#above all the joy of drawing that face again

[llfreude]

Hélas! si je passe Un jour sans te voir, Je cherche ta trace Dans mon désespoir.

Que le temps me dure - Ludwig van Beethoven, WoO 116, 1793.

[aerynwrites]

Longing

Halsin x Fem!Reader

A/N: I have been burning with an intense CRAVING for Halsin and there is such little fic about him (although there are some good ones out there 👀) so I had to do my part and add to the pool 😏 hope y’all enjoy!

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, reader is insecure about her virginity, talks of inexperience, love confessions, Halsin is a sweetheart, references to NSFW content. Very very minor spoilers for act 2.

Part 2

The fur of the rabbit is soft between your fingers as you prepare it. Yet, despite having a knife in your other hand and your task being a delicate one, you can’t seem to focus.

Your eyes keep drifting back to the druid across camp chopping wood for the fire. The axe is a large one, heavy - heavier than you’d be able to lift. Yet the large elf manages to bring it up above his head and swing it back down with a grace you never understood how he possessed.

The muscles in his shoulders ripple with each movement, accompanying the rythmic thump of the axe through wood. His soft grunts as he pulls it from the stump he’s using before placing the next log onto the surface and starting the process all over again.

“The rabbit is already dead, darling.”

The familiar voice rips you from your staring as your head whips around to see none other than your vampiric companion standing over you, a smirk tugging at his lips. You huff at him before looking down to the rabbit by your knees and heat rushes to your cheeks. What should have been a simple skinning job to get the meat ready for dinner has turned into a mess. Cuts in the wrong places, the hide nowhere near usable anymore.

You look back up just in time to see Astarions red eyes go from you, to Halsin, then back again. His smile grows. He shifts his feet, one arm resting across his chest as he gestures with his other to Halsin.

“You know, you could paint a portrait. It would last longer.”

Your cheeks somehow get even hotter, as you turn back to the rabbit in front of you, doing a much better job than earlier.

“Leave me alone, Astarion,” you mumble, cursing internally when the elf lowers himself to the ground beside you, arms resting on his knees.

“And why would I do that, when teasing you gives me so much joy?”

You can’t stop the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Okay, well you got me all flustered. So now that’s out of the way, did you need something or did you really interrupt your reading to bother me?”

The vampire sighs, leaning back on his hands as he looks over to you. “What I need is for you to finally jump that druids bones.”

You nearly choke as the words leave his lips, looking around to see if anyone heard and feeling heat creep up your neck once more as you see Shadowheart failing to hide a chuckle.

You turn to face your friend, eyes narrowed. “Could you be a little more quiet? I don’t need the whole camp hearing you.”

Astarion laughs this time, loudly, and it draws more glances than you’d like. You roughly shove the man next to you before he can speak.

“Your next words better be a whisper or I’m going to stab you ” you threaten, poking the knife in his direction.

Astarion places a hand over his heart, faux hurt in his eyes. “You wound me, darling. I’m just trying to help you. Plus,” he gestures to the camp, “it’s not like your attraction is a secret, nor Halsin’s.”

You shake your head turning back to grab another rabbit, embarrassment welling up in your chest. “He doesn’t…” you trail off, getting defensive. “Nothing’s there, Astarion. So can we please just drop it?”

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Look,” he starts, “all I’m trying to say is that neither of you are benefiting from holding back so…indulge, for once. Gods know we all deserve it.”

You ignore him. Curling in on yourself at the mention of…indulging. There nothing wrong with it of course. Everyone at camp has blown off steam along this adventure. Just…not you.

And the vampire must be able to tell too, because at your silence he straightens up, brows pinching in the rare way that shows he’s concerned.

“Wait, have you never…?” he gestures vaguely in the air.

His words, despite their genuine curiosity, strike a chord in you. You stand abruptly, tossing your work to the ground and stabbing your knife in the dirt.

“No I haven’t. Not that it’s any of your business.” Your words are louder than you intended and draw the eyes and ears of your other companions.

Astarion softens, obviously not expecting this reaction. “I didn’t mean to upset you-“

You clench your fists at your sides, interrupting him. “You never mean to Astarion but -“ You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. “You��re such an ass sometimes.”

You turn on your heel and storm from camp before anyone can stop you, ignoring the concerned gaze of a certain druid.

———

The water is cool against your skin as you squat by the stream’s edge, rubbing at your hands as you try to get the blood off of them.

You feel foolish now, storming off like that. But Astarion pointing out your inexperience just struck you. It’s not something that’s ever bothered you before. Especially not in recent months since dealing with the tadpole. You all have more important things to worry about.

But the moment you rescued Halsin…it’s like something changed. You were instantly drawn to him. His kind smile and thoughtful words. His care for everyone and everything in nature.

And he flirted with you.

The memory is still fresh in your mind. The night of the tiefling party after you had stopped the ritual at the druid camp and saved Halsin. You were worried you were talking his ear off, but he was attentive the whole conversation. Answering your questions and asking some about you.

Then he said those honeyed words. Suggested celebrating by spending the night with someone special. Implied he would spend it with you if his mind wasn’t elsewhere.

You withdraw your hands from the water to drag them down your face as more memories surface.

More flirtatious banter and kind words. Thoughtful conversations and fighting side by side. The night sat by your bedside nursing you back to health after a particularly nasty fight. After Ketheric Thorm almost took you out.

Your side still aches with the memory. But the thought of his hands with their soothing healing glow, makes the ache subside.

You sigh, sitting back into the grass as your eyes lock onto the slowly gurgling stream, Astarion words playing over and over in your head.

Indulge, for once.

You want to. Gods do you want that.

You’ve spent many sleepless nights thinking about it. About his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, the sweet words he’d no doubt whisper against your ear.

You shudder at the thought before shoving it away. Because any time he hinted at that - showed any interest in you - you would be so elated before insecurity took over.

Halsin’s views on love and intimacy are no secret. You’d asked him once about current lovers and while he did confide no one currently held his affections back home he also expressed that there were others in the past.

Others. Plural.

And you’ve never been with anyone. Not physically or emotionally, you’ve never trusted anyone enough.

Not until now.

You sigh, frustration creeping back in as you press the heels of your palms into your eyes before quickly standing up. You need to apologize to Astarion and finally, maybe, talk to Halsin.

You turn on your heel to do just that when you run straight into a solid mass. You gasp, stumbling backwards just as two strong hands reach out to steady you, gripping your wrists firmly.

Once steady, you look up to see none other than the man haunting your thoughts smiling down at you.

“You must have been very deep in thought for someone like me to sneak up on you, little one.”

You have to suppress a shiver at the nickname. A moniker he’d given you since you teased him about his size at the beginning of your friendship.

You shake your head, moving to step away and only stopping when his hands let go only to slip down and take your own gently.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I was just…thinking.”

Halsin stares at you for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face before he steps away, gesturing down the first path, one hand still in your own.

“Walk with me?” he asks. “I know being in nature helps me clear my head of even the darkest thoughts.”

You give a hesitant nod and follow him as he turns towards the path, not able to stop the smile when he doesn’t drop your hand.

———

The walk is mostly silent, a comfortable silence, but silent nonetheless. And you are grateful for it, not sure what you would say if Halsin were to ask what has you so upset.

But, silence can’t last forever it seems, because eventually the large Druid breaks through the sounds of nature surrounding you to speak.

“I overheard your conversation with Astarion,” he says, voice gentle. Probing, but not not forcing you to talk if you do not wish.

You stiffen, your pace slowing slightly, wanting to pull away from the man at your side. But his sure grip on your hand keeps you in place. The warmth of his skin on yours puts you slightly at ease.

“You…you heard that?” you ask, cringing internally. “You were across camp.”

The druid chuckles, gesturing to his ears with his free hand. “One of the curses of us elves. Impeccable hearing. Even when we don’t wish for it.”

You can feel your shoulders creeping up to your ears. Embarrassment settling in once more. “You were listening to us? To me?”

Halsin shrugs. “Not intentionally,” he admits, slowing his steps until you’re both stopped and he’s facing you. “But I find my attention turning towards you more often than not these days.”

His words tie your tongue and before you can gather enough sense to respond he continues.

“Nature works in mysterious ways, little one,” he tells you, eyes never leaving your face. “There is no one way to traverse it, and others journey do not define your own. Each one is unique, as it is intended.”

His words are beautifully woven, as always. And despite his cryptic deliverance, you know the meaning behind his words.

He’s comforting you. And once again, he speaks before you can detangle the jumble of thoughts in your head.

“And,” he reaches out, placing a curled finger beneath your chin to urge you to look up at him, “if it’s any encouragement, I seek you out as much as you do me. Possibly more so.”

Your eyes widen, heart stuttering in your chest at his words. He…does he feel the same way? Rationally you know he does. But that ever familiar self doubt, the tiny voice in your mind has always brushed away the flirting - the kind words and gentle touches as just part of his nature. None of it is reserved just for you.

Right?

Halsin smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners gently as he looks down at you. “Is that really such an outlandish thought? That I return your affections?” He pauses, “unless my heart has run ahead of itself and I have misread-“

You stop him then, reaching up to place a staying hand on his own beneath your chin.

“No! You haven’t…you haven’t misread,” you assure him, trying to still your racing heart.

His smile never falters, his other hand finally coming up to cradle the back of your head, teasing soft strands of hair between his fingers.

“That is good to hear,” he says, pulling you ever closer, his nose almost brushing yours, “it puts this old druid's mind at rest.”

Gods, you can’t breathe. The air in your lungs refusing to expel as he lean even closer, lips a hairbreadth away from your own. Your body sings with anticipation, your skin hot despite the cool air ushered in by the sun sinking below the horizon, the days last rays barely filtering through the trees.

“Can I kiss you, my heart?”

Halsins words are soft, barley a whisper and nearly drowned out by the sounds of nature around you and the roaring of blood in your ears.

You nod. “Please-“

The word barely passes your lips before he descends upon you, sealing his mouth with your own.

It’s both everything you expected and completely surprising at the same time. His hands are sure as he pulls you into him, one hand still cradling your head as the other slips down to your hip before wrapping around your waist. Yet his lips, the kiss itself is…soft. Gentle. Loving. The action speaks louder than any words either of you have said to one another. Louder than the words you never worked up the courage to speak.

Finally, your mind catches up with you, and your hands slide up his chest to clutch tentatively at his shoulders.

Halsins still hasn’t broken away from you, and when his tongue brushes against your lips you let him in. You tug him closer then, one of your hands sliding up to rest at the back of his neck eliminating any empty space between you as his tongue slides against your own.

He only pulls away when he must sense your need for air, but he doesn’t go far, lips pressing gently to the corner of your own, and then another to your jaw.

You’re breathless.

Chest heaving against him, as he pulls away just enough to look at you once more.

“As much as I’d love to continue…” his hand squeezes your hip gently, “we should make our way back to camp. I can imagine our absence as stirred gossip with our vampiric companion and..” he sighs, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

You can’t surprise the shiver that runs down your spine, or the smile that tugs at your lips.

“I’m…I’m okay being overwhelmed if it’s like that,” you tell him breathlessly.

Halsin laughs, a deep down genuine laugh that makes your heart sing even as he steps away from you.

“Then I will overwhelm you in all the ways I know how.” He promises, eyes trailing over you heatedly.

Your stomach does a flip at his words, and the effect they have on you must show on your face because Halsin chuckles again, leaning in to press one last kiss to your cheek before tugging you back in the direction towards camp.

“Another night, my heart,” he says, thumb brushing over your knuckles from where your hand remains in his own.

You let out a shaky breath, and nod, smiling as you walk closer to him. “I’m holding you to that.”

“I hope you would, though I doubt I will forget such a promise,” he assures before letting silence blanket you both one more.

You can’t stop the thrill that runs through you at his words.

Yes, I’ll hold you to that promise indeed.

[callsigns-haze]

I love your Tyler fics so much, I just love imagining dad/husband Tyler 😭😭 can I please request something where he always introduces her to people as “my wife”? Like they’re newlyweds and he just loves slipping in “wife” whenever he can 🥹

The Weight of a Word

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Chapter of all fluff

A/N: So I reached 500 followers today and got a few fics done...

The sky above them was a shifting tapestry of dark clouds, a fitting backdrop for the storm-chasing team that had just reunited. The air was thick with tension, the thrill of the chase palpable in every glance and gesture. But amidst the chaos, there was a lightness to Tyler Owens, a quiet joy that radiated from him like sunshine breaking through the storm clouds.

Tyler stood by the team’s van, his arm casually draped over Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her close. They had been together for years now, but something had changed in the past few months—something that Tyler couldn’t quite keep to himself, no matter how hard he tried. He was still basking in the glow of their recent wedding, the memory of saying “I do” still fresh and vivid in his mind. It was a feeling he cherished, a pride that he carried with him everywhere they went.

���Tyler!” one of the team members called, approaching with a wide grin. “You ready for this? We’ve got a big one heading our way.”

Tyler nodded, his eyes flicking from the sky to his teammate, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to share his happiness, had to let the world know how lucky he was. “Yeah, we’re ready,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face as he gave Y/N’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “By the way, have you met my wife?”

There it was again—that word. It rolled off his tongue so easily now, but every time he said it, he felt a surge of pride and love. Wife. The title still felt new, like a shiny badge he got to wear every day, and he couldn’t help but show it off. He turned to Y/N, his eyes sparkling with affection, and she smiled back at him, clearly amused by how much he enjoyed saying it.

The teammate chuckled, extending a hand to Y/N. “Nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Y/N replied with a grin, shaking his hand.

Tyler watched the exchange, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. He loved seeing her here, a part of his world, blending into the life he led so effortlessly. And more than that, he loved the way she looked at him when he called her his wife, like she was just as thrilled by the title as he was.

As they continued to prepare for the storm, Tyler couldn’t resist sneaking in the word whenever he got the chance. Introducing her to anyone new, he would say it with that same proud grin—“This is my wife.” Even in casual conversation with the team, it slipped in naturally: “My wife thinks this storm is going to be a big one,” or “We’ve been talking about this since before we got married.”

It wasn’t just the word itself that mattered, though it did make him feel like he was part of something bigger, something more meaningful. It was the way Y/N’s eyes lit up every time he said it, the way she would squeeze his hand or lean into him just a little bit closer. It was the way she made him feel like he was doing something right, just by loving her, just by being proud to call her his.

As the storm began to close in, the team started moving with more urgency, checking their equipment and finalizing their plans. But even in the midst of the chaos, Tyler couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at Y/N every now and then, his heart swelling with affection. They had always been a team, but this was different. This was forever.

“Tyler,” Y/N said softly, drawing his attention as they stood together, watching the sky. “You know you don’t have to keep introducing me like that, right?”

He looked at her, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I know, but I can’t help it. I just… I love saying it. I love the way it feels.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head slightly, but the warmth in her eyes told him she understood. “Well, I love hearing it. So I guess we’re both happy.”

Tyler leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and then pulled back to look at her. “I promise, I’ll never get tired of calling you my wife.”

“And I’ll never get tired of being your wife,” she replied, her voice soft and sincere.

As the wind picked up and the first raindrops began to fall, Tyler knew they had to focus on the task at hand. But even as they ran to their positions, as the storm loomed ever closer, he couldn’t shake the joy that filled him every time he said that word.

Wife.

It was more than just a title; it was a promise, a declaration of his love, a reminder of the life they had chosen to build together. And no matter how many storms they faced, no matter how wild the weather got, Tyler knew that this was the one thing that would always anchor him, the one thing that mattered most.

As they stood side by side, ready to face whatever the storm would bring, Tyler took Y/N’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. And with a smile that reached his eyes, he whispered one last time, just for the two of them:

“My wife.”

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

[arainbowofchaos]

Mentally Physically Weak

pair: Jungkook x reader

genre : smut with some plot

word count: 3,5k

summary: Jungkook is waiting for you outside your workplace, a cigarette in his mouth, and you can hardly believe your luck. Above all, you're acutely aware of how weak you are for him, and you want to savor this moment as if it were the last.

[A/N]: Yesterday brought a whirlwind of events, and I couldn't resist the urge to pour out my heart for Jungkook.

You've never felt like this before, you're sure of it. That gnawing feeling in your stomach, that palpable excitement coursing through your body, that occasional wave of nausea flooding you because you're experiencing so many emotions at once. And you can't deny that it's invigorating, even if sometimes it feels like you're losing control. Something is exciting about giving yourself completely to him.

You watch Jungkook casually leaning against the wall of the store across from where you work. This is your moment, something you can enjoy before he notices your presence. He smokes, enveloped in a cloud of smoke that he exhales into the night air after putting the cigarette between his lips. The sight makes your stomach turn, as it seems surreal. It's late and darkness covers the sky. You're not sure if you're shivering because the cold of October is setting in or because of the anticipation that this man is waiting for you.

At last, Jungkook sees you, and as you gaze into each other's eyes across the distance, his expression changes, and softens, and a broad smile spreads across his face. His eyes shine with excitement, and you can feel his joy at finding you again. He throws away his cigarette and extinguishes it, as if he had only used it to relieve boredom, before joining you.

A colleague who leaves after you wishes you a good evening, and you wave to him. You see his gaze fix on Jungkook for a moment, and you realize he's confused. It's amazing how readily people judge your personal life. He sees this tall, imposing, black-clad figure with the look of a bad boy waiting for you in the night and thinks, "What is she doing with a guy like that?" He doesn't see that behind the tattoos and piercings are the kindest heart in the world and the most comforting arms you've ever found.

You wait impatiently for the light to turn green, and when it finally does, Jungkook is the first to run across the crosswalk to reach you. He moves gracefully, his dark curls dancing in the wind. As he approaches you, he leans down slightly to meet you at eye level, his hand resting on your cheek, and just like that, he leans forward to place his cool lips on yours. Your body warms just from the contact of his palm with your face, his fingers run tenderly over your skin. The trembling intensifies, and you feel like you could burst into tears at any moment. Why does it feel so incredible to be in his presence, to have him so close?

"Hey baby, you okay? Tough day, huh?" His voice sounds concerned - it cuts through the air like a rocket, and you don't have time to answer his questions before he wraps you in a strong hug. You might as well pass out; you trust him to take care of your lifeless body. The day has been so long, you're exhausted, and you just want him to take care of you. You shake your head as your face is buried in his t-shirt. "My baby is tired, I can feel it. What if I take you home?" This time you nod, relieved that he understands without you having to express yourself.

You and Jungkook didn't speak the same language. You didn't have the same culture or the same kind of profession. He's younger than you are. You met him when you came to Busan for your job. He loves music, photography, and drawing. He's an artist who enjoys life by creating what he loves, and you admire him for it. You're a product of the corporate world you’ve worked in for the last six years, and although you love your job, you're often exhausted by the endless days and relentless pace. When you met Jungkook, you immediately fell in love with this boy for whom life was an adventure while you knew only constraints.

Jungkook takes your hand firmly in his, and your heart beats a little faster at the difference in size; yours is so much smaller that it gets lost in his. He's so much more than you - smarter, funnier, more attractive; he's everything you could dream of in a human being. And you're shocked at the depth of your feelings. It often happens that you imagine a world where he has left you - and you don't know what you'd do, how you could find joy in life after a man made you feel so alive.

Your parents don't appreciate him, even without having met him yet. They've seen photos of him on your social media, and they're disgusted to see you wasting your time with a punk. You reassure them by explaining that Jungkook is a good person and that his appearance is due to his creative side, but they view your relationship with disapproval. From their perspective, they're mainly concerned that you've found an anchor besides your work, which implies that you have no intention of returning to your homeland. They are selfish; they want to see their daughter come back.

As you walk hand in hand with Jungkook through the dimly lit streets of the approaching autumn, his thumb gently caresses your wrist simply because he can't resist, and you continue to melt under his touch. You observe Jungkook as he gazes up at the sky, smiling. You dream of being able to live in his imagination; you're certain it's a beautiful place where the two of you could be happy together without any obstacles getting in the way.

"You're very uh… quiet tonight, do you want to talk?" Jungkook's accent is something that melts your heart - the way he searches for his words for you, the efforts he puts in to get better to understand you even more. It's his way of showing you that he's there for you, that you can confide in him at any moment. He can’t give you grand speeches about anything; he just wants you to be able to relax in his presence. You feel like you should talk if only to reassure him.

"Sorry... I'm a bit overwhelmed right now," you manage to articulate, then add, with a big smile and starry eyes, as you do every time you look at him, "Thank you for coming to pick me up; I can't imagine a better way to end my day." Your voice is almost shy. You could laugh at yourself for it; you've never been the shy type, but this man has a hold on you.

"Aww, it's nothing. I just wanted to see you," he responds, singing it out, "The day isn't over yet, want to eat something?" he asks with a strong sense of enthusiasm.

"I'm really craving Indian food, what do you think?" you suggest, and he eagerly agrees before scooping you into his arms and shouting, "Yayy, cheese naan!!!" Passersby look at you with surprise; some are taken aback by the sudden burst of excitement, while others offer kind smiles. And you, you continue to melt, slowly, in his arms, losing yourself in his embrace and his intoxicating scent that leaves your head spinning… You can't help but be constantly charmed by his unwavering enthusiasm. He's up for any plan as long as it means you're together, and especially if he can fill his belly at the same time...

Half an hour later, you find yourself seated on the terrace of your favorite Indian restaurant. It's not overly upscale, and you've always had a mild uncertainty about its hygiene standards. However, the food is undeniably delicious, and you've never experienced any health issues, so that's what truly matters. As the meal arrives, Jungkook eagerly devours his dish, and you barely eat yours. Ever since you met him, you've struggled with eating as if your body no longer requires sustenance beyond his presence.

Jungkook playfully dips his naan into your palak paneer, and you feign outrage while he chuckles at his joke. His eyes light up so much that you can hardly see them, his dimples etched into his handsome face, and his smile is on full display. Your heart races when you witness his happiness, you can't help it. You lean in slightly from your chair to surprise him with a kiss, causing him to stop laughing. He reciprocates with a more serious, urgent kiss that leaves you slightly off balance. He gently bites your lip, signaling his intentions, and you can't help but release a soft moan in response.

"Let's finish up and head home, huh?" His mischievous look speaks volumes about his eagerness to return. You blush because you know exactly what he means, and you signal the waiter to request a takeout box for the remainder of your dish. You're no longer hungry for food, only for his touch. 

It turns out that when Jungkook talks about home, he could just as easily be referring to your apartment or his - as long as it's just the two of you, it's your home. Since the Indian restaurant is closer to your place, you naturally head there after your meal. Upon entering your building, Jungkook nestles against your back, his hands gently encircling your hips, and his face finds solace in the curve of your neck as he plants tender kisses. You shiver, feeling your heart race in your chest. Even though you've been dating for months, you're still not entirely accustomed to this sensation; every time feels like the first.

You swiftly ascend the stairs, and with fervor, you open the door to your apartment, a tangible passion building up for the man still standing close behind you, ready to engulf you with affection.

"I want a dessert," Jungkook whispers against your lips with a quivering voice as you both find yourselves out of sight in the privacy of your living room. It becomes clear just how much your presence affects him.

"Go ahead and treat yourself," you innocently reply, pretending not to catch on to his intentions.

"Ah, that's what I had in mind," he retorts with a mischievous grin. At his words you feel Jungkook's hands move down to your ass and grip it, you moan softly as you can feel your body going weak in his hands.

Every time, it's the same old story – you feel like a toy in his skilled hands. Your legs can barely carry you to your room, so he lifts you, and you cling to him like a koala. In a hushed tone, you whisper that you love him. You told him after just a week, so you no longer have any reason to be ashamed of anything. The moment you laid eyes on him, you knew you were done for. Jungkook has always responded positively to your declarations, and even now, he's quick to reassure you with an "I love you too." But deep down, you understand that he may never experience emotions as intense and all-consuming as yours. The truth is, he could ask you for anything, and you would do it without a second thought. You'll never admit it to anyone, but the way he looks at you keeps you alive. When you don't see him for a few days, you can feel how your enthusiasm for life is waning. The only way to lift your spirits is to think of him and his beautiful, goofy smile.

He gently places you on the bed and then lies on top of you, cradling your head in his hands. With intense sincerity, he whispers, "You're so beautiful," and you plead with eyes that are practically begging, "Jungkook, please kiss me." His face descends to yours, and his lips find yours effortlessly. He kisses you passionately as if it were the last time and your heart races. You desire him like you've never desired anyone before. Hearing his voice and feeling his touch never grows old. Between kisses, you continue to implore, tears glistening in your eyes in the dim light, "Please, don't ever leave me." 

You might come across as foolish, but that doesn't matter. When you become emotional, all you need is reassurance. It's your yearning for something absolute in a foreign land with a man who's not from your world. You want a forever happy ending, even though you know it's not possible, despite the promises of fidelity. In your case, you want him to be as free as he desires. It holds no value if he stays with you out of pity or because you ask him to. You'd like him to be just as consumed by his desire to be with you. And tonight, it seems to be the case, and that's enough for you.

“I’ll never leave you, baby,” he promises solemnly. You don’t want to think about the value of his promise as he undoes the buttons of your blouse to let your chest meet the cool air of the room and goosebumps appear on your skin. "You are cold." he observes “I’m going to make you hot.” and he smiles innocently, you think, he shouldn't have the right to be so angelic when he has just undone your bra with one hand behind your back without you even realizing it. Jungkook gets rid of your clothes that hinder his path to your breasts. He envelops your nipple in his mouth and does not neglect the other by enveloping it in his hand. Everything is hot and your head falls back on the bed as moans escape your lips. You feel the excitement spreading between your legs and you know that tonight again, it won't take you long to meet the stars. 

You feel his tongue move expertly and like every time you continue to beg him for more “Jungkook, please, I want to feel you.” your hands are lost in his soft, raven-black hair and he lifts his head, your breast still in his mouth as he smiles, the same mischievous smile from earlier “And my dessert?” he asks, laughing. He knows the effect he has on you since he stops playing with you for a moment to come back to your face and place a kiss on the tip of your nose. “I’ll have my dessert and then you can feel me, okay baby?”

You nod eagerly because you know what he means. He stands up and unzips your skirt to remove it completely, leaving you in just your panties, lying vulnerable under his gaze. "You are beautiful," he repeats to make sure you heard correctly. Jungkook kneels on the ground in front of you, and his arms grab behind your thighs to drag you to him. You let out a cry of surprise at the force of his gesture, and he laughs tenderly at your reaction. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he says as if it were normal while you can barely breathe at the idea that he was even thinking about you. “I see you’re wet,” he says and you know he's praising you “Can I taste you?” he asks for permission, and you respond by removing your underwear for him, leaving your complete nudity in view. Jungkook licks his lips, playing with his piercing in the process, looking into your eyes, then his gaze returning between your legs “Gosh, so pretty.” and he fucking smiles.

You close your eyes when his face disappears between your legs and you feel his tongue playing with your clit, getting straight to the point. You can’t stop the moans that escape your throat, and soon you can’t think at all. His hands caress your hips while his mouth devours your most intimate area and you can do nothing but feel all the good he does to you. You need him; feeling him so close to you is never enough. “Jungkook… more please.” you plead and he pauses, lifting his head to look you in the eyes, his lips and chin covered in your juices “I like it when you… uh… when you beg me? That's right?" and you can't believe this is the time he chose for an English lesson. You nod and rephrase “I’m begging you Jungkook, please give me more.” 

He laughs softly, proud to see you so needy for him and to improve his vocabulary in bed. His hand replaces where his face was a few seconds before, and his finger comes to caress your clit, before moving lower between your folds, a moment later and you feel two fingers inside you. You gasp, your breath hitching as he pushes his fingers inside you in a back-and-forth motion that makes you salivate. You've lost all logic and ability to think as you take what he gives you with incoherent moanings. 

“I want you,” he says suddenly, sensing that you are ready for him. You come out of your trance to open your eyes and see that he is looking at you with a much darker gaze than before. That's where he finally gives you the show you've been waiting for, getting up to take off his black t-shirt, and leaving his bulging muscles and sleeve of tattoos in view for you to admire. He also takes off his cargo pants, his massive erection not very well hidden under his underwear “Do you like the view?” he asks with a smirk and you blush, unable to respond to his comment. He gets rid of his boxer and your eyes roll behind your eyelids at the sight of his length standing proudly in front of you. You feel weak for him—mentally and physically. You're acutely aware of what lies ahead, and every fiber of your being quivers with eager anticipation. Jungkook enters you effortlessly, as you are always ready for him, no matter the moment. 

Often, nothing seems to make sense, but in moments like this, when he makes love to you and you can see the most profound adoration in his eyes, you feel genuinely ecstatic to be alive. You can hear his adorable grunt every time you clench around him, adding sensation, and it sends shivers down your spine. He exudes an irresistible charm effortlessly. You only feel complete in his presence, and you thank the universe for putting this luminous being on your path. Jungkook kisses you again, going back and forth, and you can barely respond to his kiss because of how full you feel. You moan nonsense and he speaks things that you can barely make out. Your tongues duel and it's dirty and messy and perfect. You tremble from head to toe, lost in his embrace.

He pulls out of you and orders you to turn around, which you do immediately. You lie down on your stomach and feel him position himself behind you, his cock at your entrance before coming back inside you deeply, a new angle allowing you to feel him even better. You scream, tears streaming down your cheeks as your head rests on the cool mattress. Jungkook continues to increase his pace, letting you chase your orgasm, the sweet melody of skin on skin echoes through the room before he seductively asks you, “Please cum for me, baby.” Tears of pleasure continue to stream as he taps against your sensitive and delicious spot, and you finally end up seeing the stars while shouting his name. “Jungkook” you exhale, delirious, as he continues a few more thrusts before cumming inside you as well.

When you come back to reality, he's lying on top of you - careful not to put his full weight on you either - he's reciting praises to you in Korean and your heart aches at the thought of him being comfortable enough to let go in his native language. He places kisses on your shoulder before pulling out. You feel him moving behind before he comes back to gently clean up the mess he made. After that, he lies down next to you, drawing you close into his embrace once more. The two of you remain there, locked in a tender hug, for a few precious minutes. And then, he utters those words that resonate deep within your heart, "I will never leave you." A warm, contented smile graces your face as you bury it into his sweaty, bare chest, finding solace and security in his unwavering promise.

What remains etched in your memory is the fact that you have this one more night with him, and in this fleeting moment, that's all that truly matters. The ability to revel in these stolen moments of intimacy with him fills you with profound gratitude. Wrapped in his loving embrace, the world beyond fades into insignificance – the desperate glances of your colleagues, the reproachful words of your parents – all become distant echoes.

Regardless of what anyone else thinks or what the uncertain future may hold, you banish those concerns from your mind. In this singular instant, you crave nothing more than to bask in the comforting cocoon of his embrace, to savor the warmth of his presence for one more night.

[grandline-fics]

Hi! Can I request OP men (monster trio, Ace, Law, or anyone ur comfy with doing!) reaction to reader becoming self conscious and suddenly anxious when there are too many ppl around and they try to ground them? It could be a crowd or even members from the ship! Thank you ^^

DESCRIPTION: You’re anxious when there’s too many people around

WARNINGS:  none

CHARACTERS: Luffy, Zoro

WORDS: 1,318

A/N:  Thank you for this request. I wanted to do more scenarios with some of the other OP men but could only manage two this time. I loved this idea so there'll be a part two in the future. I hope you like what I came up with for this

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

LUFFY

Wherever Luffy goes, a crowd is sure to follow. Whether its civilians drawn to his free and infectious nature or rivals getting into his face as a challenge that he doesn’t back down from the end result is always the same; very little breathing room because of the mass of people. For the most part you were used to this constant buzz of noise and cluster of presences but tonight it was getting to be too much for you. After a long battle of fighting groups of enemies to be immediately dragged into an all out celebration, you were reaching your limit of what you could take. 

You didn’t want to be rude to the people who were grateful for you playing your part in securing their freedom and leave the conversations or festivities too early but when eyes weren’t on you, you were definitely searching for something that could allow you to disappear without drawing too much attention or cause any offence. You breathed a sigh of relief when the current civilian you were talking to left you to grab something to eat. Idly sipping at your own drink you inched further away from the main hub of people, trying to feel some sense of security in a quieter section.

Suddenly from above you heard the loud and all too familiar laughter of your Captain that was already causing an infectious smile to pull at your lips before you had even looked up. Perched high on the town’s clocktower was Luffy, using the stone lion fixture adorning the rooftop as his own personal seat to look over the entire town’s celebration. Because your weren’t amongst the crowd you were easier to spot and when he saw you smiling up at him he grinned wide. 

Immediately he launched his arm out towards you and without waiting for your response he took your arm and pulled you through the air to land safely on the roof with him. Now out from the almost suffocating crowd you finally got a moment to breathe and look down at the view of the town now far enough away for you to appreciate the atmosphere and beauty of their joy. You smiled and settled down to sit next to your Captain, finally able to relax. “So why’re you all the up here in the first place? Would’ve thought you’d have more fun down there with the people.”

“Started to get annoyed when they kept calling me a hero, all I wanted was to eat.” Luffy explained with a grin, moving his enormous hoard of food back onto his lap to continue eating. “Besides when I saw the lion up here it made me think of the Sunny.” You smiled at the simplistic answer and looked at the fixture in question. As nice as it was, it paled in comparison to Sunny. You couldn’t help but let out a small sigh which didn’t go unnoticed by Luffy. He recalled how you hadn’t be with anyone before he brought you up here. “You not having fun?”

“Not exactly.” You shrugged, unable to lie to someone so open and honest with their feelings as Luffy was. You could always trust him to listen and not dismiss your feelings. “It’s just been a lot since we landed here. The people are friendly but it was beginning to feel like I couldn’t breathe around them. It was just getting to be a bit much.”

“How do you feel now?” Luffy asked curiously, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable either. 

“A lot better, definitely like I can breathe again.” You reassured with a bright grin that Luffy returned while also reminding himself to always check on you while in a crowd like this from now on. 

ZORO

Why did you have to land on an island that was virtually a Marine base in its own right? As much as you and some of the others wanted to leave and journey to the next island, Luffy’s orders were final and he wanted to stay. Just because there were a ton of Marines stationed on this island and lived here with their families, why should he change what he wanted to do. As much as you wanted to protest your Captain you knew no amount of logic or begging would change his determination to explore freely. 

The most everyone could compromise on was the promise to keep as low a profile as possible and only engage the Marines if-and only if-your cover was blown. To ensure that disaster of a situation didn’t happen, the more level-headed members of the crew paired up with the more instinctual and chaotic members. Today you were left to walk the town with Zoro, the added element of ensuring he didn’t wander off into areas that would certainly spell trouble meant your worries were doubling. Every step you made through the streets, you swept a nervous glance around trying to keep track of anyone in a Marine uniform while also trying to pinpoint escape routes if the worst did happen.

“You need to relax.” Zoro muttered from beside you and you flinched, your already tense body coiling even tighter. You looked up at him with widened eyes. “You’re going to draw their attention and blow our cover.” At that you bristled but then panic set in and you couldn’t help but look around you again. With a sharp sigh, Zoro turned his body so he was blocking you from view and more importantly you could only look at him. “If you’re getting nervous about keeping a low profile but keep looking around the way that you are, people are going to end up taking notice and cause suspicion.” You opened your mouth to argue but you couldn’t, not when he was making sense. Still you couldn’t just relax the way he was telling you to. Zoro watched you carefully and frowned. “What’s got you so wound up anyway? What’s your biggest worry here?”

“Look around you!” You whispered. “Everyone is either a Marine or related to one. If we get caught-”

“We’ll deal with it as a crew like we always do.” Sometimes Zoro’s clear cut view of a situation was a reassurance but other times it was annoying. Dealing with a situation that could have been avoided in the first place was not what you wanted and wouldn’t necessarily work out as perfect as it would in his head. 

“I just don’t want to be the reason one of us gets hurt when fighting didn’t need to be an option.” You shrugged helplessly. You didn’t want to seem weak, especially not to someone like Zoro but you couldn’t change how you felt in that moment. “I can’t be so laidback like you, sorry.”

Zoro rolled his good eye but threw you a small smirk to show he wasn’t annoyed. Silently he took your arm and swapped your original walking position. While he managed to keep one arm lazily around your shoulder, he also managed to be just ahead of you enough that his three swords were in front of you, almost like a shield. “As long as you’re part of the crew we work together and do our part to protect each other, yeah? So until someone spots us just relax and try not to look so panicked otherwise it looks like I’m kidnapping you.” 

At that you laughed for the first time since arriving on the island and nudged his side while making no move to step out from his arm. It was strange how just being like this managed to calm you immensely. “Let’s hope Sanji doesn’t see. He’ll attack you on the spot and that’ll definitely blow our cover.”

“Yeah…would be worth it though.” Zoro grinned only to wince when you nudged his ribs a little harder. “I was kidding!” Well for the most part he was. 

[alastorss]

𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 — 𝑨𝑳𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

𝑨𝑪𝑻 𝑰 — 𝑻𝑶 𝑫𝑬𝑽𝑶𝑼𝑹 ☽ series masterlist | other works

syn. The Radio Demon gathers your wrist and presses kisses along your pulse, stopping when he feels it racing beneath his lips. Gently, he sinks his teeth into your flesh just above your vein, enough to draw a taste of blood, before lapping at the spillage like nectar.

He’ll let you frolic around in his daydreams a little longer—allow you to sip from the chalice and taste mortal life again. It would make your flesh all the sweeter when he finally digs in.

“You are strange,” he murmurs against your skin.

“And you bite too hard,” you complain.

warnings: literal and metaphorical cannibalism, non-sexual biting, soul selling, blood and violence, co-dependency, probably slightly toxic relationship, alastor is a whole walking warning. wc: 5.7k

𝑰 𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑬𝑨𝑻 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻

The Devil is beautiful beyond comparison.

Wrapped in silky red and black from head to toe; drenched in the colour and stench of blood; he’s dressed to the nines as if tonight will be his last. He stands seven feet tall—eight or nine if you trace all the way to the tips of his antlers now strung with the flesh and sinew of freshly slaughtered buffalo. 

You think for a brief moment that he is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, hypnotized by the twirling of his cane. Only divinity could dare to be this breathtaking, yet here he is before you defying all heavensent rules. Unsure of whether you’ll ever stand so close yet so far from Heaven again, you reach out to touch him just to test if he is even real.

The Devil has a suave smile that makes his eyes crinkle in joy, teeth yellow and baring at you. A threat, you think, but you don’t care. His smile shrinks and grows in an endless cycle as you run a hand up and down the front of his coat, corduroy smooth beneath the pads of your fingers.

You recognize this look he’s giving you: who do you think you are? A filthy sinner begging The Devil for salvation? How pathetic.

And yet he seems equally entranced by your touch, as if you are the first. Somehow, he pierces you with his eyes but you can tell that he’s looking straight through you. A silly, powerless fool like you isn’t even worth his eyes.

Despite his apathy, he was the one who intervened with your early demise when he could have just as easily been on his merry way. Venison is best when fresh—that’s what he told the butcher. But it was spoiling in his hands the longer he stood there between you and the door, urging you to leave and simultaneously gluing you to the floor.

The Devil saved your life framed in the harsh red of the underworld.

Light pours in through the door he has blocked, illuminating his frame in warm shades of amber and crimson. His eyes shimmer in the shadow it casts on him, you realize. They glow like fireflies—yellow and flickering.

“You are wounded,” he suddenly points out as he towers over you. At first he seems taken aback by his own observation, as if he hadn’t meant to speak his thoughts into existence, but then it mellows into something along the lines of morbid amusement. Amused by your mortality—the mark of a demon.

Sinners were nothing more than sacks of meat and blood, after all. No less than they were when they were alive on Earth.

The question drifts dangerously through your mind: is he not a Sinner just as much as I am?

Static cracks in his throat, an eerie jazz tune faintly floating through the air, and you know then that you must be wrong. Regular Sinners do not know souls like the dozens you can hear screaming in the background of his smooth jazz.

“Help me. Please?” Your fingers dip into your wound and you cry out weakly in pain. His smile only grows.

Poor little lamb, so sweet and trusting. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought you waltzed right into this shop knowing that the butcher wanted to flay you open.

“Unfortunately, I am not interested in…” He leans down so his face hovers just above yours. “Charity.”

From this angle, he can see the subtle widening of your eyes. The way your pulse jumps in your throat, deliciously afraid. You reek of fear and something else he can’t quite place. It makes him salivate.

The Devil is cold to the touch—death incarnate. You hadn’t noticed until your hands were on his face, his neck, lathering down his chest, nails raking deep marks into his skin.

“I’ll give you my soul.”

“I have plenty of souls, my dear. More than you could possibly imagine! What good would yours do in my collection, hm?”

Yes, what good would your soul be to someone like him? At the end of the day, your name would be drowned out by the endless sea of his other contracts. Forgotten and abandoned, the last piece of your identity. There’s only one way you could be more than those before you.

“I can do anything. I can be anything. Just name it.”

“Oh?” He hums with a raised brow, intrigued by the offer of the soul and body. “And if I said I wanted you to be my dinner tonight?”

You swallow nervously. “Then I would present myself to you on a silver platter.”

He laughs at this, clearly humoured by your answer. “You’ve got yourself a deal!”

And that is how it came to be: a lowly Sinner and an Overlord of Hell—forever intertwined by the messy entanglement of your souls.

Forevermore, you used to joke with your fingers braiding marigolds into his hair. Oh, how he misses that laughter so.

𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑳𝑺 𝑫𝑶

The four walls of Alastor’s radio station become your only friends.

You learn that there isn’t much to talk to besides the walls anyhow, since the microphone and anything else on Alastor’s sprawling desk is off limits. Even he himself is not around very often, sometimes disappearing for days on end and coming back stinking of rotten flesh and blood, of which you have become acquainted.

You also learn that he likes things in a particular way.

For example, you may only see your reflection once every day. I hate it when my food has an ego—that’s what he had told you once. And you are only allowed to eat whatever he hand-feeds you. That is the life of a pet, after all, and you are nothing but a glorified domestic animal he has chained to his wall.

One day passes and he does not devour you like he originally intended. Then two. Then five. Eventually, you lose space on the wall to make another tally mark, so you resort to counting in your head until you forget how to track time.

“Usually people take their dogs for walks,” you once jested to him after he signed off his morning broadcast and sat there staring at the wall for a while.

He only gazed at you lazily from across the room for a moment before rolling his chair over to you and tilting your head back by the chin. He dipped his thumb between your teeth until you chewed on him and told you:

“How convenient it is that you aren’t a dog, then!”

You never brought it up again, not because you were afraid of him swallowing you whole where you stood, but because he tasted of death itself and you would rather avoid having his thumb in your mouth.

The third thing you learn is that he’s not all that scary so long as he deems you entertaining and obedient enough. Overlords—that’s what Alastor calls the ones who own souls—come and go and usually never return.

You earn raised brows and questioning looks. He often challenges them with his eyes: go on, ask me! Ask about my new pet so I have a good enough reason to dirty my coat with your filth.

The ones who pipe up about your presence are the ones who end up as wavelengths in his show. Alastor is quite protective of his pets, you see. What’s his is his, and what isn’t will be his one day. In his own sadistic, twisted ways, he is actually quite a good owner.

You’ve learned the loneliness that comes with being his pet, too.

Loneliness so empty that it swallows your lungs until you can’t breathe. A loneliness that crushes your ribs to dust. The familiar hum of jazz music became your most cherished companion.

Solitude is a funny thing. It plays tricks on the mind, drives people mad. Even Alastor can’t be immune to it, in his defense. You wonder if that’s why he’s opted to do nothing but stare at you from his desk for the night.

Soft whispers and laughter fill the room, voices enchanting you with their poetry. They buzz from the demon’s radio which is perched by his head where it rests on the table.

The room is illuminated only by the tiny lamp on his desk and the artificial glow of moonlight. He has decided to grace you with several blankets after weeks of your complaints of the radio tower being too drafty. They’re wrapped unceremoniously around you.

“What?” You ask him from the sofa after he’s been staring for far longer than he usually would.

He offers you a moment of relief as he tears his eyes away from you, like he had not even realized he was staring so intensely. But then they’re back on you in an instant, boring through your soul.

The soul he owns.

“I’ve never…” He trails off, seeming as if he can’t decide whether or not you are worth conversation.

Your head tilts to the side in confusion, watching him carefully consider his next words. Finally, he goes back to listening to the whispers and chattering from his noisy radio, pretending as if you no longer exist.

You take the opportunity to observe. It’s not like you hadn't had chances to discreetly watch him before—you live under the heel of his boot, after all. But to see him off of his show, face tired and dark despite the permanent smile that paints it, something stirs in your chest.

The final thing you learn is that the only soul more lonely than yours is the one which belongs to the demon who holds your heart.

He keeps friends in his shows. Voices to keep him company. You suppose that before you showed up, there wasn’t much else to talk to, and Alastor is a man of habit. He never stopped collecting those voices, no. Not even with you right there.

Thinking back, you wonder if he ever went as mad as you did when he first brought you here. If he counted days on the walls he talked to. If he would sit in deafening silence after his broadcast ended until deciding he wanted venison for dinner.

If he ever appreciated your presence, even as nothing more than his pet.

It was the only explanation for your beating heart. Why he had not devoured you down to the marrow yet.

You slowly shimmy off the couch and drag the blankets along with you, trailing behind you like a cape. The sudden movement makes his head turn at lightning speed, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

His body is impossibly rigid—it’s the first thing you notice when you drop to your knees by his side to rest your chin on his thigh. Alastor’s claws are threading through your hair before he can stop himself, feeling your warmth beneath his palm.

A dog and their owner. Only this pair could know silent adoration this way.

It’s twisted, you think, that he still holds this spell over you. That he’s still the most beautiful being in all of Hell.

It doesn’t matter anymore, though. Without him, you were nothing more than a plate of dinner that sprouted legs to all the other demons. You may not have your soul, but for some reason, you find comfort being seen by a monster like him.

“You look ridiculous, darling.”

“It’s not my fault you keep me suspended twenty feet off the ground,” you grumble, eyes drifting shut under the gentle smoothing of your hair.

“That’s what the blanket is for!”

“You’re about… five months too late,” you deadpan.

If it were any other Overlord, such a badmouth would have gotten you eaten already. But he only chuckles in response, quiet and lovely.

A long beat of silence passes before realization crashes down on you. Your eyes fly open as you peer up at him in curiosity. His voice is missing its usual lively buzz of static, as if a switch had been turned off. He sounds…

“Beautiful,” you breathe.

The demon raises a brow at you in question. You quickly shake your head, embarrassed by your sudden declaration. His hand stops atop your head. Laughing at your flustered expression, he suddenly removes you from his lap to stand.

“Come. It’s a nice night for a walk.”

“A walk?” You repeat, dumbfounded.

Alastor smiles ear to ear.

“That’s what dogs do, is it not?”

𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑨 𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑵 𝑫𝑶𝑮

The difference between you and Alastor is that the only soul you’ve ever known is your own.

You’ve memorized its shape, the way it flickers like a flame within your chest. Like it has its own tiny heartbeat—a separate being residing in your body. You know its colour and its tendency to leap when adrenaline courses through you. You know every part of it. Even then, it had taken all of your afterlife to grasp.

Alastor understands something you cannot.

He has long since memorized the collective weight of a thousand souls. The way they all sigh at once, like waves in the ocean bellowing and sinking.

He is an Overlord of Hell. Someone destined to be greater than you. You’ve known this all along.

He’d always been involved in shady business, coming back to the tower stinking of new souls, meat and booze. You remember that he once boasted about his skills in gambling.

“Isn't it just luck?” You asked.

He laughed at your question, “It’s never just luck, dear. That is why you sell souls, and I own them!”

You resented him for those words, even if they were true. Reminders that your soul was sitting in the palm of his hand. That your entire life was that tiny, flickering flame he could blow out at any moment.

At the same time, you were strangely relieved. Alastor offered you more than just protection. He gave you a home, regardless of how boring, and gifted you whatever your heart desired so long as you were obedient.

And no matter how much he denies it and pretends it isn’t so, he’s also a friend. A companion. You have the nights you’ve spent awake talking to him until sunrise to prove it.

Perhaps that is why ugly guilt bubbles in your stomach when you see his bloody body and the first thought you have is:

Does this mean my soul is free?

You’ve smelled blood before. At some point, it became a comforting scent. The smell of Alastor—the scent of home. But you had only smelled the blood of others as it stained his clothes and skin. Never the demon’s.

His shady business was bound to catch up with him eventually.

Your first reaction is to panic. To turn his body over and scour his torso with your hands until you find where the bleeding starts.

“Alastor? Alastor!” You call his name over and over to no avail.

Again, the terrible thought crosses your mind: I should leave him to die. But then he groans in pain, and the thought vanishes just as quickly as it came.

To wish for him to die after all he’s done—you couldn’t stomach that. You would be no better than he who owns souls for his own amusement.

He had stumbled all the way home in the end. To you. There had to be a reason for that. For him to crawl back to you despite his animal instincts.

“I’ll fix you,” you promise with shaking conviction.

You piece him back together with your own two hands, however clumsily. You’ve never stitched together skin before—only sewn fabrics and crocheted yarn that Alastor brought home to keep you entertained.

It’s disturbing how easily your needle threads together flesh. How it writhes under your touch and how much blood really comes out of it.

Alastor bleeds red.

For some reason, you had always thought that he didn’t bleed at all. But he does. He bleeds the same colours as those that stain his face when he returns from long nights out. It smells the same, too—nauseatingly metallic and rotten.

You do your best to piece him together fully, clean the wound, and bandage him up despite his weak efforts to struggle and the bile that pushes up your throat.

“Stop moving!” You yell in frustration.

This is the last thing Alastor remembers from that night: your arms flung around him to stop him from squirming around; your pounding heart pressed against his while you carefully pin him down whilst trying to avoid disturbing his wound; your lips beside his ear as you chant—please, just go to sleep.

When he wakes in the morning, he’s delirious.

At first, he isn’t sure why he’s asleep on the sofa. Your sofa, as you’ve claimed. His head lolls to face the window to gauge the time of day.

Bright morning light sears his eyes and momentarily blinds him. Groaning, Alastor brings his hand up to cover his eyes. There’s a sudden white hot pain from that action that shocks his system awake.

He hisses, body involuntarily curling in on itself to ease the pain, but it only exacerbates it.

His hand changes route from shielding his eyes to feeling for the spot where it hurts the most. To his horror, he can feel bandages sloppily wrapped where his skin should be.

“The… Hell?” He mutters, trying to push himself onto his elbows to see his stomach better. But he freezes halfway up, propped back on his elbows when he finally catches sight of you. 

You’re seated on the floor with your head in your arms, seemingly sound asleep by his side despite the ruckus he’s caused.

The demon slowly pieces the puzzle together, eyes drifting to the trail of blood smeared from the door to where you’re sitting. He assumes the sofa under him fares no better than his floor, and he groans in disgust.

He takes a minute to stare at the ceiling, trying to remember whatever else he can from last night. But the ache deep in his skin is too pressing to ignore, and eventually he returns to moaning and hissing in agony. Again, he turns his head to you.

You look peaceful this way. Drool pricks at the corner of your lips and as mundane as it is, Alastor can’t help but be a little endeared.

It’s strangely human. You are strangely human.

One hand falls atop your head and the other on his bandages as he watches you slumber. Perhaps it was in your human nature to help him, your terrible captor, when you could have just as easily left him for dead.

You look like an angel basking in the orange glow of the Underworld. His saviour. Beautiful and human.

Fondness boils in his stomach at the idea and he quickly retracts his touch, instead laying an arm over his eyes.

It’s too bright. He can’t think straight.

He considers counting this as an eye for an eye. Your life for his. It would only be fair to set you free now that you’re even.

Dread creeps up his spine at the thought of spending his days in lonely silence once more. You were originally meant to be nothing more but a companion for entertainment. But he was growing quite attached to you as pathetic as it was.

He had gotten used to your witty remarks and dry humour. The way you laugh before you tease him. How you sit on the floor and rest your chin on his thigh even though he’s told you before that his lap is available. And he finds your flustered and exasperated expression after his comments to be more amusing than death.

It would be a shame for it all to end, even if it were the right thing to do. He’s a demon, after all. Hell was for those who knew right from wrong and still became Sinners.

His silent reverie is interrupted by your shuffling. You groggily straighten up, blearily wiping the sleep from your eyes. It takes a minute for the realization to kick in, but when it does, you’re blinking at him in bewilderment.

You’re on top of him in seconds, clinging to his neck and wailing like a child. He hisses in pain, doing his best to sit upright for you and grimacing though his smile.

“You’re okay!” You exclaim, hugging him tighter and tighter.

“Darling—” He grunts, trying to shimmy away from you despite the warmth blooming in his chest. “My stitches!”

You scramble away from him, retreating as if he’d bitten you. Your back hits the other end of the sofa by the time he sits up. “I’m so sorry! I just…”

He watches as your face dims considerably. His heart drops to his stomach for a reason he can’t explain.

“I thought you were going to die,” you whisper. It’s followed by sniffles, and he can tell even without looking that you’ve broken out into tears.

“Come now, dear. Don’t cry. I’m very much alive, thanks to you.”

You nod, using your sleeves to pathetically wipe at your cheeks.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” you quietly admit with an embarrassed laugh.

Alastor also can’t explain the relief that floods him at that moment. Relief that you’re smiling. That you’re still by his side. That he’s alive. That you saved him.

If he had died, would you have blamed yourself? Even if he hadn’t returned home, would you have waited by the door for him until your soul came back to you?

Would you be sad then, too?

It’s a strange feeling that rises in his throat. He’s never been so grateful to be alive before.

“But you did it,” he tells you. “See?”

You nod again. From the other end of the couch, he can see your shoulders relaxing. It settles him, too—calms his fraying nerves.

He understands, then, the spell you have cast over him in return. He would do anything to see that smile.

Trust is not his forte. Demons are not to be trusted.

However, he can’t help but think that you’d save him over and over again if you needed to. And at that moment, he swears you have a halo glowing atop your head.

An angel in a Sinner’s world.

𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑨 𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹, 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑨 𝑩𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑻

You wake up to the familiar stench of blood, as you do most mornings.

It isn’t what makes you jolt awake. Rather, it’s the other smell wafting through the air. Mixed with the iron sting is the soft smell of flowers and the deep earthiness of grass and soil. Stirring, you blink the blurriness out of your eyes and take in your surroundings.

Dewy grass pricks at your palms as you sit up. The outline of your body has flattened the moss down and packed it into the earth, downy shrubbery now crushed beneath you.

Alastor sips at his mug, lips nursing the rim as he watches you slowly wake over the top of his newspaper.

“Someone slept well,” he sings with a cheshire smile, ears flopping from one side to the other with the movement of his head. You blink at him from the ground, legs curled under you.

“Where are we?”

“My room, darling.”

You take another look around. A gentle breeze shakes the trees weeping with leaves and vines, tousling the branches so they appear to dance in the wind. You’ve learned never to be surprised when it comes to this demon. He’s a bottomless well of them, after all.

“It doesn’t look like a room,” you observe flatly. He only laughs, shaking his paper flat to continue skimming through the morning column. Dissatisfied by his lack of an answer, you press on

“Does your room come with air conditioning? It’s too humid.”

Alastor snorts. “I prefer it when my dinner marinades without complaint.”

“It’s been months and you have yet to eat me up for dinner,” you point out.

“Tonight will be the night,” he replies nonchalantly, as if it were just any other day. You can’t help but notice the slightest hesitation in his conviction. Like he hasn’t yet made up his mind.

Silence follows his statement and you can only stare at him in response. After he shows no signs of elaborating, you sink back down to the earth with a thud and a sigh. Watching the dark, eerie sky as clouds float by, you pipe up again.

“The sky’s dark. Isn’t it morning?”

“I prefer the night. Calming, isn’t it?”

Your nose scrunches up into a playful sneer. “The big, scary shadow man loves the dark. Who knew?”

“Sarcasm isn’t very cute on you, my dear.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan. “I think I’m hilarious.”

The Radio Demon sets down his paper and peers at you from his seat at the garden table, chin propped on his knuckles. “Entertaining, yes. Hilarious? Not quite.”

“It’s apparently my last day alive,” you grumble, rolling over onto your side so your back is turned to him. “Let me have this.”

Your eyes drift shut as another breeze washes over you. The smell of grass and mossy waters—you never thought you’d have the chance to remember what this was like. What it’s like to be alive. How it feels to have grass between your toes and listen to the distant cries of insects and birds.

When you blink your eyes open again, you expect it all to vanish. To be back in Alastor’s radio tower, banished to your own little corner where he can watch you and entertain himself. To feel the rattle of the chain around your neck while he pulls you closer just to have a taste of your soft flesh.

But when you finally allow your surroundings to sink in again, you’re met with nothing but open night skies freckled with globs of stars. It feels free. You had forgotten what that felt like, too.

“I don’t enjoy it when my dinner feels sentimental, either,” he suddenly hums. You roll onto your back, head lolling to the side so you can glare at him. Slowly pushing yourself up, you haunch back on your palms with your legs outstretched toward the flowing water. 

“I’m not sentimental,” you argue.

“Oh? Is that so?”

You scoff in lieu of a proper reply. On your hands and knees you drag yourself toward the luminescence hovering just above the water. You come so close that your hands sink deep into the mud of the riverbank, surely dirtying your clothes in the process.

Fireflies swirl in the air and make the surface of the water shimmer like the stars in the sky above you. You carefully collect a firefly between your muddy palms.

It flicks around in a panic, knocking against the tiny cage you’ve built with your hands until it finally settles down in defeat. You can’t help but feel a little sorry for it. 

Trapped. Like you.

Alastor watches you curiously, your face dimly illuminated by the glow of the firefly. He’d usually prefer enjoying his swamp alone, but in a final act of mercy had decided to allow you in just this once. Perhaps he had made a mistake, however. There was a reason he killed swiftly.

He never did like getting attached to his food.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The demon blinks at you. “Fireflies?”

You shake your head.

“Life.”

But it’s not alive, he wants to say. This is all just a grandiose daydream, after all. Soon enough you’ll offer yourself up to him and he’ll devour you without second thought. The dream will end and reality will come crashing down.

He’ll be alone again, the way a monster like him deserves to be.

He slowly rises from his seat and makes his way to your side. Sinking to his knees, mud cakes his pants and his coat. You look at him in confusion, hands unclasping to release the insect to the wild once more.

“Are you that impatient for dinner?” You ask jokingly, albeit with a shake of nervousness underneath.

The Radio Demon gathers your wrist and presses kisses along your pulse, stopping when he feels it racing beneath his lips. Gently, he sinks his teeth into your flesh just above your vein, enough to draw a taste of blood, before lapping at the spillage like nectar.

You suck in a sharp breath, perfectly still beside him. Your free hand comes up to cup his face carefully, causing him to release his bite. Thumb smearing mud along his cheekbone, you look at him in wonder.

It causes him to withdraw, recoiling from you as if you just burned him. The weight of your eyes is too heavy—like you know every part of him at just a glance. He loves being the center of attention, but with you it’s too much.

You always did look at him like he was beautiful. Like he was life itself.

He can see it in every inch of your expression—some kind of twisted longing. It awakens something burrowed deep in his stomach, primal and wanting.

For all these decades he had been utterly alone. And for once in his afterlife, he had felt what it was like to be wanted. To be worshipped.

Does it really have to end so selfishly?

He’ll let you frolic around in his daydreams a little longer—allow you to sip from the chalice and taste mortal life again. It would make your flesh all the sweeter when he finally digs in.

“You are strange,” he murmurs against your skin.

“And you bite too hard,” you complain.

He only licks at your wound apologetically.

𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑵. 𝑹𝑨𝑽𝑨𝑮𝑬. 𝑬𝑨𝑻.

The word devotion does not exist in Alastor’s dictionary. The fiery depths of Hell incinerated whatever meaning it held for him long ago.

Nothing is forever—that’s what his mother said to him with a quiver in her voice and trembling fingers captured in his. Her final words to him, not that he was all that sentimental about it anymore.

If you took a peek into Alastor's heart, you might expect to find some select choices of rye from the speakeasies he danced at in his youth. Or perhaps you would see the endless bog of contracts for every soul he owned, the names signed on them lost as if they were nothing more than grains of sugar in his coffee. 

He does not know how to love.

To be honest, he can’t quite remember if he ever learned how to love in life. He remembers what it was like to have his head in his mothers lap after he quit his first job, sobbing pathetically while she hummed to him about how proud she still was. He remembers running his hands over the smooth wooden desk of his radio station in New Orleans, the feel of fresh lacquer under his fingers.

Love was not something foreign to him. He was surrounded by it—the way rye burned in his chest; the feeling of his mother’s hands in his hair; the smell of coffee and wood lacquer. And even in death, he was surrounded by love. By you.

The scent of your blood. The vulnerability of your skin and how easily he could pierce it with his claws. You were fragile and sweet, something strange in a place permanently stained with blood and reeking of death.

Before he had memorized the pattern of your snores, or the way you cradle his face when he bites you like an untamable beast, or the racing of your pulse beneath his lips, amusement was all he ever pursued. His next plaything, whatever would keep him entertained until they inevitably joined his broadcast.

But you had overwritten his heart too long ago to remember what that was even like. The thought of your voice screaming in the back of his show only makes his stomach turn until he feels like he is about to vomit. 

The thought of losing you—his single treasure in the underworld—was more than he could bear. Amusement and a good meal were not worth your life.

Once, too many moons ago to count, you had promised yourself to him on a silver platter. In all that time you had kept him company, regardless of your sarcastic quips and your disinterest in his hobbies of killing for fun. You had become something worth cherishing. Worth protecting.

He hadn’t accounted for the fact that the only one he needed to protect you from the most was himself.

Here's what you would really see if you looked into Alastor's heart: you, with your jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut so tight that your brows are furrowed. Blood—lots of blood—spilling from your skin like liquid gold.

You, and those tears that he hates so fucking much. Don't cry, he would tell you, and you would listen to him because you adore him. Your flesh between his teeth as he sinks them deeper, plunging his fangs into your skin. A devouring so slow that it's agonizing, and finally your blissful little sigh.

He loves you so much that it aches, that it burns in his stomach. He's ashamed of it, of your effect on him—the spell he can't break.

No, that's wrong. He doesn't love you. At least, he doesn't think he does. Monsters do not love.

That's why you are being swallowed up whole, isn't it? Because he's a monster?

Your hands collect his face just as his mind starts to wander. You gaze at him so softly, so tenderly, as if he isn't all claws and teeth and blood soaked antlers. He wonders if you even realize what's in your arms.

"Alastor..."

His name is a whisper of a prayer on your lips—sweet and beautiful like you. If he could devour you like this he would, just to immortalize you. The iron stench of blood fills his nostrils as you cradle him. 

Ah, he's gone too far.

Slowly, he laps up the blood trickling down your skin. A silent apology. And you forgive him—you always do. It's just in your nature to trust monsters. To trust him.

"I love you."

He realizes, then. He's no monster in your eyes. He's just the devil. A beautiful, charming demon who you signed your soul away to.

Alastor doesn't say it back, but he loves you. He's sure he does. He would love you into flame if he could.

☽

notes: this series was inspired by this post from like 2 months ago that i finally got around to!! shoutout to too sweet by hozier and morbid cannibalism poetry on pinterest for getting me through this

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it @dilemmaiscool @concentratedconcrete @squiword7 @clarakainda @princekeerys @iicarused @lillylovesalastorsm1 @veroneverleft (send an ask to be added to the taglist!)

© ALASTORSS — DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, MODIFY, OR DISTRIBUTE TO OTHER SITES.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ ELATION ]

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A/N: This was originally an nsfw quick thought but it spiraled out of control so I guess it's a story sneak peak now?!…

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM READER ]

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You look down on him. Pure joy on your face as he kneels, sitting there at your feet, and all at his will.

It feels so odd but intoxicating. You, so much smaller than him, who can only harness half the power he holds and are seen by everyone as the softest being ever to grace the hotel halls. You, an almost picture-perfect doll many thought fell from heaven, towering over one of the most feared overloads without a hint of fear in you.

Alastor at your whim, willingly, and all because you flattered him with your existence. So polite, so sweet, and so daring. You were fragile and fearless, an ordinary sinner who had him wrapped around her little finger within minutes of your first meeting.

And you knew it.

You knew it and you used it against him shamelessly.

One look from your doe-like eyes and he felt incapable of refusing any wish you asked of him.

It gave you a rush, confidence even, and boosted your hidden ego, knowing you could crumble such a powerful demon to his knees so quickly. The slight smile you'd learned to showcase daily became a grin looking down on him now, in the confines of his room, in the dead of night…

You'd come to him for attention, and though he was busy preparing the script for his next broadcast, he immediately disregarded it as you waltzed into his space.

“Hm, seems you missed me a lot, Al,” you teased him with a giggle, perching yourself on the sofa he'd just been lounging on himself and lowering your gaze as he crouched his taller frame before you.

A true gentleman….acting without being told to.

How sweet….

“My dear,” he addresses you quietly, smile ever present as you tipped his head up with your stocking-clad foot; the soft black fabric reached your thighs, drawing his attention to the exposed skin above it as you playfully nudged his chin to refocus his wandering gaze.

“My eyes are up here, sir. Don't you know it's impolite to gawk at a lady?” You flash a closed-eye smile while chastising him, crossing one leg over the other as he looks upon your face, but he finds it incredibly hard to leave it there as the silk of your nightgown shifts with your every move.

Alastor could easily rip it off, pin you down, and take what he wanted from you.

Use you for all your worth and dare you to run as he did…

He had the power to but basked in your control instead, loving the trivial games you'd play with his undead heart and undeniably amused by your confidence to do so.

You didn't need his affections, his ownership, or permission.

Protection or popularity wasn't your prerogative either…

You needed nothing from the feared Radio Demon…

Not a single thing…

But you would damn sure take everything from him.

“What is it that you desire, sweetheart? Tell me, and it's yours…” Alastor felt his chest lose all its air as you giggled again, humming quietly, hearing his offer and only answering him when you'd taken an excellent, sultry look at him.

“Anything?” you question him, reaching out to gently pet his ears, brushing the same delicate fingers through his town-toned hair a couple of times before tracing over his hidden antlers. Alastor felt an invisible shiver rack his body as you toyed with the familiar areas, aware of their sensitivity but selfishly stimulating them to get his reactions.

“Anything…you want..” the stag groaned lowly, smile growing tight as you massage his right ear before switching to the other and using that hold to drag him closer while uncrossing your legs. He obediently leaned in, the subtle scent of your aroused heat stirring a dormant hunger in him instantly and the plushness of your thighs fitting perfectly into his clawed hands as he reached for you.

You moaned quietly as he dragged his claws over your skin, careful not to rip your stockings, panting heavily against your clothed cunt like a starved man.

It'd been days since he last tasted you, had his fill of your cunt that you so graciously allowed him access to, and Alastor had long forgotten how to mask his greed for it…

He saw no point in hiding his craving when you came to him in a state like this. Demanding and desperate, just the same as he was.

“So…” you sighed in delight as he nuzzled his head closer, blood-red eyes drifting up to meet yours as you continued to speak, “…you’ll help me fall asleep then? One last time…”

A lie.

You both knew you'd return to him for all your needs, desires, and troubles.

“One last time “ meant nothing to Alastor and even less to you.

“Of course, I will, my darling…” he let the static drop from his voice, admiring how your small canines dug into your bottom lip, eyes lidding over with unmistakable pleasure.

That was all you needed to hear from Alastor, voicing no refusal as he shifted closer to your heart and moaned loudly as he passed his tongue over your clothed heat once, then twice before ripping it away with his sharp teeth.

You jolted from sudden action, not startled by Alastors microaggressions and rather proud of yourself for causing such a ravenous reaction. “Careful, or you might hurt me, Al…” you feigned concern, petting his head gently as a lazy smile tugged at your lips, and said deer demon responded to your coy reprimand by slowly lapping at your folds.

“Oh, mmm…” Your back arched from the velvet cushions you sat against, hands fisting the fabric of his red dress shirt as he wrapped an arm around each of your thighs, effectively keeping you still.

His grip was bruising, a normal pain you'd come to expect since you tended to struggle to tease his efforts at pleasing you, but your little habit persisted.

“Y-you think- ahm…you think you deserve this?… To have me…t-to get anything you want…ah…” you writhed in his hold, glaring at him vengfully despite drowning in a pool of ecstasy everytime he passed his unruly tongue over entrance. Alastor chuckled at your brazen remarks, reveling your warmth as he switched between teasing your clit and exploring your inner walls, and you lost your breath from the familiar pattern.

He knew you inside and out, committed your every reaction to memory, and thrived off seeing your tender body betray your power-hungry mentality.

Your thighs trembled as his tongue slithered deeper into your cunt, leaving no inch of it unexplored while his gaze remained on your flushed face. He couldn't look away, not when you threw your head back before letting out a string of whimpers, blinking back tears as your hips rolled closer to his face.

He had you now, legs shaking, and your count steadily streaming a mix of his saliva and your cum.

He had you, and there wasn't a thing you could do to stop him.

You'd asked for it…

“Earn it…earn me…Alastor,” you praised his efforts through grateful moans, vibrating with pleasure as the coil in your stomach curled itself impossibly tight the longer he feasted on your cunt. Stars dotted your vision as your high approached, his distorted groans and deathly grip coaxing it.

Blood trickled on your thighs, his nails gradually digging deeper into the fabric covering them, but you refused to care as Alastair brought you over the edge.

“That's enough..” you whine as his tongue swirls inside of your cunt, leaving nothing to waste as you come down from your high. He didn't relent to the ministrations, overstimulating you on purpose, and you tugged one of his ears roughly to correct him. Alastor grunted in pain, grimacing at you as he backed away from your entrance slowly, “What a violent little thing you are.” He chastises you, eyes narrowing as a huff leaves your lips, “And you're an arrogant son of a bitch…” you snap back childishly.

His eyes glow bright red at your snarky remark, smile widening as you follow it up with an innocent smile. No one but you could get away with talking to him that way, smug and inconsequential.

Indeed, Alastor would find a way to fuck the meaning of genuine fear into you…

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This was literally a drabble…ughh my writers block is actually debilitating atp… :(

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

His eye brow raise kills me everytime…like okay yes sir whatever you say sir mhm will do sir no need to ask me twice sir!!! ❤️ credit to the creator

[urhoneycombwitch]

rommate thoughts

getting up early in the morning to go to the bathroom and the world slows down down down to a viscous quality when you pass your roommate's door... are they still asleep? or will you bear witness to early morning noises? and what story will tell you? the sharp clicking and clacking of hurried dressing and rushed getting ready? lazy yawns and rustling sheets as they turn around for ten more minutes? maybe soft singing to shoo some lingering nightmares away? or other... soft things?

you know? <3

foreword: oh, Somna. I needed this softness today. this one goes out to those who might need it, too <3

cw: mentions of prescription drugs and weed

wc: 1.2k

___

When the last of the summer sun slips behind the edge of the city, you and Eddie open all the windows in the apartment.

Moving with practiced fluidity, you slide the little window above the sink into place, the larger one by the breakfast nook gets the same treatment; Eddie’s tall enough to reach the hand crank for the pane overlooking the shower, then ducks into both of your rooms to undo the last two latches. 

You talk the whole time, exchanging laughter and comments even on opposite ends of the apartment. Cool night air floods the whole space, lush and floral from the hydrangea bush on the ground floor. This is the only ritual that makes sleeping in the summer months bearable. 

Some nights, Eddie rolls up and you choose the record, legs slung over each other laps, talking over the hazy smoke and crooning speakers. Others, you get takeout and watch whatever’s good on TV, Eddie’s legs making the perfect lean-to for your back. 

Some nights, you fall asleep on the couch- when this happens, come morning, there’s always a blanket tucked carefully around your form. Others, Eddie’s the first to drop- cheek smushed to your thigh, snoring lightly. You’re always gentle with him, rubbing his shoulder to get him up and in the comfort of his own bed, slinging his arm around your shoulders as you walk him down the hall.

Last night, both of you turned in early. Eddie’s got a bad case of allergies, and you were tired from work, so you took your respective medicine and leave, evening ritual shortened and performed apart with just the bedroom windows.

In the morning, the air of your room is still cool. Birds twitter with the rise of the sun. Soon, it will be time to close everything up, to keep the temperature down and the summer heat out. For now, you yawn, stretch, kick your way out of the comforter, and pad down the hall.

Eddie’s door is slightly ajar. His room is dark, but you can just make out the tangle of his curls on his pillow, sheets tucked under his chin covering the length of his body. You move on carpeted footsteps, approaching bedside with quiet intention.

Without his eyes on you, it’s easier to indulge, taking your time to drink in his sleeping face. You sink to your knees beside the head of the bed for a better look- in the muted morning light peeking through his blackout curtains, Eddie looks peaceful. 

His normal is theatrics, raised brows, sweeping expressions that draw you in and ebb like tides. In dreamland, he looks years younger, smoothed brow and lips parted slightly, breathing steady and sure. 

“Hey.” It’s barely a whisper. You pair it with a soft touch just under his bangs, skimming your fingertip across his forehead. “Eddie. Gonna wake up?”

He must have taken Benadryl last night- he’s usually first to wake, tapping on your door with breakfast options and being a hurricane of noise until you’re forced to join the party. 

You have the simple joy of watching Eddie’s face as he returns to you, to the waking world- a twitch of his lip, a couple of long, slow blinks. Consciousness crawls to the surface, leaves him rosy-cheeked and frowning, chasing your hand with his temple like a puppy.

You lay your fingers flat to his skull, thumb at the indent of his nose, and Eddie sighs, content. His eyes flutter shut again when you speak again. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmm.” The sheets shift as he lifts a heavy arm to stretch over his head, revealing a bare torso littered with ink. “Z’you?”

“Yeah.” 

“Good. ‘M gonna… get up ‘n make breakfast…” His words are clunky, slurred and stuck to each other, lids heavy with sleep still. 

From the floor, you sink a bit lower, scratching softly at the back of his head, grinning with amusement. “I don’t think you’re allowed to operate a stove while under the influence.”

His frown deepens, but he won’t make it stick, not for any length of time around you. Faux-upset ebbs, recedes, floods into a tired smile that takes up half his face. “Uh-huh. Might burn my eyebrows off. Would you still love me?”

Pretending to give it some serious thought, your hand slides down, a familiar weight at the side of his neck. “Hmm. Maybe we should stick to cereal today.”

“Asshole,” Eddie replies, fond and trying to draw out the jokes, sliding his own hand to your wrist to keep it in place. “What the hell. Can’t a guy lose his brows in peace?”

“We’ve got Cheerios, Golden Crisp, Cocoa Puffs-” Your valiant attempt to keep on track is overturned when Eddie tugs at your wrist with a whine.

“Christ. My brain is soup, maybe you can eat that ‘nd it’ll tide you over until I can move.” More insistent now, Eddie pulls at your elbow, then your upper arm, your other hand snapping out to brace on his mattress before you tip. “Jus’... lay with me for a bit.”

Closer now, your breath fanning over his ear as he pulls and you give your last bit of resistance- “You’re wearing boxers, right?”

“Jesus. You really think I’d subject you to the Morning Wood Show?”

“Okay.” You don’t sound half as exasperated as you’d like, moving with the help of his gravity; you sidle close to the wall, lying on your side and over the covers, propping your head up with one arm. “This bed really wasn’t made for two people.”

“Sure it is.” Eddie reaches for you again, and you go easy, let him pull you to his chest. Under your ear, his heart thumps, whooshing like a seashell that’s captured the sounds of the ocean. “See? Now will you kindly shut up. I’ve got meds to sleep off.”

“Coffee would help.” It’s a baiting tease. You don’t actually want to get up- far too comfy with the curve of his bicep across the blades of your shoulders. With your nose pressed to the hollow of his throat, you can smell everything that his skin has kept overnight- faded cologne, bar soap, sweat and earthy sleep.

“Shhhhutthefuckup before I eat your brains.” He already sounds like a faded version of himself, rasp lowering into that pre-dream tone. For comedic effect, Eddie opens his jaw to press the outline of his teeth to the crown of your scalp.

It makes you tremble with giggles, burrowing further into his body to get away. He soothes a palm down your back, and you settle again. 

Under your ear, his heart beats slower, then slower still, until you can feel the rumble of a snore build. Your lashes brush against his bare skin, lulled by the stillness of the room, the shared warmth of your bodies even through the layers of fabric.

When late morning arrives, you’ll make the coffee, and Eddie will do the dishes. For now, the air stays cool and ushers in the sort of slumber that only comes from sharing space with someone precious. 

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Satoru sat nervously at a corner table in the quaint café, fiddling with his coffee cup as he stole glances at the girl across from him. She was animatedly discussing her favorite book, her eyes sparkling with passion. Satoru found himself captivated by her enthusiasm, her words weaving a tapestry of imagination and wonder.

Yet, amidst her lively chatter, Satoru couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of your absence. Your memory lingered like a ghost in the air, casting a shadow over his newfound happiness. He tried to push aside the guilt that gnawed at him, but it clung to him like a stubborn shadow.

Certain things the girl did, her mannerisms, her laughter, it all reminded him of you. His mind began to drift back to memories of you – your laughter echoing in the corners of his mind, the soft touch of your hand, the warmth of your embrace, your gentle kisses, all of it. He could still hear the sound of your voice, gentle and soothing, like a melody that once filled his days with joy.

The girl’s laughter interrupted his reverie, drawing him back to the present. She smiled at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she leaned forward, her enthusiasm contagious. “Isn’t it amazing?” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with excitement. “The way words can transport you to another world?”

Satoru nodded, offering a faint smile in return. “Yeah, it’s… it’s incredible,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He wanted to immerse himself in her enthusiasm, to lose himself in the magic of her words. But a part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that he was betraying you, that he was moving on too soon.

The girl tilted her head, her gaze softening as she studied him. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice gentle and concerned. “You seem… distant.”

Satoru forced a smile, trying to push aside the turmoil churning inside him. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice barely concealing the tremor of uncertainty. “Just… lost in thought, I guess.”

Suddenly, after he spoke those six words, it was as if everything went still, like time stopped completely. Satoru didn’t seem to notice, his eyes still locked on his coffee cup. That was until he heard a voice he never thought he would hear again.

”Hello, my love~” You said, your voice echoing throughout the room.

Satoru’s gaze swiftly shifted, and there, across from him, he beheld your apparition seated beside the girl. Your eyes, brimming with love and understanding, met his, casting a spectral presence amidst the ordinary ambiance of the café. You appeared like an angel descended from above, adorned with a radiant glow enveloping your form, your hair and eyes as resplendent as he remembered. Truly, you were ethereal in every sense.

Your presence was unmistakable, your soul reaching out to him across the void to deliver a message of love and acceptance.

Satoru's breath caught in his throat as he looked into your eyes, not sure how this was happening. But all he knew was that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, your presence a bittersweet reminder of the love he had lost and the pain that still lingered within him.

He reached out a trembling hand, wanting to touch you, to feel the warmth of your presence one last time. Tears welled in Satoru’s eyes as he whispered your name, a prayer on his lips. “Y/n…”

You smiled up at him, holding your hand out for him to grab. His fingers quickly laced with yours, a warm and comforting feeling running all through his body as he felt your touch once more.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you, my sweet Toru~” You spoke softly, caressing his face from across the table.

Tears were overflowing his face, his heart breaking every second that passed as he felt you.

”Wh-what are you doing here? H-How are you even here?” He questioned, but you just bring his hand up to your lips, giving him a quick peck.

”Do not worry about that, my love. There are other important matters I want to talk to you about before I take my leave.” You finished, caressing your thumb over the back of his hand.

”Leave? No, please, don’t leave me again, Y/n. I…I can’t live without you. I miss you so much.” He begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled softly at him, a soft chuckle emitting from your lips. ”I will never leave you, Toru,” you replied, your smile never faltering. “I’ll always be with you, in your heart and in your memories. And wherever you go, whatever you do, I’ll be watching over you, guiding you along the way.”

Your presence lingered, even as Satoru’s attention turned back to the girl sitting across from him. He couldn’t help but notice how her eyes sparkled with genuine warmth and kindness, how her laughter filled the air with joy. And yet, despite her charms, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she paled in comparison to you.

As he looked back at you, your hands still intertwined, he felt a pang of guilt wash over him. How could he move on with someone else when his heart still belonged to you?

“She seems nice,” you spoke, your voice soft and gentle.

Satoru nodded, his throat tightening with emotion. “She is, but she’s nothing like you, Y/n. I…I think I need to cut ties with her before it’s too late. I can’t imagine going out with someone else who isn’t you,” he admitted, tears still falling down his face.

You smiled again, your touch like a soothing balm on his wounded heart. Gently, you leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss against his tear-stained cheek.

“Toru,” you whispered, your voice filled with love and understanding. “It’s okay to let go. It’s okay to find happiness again, even if it’s in someone else’s arms. I want you to be happy, more than anything in this world. I mean, It’s been five years since I’ve passed…it’s time for you to embrace the life that awaits you. You deserve to be happy, to find love and joy once more.”

Satoru shook his head, unable to accept the truth of your words. “But how can I move on without you? You were everything to me, Y/n. Without you, I’m lost.”

Your smile softened, a gentle reassurance in your eyes. “You were and still are my everything too, Toru. But love is not confined to the boundaries of this world. It transcends time and space, connecting us in ways that defy understanding.”

As your words sank in, Satoru felt a glimmer of hope flicker to life within him. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to honor your memory while still embracing the future that lay ahead.

“But what if I forget you?” he whispered, his voice tinged with fear.

You shook your head, giggling a bit, your hand tightening around his. “You could never forget me, Toru. I will always be a part of you, woven into the fabric of your being. And no matter where life takes you, my love will always be there to guide you.”

Satoru’s heart ached at your words, torn between his longing for you and his desire to move forward. But as he looked into your eyes, he saw nothing but love and acceptance, a silent blessing for the path he had yet to tread.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way, my love. But I cannot change what has happened. What I can do is help you find your peace. And help you realize that no matter what, I will be waiting for you on the other side with open arms when its your time. But for now,” You began, slowly fading away, your form dissolving into the stillness that surrounded them. You grabbed his face and looked deep into his eyes, going in for one last kiss.

“It’s time to move on and be happy again~”

Satoru watched you go, his heart heavy with sorrow yet buoyed by a newfound sense of peace.

”I love you, Y/n~” He whispered as he felt your hand disappear.

”I love you, my Toru. Forever and always~” You finished as you finally disappeared into thin air.

After your ethereal presence faded away, leaving Satoru with a bittersweet ache in his heart, the world around him slowly began to stir back to life. Time resumed its steady march forward, the hustle and bustle of the café gradually filling the air once more.

Satoru blinked, his gaze drifting from the empty space where you had been sitting to the girl across from him. She watched him with concern, her eyes reflecting the warmth and compassion that had drawn him to her in the first place.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft with genuine concern.

Satoru nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah," he replied, his voice steady. "Yeah, I think I am."

And with those words, he reached out to her, his hand finding hers in the space between them.

As they talked, the café buzzed with life around them, the clink of cups and the murmur of conversation blending into a comforting backdrop. And in that moment, Satoru realized that he wasn’t just sharing a cup of coffee with a girl – he was opening his heart to the possibility of a new beginning.

And as they sat there, hands entwined, Satoru realized that he wasn't just letting go of his grief – he was embracing the possibility of a future filled with love and happiness, guided by the memory of the one he had lost but never forgotten.

He looked out the window, seeing your figure once more with a bright smile on your face as you saw him learning to move on.

“Until we meet again, my love~” You whispered, disappearing back to the afterlife.

_____________________

Currently crying and throwing up after writing this T.T

[devildomwriter]

A Step in the Future | Simeon x Reader

.9K | GN! Reader | CW: children, domestic

Simeon groaned and rubbed his forehead from which a large bump protruded.

“What…happened?” He asked himself quietly as he sat up and looked around.

He immediately ascertained this wasn’t the Devildom. He lay in a field of bright green grass, neatly cut, in the shade of a willow tree. The sun shone down behind scattered fluffy clouds and birds sang above his head.

Was he in the Celestial Realm? He got to his feet and put his hands on his hips as he looked around before deciding to head down a stone path.

In the distance he heard the laughter of children, it always brought a smile to his face and he sighed happily, sure he was somewhere safe.

As he trailed along the stone path by tall rose bushes and small bird baths he came to an open field of bright flowers. Among them was a boy dressed in fine clothes, smiling brightly as he picked the flowers and gathered them in a woven basket.

Simeon approached the boy cautiously, not wanting to alarm him but the boy was startled anyway. His shock faded and he beamed, dropping his basket and flowers and running to Simeon to embrace him in a hug.

“Father!” He exclaimed and Simeon froze in place, now considerably more confused than before.

“Oh—“ was all Simeon could exclaim. The boy parted from him and smiled again, he ran back to the flowers and brought the basket to Simeon.

“Dad, I got these for you.” He said sweetly.

Regardless of his confusion, Simeon smiled at the boy and patted his head as he accepted the flowers. He crouched down to meet the boy’s level and smiled.

“Thank you very much. I can tell you picked these with great care.” Simeon’s words were not a lie. Among all the flowers in the field, the boy brought the ones Simeon found most appealing.

“Does mom know you’re home yet?” He asked and Simeon shook his head.

“I don’t believe they do,” he replied truthfully.

Who was his mother? If he were the father, Simeon had only one person come to mind. You. He blushed as he imagined you as the mother to his children. Perhaps this was the Celestial Realm, his Father had granted him the opportunity to be with you in a grand dream.

The boy gripped Simeon’s hand, laughing, and pulled him through a beautiful garden to a circle of trees with a polished table in the middle, blocking the direct sun with the shade of the trees.

That’s when he saw you and his heart fluttered. In your nicest attire, you sat at the table watching another child color as you held an infant in your arms.

You smiled excitedly at your husband’s early return and the girl at the table jumped down and ran to Simeon, hugging his leg and waving her drawing in the air.

“Daddy! Daddy, I drew you! Look! Isn’t it good? Look!”

You chuckled and carefully got up, holding the baby in your arms.

Simeon approached you quickly and held out his arms to cradle the child, wrapped in light white cloth so they didn’t get too warm.

Simeon looked into the sleepy child’s eyes and saw his own. He smiled and you gently hugged his side as your daughter ran back to the table to keep drawing.

“Mary’s been drawing all day, that’s all she wants to do,” you sighed and Simeon smiled but never spoke as he listened attentively.

“Simon’s been picking flowers for an hour, Raphael and Luke are watching the twins, and I’ve been trying to get John to sleep for a few hours now.”

The baby, whom Simeon presumed was John, yawned and shifted in his arms, eyes fluttering closed.

“Of course, he was just waiting for you. He’s such a daddy’s boy.” You teased.

Simeon chuckled, the joy he felt in this moment was insurmountable. As the light breeze blew his bangs across his eyes, Simeon felt a shiver throughout his whole body and handed John back to you.

You gave him a concerned look but your worry dissipated as he leaned in and gently kissed your forehead.

He gave you a gentle smile and looked behind you.

You turned around to see Michael. “Oh, hello Michael, it’s been some time,” you remarked and he nodded but looked past you at Simeon.

Your brows furrowed concerned Simeon got himself into some mischief again. For an angel, he certainly caused his higher-ups a lot of headaches.

Simeon nodded back to Michael and disappeared before your eyes.

“Daddy?” Mary gasped and dropped her crayons.

“Mama?” Simon asked and gripped your shirt, confused.

You gave an equally confused look to Michael who briefly explained, “That wasn’t your Simeon. Don’t worry you’ll see him again soon.”

“Not…my Simeon?” You asked, nervous.

Michael shook his head and smiled at you, “He seems to have stepped out of time briefly, but we’ve sent him back to your past self.”

You had a moment of recollection and realized today’s date.

You raised a brow and looked at a pleased Michael, “Michael…was that Simeon from eleven years ago?”

Michael chuckled and nodded. You laughed to yourself and looked at Simon who had just unknowingly picked the bouquet Simeon would give you on the date he’d propose.

You patted your son’s head and kissed his cheek. He looked surprised but gave you a tight hug and laugh.

Time was strange like that. You’d planted the flowers Simeon gave you on your date as a reminder of that day, only for those flowers to be the ones you’d been given. It was hard to wrap your head around so you didn’t think about it for long. Instead, you waited in the garden until Simeon came home.

[reidsexual]

Forgotten II

It’s taking everything in you not to focus on the latest news circling Gotham. But everywhere you turn, there it is.

“Just in: Nightwing returns!”

“Nightwing reportedly seen battling against infamous KGBeast!”

“Peacemaker of the Night strikes back!”

So here you were - grabbing some coffee despite the late hour and the chilling breeze that accompanied it. You knew Dick wouldn’t approve, as Bludhaven wasn’t exactly known for its harmless background.

But who cares? He wasn’t here now.

Truth be told, you wanted to see Dick. Scratch that, that was an understatement. You were aching to see him.

But the questionability of the entire situation much outweighed that of your desire to speak to him again. How much of his life does he remember? Does he even want to see you? What would you say to him?

You take a sip of your coffee to calm your thoughts, the glow of the streetlights only enhancing the posters stuck on the walls. All of which were about Nightwing’s latest spectacle with KGBeast in Bludhaven.

You don’t even catch yourself staring until you feel your phone vibrate against your pocket. You peel your attention away from all the candid shots and bold words to look at the caller.

It’s Donna.

You pick up, holding the phone to your ear while simultaneously walking down the road. “Donna?” You speak her name, wondering to yourself why she’s calling out of the blue.

“Have you visited Dick?” She asks, cutting to the chase. You sigh dramatically, seeing your breath hang around in the air from the coolness of the weather.

“No.” Replying simply. It’s probably better to keep your words short and simple.

“No? Or not yet?” Garth butts in, taking you by surprise. You slap a hand on your forehead. Of course Garth is listening in.

“Garth.” Donna warns, and you can practically feel the seriousness of the stare she shoots at him.

“We’re not rushing you. Take as much time as you need to adjust. It can’t possibly be easy, trust me, I know.” Your friend reassures you, warming your heart quite a bit. At times like this, you were grateful to have a friend who understood you so well.

“I know. I know.” It’s been hard for you to focus on how you felt, especially since you didn’t want to give much thought to how devastated you were when Dick lost his memories.

You should be jumping with joy, but you feel so numb. So empty. And what scares you is the fact that you don’t know where it’s coming from.

“You still there?” Donna checks in after a long pause, finding your silence quite unnerving.

“Thank you for checking in, Donna. Garth too.” And with that, you hang up the phone. You toss your unfinished coffee into the nearest trash bin and put your head in your hands. You don’t even like coffee.

You almost curse out loud when you see the words written in spray paint right above the bin. “Bludhaven is safe again! Long live, Nightwing!” It reads, with a drawing of his symbol right next to it.

Your eyes slide to the picture pasted below, barely handing on with a measly piece of tape. Your eyes mist over, a shot of Dick as Nightwing staring back at you.

“Handsome guy.” A familiar voice says, and you can feel your body immediately stiffen up. You can’t turn around. You shouldn’t. But your emotions get the better of you.

Your gaze shifts sideways and there he is. Dick Grayson. Not Ric or Nightwing.

“Dick?” You whisper uncertainly. He puts his hands up sarcastically, though his gaze on you remains intent and soft. “Caught me.”

The back of your eyes prickle and you can feel your throat start to close up. But you can’t cry in front of him - not when this is his first time seeing you after everything.

“How much do you remember?” You don’t know if you can even trust yourself to speak, with how foggy your mind is and how much effort it takes you to even utter a syllable in his presence.

“I remember enough.” He takes a step forward, and you don’t even notice that you take a step back before you see the distraught look on his face.

“You didn’t come to visit me.” His words carry no malice, no hint of accusation. Just plain stating. But your guilt still eats at you either way.

Your face falls, too ashamed to look into his eyes in fear that you might get sucked into them. “I didn’t know how to react.” You say truthfully.

“That’s fair.” Dick nods his head before nodding over to the trash can. “What’s not fair is wasting a perfectly good cup of coffee.”

You know he’s only trying to lighten up the situation, but it only makes you realize that he’s been watching you for longer than he’s been speaking.

“Dick, I just need to get my mind right. Set my thoughts straight.” You start carefully, the near-icy weather making you feel numb and frozen up. Or was it Dick himself?

“I let you slip away from me once. I will not let it happen again.” Before you realize it, you two are a step apart from each other. Your breathings are in sync, and you realize that he’s probably as nervous as you are right now.

“That wasn’t your fault.” You shake your head, your shoes being the only thing you can afford to look at for now.

“Then why are you acting so distant?” He sounds pained, and you know that if you look straight at him - you’ll be as vulnerable as he sounds now.

“A lot of things have happened, Dick. You can’t expect to just regain your memories and have everything work out. It doesn’t work like that.” You know you could be acting quite unfair right now, he’s just trying to make amends. But even ice melts when not taken care of properly.

“Can you look at me?”

You shake your head.

Dick gently tips your chin up, slowly enough to let you know that you can push his touch away. But you don’t.

He’s staring at you now, and you can see the faint rims of red in the corner of his eyes. He’s been crying. You can only hope it’s not noticeable on you either.

“I know you’re hurting. And you don’t deserve that. You deserve to be loved for - and I swear to you, I will make up for all I’ve missed. I can promise you that much.” His voice is so soft, his breath brushing against your lips in a way that threatens bringing back old memories.

It takes a lot of willpower for you to not let his words get to you. So you ask a question you know he’s going to avoid. “And what of Bea?”

He looks like you’ve taken him off guard, his gaze faltering. “I broke up with her.” He discloses, self loathing oozing in his words.

“Why?”

“To protect her from the lifestyle I have. She-she shouldn’t have to-”

“Handle it?” You finish for him, unable to hide your frustration. He doesn’t answer, looking at you like he wants to explain something in a way he doesn’t quite know how.

You grab his wrist and push his hand off your chin. Closing your eyes for a moment, you let yourself speak. Really speak.

“Dick, I love you. I’ve known you since we were kids, do you really think I’m capable of despising you? The affection I have for you will never leave my soul until I’m off this earth.” You ramble, months of holding in your tongue coming to a halt.

“So yes, when you couldn’t remember me or any of us, it hurt! I had to pick myself up, start fresh, throw my emotions on the backseat.” Dick looks like he’s about to say something, but he closes his mouth again to let you speak.

“I’m not blaming you for KGBeast’s actions. And I can’t express how much I want his head on a platter for what he did to you. But did you really think nothing would change between us? It’s unfair.”

You don’t even notice that you’re crying until you feel Dick’s hands on both sides of your face, rubbing your tears away as gently as he can with his thumbs.

The moonlight enhances his features, you think. Giving a soft glow to his facial structure, all the way down to the jawline you would press soft kisses to every morning.

“And you fall in love with this beautiful girl. Who makes you happy, even when you’re not you. You got yourself the life you deserved, and you threw it all away!” You know you’re shouting now, and you pound your fists against his chest.

You know even the strongest of your strikes can’t hurt him, which only frustrates you to no end. And the question rises - why do you want to hurt him?

“Why do you do this to yourself?” You cry out, sobbing in between words. “Why don’t you allow yourself to be happy, dammit, Dick!”

Dick does nothing to stop your punches against his chest, instead circling his arms around your figure and bringing you in closer to him.

You’ve missed this. You missed the feeling of him pulling you in, your bodies fitting together perfectly. But not under these circumstances.

Eventually, your punches slow down, weaken. You break into tears, frenzied arguments turning into broken noises and gasps of air as Dick holds you close. He makes sure you don’t fall to the ground, keeping you standing when you don’t have enough strength to do it for yourself.

Your tears make a wet patch on his shirt and he rests his chin on the top of your head, running his fingers down your hair the way he used to. “I know, baby, I know.” He says soothingly, even if the sight of you like this makes him feel like crumbling to the ground too.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats several times, and you are too. You’re sorry for the future you guys could’ve had together. You’re sorry for the missed time. You’re sorry for letting him go.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Just a Little Bit Of Your Heart pt. IV

ship: Azriel x Reader type: fluff word count: 2,1k  warnings: none summary: Something special has happened..... fic masterlist

You find yourself lying in the cocoon of Azriel's strong arms, wings spread beneath his tall body. Your breaths mingle in the air between your faces, the silence of the room only interrupted by the sounds of your mouths touching and the little moans leaving you. Strays of moonlight filter through the curtains, casting silvery hues across the walls.

Azriel's hand, calloused and scarred but so tender in its caress, cups your cheek, thumb stroking over your skin. His eyes, like warm honey meet yours. "You are so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I love you so much, my mate."

The word still somehow sounds so foreign. But it makes your heart flutter, your chest warm. The glowing ribbons connecting your souls stretches out and brings your bodies closer together. 

"You are my world, my mate," you whisper, "you and Everly." 

"You are my world. My everything. You and Everly." Tears glisten in both your eyes about the happiness you are feeling. This is wonderful and perfect. 

Azriel kisses the corner of your mouth, fingers stroking down your neck. Then his lips close over yours, simultaneously to his finger hooking under the strap of your nightgown. He parts your lips with his tongue, brushing yours, deepening the kiss, but ending it way too quickly. 

A sly smile dances on his lips when he meets your gaze, chuckling the pout on your mouth. "Have we ever properly consummated the bond, my mate?" he asks, his voice carrying along sensual promises. 

"Haven't we?" you purr and memories flood your brain. Your best friend had looked over Everly the day after the bond had snapped. You couldn't…you had needed him so much, there was no other way. It was the bond's doing and you only gave Everly away for half a day. But during this time, Azriel and you have not once left the bedroom. He took you against every possible furniture and when you ran out of those he took you against the wall, on the floor and even on the windowsill. 

You were completely blissed out by the end of it, and basically walked on clouds when your best friend returned little Everly. She wore a shit-eating grin, remarking a million times how exhausted you looked. 

You had to give her that - you probably really did. But you did not care. It was all worth it.

And just the thought about once again having sex with Azriel…after quite some time without intimacy sounds incredibly good and already makes your blood heat. 

"Maybe we should have a do-over then?" You raise your brow at him and Azriel is quick to close the distance between your lips, his broad hands braced on both sides of your head. He leans over you, wedging in between your thighs, deepening the kiss. "Maybe we should," he rasps against your lips, rolling his hips against yours- his hardest parts pressing against your softest. 

Your hand slides into his hair and you kiss him with new-found vigour, tugging softly because it draws the absolute most beautiful and adorable sounds from your mate. He groans softly, hand sliding down your torso so he can pull up your nightgown. 

It is all perfect, arousal acute on both sides, until—

Until all of a sudden, a distant cry pierces through the silence. A faint whimper drifts from the room next door where your little bundle of joy should be peacefully asleep. 

"She’s hungry," you whisper against the shadowsinger's lips. Azriel pulls back the slightest bit and smiles, his eyes still closed. A low chuckle leaves him. "Just like her mother - always hungry…but for different kind of things." A smirk appears on his lips, he can’t hide it and you feel a blush creep into your cheeks. 

"Azriel!" you reprimand and shove at his chest. He laughs again and you love the sound - it’s so rich and pure, a low rumble that makes the hair on your body stand on end. He kisses your lips again, but when the cry sounds again he sits up, back on his heels and looses a long breath. 

"I‘ll go to her, you get some sleep." He smiles when he is about to move of the bed, but ypu reach for him, stopping him.

"Unfortunately you don’t have what she wants right now - my boobies." Chuckling you point at your chest and Azriel’s eyes follow, lingering for a moment and then he bows. "Right…" he breathes but then lifts his head with a bright smile.

"I‘ll still get her. She can drink here. And then she can sleep here." Now, he moves of the bed, your laugh following him until he is out of the door.

Somehow, nearly every night Azriel finds a way to let her sleep in your bed. He always says he loves it when his whole family is together. It brings him and also you so much joy, you would never say no. And why should you? All three of you here…it’s just perfect. You would have never ever dreamed of a life like this. And especially not with Azriel. One night of pleasure and fun…you would have never thought it would lead to that. That you are now living together. That you have a daughter. That you are…mated. 

The word is so…it feels so incredibly surreal. You hadn’t really believed in mating bonds prior to the moment it snapped between Azriel and you. He cried. You were overwhelmed and of course cried as well.

Only a few weeks ago your life had been wholly different, but you would never want to turn back time. Everything is perfect the way it is. With your little family.

"Sshh, it’s all good, little bat." Azriel’s low and gentle voice alongside soft mewling reaches you through the half-open door. You have to smile. You can’t avoid it.

He pushes open the door with his foot and steps in, little Everly cradled to his bare chest. A sight for sore eyes…and it truly brings tears to your eyes..

You were so worried to raise her alone. For her to never meet her father. All these worries are gone now. She has Azriel as her father…the best male both you and her could have ever hoped for.

He walks over to bed, shadows guiding him as his gaze is fixed upon the little babe in his arms, his eyes not once lifting. He still looks mesmerised when looking at her — fully in awe and admiration of the little bundle.

Azriel braces his knee on the bed, bends at the waist and kisses the top of your head. Then he hands you little Everly, still mewling and pursing her lips.

The moment you remove your shirt, and bring her to your breast, the mewling stops, her eyes lighting up and she begins to suckle happily.

Azriel climbs onto the bed again, sitting down next to you, his arm naturally curling around your shoulders to bring you to his chest. You rest against him, exhaling a long breath, the tip of your finger brushing over her cheek. "She got that from you," you giggle and tip your head back to meet his gaze. Azriel raises a brow and gives you a questioning look. 

"The love for my boobies!" You have to laugh at that (of course only softly to not disturb little Everly with the shaking of your chest). But a loud and whole-hearted laugh leaves Azriel, his eyes lighting up like the stars in the night sky. "My mate," he says after a moment of laughing, squeezing you to his side. "You are very right."

You sit in silence while Everly drinks, solely enjoying the peaceful moment. Azriel's fingers stroke up and down your upper arm, his gaze focused on Everly. His shadows dance over her, brushing her and your hand softly. You hum to yourself until she is done and you let her do her little burp.

It always makes Azriel giggle and you love the sound. It is so pure, so joyful. 

As usual he kisses her little head when you place her between the two of you, tucking her close, Azriel's arm wrapping around the both of you, his head placed next to her body, yours on the other side.

"I love you, Y/N" Azriel whispers. "And I will never ever be able to thank you enough for bringing me such happiness and luck." You reach out your hand and caress his cheek. "I love you, Azriel."

Everly is not yet sleeping, cooing and babbling a little. You rest your hand on her belly, fingertips brushing her chin. She is still so tiny. So fragile. And yet such a large wonder in your life. The best thing that could have ever happened to the two of you. 

"Can you sing for her?" you whispers and kiss his shoulder. "Can you sing for us?"

Azriel doesn't have to be told twice. He has never been one to like singing for an audience - but for his two favourite girls? He loves to sing. He loves how much warmth and happiness reaches him through the bond and how easily Everly falls asleep when he sings for her. 

Hush, little baby don't you

Hush, little baby don't say a word

Papa's gonna buy you a mocking bird

And if that mocking bird don't sing

Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"She looks exactly like you, Azzy." A big grin adorns Cassian's face, his eyes jumping between his brother and the little babe in his brother's arms. "Even the small wings — exactly like yours."

Cassian seems absolutely amazed. 

"She is beautiful," Nesta mumbles with admiration in her voice. "But what else is there to expect with a mother like you, Y/N."

You immediately blush at the compliment. And their kindness. They accepted you so easily. You immediately became a part of the family. They also accepted Everly so easily. It's now their second time seeing her, but last time was really short, this time you will spend more time here. Letting her meet her family. 

"Oh, Nesta," you whisper and shake your head. Your hand rests on Azriel's thigh and you squeeze softly. A little sign to show him how much this means to you. How happy it makes you. 

And it makes him just as happy. Now Azriel's family is truly complete. He has a mate. A child. He has his own family. It is all perfect now. Everything he has ever hoped for came true and he couldn't be any happier. 

And now seems the perfect moment to…

"We've got something else we need to tell you," Azriel says. He removes one arm from Everly and moves his hand over yours, squeezing softly. You meet his gaze and dip your chin, telling him that it is the perfect timing to reveal it now. 

"We are sitting on hot coals, Azzy, tell us!" Cassian impatiently expresses and then giggles at the tiny baby girl wrapping her little hand around his finger, tugging softly. Tears glisten in his eyes, both at the little wonder and the happiness he feels for his brother. You and Everly are exactly what Azriel deserves and he couldn't be happier that his brother has found such luck. And now, he is burning to find out what you have to tell them. Maybe you are getting married.

Azriel looses a long breath, meets your gaze and then looks at Cassian. "Somehow…as unexpected as everything else in our union is, Y/N and I have discovered," —he interrupts himself with a big grin. He can't go on for a moment, a single tear sliding out of his eye— "that we are mates." 

"The bond snapped a four days ago," you add and lean over to kiss Azriel's cheek. 

Gasps rumble through the room and then his family breaks out in soft cheers and delighted congratulations, both Azriel's brothers, Rhysand and Cassian lunging for him, always careful of the baby in his arms. The females come to you and congratulate you and this is when the damn breaks and you start to cry — tears of happiness. 

"Mated and a father within such a short time…Az, I must say I am truly impressed," Cassian chuckles and clasps Azriel's shoulder in his hand. "And very happy about it."

"You have no idea how happy I am," the shadowsinger answer and smiles at his brother, then his gaze returns to you, locking. "How happy you made me."

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

[4sturns]

TICKLISH

matt s. x gn!reader

genre: tooth rotting fluff

synopsis: where matt's trying to show your body the love it deserves by leaving light kisses all over your skin, but he forgets you're far too ticklish to handle them.

warnings: intro seems sus but have faith in me, cavity inducing sweetness, pet names (baby, honey, dear), delusions galore

a/n: thank you for 600 followers, enjoy this cute piece as my token of appreciation 🖤 this also has to be one of my favorite pieces i have ever written she's just so cute

matt has you pinned under him, his lips leaving feather like kisses around your jaw, slowly making his way down to your neck. it's the soft and gentle touch that you've been craving all day, accompanied with matt's presence of course.

your hands are held together above your head by matt's left hand while his right hand rests by your shoulder, holding his weight up.

when matt presses a kiss to the junction between your neck and shoulder, you release a content breath. your boyfriend never fails to make you feel loved. he cherishes every single inch of your body as if you were an angel in disguise, and to matt, he fully believes that you truly are an angel, his angel.

his soft, plump lips work their way down from your collarbone to the top of your chest. he leaves open mouthed kisses to the skin, his long eyelashes fluttering against your chest in result to his close proximity which makes you let out a small giggle.

matt's head pops up from his position below you as a gentle smile graces over his features. he releases his grip on your hands and lets them fall to his head. your hands waste no time as they get lost in his soft locks, massaging at his scalp. matt closes his eyes and lets out a little sigh, letting you know how much he's enjoying your touch.

"what's got you all giggly, baby?" matt grumbles against you, his head falls down to rest on top of your exposed stomach as one of his hands come up to draw shapes into the soft skin.

"it's nothing, honey. i just got a little ticklish, that's all." you continue to play with matt's hair.

the room's quiet, but it's peaceful. the lights are low in your boyfriend's room. the little led ghost fixture by his bed illuminates the side of his face, making him look like the most beautiful boy you've ever laid eyes on.

"ticklish, you say?" matt lifts his head back up. a mischievous smirk appears on his face, but before you can even react, you feel his lips return to the sensitive skin of your stomach as his fingers attack your sides, making you break out into fits of laughter.

you're thrashing around under him, hands trying so hard to push his off and away from your sides, but it only pushes him to tickle you harder. you're shrieking at this point, your face red from the lack of air as your uncontrollable laughter gets the better of you. matt joins in too, his chuckles and occasional screeches fill up the room with yours.

"matt, baby, i can't— i can't breathe!" you're tearing up as matt continues to attack your sides. but you're not going to let him get away with this.

with a small intake of air, you gather up all the strength you have left in your body and flip the both of you, causing for matt to be the one on the bottom now. you act fast, hands working diligently on his body as his eyes close and a light shade of pink dusts his cheeks.

you have one hand working at his armpit as the other attacks his side, similarly to how he tickled you moments prior.

now matt's the one begging for mercy as his giggles echo off the walls of the room and leak through to the rest of the house. you wish for him to always feel this kind of joy in his life. you never want this moment to end, but you know you don't have much time before he has you under him again, and you're not quite ready to be the victim to another ruthless tickle attack again.

your hands switch around to tickle at other parts of his body you're sure he's ticklish at, while your eyes scan matt's face. his eyes are closed shut but you can still make out the tears of laughter that threaten to spill from his eyes. his cheeks are now a shade of red, whether it's from the intense laughter or from how flustered he gets when he feels your body against his will be a mystery, but you'll question him about it later. his mouth is wide open as loud cackles and giggles escape his throat. you're positive his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard as much as you're sure his body probably aches from the insane amount of laughter and joy flowing from his body.

"so now who's ticklish!" you taunt him. he does little to fight back, having given up on swatting your hands away a while back. you note how he's struggling to respond to you which causes a string of cackles to leave your body.

suddenly, you're flipped over again and your back rests against the sheets once more. your eyes are shut tightly as you brace yourself for a second round of attacks, but they never come.

instead, you open your eyes to see a giggling matt hovering above you. his eyes are glistening with so much joy that you could almost mistake him as a kid whose parent got him ice cream from the ice cream truck down the street.

his eyes melt into yours before he breaks the sound of quiet chuckling with his soft and spent voice.

"i call a truce! i can't handle another round, my fingers ache." matt's still trying to catch his breath, chest heaving against yours as he tries hard to keep his laughter at bay. he flashes you a wide smile, a genuine one, which mirrors yours.

you quickly lift your hands up and put them in the air to show your surrender, before linking them around matt's neck, pulling him in closer to you. your lips collide in a sweet and passionate kiss. one which you both smile through, only to break away with another giggle.

"a truce it is, my dear."

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9

Chapter 10. - Chapter 11. - Chapter 12

Chapter 13. - Chapter 14

Word Count: 1652

Chapter 14:

It was not long before the next trial appeared in your path. Once again, it was a house, though different from the last one.

There was no beach, no sunset and no expensive vibe coming from it.

What was different, though, was the fact that Alice seemed to recognise it.

"Pass." She exclaimed, going as far as to take a few steps back.

You arched an eyebrow and looked at her, getting the feeling that there was something inside there she wished to avoid or worse, something she did not want to remember.

Something was telling you this would be her trial, her own fear, and personal test that they all had to pass if they wished to make it to the next trial.

Rio gasped in joy. "A mutiny already?" She asked rhetorically with a toothy grin that made you all uneasy... well, almost all.

Agatha sighed. "Alice."

Yet the witch refused to take a single step.

You turned to face her. "So, what's the plan, Alice?" You asked, trying to make her see that there was not not of an option left.

"Go back. Go around. Go anywhere but in that house." Was her answer, and she went as far as to try and walk back where you all came from.

Yet a few steps after, she gasped upon spotting the very same house blocking her way. It was becoming evident rather fast that the Road was not going to take a No for an answer.

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

In the end, the group walked towards the next trial; Alice trailing behind with hesitation.

Immediately, you took notice of the glass stained door; depicting a moon phase once again, in a rather favourable and deep red shade.

"Waxing moon." Lilia informed, her hand gently brushing over the protruding 3d stained glass.

"The fire phase." Teen exclaimed, earning a nod from the older witch.

You glanced at Alice, seeing her regretting everything and you were now even more certain this was her trial.

Of course, you could not help but be curious as to what kind of trial you were about to face.

"Okay." Agatha exclaimed and pushed the door open. "Come on. Don't drink anything. Don't eat anything. Don't touch anything... It feels like there's a story there."

The moment the door closed and trapped you inside, everyone dared to look at one another and then at themselves.

"Oh, check me out," Agatha said, passing her hands slowly above her rather revealing dark outfit that have 70s-80s rock ballad vibes.

You could not help but stare a little longer, your eyes unwillingly following her hands as you took in every curve of her body. Your gaze remained a little more on both the view of behind but also the very open cut of her cleavage and abdomen, barely covering her perked up chest.

Agatha caught your gaze and slowed down her hand movements on purpose, enjoying the reactions she was drawing from you. She was a killer in that outfit. She was not going to lie, and she loved how she practically enchanted you without even trying.

Eventually, she chose to tease you. "Lips closed, sugar. We don't want any flies going in"

This made you focus on her and realize you had been staring with your mouth slightly open, an embarrassing thing for you to admit. Clearing your throat, you averted your gaze towards yourself and prayed your cheeks had not blushed from being caught red-handed.

You took notice of your outfit, once again changed to fit whatever aesthetic the road seemed to have chosen for each trial.

Long gone were the shirts and pants, replaced by a 70s slightly more rock era for you.

You moved your legs faintly, feeling the leather pants stretching and wrapping around your legs, while you also had leather black knee length boots; already too much leather for your liking.

Two extravagant belts with fake diamond and huge buckles drew most of your attention, their shining effect perhaps being the most interesting thing on this outfit.

Unlike Agath and Rio, you were more modest this time. Your bright crop stopped after your ribcage, leaving only a small piece of skin to be shown between it and your high waist leather pants. No cleavage this time for you, the fabric stretching all the way to your neck.

The cherry to the top was not the four necklaces of various lengths hanging in front of you but your short leather jacket, ending to shiny armcuffs.

"Hmmm..." someone exclaimed, sounding like a faint approving moan. "Someone fits the role of a bad girl pretty well"

You glanced to the source of it, seeing Rio eyeing you up and down before licking her upper lip faintly.

Between your bad girl rock style and Agatha's revealing leather one, she definitely had the time of her life and was not trying to hide it either.

Agatha glanced at her above her shoulder, giving Rio a disapproving look but the green witch merely pulled an innocent face; as fake as her good personality.

"The Road changes for the coven." You reminded everyone, once you were all done checking each other out.

"The Road isn't subtle." Jen argued, and you nodded faintly.

Now with that out of the way, you all chose to explore the room and try to find a clue or instructions; like that fancy envelope with the Riddle found in the first trial.

You walked slowly, taking notice of the spacey interior that resembled a 70s-80s recording place or booth. The designs, the colours, and the fancy couches at the sides fit the vibe perfectly.

Of course, one should not fail to mention that the majority of colours found all around were in different shades of red; perhaps a tribute to the fire phase associated with your trial.

As you all spread to explore, you felt as if someone had followed you. Your suspicions were proven correct when Rio sneaked up behind you, her lips too close to your face.

"Why the sour face? Thought you would be happy to see me," she whispered in your ear.

Immediately, you looked around to see if anyone was watching you. The last thing you needed was for the coven to find you knew Rio, even if not that well.

There were enough tensions and mistrust as their was already no need to add more fuel to the already big fire; that threatened to escape and burn you all in the process.

You turned to face her, only to miscalculated how close your faces were. Subconsciously you took a step back, only to feel the base of a couch that threatened to trip you if you dared to continue.

"You should not be here, Rio," you hissed in a low tone, trying not to let her closeness intimidate you. "You don't belong in this road"

She seemed amused by your reaction and your futile attempt to try and stand your ground. She took a step closer, your knees brushing against one another, and she was so tempted to give you a little push; watch you fall on the couch, fully exposed and ready to be taken.

"You summoned me here" she reminded you, her smirk never leaving her tempting lips.

"We summoned a green witch. We both know you are far from it" you argued, doing your best not to let her affect you as your faces were closer than before.

Her dark eyes seemed to be locked to your moving lips a little longer, making it clear what kind of thoughts passed through her mind; or at least you hoped you knew.

"I can do both, no big deal," she replied smugly. "I feel you simply don't want me around Agatha"

You kept your chin up and took a deep breath. "If I say yes, will it change anything?"

She lifted her hand, and you did your best not to react to the movement or focus too much on the rather exposed cleavage too close into your personal space.

"Nope," Rio replied and spread her hand on your cheek, trying to reenact a soft and caring movement. "But you should cheer up. This is where the fun begins, " she grinned. "Let us see which one of us will keep her in the end"

You had been trying hard to fight the goosebumps her cold hand was causing you. The moment she brought up Agatha and the fact that you had to fight for her affection like some sort of game; you snapped.

You grabbed her wrist in a rather iron grip, your gaze darker than before. In a swift motion, you had switched places with her, and the force of the move sent her straight on the couch.

She laid on her side, surprised by your reaction and yet she chuckled; clearly enjoying this little game between you and her.

"Do not dare to play with her emotions, Rio. I don't care what past you two have, but I dare you to try and play with her feelings..." White magic sparked between your fingers, your threat passing loud and clear.

Rio took notice, remembering the rather unique and slightly annoying feeling your magic had on her. Never enough to truly harm her but it was a sign of how polar you two were.

Ironically, it was also the first step in you finding out who she was.

When Rio merely kept looking at you and with your anger still rising, you chose to walk away and hope she got the message. You had to keep a distance between you and her, or you were afraid something would happen; whether bad or good.

After all, the moon was not going to be full forever, and only the triple godess knew what would happen; if once again Rio influenced your darker side when it was at each peak.

Chapter 15

[vampireinprada]

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS LOVE

soft!rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: none, just a cute fluffy christmas story! it is my first story, so that might be a warning within itself 🙂

wc: 761

merry christmas, if you celebrate! happy holidays !!!

——————————

Rafe has been relentlessly asking you what you want for Christmas since the start of the holiday season, and his questions have only increased as the holiday approaches.

You were curled up on the couch in your shared house, reading a novel in a soft, white sweater, your feet tucked up comfortably beneath you. The warmth from the fireplace permeated the room, adding to the cozy atmosphere you’ve carefully crafted for a quiet reading session. 

Just as you turned the page, Rafe leaned over the back of the couch, his face hovering above yours. “Baby, Christmas is almost here. You must know what you want by now,” he whined, his tone playful but persistent.

“I told you, Rafe. I don’t want anything,” you replied casually, lifting the next page of your novel as you prepared to dive back into the story. Rafe let out a soft laugh, and you looked up at him, slightly puzzled, trying to figure out what was so funny. He was still chuckling as he shook his head.

“You not wanting anything is crazy to me,” he teased. “I mean, come on. You can’t expect me to believe that. Miss ‘Rafey, this bag is so pretty. I wan’ it.’ ‘Rafeeeeee, I need these shoes,’” he mocked in an exaggerated manner, grinning at the memory of your past shopping sprees.

As his mocking continued, you finally set your book down, placing it gently on the table in front of you. With a lively sigh, you wrapped your arms around the neck of your beautiful boyfriend, drawing him closer. 

“‘Rafeeeee, I like this ring from Tiffany’s. Can I get it? Rafeeeeee,’” he imitated in a high-pitched voice, causing you to remove your hand from his neck and lightly smack his arm. “Alright, I get it, ya know?” you said with a grin, rolling your eyes. 

“I know you do, baby,” he said, his voice softening as he pulled you back towards him. Without thinking, he slid his firm hands around your waist, a gesture he’d perfected over time. “But seriously, how can ya tell me ya don’t want anything and expect me to believe it?” Rafe asked, a merry smile tugging at his lips.

You were the next to burst into a fit of laughter, unable to contain yourself at how adorable Rafe was being. His persistance was admirable, and quite amusing, so you decided to play along.

“What? What is it, baby?” he asked, his smile lines deepening as he watched with delight at the childlike beauty of your laughter. His eyes gleamed, clearly enchanted by your joy. 

“Well, there is one thing that I want,” you said cheekily, giving him a mischievous look. Rafe’s eyes widened in victory, and he scrambled for his phone, his fingers already tapping away as he prepared to make the purchase.

“See? I knew you wanted something,” he cheered, his voice practically bursting with excitement. He was absolutely eager to spoil you once again. Honestly, he’d buy you a whole island if you so much as hinted at wanting it. 

With a smile, Rafe bent down to meet you at eye level, his phone in hand. “What is it you wanted?” he asked, his tone tender and full of affection. 

You scrunch your nose in the cutest way possible, to Rafe, before pulling him closer and, in a soft voice, said, “Your love. All I want for Christmas is love.” 

Rafe paused, his expression shifting as he absorbed your words. He put down his phone, attention now entirely on you. “Yeah? That’s it?” he asked, a touch of disbelief in his voice. 

You nodded, a bright, eager smile illuminating your face. “That’s it,” you repeated, your heart full. The love between you two was magnetic, something so deep and pure, it almost felt like magic. It was the kind of love that made everything feel secondary. In that moment, Rafe thought—no, knew—he might love you forever. 

Without a second thought, Rafe swept you up in his arms and carried you up the stairs of your shared home. The sounds of your laughter and his heartbeat echoed in the quiet house. ”My love it is, my darling,” he murmured as you both entered the bedroom, the outside world fading away.

He set you gently on the bed, his eyes locked on yours, filled with unspoken promise. “My love you’ll get,” he said, voice low, full of devotion and a tinge of desire.

In that moment, you both knew that all the gifts in the world could never compare to the love you shared.

if you made it to this point, thank you for reading ! i found my thing for the new year i guess 🤭 !!!

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | vi.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

"You know you shouldn’t lead him on like that," Mindy muses from your bed, her eyes not lifting from the Stephen King novel she’s engrossed in. 

You place your phone above the vanity drawer after hanging up. You just decided on another study meetup with Ethan. 

It’s been a few weeks since he began tutoring you. There’s been a sharp improvement in your grades and you’re starting to believe that maybe you’ll be able to graduate just like the rest of your friends. 

Before, all those things felt as unreachable as the stars in the sky. But Ethan, with his kindness and unlimited supply of patience, made it a reality. 

Sure, you won’t be a top student anytime soon, but at least now there’s hope of you not failing the course and falling behind. 

"What? I’m not leading him on. Ethan and I are just friends," you defend, puckering your lips as you apply the finishing touches to your makeup before the big game. Your gaze keeps bouncing to the clock. The playoffs begin in a little less than an hour. 

Tensions are high tonight. This is no regular game as whichever team wins will go on to compete in the national championship. 

It’s one of the reasons Chad and most of the guys on the team have been in a weird mood all week. 

Besides, honor’s at stake when a team plays on their own turf. 

The pressure’s been off the charts for the cheer squad too, Alana having run the team into the ground to perform well today and not miss a single step. 

Despite how exhausted you are, you’re almost thankful for that. Focusing on cheerleading has helped you file away that god awful night. 

The humiliation you experienced still burns a hole inside you whenever you remember it.

While you can’t quite shake the lingering sensation of being watched, you can at least try to reclaim a semblance of normalcy. 

Hopefully Ghostface had his fill of tormenting you and won’t do anything like that ever again. 

Mindy arches her brow and scoffs, "It’s pretty obvious he’s got some desperate puppy crush on you." Under her breath, she mumbles, "...And I’m still not entirely convinced he’s not Ghostface."

You pause, the tip of your lipstick almost snapping as you press it tight against your mouth. You unleash a heavy sigh and whirl to her, brows drawing together.

"Mindy, please. Not that again," you plead. 

It's not the first time your best friend has shared her doubts regarding Ethan and you wager it won't be the last.

Every time she catches you texting him or hanging out, disapproval paints her features. She also squints and gestures at him that she’s watching him whenever she crosses paths with him. 

It saddens you that she can’t get along with him and won’t relent regarding her suspicions. 

Ethan’s helped you so much. It’s unfair that your best friend keeps claiming he’s a murderer without any evidence to back it up. 

And outside of tutoring, he’s been a great friend to you, always here to wipe your tears and listen to you talk about anything, however trivial. Every time you ramble on about cartoons, your collection of stuffed animals and how you’d love to get more, clothes or anything really…Ethan wears that same fond smile on his face. 

Outside of Chad, you never had a guy best friend. Unfortunately since getting into college, you haven’t seen much of him since he’s so well liked and has developed such a large circle of friends. 

So Ethan’s a breath of fresh air. 

You relish the ability to talk without fear of judgment or being belittled for the things you pluck joy from or how forgetful and absentminded you can be sometimes. 

Ethan has not made fun of you once for misremembering a word or your tendency to get lost around campus. Instead, he escorted you to class and promised to be with you more often so it doesn’t happen. He also agreed with you that it’s not your fault because every building looks the same, which everyone in your friend group laughed at you for mentioning before.

Mindy leaps from the bed, exclaiming, "Come on, Ethan? Shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s so shy and dorky." She lets out a humorless laugh. "Maybe he went all 'if I can’t have you, no one can' and decided to get rid of the competition…permanently."

Your eyes roll as she concludes her theory with a repeated stabbing motion towards her throat.  

"You’re ridiculous." You get back to gauging your reflection. As you adjust the pink bow in your hair, you add, "Ethan’s cool. And I can actually understand some of the stuff Professor Atkins says in class now thanks to him."

In the mirror, you watch a sullen Mindy fold her arms behind you. 

"I still don’t trust him." She flicks her hands skyward and exhales in defeat. "But I can’t tell you who to hang out with."

You step away from the vanity to make your way to your pouting best friend. She accepts your hug, a deep scowl still etched on her face. 

"Let’s just drop it, okay?" you offer. "I hate arguing with you."

Mindy sighs against your shoulder.

"I’m just trying to keep you safe."

Leaning back, you squeeze her shoulders and smile. 

"I know, and I love you for it…but you gotta ease off him, Min." She groans at that, tossing herself back onto your bed with her arms spread. As she glowers at the ceiling, you maintain, "Ethan’s been an amazing friend to me."

More curses are grumbled under her breath. Shoulders slumping, you elect to give it a rest and stop trying to convince her. 

You know how stubborn Mindy can be. There will be no changing her mind tonight, or anytime soon. 

Casting the upsetting topic aside, you hop to the center of the room and spin in your cheerleader outfit.

"How do I look?"

"Like a fembot specifically designed to appeal to the male gaze," Mindy deadpans. 

You angle your head sideways. "Is that a good thing or bad thing?"

She chuckles and smiles at you before elaborating, "You look smoking hot, babe." The befuddled frown on your face vanishes, an elated grin supplanting it. Mindy returns to her reading and gives you a thumbs-up. "Break a leg."

Grimacing, you grab your pom-poms from underneath your bed and head for the door. 

"Hopefully not or Alana will kill me."

You’re on your way to meet up with your squad when you stumble upon Ethan in the hallway. As usual, he’s dressed simply in a blue button-up and dark slacks, damp locks of his curly mane kissing his forehead. 

He greets you in that bashful way he does while you beam at him, shaking your pom-poms. 

You jog in his direction with a bounce in each step.

"Ethan, hey!"

His gaze widens as it roams over you, pink dusting his cheeks. 

"Wow, you look…"

Placing a hand on your hip while the other lifts your pom-pom above your head, you adopt a cheerful pose. 

"Cute?" you suggest. 

Ethan’s throat ripples as he gapes at you. 

For a while, he only does that, stare at you open-mouthed. 

His face then turns an even brighter shade than before as he dips his head down momentarily. 

"Y-Yeah. Something like that," he stammers. 

His reaction drags an amused chortle out of you. You surmise it’s the first time you’ve addressed him in your full cheerleader getup and he must be somewhat taken aback. 

"I didn’t know you liked sports," you observe.

He shrugs.

"Not particularly but everyone is going and Chad’s my roommate." He points at the camera hanging from his neck. "I also kind of got roped into taking pictures for the school paper."

Some of the other cheerleaders wave at you as they’re running out to the field. The impatient clamor of the crowd already swells from the bleachers, loud enough to be heard even from the corridor. 

One of the girls from the squad, Lisa, stops as she catches sight of you and Ethan. A quiet conversation flows between the two of you, an inquiry swaying in her hopeful blue orbs. 

You give her an imperceptible nod and she smiles at you, quickly averting her gaze and striding away when Ethan glances from her to you with a look of utter confusion on his face. 

"What the hell was that about?" he asks, thick brows drawing together.

"About that…It’s good that I ran into you because there's something I meant to tell you, hm, more like ask you."

He inches closer, his eyes on you wide and alert. 

"Ask me what?"

A sliver of hesitation zips through you but you remember the promise you made just a few hours ago at cheer practice. 

You can’t back down. 

You swallow a lungful of nerve and reveal, "So…one of the girls in my squad sort of has a massive crush on you."

"Oh," he exhales, his shoulders sagging. His smile fades, understanding seeming to dawn on him. "You mean that girl I just saw?"

You nod and explain,  "Her name’s Lisa." He considers you blankly. You wave your hands in front of yourself. Words rush out of your mouth in an apprehensive string. "I know. I know. Trying to set up your friends is so cringe but she noticed you since the beginning of the year. The thing is she’s shy and doesn't know how to approach you. I promised her to ask you if you’d be interested in hanging out sometime." You twiddle your thumbs and mumble, "She’s super pretty and so nice, and she’s even into that same board game you told me about the other day…" You trail off, forehead creasing as you try to remember the name. 

Ethan tonelessly corrects you when you misspell the name of the game. 

You perk up and giggle, "Right. She just told me. I don't know how I forgot."

Ethan studies you long enough that it becomes unnerving and you start fidgeting under his sizzling focus. 

You grow nervous, wondering what he’s thinking. Usually, you wouldn’t meddle with anyone’s love life. But Ethan’s done so much for you. If possible, you want to do something for him too.

You just don’t know what you could do to thank him. 

Setting him up with someone from your squad seemed like a good idea, especially since you’re pretty sure Ethan’s single. You haven’t seen him hang around any other girl besides you. 

A heavy sigh drops from Ethan’s chest as his lips lift into a small half-smile. 

"The thing is, I already like someone," he confesses, patting his camera.

Your eyes bulge as a wave of embarrassment washes over you. 

"You do? I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize." You blink up at him in curiosity. "Who is she? Does she know?"

He chuckles. "She doesn’t know anything."

You approach him and squeeze his arm encouragingly. 

"Well you’re awesome so if she can’t see what’s right in front of her, you’re allowed to move on."

Ethan lets out another wry laugh. 

"If only it were that simple."

Your brows knit. "What do you mean?"

He runs his hand through his thick curls and exhales a long, weary breath. 

"She’s all I can think about. Literally." He pauses, his gaze corralling yours. "Every hour of every day, I think about her."

"Wow, that’s intense." You rub his forearm and send a sympathetic smile. "Sounds like it’s more than just a crush. Sounds like you’re in love with her."

"Yeah, I guess I am. Silly me, huh?"

"Don’t say that. I’m sure things will work out in the end. You deserve to be happy, Ethan."

His attention on you sharpens before a slow smile unfurls on his lips. 

"You know what? I think I do."

"Of course you do."

Your answer makes him smile wider. 

The moment is shattered when one of the players wedges himself between you and Ethan and steals an ephemeral, chaste kiss from you. 

The buff brunette quarterback flashes you a pearly grin.

"A kiss for good luck?" he says, winking at you.

"Uh, sure," you reply shyly, butterflies swarming your belly. 

He smiles at you one last time before jogging towards the stadium. 

"Who’s this guy?"

You blink, Ethan’s deep, blunt voice startling you. 

Pivoting back to him, you explain, "Oh. Tyler and I met at the boba shop the other day. It’s too early for anything serious but he’s cute and has been super nice to me."

It’s been pleasant to bask in some sense of normalcy again after what happened last month. You craved it. Tyler’s easygoing, fun to be around and he’s never pressured you to do anything once. 

Ethan’s jaw clenches as he scoffs, "Do you just go for every guy who buys you candy or gives you some half-assed compliment?"

Your mouth hangs open in shock. "Ethan? What do you mean?" 

He scrutinizes you for a few seconds before sighing and moving to walk away. 

"Nothing. Don’t worry about it."

The hand you wrap around his wrist stops him, Ethan halting in his tracks. You tug him back with a contrite pout, your concerned gaze rising to meet his. 

"I am going to worry about it. Ethan… Did I say something upsetting? I feel like maybe I did. I'm sorry about Lisa. I thought she'd be your type. She's everyone's type."

"Well, she isn't mine," he replies icily. 

Budding tears tickle the back of your eyes but you repress them. It’s not the time to weep. The game’s about to start. 

So you swallow them with ease, deciding you’ll give Ethan a proper apology later on. 

Instead you give a sunny smile and ask, "Are you coming to hang out with everyone after the game? We all decided to meet up for chili fries and beers whatever the outcome is."

Ethan’s eyes fall on your hand wrapped around his wrist. He shifts your grip so your small hand rests in his larger one. He studies your twined hands, rubbing his thumb against the back of yours. 

When he looks at you again, a glint dances in his chestnut orbs. 

"Thanks but I’m gonna be busy actually." He flashes you a broad grin. "I just remembered I have some trash I need to take out."

~