#am terrified to see what happens next week

[blackcorvette]

Own My Mind

Summary: 1986. Hawkins, Indiana. It’s not your fault that you’re pulled into the messy secrets and hidden world of your small town. It’s not your fault that two of your new acquaintances seem to be fond of you, and not of each other.

Warnings: Language. Stranger Things central violence. Spelling errors, grammar mistakes, and rushed writing. Eventual smut… (buckle in, it’s a long ride.) MDNI

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Hello again, welcome back to this humble little- whatever. Week five is here, and I just spent the weekend writing nonstop for this fic- there is much much more waiting for you guys in the future :) Special thanks to my bestie, @djosfavewig who will always be the first to know what happens, before it even does. Now, let’s read.

Currently Reading: Part Five

Masterlist

It starts with Nancy, she begins the story from where it starts. Retelling what you had learned from Steve and the kids, only this time with more attention to details that you hadn’t heard before, it’s only a summarized version, but it’s enough to give you a better idea- and enough for Victor to form his own view.

Then, when she finishes, you take over, from the point that you’ve been present. You tell Victor about Chrissy, letting Nancy speak about Fred, then you come back to tell him about Eddie running, how you found him. You tell him about searching for evidence, the school therapists office, then Max’s experience.

“When he attacks, our friend described it as a trance.” You recall what Eddie had said about what he had witnessed in the trailer, trying to remember what you had read from the papers as well. “Like a waking nightmare. What’s why we think he’s coming for her next. Does any of this, anything we’ve told you, sound like what happened to your family?”

“Victor?” Nancy prompts when he’s quiet too long. “I know this is hard-”

“You don’t know anything!” He yells and the echo of it rings, it continues in your mind even when it’s gone.

“You’re right.” You say, keeping your voice quiet, soft, trying to ease his nerves even as you struggle to maintain your own. “We don’t know. That’s why we’re here. To learn, to understand.”

“We need to know how you survived that night.” Robin says.

He lets out a laugh that sounds more terrifying than humorous. “Survived? Is that what you call this? Did I survive? No, I assure you, I am still very much in hell.”

When he speaks, he reminisces. Its slow, a memory coming to mind that’s not too far gone, one that he thinks of often, maybe even always. A soft smile forms on his lips, out of place with the scars, but whist full.

“I had been back from the war, some fourteen years. Her great uncle had died, leaving us a small fortune. Enough to buy a new home.” He says. “A new life. It was…a magnificent home. Alice said it looked like it was from a fairy tale.”

“Alice? Was this your daughter?” You ask him, hoping that he doesn’t take it as a hostile sign.

“Mhm, yeah.” He nods, and his smile falters as he continues, a happy memory tainted. “But Henry, my…my boy, he was a sensitive child. And I could see he felt something was wrong. We had one month of peace in that house. And then it began. Dead animals. Mutilated, tortured, began to appear near our home. Rabbits, squirrels, chickens, even dogs. The police chief blamed the attacks on a wildcat. This, this was no wild cat. This was an evil. And evil neither animal nor human. This was a spawn of Satan- A demon. And it was even closer than I realized.”

“My family began to have encounters, conjured by this demon. Nightmares. Walking, living nightmares.” The way he reuses your phrase, it solidifies your belief in him, in the evil you’ve become entangled with, the evil you are now attempting to fight. “This demon, it seemed to take pleasure in tormenting us. Even poor, innocent Alice. It wasn’t long before I began to have encounters of my own. I suppose, all evil must have a home. And though I had not a rational explanation for it, I…I could sense this demon. Always close. I became convinced it was hiding, nesting, somewhere within the shadows of our home. It had cursed our town. It had cursed our home. It had cursed us.”

He drops down onto his cot, defeated.

“It took Virginia first. I tried to get the children out- to save them. But…I was back to France. Back in the war. It was a memory, I had thought German soldiers were inside. I ordered its shelling. I was wrong. This demon, it was taunting me, and I was sure it would take me, just as he’d taken my Virginia. But then- I heard another voice.”

He removes his hands from where he had been covering his ears to shield himself from the dark parts of his memory. “At first, I believed it was an angel. And then I followed her. Only to find myself in a nightmare far worse. While I was away, the demon took my children. Henry slipped into a coma shortly after that. A week later he died.”

The crying starts, and it’s horrible, bad enough you have to tighten your fists and dig your nails into your already bruised palms.

“I tried to join them. I tried. Hatch stopped the bleeding. He wouldn’t let me join them!” He’s sobbing now, curled into his cot with his head against the striped pillow.

“The angel you followed…” You ask, though he might be too far gone. “Who was she?”

He doesn’t answer, confirming your suspicions by humming a song, rocking back and forth in the cot in a way that only the most broken man would. Nancy seems not to realize, attempting to try again, calling his name several times louder each- until the cell door at the end of the hall slams open and makes you all jump.

“Is he everything you hoped he would be?” Dr. Hatch yells down the tunnel, in a sinister voice that tells you he’s found out everything you tried to hide in order to get here. “I just had a very interesting conversation with Professor Brantley. Perhaps we should discuss it in my office, while we wait for the police.”

Security removes you, forcing the three of you out of the cell while Dr. Hatch yells, storming ahead to lead you back out of the cells and through the asylum.

Nancy begins to spill everything, about Eddie, Max, and every little detail that her mind can pull up and spit out- and if you weren’t in your own head trying to organize your plan to escape- you would be telling her to shut the fuck up.

They take you through the building and back into the listening room- where your eyes linger on the patients listening to music.

Debussy.

Etta James.

Elvis.

Brenda Lee.

Beethoven.

They shove you out of the room, Robin yells at the guard who had physically pushed her, and you follow quickly. As soon as you’re out of the doors, into the grounds of the inner courtyards and gardens, she pulls you and Nancy close.

“Victor said the night of the attack, everything went on in the house.” She whispers in a hurried manner, eyes darting up to make sure the guards and Hutch don’t hear. “But he made specific mention of music. He said music was playing- and then when we asked him about the Angel? He started to hum-‘Say nighty-night and kiss me, Hold me tight and tell me you miss me-‘”

“Dream a Little Dream of Me.” You remember the title of the song immediately, having listened to it growing up, the radio always on at home as a child. “Ella Fitzgerald.”

“Voice of an Angel.” Nancy says.

“Yeah.” Robin nods, glad that everyone follows her line of thought.

“Hatch said that music can reach parts of the brain that words can’t.” You say, walking briskly beside them, eyes scanning the grounds of the asylum, counting staff members and patients.

Robin nods again, her voice raising slightly, but not enough to alarm the guards. “So maybe that’s the key. A lifeline.”

“A lifeline back to reality.” Nancy mutters.

“It’s worth a shot.” Robin says.

Carefully, you look over your shoulder, at the guards. There are maybe two yards behind, they leave a gap large enough to take a few minutes to close if you run at the right time. They could get you, but only if they expect it and predict your movements beforehand.

“I think we can beat him.” You whisper.

“What?” Robin gives you a concerned look.

“To the car.” You say, ignoring the look Nancy shoots you.

“Okay, I’m warning you right now. I have terrible coordination.” Robin stresses. “Like, it took me six months longer to walk than all the other babies-”

“Just follow my lead.”

Before she can object, you sprint. You can hear her yelling, but she and Nancy fall right into step beside you- the guard quickly realizing and chasing behind them.

The grass is soft, but the ground beneath is firm enough to keep you from tripping. The patients watch with wide eyes, the staff slowly clueing in and rushing forward to catch you. But you run, as fast as you can, as far as you can and then further. Your sides burn, your lungs acting fast in the sudden burst of adrenaline- your heart doubling its natural rate, but you keep going until you’ve lost your shoes and run through the open gates.

The car is unlocked, and you silently thank God that Nancy hadn’t locked the doors before the meeting. The three of you climb in, and are almost immediately met with pounding fists on the windows. Nancy starts the car quickly, Robin yells, and you curse as you scramble for the radio that a familiar noise comes in and out. Static and Dustin’s frantic voice.

“Robin where the hell are you? This is a code red! I repeat, a code red!”

Finally finding it, you extend the antenna and press the button. “Dustin- It’s me. We copy.”

“Holy shit, finally!” His voice filters in immediately. “Please, please tell me you guys have this figured out.”

“What’s happening?” You have to yell over him, hoping he’d listen. “Dustin tell me what the hell is happening right now.”

“He’s got her- She’s- fuck.” The desperation in his voice hurts and you can’t do anything but talk. “What do we do? Tell me you found out something before-”

“Music.” You tell him.

“What? We need-”

“I can’t explain it now. Music, Dustin. Her favorite song, okay? Something that she loves that has meaning!” You speak as fast as you can, Robin yelling for Nancy to drive faster and your heart racing. “Just do it, okay! Her headphones. Get them and play a fucking song.”

“Okay.” He sounds stricken, and the line falls into static, a sign you hope means he’s doing what you hope will save her.

“Is she okay?” Robin asks frantically. “She has to be okay, right? The music? Fuck the music has to work- if it doesn’t-”

“It’ll work.” You tell her, louder than you meant to be but you can’t handle it, not while you have no clue what is happening or where they are. “It will work.”

It might take minutes, hours or maybe only seconds. All you know is that you can’t ease the tension in your body, you’re sitting up, knee bouncing, and staring out the window. Your hands are clutching the radio waiting for a signal. Nancy speeds away from the asylum, and eventually finds a rural road to start heading back home. Robin is chattering nervously, her hands tapping against her legs. None of you attempt to comfort each other, because there is no comfort to give.

Between the three of you, the car is overwhelmed with anxiety and anticipation. Not a single one of you knows that to do or say, and once Robin no longer has breath…It's silent.

The noise of the road is loud in your ears, mingling with the memory of Victor’s humming, the tune of his song stuck in your head like a spinning record, broken, repeating the same segment.

One, two, four clicks later- still no answer from Dustin. Not a single second of static from his end, not a yell, or a cry.

Nothing.

It will work. It has to work.

Even when Robin takes the radio, attempting to call for a response herself, you sit there waiting and listening. All you need is a voice. Dustin, Max, Steve. You need someone to tell you is she alright or is she…is she alright?

No answers. Not the first or the fifth time she tries. And then Nancy takes it, one hand on the wheel while the other holds the radio. No answers for her either.

Eventually, the radio is set on the dash, sitting in the sunlight as you speed down the road toward Hawkins. You count the street signs, watching the mile markers as you get closer. You're passing the sign reading eighteen miles to town, when the radio finally makes a sound.

Dustin’s voice comes in, quiet, no longer yelling for answers he doesn’t know exist. Robin is the one to pick it up, asks him what happened. And he tells her. She’s alright, she’s sleeping it off now in Steve’s car. They’re heading back to the wheelers.

She’s alright.

====

A loud sound wakes you. Your eyes open slowly, still blurry with sleep. It takes a moment to register that the sound is radio static and a familiar voice coming through.

Sitting up carefully, you make sure not to bump into Steve’s legs, where he’s curled in a seemingly uncomfortable way in an armchair, the same position he had been asleep in when you arrived last night. You search the floor for the radio, before realizing that it’s behind Dustin’s head on the TV stand. Reaching for the radio, you take it and carry it away from the others, who are still sleeping.

In your half asleep state, you press the button in the middle of Eddie trying to reach someone on the other end. “It’s way too early for this, Ed.”

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” His voice lightens when he finally receives an answer. “Um, I'm gonna need a food delivery. Like really soon, unless you want me going out into the world-”

“No, no, no. Don’t do that.” You rub your eyes and stifle a yawn. “Just stay where you are and we’ll be there as soon as we can, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He responds quickly, barely giving you time to finish. “Listen, um, can you pick me up a six-pack? I know it’s stupid as shit, drinking right now, but a cold beer would really calm my jangled nerves-”

Behind you, you hear the sound of Nancy arguing with somebody. “Hey, hold on. I’m gonna have to call you back-” Eddie starts to protest, but you set the radio aside and hurry back in time to see Nancy shaking Dustin awake. “What’s going on?”

She ignores you, speaking directly to a startled Dustin. “Aren’t you supposed to be on Max watch?”

“Yup, yup, yup- Sorry-”Dustin rubs his eyes, still not completely aware of the empty sofa you’re now staring at.

“Where is she?” She asks.

“She’s right there-” He freezes. “A second ago- I swear, I just dozed off for…an hour.”

“Hold on guys-” You try to reason with them, but before either can listen, they shoot up the basement steps to search for her. “Or don’t. That’s a choice too.”

A creaking behind you makes you turn, your eyes landing on a disgruntled Steve Harrington waking up and shifting in the too small armchair, untangling himself.

“That’s what all this noise is about?” He asks groggily, his voice deeper than normal and his eyes squinted as he grunts, stretching his arms. “Max went upstairs like, thirty minutes ago.”

“Alone?” You ask, dropping onto the now empty sofa and refraining from shutting your eyes, still tired.

“Mrs. Wheeler’s up there with her. Making breakfast.” He runs a hand through disheveled hair, somehow making it sit more perfectly than should be possible. “Are you…wearing new clothes?”

“Sleepover, remember?” You gesture lazily towards your discarded backpack. “I brought a few changes of clothes.”

He hums, his eyes lowering to his two days old shirt and the jeans he’d slept in. For a while you sit in silence, both of you still trying to wake up, or maybe just unsure of what to say. But it’s not unpleasant, rather, it’s the opposite.

When he looks up again, his eyes hold yours, and you find that he’s sharing the same feeling. It’s easy to tell that both of you are tired, and comfortable. Here, beside him, you feel at ease in a way you hadn’t in days. Maybe it’s the quiet slowness of the morning, or the fact that you’re alone, save for the sleeping bodies of Lucas and Robin. And for a while, you both embrace the stillness. But like most things, it only lasts so long.

It’s been over twenty four hours since you’ve decided to be upset with him. And in that time, you’ve lost reason to care about it anymore, there’s not an ounce of you that wants to be upset. It’s long faded- but you still feel a wave of something like relief when he brings it to light again.

“I don’t think it’s his fault.”

You ask, sitting up. “What?”

“Eddie. I don’t think he caused this.” He says, his voice kept low and his eyes not leaving yours, holding them captive without trying. “I don’t think that he killed Chrissy.”

“He didn’t.” You look down at your hands, unable to hold his gaze, whether or not you’re greatful to hear what he’s admitting.

He says your name, and it’s almost too much to hear him say it in this context. Your voices are little more than whispers, trying not to wake the others, but it’s like he says it through cupped hands- loud and demanding your attention.

He doesn’t get a chance to continue.

“We’ve got something.” Nancy comes down the steps first, interrupting with a stack of papers in her hand, Max and Dustin right behind. They quickly wake the others, nearly scaring the shit out of Lucas and making Robin yelp.

“What do you mean?” Steve stands, and Robin clumsily clears the coffee table she had been sleeping on, dazed from her sudden wake. “What have you got?”

Nancy and Max begin to pay out the papers, page by page. They connect lines, the scribbled marks coming together like a spider's web. They continue through each page, fitting broken images together until everything aligns.

“What’s this?” You trace your fingers over the lines, frowning at the distorted images. “A map?”

“Almost.” Max says, taking creased pages and beginning to fold them, red and black shapes being manipulated into something else. “I saw this during… At first I thought it was a random mess, like an upside down junkyard. Everything was disconnected and in ruins, torn apart and separated, but it’s not random, it’s all pieces of the same place.”

Steve leans closer, looking down at the pages as Lucas and Robin crowd around. “Where?”

Slowly, she starts to arrange the folded pieces, Nancy helping to match the lines and shapes together. At first, it looks like nothing, but it’s familiar to you. Then, before the image is fully formed, it clicks into place within your memory. You take in a sharp breath, startling the people around you. “The Creel house.”

“What-” Robin gasps, her eyes wide as Nancy lays the last piece, the stained glass door. “Shit.”

“That’s where we need to go next.” Max says, her eyes locked onto the image. “We need to go there and look for something, anything that could be useful. A clue to give us more time or-”

“A cure.” Lucas says, tapping the papers. “If we get there, we can look for a cure. Then you’ll be safe, Max. We can get you the hell away from all this shit, away from Vecna.”

“Lucas-” Dustin attempts to slow him down, but he ignores it.

“A cure.” He says again, sounding nearly distraught. “We can get her out of it, guys. Once she’s safe we can figure out how to take him down, but if this place can fix her-”

“Fix me?” Max cuts him off.

Lucas freezes, stumbling over his words when he tries to recover. “Not fix you. Fix this. If we can fix everything, then it’ll all be over. But a cure-”

“And what if there’s not a cure?” She asks, her voice raised enough that you take half a step back. “What if instead of a cure, I die? What if we find out that I’m going to end up like Victor? If that happens, you still have to defeat Vecna! You still have to figure out how to stop him, so that no one else dies.”

“Max-” Steve speaks to her gently, his hand hovering a few inches from her shoulder, careful.

“No, Steve.” She snaps her head up to him, and for the first time since you’ve met her, you see the pain in her eyes.

They’re red, her cheeks flushed with the same color, and tears threatening to fall. Her eyebrows are furrowed, anger and sadness showing straight through her face. Her voice begins to shake, her hands flexing as she tries to hold herself together. The headphones around her neck sit there as a reminder, of what she’s close to.

“We don’t know what will happen when we get there, but we have to go, okay?” She’s looking at him while she speaks, but she directs it towards everyone in the room. “He needs to hear it- because it’s true. If I die, you need to keep going. You can’t stop, got it? Find out how to kill him, because you fucking have to-”

Steve's hand settles on her shoulder just as the first tear falls, her face crumbling with it. He hushes her, pulling her into his chest and down into the armchair. You can’t see it, because he keeps her face shielded, but you know. You know that she’s crying, her breathing too shallow, even if she falls silent while she cries. She doesn’t sob, she doesn’t yell anymore, she just stays there- and it’s enough.

Nancy clears away the papers, Robin helps her and they step away to talk. Dustin slowly moves across the room when the radio starts to go off again with Eddie’s voice. And Lucas…Lucas doesn’t move. His attention is not once taken off of Max where she’s curled into Steve’s embrace. And you realize that you can’t move either.

For three days, you’ve been involved with them. You’ve only known them for that long, and yet it feels like you’ve always known them. Every problem, you feel you need to help solve. Their triumphs are yours, and their pain…you feel it, every little bit of it. And some moments it seems like everyone is on the same page, because they’re all fighting the same evil. But now, when you look at them, you see that they’re children.

Max, she’s only fourteen. She’s facing a fate worse that anything you can imagine, she’s forced to fear every second- whether she can spare them or not. And now, even while she’s crying, she’s fighting for herself and everyone else. She doesn't deserve it at all, and you wish you could stop it. You wish that you could take all the fear and pain from her, and save her from this monster and every other one that’s looming over.

But you can’t, not now, without knowing how to. And it tears you up, this girl you had met only days ago, that you can’t help her yet. That you don’t know how to, or if you’ll even be able to. It weighs on you, clouding your head with what ifs and wishes you can’t hope for. Things that you never hope to feel again, after everything is over. And it only worsens when you look at Steve.

Only a few years older, Steve is taking responsibility. You can see it in everything he does. He might complain, but he wouldn’t ever leave them when he’s needed. He would never let them be lost, even if it means he has to pretend to know the way. He’s here, holding Max as she cries, as if she’s his responsibility. Because to him, she is. To him, each of the kids, even Robin and Nancy, are under his watch. He doesn’t expect anything from them, and part of you thinks he wouldn’t accept it.

He’s strong, you know it. You see it in the way he talks to her, quietly, trying to sooth her. It’s evident in the way he acts without being asked, in the way he wants to do anything he can. And most of all, it’s in the way he’s able to comfort her while he looks as though he himself might break.

The way his eyes water is nearly impossible to notice. The way his hands tremble on her shoulders, as he rubs her back. The way he has to pause every few seconds to take a deep breath, to keep his voice from becoming unsteady, because he has to stay strong for her.

And it burns a hole in your chest, watching it all unfold, being witness to the unnoticed. But you can’t look away, you won’t, because when it ends, you will be here if they need you.

Because, you have to be.

[screams-of-the-damned84]

uhh lanyon are u sure that’s henry...

[asimplearchivist]

hrrhhhrrmrm...velmgarb...*indistinguishable gnawing noises*

[thenerdcommander]

We're less than a week away from moving day and not even finished packing or cleaning yet I'm so depressed and burnt out from doing Tasks and being anxious that I was barely able to warm a frozen pizza

[boobearymuch]

A Promise

Summary: You locked yourself away in the bedroom after getting home, and when Zayne called you over for dinner, you took the plate to go. At that point, perhaps someone braver than Zayne would have followed you and finally talked it out. Zayne sat alone and ate in silence instead. Tags: Zayne/Reader, gender-neutral, fluff, light angst Word Count: 1.4k read on ao3 | masterlist

Careful tapping filled the tense silence of your apartment—accompanied by your occasional stomping to the kitchen and back—as Zayne typed away at his laptop. It was getting dark out, and it was usually around this hour when patient forms and research articles blurred into an incoherent mess. The doctor looked up from his screen, blinking away the strain in his hazel eyes, before glancing around. “Love, have you seen my glasses?” You don’t respond. Instead, he hears your heavy footfall in the next room until the bedroom door abruptly swings open. Zayne glances at you, and you impatiently present him with the article he’s looking for. Except, you’re holding them by the lens. Zayne says nothing as he accepts the smudged glasses. 

“Have fun reading.” You mutter under your breath and stomp back to the bedroom. Zayne simply stares at the dirty glasses for a moment before sighing and shutting his laptop. You’re angry. Still angry. Have been since your hospital visit this afternoon. And Zayne isn’t sure how to approach you, so—like a coward—he busied himself with work to avoid your ire. He managed to convince himself you needed space, that you would pout and cross your arms for a bit, but ultimately come around to see his side of things. That never happened. You locked yourself away in the bedroom after getting home, and when Zayne called you over for dinner, you took the plate to go. At that point, perhaps someone braver than Zayne would have followed you and finally talked it out. Zayne sat alone and ate in silence instead. 

He pinched the bridge of his noise and inhaled deeply. Right. 

The bedroom door creaked as Zayne gently pushed it open to find you scrolling away on your phone. You were resting, at least, like he suggested you did. “Have you taken your vitamins yet? I can bring you a glass of water.” His soft gaze never left you. 

You didn’t even glance up from your phone. “Why? Gonna tell Jenna if I don’t?” Well, then, there was no avoiding it now. 

Zayne stepped further into the bedroom. “No, but it would make your doctor feel better if you did.” You did glance at him this time, albeit briefly, to glare. “We should talk about this.”

Your nostrils flared at the statement. “Oh, so now you want my opinion?” 

“I’ve always valued your opinion.” Zayne sat at the opposite end of the bed now, and you groaned as you turned away from him. He’s never seen you like this. At least, not with him. Knowing he was at the root of your anger weighed painfully on his chest. It hurt to breathe, even. “But when it comes to your health, I am always going to prioritize your well-being. No matter what.”

“You went behind my back, Zayne.” Your voice was low, spine facing him, but he hung on your every word. “You just went ahead and told my captain I’d be taking the week off before you even told me.”

“I…regret that.” Zayne clasped his hands together awkwardly, “I should have let you known first. Listened to you.” When you said nothing, he let out a small breath, “But I am not letting myself regret making you take the week off.”

At this, you finally sat up to whirl around and huff at him. “That wasn’t your choice to make. It was mine. My choice.”

Zayne met your heated gaze with an intensity of his own. “You walked into my office half-dead and bleeding—”

“I was not half-dead, it was a concussion!”

“Well, you scared me half to death. How could I, in good conscience, just let you return to work like that?” Your mouth opened, then closed. Did you have any idea how terrified he was? “When I saw you,” Zayne paused to swallow around nothing, “My first thought was, how many more times will I have to see you like that?” His brow furrowed, and those green eyes desperately darted to the bandage on your forehead.

“It’s part of the job.” Your voice held no bite to it. Instead, you watched him as closely as he watched you now, “You know that.”

“I know that.” He repeated, “I know.” His jaw clenched, and his voice came out smaller than he expected it to, “...And what if you don’t make it to the hospital next time?” You inhaled sharply and looked away now, head dropping to distract yourself with Zayne’s bedding. “You constantly throw yourself into harm’s way, again and again, with little regard to your heart condition. Can you blame me for taking matters into my own hands?” He watched the fabric of his comforter scrunch underneath his fist. 

You seemed considerably calmer now and managed a glance at him. “...I really worried you today, didn’t I?”

“I am always worried. More than I’d like to admit.” He added softly.

The moment hung in the air for several seconds. “You could have just told me that from the beginning, you know.” You mumbled—face burning—and Zayne finally looked up, “I know I tend to ignore your medical advice, but if I had known how you were really feeling, I would have listened to you. Anything to reassure you.”

Zayne knew that already. He knew, deep down, you might agree to taking time off. But his heart reacted before his mind did; he feared the worst. If only he were better at expressing himself, this entire conversation could have been avoided. Guilt sank his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

The bed dipped, and you were suddenly mere inches from him. He said nothing as you grabbed his hand and laid his palm flat against your clothes. Over your heart. “Do you feel that?” You whispered, eyes searching his. Zayne’s breath hitched in his throat; the gentle drum of your heart beat faster than usual, “It’s still beating, thanks to you.” Your fingers curled around his, and Zayne took the moment to ground himself. You were so warm, so alive. You were okay. “I will always make it home to you, Zayne,” Your other hand gently thumbed his cheek, “I promised my doctor I would, after all.” 

He averted his gaze, embarrassed, as a breathy chuckle left him. Zayne felt ridiculous. You were the one with a concussion, yet here you were comforting him. “Can you make another promise? To just me?”

You perked up, clearly in a better mood now, “Anything.”

He brought your hands together to clasp them in his larger ones, “Promise me,” Then he brought them to his lips, “you’ll remember I’m always here for you.”

The kiss he placed on your knuckles brought the first smile to your lips all day. “What a sap.” You murmured timidly, and averted your eyes from Zayne’s. But he didn’t relent; this was the closest you’ve both been since your argument began this afternoon. You had no idea how sorely he itched to be at your side, to be within arm’s reach of whatever you could possibly want or need. Now that the matter was settled, he had no intention of letting you slip away. 

“Rest now,” And he kissed your hands again just because he could, “I’ll grab your vitamins and make tea.” He reluctantly pulled away to do just that—and completely missed the impish glint in your eye. Before Zayne could fully stand, a swift pair of arms wrapped themselves around his neck and tugged. A grunt of surprise left him as he fell forward and braced himself just in time to avoid crushing you. Wide eyes met your twinkling gaze, and you had the audacity to laugh at his expression. “Your concussion—”

“Don’t leave me, Dr. Zayne!” You wailed dramatically, “The only vitamin I need right now is vitamin you.”

“Stop.” His ears burned hot with embarrassment before you even finished your sentence. You’ve used that line before, every time he offered you vitamins, in fact. He should’ve seen it coming, honestly.

“And why should I? You’re too easy to tease,” You laughed to yourself and brushed disheveled bangs out of his flustered eyes. Then your gaze softened, “Come here?”

Zayne hesitated. “I shouldn’t. You need to rest properly.” But your arms only tugged at his shoulders impatiently.

“I can’t rest properly unless you come closer.” Zayne sighed, but smiled down at you gently. You could read him like an open book by now, and something told Zayne this was more for his benefit than your own. 

“Just for a few minutes.” Zayne carefully lowered himself to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, arms instantly wrapping themselves around your waist, “And then you’re taking your vitamins.”

“Mhm…” Your own hands began their lazy circles across his back, one reaching up to slide into his raven hair, “I missed you, too, by the way.” He chuckled softly against your skin. 

Like an open book.

[sushis-wild-imagination]

Seventeen as dads part 2

Seventeen as Dads Part 1 Seventeen Masterlist

→Choi SeungCheol

“Appa, are you hurt?” Siah gets on Seungcheols back as your husband laid on the couch. He just groans in response.

He had gotten drunk the night before and had a horrible hangover happening.

“Don’t worry, I’ll treat you” Siah, the older child says and rushed to her room to bring out her doctors kit.

Cheol manages to open his eyes, but his head still throbbing.

Siah walks into the living room with a toy stethoscope around her little neck and a toy injection in the other hand.

Cheol sees his baby bringing all her doctor toys to him and chuckles. “Are you here to take care of me doctor?”

“I will fix you” she says. “Where does it hurt?”

A smiling cheol points to his forehead. “Here doctor”

She takes the toy injection in the other hand and directly puts it on his forehead. This makes seungcheol laugh. “Thank you doctor, you’re so nice”

→Yoon Jeonghan

“Catch it, catch it” Jeonghan pulls at the rod, with the fish flapping as soon as its out of water.

The fish accidentally slap your 4 year old son in the face. “It's slippery” he says trying his best to catch the fish. Everytime the fish is in his hands, the next second it slips out. You watch on the whole spectacle laughing.

After the boys are done catching 2 fish, your boys rushed to show you.

“Now we eat them” jeonghan says

Horror spread across the 4 year old boys face. He immediately starts whining as jeonghan laughs.

“We can’t eat them, theyre our friends!” The little one yells at his dad.

“Tell him!” He also yells at you to defend him as he cries.

“What do we eat then now? Aren’t you hungry?” Jeonghan asks him touching his sons belly.

“No!” The baby says with every conviction in him.

“What do we do with these fish?”

“Take them back home and raise them”

“They’re already dead”

This earns your husband a playful smack to his arm. “Don’t say that” as both of you try to stifle giggles.

→Hong Joshua

“Happy Birthday Dojoonie” your husband, Joshua, wishes his elder son who turned 6 today.

Little did he know, he had a Surprise waiting for him outside in the yard.

"We have a surprise waiting for you outside" you tell him and his little legs rush to take him to the front yard.

"No way" He screams in excitement.

It was a toy car that he could drive.

"Hey, Hey, mister, safe driving only" you say as he gets on the car.

He drives exactly like Joshua. You giggle at that. "He has the same driving face as you" you say to Joshua looking at your son driving away.

"I don't have a driving face" he defends.

"You do!" and you mimic the face he makes while he concentrates on driving.

"He's learning everything from me" Joshua exclaims.

"Im glad, you're a wonderful man Joshua"

"Thank you for saying that, darling" he says wrapping his hand around your torso while you look at your son not braking in time and crashing.

"And thats a crash" you say and both of you rush to him to do damage control.

→Wen JunHui

"It won't hurt, I promise"

Your son is wailing and hiccuping through his sobs, he is terrified of his tooth falling. It's his first milk tooth and that tooth has been dangling for 2 weeks now.

He has a birthday party to attend and he wants to eat everything and anything but the tooth won't let him. So Jun came up with a solid idea of pulling it out himself. As much as I am against it, you kid really wants it taken out but is also scared of it.

"See, we're going to tie this tooth to this floss and the other end to the door handle okay? then you can push the door shut when you're ready, the tooth will fall out" your husband calmly explains.

The boy looks terrified.

"It won't hurt, promise" he says.

Your son holds your hand tight as Jun ties the floss to the door.

"3" his grip on your hand tightens.

"2" his jaw clenches.

"1"

your son kicks the door and the tooth comes out in one swift motion. Your son is ecstatic as he rushed to your side to hug you.

"I did it mama"

"You did, my sweet boy, now you can eat all the hard candies you want at Dojoon's birthday!" you say and he smiles at you front tooth missing, You giggle at his missing tooth.

"What about daddy, I did all the heavy lifting" Jun sulks.

→Kwon Hoshi

Your son jiho has been climbing everything he can reach, he's at that age where his feet are faster than his body. This time he was climbing the kitchen counter making steps out of the drawers. Its dangerous.

"soonyoung, he's been climbing everything, we need to change in child safety on the drawers, it's all broken now"

"I'll get them on the way back from work tomorrow"

Soonyoung sits in front of Jiho with a tiger soft toy, Jiho's favourite.

Soonyoung pretends to voice the tiger and starts talking to jiho.

"Jiho, its me, your favourite tiger, your dad can't hear us"

This snaps Jiho's attention to the tiger. He smiles at the tiger and says the cutest hi.

"Your dad told me you've been climbing chairs and drawers, you shouldn't do that, it is dangerous"

"dangers?"

"yes, dangerous, you could fall and give yourself a ouchie then the doctor will give you an injection"

"no injection"

"You shouldn't climb"

"I'll go now" soonyoung says to jiho in the tiger voice.

"Tiger told me not to climb" he tells his dad immediately.

"It speaks?"

"Only I can hear him, he's my best friend that's why"

"Is that so?"

"Yes"

→Jeon Wonwoo

"Daddy its torn, its torn" your 4 year old comes to you and your husband in the living room talking about his day.

"What's torn honey?" you ask looking down at her. Your daughter holds up Ms. Kiki.

Your sweet sweet baby girl, Min ju, had this one teddy bear she carried around everywhere. Ms. Kiki. It was her emotional support soft toy. She'd bring it to trips, to restaurants and even to the doctors, where she needed it the most.

"Ms. Kiki" she was bawling her eyes out. Wonwoo takes her in his lap. You inspect the tear, it was just a tear on the stitch, a few hand stitches should do the trick.

"Can I do it after I come back?" you had to head out to a meeting in some time.

she starts to whine a little again.

"Daddy will do it" wonwoo chimes and she becomes happy again.

"Ill fetch you the sewing kit, just stitch it here," you tell him showing him where.

The father daughter duo sit side by side, as Minju waits for her dad to sew it slowly.

he pricks himself with the needle the first try and hisses.

"Does it hurt daddy?" Min ju asks.

"Not it doesn't its a pinch" he says and continues sewing while you change into your work clothes.

"After 5 minutes he was done. "Tada!" wonwoo holds up the bear to minju, she was ecstatic.

You were ready to go and stopped by wonwoo to see what he did, and he did a pretty good job.

"Good job!" you praise him.

"Daddy is the bear doctor"

"Bear doctor sounds like a great title"

→Lee Jihoon

You had come to visit Woozi's studio with your 3 year old Daughter Jia, Jihoon wanted to show her his new studio with a lot of lights, he thought the baby would enjoy it.

The light projecting stars and colourful galaxies, he called it the universe factory. Quite a cute name. He was the hottest looking man when he was in his studio focusing and working. One of the reasons you fell for him.

"So? How do you like it?" he asks.

"It looks beautiful, it's so pretty" looking up in wonder.

Your baby, Jia also is looking up adoring the roof and pointing to the stars she sees.

"Stars!"

"So pretty" your child mumbles.

Your daughter now was in his lap, pushing all buttons possible and some beats and sound start to come out of the speakers. Almost like she was making music herself.

"She seems like a natural" he says to her and takes her off the keys before she deletes important files.

"A few years, she'll come for your job Mr. producer"

→Lee Dokyeom

"It's mommy birthday so we're going to bake a cake, but you have to promise me princess you're not going to eat the cake before that" Dokyeom sternly but the 2 year old babbling baby only looks up to see her boba eyes staring at him.

"You're too cute to scold" he says and starts making the cake.

Midway through the icing, Dokyeom was too focus on making the icing, he didn't realise the other side of the icing on the cake was getting eaten, little by little.

Your daughter's little fingers had swiped away at the icing one by one making a big icing mine in the cake. The back of the cake was eaten and ruined, but Dokyeom could not get angry at her. She looked too cute with icing all over her face.

"Here's a strawberry" Dokyeom tells her and hands her a strawberry to eat while he tries to save the cake.

"Finally done, you think mom would like it?" Dokyeom holds the cake to his toddler. "mmh" she hums to the strawberry she had in hand.

You had just returned from a long day of work, all you wanted was to cuddle your two main babies and go to sleep.

You come back to a dark living room and a startling noise.

"Surprise! Happy Birthday Baby!" Dokyeom says with your precious daughter in his arms and a strawberry cake.

"What's with the cake?" you ask looking up at him, then realising your little princess probably ate while making it.

Her hands held a half eaten strawberry as you take her from your husband and shower her with kisses.

"What about me!" Dokyeom sulks and you shower him with kisses too.

"Best Birthday ever"

→Kim Mingyu

Bora haas been wanting a make up set like you have for ages. Mingyu promised to get her a kids make up set on the way back from work today, and he did.

Bora was so excited she started to jump around the living room.

It was a cute toy, with a mirror and brushes and everything. You just hoped it's goes okay on her skin and doesn't damage it.

"Thank you! Thank you!" her little frame hugs Mingyu.

She opens the kit and gets everything out.

"Appa, do you want to be the first customer of my salon?" she says.

He pretends to be a customer. "Hello, I would like a make over please" he says in a fake customer voice that makes your daughter giggle.

She happily obliges and puts this towel in his collar for his shirt. Quite thoughtful.

Bora roughly brushes over his face with some powder from the kit, being careful with it ends up going into mingyu's mouth and he blows raspberries to get it out.

"What kind of a salon is this?" he says giggling. Bora only laughs.

She finishes her masterpiece with a lipstick on her dad's face. a little over drawn but cute nevertheless.

"Tada!" she says as she holds up the mirror to his face.

"Do you feel beautiful daddy?"

"I feel so beautiful baby" he says and Bora runs to her room to bring one of her play wigs to put on her dad's head.

It was a golden bright wig with pigtails to complete the look.

You sneakily take a picture on your phone as you laugh.

Bora laughs too. "Daddy you look like a clown"

This comment makes you laugh even more coming from your daughter.

"Let's go mommy next!" Mingyu suggests with playful evil eyes and you almost run away before mingyu could catch you.

→Xu Minghao

"Daddy, it's tea time, cmon! cmon!" your younger daughter grabs your husbands hand and drags him to her room.

"Why am I not invited?" you pout.

"it's only for daddy"

She's seen Minghao do his tea ceremony often. He stopped a while before, but once your daughter was born, Minghao and your daughter started play dates where they would pretend to drink tea, you found it cute.

"How is daycare?"

"No one likes to play tea party" she complains as you watch this interaction.

The little girl pours the 'tea' its just water, into the her father's cup and her cup.

"Why?"

"I'm not sure, but I have you to play with me"

"You do, I'll play tea party with you all day" Minghao says picking up the cup and putting it to his lips.

"Appa, stick your little finger out, like this" she says and demonstrates.

"Ah yes, how can I forget" he says and does as told.

Your daughter really had him wrapped around her little finger. It was adorable to watch.

→Boo Seungkwan

"Stand here and shoot" seungkwan tells your 7 yer old son.

You were at the basketball court where seungkwan was teaching your son, Channie.

"Shoot, don't get on your toes" he yells at him from the sideline.

He finally makes a score and you cheer. Seungkwan looks very satisfied with himself.

"Let's do a mother son vs dad" you suggest and run into the court to start a match.

"Oh its on"

You jump on seungkwans back while his guard is down and, it becomes difficult for him to steal the ball from Chan and Chan scores. You put both your hands up in the air in celebration.

"Your dad's not that great at this after all" you say sassily to your husband kissing his cheek from the back.

"we'll see, we'll see, get off me! no cheating this time" he warns with a playful smile.

"We'll try"

This time you decide to take both his hands in yours and literally pull him away from the court while your son attempts to score. He misses twice and Seungkwan pretends to escape to save the ball.

Chan finally scores and seungkwan doesn't let your hand go though.

"We won!" you exclaim in your husbands face.

"Come here sneaky" he says wrapping his hands around your waist, not letting you go.

"You're not going to score this time" he says and throws you over his shoulder and grabs your son by the torso holding him with his arm.

It was all laughs and giggles.

→Choi Vernon

"AAH" you hear a shriek coming from the living room. It was your husband Vernon, running to the bedroom to you.

"There's a bug on the wall, bug on the wall"

You can deal with smaller bugs, so you walk out confidently, assuming it's a smaller bug, but it was indeed a big bug.

Your 4 year old Derek, had come out of his room hearing the shriek.

"It's a bug?" he asks, while you hold a container to catch the bug and Vernon hiding behind you, neither of you taking any action to actually catch the bug.

"Derek will catch it for you" your son says in third person and bravely goes to the bug, climbing the couch to for his little hands to get to it.

"Are you sure he's my son?"

"What do you mean? Of course he's your son!" you exclaim.

You see Derek picking up the bug by its wings and asking you to stretch the container, you outstretch your hand with the container as far as you could. The bug really gave you the ice and made your body shudder.

"Done! Here's your new home bug!" Your 4 year old talks to the bug that's now in the container.

You and Vernon share a look.

"Aw my baby, protects me from bugs" you pat Dereks back.

"That was nothing" he boasts, trying to impress his mom.

Lee Chan

"What do you think?" you husband, Chan, had just shared with you the most evil plan to prank your daughter. He wanted you in on it.

"She's going to cry" you warn him.

"It's a prank, we'll teach her to be a good sport" he justifies.

"You father daughter do what you want" you let it go. You eerily sound like what your mom used to say and that makes you chuckle internally.

"Okay, I'm gonna go hide it all"

The living room was a mess with all of Yu Na toys as she played in the living room.

"Yu Na" her father appears from the bedroom, "I have to tell you something"

Yu Na thinks its batch time and start whining, she hates bath time.

"It's something else" Chan clears and she calms down.

"Appa was hungry, so Appa ate something that was Yu Na's" he starts.

"My chocolate cake?" she asks in her little voice.

"There's chocolate cake in the fridge?" he looks surprised.

"Yeah, Uncle Dokyeom brought it yesterday"

"Ah, did he? I didn't eat that"

"What did you eat?"

"I ate all your halloween candy"

She looked like she was about to cry, her lips even turned downward. but what came out of her mouth was so precious.

"You were hungry?"

"Yes baby, I was"

"It's okay because you were hungry. You are supposed to eat when you're hungry and I love you so it's okay"

Chan and you were stunned to hear that. She hugs Chan and you give him a heartfelt look.

"This prank turned out wholesome" he says to you.

"Daddy didn't eat all your candies, we were just joking" you explain to your child.

"Just joking?"

"Yeah, we can have some after dinner" the little girl leapt in excitement and ran into the kitchen.

"We're raising the sweetest girl"

"All thanks to you, my love" he takes your hand and you smile at him.

____

I've been writing this ALL day, this is like 13 fics, I had so much fun though.

[helluvapoison]

Make Me Weak

˚✧₊⁎ The Vees ⁎⁺˳✧༚

warnings: violence

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Everything you are she should abhor– and would if it was anyone else— so she doesn’t pretend to understand how you weave into her life so easily. That time is instead spent wondering how the fuck she’s survived both her hellish lives without you

• Velvette always felt she was owed the praise and compliments she got. Receiving them from you was an entirely different type of high to ride. Your candied tone and sickeningly sweet words clung to her like smoke and had her itching for more

• You massage her hands so she has no choice but to surrender her phone, only then does she realize how cramped they’ve become. You sit in her workshop during Hell Week, sending a mellowing wave that relaxes her chaos in the form of a simple thumbs up. You make up for not being on the receiving end of her camera by setting up aesthetic dates for her to capture instead

• Velvette captures your chin, “You put up with a lotta my shit, Dollface. I’m not great at sharing credit, but I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“But I didn’t do anything?”

“You’re my muse, baby. Gimme the word and I can have you on a billboard tonight. Fuck Joanne, the raggetty bitch, I’ll bump her and have you up there for all of Hell to see!”

Your smile falters to a grimace, your eyes telling her what she already knows. Vel doesn’t get why you hate the limelight. This conversation always ends one way and if she hears you say one bad thing about yourself, she’ll tear out her hair. With a sigh, she tucks you back under her arm and kisses the crown of your head

“Fine. I didn’t wanna share you anyways.”

Your light laugh makes her smile again

˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Val does everything in his power not to allow you to witness one of his volatile moments. He has a very specific image of you in his mind and to a looser extent, you do too. You’re not prim or naive that you don’t know what he does, but his violent tendencies are something else to behold. You’re too sweet, too pure to completely join his world

• It’s never bothered him before, seeing that look on someone’s face. The one where their eyes go wide in horror because they know exactly what comes next but there’s no telling what would happen if the pedestal Val put you on crumbled because you saw him grabbing a whore by the neck and using them as an ashtray

• Truly, no indulgence he’s ever sampled has come close to taking the edge off him like one of your hugs. Softer than angel wings and more intoxicating than any elixir, you’re euphoria trapped in a sinner’s body

• “I almost feel bad for keeping you to myself,” Val purrs in your ear. He’s been laying underneath you for six minutes and already the shittiness of the day evaporated, “I could bottle and sell you. Make everyone in Hell as happy as I am.”

A nervous, bitter laugh escapes you

“You wouldn’t make much money, Val.”

“I would make millions, corazón” He argues seriously, though he has no intention of sharing you

˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• The irony is lost on him; someone as soft as you could bring him, an Overlord, to succumb. Below the surface, he’s more insecure than he lets on. He’s perfected the mask of a charming show host, developed it so well that it bleeds into his personality. So much so, that you make him glitch when he gets an inkling of self doubt. Your gentleness makes him weak and it terrifies him, fills him with the urge to push you away but your arms are so inviting that he lets himself be cradled by them. How could he do anything but?

• Rare are the days where he actually feels tired but those are the days he seeks out your affections. To him, you’re safe. You won’t judge him, you don’t pry for details, you’d never tell him to suck it up

• Vox lets himself sink into the couch beside you, tapping your thigh with a claw to invite you to come closer. You never fail to accept and deliver exactly what he needs. It’s bizarre how you know what he needs when he doesn’t himself. Turning to straddle him, you rest your head on his chest and hug him impossibly closer

• “You’re tense today,” You comment quietly, giving him a comforting squeeze.

“Come with me to set for once, you’ll find out why.”

Nuzzling into his chest as if trying to find his nonexistent heartbeat, you replied, “Nah. Sounds like too much of a hassle.”

“Exactly why I need you there.”

“Promise not to bring me on air like you’re always threatening to?”

A dry cackle escapes as he keeps his gaze towards the ceiling. Vox has this fanatical plan that you two could be the power couple of Hell, outranking Lucifer and Lilith (and lasting twice as long) if you would just sit at the same desk as him, deliver news and playful banter that would knock 666 News down a couple thousand pegs. You were worried someone wouldn’t want to see your face, you’d make his ratings plummet, you’d ruin everything he worked so hard to build. He hates when you spiral like that.

“No.” Vox mumbles honestly.

He’d prove you wrong like he’s done everyone else, one way or another

[vivwritesfics]

Better Than He Ever Was - MV1

This gif makes me feral - I am on my KNEES

Y/N is pregnant and Max is sweating

Related works: Mini Me Prodigy

When Y/N Verstappen found out she was pregnant with Fabian, Max was terrified. He was utterly, utterly terrified.

He played it well, cheering and happy smiles when Y/N showed him the pregnancy test. To everybody on the outside, he was the overjoyed father to be, talking about Y/N and their baby on the way any chance he got.

There were very few people who saw beneath the facade Max was putting on. The first was Christian Horner, who himself was like a father to Max. The next was Charles Leclerc, who was way too excited at rhe prospect of being an uncle that he forgot he wouldn't actually be related to the baby.

Both said the same thing: that Max should talk to Y/N about it.

But where was he to begin? How did he tell her, after seeing how happy she was, that he wasn't ready to have a baby.

When she started showing? Oh boy.

It was never something Y/N wanted to keep hidden. As soon as she had all the tests she had taken come back positive, she posted something to all of her social media's. Max did, too, playing his part well.

Y/N didn't wear baggy clothes to hide her bump; she showed it off with pride. At every single grand prix she'd be standing beside her husband, hand over her stomach and the press took pictures of them.

Most husbands, when their wife's baby bump began showing, would be over the moon. But when Y/N started showing, it just made Max more fearful.

Y/Ns very first proper indication of the was when they were discussing baby names.

Any moment she got, Y/N was writing down potential names. She had at least twenty of each.

"How do you like Felix?" Y/N asked him as they watched a movie together. Max had been sim racing all day; this was the first proper moment she'd had to spend with him. "Or Daniel?"

"Daniel can be the middle name if it's a boy," Max said as he fed her a Malteaser.

Y/N moved over to her list of girls names. "If it's a girl, I liked Mila. Thought Mila Verstappen had a really nice ring to it."

Max just hummed.

It was two weeks after that Y/N finally sat him down.

"What's going on with you?" She asked, her hand resting on her bump. That morning her snack of choice had been stroopwafels, and she'd accidentally finished the entire box (but who could blame her? They're addictive).

"What do you mean?" Asked Max as he lifted the box to see what he was inside. Nothing, empty. He made a mental note to buy more.

A terrible, horrible feeling settled in Y/Ns stomach. "Please, Maxie," she placed her hand over his, rubbing her thumb over his wrist. "Tell me what's going on. I'm begging you!"

Max let out a huff. He hated himself. "I love you," he said, which definitely wasn't concerning. "I love you so much and I know how excited you are to have our baby, but I don't know if I can do it."

Her heart was beating so loud she was sure Max could hear it. "Wha-what are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that I'm so fucking scared, Y/N. I'm terrified of being a dad. What if I raise our child like my dad raised me and the kid ends up like me? I'd never be able to forgive myself if that happened."

Oh. This wasn't a dire as Y/N thought it was. This was something she could deal with. "Come here," she said softly and tried to pull his chair closer. Max shuffled over. He let Y/N wrap her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Do you remember last summer, when we went on holiday with my sister and her kids? Do you remember how they loved you so much that they wouldn't leave you alone?"

They'd rented out a villa. Max and Y/N had just come back from their honeymoon when Y/N's sister had invited them away.

As soon as they had their things unpacked, the kids grabbed their uncle Max's hands and dragged him into the pool. "Let's race!" The oldest shouted. Max was more than happy to oblige. He raced them to the other side of the pool and back, letting them win, of course.

When Y/N and his sister started on lunch, Max was blowing up the inflatable pool toys and looking after the baby. He was a natural with all three of them. Y/N watched them out of the window as she buttered the bread and passed it to her sister. That was when she realised how wonderful of a father Max was going to be. That was when she realised she wanted to have his children.

By the end of the holiday, the children were obsessed with him. According to Y/N's sister they didn't stop talking about him until at least two weeks after the holiday.

Max nodded his head. At first he'd been secretly reluctant to entertain the kids. But he loved it, and he actually found it fun. Of course, it wouldn't be the same when it was his own child.

"You're going to be an amazing father, Max. You're so kind and caring and kids love you. Plus, you're aware of how shitty your dad was to you, you know what you have to differently," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "I'll be there with you every step of the way," Y/N whispered and kissed the top of her head.

Max was still terrified, but he was trying not to be. But Y/N saw him change. He really did become that cheering and happy father he was pretending to be at the start.

Aside from Formula One, Max's life became getting Y/N whatever she and the baby were craving. Stroopwafels, mostly.

They discussed names more when Max became more comfortable. He was a big fan of Nora. Nora Sophie Verstappen. It had a very nice ring to it, Max thought. Little baby Nora.

They'd struggled to settle on a name for a boy. After Max had suggested his mothers name for the baby's middle name, Y/N was afraid Jos' name was going to be thrown into the mix. Not after all of Max's fears and anxiety. They'd decided Hugo, Hugo Verstappen was to be his name.

If it was up to Y/N, Jos wouldn't be in the child's life. But, of course, it wasn't just up to her. It was a decision she and Max had to make together.

When they found out they were having a little boy, Y/N and Max were over the moon. They decorated the nursery, painting the walls to be like a Formula One track. The bottom third was all grass, the middle was the track and the rest was blue skies with fluffy clouds.

The track went all the way around the room, with little race cars painted onto the track. There was a little Red Bull with a 33 on it, and a little Ferrari with a 16. It was a friend who painted it for them, going into intricate details for the cars and garages.

And then Y/N went into labour.

All of those fears Max had managed to get past came flooding back. His wife was about to give birth to his little boy.

Max wasn't much help through the delivery. Actually, through most of it he wasn't allowed in the delivery room, since he was panicking too much.

He wasn't a Hugo. That was what Y/N and Max decided the moment he was born. He was a Fabian. Fabian Hugo Verstappen. He was the most gorgeous little boy in the world. That was all Max could think as he stared at him, cradles in his wife's arms.

His son. His boy.

"Welcome to the world, Fabian Hugo Verstappen."

[sweetbans29]

Child - PB

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Summary: HC of Paige as Mom (based on THIS request)

Warnings: none that I can think of :)

Word Count: 1.6k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: If it is not obvious, it is set in the future. I am thinking mid-20s for her.

Paige would be both terrified and ecstatic when the two of you bring home your little one for the first time. I mean, the girl would be working around the house nonstop for the weeks leading up to your due date and made sure everything was safe for you and your little one.

"Paige?" You ask, sleep evident in your voice. When you woke up in the middle of the night to find that you were alone (and had to pee) you got up. After using the restroom, you began your search for your other half. You checked all the normal places she would usually be when she couldn't sleep but had no luck. "Baby?" You ask heading into the nursery to find Paige struggling with the crib. The second you lay eyes on her, you can see the frustration radiating off of her. Paige doesn't hear you waddle in and lets out a groan. She had been trying to figure out this one side of your daughters crib for about 45 minutes now. She jumps when she feels hands on her shoulders. "Baby, come back to bed," you say lightly. "Need to finish this," Paige puffs and you know it's not true. You begin to rub her shoulders. "Please," you say Paige keeps working on the crib. "Baby, come back to bed," you say no longer requesting but demanding. "Gotta finish," Paige says. You stand there for a second and look at Paige clearly making no progress. Normally this would bug you but being so tired, you really just want to her back in bed with you. "Why do you need to finish tonight?" You ask your wife. Paige's hands finally settle as her shoulders slump. She turns so she is facing you now, her head resting on your little girls bump. "Everything needs to be perfect for her," Paige whispers. Your hands come to rest on her head as you smooth her hair over. "It will be," you say. "But you know what won't be perfect? You, if you don't come back to bed with me." Paige kisses your bump then make a move to stand. It was her way of saying you are right without having to say a word. You kiss her lips softly as you grab her hand and lead her back to your shared bed. Once you are comfortable again with Paige next to you, you are finally content. "Everything will be perfect because she has you as her mom. You may not think it is perfect, but it will be because you are you," you say as sleep overtakes you again. Paige inches closer to you and you inch away. "Too hot," you mutter practically asleep. Paige lets out a little laugh because of course you would go to find her in the middle of the night and force her back to bed only to not cuddle her. But she couldn't be mad, she could never be mad at you.

Paige would never want to leave Mia's side. Paige was always more than willing to be the one to change Mia or grab her from her naps. The two of them had become the best of friends.

You and Paige are on the couch when Mia begins to cry. Paige immediately shoots up and goes over to Mia and picks her up. "Shhhhh," she says softly. "I got you baby, Mommy's got you." You watch as Paige consoles your 3-month old baby girl and you can't help but smile. Paige rocks Mia as she begins to settle. You don't know how Paige did it but Mia loves her. Paige has the ability to calm Mia down every time as she knows exactly what she wants. Paige comes to sit down next to you with Mia in her arms. Mia's eyes are wide open as she is just looking up at Paige. "She loves you so much," you say as you watch Mia watch Paige. Paige leans in to rub her nose to Mia's which causes Mia to blink and smile. "She loves me because she takes after her mom, who I happen to know loves me more than anyone else," Paige says and your smile widens. "I don't know about that," you say teasing your wife. Her head shoots up to look at you. "What?" She says offended that you didn't immediately say that she was the person you loved most. Your eyes never leave Mia and Paige knows. "Fine, I guess I am okay with sharing you with Mia," Paige says dramatically. It is now your turn to look at Paige. "Let's be real, if it came down to it we would both choose Mia," you say. Paige kisses Mia's head. "Mommy's right, you have all of our love, don't you?" Paige says to Mia. "And that is never going to change baby."

Once Mia a toddler, Paige already has a basketball in her hands. That only increases as Mia continues to grow. It is when Mia is three when Paige starts taking her onto the court during games.

"Mia!" Hailey says as she comes over and crouches down in front of the little girl. Mia waddles over to Hailey with a smile. Hailey has a basketball in her hands that she put down to see Mia - Mia being Paige's daughter ignores Hailey and goes for the basketball. "Well, I tried," Hailey says letting Mia carry the ball. Paige laughs. "That's my girl," Paige says as Mia brings Paige the basketball. Mia has a giant smile on her face as she throws the ball at Paige. It wasn't uncommon for for Paige and Mia to pass a basketball back and forth. It was actually a very common occurrence in your home and if anyone asked you, you wouldn't be able to tell them who loved it more, Paige or Mia. Paige bounces the ball back to Mia who catches it and starts to walk around. "She's already got some handle," Hailey says. "Of course she does, do you know who her mother is?" Paige says proudly. Hailey answers with your name. "Hey!" Paige says pushing her teammate. Hailey laughs and Paige picks Mia up. "You take after me don't you?" Paige asks Mia and Mia nods without really know whats going on. Mia points to the hoop and Paige knows exactly what that means. Paige sets Mia down and holds her hands out for Mia to pass her the ball. Mia throws the ball to Paige and she drains the three. Mia claps and walks back over to her asking to be picked up. Paige picks her up and walks over to you on the sideline. The second Mia sees you, she has her arms stretched out for you. As much as Mia loves Paige, she also loves you. "Hi baby girl," you say as you take Mia back from Paige. "Did you have fun with mommy?" Mia nods and yells 'yes'. "Did mommy have fun?" You ask Paige as Paige kisses the top of your head. "She always does," Paige says as her arm snakes around your waist. "Great game mommy," you say to Paige. "Ehh, could have been better," Paige says and you roll your eyes. Paige had a solid double-double and shot above her average. It was a good game for her. "Whatever you say," you say. "Mia, you want to come with Mommy to the pressor?" Paige asks, knowing she has no idea what that means but knows it will be with her. Mia nods and you pass your little one back to Paige. "She is all yours," you say and Paige leans over to give you a quick peck. "We will see you soon, wave bye to mommy," Paige says and Mia waves at you. You smile at your family and wave back.

As your daughter grows up, Paige makes it a point to always spend time with her especially with how crazy her schedule can be with playing in the W. It doesn't matter how tired Paige may be, when she has time at home, she is spending it with you and Mia. You don't know how she does it.

You look at the clock and see that you have been without Paige for quite some time. When Paige was home at night, she always insisted on doing Mia's bedtime routine. You get up and go look for your wife. You walk into Mia's room to find Mia sleeping in Paige's arms as she is in the same sleeping pose as Paige. You can't help but smile and snap a photo of the two before coming over and grabbing Mia out of Paige's arms. Paige stirs just as you have Mia completely out of her arms. "Mmm, what's happening?" Paige asks, voice thick with sleep. "Don't worry babe," you say as you put a sleeping Mia down carefully. Paige is now standing and rubbing her eyes. She reaches out her hand for you which you gladly take. Leading Paige to your bedroom, she plops on the bed and you crawl up next to her. Paige snakes her arm around your waist as her head finds your shoulder. You and Paige would always fight over who got to be the little spoon and she often won the battle. You rub her back as you feel her sigh. "How you doing momma?" You ask her. "Mmm tired,' she says. "You have been doing it all," you tell her. "Our superstar." "Just want to be Paige," she mutters as a giggle escapes your lips. You kiss her head and whisper an 'I love you'. Paige mutters it back to you as the two of you fall asleep the same way you did while in college.

AN: Paige as mom is something else - she would be the literal best mom. That is just my opinion - it is giving me Stewie mom vibes, let me now what you think. And as always, thank you for your love and support 💙

[thebearer]

please please please need a part two of the fight blurb 😭 what happens next 😭😭😭

should i make it into a full fic omg?? maybe?? lol

but on the real, i think that he would have to take a leave from the restaurant, which truthfully, everyone needed. this is just what broke him. the one time he actually tries to deal with his shit and not just blow up, get embarrassed, try to make it up, and repeat the cycle with no real change. i mean, you took his babies? anchovy and teddy. you're not returning his calls. richie, fak, and sweeps are alternating wellness check watches because they're terrified he's going to hurt himself, especially after the way he spiraled when he found your wedding ring.

he knows where you're at. he managed to become technologically savvy all of a sudden and figured out how to see your location, that you shared with him when you first started dating. fak wouldn't let him take his car. richie had put him on a full blown "psych ward type shit" lockdown until he "got his shit together, cousin".

"richie said-"

"-richie's a fuckin' moron, give me my fucking keys, fak!"

"carmen," fak frowns. "i-i can't."

so carmen walked. he walked to sugar and pete's house. nearly an hour walk through chicago. smoking so much he felt sick.

pete answered the door, face falling as soon as he saw carmen.

"carm, h-hey, man-"

"-where is she?" carmen wasn't interested on any sort of small talk, tunnel visioned to get to you.

"uh, i-i don't-"

"-pete, i really don't want you to fuck with me right now, alright." carmen took a deep breath, throat burning with tears. "i need to see- i-i need to see her pete." he couldn't bring himself to even say your name.

a tiny meow came from behind pete, anchovy skippering towards carmen with bright eyes, tail raised. it made carmen's jaw clench, tears blurring his vision. he knew you had to be close by. looking at the time, you were probably feeding teddy, maybe putting her down for a nap. he should have been more considerate, came later in the day, carmen thought.

pete looked at the cat, down the hall, then back at carmen. "carm..." pete hesitated, gripping the door, letting it shut gently, shielding something behind him. "you know i can't."

"what the fuck? pete that's- just let me in." anger surged through carmen's chest, trying to swallow it down. all he'd been was angry. angry and sick and distraught, a never ending cycle for weeks, just amplified by your leaving.

"you want to get her back? quit actin' like a goddam baby." richie sneered one night, just days ago, when carmen was especially awful and mean. "quit actin' like this isn't your fuckin' fault. like you didn't do this to yourself. take some fuckin' accountability, grow the fuck up, and get your motherfuckin' shit together. and maybe-maybe you'll get your family back."

carmen turned, running a hand over his face, trying to calm himself. keep himself from crying, from screaming, from pushing pete down and running back there so he could see you himself- throw himself at your feet and beg for forgiveness.

"pete, please? please?" carmen's voice wobbled, breaking gently. "please l-let me talk to her. just let me- let me tell her i'm sorry. don't-"

"-carmen?" sugar's voice came from behind pete. her face dropped, different than pete's, her's was angry. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"why do you think i'm here, natalie? huh?-"

"-oh, you've got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here." natalie sneered, pulling the door open and stepping out. "pete, go inside."

"nat-"

"-i got it." natalie hissed, eyes narrowing at carmen. she waited until pete left, shaking her head at him. "you should be fucking ashamed-"

"-i am-"

"-mortified." sugar continued. "do you know what i came home to the other night? i came home to pete taking care of your baby because your wife came here sobbing- sobbing, because you screamed at her? what the fuck is wrong with you? huh?"

"i don't know." carmen's voice was tight, fighting a tremble. "i-i don't fuckin' know. i didn't- i-i didn't mean-" a tear fell, the final crack in his demeanor. carmen wasn't sure how he had tears left, how he could sob anymore. yet here he was, on his sister's porch, tears flowing again.

sugar didn't comfort him, didn't move, just watched him through glaring eyes. "please let me s-see her. let me se-ee teddy, sugar, don't-don't keep my kid from me-"

"-i'm not keeping your kid from you." sugar snapped. "i didn't take teddy away. you know who did? you. you did carmen."

carmen flinched, he knew it was true but it still stung. "i know you don't remember dad very well, but you're acting just like him." sugar sneered.

"and before you try and come up with an excuse-"

"-i-i'm not-"

"-i want you to know, that every day. every single fucking day, there's days i want to drink myself to sleep. that mj or maggie make me want to pull my hair out and scream, or pete does something that infuriates me, but you know what i don't do?" sugar stepped towards carmen, arms still crosses. "i don't yell at them, i don't drink myself incoherent, i don't fucking act like mom or dad because i know how that felt." sugar jabbed a finger in her chest, eyes holding carmen's gaze intensely.

"i know how that fucked me up, i know how it fucked them up, how it fucked you and mikey up too- how it fucked everything in our fucking life up!" natalie laughed humorlessly. "and the last thing, the very last thing i would want, is to do that to pete, to my kids, to anyone."

carmen felt sick and yet eerily calm all at once. his chest was tight, he was sure he couldn't breathe, but he couldn't stop listening. a damning realization- a shameful one.

"you need to make up your mind, right here, right now, before you see anyone else." natalie stepped back towards the door. "you need to decide if you're going to continue to be a selfish piece of shit, or if you're going to change. and i can tell you, change is uncomfortable- it's not easy. you have to fight for it every single day. but i would rather do that than not have my family."

she looked down at carmen, twisting the knob. "you decide that, then maybe- maybe you can see them." carmen flinched at the door slamming behind her, not moving from his place on the porch, head in his hands.

fak showed up nearly an hour later, wide eyed and rambling about "how the fuck did you just leave? i was playing ball buster and-and then you're gone-"

carmen ignores him, sliding into the car slowly. "carmen?"

"you uh," carmen's voice is hoarse, staring straight ahead. "you said that, uh, that richie's got.... got someone for me to talk to?"

fak blinks, nodding slowly. "the therapist? yeah-"

"-take me there." carmen looks over at sugar's house. he isn't sure if it's his imagination or not, but for a moment he swears he can see you, peeking through the blinds.

"a-are you ok?" fak is worried, a little rattled at the sudden change. especially since carmen had been so adamant about not seeing "your stupid fuckin' therapist, richie, clearly she's no fuckin' good because look at you! you're still fucked up!" carmen's enraged words from days ago.

"no," carmen admits, throat swelling with a growing lump. "but, uh, i-i wanna be." he admits quietly, looking over at fak. "i gotta get my shit together, fak. i-i gotta be better for them."

fak doesn't deny it, doesn't console him. just goes quiet with a nod, driving away. carmen watches sugar's house disappear in the rearview, his heart aching, breaking, but he knows natalie is right. he knows he'll be back once he's better, that he has to be better. for teddy. for you. for your family.

[nrdmssgs]

Kissing König on the forehead

Masterlist Kissing Ghost on the forehead Kissing Price on the forehead

TW: mentions of social anxiety

His life consists of you. Literally: you have become the measure of everything. There are no more 'Fridays' or 'Novembers' - there are days, weeks and months, until he sees you again. No more rooms in his house - there is a wall to which he pressed his back, giving you more space to pass by, when he first saw you. There is a stove where you burned your fingers, making his heart ache when he saw your tears for the first time. There is a window, by which he fell on his knees and frantically stroked and kissed your hands, after he heard your timid confession. Anything beautiful he witnessed, anything meaningful he heard or read, made sense, only when he thought, how would he share it with you.

König knows, It's too much, his eagerness to be by your side constantly, his hunger for your touch, his feelings - he is too much. And he is afraid, so terribly and utterly afraid, that one day you see it too and leave him. So he restrains himself, tries to be less vocal, clasps his hands around his elbows to not hug you every minute, he is around. König carefully plans every conversation, you two will have, when he is back from deployment. Sometimes these imaginary chats end good, other times - you yell at him, but what is even worse - you cry. Your tears, even ones, he imagines pain him so badly - he immediately takes out his phone and texts you.

"I am so sorry, Schatz."

He snaps back to reality only when he gets your worried answer. Of course, you get scared and want to know, what happened. So he has to come up with some excuse.

"I am sorry for not being right now with you. I know, it's evening back at home, and you are probably watching some show, and I remember, how you like cuddling, while doing it. I'm sorry for not being there."

König finally puts the phone away, hissing at himself for this episode.

When he finally returns, you refuse to wait for him at home and come straight to the station. He allows himself to squeeze you in his arms, but deep inside his head, König counts. "One-two-three-four-five-it's time to let her go, you can't just stand there and embarrass her with your tenderness in front of everyone. You are becoming too much once again."

You interrupt his inner tirade. "Let's go home, love."

An entrance door shuts behind his back, and he finally takes a deep breath in, feeling the familiar scents of your shared house. König hears some strange repeating noise, lowers his eyes and notices that you are immersed in the fight with a jamming zipper on your jacket. On the very next moment, he kneels before you, moves your hands away from the zipper and tries to figure it out himself. It takes him a while, because he is afraid to pull too hard, finally destroying the jacket. You look at him warmly and laugh softly. "König don't worry, I can handle it."

At that moment, zipper finally breaks. König frowns.

"You couldn't just mind your business, you idiot? Now she is going to finally see, how overwhelming you are, how you break everything, you care for, how you smother those, who you love. Is that what you wanted?" An angry voice inside his head shouts and silences everything around, including König himself. He doesn't feel his lips starting to tremble, forming some apologetic mumbling. He doesn't hear, when you try to reassure him.

So you take a quick step forward, and embrace him, pressing your lips against his forehead. Maybe that angry voice exists only in his head, but it's not the first time, you witness König tearing himself apart for no reason.

"You are overthinking again, love. But its going to be ok, I promise." Another kiss on his forehead.

"You are not overwhelming to be with, you are not annoying. No." By this time, you know all the terrifying things König's mind whispers and shouts to itself.

"No one is going to get tired and leave you. Especially not me." You kiss his closed eyes, not caring for remains of dark camouflage paint on his skin.

"You are overthinking, and it is ok, because it shows, that you really care. It's not your fault." You press your lips against his face, so that he not only hears, but also feels, what you are saying.

And that silents Königs anxiety and self-doubt. He suddenly feels tired, but endlessly loved. He finally comes back home, pulling you into a long and tight embrace, not counting seconds this time.

[lordprettyflackotara]

noise || hoody

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. remember when i talked about this hoody fic 509 years ago? yeah here it is. also yeS i am aware masky & hoody belong to marble hornets this is the only time im going to address this💀 we are in 2024 in this fandom WE KNOW. anyways enjoy !! <3

If there was anything you could’ve changed about your life, you had a particular decision in mind.

Being a desperate college student for cash, babysitting and dog walking wasn’t paying the off the debt you were accumulating.

You had scoured Craigslist, confident that there would be an odd job you’d be able to accomplish for quick cash.

Looking back you wish you had known quick cash wouldn’t come easy.

A posting offering $5k a week fell into your lap about a week later. The details seemed easy enough. The ability to clean an older mansion, whilst keeping the identities of the multiple infamous residents that resided there a secret seemed like a piece of cake.

What the posting didn’t list, was that the infamous residents were unhinged killers. Some of which you couldn’t even categorize as human.

It also didn’t list that your position would be residing in the mansion, permanently.

Being a maid in the Slenderman mansion was, in lack of better words: fucking terrifying.

The residents operated at odd hours. No matter what time you cleaned, you always received the displeasure of running into someone.

The longer you stayed, the longer paranoia began to settle in. Ben Drowned, the poster of the Craigslist ad, was a perv. You learned to stray away from electronic devices he could peep his head through. Jeff the killer, one of the most unhinged, had a short temper. He was one of the first ones to opt out of having his room cleaned by you, a decision you silently praised after walking by and seeing how filthy it was.

The next to opt out with a demonic creature named Eyeless Jack, one who specifically requested you stay out of his medical lab. Given all of the blood and goop you had mopped up at this point, a fear of being eaten led you to offering to clean it regardless. EJ knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it, given his ‘hobbies’ were the most gore filled of the mansions residents. It didn’t surprise him when you left the lab green, puking immediately in a bucket he had placed beside the door for you.

The other members whose names you were obligated to memorize, Jane, Clockwork, Jason the something maker, all were rarely home. You learned to steer clear of Jason’s workshop, the dolls he made often speaking to you as if they had souls. The only three other residents who lived in the mansion full time (minus its owner), were what you learned to be proxies. These proxies, two of them at least, seemed to be human just like you.

Ticci Toby’s mortality was still up in the air for you. He once had tripped and fallen after you had mopped the floors, landing on the marble face first. He got up like nothing happened, giggling to himself about ‘how wet you made the floor’. After observing him throw axes in the training room, you decided to steer clear of him.

Masky seemed to be the trio’s leader, his face consistently hidden behind a doll resembling mask. He avoided you like the plague, skipping the formalities and acting as if you didn’t exist. You never asked questions, not knowing how long anyone had truly been here. But Masky in particular seemed a bit older than everyone, when you accidentally stumbled upon him coming home late one night from a mission. His nose was trailing blood, his mask broken in half. You ensured to avoid eye contact, but extended a wet washcloth to him so he could attend to his nose.

After that your dynamic remained the same for the most part. Except when both of you occupied a room together, neither of you made an effort to beeline to the door.

Hoody was the last proxy, the one that made you more at ease than the others. Hoody had spoken a grand total of maybe ten words to you, introducing himself and Masky before dashing out of the back door. The only time you really saw him was when you cleaned his room, the man doing a poor job of pretending to read magazines while you cleaned. Other than that, you only caught glimpses of the proxies when they came home in the late hours of the night from missions.

Most of the time they were soaked in blood. In a couple of odd occasions you had to assist them in carrying one another up to Eyeless Jack’s medical lab. You couldn’t figure out why the proxies were here, two humans not seeming to fit in with the rest of misfits that resided here. You had no idea soon enough you’d be up close and personal.

Late night was when you preferred to clean, most of the killers away from the mansion and out hunting. The existence of the residents here only existed because of their dedication to keep their identities a secret. Night time was the perfect cover, for them and for you. You were leaning over the kitchen sink, scrubbing at a particular stubborn pot when you heard the back door open. You tried very hard not to stare, not wanting to gain unwanted attention.

You glanced up briefly, catching a glance of Toby’s and Masky’s familiar figures as they trudged upstairs. “He cost us that fucking mission, Slender’s gonna be so pissed off,” Masky growled, rounding the corner of the kitchen. Toby trailed behind him, an axe dripping blood slung over his shoulder. “Y-yeah, what w-w-was he thinking?!” Toby exclaimed, his stuttering something you had grown accustomed to. You noted Hoody’s absence, your eyebrows raising as you returned your gaze to the pot.

The sound of doors slamming echoed through out the other wise quiet mansion, the silence fulfilling you with some sort of ease. It didn’t take long for the final proxy to stumble into frame, his hand cupping his face. You weren’t forbidden from interacting with the mansions residents, your urge to help sweeping over you. Hoody was awkwardly stumbling, immediately leaning onto you for support as you helped him stay standing.

“I got it,” He huffed. His usual ski mask was half raised, the bottom half of his face revealed to you for the first time. His chin and upper lip had surprisingly clean cut facial hair, kept to a minimum. You guided him around the counter, helping him sit onto the kitchen counter by the sink. Hastily he shoved his yellow hood off of his head, yanking the ski mask off with it. You were surprised a normal human being stared back at you, a large gash sliced across his cheek.

“Jesus Christ,” You muttered. You grabbed a clean wash cloth, running it under cold water. “Didnt ask for your commentary doll,” Hoody said dryly. You swallowed, wringing out the excess water. You could’ve done what you did with Masky, handing him the washcloth and wishing him a silent farewell. But instead you didn’t. “Sorry,” You mumbled. You craved human contact, any kind of human contact. Brushing off your skirt you stepped in between his legs, leaning forward.

You were careful to avoid eye contact, focusing on dabbing the wound. Hoody silently winched under the feeling, inhaling through his teeth. As gently as you could you dabbed away the blood. “Do you want me to get EJ?” You asked. Hoody’s face was stone cold, from what you could see out of the corner of your eye anyways. “Dont bother, i’m sure he’s sick of patching us up all the time,” He grumbled. The wound didn’t look deep, just very long. Thankfully most of the blood was gone, the rest of his face covered in specs of dry blood (that you presumed to not be his) and dirt.

Turning on the sink you washed out the washcloth, the crimson paint drifting off down the drain with the water. You then returned to Hoody, wiping off his face. You weren’t sure what compelled you to be so compassionate, Hoody’s eyes fluttering shut. He took a deep breath, his shoulders seemingly relaxing. You were gentle of course, not wanting to piss the killer in front of you off. But even Hoody knew your action wasn’t callous.

Once you were done you awkwardly stepped aside, putting the rag in the sink. “You want a cig?” Hoody asked. He dug in his jeans, pulling out a beat up cigarette box. “Is this your way of showing gratitude?” You asked. The man in front of you smiled, extending you the box. “This right here is the only kind of buzz you’re getting around here doll,” He explained, allowing himself to half smile. You had never smoked a cigarette before, nor had you really planned on it. Not like it mattered now.

You put one to your lips like people did in movies, watching Hoody do the same. He pulled out a lighter, flicking it and igniting the end of his cigarette. You leaned forward, watching Hoody attempt to flick the lighter again. The flame refused to ignite, the sight of small sparks making him sigh. “Masky always takes the good lighters,” He muttered. He inhaled his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the right. You found the gesture of attempting to not violate you with smoke a little sweet.

“Well I appreciate the offer. I’ve never smoked a cigarette anyways,” You admit. Hoody shook his head. “That just won’t do then. Put it to your lips and stay still,” He ordered. You did as instructed, watching him lean closer to you. His fingers went under your chin, keeping your head held high. You felt your face beginning to burn, the end of his cigarette lighting yours as you inhaled. You both avoided each others gazes, until the second he began to back away.

For a brief moment you shared eye contact, searching each other’s eyes. For what? You didn’t know. You properly inhaled, coughing immediately. “You guys like this stuff?” You asked in between coughs, continuing to choke. Hoody nonchalantly took another drag of his, watching you struggle. “It’ll grow on you, trust me. I didn’t like it at first either,” He confessed. Once you regained strength in your lungs you properly stood up. Hoody remained seated on the kitchen counter, with you standing beside him.

“How long have you been here?” You asked curiously. You were stepping over a hundred boundaries, ones you could die for if you stepped over the line too far. “A while,” Hoody answered honestly. You took another drag of your cigarette, the taste of tobacco growing on you. “How long are you going to be here?” Hoody countered. You exhaled, glancing back at the proxy. He had exhaled through his nose, boldly making eye contact with you.

“A while.”

You found the courage to turn around, facing him fully. “You aren’t lonely?” You asked. Hoody gave you a smile, tossing the bud of his cigarette into the nearby trashcan. “I am, are you?” He asked curiously. You followed his lead, tossing the bud of the cigarette into the trashcan. If it set the kitchen on fire, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen. “Yeah I am,” You admit. Hoody slid off of the counter, his tall height towering over you.

“Do you uh, wanna change that?” He asked. For a killer who had a victims blood splattered across his face moments ago, he seemed so awkward. You wondered how long it had been since he had been with a woman. How long would it be before you could be with a man again? “Please,” You sighed. Hoody kissed you just as rough as you expected, both of you melting into the other. Both of you were undeniably needy, touch depraved and lonely. You were sure this was forbidden for both of you but as his tongue slid into your mouth, you just couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

“Call me Brian but only when it’s us, okay? Thats not who I am anymore but that’s who I want to be with you, okay?” Hoody asked. You nodded, the normal name bringing your comfort. Brian’s hand snaked down your waist, squeezing and kneading at the flesh of your ass. You whimpered into his mouth, the sound only making him harder. There was no telling how much longer you’d be around, the residents of the mansion unhinged enough to snap at any moment.

You couldn’t fully undress here and going upstairs was out of the question. “This has to be quick, we can’t get caught,” You whispered. Brian nodded, slipping his hand up your skirt. He rubbed against your wet cunt, your panties preventing any further stimulation. Brian had zero control over his life but he did right here, right now. You had no control over yours either, the decision to fuck each other to release steam the only free will decision either of you could make. You palmed him through his jeans, his cock practically busting through the fabric.

He guided you to the counter, grabbing the sides of your panties and yanking them down to your ankles. He shoved them into his pocket for what you thought to be safe temporary keeping. But Brian had other ideas.

“Fuck, please, wanna feel you Brian,” You whispered, trying hard to not groan loudly. Brian quickly undid his belt bringing his lips back to yours. It had been so long since he had kissed anyone, your soft lips driving him mad. It wasn’t long before his cock was at your entrance, awkwardly shuffling with his jeans at his ankles. He fell a bit backwards, causing you to laugh. “Fucking hell, sorry-” He began apologizing. You giggled, hopping off of the counter.

You brought him fully to the ground, pushing his back against the oven. “This might work better,” You replied, lowering yourself down onto his cock. Brian’s cock felt like heaven, your mouth falling open. Both of you let out a sigh of relief. You had no way to masturbate, no way to possibly release the stressful tension building inside of you. As you pressed your forehead against Brian’s, you realized that this was what you got. This was your outlet.

Brian’s gloved hands met your waist, helping you roll your hips. You let out a loud groan, one of his hands flying to your mouth. “Shh, you can’t make any noise,” Brian warned, your inability to stay composed only making him more hot and bothered. He took control, guiding your hips to ride him at a pace that worked for both of you. You were as wet as a virgin, your body yearning for more as Brian abused your g spot. Your sinful moans were muffled by his gloved hand, his other attempting to guide you.

He brought himself close to your ear. “If you wanna get off, you’re gonna have to ride me by yourself mkay? Do that and i’ll play with that pretty clit of yours doll,” He huffed, trying to control his own noises. You nodded yes profusely, trying to concentrate on grinding your hips against his. With his spare hand he found your clit, drawing sloppy circles around it. For a brief moment he was worried about his ‘skills’ not having slept with a woman in years. Whether he was good or bad at it, you didn’t appear to give a shit. You were still a panting mess, your hair sticking to your forehead from sweat.

Your walls clenched tighter around Brian as you felt yourself closer to euphoria, your eyes fluttering shut. With your forehead pressed to his you pawed at his hoodie, grabbing handfuls as your orgasm washed over you. Your sinful noises were muted by Brian’s hand, the muffled sounds music to his ears that he had made you feel that good. Your walls fluttering around him triggered his own orgasm, his cum flooding inside of you. He dropped his hand from your mouth, both of you taking a moment to breathe.

In a moment of true loneliness you leaned against Brian’s shoulder, ignoring the faint smell of dried blood and sweat. Unsurely Brian stroked your hair, trying to remember if that was comforting or not. He licked his dry lips, a bold question on the tip of his tongue.

“You wanna share a cigarette again tomorrow?”

[lavandulawrites]

Undeserving

Yandere Zhongli x reader

Zhongli is definitely a terrifying yandere.

Synopsis: Zhongli takes it upon himself to rid the world of those who sin

Masterlist

Warnings: explicit violence,torn limbs, kinda gory, Zhongli is very possessive, Zhongli is completely feral, reader is not directly involved with any of the violence

Word count: 2223

Zhongli had always seen himself as a reasonable man. Even before he had taken on the name Zhongli. He valued respect and honour. Zhongli had always held a fondness for contracts and their power. He often preferred to negotiate rather than fighting. It was more proper after all.

It was however in moments like this, his polished appearance faltered and revealed the beast within that had slain many.

His glowed fingers loosened his tie before he elegantly slipped off his leather gloves. He placed both his tie and his gloves on the mantle on the unlit fireplace. He slowly turned to face the sinner that sat on his newly bought antique armchair. Zhongli’s skin crawled at the sight of that vermin who had made himself extremely comfortable in his beloved chair.

The man whose name was Haoyu sipped on a cup of pipping hot tea. He showed no care for Zhongli’s possessions and handled the cup with much carelessness.

Zhongli clenched his fists behind his back. Though a dragon was only one of his many forms, his bloodlust was still ever present. His fanged teeth clenched together as he recalled the days he had used those teeth to tear out his enemies throats. No matter what kind of form Zhongli took, his golden reptile like eyes and his long sharp fangs was something he never managed to conceal.

He walked over to the chair which was opposite of Haoyu’s. His steps no different from a stalking predator. With elegance he sat down and crossed his legs. He leaned back in his chair as he picked up his own cup of tea. He inhaled the aroma and sighed him delight at the delicious smell. The tea hot and intense as it filled his throat.

“Do you have any ideas for your brother’s funeral? Or any specific wishes for the ceremony?” he asked the black haired man.

Haoyu rubbed his goatee while he drummed his fingers on the armrest. “I don’t have any specific wishes. I just want to have him buried as fast as possible. I am a busy man you see” his voice had the same pitch as that of an squealing pig.

“I see” Zhongli nodded. “As for payment, the director wants to know when you are able to pay” he continued with an almost bored voice.

“Soon. I just need to make sure my next business deal goes well. So maybe in a week or two. Two is more likely” the bearded man shrugged.

Zhongli’s golden eyes narrowed before he chuckled. “Director Hu Tao needs the payment before Friday, meaning in three days. I have told you so many times” his smiled forced. The director of the funeral parlour was a remarkable young woman. Her youthfulness made Zhongli almost feel young again and he enjoyed her company. He acted as her counsellor and a kind of guardian. Though the guardian part was something that had happened over time.

Zhongli’s appearance was youthful and he looked somewhere in his early to mid thirties. Despite that, his wisdom was greater than all of the elderly in the city combined. He knew that Hu Tao suspected that he wasn’t human, but he never addressed it.

“I don’t think I will be able to” the middle aged man shrugged. He sipped more of his tea and didn’t notice how he spilled some on his shirt.

The former geo archon’s eyes turned cold. His finger stabbing the inside of his palms. “You will have to find a way. We can’t propound the payment any longer.”

Haoyu sighed. “Don’t be so difficult! I’m sure you’ll be able to do something” he winked his goat like eyes at the brunette.

Zhongli felt offended at the ugliness that sat in front of him. “No. I am not able to ‘do something’” his voice monotone. If Zhongli wanted to, he would be able to convince Hu Tao to propound the payment, but he did not feel like doing so.

The man sneered. “Fine” he groaned like the pig he was. He downed the last of his tea and slammed it onto the newly polished mahogany table.

Zhongli’s eyes twitched at the blatantly rudeness. He took a deep breath before he rose to his feet. “I remember I told you about my collection of tableware. I should give you a tour before you leave” he smiled politely at the irritated man.

Haoyu’s frown quickly turned into a smile. “Oh I would love that” he stood up and stretched his limbs, nearly knocking down his teacup from the table.

Zhongli led him to the room where he kept his various collections. Rows upon rows of tea seats filled one of the long walls. Haoyu stopped in front of a delicate purple clay teapot. He lifted it up from its shelf and studied it closely.

Zhongli closed his eyes in annoyance, but continued to play the part of a good host. He showed him his various treasures and Haoyu was overjoyed by the different riches.

Zhongli followed Haoyu out to the hallway. “Before you leave, I want to ask you something” his voice polite.

Haoyu raised an eyebrow. “Alright. Go on.”

Zhongli ignore his rude tone yet again. “I have heard that you are good acquaintances with [Name]” his voice as calm as still water.

The man smirked at his words. “Yeah, you could say that… She’s quite the looker” he laughed. His fat fingers clasped together.

Zhongli reminded silent. He’s face similar to his many statues that were scattered over the country.

At the taller man’s silence, Haoyu raised his brow. “Why are you asking?”

Zhongli walked towards a painting of a bamboo forest. His back facing Haoyu. “I do not like it when people get their greedy hands on what’s mine. It angers me. And very much so” his voice had a sharp edge to it.

He turned slowly to face him. “You are a foul man. You lack both tact and elegance” his diamond shaped pupils small in disgust. He stalked towards him with slow steps.

Haoyu slumped his shoulders at Zhongli’s fury. He gulped loudly as his back hit the wall.

“You are not worthy of [Name’s] presence. She has told me countless times that she finds you revolting” his rage cold in his veins as he looked down at the man who had sinned the greatest sin of all. His cold golden gaze flickered down to the man’s hands. The very hands that had touched his beloved.

“I-I promise to never speak to her or touch her ever again!” Haoyu uttered as he slumped even further together. His legs were shaking in fear.

His stuttering a clear sign of his cowardice and Zhongli found it humorous how his brutish façade was just only that: a façade.

The adeptus’ entire body was filled with the want, need, to spill the blood of the man who had crossed him. He flex his hands along his side and felt the welcoming power of geo that flowed through his veins. He raised his hand in a quick motion as he wrapped it around Haoyu’s neck. He slammed his head against his wall, not caring about his expensive wallpaper.

“All sinners must pay for their sins. You are no different” he spat. Zhongli’s eyes glowed a golden hue which was the main telltale sign of his non-humanity.

Haoyu desperately tried to defend himself, but the strong hand that held his neck only tightened. The sound of his struggling breath was music to his ears.

“Be quiet” was all he said before he dropped the man.

The bearded man quickly crawled towards the front door before Zhongli brought his foot down and kicked him in his ribs. The sound of bones creaking brought a small smile to the former archon’s face.

Haoyu screamed as snoot and tears streamed down his disgusting face. He loudly prayed to be saved by Rex Lapis.

Zhongli scoffed before he brought his foot at the nap of Haoyu’s neck. He pressed down, earning a cry from the black haired man. “Take his name out of your filthy mouth” he sneered.

He manifested his spear and pointed it towards the man who laid in a kneeling position on the floor. The pointed tip, glittering in the light. His polearm had been his trusted companion throughout many years.

“Get up” his tone dominating.

Haoyu scrambled up to his legs and clutched his side in pain. His dark eyes looked up at Zhongli in fear.

Zhongli raised his spear before he brought it down to Haoyu’s left shoulder. The spear pierced his flesh and made contact with the bone. Red blood splattered on the hardwood floor. Haoyu screamed in pain.

“AGH! Fuck! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!” he screamed as he tried to stop the bleeding with his fat hand.

The brunette laughed at his pitiful cries. “No one will help you. They cannot hear you on the outside” his lips twisted up into a cruel smile. He had used adeptal arts to completely soundproof his home.

He stalked towards his prey and stopped right in front of him. His polished shoes soaking in blood. He sneered in disgust.

He rose his empty hand. His finger tips turned into claws which he used to slash through the neck of the sinner in front of him. Haoyu gurgled on his blood as he desperately clutched his throat. His eyes wet as they pleaded to the god in front of him.

Zhongli brought his bloodied hand before him. Torn skin was attached to his long black claws. He shook his hand and sent the skin flying towards Haoyu.

With a splat the skin landed on his forehead which resulted in him throwing up. Vomit spewed out from his mouth and the gaping hole in his throat. The sight was disgusting and Zhongli felt even more offended. The smell of vomit reached his strong nose and he crushed his inhuman sense of smell.

He reattached his claws and sat his spear neatly against the wall behind him. He crouched down to the dying man’s level. His godly eyes scanning his. “You brought this upon yourself” was all he said.

Long elegant fingers wrapped around Haoyu’s left arm. Zhongli waited till he was sure he was sure he paid attention. He then ripped his arm off with no effort. The tearing sound echoed in the hallway. Blood gushed from the open wound. It was going to be long before he died from blood loss. Zhongli tossed the arm away before he stood up.

“Stand” he commanded.

Haoyu struggled like a newborn fawn, but managed to stand. His appearance similar to that of a mangled corpse than a living human.

Zhongli brought his hand up to his chest. The power of geo poured out from his every pores and onto the man in front of him.

Slowly, but surely his chest turned into stone. Haoyu screamed as loudly as his damaged vocal cords let him. Zhongli was sure to be slow. It was important for him to feel the pain as long as he could.

His harsh eyes met the gaping hole in his throat. Tendons clearly visible. His vocal cords looked rather teared as well as his Adam’s apple which was completely damaged.

“You should apologise for your unkempt appearance” Zhongli had no humanity left in neither his voice nor eyes.

He reattached his hand. He made sure to make proper eye contact with Haoyu before he curled his hand into a fist. His fist drove into his face. Before he knew it, his fist had made a complete hole. Haoyu’s body fell limp against the floor. His face completely gone and replaced by a through hole. Brain matter covered the wall and stained his beautiful wallpaper.

Zhongli scoffed at the mess. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and willed his hands. Th white pure fabric quickly turned grimy.

He was yet again glad for the adeptal art he was the father off. With a snap of his finger the whole hallway was clean. The hardwood floors no longer coated in warm sticky blood and the wallpaper no longer stained. The body was turned into stone which quickly turned into sand.

He brought a broom and cleaned the sand up.

He would sprinkle the sand in the garden in Haoyu’s family house.

He sat down on his armchair and breathed out. He was content with his work. The only thing missing was you by his side. He picked up the contract he had written. He would encourage you to write your name on it. Then your fate would be sealed and he would finally be able to sleep peacefully with you by his side. With Haoyu and the others who had been close to you out of the picture, it was only the two of you.

Just as it should be.

He took a sip of the rich wine and let the the liquid swirl around in his mouth. A soft smile formed on his lips. He had had the adepti make a beautiful red wedding dress with gold embroidered into the silky fabric. You would make a beautiful bride and he would do everything in order to protect you. He would even take his role as an archon again if the situation called for it.

[mangionebabymama]

“six thirty” — Luigi Mangione

“Whatcha gonna do when I’m bored and I wanna play video games at 2 am? What if I need a friend? Will you ride ‘til the end?” - “six thirty” by Ariana Grande

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: LOTS of pining and yearning, sort of slow-burn online romance, but it's also platonic, maybe? This also contains some slight mentions of depression and loneliness; please proceed with caution.

A/N: Inspired by this ask from a while ago, where those particular lyrics of "six thirty" about playing video games at 2 am have always stuck with me. If you don't know this about me by now, I am a Cancer sun, and it shows. I am emotional, and I'm going to be an emotional writer. Please note that this is purely fictional, but these feelings are real.

The glow of Luigi’s monitor lit up the dim room, casting long shadows across the walls. It was 2 a.m., and the quiet hum of his computer was the only sound breaking the silence. He shifted in his chair, wincing slightly as the faded memories of his surgery still lingered in his movements. Recovery had been slow, and lately, he’d found himself retreating into the digital world more and more. The real world felt heavy, distant—like it wasn’t his anymore. Like he was watching his life happen from somewhere far away. His family and friends tried to reach out, but he’d been pulling away, retreating into himself.

His cursor hovered over his Steam library, scrolling aimlessly. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. Just something to fill the void. That’s when he noticed it—the little green dot next to your username. You were online. His heart gave a little leap, and before he could reconsider his decision, a notification appeared from you.

Can’t sleep either? Is it the insomnia again or were you hoping to see if I was up?

Luigi’s fingers flew over the keyboard for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the heaviness in his chest. He glanced at the clock on his desk— now 2:01 AM—and then back at the glowing screen of his monitor. The room was darkling, lit only by the soft blue light of his computer, and the hum of the fan inside the tower was the only sound accompanying his thoughts.

Pep: Both.

The reply came almost instantaneously, like a reflex, as if you’d been waiting for him. 

You: Figured. You’ve been on late a lot lately. Not that I’m complaining—company’s nice.

Luigi leaned back in his chair, letting out a slow breath. His back ached faintly, a dull reminder of the surgery he’d had months ago. The doctors had said he’d recover fully, but they hadn’t warned him about the mental toll it would take. The weeks spent in bed, staring at the ceiling, had given him too much time to think. And now, even though he was physically better, he couldn’t shake the weight that seemed to settle deeper into his chest every day.

Pep: Yeah, I guess I have. Sleeping’s been… hard.

You: Hard as in “can’t fall asleep” or hard as in “don’t want to”?

Luigi hesitated. You always seemed to know the right questions to ask, the questions that cut straight through the noise and got to the heart of things. He wasn’t sure if it was comforting or terrifying.

Pep: Both.

There was a pause before your next message appeared. 

You: You’ve been quiet lately. Not just tonight—like, in general. Even when we’re playing. You okay?

He stared at the words, his chest tightening. How does she always know? He wondered. You’d never met in person, never even seen each other’s faces, but somehow, you always seemed to see him. 

Pep: I don’t know. I guess… I’ve just been feeling kind of lost. I don’t even know how to explain it.

You: Try. 

Luigi let out a short, humorless laugh. Leave it to you to cut straight to the point. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the words.

Pep: It’s like… everything just feels heavy, you know? Like I’m just going through the motions. I’ve been distancing myself from everyone—my family, my friends—but I don’t even know why. I just… I can’t seem to connect with anything anymore. Except this. 

He added, gesturing to the screen even though you couldn’t see him. 

Talking to you. Playing games. It’s like the only time I feel… I don’t know, alive, I guess. 

The cursor blinked as he waited for your response, his heart beating a little faster than it should have.

After a moment, you wrote back. 

You: You’re not alone in that. I think a lot of people feel that way sometimes. Especially now, with everything going on in the world. It’s easy to get lost in your own head.

Pep: But it’s not just that. It’s like… I’m stuck. Like I’m just watching my life pass by, and I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t know how to fix it.

There was another pause, longer this time.

You: Have you talked to anyone about this? Like, really talked?

Luigi shook his head, though he knew you couldn’t see him. 

Pep: Not really. I don’t want to bother anyone with it. And I don’t even know what I’d say.

You: You’re not bothering me

And you don’t have to have all the answers. Sometimes, just saying it out loud helps.

Or typing it out, lol

He smiled faintly, a warmth spreading through his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Pep: Thanks. Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

You: Probably be even more of a mess

You joked about that last bit of your message, and he could almost hear the teasing tone in your voice as he let out a chuckle reading what you said. 

Pep: Ya, probably

There was a comfortable silence between you both, broken only by the soft sound of his keyboard as he typed some more.

What about you? Why are you up so late?

You: Couldn’t sleep either. Insomnia’s a bitch. Plus, I was kind of hoping you’d be on.

Luigi’s heart skipped a beat, and he had to remind himself to breathe.

Pep: Yeah?

You: Yeah. You make the nights better.

He felt his face heat up.

Pep: You make them better, too. 

Another pause preceded your following message.

You: You know, it’s okay to not be okay. And it’s okay to lean on people when you need to. You don’t have to go through this alone.

Luigi stared at the words, his throat tightening. He wasn’t sure if it was the late hour or the raw honesty of the conversation, but he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He typed, his fingers lingering uncertainly over the keys.

Pep: I don’t want to be a burden. 

You: You’re not a burden. 

If anything, you’re the opposite. You’re important to me, Luigi—more than you realize.

His breath caught in his throat, and he had to blink back the tears that threatened to fall. 

Pep: You’re important to me too.

His hands shook as he typed. 

More than I think I’ve ever admitted.

There was a long silence, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d said too much. Yet, your response showed up, and he felt a surge of adrenaline in his chest.

You: Maybe we should admit it more. To each other. To ourselves. Life’s too short to keep everything bottled up.

Luigi nodded, even though you couldn’t see him.

Pep: Yeah. Maybe we should.

He tilted back in his seat, caught in a strange sensation of relief intertwined with fragility. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but at last, he felt like he wasn’t alone.

You: You know…

Sometimes, I think about what it would be like to meet you in person.

Luigi felt a flutter in his heart once more. 

Pep: Yeah?

You: Yeah. I think it’d be… nice. To talk face-to-face. To really see you.

Pep: I think it’d be nice too.

You: Maybe, one day, we will

Pep: One day, for sure

The cursor blinked on the screen, expecting the next words to appear. For once, Luigi felt a spark of something he hadn’t felt in months: hope.

You: Until then, I’m here. 

Whenever you need me.

Luigi smiled, his chest swelling with gratitude. 

Pep: Same goes for you. Always.

The cursor blinked lazily on the screen, as if it, too, was holding on for Luigi to gather his courage. He sat in the dim glow of his monitor, the rest of the room swallowed by the darkness of the early hours. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, shaking, as if betraying the weight of the words he was about to type. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

Why now? He thought. Why does it feel like I can only tell the truth at 2 a.m. when the world is asleep?

But he knew the answer. It wasn’t the time that mattered. It was you. The way you listened without judgment and your words seemed to reach into the parts of him he’d locked away. You made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as broken as he thought.

He took a deep breath, his chest tightening as he started typing.

Pep: There’s something I’ve never told anyone.

He wrote away, his words appearing on the screen in a rush as if they were desperate to escape. He paused, his heart pounding in his ears. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to lay himself bare like this?

Just as he was about to second-guess himself, your reply appeared up.

You: You can tell me anything, Luigi. You know that.

He exhaled shakily, his fingers moving almost of their own accord.

Pep: It’s about why I’ve been so… distant lately. It’s not just the surgery. Not just the insomnia. It’s… I’ve always felt like I don’t belong. Like I’m on the outside looking in. Even with everybody in my life. I try to act like I’m okay, like I’m fine, but I’m not. I haven’t been for a long time.

He stopped, his chest heaving as if he’d just run a marathon. His eyes darted to the clock in the corner of the screen—2:04 AM. The world was still asleep, but he felt more awake than in months.

Your reply came quickly, longing for him to say those words all along. 

You: That’s a heavy burden to carry alone. You don’t have to, you know. You’re not as alone as you think you are.

Luigi’s lips trembled as he absorbed your words, a tight knot swirling in his throat. Deep down, he yearned to trust you, to hold on to the fragile hope that he wasn’t as solitary as he often felt. Yet, the weight of loneliness pressed heavily on him, an ever-present shadow that made believing in that hope a daunting challenge.

Pep: It’s not just that

He typed, his fingers moving faster now, as if they couldn’t keep up with the thoughts tumbling out of his head. 

I’ve been struggling 

with something else

Something I’ve never told anyone. Not even my closest friends.

The cursor blinked mockingly, sitting tight for him to continue. He swallowed hard, his stomach churning. This was it. The moment of truth. The moment he either let it all out or shut it away forever.

You: Take your time, Luigi. I’m here.

He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his courage. When he opened them, he started typing again, the words spilling out, his cup runneth over with transparency. 

Pep: I’ve always felt like I was different. Like there was something wrong with me. Something I couldn’t put into words. It’s not just the loneliness. It’s like… I’ve been searching for something my whole life, but I don’t know what it is. And it’s tearing me apart.

His hands trembled as he pressed the enter key, the letters materializing on the screen in sharp black and white. A rush of vulnerability washed over him, as if he had peeled away a layer of skin, revealing the raw, bleeding chaos lurking beneath. It was an eerie sensation, as though he was standing naked before an unseen audience, laid bare and utterly exposed.

His heart pounded as he waited for your reply, each second stretching into an eternity. When your message finally appeared, it was simple but profound.

You: Thank you for trusting me enough to share that. You’re not alone in feeling that way. A lot of people feel lost, like they’re searching for something they can’t quite name. It’s part of being human. But you don’t have to figure it all out right now. 

Just take it one step at a time, one day at a time.

Luigi’s breath caught in his throat as he read your words. It wasn’t judgment or pity that he saw in them. It was understanding. Compassion. And something else—something that made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Pep: I don’t know where to start

He confessed, his fingers shaking as he typed. 

I feel like I’m stuck in this… this loop. Like I’m just going through the motions, but I’m not really living. I don’t know how to break out of it.

Your response was prompt, as though you had anticipated him saying those words. 

You: Start by being honest with yourself. About what you want, what you need. It doesn’t have to be all at once. Just take small steps. And remember, you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. As much as you’ll let me be.

Luigi's vision swam before him as he absorbed your message, a lump rising stubbornly in his throat. He scrubbed at his eyes, fighting back the tide of emotions that surged within him—gratitude coursing through his veins, relief washing over him like a gentle wave, and a flutter of fear that danced just beneath the surface. Yet, amid this tumult, there was something else—a warm, comforting sensation enveloping him, as if he were being wrapped in a soft, reassuring hug that eased the weight on his shoulders.

Pep: I don’t know why you’re so kind to me.

He typed, his fingers moving slowly now as if each word carried the weight of his heart. 

I don’t feel like I deserve it.

You: You don’t have to earn kindness, Luigi. You deserve it just because you’re you. And you’re worth it. Don’t ever doubt that.

He stared at the screen, his breath hitching. Those words—those simple, powerful words—struck something deep inside him, something he’d buried long ago—a tiny spark of hope, flickering in the darkness.

Pep: I don’t know what to say. I just… Thank you. For being here. For listening. For… for seeing me.

You: Always, Luigi. Always.

He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt like he could breathe. Like the weight on his chest had shifted, just a little. It wasn’t gone, but it was bearable. And for now, that was enough.

Pep: There’s one more thing. Something I’ve never told anyone. Not even myself, really.

He paused, his fingers trembling. This was it. The moment of truth. The moment he either let it all out or shut it away forever.

You: You can tell me anything, Luigi. I’m here.

He closed his eyes, gathering his courage. When he opened them, he started typing again, the words spilling out in a raw, unfiltered stream.

Pep: I think… I think I’ve been searching for someone. Not just anyone, but… you. I don’t know how to explain it, but talking to you, it feels like… like I’ve finally found what I’ve been looking for. I know it sounds crazy, but—

Your reply interrupted him, cutting off his words before he could finish.

You: It’s not crazy, Luigi. I feel it, too.

His breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. He stared at the screen, his mind racing. Did you really mean it? Or was it just the late hour, the vulnerability of the moment, making you say things you might not normally say?

Pep: Do you really mean that?

As he typed, his fingers erratically tremored; he couldn’t keep up with the thoughts tumbling out of his head. 

Or is it just the insomnia talking?

You: I mean it, Luigi. I’ve felt it, too. This connection between us. It’s real. 

It’s always been real. 

Pep: I want it to be real.

You: Then let’s make it real. 

His pulse quickened. The compulsion hung in the air, heavy and loaded. He’d thought about it—more times than he could count. He’d imagined what it would be like to hear your voice, to see your face, to feel your presence beside him. But it felt like a dream, something just out of reach.

Pep: But there’s so much distance. And I… I don’t know if I’m ready for that. If I’m even capable of it. I know you’re real, and this is, but I want to feel it, too. 

The honesty in his words surprised him. He hadn’t meant to say so much, but something about the late hour, the quiet, you—it made it impossible to hold back.

You: I get it. I really do. But… what if we didn’t have to figure it all out right now? What if we just… let ourselves want it? Even if it’s just for tonight.

I mean… what if we stopped pretending like this isn’t something real? Like we’re just two strangers who happen to be online at the same time. Because we’re not. We’re more than that. 

And… I don’t want to hide it anymore.

Luigi gazed at the words, his chest constricting. He felt naked and vulnerable, yet also… relieved. It was as if someone had torn off a bandage he hadn’t known was there.

Pep: I don’t want to hide it, either. I do want this. I want you. Even if it’s just like this, for now. Even if it’s just words on a screen. It just feels so real to me.

You: Then let’s stop pretending. Let’s just… be. Together. Even if it’s just for tonight.

He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. He let out a slow breath, feeling the pressure ease slightly, now knowing that deep down, he understood what he wanted—he wanted you, and at long last, you were there, waiting for him. He was no longer alone. At this moment, going forward for however long the night would last, it would be just you and him—and only you and him. And it was going to be real. 

Then, slowly, he typed.

Pep: Okay. Let’s be together.

[mbsneur]

punishment

Lucy Bronze x Reader

Hello, lovely people! I hope you're all doing well. I just wanted to say that I'd love to hear your thoughts on this story, no matter what they are. I'm open to any requests you may have, too. I'm really curious to see how you react to this fic. My mind went crazy, I almost melted, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it! I want to know how it went for you.❤️ thanks!!

Summary: you did not behave and lucy punishes you

WC: 2,5

Warnings: Smut18+, rough sex, Dom!lucy, vibrator using, orgasm denial, punishments, reader is tied up,

My Masterlist

"Go to bed, undress you and put your arms behind your back now," Lucy orders you after you've had a team night organized for the new Chelsea team members to get to know each other.

You obviously didn't behave yourself, you teased Lucy, you danced with her friends, your dress often slipped over your ass

Your hands were all over her body, you were rubbing yourself on her lap and making hellish sounds.

You know you won't leave the bedroom today and won't be able to walk for a week.

Fuck

You know what will happen to you

Lucy always tries to be gentle with you and she always gives you what you want, but if you misbehave and act like a needy slut she will punish you, you knew it

your bedroom is cold the bed is freshly made the soft light is on you are standing naked in the middle of the room waiting for lucy you can hear the wind through the window and at every sound your body trembles you do not know what will happen next

The door opens, Lucy comes in with a blindfold and handcuffs, "Oh you're so pretty, too bad you misbehaved," she says as she closes the door, you look behind you, Lucy looks at you with the most devilish smile you have ever seen, "Hands behind your back," she whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You do as you're told and, with a little trembling, put your hands behind your back. She ties your wrists together. "Luce, loosen it up," you say, your voice painfully strained. "Shut up and take what I give you," she says, pulling your head back by your hair. You grunt slightly, your body falling slightly against hers. She puts the blindfold on you.

It was getting dark, and Lucy wanted to make sure you didn't see anything. Lucy grabbed your arm and laid you on your bed. Your chest rose and fell irregularly, but you tried to perceive as much as you could as Lucy made her way to your closet and rummaged around in it.

You've been wet all evening, and this scenario only intensified it. You were lying on your back when Lucy came back to you. Wouldn't it be nice to see her? She walked quietly across the floor, grinning down at you and staring at your full breasts. She licked her lips when she saw you so vulnerable.

you squeezed your thighs together to get any kind of friction your arousal spread all over your inner thigh, making you whimper all evening you waited for lucy's hands you wanted her to fuck you stupid it's your only solution

"you see you can be such a good girl when you want to be" she whispers and you flinch terrified she kisses your face your cheek your jaw she takes her time every touch from lucy you feel 100 times more than usual every touch makes you whimper and flinch

She kissed your neck and nibbled on it. You hear her wet lips against your sensitive pulse point. She sucks on it. You were sure you would see traces tomorrow. "Did you like it? Did you like it that all my friends see you like this?" she asks in a whisper before going back to your neck. "Did you like it? Did you like it that everyone was staring at you?" she adds and bites your neck. You squirm under her. "Oh, stop squirming I warn you!" she says and pulls you back.

"Luce, I'm yours, you know that," you say tearfully, "yet you put yourself on display for everyone to see, you need a lesson, you need to know that only I am allowed to see you like this," she says, and you whimper even more under her.

She kept kissing your upper body and pulling you closer to her. She spread lots of kisses on your collarbone, and you lifted your breast against her face. She kneed your hard nipples, which made you squeal with delight. She kissed every inch of your upper body.

"You'll never be this desperate for me again when others are around. I could see your wet pussy even though I wasn't even looking," she says with a playful smile. She takes your breasts in her hands and gives them a gentle squeeze. You can't help but breathe a little quicker under her hands. "Are you still this wet, baby?" she asks, her voice soft and warm. You just sigh and form words. "Use your words, pretty," she says, squeezing your breasts a little tighter. Your body arches in response.

"I'm so wet Luce," you blurt out, not just wet but dripping, Lucy puts her clothed knee between your legs and starts to laugh, "you're not even lying, you're really that wet," she smiles, "please fuck me Luce," you beg desperately.

She pushes her knee hard into your midsection, which makes you croaking and jumping, "Stop begging or you will get nothing, you will do what I tell you and I did not tell you to beg," Lucy says snappishly, pulling her knee back.

What she was looking for in the closet was a vibrator, she put it next to you, she kissed the inside of your breasts and spread hickeys.

"Will you be good for me and do what I say?" she asks playfully taking one of your nipples between her teeth "Mh yeah" you whimper and press yourself against her body feeling her breasts against your belly.

She took the vibrator in her hand and stroked it over your tense thigh, making you whimper and seek release.

her other hand pinches your nipples again and pulls on them you whimper she bites your neck and marks every free spot

Her soft hands caress your abdomen, the vibrator still on your thigh. You shudder with pleasure under her touch. She smiles against your skin and doesn't let go of your nipples for a second.

"Hold still now, don't move so much," she says between kisses on your neck, putting the vibrator aside to continue teasing you, you whimper as she teases your hole with her middle finger and takes your nipple in her mouth again.

Lucy wants you so much, but she can't give you what you need yet.

"It's really a shame that you behaved like that, I would love to give you what you want," she says moaning and pushing a finger into your tight hole.

You let out a deep, satisfied moan as Lucy's finger penetrates you. She kisses you deeply, her tongue sliding into your mouth. She sucks on your tongue and plays with it, sending shivers of pleasure through you.

she lets go of you, you take a deep breath your lips are now swollen. You are so desperate for more "i want you to take it all, every orgasm, i want to break you, i want to see you dumb fucked, i want you to beg me to stop, i want you to not be able to move after this night, you will only have me in your head." lucy says and your cheeks turn deep red your jaw drops and you scowl at her.

She takes her finger out of you and takes the vibrator in her hand. She puts it on the lowest setting and holds it directly against your swollen clitoris. "Ah fuck-" you moan. Your moans are breathless. You try to squirm. You try to loosen your hands.

Your hips are moving in time with the vibrations, and you're making those lovely little whimpers. Lucy's breathing is getting deeper, and she's nibbling on your skin, encouraging you to moan as much as you can.

She turns the vibrator up a notch, and your moans get louder. Lucy teases your nipples, and your legs start to shake. You have butterflies in your stomach, and you squint your eyes under the blindfold as you get closer. Your pussy tenses up, "Are you coming closer?" she asks playfully. "Oh, yes, babe" you reply, your moans becoming more passionate just before you could get any closer. She removes the vibrator from you.

You start to get tearful, your body shakes up and down, and you moan. You are desperate, my dear. You just want to come, "Luce, please." You say, and notice how wet your eyes get. "Stop begging, let me use you," Lucy croaks, and sets the vibrator to the highest level and holds it directly against you again.

You let out a scream and shake your body, kicking and screaming, trying to escape from the overwhelming sensation of "luce too much, fuck too much." You let out a cry, but Lucy ignores you, continuing to pleasure you with the vibrator.

Your vision blurs, your legs give out, and you try to close them, but Lucy is holding them up. Your back bends until it can't go on any more. You cry and stroke, "Lucy! Let me cum fuck! I have to cum!" You scream before you get your release. She lets go of you again.

"You wouldn't have such a brat if you didn't want to be punished, you know the rules," Lucy says, "I'll be good, I'll be your good girl, only yours," you say, whining and pushing against her.

"I need you so badly, Luce. Please let me come," you say with a pleading look in your eyes. Lucy laughs down at you, her finger moving back to your folds and running a finger through them, making you wince and grunt. "Oh, you're so wet, baby," she says, her voice soft and warm. Her finger spreads your wetness all over your pussy, and then circles your clit.

She circles your clit faster and makes you whimper, your hips twitch, and your breath quickens. "fuck," you moan as you feel your guts tighten and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your body trembled from the stimulation "Let me cum this time please" you begged as she made you moan and whimper before removing her hand completely.

she waits until your orgasm has subsided you are a crying mess she strokes your thighs and spreads your wetness on your chest before she sucks your neck again

Tears are running down your cheeks, it's too much, you can't take it anymore, you feel so fucked, even though you haven't even had an orgasm, "It's your fault for getting yourself into this situation," Lucy says snidely, wiping the tears from your cheek.

She takes the vibrator in her hand again and rubs it up and down your hips. Your legs are still shaking a little. She presses the vibrator against your hole and collects your wetness. You are literally dripping. "I need you," you sob.

"You act like a slut so you get treated like one," Lucy spits, making you moan as she pushes the vibrator into your hole, eliciting another moan as she slowly pumps it in and out, watching every movement of your body.

You're really sensitive. You can come every time you move Lucy's pumps faster. Your moans get louder and louder. "Can I please cum? I need it so much," you whimper. "Hold it," Lucy whispers, and you let her moan. You tense all your muscles and concentrate on what is coming.

"I can't take it anymore, Luce. Just let me cum," you scream. She turns on the vibrator while she pumps it into you. "Who do you belong to, huh?" she asks. Your teeth are open. "You babe," you stutter. Your legs shake. It's too much, too much stimulation.

"are you going to behave like that again" she adds "no luce" you whimper tears are streaming down your cheeks again your legs are cramping your hips are twitching "so you've learned your lesson baby" she asks again

"yes luce" you moan your back arching against her hand your moan filling the room she is now thrusting into you at a brutal pace your body is limp you can barely make a sound you feel dizzy "let me cum luce i was so good" you scream and moan your breathing is ragged

"Cum for me," she says, whimpering. You let go, relax all your muscles, and let it happen. You come and scream her name, but she doesn't stop pumping the vibrator hard into you.

Her other hand is around your neck, and you're whimpering from the overwhelming stimulation. You can't feel your body anymore. "Are you ready for more after an orgasm?" Luce says, and raises the vibrator. Your muscles immediately react and shake harder. You cry bitterly.

"You're such a fucked up slut," Lucy says, and you moan at her words. Your breathing slows as you cum again. This time, you cum harder, your legs wriggle, and your moans are loud.

Suddenly, Lucy removes the blindfold from your eyes, and you find yourself looking directly into her dark gaze. Your forehead is sweaty, your eyes are red, and your pupils are dilated. You look down and see the wet sheets. "Please stop, slow down," you say, looking into her eyes. Your eyes fill with tears again, and you try to untie your arms.

your next orgasm builds up "i can't it's too much" you moan and lucy says nothing but just looks at you she wants you to cum again your head rolls back as you cum again

This time, you relax while Lucy removes the vibrator from your cunt . You wince from the sudden emptiness and she kisses your forehead. "I'll run a bath and then get you. I don't think you can walk," she laughs and kisses you on the cheek.

[lunasfics]

Ghost of You - Jason Todd

summary: In which Jason Todd does what he thinks is best, and you’re left to pick up the pieces he left behind.

pairings: Jason Todd x f!reader

warnings: mention of canon typical violence, angst, cursing

word count: 1k

a/n: i would like to apologize in advance for this one 😭😭 i was in an angst type of mood, i hope you like it!! - luna <3

reblogs are appreciated!!

You didn’t sleep most nights. 

Sometimes you felt the ghost of his fingers trailing lazy patterns on your arm the way he used to love to do. Sometimes you’d dream that you were in bed and he was there sleeping next to you. In those dreams you took the opportunity to watch him, memorizing every detail of his face. Every scar. The small movements of his nostrils as he breathed peacefully. You’d remember the feeling of his rough hands holding you so gently. Like he was terrified of breaking you. 

But then you’d wake up to the cold empty space beside you, nothing but unwashed linen sheets filling the space because you didn’t want to wash away the scent that remained. The scent of him. 

Sometimes, when you’d first wake up, still groggy from your slumber, you’d think Jason was in the kitchen fixing up your favorite breakfast. Like he always did on lazy mornings. Only he was never there. Not anymore.

It was stupid. It was so stupid. The way you still thought about him. The way he just gave up. The way he thought he had control over what was best for you. 

And you were heartbroken. But you were also angry. 

So, so angry. 

You’d told him. You’d told him over and over that being with him was your decision, that risking your safety was never even a question for you when it came to being with him. You knew you’d always turn out okay, as long as you had him by your side. 

Yet he never seemed to listen. 

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks of replaying that night over and over in your head. It was torture. 

“Jason-” 

“No. Do not even try to justify anything that just happened Y/n.” 

You paused. He never called you by your first name. Never.  You tried not to focus on it. “I’m not. But you need to know that it wasn’t your fault-” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Of course it was my fault, do you honestly think Black Mask would just kidnap you for fun? Are you that naive to think that you were not put at risk today because your boyfriend is the fucking Red Hood?” He dragged a hand over his face, he was pacing. His hands were shaky. You could have died. It would have been his fault had he not arrived when he did. 

“I am not naive, Jason. I am a grown woman and I knew damn well what I signed up for when I fell in love with you. I’m not afraid of this. I’m not afraid of anything as long as I’m with you.” 

He laughed dryly, “Bravery and the power of love won't keep you alive, Y/n. I can’t lose you. I can’t be the reason you get hurt.” 

“You never have been and you never will be. Just– Please. I need you to understand that.” Your voice cracked, your eyes welling with tears, what he didn’t understand is it hurt you so, so much to see him in pain. You couldn’t lose him either. And he was constantly risking his life, you’d almost lost him far too many times. 

He turned away from you. He couldn’t see you cry right now. He needed the shred of strength he had left to protect you. For good. 

He turned to you, “I’ve been a selfish piece of shit my whole life. And I can’t– Fuck. I can’t keep putting how I feel first at the expense of your safety. You deserve a normal life. Not whatever the fuck I dragged you into.” 

“Jason. What the fuck are you saying right now.” You didn’t want to believe it. 

He didn’t look at you. He knew the moment he looked into your tear-filled eyes he’d take it back instantly. He’d apologize, bring you you to bed and hold you, peppering your face with sweet, gentle kisses. He’d drag you right back into the cycle he’d trapped you in.

You wished he would. 

“Jason.” 

“I’m leaving, Y/n. You need someone who can take care of you. Who can give you what you deserve. I have to let you go.” 

“Are you shitting me? I want you. No one else. This is not your decision to make.” 

He started walking towards the door. “I’m sorry.”  He refused to turn around, his eyes filling up with tears as he walked further towards the door, his hand on the doorknob. 

“I want you to know that right now, you, Jason Todd, are hurting me more than anyone else ever could.” 

There was a pause before he turned the doorknob, opening it and stepping out. “You’ll survive.” 

That was the last time you spoke to him. 

Over and over. The memory replayed in your mind. Every night you dreamed of him, you dreamed he never left, that he had put aside his own pride and just listened to you. That he had just let you be there for him. 

You had no idea where he was. You were constantly looking at your phone. Constantly. Waiting, hoping that you’d get a call from him, telling you he was sorry. That he wanted to come back to you. That you’d make it work.

But it never came. And deep down, you knew it wouldn’t. 

So every day you tormented yourself with dreams of him. Thoughts of him. Remembering the feeling of his arms snaking around your waist as you made your morning coffee. The feeling of him plopping his tired body onto yours after a long day, running your fingers through his hair as he laid his head on your chest. 

No thermal or weighted blanket provided the warmth and the security that he did. No pillow you hugged felt as comforting as hugging him did. No comedy you watched was as funny as when you watched it with him. No jacket you owned was as warm as the one he would drape over your shoulders while you were out together and it started to get cold. 

You lived with constant reminders that he was gone. Constant echoes of his previous presence. 

You could only hold on to the ghost of him that remained in your cold apartment.