awkwardly, the 6’4” team principal suddenly looking very much like a schoolboy caught red-handed.

“You need to control your temper, mein Liebling,” you said, softening your tone but not your resolve. “You’re setting a terrible example for the team. And for the record, I’m not buying you another pair. You can use the cheap earbuds like everyone else until you learn some self-restraint.”

Toto’s eyes widened, the horror of your words sinking in. “Not the earbuds,” he said, as if you’d suggested he race barefoot.

“Yes, the earbuds,” you confirmed, folding your arms. “Consider it a lesson in anger management.”

Another wave of laughter rippled through the team, and even Toto couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. He looked down at you, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and affection.

“You’re terrifying when you’re angry,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Good,” you replied, poking a finger into his chest. “Maybe you’ll finally listen to me.”

As you turned to walk away, the garage buzzed with whispered commentary and stifled laughs. The moment had been caught by every camera in the vicinity, and you had no doubt it would be all over social media within the hour.

A shadow loomed over you, and you turned to see Toto standing there, an apologetic smile on his face. In his hand was a hastily repaired pair of headphones, held together with duct tape.

“I’ll behave,” he promised, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “No more broken headphones.”

“Good,” you said, giving him a pointed look. “Because next time, it’ll be the earbuds and no kisses for a week.”

He groaned dramatically but nodded, retreating to his post with his makeshift headphones. You shook your head, a fond smile tugging at your lips. He might be a grumpy giant with a penchant for breaking expensive electronics, but he was your grumpy giant. And if keeping him in line meant scolding him in front of the entire team, well, you were more than up to the task.

[girlboypersonthingy]

Hi yes i saw hazbin requests were open??? Anything involving pining Lucifer. Or lucifer seeing reader dressed super nice for like a fancy party or something (full makeup, fancy revealing dress, that sorta thing) for the first time. Maybe feelings are revealed? I’m a sucker for pining

I love that we are all so disgustingly thirsty for this man. He deserves it ❤️‍🔥 but seriously tho…all my Lucifer posts have gotten at least 100 likes in the first day that they’re posted. Like damn yall, we need to talk about our husband more! We all have such good taste 😌 I love our little short king. Thanks for the request. Enjoyyyyyyy~

Notes: fem!reader, reader wears a dress in this one

TW: suggestive themes, hardcore pining, heavy making out

🪽The King of Pining🪽

This morning, Charlie invited everyone to the lobby of the hotel, shouting out that she had great news and a wonderful idea. Husk and Angel grumble about their annoyance with it being too early in the morning and them being way too sober for group activities right now as they plop down on one of the couches. The rest of the group files in, finding spots to relax as Charlie bounces up and down in her spot, bitting her lip and clenching her fists out of pure excitement. You follow along, deciding to stay standing and a bit behind the group, glancing back to see Lucifer coming to join the pack, standing just behind the couch that sat Vaggie and Nifty. You stare at him for a moment and when he finally glances your way, you offer him a sleepy smile and a quick wave of your hand. A small smirk finds its way to his lips as he nods his head at you, quickly looking away after.

“So…what’s the news?” Vaggie finally speaks up once everyone is settled and all eyes are on Charlie standing front and center. “Sooooooo, I had a brilliant idea that will be equally fun and beneficial to the hotel. Ready? Ready for it?” Charlie looks around the group, looking as if she might burst into flames of enthusiasm any moment now. “WE ARE GONNA HOST A BALL!!!”

Angel smirks as he nudges Husk beside him. “Heh, balls.” “She said ‘ball’, jackass. Singular.” Husk spits back, rolling his eyes as he scoots away from Angel a bit.

“It’ll attract new recruits for the hotel! We can mingle, talk about all we have to offer. AH! It’s gonna be soooooo funnnnnn.” Charlie is yelling now, she can’t control herself in the slightest.

Charlie goes into explaining the details- it is to be a huge party with a formal dress code that everyone and anyone is invited to. It’ll be here at the hotel, with an open bar (Husk wants to die) and music! The group lets out noises of mixed emotions, Nifty and Angel shouting out of excitement and anticipation while Husk and Alastor both let out noises of dread. You, on the other hand are nervous but looking forward to having a fun night and getting to know the hotel staff and residents better. As Charlie’s speech ends, the group begins to disperse and talk amongst themselves.

You watch as Charlie approaches Vaggie, shyly dropping to her knees in front of her on the couch so that they are eye level with each other. “Will you…be my date to the ball, Vags?” You can’t help but smile as you watch Vaggie laugh, her cheeks and nose slowly changing color. “Of course, you goofball. You’re my partner. There’s no one else I’d rather go with.” They share a long hug, a beautiful positive energy radiating off of them.

“They’re just adorable, aren’t they?” The low, charming voice that sounds right next to you causes you to flinch a bit, now turning to see the king of hell himself standing beside you. “Oh! Hey. Yeah. They are pretty cute. They make a great couple.” You look back to the two girls holding hands and giggling but Lucifer keeps his eyes on you, taking this opportunity while you’re distracted to examine all the little details of your face up close. Hopefully no one else catches sight of him in this moment of utter hopeless romanticism.

When he finally snaps out of it, he lets out a sigh before putting on his best smile, clearing his throat just to get your attention again. “Speaking of great couples~” And as soon as your eyes land on him again, your lips curved up ever so slightly, his courage quickly leaves him. Lucifer freezes for a moment, mouth going dry as he tried to find a way out of this. Say something you idiot.

“I-I ha! I uh…I wonder what other great couples we’ll see at this party. Maybe some of hell’s highest royalty?” Nervous chuckles just keep rolling from his lips and he’s really hoping you don’t notice the way his hands are shaking as they rest on his cane. One of his trembling hands comes to the collar of his shirt, lightly yanking it down as if that would help bring air back to his lungs, the air you’ve sucked out of him with one simple glance.

“Hm. Yeah. Maybe.” You reply plainly, looking back to Vaggie and Charlie and before you can converse with Lucifer any further, he’s walking off with his tail between his legs, eyes wild and full of doubt. “You’ll be there. You are the king of hell after all, I’m sure everyone will be too focused on you and Charlie to notice any other royals. Are you uhm…planning on going with anyone?” You ask, still watching the two girls near the couch. Your voice stops Lucifer in his tracks, making him pause for a moment as he listens. He turns slowly back to you, wearing a bashful smile as he tucks both his arms behind his back.

“No, actually. I hadn’t even thought of it.” He lies, watching as you finally pull your gaze from his daughter and relax it on him. He slowly saunters back your way, unable to control his wandering eyes. “And what about you? Do you have anyone in mind that you’d want to go with?” And now his nervousness is rubbing off on you, making your voice shake as you respond. “Me? No, no…I’ll probably just tag along with uh…”

As you look around the room, it seems all couples have already paired up. Vaggie and Charlie sat on the couch still, Charlie’s legs strewn over her girlfriend’s lap. Angel and Husk seemed to be having a bit of an argument over what they will wear together. Angel wants to wear all pink but Husk is like FUCK NO. Even Sir Pentious was trembling in front of Cherri, as he looked to he asking her out. Obviously, Alastor is bringing his shadow along. That’s kind of a date…right?

“Uhm I mean, who knows? Maybe I’ll meet someone there.” The pride that inflated Lucifer’s chest just seconds ago seems to suddenly be punctured and drained by your lack of acknowledgment to his flirty hints. He wants to ask you to be his so badly it’s making his chest hurt now. Not his for the night, not his during the party, his all the time, any time he needs you. As he opens his mouth to speak, he hesitates and then decides to let out a heavy sigh instead. “Well..I will see you there.” And with the tip of his head, he finally turned and left you standing alone in a herd of conversing couples.

~night of the party~

You figured there’s no harm in showing up fashionably late tonight. At least, that was your excuse for showing up late. In reality, you were fully ready before the ball even started but your legs were so weak and shaky, you couldn’t find the strength to get yourself out there. So instead, you’re sitting in your room, fully clad in your nicest dress along with some accessories, sunken into your plush bed as you try to steady your breathing. Maybe if I stay here long enough in this dress, I can just say I was there but not actually go…

A knock on your door has you straightening up in your spot, a warm surprised feeling lighting up your chest. “Come in.” You respond, wondering just who was coming to see you right now. You assumed it was Angel trying to get you to come out and start partying with him. To your surprise, the princess of hell pops her cheerful little face inside your room.

“(Y/N)! I was wondering when you’d be coming…out…there. Oh my gosh! You look so gorgeous EEEEE!” Charlie steps into your room now, her big yellow eyes shining with enthusiasm and hope as she fangirls over your getup. “Oh, thank you. You look stunning yourself.” Charlie watches your eyes fluttering all around the room, unable to focus. “Yeah…I’m coming. Just…feeling anxious I guess.” Taking a deep breath, you finally stand, straightening out your dress and checking your hair in a mirror quickly. “Oh stop it! You look flawless, (Y/N). Let’s go have some fun.” Charlie quickly links arms with you and drags you out to the lobby full of people, lights and music.

Within just a few minutes of joining the party, you find yourself looking around a sea of strangers all on your own. Seems the princess of hell has a line of guests wanting to meet and greet with her. Understandable, but you’re starting to get overwhelmed. You’re desperately looking for a familiar face, needing a buddy to help you feel included and secure. As you swim through sinners and other residents of hell, head turning side to side, you finally spot Lucifer after nearly an hour of wandering around alone.

Sure, His typical white suit is nice, very flattering on him. But, oh boy, did he look fantastic tonight, heavenly even. For this special occasion, Lucifer was dressed in a deep red suit with accents of white and no hat, instead sporting his pretty, slicked back blonde hair. You’re not quick to rush to him, I mean are you trying to look desperate and pathetic? No, just stay calm. But once again, you two share a glance from afar and give each other a small wave of the hand. Lucifer looks…pained. He looks like he might just collapse to his knees and start vomiting. His shift in body language causes your smile to drop, your expression shifting to one of concern as you mouth to him ‘you okay?’.

From Lucifer’s point of view, the room became silent, empty, dimly lit with you there at the center of it all under this glowing golden ray of light. You looked angelic, innocent and sweet, elegant but also nervous and out of place and adorable and fuck it, he can’t wait. He nearly pushes the sinner trying to talk to him aside, rushing to you as his brain became overloaded with ideas of what to say to you.

With each and every stride he takes, your cheeks flush deeper shades of red. With every step, his knees begin to feel more and more like jelly. Finally, he’s joined you in the spotlight, the rest of the party fading away before both of your eyes as you stand just inches apart. Now, it’s all wandering eyes and heavy breathing from both of you. Licking your lips first, you force words out to break this awful silence.

“Wow! Y-you clean up well. You look nice, Luci.” As your voice reaches his ears, his dream-like state abruptly ended. The room floods with loud music, chatty people and bright lights again. He seems to perk up at your compliments, feeling like a dog in heat as his eyes travel up and down your lovely outfit. You watch as his eyes finally leave your waist and come up to meet your own gaze.

“Holy hell. You look absolutely divine.” He scoffs quietly, wondering how an angel like you ended up down here. “Oh, Lucifer.” You swat a hand at him and you can feel your face burning up, sweat starting to form on your upper lip and forehead. “Stop it. You flatter me.”

Lucifer looked as if he might pass out, becoming more and more flustered the more you blush. Although, a pleased smirk graces his face because oh~ you like when he flirts with you, huh? It’s okay, he’s hella into you too.Together, you’re just a ticking time bomb of gushy feelings and sexual tension. He figures if he wants to have any chance of confessing his feelings to you tonight, his best option is to lead you out of the way and put a little distance between you two and the crowd. So, he reaches out and gently takes your hand, pulling you along to the now vacant bar with an extremely forced and up tight grin.

Husk is standing behind the counter, looking not as irritated as you’d thought he would tonight. Luci pulls out a stool for you, gesturing for you to sit before he does because he’s a gentleman and ladies always go first. “Hey. Whatcha want, doll?” Husk ask you first, giving you a wink after you answer. “And for you, sir?” He eyes Lucifer who shakes his head, politely refusing his offer. As Husk begins whipping up your drink, yet another tense silence falls between you two.

“Are you having a good time?” The blonde finally speaks up, side eyeing you. “Eh. I’m not a big party person. I’m not a fan of big crowds either so…not really.” At long last, your unhappy and disappointed attitude brings all of Lucifer’s courage and gall to his mouth. Now’s his chance. “Let’s get out of here then.” He blurts out as Husk slides your drink to you, the bartender giving you an awkward look. “What? But all these folks wanna meet you.” Once you look over to him, a devious smile makes its way to Lucifer’s thin lips as you take your first drink. “And? I’m the king of hell! I do as I please.” He teases and now you’re both smiling brightly, a soft laugh leaving your lips as you push his arm playfully. “I love Charlie but I hate this party. Let me finish my drink first, yeah?”

Lucifer continues to side eye you and also scan over the entire room, checking out the scene as you sip on your drink. You can see his casual glances and the way he quickly diverts his attention as soon as you catch him staring. Now you’re the one feeling some bravery. You quickly and smoothly slip your hand into his, letting your thumb rub back and forth across his knuckles as you try to quickly suck down the rest of your drink.

The grip you have on each other grows stronger, tighter with each second that passes. You notice Lucifer bouncing his leg now, growing impatient and needy. As soon as a slurping noise comes from the straw at the bottom of your glass, Lucifer is trying to pull you up off your seat. He’s not worried about hiding his eagerness from you at this point, not when you’re looking like you do now and getting so blushy and shy at his flirtatious comments. He has to shoot his shot, he has to try. You’re the only person who’s made him feel young and love sick again after Lilith, he can’t afford to let you slip away too. That would crush him more than the weight of the embarrassment and discomfort he is feeling right now.

Lucifer leads you to the library, doubting anyone would be occupying it at the moment and he is correct. Finally, alone together, his hand in yours still, fingers interlocked. His big eyes, full of worry and second thoughts stare deep into yours as he gives himself a moment.

“Oh, my. Where do I even begin?” His other hand comes to yours, holding them both oh so delicately. “You…I’m so….” You nod, smiling to give him some encouragement to continue. “I want you so bad. I want to hold you, I just want to touch you already. I need to kiss you. (Y/N), I love you-“

You’re not sure what came over you but now your hands are exploring his blonde locks, your lips moving feverishly against his. Besides the faint, far away music playing, all you two could hear was each other’s soft gasps and the smacking of wet lips. At first, Lucifer was very engaged in the kiss but he was hesitant to touch you, unsure of where to put his hands. Like hell he wants to rest his claws on your hips or your butt, but he waits for you to give him the okay, his hands balled into fists and held up near his shoulders.

Finally letting him have his way, you guide his hands to your torso before breaking the kiss to whisper, “It’s okay, Luci. You can touch me.” It’s more of a whimper than a whisper but Lucifer isn’t complaining in the slightest. The tone of your voice and the feeling of finally touching your perfectly soft body had his eyes glowing bright red now.

Quickly and without warning, he crashes his lips back into yours sloppily, his long forked tongue gently gliding across your lip, giving the slightest bit of attention to your teeth. He would devour every bit of you right now if you only asked. He wished you would ask right now. He’d even beg for it…You happily let your mouth open more, inviting him in as his arms slowly stretch their way around you until he’s holding you tightly against him. Lucifer squeezes you tightly as he savors your taste for a moment, pulling a soft whine from you before loosening up.

With your eyes closed, you tried to just follow his lead and do your best at impressing and arousing him but he’s sort of doing the same. He hasn’t been with anyone like this in so long, he’s rusty as hell. So, yall are an absolute mess. After about a minute of wild making out and rapidly moving hands, you’ve found yourselves on the floor. The two of you sit up on your knees, holding onto each other as if your lives depend on it. Your hands held his cheeks so tenderly, pulling his face as close to your own as you possibly could.

Lucifer couldn’t help but smile against your mouth, a soft laugh leaving him as he remembers all those nights he dreamt of this exact situation- you looking beautiful and magnificent as always and him having the freedom to let his hands roam your darling figure. He’s been craving you, dreaming of you, wishing for you, praying for you. The laugh that escapes him results in you pulling back to get a look at him. And fuck was he gorgeous- hair a disheveled mess, the purple shadow on his eyelids smudged ever so slightly, his once impressive suit now wrinkled and shifted awkwardly on him, his lips still shiny from your saliva, his breathing loud and heavy and his smile just kept getting bigger, toothier.

“What are you laughing at?” Lucifer rests his forehead against yours, his eyes moving across your breathless, flushed face, just dying to know what’s on your mind now. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages, darling. More than I’ve wanted anything in my entire existence, I’ve wanted to be alone with you like this.” A breathy giggle leaves you, your hands shaking as they travel down from his face to his biceps.

“Oh really? Why don’t you stop telling me and…keep showing me?” You tease, your hands coming to rest on his puffed out chest. Your touch combined with your sweet flirting and breathy voice has all of his wings popping out momentarily. You can’t help but laugh at this, but Lucifer is all business right now. You told him to show you, and oh darling, he’s gonna teach you a whole lesson on how beautiful and ethereal you are to him…and he’s gonna teach you with only his hands and his mouth.

[jasongracesenthusiast]

PRINCESS OF THE GODS !

PARING(s), percy jackson x daughter of HERA reader

WARNING(s), basically just marriage

AUTHOR’S NOTE, yeah i listened to juno while doing this, what about it

౨ৎ percy met you a little while after he arrived at camp. you were the only demigod child of hera, the queen of the gods. he was surprised at the thought that zeus would even allow you to live, but in fairness, he wasn’t dead yet either

౨ৎ you two didn’t actually consider yourselves friends until after ttc, when you were kidnapped (yes you’re taking annie’s place IM SORRYYY)

౨ৎ after the events of all that, percy found himself…drifting towards you, in a way

౨ৎ like, before everything happened, even if you weren’t necessarily friends, he did know you, like your existence mattered so much to him, he just didn’t know why at the time

౨ৎ but you, on the other hand, somehow did

౨ৎ when you were saved by percy and friends, you were very optimistic that it was him saving you and not somebody else, cause that just wouldn’t be as fun

౨ৎ anyways from the moment you met him, you were like “oh yeah that’s my future boyfriend right there”

౨ৎ and yeah calm down just a little bit, but you also just knew, and you thanked your mother everyday for giving you this knowledge

౨ৎ but you were also pissed because holy shit, it took percy a while to come to terms with how he felt about you, even after saving you and becoming friends

౨ৎ but when i tell you how many times you made a move until he realized

౨ৎ you were very clear about your feelings, like you genuinely had nothing to hide

౨ৎ percy was extremely confused about the fact that you never dated anybody at all

౨ৎ and loads of people at camp clearly find you attractive and percy does, too, so when you were like “oh yeah i’ve never had a boyfriend before” he was as shocked as possible

౨ৎ because like, it’s you

౨ৎ and you’d think that would make it click that he had feelings for you

౨ৎ unfortunately. it did the opposite.

౨ৎ and that was kind of your last straw. you literally sat him down and explained your feelings to him and how you liked him ever since he saved you

౨ৎ THAT’S when he fully realized it

౨ৎ and it’s not cause he’s stupid (mischaracterized percy jackson they could never make me like you), it’s because it’s YOU. the pretty daughter of hera who a lot of people crushed on

౨ৎ you were practically a princess and percy took that so seriously, he found it so hard to believe that you liked him

౨ৎ after insisting that you really did like him, yippie that’s when y’all started dating !!

౨ৎ and when i tell you how much of a power couple you are. you two just radiate that kind of energy, even if someone didn’t know you were together

౨ৎ like you didn’t even need to tell anyone, everybody just. knew, and percy was stunned and he was like, they knew??? did you tell everyone???

౨ৎ and you were like no that’s just the power couple energy

౨ৎ when i tell you he worships the very ground you walk on I FUCKING MEAN IT. you know that one thing where a girl is singing on stage and her boyfriend is sobbing? that’s you two

౨ৎ if i or anyone else had to describe your relationship, it would be that

౨ৎ since your mother is the goddess of marriage, you were very clear about the fact that percy was the man you were to marry, and everybody just like. accepted it

౨ৎ even people who had current or previous crushes on you accepted that, mostly because you often referred to him as your husband like it was a regular thing

౨ৎ percy lets you do it every time and never corrects you, even calling you his wife sometimes.

౨ৎ listen you had your entire future with him planned. from the proposal (if he didn’t do it by age 22, you fucking would), to the wedding, to having kids, all that. he knew he could not stop you like he knew you were prepared

౨ৎ but percy still loved every minute of it, because the thought of marrying you, the love of his life, was just astonishing. he loves you just as much as he loves the thought of making you his wife, because it was you he would be marrying.

[moonmaiden1996]

Love at First Sight (According to Nagumo, Anyway) Part 2

I honestly didn't think this story would be as popular as it was. Here is part two. I love this man! Requests are open for him!

The bell above the door jingled as you stepped into Sakamoto’s convenience store for the second night in a row. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly, casting a dim glow over the aisles of instant noodles and neatly stacked snack packs. It was late, you were exhausted, and the only thing keeping you upright was the promise of caffeine.

What you didn’t expect was the man waiting for you like a lovesick puppy.

Nagumo was already there—this time perched cross-legged on the counter, juggling a few snack packs with the effortless grace of someone who had far too much energy for this hour. The motion was fluid, almost mesmerizing, but it all came to a screeching halt the moment he caught sight of you.

His entire face lit up like a firework.

“She’s back,” he breathed, voice dripping with awe, as if your mere presence had turned his world right-side up again. All at once, he lost control of his juggling act, snacks tumbling to the floor and rolling away unnoticed. In one smooth motion, he leapt off the counter, landing in front of you with the practiced ease of a man who had spent his life making grand entrances.

You blinked at him, unimpressed. “...Do I know you?”

Nagumo froze mid-smirk.

Behind him, Sakamoto let out a long-suffering sigh from his place behind the register, his expression screaming, why is this my life?

Nagumo, however, looked as if you had just physically struck him. His hand clutched his chest dramatically, eyes wide with betrayal. “You—” He pointed at himself. “Don’t remember me?”

Your gaze flickered over him. Messy hair, smug yet strangely charming grin, an energy that radiated mischief and unwavering confidence—none of it rang a bell. “No?”

Nagumo staggered back, gripping the counter for support as if he had taken a mortal wound. “No?” he echoed in disbelief.

Sakamoto rubbed his temples, not even bothering to look up. “She was exhausted last time. You probably didn’t leave much of an impression.”

Nagumo gasped, turning on him like he’d just been betrayed a second time. “How could I not leave an impression?!”

Sakamoto shrugged, utterly indifferent.

Nagumo turned back to you, determination blazing in his sharp eyes. “Okay, okay. Let’s fix this.” He smoothed out his jacket, took a deep breath, and then flashed you the most dazzling smile he could muster. It was the kind of smile that could sell you anything, the kind that dripped with charm and dangerous intent all at once.

“I’m Nagumo. Master of disguise, incredibly skilled assassin, and—most importantly—your future husband.”

You stared at him, then glanced at Sakamoto for confirmation. “He’s joking, right?”

Sakamoto didn’t even glance up. “I wish.”

Nagumo pouted, but there was an eager glint in his eyes, as if he found your skepticism utterly endearing. “Come on, don’t look at me like that. We had a moment yesterday.”

You squinted. “When?”

“When you spoke to me,” he said, as if that explained everything. “That word made me fall in love with you even more.”

“…Move?”

Nagumo sighed dreamily. “She said it again. My heart cannot take it.”

You exhaled sharply and stepped past him toward the fridge, your patience already wearing thin. “Listen, I’ve had a long day, I’m tired, and I just want my coffee. I can’t… I don’t… I want nothing to do with this.” You scrubbed your eyes tiredly. Maybe it wasn’t them; maybe you were hallucinating. That would make more sense than this…

Nagumo followed, utterly undeterred. “I can make your days better, you know. Imagine this: you wake up, and I’m already making breakfast—probably something impressive, like a perfect omelet. Followed by a back massage. Then, we go on a date. Maybe just the park. Maybe Paris. I’m flexible. I am very flexible, if you know what I mean.” His eyes wiggled frantically in front of your face.

You grabbed a can of coffee and shut the fridge door in his face.

“Not interested in you or how flexible you are.”

Nagumo gasped, reeling back as if you had just delivered a killing blow. He turned to Sakamoto, devastated. “She rejected me again.”

Sakamoto, unbothered, continued ringing up your drink. “You’re surprised? You’re being a creep.”

Nagumo turned back to you, his expression shifting from mock devastation to something more resolute. His amber eyes softened, but the mischief never fully left them. “That’s okay. I love a challenge.”

You groaned, trudging toward the register. “This is harassment.”

Nagumo grinned, trailing after you. “It’s romance.”

Sakamoto sighed, tapping the loudly beeping register. “Please stop encouraging him. ”

Nagumo placed a hand over his heart as if making a solemn vow. “I am but a humble man in love, Sakamoto. I will make her see how I am her perfect husband.”

You paid, took your drink, and turned toward the exit. “I’m leaving now.”

Nagumo leaned against the counter, watching you go with the kind of expression that belonged in a dramatic romance film. “See you tomorrow, my dear. I’ll be waiting! Your devoted husband-to-be…”

You didn’t even dignify that with a response.

The moment the door shut behind you, Nagumo exhaled sharply, slumping onto the counter. His fingers curled into his jacket as he stared at the door with an expression of pure longing.

“Man, she’s perfect.”

Sakamoto gave him a flat look. “You’re a disaster.”

Nagumo grinned, undeterred. “A romantic disaster.”

Outside, you cracked open the ice-cold coffee. “I gotta find a new convenience store. This one is full of weirdos. Assassin my ass.”

[thecharacterchronicler]

Please (Part 2) || Ominis Gaunt x Reader || Smut

Outline: After your arranged marriage and wedding night with Ominis, you found yourselves alone in the Gaunt house for a few days.

Word count: 2’840

Warnings: Explicit smut, pregnancy (mentions).

(May contain a few mistakes as English isn’t my first language.)

(( Part 1 - Bloodline )) - (( Part 3 - Heirloom )) - (( Masterlist ))

Ominis’ didn’t have much time after your engagement was announced to come up with a plan but he knew that the most important thing would be to keep you as far away as possible from his family after the wedding. He had thought about asking to settle with you in the Gaunts’ apartment in London or maybe in his family’s cottage by the beach but, as it turned out, it was his family that had decided to take their distances, probably because they wanted to facilitate the procreation of a heir.

His parents had left the manor for London only one day after your wedding, leaving you very little time to take the full measure of the Gaunt’s cruelty and darkness. As for Marvolo, he stayed elusive about where he was going to spend the next few days but what was important was that he was gone, far away from you.

With only you in the manor that he used to dread, Ominis slowly started thinking that it wasn’t so bad after all. The heavy atmosphere that usually weighted on his shoulders seemed a lot lighter now that you were around. Even his perpetual darkness had became somewhat lighter since you had been there with him, filling the house with piano melodies and laughters.

As per usual, he found you in the music room, your fingers practicing a tune that he knew by heart by now. He stood on the threshold for a moment, enjoying the melody and your presence. Even if he couldn’t see, the way the room radiated with warmth and light because you were in it made his heart swell.

For once in his life, Ominis was happy. Truly happy. Because you were there, shining a new light on everything he used to hate. Starting with that piano that his mother always forced him to play until his fingers hurt… Now everything he wanted was to sit next to you and play a duet along with you.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there.” Your voice said, as you stopped playing.

“Don’t mind me, I was just enjoying the music.”

He heard the air that left your lips every time you smiled so he smiled back at you, waiting for you to resume your tune but you didn’t, nervously fidgeting with your music sheet instead.

Ominis felt a pinch in his chest. He felt it a lot lately. It usually happened whenever he wondered if you were happy too. Because he was, and his only wish was that you felt it too. If you weren’t, then it meant you were feeling as trapped in this marriage than what you would have been if Marvolo had been your husband instead. Of course, Ominis would treat you better. He was your friend after all, your best friend. But he still couldn’t help but wonder sometimes who you would have chose to marry if you had had the freedom to decide for yourself. Sebastian ? Garreth ? Amit ? Even if the idea of you with another man made him sick with jealousy, he wouldn’t blame you if that was what you wanted. He sincerely wished you could have avoided a lifetime trapped with a Gaunt, even if it was him.

“I have a present for you.” He said, since you didn’t seem to want to play the piano anymore. He walked in your direction, stopping precisely close to the bench you were sitting on. His hand disappeared in the pocket of his vest, retrieving a small black box from it.

“You shouldn’t have.” You started, but your breath caught in your throat when he opened the box to reveal a beautiful gold ring, with a stone as black as a starless night on it. You traced a finger on the symbols engraved on the gem, feeling a powerful energy buzzing from it.

“It’s a family heirloom.” Ominis explained, as you were about to ask. “With a pretty ancient coat of arms engraved on it. I’ve been told my ancestor got it made for the woman he loved… It always gave me hope that maybe, some Gaunts are capable of love after all.”

“It’s truly beautiful.”

“It’s yours.” He took the ring out of the box, outstretching a hand in your direction. You placed your hand in his and he slowly slided the jewel on your ring finger. It fitted you perfectly, as if it had been made for you.

“I’m honored, thank you.” He heard you stand up from your seat, feeling you suddenly very close to him. Then, your soft lips pressed a kiss on his cheek, sending a wave of adrenaline through his body. “We haven’t really talked since our wedding night… Maybe we should.”

“What would you like to talk about ?”

“Our… marital duties ?” You said, a blush creeping up to your cheeks.

“Ah. That.” Ominis breathed, equally turning crimson.

“Your mother told me that I must birth an heir by the end of the year… But I wanted to know what you want.” You explained, your tone nervous.

“I want this bloodline to die with me.” He said, with no hesitation. Then, he realized that maybe, it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. “I apologize if you were hoping to have children but I do not wish to bring another Gaunt into the world.”

“I understand…” You said, softly, but he could tell something was bothering you. “I suppose I’m better off having no children than being forced by my husband to birth more babies than what my body could endure.”

Ominis took a deep breath. In other circumstances, maybe he would have wanted this. Especially with you. But he swore to himself a long time ago that he would never provide another child for his family to torture until they could turn him or her into a monster like them.

“If you wish to see Sebastian, or another man, I won’t stop you but I need you to be careful to not accidentally get pregnant.” He said it as stoically as he could, wanting to seem impassible so that you wouldn’t know how it consumed him with jealousy to imagine you with someone else. But he would survive it if it might make you happy.

“What ? You think I want to be with Sebastian ?” You asked him, incredulous. “Do you want to be with someone else ?”

“I don’t think so.” He replied. “I don’t really care for such things…”

“Oh. I see.” You said, and maybe he should have been clearer to avoid hearing such disappointment in your tone. He didn’t really care for such things because all he cared about was you. Since 5th year, the only person he ever imagined being intimate with was you. And if he couldn’t have you, then he wouldn’t have anyone else. “I’m sorry if last time was terrible, it was my first time. Maybe with some practice I could get better at it.”

“You… Want to practice ?” He repeated, unsure of what you meant.

“Yes ? Maybe you could tell me exactly what to do to please you.” You suggested, causing very inappropriate ideas to flash in his mind. You couldn’t be serious. “I’m eager to learn if you are willing to teach me.”

In the few days you had spent alone in the manor, after your wedding, you had talked to him as you always did, like a friend. Not once did it sound like you regretted what you had done on your wedding night but you also didn’t seem to plan on doing it again. You were back at being friends and, with his family away from the manor, Ominis had decided to respect this by sleeping in the living room instead of sharing a bed with you.

So hearing that you were, in fact, not opposed to consume your wedding again left him slightly dumbstruck for a moment. Were you doing this because his mother had instructed you to ? Because his parents - or yours - had threatened to hurt you if you didn’t produce an heir quickly ? Or could it be possible that you just wanted him ?

“Please, Ominis.” You begged, quietly. You stepped closer and planted a wet kiss in the crook of his neck, causing him to take a sharp inhale of air.

There you were, asking him again so nicely and politely for something that he was dying to give you. He knew by now that he didn’t have the willpower to ever refuse you anything at all, whatever you wanted, he would give you. No questioning, no hesitation, all you had to do was say please in that agonizingly desirable tone of yours and he would grant you everything you asked for.

His arms closed around your waist, pulling you against him into a feverish kiss. You left out a breath of relief against his lips, making him kiss you even harder in return. For the past few nights, he had laid awake on the couch, thinking about the curves and dips of your body, the way he had traced them and memorized them, forming the most detailed idea of what your body looked like in his mind, after all these years during which he barely dared touch you.

He put so much strength into his kisses that the pressure of his body against yours forced you to take a few steps back. He followed each one, until you could no longer retreat, your back pressed against the imposing piano behind you.

“Sit down.” He instructed you, but he left you no time to do it, lifting you up and sitting you on the keyboard, unpleasant notes played all together resounding in the room under your weight.

He fell to his knees in front of you, his hands reaching to your legs and slowly moving upwards, scrunching up the fabric of your skirt in the process until it was all the way up to your hips. He tugged on your underwear and you moved to help him remove them, once again causing a few notes of music to fill the air between you.

“What should I do ?” You asked him, the uncertainty in your voice making him grin.

“Nothing at all.” He replied, leaning forward to bury his face between your thighs. You gasped as soon as you felt his tongue between your folds, tasting you in a way you didn’t think possible.

“But…” You started, but interrupted yourself to catch your breath, your head swimming from the pleasure his tongue swirling around your sensitive clit provoked inside your body. “I want to learn how to please you.”

“This is pleasing me.” He assured you, because it really did. He had always wondered what you tasted like, and what sounds would come out of your mouth if he licked you down there. He was indulging into one of his wildest fantasies about you and nothing could have pleased him more at that very moment.

“Ominis…” You breathed, wanting to argue but moaning instead. With his hands gripping each of your thighs to ensure they were as far apart as they could be to grant him access and his tongue unrelenting in the way it explored the walls of your pussy, you couldn’t help but give in, closing your eyes and pressing your back against the piano, biting your lip to silence another moan.

When he pushed his tongue passed your entrance, your hand fell by your side, pressing a few keys in the process which made you jump but didn’t seem to phase him the least, maybe because your thighs were muffling every sound in his ears, apart from your delicious cries of pleasure. You put your hand on his head, fingers messing up his neat hairstyle to pull him even closer, wanting him deeper. So much deeper.

“I need you.” You managed to tell him, even though your body was trembling in bliss. “Please.”

He groaned against your folds, eyes closed. He needed you too, his cock was swollen in his pants, wanting nothing more than to be freed and shoved inside you for relief.

Maybe if he was very careful…

His mouth left your core and he wiped his lips with the back of his hand as you kept panting, perched on the piano. He knew it must be a lovely sight to see, you flushed from the pleasure he had given you and your legs spread open for him, your folds coated in his saliva and your own deliciously sweet arousal.

He stood up, opening his pants to free the erection so desperate to be inside you again. He heard how you quietly gasped as he pulled his hard length out, shuddering with excitement. He leaned down to kiss you, wondering if you could taste yourself on his lips and, as you attempted to catch your breath, he flipped you over, bringing your feet back to the ground and your hands slamming the piano keys in a abrupt melody once again.

He had to pull your skirt up to your hips again, exposing your round ass to him. He traced the contour of that part of you he had yet to discover, his fingers digging in the tender flesh a few times as if wanting to take the full measure of what it looked like. And, once his curiosity satisfied and the feeling stored in his memory, he aligned his cock with your entrance and pushed it in, slowly.

He had expected to find a resistance there, as he had last time, but his cock gently slided all the way inside you without you making a single sound of pain or discomfort. He left out a breath, loving how warm and tight you felt around him. He enjoyed it all the more knowing that he was welcome there, your wetness making it easy for him to bury himself inside you all the way until his hips were squeezed against your ass.

You felt incredible.

So good in fact that he struggled to control himself, wanting to thrust in and out of you so hard until he could be satisfied but he was determined to be a gentleman. Instead of the rough shoves he craved, he rocked himself back and forth painfully slowly, earning some lovely sounding moans and whimpers out of you as a reward for behaving.

It felt as if you were getting tighter the more you were crying out in pleasure and he knew he wouldn’t be able to take it much longer. He had came inside you last time, because it was your first time and he wanted to do things the traditional way. He took your virginity which you were willing to give him now that he was your husband. And he gave you his too, even though it felt a lot more insignificant in comparison. He had spilled his release inside you, to mark you as his, to forever be the first one to ever do it. But he wouldn’t do it again, the risk was too great to take.

He had to be cautious.

He pushed himself forward with more strength than what he had meant to use, making the piano sound again under your shifting weight. You bounced back against him, making him hit so deep inside that you loudly moaned, body tensing as violently as your pussy tightened around his cock, momentarily trapping him inside you and violently pulsating all around him, trying to get him to fill you up as he naturally should. And he almost did. It felt so good, way too good to resist…

He managed to pull out just in time for his release to splash out of him, warm drops landing on your ass and thighs. He breathed loudly, cock twitching in his hand as he emptied all of his pant up desire for you that he had fought against in the past few days. The quantity only rivaling the intensity of the pleasure he felt.

He didn’t notice you move, too busy enjoying his climax so he jumped slightly when he felt your lips around the tip of his still hard cock, your tongue licking the pink flesh with delight.

“Wh-What are you doing ?” He asked, breathing ragged. He had to lean forward and rest his hands on the piano to keep his balance, the sensitivity of his cock heightened after the strong orgasm he had.

“I wanted a taste too.” You admitted, licking each side of his shaft with care. He closed his eyes, a groan escaping from his lips as your tongue collected the salty wetness that coated his length.

He cursed and another load of his release filled your mouth, his body trembling and his head swimming in bliss. You sucked every drop out of him and swallowed it all, as he sat down on the piano chair with a dizzy expression on his face, struggling to catch his breath.

You allowed him a few minutes before you rose up from your knees to kiss him, gently pressing your hand against his racing heart. He kissed you back, tenderly, as his fingers caressed yours, contouring the new ring on your finger.

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

Previously in this series;

Next in this series;

[taevjim]

Romancing the Viscount (m) 18+

♞ ♞

-Disclaimer: This AU is inspired by Bridgerton. I do realize a viscount is a British nobleman, but for the sake of the AU, we are going to use our imagination xoxo

♞ ♞

-Summary: For three seasons now, you had yet to have any marriage proposals under your belt. It was depressing to say the least. You have come into society as a blossomed young woman, ready for marriage, but no man of the ton has seemed the slightest bit interested in you. You’re on year three of being let off your leash into society and the pressure was certainly on for you to find a husband. You were beautiful, charming, and had incredible wit; anyone would be dying to have your hand in marriage. What could possibly be taking so long? Perhaps a viscount has had his eyes set on you all along and he’s the reason you have yet to be wed.

-Pairing: viscount!jungkook x female reader

-Genre: smut, smut, and more smut.

♞ ♞ ♞

The day started off fairly promising with the pure energy that radiated from you as you rose from the cotton sheets which kept you company at night, aiding you a good night’s rest. Your feet touch the cold floor and you spring to action as you skip across your room, your baby blue night gown trailing through the air behind you at your rushed pace. Excitement crept through your bones down to your core with the thought of tonight’s seasonal ball. Of course you had plenty of balls to attend to throughout the season, but the first ball of the season was always the most important, as well as the most promising.

Although you were gleaming with excitement, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as well. Maybe even a bit discouraged. This would be your third season out into society and you couldn’t help but wonder if you would find the man of your dreams in the near future. A girl can only hope. Many young women have had no problems snagging a husband on their FIRST year of their debut into society, so what could you be doing wrong? Surely there was nothing wrong with you, at-least you didn’t think there was.

Your reflection in the vanity mirror stares back at you as you run your nimble fingers across the soft, supple flesh of your cheek.

“Is it my looks?” You ask yourself, barely above a whisper.

The characteristics of your looks were actually quite simple. You had rather large, round eyes with perfectly curled lashes to frame the lids. A cute button nose and incredibly soft cheeks which always seemed to have a hint of pink undertones to your rather fair complexion. You were also adorned with an exceptionally full figure, making you curvy in all the right places. Never mind the fact that these characteristics didn’t exactly make you unique; you were still deemed one of the most beautiful women of the ton.

Yet, still no husband.

Perhaps you were beginning to feel a bit impatient. Of course you were. What were you to do if you go through yet another season with no man on your arm? God forbid you end up as a spinster, which might be your fate if you don’t find any eligible bachelors soon.

There were quite a few bachelors who you have set your endearing gaze upon, but unfortunately none of them have ever given you more than just a couple of minutes of sub par conversation. With questions ranging from the weather to who you think the queen’s next ‘Diamond’ will be. You’re always polite and proper, speaking with purpose and clarity. You’ve never seemed to have trouble charming your way through a crowd. You’ll never understand what the hold up could be.

Surely you should’ve at-least had ONE proposal by now, but as luck has it, it’s not necessarily on your side as of late.

Your maid rushes through the double doors of your chambers, preparing to wake you before her eyes land on you across the room while you sit at your vanity.

“Well you’re up quite early, I see.” She smiles and strides over to open the curtains to the windows, letting in the bright rays of sunlight into the four walls of your bedroom.

“Today is the first official day of the season. If I’m going to find a husband, I need to make sure I am on my toes at all times and prepared for anything,” you say as you gently pat a small dab of foundation into your skin.

Dana, your maid, gives an approving nod and walks over to begin taking the pins from your hair, allowing your curls to bounce out from their confinements and take their place down the slope of your back. You made sure to pin your hair in rollers the night before so that you could have the most perfect curls. She begins running her fingers through the softness of your locks, carefully moving the pieces of hair into their rightful positions.

Effortlessly beautiful. Exactly the look you were going for.

You put the finishing touches onto your makeup, having gone for a subtle natural appearance, and stand to finally begin ridding yourself of your nightgown.

“You’re going to do just fine this season,” Dana says as she helps you into your corset. “Don’t forget that you are absolutely gorgeous.”

The corners of your lips raise at her compliment and you turn to her with your hands clutching your chest. “You’re too kind. I appreciate the work you put into making me look so good.”

She lets out a giggle and slightly shakes her head, the front two pieces of her baby hairs swinging at the sudden movement. “Don’t be silly,” she begins, “You already have all the right qualities.” Her words pierce into your mind, almost reminding you that you should have nothing to worry about.

Almost.

She helps you into a simple baby pink gown that seems to hug your curves in all the right places. The corset is definitely working wonders on you, not that you needed to rely on it too terribly. You grab a scarf and carefully drape it behind your shoulders and across your forearms, deeming yourself ready for the day.

First stop was to go by the modiste for a fitting of your dress you would be wearing for tonight’s ball. You wanted to make sure everything would be perfect for tonight, which would hopefully grant you the success you’ve been chasing since two seasons ago.

As hoped but also a bit expected, your fitting goes by swimmingly. Madam Claire, the most trusted modiste within miles, did an exceptional job on capturing exactly what you envisioned for your gown. It was a dark blue with a suede bodice and sleeves made of silk, enveloping your arms all the way down to your small but perfectly manicured hands. The bottom portion of your dress was also silk and although it was slightly puffy, it was still quite slimming, small crystals adorned the fabric across the entirety of the material.

It was absolutely breathtaking.

“Oh Claire,” you gush as you do a 360 spin, your eyes only leaving your reflection in the mirror for not even half a second, “It’s everything I’ve imagined. If I do happen to be blessed to become a bride this season it’ll surely all be thanks to you.”

A slight blush creeps onto her tanned cheeks and she playfully waves a hand at you, “Oh stop it. This dress wouldn’t even look half as good if it weren’t you who were wearing it.”

The smile never leaves your face as you embrace her into a quick, but comforting hug. “Thank you so much Claire. You’re the absolute best,” you thank her and quickly undress to change back into your previous dress.

You decide to pass a bit of time as you make your way back down the street, finding a bench up ahead to sit and catch up a bit on your new book. You quite liked reading. The way words can be put together to create something beautiful was a talent that would always be incredibly admired by you. It was the way that it didn’t matter where you were, for once you picked up your book and started reading, you could imagine yourself being there in the story. Almost as if the words came alive right before your eyes.

You’ve been told by a countless number of mamas of the ton that the reason you didn’t have a husband yet was because of the fact you couldn’t keep your nose out of a book. Often being told not to “taint yourself” with such a boring and time consuming activity.

However, that never stopped you from opening a book and becoming one with the words on the page. It was like it was an addiction. An addiction you never wanted to ween yourself off of. People didn’t seem to understand the want of a woman to read, but you were never confused with the activity. You simply enjoyed it. You had even taken up quite a hobby of your own by writing in your journal every other night, explaining in utter detail of what you wanted most out of this life. Perhaps writing it down on paper helped give you the hope of it actually becoming true.

Your attention was suddenly torn away from your book as you lift your head to the sounds of women giggling a bit too loud for your liking across the street.

A group of four women stand before a man as they flutter their lashes and wave their fans inches away from their bosoms. The man in question was none other than Viscount Jeon.

He was a man of great fortune and even greater integrity. His confidence radiating from him like fumes from a flame as he chuckled at the flirting women. Viscount Jeon was definitely the man every young woman wanted on their arm, regardless of his reputation being a class A rake. Not to mention, he was drop dead gorgeous.

From where you sat, you slightly saw his side profile, and boy was it a sight. Of course you’ve seen the Viscount plenty of times, mainly at a ball being thrown, but sometimes around the square. It wasn’t hard to admit that you would never get tired of seeing him. His shoulders looked deliciously broad from where you were sitting and you quickly realized your interest for your book carefully slipped away the moment your eyes landed on his figure. A quite lean and very muscular figure, at that.

You subtly watch as the man converses with the women, making them swoon at almost every word that leaves his enchanting lips. Your eyes trace his figure, taking in the expensive material of dress he wore on his back. His coat cinched around his waist almost too perfectly, making him all the more irresistible. You catch the sight of his rings around his beautifully thick, creamy toned fingers, and let out a disappointed sigh as he moves to shove his hand into the pocket of his perfectly fitted breeches.

Embarrassment quickly replaces your neediness as two mamas pass by you, following your entranced gaze over to the Viscount. You had been caught staring. Although you weren’t caught by the Viscount himself, you still felt your cheeks get hot as you were visibly noticed practically drooling over the man.

You let out a huff of air and stand to your feet, deciding you should head back home to start getting ready for the ball.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the way the Viscount’s eyes locked onto you as he spotted you crossing the street. He has stolen many glances at you over the past couple years every-time he’s seen you. You were beautiful, that much he knew. He also knew that your debut into society wasn’t the most successful as you still hadn’t managed to find a husband which happened to be from his doing. He has never even spoken to you once but he knew the moment he laid his eyes upon you, he had to have you, and he made quick work of letting every man of the ton know that you were off limits. You, however, had no idea that was the case of your suffering fate and he didn’t plan on telling you about it either.

♞ ♞ ♞

You watch the trees go by and listen to the sounds of the horse's hooves hitting the ground while you make your way to the ball in your carriage. The leaves were a beautiful green and the grass even greener and it made you smile. You always appreciated nature and how magical everything seemed to look whenever a new season had approached. In your gut you had hoped tonight would be the night you get to meet your future husband, as you were starting to grow very tired of waiting.

A sigh escapes your lips and you look down into your lap, suddenly very interested in watching the way your fingers toyed with the material of your dress. If you manage to fail yet another season, you might just give up. You looked exceptionally beautiful tonight, even you could admit. Dana sits across from you as she watches you silently battle yourself inside your own head.

She reaches forward and places one of her hands over your fidgeting fingers and says, "You will do amazing tonight. Don't worry yourself so much, you'll create wrinkles on your forehead."

You send a gentle smile her way and caress her hands into your own. Dana had always encouraged you no matter the day or the task at hand. She was so supportive of you, never faltering. You suppose it was because it was her job, but you and Dana had grown rightfully close over the years of her taking care of you. With your mother passing at a young age and your father going over seas, Dana was all you had. You couldn't feel more grateful.

"What will i do?" you ask, "If I don't find a husband surely I'll be ruined."

She frowns at the sight of you shutting down. Truthfully, Dana couldn't quite understand how you still haven't managed to wed since your debut. There was no gossip going around of you that would potentially scare any suitors away. Your looks were most definitely not the problem, as you were incredibly beautiful, even more beautiful than most ladies she had worked for in the past. In truth, she was just as confused as you were.

"Don't talk that way. You will find a husband, I'm sure of it. You are beautiful, smart, witty, and selfless. This season will be your season." She holds both of your hands into her own and her words make you smile. You trusted her with your life and she always saw the good in you. She knew the potential you had to become successful.

Now it was just you who needed to see it in yourself.

The carriage suddenly comes to a stop before the palace and your eyes sparkle as you take in the scenery. The hedges around the property were trimmed perfectly and the lights that shined around the palace twinkled in the most captivating way. You watch as a few ladies make their way inside, fans in hand. The goal for you tonight was to shine and continue to be the one thing you ever knew how to be, which was yourself.

"Go," Dana shoos you out of the carriage and gives you another look before sending you on your way. She moves a couple strands of hair that managed to fall out of place and smiles, "Perfection."

You wave to her as you begin to make your way to the entrance, your nerves suddenly making another appearance inside of your gut. You fix your posture as you started to slouch and you carefully run your fingers across the material of your dress, trying to rid the perspiration that managed to build up because of your nerves. Taking a deep breath, you begin to make your way inside.

Your eyes take in all of the pictures that hang the walls of the hallway. It's almost like you had never been here before, although you have a couple times in the past. The first ball of the season was always held at the Queen's palace, and the Queen made sure to keep it exceedingly presentable. You stop before one picture that catches your eyes above the rest. It was a picture of the Queen and her King when they were younger. She wore the most grand gown in the photo, as she always does, and King George stood beside her in all his gory. They looked proud and emanated power as they both stared into your soul. Oh how you longed to find a love like the Queen had.

"Are you not going to go inside?"

Your head whipped to the side as you curiously look to see who was speaking to you.

It was the Viscount.

You quickly bow, not wanting to seem disrespectful. "Lord Jeon, how lovely to see you."

His eyes never leave you, not even for a second. He takes you in from your head down to your toes, as if his eyes were drawing a map across your form. You always managed to clean up very nicely, from styling your hair into the most perfect way to picking the most gorgeous gown.

You began to feel rather small under his stare, nervously switching your weight from one foot to the other. At his delayed response, you begin taking him in as well. His waist coat fit his muscular body like a glove and his breeches, even more fitting. You could almost make out the shape of his body through the fabric, your eyes trailing the material. What a man the Viscount was. You look back up to his face, finding him already staring at you, and a blush creeps up to your cheeks.

"No escort?" he asks as he looks around the, now empty, hall. It seems everyone has already made their way into the ballroom.

"Oh, no. I don't ever have anyone to escort me to these sort of things," you let out a breathy chuckle and clasp your hands together for what seemed to be the tenth time tonight already.

A small smirk edges it's way onto his beautiful lips and he holds his arm out to you. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

Was the Viscount really offering to escort you into the ballroom? Surely he wouldn't want to be seen with a woman such as yourself, as you've had not a single suitor in the past two years. A man of such status would never.

However, he was the Viscount, and you would be absolutely insane if you didn't take him up on the offer.

You carefully outstretch your arm and rest your fingers into the crease of his elbow, allowing him to lead the two of you to the ballroom entrance. Your nerves seemed to spike even more now, causing you to slightly squeeze his arm. He notices the action and looks down to you, watching as your eyes bounce from one edge of the room to the other. With his other hand, he reaches over and allows it to rest on yours. This action causing your gaze to snap up to him.

"No need to be nervous. I got you." Your eyes fall to his lips as he utters the words and oh how perfect they looked as he attempted to comfort you, which had worked, by the way.

You give a curt nod and a tight lipped smile and allow him to escort you through the entrance.

Upon entry, everyone stopped their conversation and allowed their eyes to fall at the head of the room where you and Lord Jeon stood. You hear the whispers immediately from the mamas and their daughters as they wonder how you, a woman with no suitors and three seasons deep into society with not a single marriage proposal, had the Viscount on your arm.

You had to admit, you felt pretty powerful. Not that him escorting you to the ball meant anything. Perhaps he was just being nice, but you surly were not going to complain.

He leads you down the grand staircase and you make sure to try and watch your step so you don't happen to fall and embarrass yourself even more to the people who so clearly wanted to watch you fail. Your fingers tighten against his muscle once again as the two of you reach the bottom and begin taking in all the eyes that were now on the two of you. Had you been dreaming?

He doesn't make an effort to part from you, instead, he leads you over to the refreshments table and hands you a small glass of lemonade. He must have thought you were thirsty from the nerves attacking your body from the inside, which he would be right. You grab the glass and take a sip, instantly feeling a bit better. A massive sum of the people around you were still staring, but it seemed as most begin to indulge into their own conversations and even taking to the dancefloor.

A couple of women make their way to you, their fans in hand and their lashes fluttering in the Viscount's direction. You wanted to roll your eyes but stop yourself because in all honesty, you couldn't really blame them.

"Lord Jeon," one gushes as she bows before him, furiously fanning her bosom when she stands to meet his gaze. "What a lovely ball, don't you agree?"

You figured that maybe you should leave his presence and allow him to converse with the women, however, you feel his arm flex and tighten around your fingers just as you were about to let go. In turn, you decide to stay in place and you flash a fake smile to the woman before you.

"Oh," she says in a startling manner, "I didn't see you there Miss." You wanted to scowl at her for her very obvious condescending tone , yet decided against it because you were the one with the man she wanted at your side. It made you feel quite victorious in a way.

Alas, as soon as her attention was on you, it was gone in a second and back onto the Viscount. "Would you care to dance?" she asks, so shamelessly holding her hand out to him.

He gives her a warm smile and tugs you slightly closer into his side, "Pardon me, but I was actually about to ask Miss Y/L/N if she would like to join me on the floor." He looks down at you now, you not quite registering his advance just yet. You only look up to him when you see the woman in front of you shoot a venomous glare upon you.

"Of course," you say, barely above a whisper. You wanted to laugh in her face and maybe even throw an unpleasant gesture her way, but in turn you make the decision to be as graceful as you can in the matter. You turn to set your half empty glass of lemonade on the table behind you and allow him to lead you onto the floor.

If everyone was staring at you before, they surly were now as the two of you take your places into the center of the room and begin to dance. It was apparent to the Viscount that everyone in this room was envious of you, although you weren't aware. He knew every man wanted to have you and every woman wanted to be you. He couldn't blame you too much for your lack of observation because in your defense, no man had approached you for anything more than small conversation, too afraid of what the Viscount may do had they made an advances onto you.

"You must pity me." The words come out before you can stop them and you let out a small laugh. He ticks his head to the side, very obviously confused with your comment.

"Pity?" he questions. "Why would I pity you?" he follows up with another question just as he slightly spins you, pulling you in again.

It took you a bit off guard with the close proximity between the two of you being incredibly evident. You look up at him through your lashes and let out a small sigh. "Lord Jeon," you begin. "I just want you to know that you don't have to feel bad for me. I may not be able to get a husband but it doesn't mean I need you to try and help me."

Now it was his turn to be slightly taken off guard. You thought he was only being in your presence so that he could bring more attention towards you, in turn, helping you find a husband. You become quite nervous at his silence and the way he just stared at you, still dancing without missing a beat.

"You think I'm only dancing with you to help you find a husband?" he asks, spinning you another time. Your eyes drift slightly to the outskirts of the dancefloor, noticing how everyone was watching the two of you. Quite a few faces of disapproval look back at you and those of admiration aimed at the Viscount. Of course they were only interested because he was here.

"Is that not what you're doing?" you ask as you turn back to look at him. You were slightly surprised to see the longing in his eyes as he stared back at you. How could you possibly think he was only interested in helping you? How could you not know how beautiful you were, how the room went completely stiff upon your entrance? And now as everyone stops and watches the two of you dance together, you still think you aren't good enough to be looked at.

He shakes his head at your question and slightly dips you. Your breath quickens, as does his at the sight of your hair completely separating from your shoulders and fully exposing the expansion of your chest. Your bodice fit your body to perfection and in this moment it proved much more evident from what he observed upon first glance of you out in the hall.

You're picked back up into his arms in a rather slower pace than you expected, now rising to see his eyes buried into your skin even deeper than they were before. It's crazy how one can have such a way with words solely based of their eyes alone. His eyes spoke more than his mouth ever has, at-least to you, and it took your breath away. You can't help but just stare back, practically feeling yourself getting lost.

Unexpectedly, he leans closer and in a whisper he speaks, "You're entirely too beautiful to be pitied."

His words were soft and kind, and everything you didn't know you longed to hear from someone else. You certainly didn't expect them to come from a man of his rank. For a moment you don't know what to say and you don't catch the smirk that inches onto his face as he gently pulls you from the dance floor, you not realizing the song ended.

Among the next hour that passes, you and the Viscount fall into effortless conversation. He tells you of his travels and many successes in his life. He also tells you his name, Jungkook. You would never call him by his name, of course, but the fact he even felt comfortable enough to tell you raised a certain spark inside of you. You learned that he's kind, smart, and also quite funny. He had you giggling more times than you can count at his quick wit and charming playfulness. He also learned quite a bit about you, that you love to read, you liked to take your horse out to the field and enjoy fresh air and nature in general. You also shared his trait of being goofy and playful as the two of you threw jokes at each other here and there throughout the night. The biggest thing he learned was that your giggle was a sound that he truly felt blessed to be able to hear, causing him to not be able to stop coaxing that sound from you with his words. He wanted to draw that sound from you all night, never wanting it to leave his head even for a second.

A couple more hours pass and you were so embedded into your conversations with Jungkook that you didn't realize the ball was coming to an end and people began spilling out of the ballroom. Jungkook watches as your curious eyes sweep across the room and observe everyone as they ascend back up the stairs and out into the hall.

You turn your head back to Jungkook, once again catching him already looking at you, and you nudge your head towards the exit, "I think it's time the night has come to an end."

"It doesn't have to end though," he blurts and your eyes slightly widen. You try to process what he means by that as he grabs your hand into his and leads you both out of the room.

As you make your way outside you instantly notice how chilly the air has become, feeling the way it slightly licks at your skin, leaving goosebumps in it's wake. Jungkook notices and inches closer toward you, hoping he can radiate some body heat your way.

"That's my carriage," he says and points to an elegant looking black carriage pulling up to stop in front of the two of you. How would it look for you to be getting in his carriage with him at the end of the night? You look around you, watching to see if anyone notices. Everyone already looked down upon you as it is, so how would they react if they noticed you riding away with their lovely Viscount?

You feel a hand at the small of your back, slightly causing you to jump when you realize Jungkook is carefully pushing you towards the carriage for you to get in. Damn what the ton thinks, you think to yourself. You were certain Jungkook wouldn't put you in a position to have you under such scrutiny. You hardly knew him but you trusted him.

He slightly gulps as he catches sight of the stockings you wore as you lift your dress a little to climb up into the carriage. It made his body shudder as he was confronted with the pure want and need he had towards you, and yet you were all the more oblivious. He knew he wouldn't be able to get that image out of his head for quite some time.

He climbs in after you, settling into the seat across from you and instructed his driver to take the two of you to the nearest park. Before you can question him, you stop as you notice the sheepish look on his face before he spoke, "I thought we could sit and talk a bit more."

You smile at his words and give a small nod, yet you find it hard to look away from him. Usually you loved to watch as the trees passed by while you rode, enjoying and taking in the nature around you, but you simply couldn't tear your gaze away from him. Evidently he couldn't either, his eyes boring into yours with a sort of intensity.

One minute he's sheepishly smiling at you like a boy being caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and the next he's looking at you like he wants to tear your clothes off in that very moment. Admittedly, it makes your head spin. You slightly adjust in your seat and his eyes snap down at the movement. He felt as if there was a fog in his head, weighing down so heavily that he couldn't think straight when looking at you.

"Thank you for being by my side tonight. It was quite unexpected but I very much enjoyed it," you said, trying to break the ice and the staring contest between the two of you.

He gives you a boyish smile and nods in agreement. "It was very nice," he states, "I wouldn't have wanted to spend my time with anyone else."

His words take you back slightly. He didn't even know you, and to be quite fair, he has never really showed an interest in you before, so why now?

"Why tonight?" you ask, your judgement getting the best of you and causing you to blurt the question before you can think twice.

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks into your eyes, into your soul. "I know it must be a surprise that I've shown up out of nowhere tonight, but to be honest, I've had my eye on you since you first debuted into society."

Now his words really caught you off guard.

You shake your head in confusion and lean forward yourself. "What does that even mean?" you ask, "You've had your eye on me for two years yet never spoken a word to me. Why?"

He can't really give you the answer that you deserve when it came to that kind of question. He really didn't even know the answer to it himself. He knew he always wanted you but he never found the right time to make it clear to you.

"My duty as a Viscount has kept me very busy these last few years. I haven't been Viscount for very long so when that role was passed down to me, I had quite a few tasks thrown at me, on top of my journey's to other countries. I couldn't find the right time to talk to you." You slightly squint your eyes at his confession, still not fully grasping the fact of why he never once acted on the way he's telling you that he's felt for quite some time.

On the other hand, you were confused how he even had an interest towards you at all. You always thought the men were repulsed by you, hence the fact you were still unmarried, not even being courted by any of the men of the ton.

"I'm just confused," you start, "I've only seen you a few times and in those times I've seen you, you've never once noticed me."

You begin to feel nervous under his intense gaze, not being able to read the emotion that currently flashes in his eyes. "Not that you've noticed," he admits, "I've seen you many times and trust me when i say, I can't help but notice you when you are near."

He slightly scoots closer, carefully grabbing your slightly shaky hands to hold into his own. The feeling you have when he's so close or when he's looking at you the way he is, is a feeling you can't describe, but it's also a feeling that you don't want to stop feeling. Ever.

You look down into your lap where your hands are connected and smile at the way his thumb caresses your skin, "I thought all of the men around here were repulsed by me." You look up and meet his confused stare.

"How can you believe such a thing? You are absolutely one of the most beautiful women I've ever laid my sights upon," your breath hitches as his hand comes to cup the side of your face, his pinky finger tracing down the skin of your neck so gently, "I knew when I saw you that I needed to have you." The last sentence comes from his lips in a whisper and you almost feel as though you are in a trance, just staring into his eyes, not able to notice how close he has managed to get to you now.

Is this a dream?, you wonder.

Out of everything that has happened to you over the past couple years, including tonight, you knew only one thing. You wanted the Viscount. You wanted him more than anything you've ever wanted in your life and now that he's right in front of you, sitting so close you can feel his breath tickling your skin, you didn't care if it had been a dream. You suppose there's only one way to find out if you truly are just dreaming.

You lean forward a couple more inches and plant your lips onto Jungkook's, instantly sighing at the sweet taste of him. He wastes no time in kissing you back, reaching up to grip both sides of your face with his hands. Turning your head slightly, he gains more access to your mouth and can't help but run his tongue across your lips, almost begging you for entry, which you grant to him with no hesitation. He kisses you as if his life depends on it and you realize you've never felt so euphoric in your entire life until this very moment. You pull away suddenly and only now you notice how he has sunken to his knees before you, looking up at you as he anticipates your next move.

You've always loved looking at the man before you, even if you never noticed him looking back. You've always dreamed of the day you got to run your fingers through his silky hair-

Giving into your thoughts, you reach up and slowly bury your fingers into the tresses of his black locks, meeting his gaze half way as his eyes bore into yours, almost pleading you. This was the second time tonight that Jungkook has made you feel so powerful. The feeling was addicting.

You run your fingers through his hair and rest your hand on the back of his head, biting your lip at the sight of him so vulnerable before you. He groans and rushes in to push his lips against yours with a force that has your back resting against the seat now. He never lets up, kissing you as if he's scared you'll be pulled from his embrace any moment now. Goosebumps rise on your skin a second time tonight as his fingers inch across your collarbone and carefully push your dress down your shoulder.

He pulls away and almost whines at the sight of your skin becoming more exposed to his eyes. Who knew he would be so hard at the sight of a woman's shoulder, for Christ's sake. You didn't quite realize the affect you had on the Viscount just yet, but he intended on showing you.

As fast as he pulled away, he leans back in even faster, attaching his lips to the underside of your chin. His lips move across your skin with such fever, it practically makes your head almost spin of your shoulders. You've never felt such...bliss, and he was barely even touching you.

Almost as if he read your mind, his hand slowly travels down to your ankle, pressing his fingers against your skin, before his hand disappears under your dress and dances up your leg. The softness in which he touched your skin left a fire in it's wake, making you slightly shake in excitement. He gives a warm smile at your reaction, indulging in the sounds your heavy breathes make. He watches the way your chest rises furiously, suppressing a groan at the perfect sight that was you.

He gives a questioning look as his fingers reach the inside of your thigh and he doesn't even need to ask before you're already nodding your head, looking at him pleadingly, which further drives him even more mad for you. Your small hands grip the expanse of his broad shoulders, the same ones you were drooling over earlier in the day, and your head leans back, the feeling of his fingers ghostly dancing over the material of your undergarments. His lips finally press against yours once again as he firmly presses his fingers against you, drawing the most beautiful sound from your throat.

It was hard for him to believe how warm and soft you felt against his rough fingers. He presses his fingers even further against you, becoming addicted to the way you felt under his touch. In turn, more noises were drawn from you and he knew he would never get tired of the way you sounded. He pushes your dress up so he can see the way you look beneath him and the sight is enough to turn a man insane. The expanse of your think thighs adorned in the beautifully delicious stockings you chose to wear for the occasion, almost calling his name to keep his eyes on you.

"Please," you whisper.

His head snaps up when he hears your whimper, the look on your face taunting him, coaxing him to touch you further. Jungkook likes to think he's quite the strong spirit, but he's never felt weaker as he has kneeling before you now. He gives into the soft sounds you make just for him and pushes his fingers past your undergarments, fully touching you. You instantly gasp and push yourself up further into his embrace, shocked by the feeling that was currently running through your body. You've never been touched this way and you were almost angry that you didn't get to experience this until now.

The only barrier between the two of you is broken as he slowly pushes two fingers inside of you, watching intently at the faces you make. You let out a drawn out moan and pull him closer until his face is practically into your neck. He takes the opportunity to plant his mouth against your skin, feeling your pulse beneath his tongue, and you shudder at the warmth that consumes you.

"You're so perfect," he grunts as he pushes his fingers deeper, causing you to gasp for the millionth time. His eyes fall to your chest once again, watching it rise and fall almost in a pattern. He's thrusting his fingers into you faster, with more purpose, manually reaching inside of you for the delightful sounds you offer to him so easily.

You thread your fingers into his hair again, ever so slightly pulling when he reaches a spot inside of you that has your toes curling. He was making you feel so wonderful, a feeling you never wanted to go away. A feeling you wanted him to provide for you every single day as long as you live. Your eyes flutter open as you look up at him, the sight causing an unfamiliar feeling to bubble inside of you. His hair was slightly damp from sweat, his eyes producing a fire you've never witnessed, all the while his fingers moved inside of you much faster than before.

There's a feeling rising inside of you that causes you to arch your back and slightly constrict your legs around Jungkook's incredibly lean waist. The sounds are pouring from you now like a mantra as you desperately claw at his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer to your form.

"You can do it baby," he whispers, egging you on before planting his face into your chest and beginning to take the supple flesh of your breast into his mouth. That's all it took to have you falling apart beneath him. Your muscles constrict and his name comes flowing from your mouth like a chant, further proving to him how undoubtedly perfect you were.

You lay still, breathing heavily as he removes his digits from your body and smooths your dress back into place. He carefully places your sleeve back up your shoulder and pushes a piece of hair behind your ear. You watch him the whole time, admiring how determined he looked. Your words were hidden in your gut as you keep your eyes on him. Soon, you realize his carriage stops before his house and you turn to him, confused.

Jungkook hops out effortlessly and holds his hand out to you. "Well, are you coming?" he asks.

Your eyes scan before his home, taking in the beautifully structured building. As you part your lips to ask him why you were here, he steps closer and gently caresses your chin in his hands.

"If you're to become by wife, you need to meet my family."

♞ ♞ ♞

[dovedewdrop]

Scratch My Back

Masterlist

Joel Miller x reader

word count: 889

Summary: The tide is pulling you under, just like it has plenty of times before. Your husband helps you communicate.

A/N: I’ve been struggling with my mental health & looking after myself for a long, long time and I was getting myself all psyched up to get a shower but I didn’t end up getting in and decided to write this lil thing that I’ve been thinking about for a while! I hope you enjoy it and if anyone out there is reading this and is struggling too, just know that you are not alone and that if Joel Miller were real, he would scratch your back❤️

Also thank you so much for 100 followers🥹🫶🏻 really brightened up my spirits a lil bit💓

Warnings: No Outbreak. Depiction of poor mental health. Sadness. One big loving man (it’s Joel Miller) (Not a warning but I didn’t want it to seem all doom and gloom😅) No use of Y/N.

To Joel, it was just a Wednesday, your day off. To you, the ceiling was caving in. Before he left for work you were sound asleep, your thoughts at bay, laying still against the sand, he placed a gentle kiss to your temple before rolling out of bed. Now that you were awake your thoughts were thrashing against the cliffs, the mental whiplash you were facing ultimately draining your body of all its energy.

You watch the clock on the bedside table blink from one minute to the next. You thought about all if the things you should probably be doing; showering, tidying the house, preparing that home cooked meal you’d been promising your husband for over a week but all you could do was slip in and out of sleep, that was the safe option, the one that would keep you somewhat sane until he returned. You didn’t want to bother him, didn’t want to text him those three words because you knew he would stop everything for you, everything would be put on hold so that he could soothe you and you didn’t want to add that onto the ever-growing list of things to feel bad about. So you waited.

“Honey?” His voice reverberated off the walls, the sound of his gentle tone floated up the stairs. You didn’t have the energy to shout back, the sound of his boots hitting the wooden steps told you that it wouldn’t be long until he was by your side anyway. He took in the sight of the drawn curtains, the sight of you facing them, still in your t-shirt and underwear and you felt the bed dip behind you, the warmth of his body encompassing yours, his scent filling your scenes. 

“Something happen?” A gentle kiss placed to your shoulder blade, the feeling of his lungs emptying and filling behind your back soothing you. You shook your head, allowing a silence to draw over you both as Joel’s arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you further back into the curve of his body. He was always so patient with you, so tender.

“Scratch my back.”

Scratch my back, a cry for help. A promise made between two lovers. A rule established when you’d first started dating. Joel knew that you struggled with your mental health, you’d opened up to some extent, brushing him off with a ‘I’m having a tough day but I’ll be ok x’ text in the beginning, even then he gave you your space. 

One week in spring however, everything was not okay. He hadn’t heard from you in four days, no text and definitely no phone calls. At first he thought that this was your way of letting him know you were no longer interested and selfishly, he couldn’t let it end that way. So after days of mulling it over and chewing his bottom lip raw, he drove over to your apartment and that’s where he found you, dark circles engulfing your eyes, threatening to swallowing them whole, hair unwashed, apartment flooded in gloom.

He took a bath with you, washed your hair as best he could. The spring air still had a slight chill to it so he’d made sure your new set of pyjamas were on the radiator ready for bed and he laid with you in silence until you turned into his chest and he felt the wet of your tears seep into the fabric of his shirt. 

“You don’t have to talk to me.” He pressed a kiss into your hairline. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to talk to me, I mean obviously you can, when you feel comfortable and ready to but there is something I want you to do for me baby,” another soft kiss. Your eyes travelled up his face to finally look him in his eyes, those soft brown eyes that made you fall in love with him in the first place. All you could do was give a small nod, you would do anything he asked. “I want you to come up with a word or a phrase,” he continued, “so that when things get bad and you don’t feel like you can talk about it…” he trailed off, his hands drawing shapes up and down the length of your spine.

“Like a safe word?” He let out a huff of air at that, a small smile adorning his face.

“Yeah, kinda like a safe word, so I know that you’re safe,” his palm came to rest on your cheek, thumb cupping your jaw, “up here,” and his fingers tapped gently on the side of your temple.

“Scratch my back,” It was soft, the way it came out, tears threatening to spill over, “because if you promise to scratch mine, i’ll always scratch yours.” You couldn’t stop the tears from falling then, the last thing you wanted was for Joel to see you like this and to become his burden, but the way he’d shown you such care and compassion made your head feel a little less foggy, you wanted to promise that you could do that in return, that it wouldn’t just be him constantly looking after you.

“Oh sweet angel.” Both of his hands were cupping your cheeks now, pressing a light kiss to your nose and then your lips.

[wildemaven]

life and loss | joel miller

pairing: dave york x f!reader / joel miller x f!reader word count: 1k content warnings: 18+ blog; death, grief/loss, major character death (no description of said death), AU and crossover universes, kind of fluffy, navigating loss, reader is non descriptive/blank slate. notes: this randomly came to me yesterday on my walk. It was meant to be just a moodboard and a small blurb to go along with it… and then this happened. Oops! Tried to pack a lot into a small thing so hopefully it makes sense.

Momentos of him, your late husband, have remained tucked away for the last year following his unexpected death. As you settle into your new widowed life and new home over a thousand miles away from the life you created with Dave, all the beautiful memories reside in cardboard boxes out of sight. 

Word travels quickly through the small neighborhood about your arrival and marital status— or lack thereof. Welcoming introductions turn into unannounced check-ins and flowers. Uncomfortable small talk on your front porch is sprinkled throughout the following weeks, a hand on your shoulder accentuates their let us know if you need anything. Sympathetic casseroles finally dwindle allowing you to finally ease into this new season of your life. 

The hammock left by the previous owners becomes your sanctuary most evenings. Searching for the brightest star in the night’s sky, then asking Dave how he’s doing before reading aloud to him the words from your latest book. 

It's days later when you’ve read the final word that a small voice from over the fence manifests as a quirky teenage girl sitting at a table you’ve set up on your back patio. She has a million and one questions about the book and is filled with theories about what happens beyond its ending. The side gate is never regularly latched closed now, eagerly awaiting Ellie’s return. She navigates most of your late night conversations that follow, including personal stories and the history of her life. My grump of an old man is in construction. He’s single by the way— not by choice, but life happens. 

His voice is calloused the first time he makes his presence known to you. Goddamn it, Ellie! I told you to leave her alone! They exchange brittle words back and forth through the shared barrier, before you insist he join the two of you. The crunch of his boots on the ground stall when he towers over where you’re still seated. His hand engulfing yours, warm and gentle as he tries to determine where his gaze should fall— you, the ground, the smirking teenager sitting across from you. Joel. Joel Miller. Uh, Ellie n’ I live next door. Not sure how long she’s been botherin’ you, but I’ll be sure it doesn’t happen again.

It’s weeks later when you run into Joel at the mailboxes. The clanking of keys and squeaky hinges fill the space between you before you’re both retreating back to your respective pathways. Your hands fidget and twist the bills and letters from your parents when you bravely initiate a conversation before he’s able to reach his front door. She’s the first person since moving here who wanted to talk to me about something other than the death of my husband. I don’t think I’ve laughed as much as I have with her in a long time. She’s welcome over here anytime. 

He reeks of nervousness as he stands on your doorstep the following evening. The ambered hue of his eyes absorb the warmth from the front porch light, adding a brightness to them that they seem to be commonly lacking. His words waver a bit as he begins to speak, starting and stopping, scrubbing his hand down his face before he attempts to start again. You offer him nothing but patience, sensing the mournful energy radiating off him— similar to the one you’ve been carrying. My wife and older daughter— they were both in an accident on their way to Sarah’s soccer game. I was pickin’ up Ellie from her counseling group for adopted kids. We were headin’ to the soccer field when I got the call. Some days are harder than others. And everyone wants to help, however that may be— lots of food as I’m sure you know. It doesn’t ever really get easier, but you learn to live with grief. Anyways, if you ever need anything or just want to talk— you know where I live.  

He accepts your impulsive invitation to join you for dinner, offering him the open seat across from you in the same spot as your timid first meeting. The crickets orchestrate the evening ambience as you share stories you’d tucked away, too painful to revisit until now. You find you laugh just as much, if not more, with Joel. Even among the tears shed, the conversation is filled with a hope and optimism that you longed for. 

You still feel his wholesome embrace long after you’ve called it a night to seek out much needed sleep. But much like the nights that ensued after Dave’s death, loneliness and the weight of your grief rear its head. 

The black ink glides over the surface of the paper. Line after line formulated a year’s worth of unsaid words that had been bottled up and blockaded by the rigid walls you’d built around them. Joel was right about the therapeutic effect of getting rid of the burdensome thoughts that come with loss, finding it’s hard to stop now that you’ve started. 

You convey the love that you still carry for Dave, something you’ll never willfully ignore or regret. It feels wrong but you touch on the hatred you feel towards his death; you hate him for leaving you, hate that you miss him, hate that some nights you forget the small details that you cherished about him. You tell him about Joel and the kindness he’s afforded you in a short time of knowing him and that there’s life beyond losing the love of your life. To look for the light even when shrouded by darkness. 

Pictures and trinkets find their way out of the cardboard confines Joel helped pull out from the guest room closet. The bare walls now filled with familiar faces and shelves adorn with colorful memories that you tried so hard to keep hidden. 

Joel and Ellie being a constant presence in your life allows you to see that life can surprise you when you least expect it and there’s room for new love. 

[nicnak20]

Baby blues; Charlie Mayhew:

*After the birth of his new child, Charlie must find a way to juggle work and his new responsibility as a dad. *

The scent of baby powder and a sweetness that transcended any expensive perfume clung to the air in the Mayhew household. Dr. Charlie Mayhew, a man usually at ease amidst the sterile smells and urgent beeps of St. Augustine’s Hospital, found himself captivated by this new, domestic fragrance. Holding his daughter, Delia, felt like cradling a tiny, precious secret against his chest. Her soft sighs and the delicate flutter of her eyelids were a symphony that drowned out the familiar anxieties of his profession. His dark brown hair, usually neatly styled, was rumpled from a morning spent with a tiny hand gripping a strand. His bambi brown eyes, normally focused and assessing, were softened with an unadulterated adoration.

Yn, his wife, watched him with a gentle smile. Her own exhaustion was evident in the faint shadows beneath her eyes, but her love for both her husband and child radiated outwards, filling the room with warmth. She was a lighthouse of calm amidst the sea of new parenthood, her cautious nature now channeled into meticulous care for their daughter.

Charlie was smitten, utterly and completely. He’d always envisioned fatherhood, but the reality was a joy so profound it felt almost overwhelming. Yet, the life he’d built, the life that allowed him to provide for this beautiful family, demanded his attention. The hospital calls were a constant hum in the background, a reminder of his responsibilities.

The first few weeks were a blur of sleepless nights and blissful discoveries. Charlie tried to be present, to soak in every milky burp and gummy smile. He’d rush home from his shifts, the weight of life-and-death decisions still heavy on his shoulders, only to have it instantly lifted by the sight of Yn nursing Delia, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the nursery lamp. He’d change nappies with a practiced hand, honed from years of assisting nurses, and marvel at the tiny fingers and toes that seemed impossibly perfect.

But the idyllic bubble started to fray at the edges. The demands of the hospital didn’t magically disappear with Delia’s arrival. His colleagues still needed him, patients still needed his expertise. He found himself constantly checking his phone, even during the rare peaceful moments at home. A nagging guilt started to take root. He was physically present but mentally often miles away, replaying a complicated diagnosis or anticipating the next urgent call.

Returning to the relentless rhythm of the hospital after his allotted paternity leave felt like stepping back into a raging current after weeks spent in a tranquil pool. The familiar sterile scent of disinfectant seemed harsher, the hurried footsteps of nurses more frantic, and the weight of responsibility for his patients, though never absent, now felt compounded by a pang of longing. Every time his pager buzzed, a tiny voice in his head whispered Delia’s name. Every late-night emergency, every demanding patient, pulled him further away from the chubby cheeks and gurgling laughter that awaited him at home.

He missed Delia’s first proper giggle because he was on a conference call about hospital budget cuts. He saw a picture of her rolling over for the first time, sent by a beaming Yn, while scrubbing in for an emergency surgery. These missed milestones were tiny pinpricks, but they accumulated, leaving him with a dull ache of regret.

His ambition, a driving force in his career, now felt like a traitor. He wanted to excel at the hospital, to contribute meaningfully, but he also desperately wanted to be there for his daughter. The two desires seemed increasingly incompatible.

One particularly grueling week, Charlie barely saw Delia awake. He left before dawn and returned long after she was asleep, the silence of the house a stark contrast to the frantic energy of the emergency room. He found Yn sitting up in bed, her face etched with weariness. Delia was asleep in her bassinet beside them.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Yn looked at him, her insightful gaze seeing straight through his tired facade. “Hey yourself. Long night?”

“You could say that.” He sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I feel like I’m missing everything.”

Yn reached out and took his hand, her touch a familiar comfort. “She misses you too, Charlie.” There was no accusation in her voice, only a gentle observation of their reality.

He looked at his sleeping daughter, her tiny chest rising and falling rhythmically. A wave of protectiveness washed over him, fierce and undeniable. He was her father, his role was to shield her, to guide her, to be there. But how could he do that when he was constantly pulled in another direction?

But then came the morning Delia rolled over for the first time. Yn had sent him a video, a shaky but joyous documentation of the momentous occasion. Charlie had watched it on his phone during a brief coffee break, a bittersweet ache in his throat. He’d been there for her birth, a moment he’d replay in his mind with vivid clarity, the miracle of it all. But these small, everyday miracles, these quiet triumphs, were slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

But then, a cascade of emergencies hit the hospital. A car accident, a sudden cardiac arrest, a complicated delivery. Each crisis demanded his attention, his expertise.

The breaking point arrived on a particularly grueling Tuesday. He’d started his day before sunrise, a restless night punctuated by the phantom cries of his daughter. The day had been a relentless barrage of consultations, procedures, and urgent calls. He’d skipped lunch, his stomach gnawing in protest, fueled only by lukewarm coffee and the adrenaline of his profession. Then, late in the afternoon, a serious car accident brought in multiple trauma patients. The ensuing hours were a blur of controlled chaos, his focus narrowed to the life-or-death decisions at hand.

He finally stumbled home, the city lights blurring through his tired eyes, well past Delia’s bedtime. Yn was waiting for him, a weary but understanding smile on her face. But as he leaned down to kiss her, his gaze fell upon a small, framed print on the side table. It was a handprint, Delia’s tiny hand, perfectly preserved in soft plaster. Yn explained that she’d made it that afternoon, a spontaneous little project. He’d missed it. He’d missed capturing that precious moment, that fleeting stage of his daughter’s life.

That night, sleep eluded him. He lay beside Yn, the rhythmic sound of her breathing usually a comfort, now a reminder of the peaceful domesticity he was so often absent from. The hospital, his patients, his career – they all demanded so much. But Delia, his tiny, vulnerable daughter, deserved more. She deserved his presence, his active participation in her burgeoning life.

The next morning, Charlie made a decision. He spoke to his head of department, Dr. Albright, a seasoned physician with a surprisingly empathetic understanding of the challenges faced by young parents. He explained his situation, his desire to be more present for his family, the gnawing guilt of missed milestones. Dr. Albright, a father of three grown children, listened patiently, his dark eyes surprisingly warm.

“Family is paramount, Charlie,” he’d said, leaning back in his chair. “A burnt-out doctor is no good to his patients anyway. Take the time you need.”

And so, Charlie booked a full week off. No on-call duties, no early morning rounds, no late-night emergencies. Just him, Yn, and Delia. When he told Yn, her face lit up, a radiant smile that chased away the lingering shadows of his guilt.

The first day felt strange, almost surreal. He woke up without the screech of his alarm, the house bathed in the soft glow of morning. He made breakfast for Yn, a leisurely affair filled with quiet conversation and the occasional coo from the bassinet. He changed Delia’s diaper, marveling at the delicate perfection of her tiny toes. He held her close, breathing in her sweet scent, the weight of her small body a comforting anchor.

That week was a revelation. He witnessed Delia’s unwavering fascination with the mobile above her crib, her little hands batting at the dangling shapes. He was there for her first giggle, a bubbly sound that filled the house with pure joy. He learned the subtle nuances of her cries – the hungry cry, the tired cry, the ‘just-need-a-cuddle’ cry. He took her for walks in her stroller, pointing out the rustling leaves and chirping birds, feeling a profound connection to the simple beauty of the world.

He and Yn fell into a rhythm, a comfortable ebb and flow of shared responsibilities and quiet moments of connection. They rediscovered the easy intimacy that life with a newborn often pushed to the periphery. They talked, not just about schedules and feedings, but about their hopes and dreams for Delia, for their family.

As the week drew to a close, a familiar anxiety began to creep in. The thought of returning to the relentless demands of the hospital felt like a heavy weight settling on his shoulders. He voiced his concerns to Yn, his voice laced with apprehension.

Yn, ever the insightful one, took his hand. “You don’t have to go back to the way things were, Charlie. You can find a balance.”

And she was right. The week had given him clarity. He realized he’d been trying to compartmentalize his life, keeping his work self and his father self in separate boxes. But they were intertwined, and he needed to find a way to integrate them.

He started by being more assertive at work. He learned to delegate, trusting his colleagues and residents. He became more efficient with his time, focusing on the essential tasks and learning to say no to extra commitments. He negotiated his schedule, carving out specific blocks of time for family. He made it a point to leave on time whenever possible, refusing to let the hospital become his entire world.

It wasn't easy. There were still days when emergencies kept him late, when the weight of his responsibilities felt overwhelming. But now, he approached these challenges with a different perspective. He knew that a little piece of his heart resided at home, waiting for him. He knew that his presence, his active participation, was invaluable.

He made it to Delia’s first steps, his camera phone shaking with emotion as she wobbled across the living room towards his outstretched arms. He was there for her first words, a garbled but unmistakable “Dada” that made his heart swell with a love he never knew possible. He learned the delicate art of bedtime stories, his voice soothing her into slumber.

Charlie Mayhew, the dedicated doctor, didn't disappear. He remained committed to his patients; his compassion undiminished. But he had also become Charlie Mayhew, the devoted father, a man who understood that true success wasn’t measured in accolades or achievements, but in the laughter of his daughter and the love of his family. He had found his balance, not by sacrificing one for the other, but by embracing both, weaving the threads of his professional and personal life into a rich and fulfilling tapestry. He had kept his promise to Delia, and in doing so, he had found a deeper, more profound sense of purpose.

[corroded-hellfire]

Sniffles and Snuggles - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Collaboration with my dear @munson-blurbs 💕

Older!eddie edit by the lovely @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

Summary: When your baby girl wakes up sick, her daddy is there to take care of her

Note: The thought of Eliza being all clingy to Eddie because she doesn’t feel well and just wants her daddy inspired this so I hope you enjoy the thoughts that just pop into my head

Words: 4k

[As You Wish Masterlist]

A familiar cry wakes you from your slumber. It’s muffled—coming from down the hall. Your eyes open in the darkness of your bedroom. Glancing over at the window you see the slightest gray creeping into the blackness of night. Morning must be rolling around you surmise as you stretch your arms out above your head. The cry sounds again and you stare up at your ceiling while you wait to see if it’s going to continue or not. There have been times where Eliza has woken up, cried out a few times simply because she wanted attention, then let it go. 

Eddie’s fast asleep next to you, turned your way, giving you a clear view of the drool dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. A soft chuckle falls out of you as you trail your gaze down to see your husband’s bare chest slowly moving up and down with his steady breaths. Another cry from your daughter breaks your focus on your sexy man though, and you push yourself out of bed to go see what’s bothering her. 

The closer you get to Eliza’s room, you can hear the different noises she’s making. These aren’t just the typical cries she sometimes has in the middle of the night. There’s whining and a whimpering that’s breaking your heart. 

“Hey, what’s going on in here?” 

As soon as you see your one-year-old you know something is up. Her cheeks are flushed and her brown curls are matted to her forehead in sweat. She’s holding onto the bars of her crib like she’s an inmate begging to be freed from their jail cell. The moment her eyes land on you, the whining picks up and she’s scrambling for your attention. 

“What’s wrong, Sweet Pea?” you ask.

Not even making an attempt at the few words she knows how to say, Eliza simply raises her arms for you to pick her up. The heat radiating off of her little body in its pink onesie is evident the moment your hands are on her. Frowning, you hold her against your chest and gently press your lips to her forehead. 

“Oh, you’re burning up, baby. Is someone not feeling well?” Eliza buries her head in your neck, and you have your answer. “Come on, you. Let’s take some medicine that’ll help you feel better.”

Intermittent sniffles come from the baby as you walk with her into the kitchen. The medicines are kept on a high shelf and there’s no way you’ll be able to rummage for what you’re looking for with your daughter in your arms. Luckily, her Disney Princess highchair is only a few feet away and you move to set her down in it. This elicits an immediate negative reaction from Eliza. 

“It’s just for a second, sweetheart. Give Mommy one moment to find your medicine.” She clings to you as you try to place her in the chair, but a couple of kisses to the head and whispered assurances that you’re not going anywhere have her finally releasing her vice grip on you. As you watch her slump to the side in her seat, eyes glazed over and staring somewhere in the distance, you think her lack of strength or energy also contributed to her finally letting you go. 

The children’s Tylenol is easily findable, and you pour some of the thick berry flavored syrup into a small dosage cup. Eliza eyes it warily, as if already knowing that she’s not going to like it. She wrinkles her nose up as the blue medicine comes closer to her and her whines start up again. 

“This is going to help you feel better, my love. I promise.” You can’t blame Eliza for her cranky attitude, but you just wish she’d believe you and take the medicine without issue. But since when do children behave that way? Especially the children of Eddie Munson. 

“Come on,” you say as you set the little cup on the tray of her highchair. “It’ll be over really quick. You might even like how it tastes.” 

After a few more whiny protests and some cranky writhing in her seat, Eliza stares down at the liquid that might give her some relief. You’re pretty sure you can see the resignation in her brown eyes as gazes at the medicine.

“Here we go.” You lift the small cup up to her lips—which she begrudgingly opens—and tilt it up so the Tylenol pours into her mouth. The moment it’s all swallowed and Eliza closes her mouth, her face scrunches up in revulsion and she shakes her head. It doesn’t seem right to laugh when your daughter is feeling so lousy, but you can’t help but let out a chuckle at her visceral reaction to the taste. “Why don’t we watch a movie, huh? One of your favorites.”

Eliza’s body heat takes you by surprise again as you lift her from her chair. Her head lolls onto your shoulder as you walk into the living room and snatch up the movie on the top of the pile. The Little Mermaid disc isn’t in the case, and it doesn’t shock you at all. It’s probably already in the player, all ready to go. 

You scoop up the remote on the way to the couch and click on the television. Eliza’s curls tickle your chin as you hit the buttons that will lead you to the DVD screen. As suspected, The Little Mermaid is in there and ready to be watched for the thousandth time. 

“Here we go,” you say, snuggling into the couch with her. “Let’s watch Ariel, yeah?” You’re hoping that the medicine will allow her to get some more sleep. The way she holds herself to your body lets you know she wants to be cuddled. Adjusting yourself so that it’s comfortable for the both of you, you lean back and kick your feet up on the coffee table, allowing Eliza to use your torso as her bed. Her big eyes turn towards the television at the familiar sounds of her favorite movie. One of your hands goes to her tiny back, rubbing reassuring and calming circles, while the other gently strokes her soft downy hair. 

You’re fighting sleep when you hear the heavy-footed sound of Eddie padding out to the living room. His hair is a mess, curls askew, and he scratches at his stubble as he yawns. 

“What’re my sweet girls doing up at this hour?” he asks softly, re-tying the strings of his plaid pajama pants. 

You return his yawn with a weary smile. “Someone is sick and spiked a fever, so I’m just laying with her until the Tylenol kicks in,” you explain, kissing your baby’s sweaty curls. 

Eddie looks at you, kindness and empathy still radiating from his tired eyes. “Babe, you look exhausted.” He leans down to try and take Eliza from your embrace, frowning when you pull back. “Let me help.”

“S’okay, Eds. I got it.” 

“But you need to sleep so you can go to work tomorrow,” he protests. 

Noting that you’re distracted by the conversation at hand, Eliza takes advantage and wriggles from your grasp. She plops her head down on a nearby pillow and almost immediately falls asleep, congested snores emanating from her tiny nostrils. 

You furrow your brow, lowering your voice so you don’t disturb your daughter’s slumber. “No, I’m staying home with her. You go into work.”

“I have more vacation days saved up,” he points out, holding out his arms. “Hand me the child and go back to bed.”

You give in, too tired to argue further, kissing him and Eliza before trudging back to bed. You look over your shoulder before you head down the hall, back to your bedroom. Eddie has made himself comfortable on one side of the couch, placing a throw pillow on his lap. He carefully maneuvers Eliza so she can curl up in the same position, rubbing gentle circles on her back to try and break up some of the congestion. It’s not his first rodeo with a sick kid, and based on his older children’s experiences, it won’t be his last. 

When your alarm goes off an hour later, you feel anything but rested. Your muscles ache as your body all but begs for more sleep, but you try to shove away the discomfort with a warm shower. It helps somewhat, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t almost fall asleep standing up. 

The family room is quiet; the only sound is the soft hum of the DVD player whirring, the movie long over. Eddie is sprawled out on the couch, his long limbs flung in every direction over the furniture like an overgrown starfish. Eliza, always one to copy her daddy, is spread out on top of his chest.  They’re both snoring, though you truly can’t be sure which one of them is louder. 

Trying to make the least amount of noise possible, you head into the kitchen and prepare breakfast for yourself and the boys. You know the drill by now: cereal for Ryan, Eggos for Luke. This particular morning though, you don’t think you’ll be able to ingest anything other than a large cup of coffee. 

The ringing of two alarm clocks faintly reaches you in the kitchen. Knowing it takes both of them a minute—or a few in Luke’s case—to get out of bed, you know you have time to finish prepping the food before you head down the hall to intercept them. You have to inform them that on this side of the house there are two sleeping beauties currently sawing wood. 

“Hey,” you say in a hushed tone as you meet up with the boys in front of their rooms. “Daddy and Eliza are sleeping on the couch. You have to be quiet, okay?”

“Good morning to you, too,” Ryan grumbles, rubbing his left eye with the heel of his hand. Sometimes his preteen moments popped up when you were least able to handle them. 

“Why are they on the couch?” Luke asks, voice lower for him, but still a bit loud. 

“Eliza isn’t feeling well, and they must’ve fallen asleep waiting for her medicine to kick in,” you explain. 

“Is she okay?” Ryan asks.

“She’s fine, sweetie. Just some sniffles,” you tell him. “Now come on, your breakfasts are ready.”

Most of breakfast manages to go smoothly and quietly, until Luke drops his fork on the ground, and it lands on the linoleum with a definitive clang. Your second oldest winces as he turns to you. “Sorry,” he silently mouths. Honestly, you had expected him to make a bigger noise than that at some point, so this is nothing. 

Once they finish their breakfast, you usher the boys down the hall and tell them to get ready for school. You finish getting ready for work as well. It’s hard to focus on doing your hair or finding a pair of shoes when you know your baby girl is sick in the other room. But you know she’ll be fine; she’s with Eddie. Super Dad. Being a mom came with a boatload of anxieties, but Eddie always managed to make everything better and less stressful. You joke to him all the time that some magic must’ve rubbed off on him after all the times he’s played D&D throughout his life. 

You finish getting ready the same time the boys do, and you see them slipping on their backpacks in the family room. They make no noise, yet their presence in the room must have been enough because both Eddie and Eliza stir from their nap. 

“How are you feeling, Eliza?” Ryan asks, tone still soft and low. 

His baby sister’s only response is to heave an overdramatic sigh, very reminiscent of her father. 

“Feel better!” Luke chirps with far too much enthusiasm. 

With an irritated whine, Eliza puts her hands over her tiny ears at her brother’s loud volume. She buries her face in Eddie’s chest, signaling that the conversation with her siblings is over. Eddie uses one hand to caress his daughter's brown locks, hoping it will calm and relax her, and waves to his sons with the other. 

“Have a good day at school, guys,” he tells them. The two of them wave back and say their goodbyes before they head out the front door to get to their bus stop down on the corner of the street. 

It’s your turn to leave now and you really don’t want to. This is the hardest you’ve ever had to push yourself to get out of the house and go to work. A restless night’s sleep or a massive headache making you not want to go in is nothing compared to knowing your child is home sick. 

Once you have everything ready to go, you walk over and lean down to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead.

“I gotta go now, baby. But I don’t wanna.” You give him the most adorable pout that has a smile lighting up his tired face. 

“I’ll hold down the fort,” he tells you. “Have a good day at work. Though it won’t be as amazing as Eliza-Daddy Day.”

“I’m very jealous that I don’t get to be a part of it.” You smile down at your daughter, who has fallen back asleep, and admire the adorable features that she’s inherited from the both of you. “I’ll see you guys later. I love you.”

“We love you too, baby. I love you more, though. But don’t tell Eliza I said that; she’s a very territorial little girl.” 

Chuckling, you lean down and press one more kiss to your husband’s lips. “Bye, baby.”

Eddie dozes on and off as he stays as still as possible on the couch so as not to wake the baby. It’s certainly not the most comfortable position, but he’ll be damned if his daughter is awake because of him. He keeps one hand on her back; she’s so little underneath it, and he’s suddenly overcome with a fierce urge to protect her. 

Eliza eventually wakes up around lunchtime, tears immediately springing to her eyes. Her face crumples when she tries to breathe in through her nose and realizes that she can’t. 

Eddie sits up a bit straighter, keeping his daughter close to his chest. “How ya feeling, baby girl?”

“Uck,” she grunts out, swiping messily at her runny nose. 

“Are you hungry?” Eddie asks before deciding for her. “You need to eat something.”

He picks her up and starts to set her in a flowery pink baby walker—surprisingly, Luke had been the one to pick it out at Babies R Us—but Eliza is in no mood to be put down. She lets out a whine that sounds more like a shriek. 

Eddie winces at the piercing noise, instinctively bringing her against his chest again. “Hey, hey, what is it?” he softly asks, but she just whimpers and hides her face in his neck. 

“Dada.”

“Sweet pea, I was just gonna go into the kitchen to get us some lunch,” he tries to explain, knowing full well that it’s next to useless. “You’ll be able to see me the whole time.”

Eliza shakes her head against his body and sniffles pathetically. “Nooooo. Dada!”

Eddie sighs, giving in to the prospect that the two of them will be attached at the hip all day. “Okay, Lize, you can come with me,” he acquiesces. “We can make a mess of the kitchen together.” He lowers his voice before adding, “just don’t tell Mommy.”

He makes two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with one hand, the other holding on to Eliza’s diapered butt while he works “And they said I had no talent. Ha.”

“Goo Dada.”

Eddie’s glad he understands her normal baby talk enough, because interpretation is even harder now that she’s congested. 

“I did good? Why, thank you.” He hands her a piece of sandwich and she immediately drops it on the ground. 

“Eliza!”

She crosses her tiny arms and twists her whole body back and forth in protest. “Ucky.”

“Lize, you love peanut butter—”

“UCKY!”

“Okay, no peanut butter for you today,” Eddie mutters, shoving half a sandwich in his mouth. “Let’s see what else we got.”

There isn’t a whole lot in the freezer, but Eddie spots a box of frozen Italian ice cups and pulls it out. He flips the lid open and purses his lips when he only sees a few yellow cups inside. 

“Guess your brothers ate all the cherry ones,” he grumbles as he rummages through the box, just to make sure he didn’t miss a red one. “Looks like we just have lemon left.” He makes an unamused face, but Eliza reaches out and grabs it anyway. “You want—y’know what? Sure.”

Eddie grabs a spoon from the utensil drawer and uses his foot to pull Eliza’s high chair over to the kitchen table—lest they be too far apart from each other and Eliza gets all fussy again. She willingly complies since she sees her Daddy will be sitting right in front of her. He pops open the lid of the frozen treat and sets it on the tray in front of her.

“All right, this is gonna be sour,” he warns, but she still eagerly accepts the bite. 

Her lips pucker immediately, her nose scrunching up like a bunny at the strange sensation on her tongue. 

Eddie lets out a laugh at the adorable and hilarious expression on her little face. “I told you! You want that sandwich now?”

Face still pinched up, Eliza vehemently shakes her head. 

“Mo!” Eliza stretches out her hand towards the cup.

“I’ll be damned,” Eddie muses, but he obliges. She makes the same expression with each bite, but she eats nearly half of the serving before declaring, “no mo!”

Eddie gets Eliza cleaned up, not worrying about the mess in the kitchen right now. He’ll take care of it later, as he’s sure the sick girl will take many naps today.  

He picks his daughter up out of her highchair and holds her on his hip. “Whatcha wanna do now?”

Eliza lets out a wet little baby cough and gives a shake of her head. 

“You don’t know?” Eddie asks. “Hmm. Ah, I’ve got it.”

He stands up, balancing Eliza on his side. She lays her head on his shoulder while he walks into her princess-themed room, using his elbow to flick on the overhead light. 

“Okay,” he says, kissing her temple, “let’s see what we’ve got.” He quickly scans the little bookshelf next to her bed to find her favorite story. With a triumphant grin, he plucks The Poky Little Puppy from its spot. 

He tucks himself into the rocking chair, settling in and shifting his daughter into his lap. Reaching behind him, he grabs the bright pink throw blanket and drapes it over her, digging his toes into the carpet to gently sway back and forth. 

Eliza is enraptured by her dad reading her favorite book to her, eyes wide as she clings to every syllable. She usually falls asleep to it, conditioned from countless nights where it’s been used as a bedtime story, but she’s still fresh from her nap. Besides, she’s having too much fun with this daddy-daughter bonding to be sleepy. 

She only gets fussy again once Eddie closes the book, her symptoms more prominent without the distraction of Eddie’s story-telling skills. 

“I think it’s time for another dose of medicine, baby girl,” Eddie whispers, trying to appear enthusiastic despite his own waning energy levels.

She downs the syrup easily, so out of sorts that she doesn’t even process its rancid taste until after it’s done. Eddie laughs at her contorted face, plopping down on the couch. “All right, my brave little girl,” he says as he grabs the remote, “what should we watch?”

The mere question brings a tiny spark to Eliza’s eyes, giving her just enough energy to bounce in her dad’s lap and point at the TV. “Mermah!”

“The Little Mermaid again?”

Eliza nods and Eddie internally groans. It’s a cute movie, but he’s pretty sure he could recite it line for line at this point. 

“Okay, let’s go under the sea,” he says as he starts the movie from the beginning, settling in to listen to Sebastian belt out “Under the Sea” for the umpteenth time. 

Still curled up into his chest, no indication of moving anytime soon, Eliza wipes her runny nose on her dad’s t-shirt. She doesn’t take her eyes off of the screen as she rubs her nose against the soft cotton with a sniffle. 

“Thanks, kid.”

“Welcuh.”

Eliza settles her head on the middle of her father’s chest and watches the different colored fish and sea life all gather together at the concert for King Triton. Eddie doesn’t really pay attention, mostly just focusing on how the little girl’s breathing is sounding and trying to keep her body supported up against his. 

But Eddie’s ears perk up when a familiar little voice joins in with the singing on screen. Ariel is singing “Part of Your World” and there’s a small, congested mumble singing alongside her. Eddie grins to himself as he listens to his daughter’s rendition. 

“Schingamabobs? Gots twenny. Bu’ who cawes? No bih deal. I wan’ mooooooo.”

All the times Eddie insisted on singing to Eliza while she was in your womb have seemed to pay off. She’s a little musical prodigy after his own heart. 

“You wanna be a mermaid, Lize?” Eddie asks her softly. She nods in response, never taking her eyes off of the television screen. 

Eddie half-heartedly watches the movie with her from that point forward. When it comes to the scene of Ariel using a fork as a comb for her hair at the dinner table, Eliza reaches up and begins to play with her own hair. Silky brown curls slip through her little fingers as she absentmindedly strokes her locks. Eddie would love to know what’s going on inside her head right now. Is she thinking of trying to use a fork as a comb? When Eliza brings a few pieces of her hair in front of her face to study, Eddie has another thought. He wonders if she wants to have the same red hair as her favorite Disney princess. To show her that he loves her hair just the way it is, Eddie presses a few soft kisses to the top of her head. 

As the movie progresses, Eliza becomes stiller on Eddie’s chest, and she’s not made a peep in a while. Her father watches her tiny back move up and down and sees it’s going in a slow, steady rhythm. As if to further prove his suspicion that she’s asleep, the sounds of her stuffy snores reach Eddie’s ears, making him smile. 

Eliza stirs a bit, wiggling around in an attempt to get comfortable in a new position. Eddie gently wraps his arm around her to rub her little back in calming circles. Within seconds, she’s out like a light again. 

“Daddy’s always gonna be here for you, Liza Bean,” he murmurs against her scalp, sweaty from fever. He takes a deep breath and settles in. 

Neither he nor Eliza wake when you return home, both of them sound asleep on the couch. The kitchen is a mess; there’s a random piece of sandwich on the floor and a melted lemon Italian ice on the table, but clean-up can wait for a moment. 

You watch the two of them breathe in tandem, heart soaring at the way your daughter curls up into her dad with all the love and trust in the world. 

Fatherhood looks perfect on him, you think, but wrinkle your nose upon further inspection, but the booger stains on his shirt definitely do not. 

[michellemisfit]

@gallacrafts Theme 35: Let’s Ride

Ian should really have clocked the teasing smirk on his husband’s face as Mickey pulled up outside Ian’s work, but it’s been a long day and Ian is fucking exhausted, so excuse him if he isn’t at his sharpest. He falls into the passenger seat with a brief ‘hi’ and a heavy sigh, immediately closing his eyes.

All he wants is to sleep through to Monday, but eventually Ian catches on to the excitement radiating off the man in the driver’s seat, drags his eyes open and turns his head, drawing breath to ask Mickey what’s going on. Which is when he sees… it.

“The fuck, Mickey?”

Mickey immediately bursts out laughing. “It’s you, see?”

No. Ian does not see.

“I found it at the gas station, by the check out! The packet said it’s a ginger! … Get it?” Mickey gleefully explains, and Ian? Well. Ian does not have the energy to deal with this right now, so he shakes his head, closes his eyes again, and tries to ignore his husband’s continuous chortle.

He’ll get him back. After he’s had some sleep!

It takes Ian a lot longer than expected and several fruitless online searches - who knew cutsie car air fresheners were that fucking popular?? - but after clicking through seemingly hundreds of different ones - almost giving up and just buying the middle finger one cause… well… Mickey - he finally finds and orders the perfect one!

A grumpy black cat, with scruffy hair, blue eyes, and ridiculously angry eyebrows.

And the crowning glory? The cat is much shorter than the ginger!

“Oh, fuck off!” Mickey grumbles, while Ian beams, attaching the second air freshener to the rear view mirror of their car.

Mickey may bitch about how he’s not “a stupid fucking cat”, and later on that it “doesn’t even make sense. You actually are ginger!”, and even later still “And my eyebrows do not look like that!!”

And yet, Mickey doesn’t take them down.

In fact, Ian often catches Mickey glancing at them - swaying and bouncing against each other as the car rumbles down the road - and sometimes Mickey even cracks a little smile.

But only when he thinks Ian isn’t looking, of course.

The End.

Medium: Felt

(Some in progress pictures behind the cut)

[floralcyanide]

𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 - 𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧!𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫

cillian murphy!oppenheimer x reader

DISCLAIMER: this is fanfiction. it isn’t real. Oppenheimer is a real person, however Cillian!Oppenheimer is not. he is a character. if you have something bad to say just keep it in the drafts (:

“let's all go play Nagasaki, we can all get vaporized. hold my hand, let's turn to ash. I'll see you on the other side.” - 137 by Brand New

warnings: spoilers for Oppenheimer, descriptions of nuclear bomb/ explosion, fear

word count: 1316

author's note: I love Cillian so much, and he did so good in Oppy!! I just had to write about it. please keep in mind there are spoilers in this, don't read if you haven't seen the movie. also, there's only like, one other fic on here for Cillian!Oppy which is sad but I'm sure there'll be more soon. (:

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

For the last few nights, Robert has woken up abruptly from his sleep. He’ll sit upright and pant, trying his best to catch his breath. It alarms you every time he does this despite him acting like it didn’t happen. But you know he doesn’t go back to sleep after because you feel him toss and turn until morning. Test day is tomorrow, and you can feel Robert’s nervous energy radiating off him. This was it- this was the epitome of his life’s work, and if it failed, he would be lost. And you’re torn between wanting it not to work for humanity’s sake and wanting it to work for Robert’s. 

You have worked alongside your husband for many years despite the pushback from society. But he knows your intelligence and insisted you be involved in the Project. He refused to have anything to do with it unless you assisted him. Lieutenant Groves reluctantly agreed, but he still knew just how capable you were to help with the Project. 

You’re very much a housewife outside of work, though. Despite being a knowledgeable person, you still have duties at home. You’re busy folding laundry when Robert exits the bedroom after getting ready for a meeting. It was the last one before tomorrow’s events. Robert doesn’t say much to you before bidding his farewell and heading out. It wasn’t abnormal for him to mumble a goodbye before putting his hat on and leaving without anything else said. He was reserved unless it was necessary to say something. That’s one thing you admired about Robert; he could be cynical and sarcastic yet humble and a man of few words. 

You would attend a later meeting that evening, so it’s possible you may not see Robert until bedtime. You aren’t worried about him not kissing your son goodnight or missing dinner. You mostly worry he won’t sleep enough.

Later in bed, you and Robert both lay on your backs, staring at the ceiling wordlessly. 

“How are you feeling?” you suddenly ask, breaking the eerie silence.

Robert opens his mouth before shutting it again, shrugging.

You sigh, turning on your side to face him, “I can feel you have nightmares, you know.”

Robert cuts his eyes toward you before giving in and rolling over to face you as well, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you furrow your brow, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. What we’re- what you’re doing is incredibly stressful and world-changing. It’s normal to be anxious over it.”

“That’s exactly why I’m anxious.”

“Which part?”

“The world-changing part.”

You’re quiet for a moment before answering, “What do you dream about?”

Robert’s eyes study yours closely, searching for any instance of potential recoil from what he’s about to tell you. He searches even though he knows he won’t find it because Robert knows that you’d never leave him no matter what. Even if his nightmares were incomparable to even the most descriptive horror stories. What’s worse is that Robert knows no one has ever seen the results of a bomb the magnitude of the one he’s created. So it’s up to his imagination. And his imagination is one of grotesque imagery that he hopes won’t come to fruition.

“Death,” Robert says plainly, with a cold look, “Destruction. Everything in my dreams is obliterated by fire and disintegrates into ash, and even the ash turns into nothingness.”

You purse your lips, gently reaching your hand up to touch Robert’s cheek, running your thumb over his cheekbone.

“I don’t fear for me or for us. I fear for our children,” Robert gives a watery laugh, “And the world they’ll have to grow up in knowing that such weaponry exists.”

You tuck Robert’s head into your chest, “You are merely the creator, darling. You have no control over how they use your creation. And I know that worries you, but you cannot do much about it.”

“I know. You’re right. But the fact I’m the one responsible for such a destructive device,” Robert trails off.

“Your creation is for science exploration and nothing more,” you say, “Remember that tomorrow.”

When you awake at two in the morning to prepare for the test, Robert has already gotten up from bed. You figure he didn’t sleep and has already made his way down the street to prepare. You hurriedly get dressed, grab your son, and walk out the front door. You let your neighbor, one of the wives of another scientist, watch over your son while you and Robert are away. A vehicle has been sent to your home, probably by Robert, to retrieve you. The ride is quiet and bumpy. You figure they would take you to the main hall, but they keep driving into the desert. Everyone must already be at Trinity. 

Trinity is alight, with people who worked on the project scurrying around to find the perfect spot to watch the explosion. You climb off the vehicle and run to the tent where Robert resides with the others. A relieved smile grows on his face when he sees you walk in.

“I didn’t want to see this without you,” he says, pulling you in for a tight hug.

“Did you sleep at all?” you mutter into his shoulder.

“Unfortunately, no. But sleep can come later,” Robert says, returning to the detonation station. 

You cross your arms and walk around aimlessly, watching the scientists scramble to take their places and put sun shades on.

“Ninety minutes,” Robert says from behind you.

You turn around to look at him, a half smile growing on your face, “I’m proud of you.”

“And I’m proud of you, too. Without your suggestions, we may not be here,” Robert plays with a loose strand of your hair.

“I doubt that,” you chuckle, “Your brainpower alone has done the job.”

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Robert says.

After a little under an hour and a half of checking that everything was perfect and prepared, everyone took their places where they wanted to view the test. You’re next to Robert, with goggles on your face that match his. Both of you have ports to get a fantastic view. The countdown begins.

Everyone becomes dead silent as the bomb is detonated. The flash causes you to gasp, your eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness despite the goggles. When the light subsides, you see a mushroom cloud of nothing but fire beginning to rise to the atmosphere. Beside you, Robert grabs hold of your hand and grasps it tightly. 

“Now I am become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds,” Robert says with a haunting tone.

You remove your goggles along with everyone else as you squint against the harsh brightness. Before you is the most terrifying, breathtaking thing you’ve ever seen. A firestorm that is capable of mass destruction. A scientific miracle. But before anyone can relax, the sound of air rumbling and rushing toward the tent is heard. The sound of the explosion hits the viewing base violently. The blast wave smacks everyone as they brace themselves against the high wind. Once the hot gust of air subsides and the explosion tapers down, everyone begins to cheer and clap.

“We did it,” Robert says in disbelief before he looks up at you, “We actually did it.”

You nod, smiling at him proudly before engulfing him in a hug.

“I have destroyed the world,” Robert whispers in your ear, and you pull away to see an odd flash of emotion cross his face.

“You haven’t,” you whisper back, as people begin to approach your husband, “But you’ve changed it forever.”

As colleagues surround Robert and move him outside, you remain in the tent for a moment. You replay the mushroom-looking explosion in your head. You begin to ponder what the Manhattan Project’s creation will do for the world. And whether it’s good or bad.

Either way, everyone has been forever changed.

[starryriize]

delulu thoughts | fuma

╰┈ ⋆｡˚ 🪼 author's note: hehe this man. is. the. standard. like i saw him and thought to myself- he radiates perfect husband energy pls he's such a green flag 🫶🏼 not proofread

◞✧˚ the type to be so gentle with you! holds your face with both hands as he peppers kisses on your face, everywhere he can! you look so good, he can't help but kiss you 🙁

◞✧˚ he’s the type to be protective yet calm and assertive when an unfamiliar situation arises; makes sure you’re safe first!! he approaches it with the attitude of “how do i best diffuse the situation without making the other person even angrier?” he’s always going to be someone you can lean on in hard times🫶🏼 

◞✧˚ he’s a gentle lover!! in the bedroom, puts you first, and focuses on your pleasure before himself. 🤭 soft touches and gentle, passionate kisses as if you’re made of glass!! if you ask him though, he will go at any pace you like  

◞✧˚ when he’s out with his friends, he thinks about jewelry that would look good on you!! he comes home with outfits that he’ll hype you up in! model it for him and he’s practically on the floor 🤭 he’s so in love and thinks he’s lucky to have you (like i said, the standard)

◞✧˚ along with this, often daydreams about you! idk why but i see him being so delulu while thinking about you! 😭 he imagines how you’d react to his stage outfits or his sleeveless fits! to make it worse, he sends you edits to watch of him if you miss him

◞✧˚ he’s again, gentle yet most likely possessive! you’re his and ofc, he’s gonna show you off. he does glare at men who think you’re single or want you :( you melt at his intimidating looks and you both go home while he promises to show you how much you mean to him 😭

◞✧˚ piggyback rides! he can carry you home when you’re drunk or too tired to walk with him. along with this, he works out more so that he can remain strong for you! i also think he is strong emotionally, but he isn’t afraid to let his walls down and cry in your arms. 

◞✧˚ the kind of love that you see in the streets and say to yourself, “this is what a timeless love looks like” because even after a few years, you’re still so in love with him 😌🥹

◞✧˚ a whole green flag!! dating him is like being in a romantic movie with sprinkled bits of comedy😭🫶🏼

[crowandmousewritingco]

A Scary Bad Time

Pairing: Benjamin "Benny" Miller x gn!reader

Words: 2.2k

Rating: G, nothing spicy here peeps. This fic just shows off the golden retriever energy that this man radiates.

Summary: You agree with to go to a haunted house with your fiance. Nearing the end, you realize that the whole thing is way too much for you to process and handle.

Author: Mod Crow

Author's Note: This story using the July prompt list from @thepromptfoundry, this fic specifically is using print #8, sensory sensitivity. I don't have the disorder that I chose to write about, so if one who reads this does, please feel free to correct me! The disorder in question is Sensory Processing Disorder, if you would like to learn about SPD, follow the link below.

Info on SPD: https://www.rileychildrens.org/health-info/sensory-processing-disorders

Dipping your hands back into your cardigan’s pockets, your fingers instantly finding the flat, smooth stone that you always kept there. Normally you’d take your fiance’s hand when you started feeling overwhelmed, but he wasn’t next to you at the moment. He was buying tickets while you held your spots in line for entry. Turning towards the ticket booth, you looked through the line trying to see him. When you didn’t see him in line however you could feel your chest tighten. You could feel yourself getting close to that edge, but that was until you saw the familiar brown hair and blue eyes and -arguably your favorite part of his face- his smile. 

“Sorry about the wait, sweetheart, the couple in front of me started arguing.” Benny slung his arm on your shoulders and gently pulled him into his side. You couldn’t help but lean into his body, the warmth he radiated was nice in the cool October evening air. But it wasn’t just the warmth, it was him. The fact that was simply touching you was more than enough to bring down the residual anxiety that was left over from just moments ago. 

You looked up to Benny, chin resting on the side of his chest. “You promise to stay right beside me the whole time right?” You puffed out your bottom lip ever so slightly, just enough so that you were giving him your famous puppy dog face, or as he likes to call it the ‘definition of having to say yes’. 

You scanned his face as he looked at you, he offered back a soft, honest smile, “Of course sweetheart. If they try to take you from me I’ll fight them.” Hearing him chuckle at his joke made you giggle in response. “It’s nice to know that not only is my soon-to-be-husband handsome and funny, but he’s also a body guard.” 

By the time Benny returned and you had your chance to calm down, the line finally started moving. You were hoping that the line would move just slow enough that you could convince yourself that this was going to be A-okay; though something deep in the pit of your stomach felt heavy. 

“Tickets please.” the sound of the annoyed teen’s voice pulled you from your worrying brain. You looked to Benny right as he handed over the tickets, ‘Too late to back out now.’ Taking a deep breath you put up the front that there wasn’t an ounce of nerves in your body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Benny wasn’t lying when he said he’d fight someone if they tried to split the two of you up. Right after the two of you had entered, a blood covered butcher was the first to try, and the first to back down. The only other person who tried was a little girl who had dressed as a haunted, cracked porcelain doll. Benny hadn’t actually threatened the kid, but he did do a pretty great job at scaring her shitless. 

“I told you I’d fight whoever I needed, sweetheart.” Benny’s voice was soft as he planted a kiss on your forehead. The two of you stood there a moment, maybe Benny realized that you weren’t feeling the best, or maybe he simply wanted a moment to just yourselves. Even if that happened to be right now in a haunted house.

“We should probably keep moving before others come walking through.” You step back just enough to show that you were okay to continue. Benny studied your face for a moment, ‘Oh no, can he tell that something is wrong?’ But just as the thought entered your head, Benny was offering a soft smile before continuing through the Halloween attraction. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

According to Benny, the two of you were drawing closer to the end, but to you it looked like this thing would keep going on for the rest of your lives. Your grip on Benny’s jacket sleeve at this point was in a white knuckled, death grip. You’d be damned if now would be the time that you get separated, and you knew it was getting obvious that this was quickly becoming too much.

As the two of you entered a new room -this one decorated like an abandoned laboratory- you looked around trying to familiarize yourself with the new surroundings. Benny however, was looking down at you, worried, laced throughout his blue eyes. Looking at Benny you saw his eyes,and the look on his face. As you went to calm him however, the once dimly lit room suddenly went black. The sudden darkness isn’t what tipped you over the edge however, it was the feeling of someone grabbing your shoulders and giving you a little tug. At the feeling of tugging, you felt a not-so-unfamiliar pain shoot through your shoulders. Then at the sound of the whisper in your ear you realized what was happening. ‘I’m way beyond overstimulated,’ Looking towards where you think Benny was standing, you gave an apologetic look and thought to yourself, ‘Sorry Benji.’ Squeezing your eyes shut, you could feel yourself almost…turn off. You no longer were in control. Shoving the person off of you, you felt your feet carry you in the other direction, the direction of the exit. Or so you hoped so. 

With your eyes still closed you felt your body collide with other people, though you couldn’t tell who was another patron, or a scare actor. After the collisions slowed, you finally opened your eyes. Looking around you could tell you were still in the haunted house, but you couldn’t place where. Other than the unfamiliarity of the area, you relished in the relative quietness of the area. Walking closer to the wall, you could feel yourself coming back to your body. Touching the wall you quickly pulled away, the wall felt…wrong. Clenching your jaw, you drop to a sitting position and pull your knees to your chest. You buried your face in your legs, trying to calm yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He could tell something was wrong when they had the last couple of rooms. Something just felt off about you. Maybe it was the way your grip tightened on his jacket sleeve, or maybe it was the subtle way your breathing had changed. Before it was forced deep breaths and now it was ragged quick inhales. Despite having noticed the changes, and prepared for the possible shut down, he wasn’t prepared for the lights to go out. Nor was he prepared for you to let go of his jacket and vanish by the time the lights came back on.

“Sweetheart?” Benny looked around the small room that you had just been in. At first Benny had been relatively calm while looking for you. He had assumed you had found one of the walls of the room and were sitting there. But after walking the parameter and still not finding you, he could feel his own pulse racing. Benny knew you had a hard time in public places because of all of the senses. Going back to the middle of the room Benny stood there a moment, ‘If they’d had run towards the exit, we would have bumped into each other. So that means…’ Looking towards the way back, Benny sighed and made his way through.

Soft ‘sorry’s and ‘pardon me’s left Benny’s lips as he made his way through the crowd. As he walked through the haunted house backwards, Benny noticed the areas that allowed the scareers to hide from view. Walk past each one he would dip his head around the corner and scan the area. The deeper he made it back into the attraction, the more worried he grew for you…and how angry he was at himself. He had promised to not let the two of you get split up, and what was he doing right now? Looking for you because he had failed you, he had broken a promise. Something he had sworn to you the day he proposed to you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Inhale for four, hold for two, exhale for six.’ You kept repeating to yourself in your head, hands under the bend of your legs, fingers rubbing the obsidian worry stone that once lived in your jacket pocket. 

“Sweetheart?” At first the familiar voice and pet name didn’t register in your brain. Somehow he sounded far away, yet so close at the same time. You also didn’t quite register to the following calls either. It wasn't until Benny was crouched in front of you on the floor, his lips saying your name, that it registered that his hand on your arm. You had expected the touch to feel like before, red hot, razor sharp pins being forced into your skin at electric speed; but Benny’s touch wasn’t. While his touch didn’t hurt like hell, it was still unpleasant, like a loose shirt on healing sunburn.

“Hey, you made me even more scared than Will is with snakes.” You could tell he was trying to help by telling stupid jokes because he knew it was what you liked when you didn’t feel your best. You knew he wanted a laugh, a giggle, hell, you knew damn well that he’d even take that huff of air that sometimes happens with reading something dumb, but dumb that borders on being funny. You wanted to give that Benny, you really did. What you didn’t want to do though, was lie about how you’re feeling. 

Shutting your eyes, you move one of your shaking hands to your pocket and drop the smooth stone. Once empty, your hand retreats from the pocket and joins along your other hand, atop your knees. With your hands on your knees, you take a couple of breaths in an attempt to quell the shaking in your hands and the pounding in your chest. As you took your last deep breath, you opened your eyes and locked them with Benny’s bright blue ones. 

“Thank you for finding me,” You smiled softly, in an attempt to help you convince Benny that you’re okay. “Oh and I’m sorry about that whole, running off thing.” You joked weakly. You could tell that your joke wasn’t helping calm your worried fiance. Thinking for a moment you decided to reach out and take Benny’s hands. Once you had his hands in hand, you brought them back to rest on your knees. Without talking, you opened his hands and studied them, running your fingers over the prominent lines at first, before turning over his hands to do the same with the scars that were scattered over his knuckles from the years of boxing. 

After a silent moment you looked at Benny once again, though this time he wasn’t staring at you. Well at least not at your face, instead his eyes were glued to where the two of you were tangled, your hands. Detaching one of your entangled hands, you lifted it to rest on Benny’s cheek. Running your thumb along his cheek you watched as he lifted his blue eyes from your hands, to yours. As you looked at each other you felt Benny pull one of his hands away. Once his hand was in your peripheral, you looked at it and followed it to its resting point. On top of yours. 

“Sweetheart, are you okay? What happened back there?” You could tell Benny was still worried, and you knew he wouldn’t feel one hundred percent better till he knew the truth. The whole truth. Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out. 

“Benji,” He knew that tone and nickname from the times you were crying, or was giving bad news. “You know how I’m sensitive to…well everything?” You watch as he nods, him almost knowing that his talking might be too much for you right now. “Well there’s more to it than that. I have sensory processing disorder, SPD. I’m more sensitive to things. To me sometimes sounds are way louder than they really are, and sometimes light touches feel like slaps.” You take a moment, the sound of your own voice becoming too much. 

“Wh-What happened in there doesn’t happen often. The last time that happened I was a sophomore in high school. I had to give my baby presentation in home economics, and during my presentation a couple of babies went off -mine included- and it became too much. I dropped my papers and kinda speed walked out of the class.” Hearing Benny chuckle helped calm you. 

The two of you sat, hidden behind a fake wall, for a while. Just talking. By the time a worker had found the two of you, you were perfectly content. Benny helped you to your feet and dusted off the dirt on your butt and back. Benny led the way to the entrance -since the two of you were closer to that than the exit- you followed happily behind.

 Once out of the attraction, he led the way to his car. From there the two of you drove around till dawn, talking over the soft music of the car’s radio. Once the yawns started Benny was quick to get home. He was even quicker to get you from your side of the car, unlock the door and let you in. Not only was it quick for him to help strip you of your date clothes, but also help you find your way to your bed. He wrapped his arm around you the second your legs were on the bed, pulling you in close. He kissed the side of your face to the best of his ability, and whispered an ‘I love you’. As soon as the words left his mouth you slipped off to dreamland.