#and something about… making sure my inner child feels safe reminds me so much of Ruby’s relationship with Little

[thatorangedrank]

Little is Alyx 👎🏻

Little is Penny 👎🏻

Little is a reflection of Ruby in Vol.1 and is a physical representation of “healing your inner child” 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

[void-my-warranty]

okay, so now that the period debate is settled~ how often does Victor growl or purr? under what circumstances?

jealousy growling? purring when you two are cuddling and he thinks you're asleep? growling without realizing it when he's working on something particularly vexing (in my mind it's sudoku/crossword puzzles :P)? purring when you scratch his scalp/cheeks/chin?

It depends entirely on who's around, and the image he wants to give off.

To me there are 3 layers to Victor Creed---

Layer 1, the dumb monster who kills without questioning why. He pulls this out when it serves him, when being underestimated will play to his benefit in the long run. This is the face he likes to show employers, enemies, government agents. If they think he's predictable, they won't look too closely at his real motivations.

Animalistic noises -- growling, snarling, roaring -- are part of the facade, and it's something he can lean into without much conscious effort.

Layer 2, the sophisticated sociopath who only cares about himself. This is the schemer, the liar, the premeditated murderer. He puts this on when he wants to be taken seriously, or needs to prove a point. This is also the face he shows to people who've proven themselves to him, friends and people who work closely with him. There's a level of respect you have to earn to see this side of him.

He doesn't put too much of his feral instincts into this persona. He'll add a little growl to his voice every now and then, just to remind people what he's capable of, but ultimately he forsakes the baser instincts while he's playing this part.

Layer 3, the housecat. This is who he is naturally, when he lets down his guard and allows his feral inner child to poke his head out. He has to feel entirely safe and accepted to show this side of himself to people, so it's pretty rare. His moods change pretty constantly when he's like this, sometimes playful, sometimes lazy, sometimes sarcastic. Occasionally he'll just want to be left alone for a while, and respecting his boundaries is crucial to maintaining trust.

If you get to see this side of him, it means you're stubborn and intelligent enough to see through all his other bullshit, and it also means that you're someone he cares for deeply. It takes an enormous amount of trust to show you his mutation in a softer, domestic lens, without the performance.

He definitely purrs when he's like this. With his big rib cage it’s so loud at times that you can practically feel your skin vibrating. He's vocal, but thoughtlessly so, saying whatever pops into his head and then acting like you're the idiot for not grasping the context. He's big on contact naps and running his claws over parts of you, just because having someone not flinch away is a novelty. Friendly snarls and pretending you’re prey are pretty common, little ways to test you and make sure it’s still safe to be Big Kitten.

[cheeseceli]

Proud - Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan × gn!Reader

Genre: little bit of angst with fluff ending, small drabble

Warnings: reader has low self-esteem, reader's mom doesn't help at all, not proof read, and one (1) bad word i think bullshit (idk if that counts as bad word)

Request: by my inner child lmao

A/n: i thought of this last night because i relate to and admire Chan so much, so he is precisely the person that could make me feel better in a time like this. This drabble ain't supposed to be good, I just wanted some comfort and luckily you can feel some comfort as well

"Were you crying?"

You don't know why, but lately it seems like life hasn't been kind to you. You were doubting yourself and your talents (did you have any?) more than usual. Everything you did seemed wrong, seemed like it could be better. Even things you were sure about, like your potential and hard work, weren't certain anymore.

The last straw was when you were calling your mom before you went to bed. You wanted to vent, to try to understand what was wrong and how you could fix it. Instead, she said "you should give up abot that. You're not that good anyways". You doubt she was saying that out of malice, like she was praying for your downfall or something like that. She actually thought you'd be better if you settled down and just gave up in your "dreams". She was actually trying to help.

But now, past midnight, you're in bed trying to hide your tears and silence your hiccups. The overthinking, the pressure and the fact that everything you were doing this past days was collapsing made you cry. The last thing that you needed was to wake up and worry the man beside you.

Unfortunately, luck was not on your side.

"Babe, look at me" Chan said, growing worried because all he could see was your back facing him "Please."

With that being said, you felt like the worst human being to ever live. You made him worry over something that was probably just drama. He'd ask what was wrong and you would explain to just later realise that you were being dramatic. You didn't want to look at him. Not now, not like this.

So you did the most reasonable thing that came across your mind: you pretended you were sleeping. Perhaps he would believe. He didn't see you crying anyways, he just heard the hiccups. Maybe he would believe that nothing was wrong and he probably misunderstood the sounds.

When he laid back his head in the pillow, you thought it worked. You almost sighed in relieve until he hugged you closer from behind. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you softly, you almost couldn't feel it, in the back of your neck going down to your shoulder.

"You know I'm here, right? It doesn't matter what it is, I'll always be here."

That was it. Now that was in fact your last straw. As comforting as it was, you couldn't handle it. Because you thought of yourself as someone who wasn't deserving of love, you forgot you were actually loved. And now you were crying even more.

As a reminder that Chan was never leaving your side, he hugged you tighter. You didn't feel suffocated. You were embraced, you were warm. For a second you believed you were safe.

"Could you tell me that you're proud of me?" was the first thing you said that night, it was almost inaudible "You can lie. Just say I'm doing good or something like that. Please."

For some moment all you could hear was the silence. You knew he was there, you could feel him. But he didn't reply. The overthinking crossed your mind once again. You aren't worth, not even in a lie.

You tried to close your eyes and forget that you even said something until you heard him

"I'm so proud of you. I'm not telling you this because you asked me to, I'm saying this because it's the truth and I should've made it clear from the moment I saw you for the first time. To be honest I'm kinda shocked that you are even doubting it in first place." He giggled silently and God, you loved that small laugh "I don't know what made you think that you're not good enough but believe me when I tell you that you are way more than just enough. You're awesome, you're amazing, I wouldn't change a thing"

You kept your eyes closed to keep back the tears. You hated feeling so vulnerable or a burden, and that was the feeling that ever showed up whenever you cried. But tonight, the feeling was slowly becoming something else. Like you were allowed to fall, cause someone, cause Chan, would catch you.

Chan made you turn around gently and placed a soft kiss on your wet cheek, making you hug him closer. Everything that you needed right now was his comfort. He happily obliged.

"I'm so so proud of you. I'll spend the rest of my life telling you this if that's what will take for you to believe it. I admire you so much, Y/n. I love the person that you are and the person that you are becoming. And no one else's opinion matters because everyone that says bulshit about you is wrong and I'm the only one who is right" you couldn't help but giggle at the last part, knowing that it was somewhat true and that made it even funnier.

"thank you"

When you thought it was impossible for him to hug you even tighter, he did it and hid his face in your neck "don't thank me for saying the obvious. Now let's sleep, mm? It's late"

You nodded, feeling way more relaxed than you were when the night began. You close your eyes only to hear Chan saying "Good night, my love."

Reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated ❣️

[deathbxnny]

Your CSM post was GOOD. It has definitely gave me the warm feeling i would expect from a dosmestic post and this has given me this idea. Can i request Aki x child reader who went through the same thing as him. Like how would he react to seeing someone going through the same things he did when he was a child. Have great day btw

- Flower Anon 🌸

-----♡

A/N: Hello, Flower Anon! I'm so happy, that you liked my csm post! I really love your idea and hope I can do it justice! I also added some things to the idea, that I hope you're gonna like! Thank you for the request and support!<33

Content: Angst, maybe too much angst, mentions of the gun devil, some spoilers to Aki's backstory, mentions of death, found family, child reader, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

At first, Aki was hesitant to take you in. You were assigned to him, after a gun devil attack killed your entire family. You seemed like an ordinary child, until it was revealed that you were somehow in possession of a devil and were therefore put into Aki's custody. The man wasn't too pleased by it, yet didn't dare go against Makima's orders in the end and took you in anyways, despite his reservations.

He was at first really distant with you at home. He knew, it wasn't just because you had a devil in you, but rather it was because you reminded him way too much of himself. You also swore to get revenge on the gun devil and somehow that upset Aki. It made him realise, that a child like you shouldn't worry of those things.

And so, he begins to change. He attempts to give you a better life, one that he always wished to have. He never tells you about his short life span either, thinking it's better that way. He doesn't want you to focus on the negative aspects of life anymore. For now, you're safe with him, even if it's not forever.

He'll try putting you into school or teach you things himself. He'll cook you warm food, clothe you and comfort you as much as he can. Something he isn't very good at, but he'll try to learn as he goes. He wished someone did the same for him during his childhood and therefore does his best for you to have everything you may need.

He can't give you your family back and he can only help you so much with controlling your devil properly, but even so, with time, he accepts his position as your new family. It was hard for him to come to terms with at first, but you healed his inner child in ways he never thought anything could.

Aki will make sure that you're still very well taken care of, even after his death. Perhaps it's his last attempt at giving something back to the world. And most importantly to you, who saved a part of his once broken soul, even if it didn't save him from his fate in the end.

-----♡

A/N: Okay, this was maybe a little too angsty and I maybe got carried away, but I still hope, you'll like it! Thank you again for the request!<33

[lifeasitgoes]

The Beginning...

Hi stranger. Welcome to my brain or inner voice I guess. First and foremost I would like to make it clear that I am not a writer which I am sure is very obvious. I am 27 years old and I work in the corporate world doing a pretty mundane job. The pay is good but it is not something that allows me to express myself creatively in any way. I have the most random thoughts creeping up in my head when I am in the middle of a work crisis and I day dream a little too much about living a much more interesting life. I am just here to share about my past and present because they are intertwined right. I grew up being someone who was introverted and then for some unknown reason at the age of 14 I became a little too extroverted. You can never find a moment where I am quiet and not all up and about being involved in everything around me, and doing whatever I can to be the self appointed team leader at every single event I am invited to. Not sure why or how, but it has become my life's mission to ensure everybody feels included and has lots of fun. I guess in some way all I want is for people to be happy and perhaps feel the same happiness that I have felt or am feeling. Okay maybe we need to rewind a little bit to the actual beginning. I grew up as a rather happy child and with a few good friends. I don't know what it's like to have catfights or high school drama. I had crushes whom I would over analyze every time they spoke to me thinking they like me back. I read a lot of books , I stayed out of trouble , I was a school prefect which may have been the reason I always can't seem to shut up when I see injustice happening infront of me and I was the girl that was friends with everyone including the teachers. I swear I was never a snitch. No my life was not perfect. School was amazing growing up because it was where I felt safe and like I mattered. I was raised by a single mum cause my dad died when I was 2 years old. Life was not always easy. I was emotionally and sexually abused from the age of 7-12. It's something I never told anyone till I was 19. I was angry at the world and the people who hurt me because it was someone that was a father figure to me. It really messed me up mentally and emotionally for years because I suppressed those feelings and memories. The people who hurt me made sure I was constantly reminded that nothing good in life is ever going to happen to someone whose parents didn't have any money either. I was not able to afford therapy or go to university because I grew up slightly above poverty I guess. Then my mum fell sick when I was 15 which meant there were much more bigger problems to deal with and maybe I have to put my dreams on pause for little awhile. To be honest, I am not a 100% okay but I will get there eventually. Despite a few crappy parts in my story, I have been blessed with an older sister , cousins and friends who bring me so much joy in life. They are the reason the crappy parts are slowly fading away because I'm busy writing new chapters filled with love , laughter and happiness. You will also be hearing about them a little often. I'm just getting started. My life is nowhere near where I want it to be because I am yet to be content with it. My story isn't about some rags to riches girl who meets prince charming and lives happily ever after. I don't know how long I will be writing on here so stay tuned I guess if you want to know about the time I got a marriage proposal at the age of 21 or how I am a terrible judge of character whom you could learn from too. Till next time, DM

[allwhilewaiting]

Revisiting my inner child layers to give her what she needed at each stage.

afraid me - I know you are scared. Scared of yourself, scared of the world and all the people in it. Scared of what could happen to you if you make one wrong move. It's okay to not be sure, and I will walk with you hand in hand as you learn to trust yourself. When you fall, I'll be here to sit beside you and tend to that ugly wound. Just because it's bleeding now doesn't mean it won't heal. It will my dear. And each time you fall, and we patch those wounds up together, and we get back up again...you will learn to be less afraid. Because life is scary, but it also can be very beautiful if you lean into the goodness.

desperate me - I know you are searching for identity. Trying to figure out of all the things to be, who you are in this world. I will place you in front of the mirror and show you who you are. I will give you the hug and the love you need to feel accepted. I will speak affirmations of your power that you do not know you possess simply by being. I will help liberate you from the need to follow a narrative. I will lead you to so many new and curious experiences to discover yourself, what you like, and to show you how much fun you can have simply exploring the many rooms in the beautiful home of yourself.

hopeless me - My sweet darling, how you hurt and wish for any reprieve to remind you of those calm and peaceful waters of ease, joy, stability...I want to hold your face in my hands and promise you with the certainty of the woman who held the woman who birthed you that you will be alright. You my pretty little baby, will be okay. Not because you are strong, not because you are resilient, but because your ancestors and Divine the Collective gives you supernatural strength and resilience. You can rely on them to keep You here, to sustain Your joy, to call in abundance. Just quiet yourself, listen to your body, determine what it is that you need, and give yourself that space to receive. Be soft and gentle with yourself...you'll get back to where you ought to be if you focus on simply pacing your feet.

defensive me - Hey there little lion, I hear your roaring...no need to increase the volume. You're mad. I get it. There's a lot of things about this world that tend to make you feel that way. A lot of injustice. A lot of cruelty. A lot of chaos and confusion. And no, it's not pleasant. I hate to ruin the story for you but...none of the bullshit is going to stop. There'll always be something lurking in the background, hell right in front of your face, that is prime for your rage. Sweet girl, every fight can't be won. Every fight isn't worth the exertion to show up for it. There are many things that are vying for your attention to divert you from the birthright of your joy. Let's take a walk by the swampy moss of the low country and talk about how every enraged fit is a missed opportunity for calm. Let's consider choosing peace, for the sake of our nervous system. I hear you. Your feelings are, and will forever be valid. But you deserve to be happy and at ease...that is an active choice you have to make over feeding into the feud. Every time you do, peace love and joy will start to attract themselves to you.

loving me - Let me wrap my arms around you...I'm so glad you found her. I'm so glad you took all that hurt, rage, fear, insecurity, and reckoned with yourself. You're not flawless, sometimes all of that still rises up to the surface, but you've learned that when it does you can inspect it. You don't have to choose it. And when the temptation is too strong not to, you forgive yourself for it. You are willing to restart as many times as necessary to get to the place you ought to be. That begins and ends with calm. You ought to be happy. Safe. Emotionally stable. That is your priority, and you've helped all the little girls inside of you realize that when they come for visits.

You're doing it. You're flying my sweet baby. Go on and soar.

Always,

Tia <3

face to face

there've been so many iterations of self during these 29 years I have. let's see how many i can count by bringing them face to face:

afraid me - i think i was generally afraid of myself, of life, of dreaming too big or too small, of people, of feelings and emotions for the greater part of my childhood years. I think that underlying fear and its manifestations as rage, isolation, and a deep gaping well of sorrow for all of my seeming missed opportunities and rejections lived inside me until around 18 when I left for college. General remembrances from this time of debilitating fear was the desire to curate a world in which i lived solely in my solitude. i played a lot of sims being afraid. i still play sims now, but i don't think it's rooted in fear so much as free flow.

desperate me - when i say desperate, i mean it in the same way as the body is desperate for food and water. I felt during this time (circa 18-28.75) that my acceptance deriving from literally anything: church, friends, academia, parental approval, attraction... was the sole stabilizer of my identity. Almost as if the absence of said approval would cause me to physically disappear. Rejection settled in me like the most abusive of offenses, and I quite literally questioned my existence in the face of it. If I couldn't be smart enough for the academics, cool enough for the fun girls, sexy enough for the men, holy enough for the congregation, then what did it mean to be a person? These were the layers that composed humanity, and that was the extent of my understanding.

hopeless me - hopelessness lived in the same sphere as desperation. They actually fed each other. Desperation led me to hopelessness, and I would desperately run from hopelessness by grasping on to anything that promised to keep me happy: material things, fake connections, insincere relationships. Hopeless me is the most dangerous me. It's the me that ran red lights in Greenville, because I didn't give a fuck after a while. It's the me that laid face down in the pillow a little too long...'just to see'. It's the me that begged for reprieve from the misery life had injected into my blood stream for too many years to count. Hopeless me is reckless. Disheveled. Foggy. So insecure. I want to wrap my arms around all that hopelessness and show her how beautiful that soft skin feels. How those eyes hold stories of power and ancestral support. Hopeless me of all the other iterations feels the closest, I know her the most. And because we are so familiar, I have to speak to her often and take extra care to ensure she doesn't fall back into those old harmful patterns.

defensive me - she lived in the same body as fear. Often fear is assumed a helpless emotion, a weakness. But on the other side of fear is rage, violence, and most definitely defensiveness. After being rejected so many times, in so many ways, and internalizing a rejection of myself, that turned into a raging defensiveness. Its primary purpose was to reflect the hatred I felt for myself. To try and get other people to share in my burden of being emotionally disengaged from my entire body but also tasked to live within it forever...that felt enormously heavy. I spat my bitchy fits and tantrums as system errors to an embodiment that was wholly unsustainable.

loving me - my latest iteration, and of course...my favorite. loving me was always there, in every iteration. it was there in fear, as I played my sims and created narratives of healthy families. it was there in desperation as i created gifts to show my affection toward others and showered them with flowery language that although misplaced, came from an access point of true sentiment. it was there in hopelessness, as i knew that the life i was leading was not one that felt good to my nervous system, and i wanted to change those circumstances...i just didn't have the right tools at the time to do so effectively. loving me was also there in defensiveness, as i felt the discomfort of wanting to protect something that i didn't know i had, the conflict and tension of projection was an inward rage of knowing that i'm supposed to value me but just can't seem to. so maybe if my voice gets louder, and my bite gets sharper, i would find that value. but value, as i know it now, doesn't live in noise. it rests in the peaceful calm. loving me is a careful, patient, intentional, easeful, open, curious, joyful, quirky, fun, present, and stable form. it is lasting...it is honest. it is willing. willing to be wrong, willing to say i'm sorry, willing to stand up for myself, willing to accept myself. and i pray daily that loving me will grow deeper roots and big flapping leaves and an array of colorful flowers to completely consume every part of this garden life, forever.

<3

[nekooru]

₊ ☾⋆ fluff/general dialogue prompts ⋆⁺₊⋆

a list of prompts i use to inspire my writing. i hope they're helpful for you !

more prompt lists: x

˙⋆⁺₊⋆.

1. "you're an idiot." / "but i'm your idiot."

2. "i can't get enough of your scent..."

3. "i love it when your hands get tangled in my hair."

4. "oh? were you worried? do you really care about me that much?" / "what? no. what gave you that idea?" / "your heart is beating too fast for someone you don't care about."

5. "is that my hoodie?" / "no, this is our hoodie!"

6. "i'm going to win that plushie for you even if it's the last thing i do!"

7. "can i stay with you tonight? i don't want to go home."

8. "it's starting to rain— here, put my jacket over your head."

9. "do you come here often?" / "uhm, i guess so, considering i work here."

10. "kiss me?" / "nope." / "please?" / "...okay, fine."

11. "the stars remind me of your eyes."

12. "there are no conditions for my love, darling, and there never will be."

13. "hold still! let me clean your wound."

14. "it's 2am. you can't keep coming over this late." / "why? you're never asleep either."

15. "why is your face so flushed?"

16. "it's okay, you can admit it! you're totally in love with me right now."

17. "i'm cold. will you hold me?" / "no way, go steal somebody else's warmth!"

18. "do you believe in fate? i'm pretty sure we were meant to be."

19. "can i see your hand?" / "sure, why?" / "so i can see how well it fits with mine."

20. "i don't think i've laughed this hard in forever. you're really something, you know?"

21. "i love you. i love loving you. it's something i'd like to do for eternity."

22. "your skin is so soft, i want to feel every inch of it."

23. "you heal my inner child, you know that?"

24. "i was wondering if you'd like to come get boba with me?" / "oh, a date? sure!" / "d-date? that's not what i— well, if you'd like to call it that."

25. "don't worry babe, i have dinner covered!" / "not after last time, you don't! don't lay a finger on that kitchen!"

26. "hey, i brought lunch for your break— i hope you don't mind!"

27. "texting you until midnight is nice, but being able to hold you until midnight is a thousand times better."

28. "this level is too hard. will you help me with this game?"

29. "can i lay in your lap while you play video games?"

30. "this is embarrassing to say, but i can't stop thinking about you."

31. "you're such a softie. why do you hide it?" / "i don't really try to hide it, it's just that nobody has ever cared enough to see it."

32. "oh gosh. how much have you had to drink? let me take care of you."

33. "don't worry. i'll keep you safe no matter what."

34. "you look good in my shirt."

35. "let's take a stupid walk for our stupid mental health!"

36. "i'm tired...is it okay if i rest my head in your lap for a bit? don't let me fall asleep."

37. "what are you listening to?" / "here, take an earbud."

38. "stay with me, please? i need you tonight. maybe for the rest of my life, if you're generous."

39. "make a wish!" / "uhmm...okay, done." / "well, what'd you wish for?" / "nice try, that's not how wishes work."

40. "you're the perfect size to cuddle, i swear."

41. "if i were an animal, what do you think i'd be?"

42. "make a wish!" / "uhmm...okay, done." / "will you tell me if it comes true?" / "i promise."

43. "i'm pretty good at (subject), so let me know if i should come over to help you with homework."

44. "your leg is hurt. let me carry you home and we'll figure out how to make it better."

45. "oh, you look so pretty when you've just woken up!"

46. "i'm on my way to your place." / "oh? how come?" / "no reason, just wanted to see you."

47. "sorry, can you say that again?" / "you never listen, do you?" / "no, i do. i just like hearing your pretty voice more."

48. "home doesn't feel like home anymore. you feel like home now."

49. "i just wanted you to know that i'm so proud of you, and the person you are." / "oh my god, are you dying?" / "no, stupid!"

50. "i don't want to let go of you. or get out of bed. what if we just pretend the world doesn't extend past this blanket for today?"

˙⋆⁺₊⋆.

☾. please like/reblog if this post was helpful !

[monocaelia]

inazuma bound headcanons

their last goodbyes before you depart to the land of eternity.

feat. childe, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, xiao

warnings : inazuma spoilers, slight angst but mainly fluff

❀ childe

despite inazuma being a place not many have ventured to and from, childe isn't the slightest worried for your safety. he knows the dangers of the storming seas surrounding inazuma and of the situation the people of inazuma are in due to the vision hunt decree.

but he prides in the fact that you're strong enough to handle what inazuma has to offer to you. abyss, you've defeated him in battle, there's no way you can't handle a little thunderstorm.

the cheerful chirp of your name alerts your attention to the ginger haired harbinger as he approaches you on the streets of liyue harbor. you raise an eyebrow at him, knowing full well that he shouldn't be here and should be stationed at dragonspine.

before you can scold him about his responsibilities, he scoops you into his arms and spins you around. his laughter rings in your ears and you can't help but smile. any and all thoughts of being mad at him are washed away as soon as his eyes meet yours.

the rest of your day is spent with him, as he won't be able to see you off before your trip to inazuma. he buys you trinkets, food, slings an arm around your shoulders all so you could be reminded of him and how fun it is to spend time with him.

"you know, it's a shame i wasn't stationed in inazuma next. i would have loved to explore it with you and fight at your side for a while longer," childe muses to you as the streets of liyue begin to light up for the evening. his hand is in yours and you squeeze it in reassurance.

"i'll miss you, a lot." your heart swells at his words, pulling him into a comforting embrace. your lips curve into a smile when his arms tighten themselves around you and you can't help but think that you'll miss him too.

"don't forget to send me letters about your visit to inazuma! or else i'll go over there and hunt you down myself, [name]!"

❀ diluc

diluc is not too thrilled to hear that you're departing to inazuma. not that he has anything against the nation, but he knows how hard it is to enter and leave and he knows of the situation the people under the shogunate are in.

but he isn't going to harp you on making sure you can protect yourself. he has faith in you that you'll have a safe voyage over and stay alive while on your journey in the land of eternity. he's seen you singlehandedly defeat and restore dvalin; there's no need to worry about your wellbeing.

his hand brushes against your cheek, moving the hair that curtained your slumbering face. you look so peaceful, so at ease resting against his lap as if you aren't about to set off overseas with no guarantee of your safe return.

you stir from your short slumber, leaning into his touch and diluc cannot help the small smile forming on his lips. "did you sleep well?" he asks, watching you as you slowly get up from his lap. you hum in response and stretch your limbs.

"have you finished packing for your trip?" diluc's question earns a slight frown from you and he raises an eyebrow. "you didn't finish preparing for inazuma, even though you're leaving soon?" diluc's assumption is proven correct when you begin twiddling your fingers and struggling to find a good excuse.

a sigh leaves his lips, getting up and offering you a hand. you bashfully take it. diluc hoists you up and you let out a little laugh when he sends an unamused frown your way. "i'm sorry! i was supposed to finish my preparations today, but i wanted to see you before i had to go."

it's a good thing that diluc has a soft spot for you, otherwise he would have given you the scolding of a lifetime. instead, he gently grasps your hand and flicks your forehead with his free hand before leading you inside the dawn winery so you could properly prepare for your journey overseas.

"i can't accompany you to inazuma, unfortunately, but i'll wish you a safe journey. take care, [name], i'll see you when you return."

❀ kaeya

kaeya is intrigued when you tell him that you'd be leaving for inazuma anytime soon. it's not often that people willingly want to enter storming seas and a land that isn't fond of people traveling to and from.

if anything, kaeya wants to tag along and fight by your side in inazuma. there's not much to do in mondstadt anyways. with jean and diluc keeping everyone in check kaeya didn't really have anything to do besides stir up some drama between the people of mondstadt or provoke enemies of mondstadt.

but he knows that shirking from his duties as captain of the calvary just to accompany you to inazuma wouldn't fare well with jean.

"i'm sad to see that our journey together ends here," kaeya tells you during your final visit to angel's share, for a while anyways. you roll your eyes and gently shove him with your shoulder. you know he's trying to pull at your strings from the way his sapphire eye glimmers in mischief.

"it's not going to be forever, you know. i'll be back before you know it," you reply, taking a sip of your drink. "you're acting like i'm going to inazuma and dying there." you bite back a smile when kaeya sighs dramatically and leans his entire bodyweight on you. a groan leaves your lips from the pressure.

"it's like i can still hear their voice." you snort and shove kaeya off of you, earning a snicker from the taller male. "say, [name], why don't we leave the bar and have a night of our own? just the two of us before you leave."

you pretend to ponder at his question for a moment, but say yes. you don't miss the way his lips curl into a feline smile, or the way his hand encases your own as he leads you out of the tavern and into the chilly evening of mondstadt.

but the chill doesn't bother you. not with kaeya's warm hand intertwined with yours as the two of you laugh and chatter in the warm glow of the street lamps lining the streets.

"are you sure you don't want me to tag along? wouldn't want you to miss me, haha. come back soon. don't keep me waiting."

❀ kazuha

knowing you're about to take off to the nation he escaped from puts him on edge, if he's being honest here. he knows of how brutal raiden shogun can be, stealing the visions of the innocent so she can remain eternal.

yet, seeing the reassuring smile adorning your face calms his nerves. he knows of your strength, of the rumors and tales of you fighting a dragon and a fatui harbinger, but he can't help but worry nonetheless.

his hand gently grasps your own, his fingers drawing shapes along the curves of your knuckles and brushing over the callouses that have formed on your fingertips. your head rests atop his shoulders as the two of you sit on the deck of the crux underneath the stars.

"is something on your mind?" you ask when he pauses in his ministrations. kazuha sighs, pausing briefly before replying to you.

"will you be okay? alone in inazuma, i mean. my homeland is a beautiful and wonderful place, but there is a corrupt and unjust leader ruling over it. i fear you'll be harmed and-"

"and you won't see me again?" you smile and pull away to meet your companion's gaze. there is a storm of worry in kazuha's ruby eyes and you hold his jaw in your hand, thumb rubbing calming circles on his cheek when he leans into your touch and holds your wrist.

"i'm stronger than you think, you've seen that firsthand. i'll be okay, kazuha." your reassuring words seemingly relax the inazuman traveller, but you can still sense the uncertainty surrounding him.

kazuha presses a gentle kiss against your inner palm before sliding his hand up to interlock your hands together.

"should anything happen to you, the wind will guide us together and i shall protect you. stay safe, dear [name]."

❀ xiao

xiao is a bit... unsettled when you give him the news that you're leaving for inazuma in a few days. it isn't often that you get to see him due to his job as one of liyue's yakshas and your travels across teyvat's lands.

he knows you'll be okay in inazuma, but he has no jurisdiction nor power in inazuma. his responsibility lies in liyue and he cannot leave until his duty to protect the nation of contracts has been fulfilled. yet, he wants to accompany you so he can assure your safety and survival against the stormy seas of inazuma.

"oh, there you are," your voice calms the worrying adeptus, even more so when your presence is beside him. he doesn't respond to you verbally, but he spares you a glance before fixing his gaze back to guili plains.

there's a comfortable silence between the two of you, neither of you feeling the need to speak up. but xiao's gentle voice breaks it with a statement you've been anticipating. "it's not too late to stay in liyue so i can dispose of those who harm you."

you turn to face him, not surprised at all to see his piercing eyes already staring at you. "i have to, i need to find my sibling and meeting the shogunate is the only way forward." his lips form a thin line at your answer.

your fingers inch forward to touch xiao's hand; he flinches when your fingers graze his out of instinct. but he grasps your hand before it can retreat, squeezing it as if it would make you stay beside him.

but he knows you have to go, have to find answers on the whereabouts of your sibling even if it meant risking your life.

"if i can't protect you, promise me you'll protect yourself. if you were to get hurt... forget it. just make sure you stay alive."

[alexjcrowley]

Tag yourself "Ancient Rome main characters but it's just very violent personal attacks" - Augustus's principate edition:

Gaius Julius Caesar "Augustus"

if you're honestly thinking to tag yourself as him what the fuck is your problem, your self-esteem is sky rocketing, you shouldn't be on Tumblr, you should be on Tik Tok

you take the lead in group projects and do 90% of the work because you think you're the only one who can it right

everybody better treat you like royalty otherwise bold of them to presume you'd let bitches talk mad shit about you

frail health though, stay safe baby

favourite quote "I was born for politics. I have great hair, and I love lying"

calm down I'm sure you'll get that college admission letter, no need to be dramatic and start threatening you'll kill yourself if you don't get in

Marcus Antonius

burnout gifted kid

like honestly you had your whole life planned and then oopsie everything comes crashing down

aw, you want daddy's approval? Don't we all?

you're like an only child, or the eldest child. Then some bitches came along and you were forced to share.

If that's not a mummy sorry mummy sorry mummy sorry you ain't hitting that (or daddy ;))

you love giving pep talk, reminds you of the time people used to look up to you

Gaius Cilnius Maecenas

light academia, dark academia, chaotic academia, the point is: academia

your friends are the most interesting thing about you

you surrounded yourself with artists and creative types, such a shame you aren't one of them

you're that person who'd shout "THAT'S MY BEST FRIEND" when your friend does something incredibile, but nobody will ever do that for you

so how's life standing on the sidelines?

at least you're not bitter about it (or you're very good at hiding it, let's be honest)

supportive bestie

wasn't kidding about great taste in friends, your friendships are very elite and everybody wished they were in your inner circle, make 'em wish, darlin

Publius Vergilius Maro (Vergil)

COUNTRY ROOOOOOOOADS, TAKE ME HOOOOOOOOOME

cottagecore

as a society WE NEED to retreat to the country and go back to peak of human civilization: farming

you're cooler in theory than in practice

massive introvert

you just want a cottage and some books and maybe some plants and a pet and free time, is that too much to ask?

Yes, because that shit's a fever dream, you wouldn't last a day in a real farm, get your head out of your ass

Quintus Horatius Flaccus (Horace)

you think you're funny. You're the only one to think that.

self deprecative humour for the win

your superpower is infodumping. Sure, everybody does it once in a while- but they way you do it. Wow.

you're a tiny gay, a petite homosexual, if you will

wittiness is one of the many qualities you believe to possess

how are you handling those five mental breakdowns a day?

Guess what, clean air, drinking water and reading outside won't cure your identity crisis

Publius Ovidius Naso (Ovid)

you listen to doja cat unironically. And no, I don't mean "I like her beat", I mean you listen to the lyrics of doja cat unironically.

you're a slut, but, if you're reading this, it mean you're on Tumblr, so probably you're more of a theoritical slut

gossip girl xoxo

when people come to ask you for dating advice you feel like an old french prostitute recalling the glorious days of your youth

you think you're incredibly more interesting than you actually are

like, face it, if you were that great people wouldn't leave you on read

God it's like two weeks in the country at you grandparents's house there's no need to start complaining to all your friends you're in "exile", the wi-fi isn't even that bad, you're just a drama queen

you once dreamed of living in London or New York or Paris, don't lie to me

I hope people are actually know what I'm referencing in this or some things might sound very weird or mean out of nowhere (they're instead mean for a reason)

[yoonpobs]

bodyguard | kth | m

pairing: kim taehyung x oc

genre: enemies to lovers, Bodyguard!AU but oc is the bodyguard, fluff?

warnings: eventual smut, sexual tension, light choking, suggestive content bc oc is a minx and so is tae, i'll add as the story progresses, kim taehyung as a rich kid

words: 2, 138

summary: you protect taehyung from people but forget about the biggest threat. yourself.

“You’re who Namjoon hired?”

You’re used to having bewildered expressions when they find out that you out of all other possible candidates was what your agency decided to provide clients with rather than an objectively more stereotypical option—the big man.

But you were here for a specific reason and you knew that your duty lied in your responsibility to the man in front of you, even if his expression of doubt irritates you.

“Yes, Mr Kim. My name is ____.” You bow your head slightly, hands held together by your pelvis as you stand with your back straight.

The man in front of you glances over at his assistant, who only shoots him a firm nod as if to tell him that he was in fact stuck with you, despite all the uncertainties he may have.

Frankly, when Seokjin first recruited you into the agency, you were merely meant to be in charge of off-field duties and act as intel for field agents, but few of your previous mentors recognised your potential and physical agility when it came to mandatory training and pushed for you to be trained as an official agent rather than a tech lady.

You were lucky that a few of your colleagues had long ditched the misogynistic mindset that women were biologically weaker than men and would serve as a liability to the agency, but there were still a few higher-ups that were traditional in every sense that stuck their noses in your business when Seokjin would assign you to high profile clients.

Kim Taehyung was no different, but you were sure he fell into the latter of the traditional man. He did come from a lineage of old money.

“But you’re a … woman.” He says slowly, eyeing you up and down.

Even the outfit you were in was far off the usual appearance that most bodyguards would take on the first day of work. A long dress with a maxi slit by your leg, which left little to imagine what lies beneath. You bite your tongue to keep the snarky remark down and nod your head tightly to your new boss.

“I best fit the requirements you listed out to my agency.” Is your simple response.

His assistant steps between the two of you before your boss can say anything else, and based on your observations you note that he probably is the rationale behind Kim Taehyung’s mind; the reasonable and objective one.

“I’ll show ____ around headquarters just so she’s aware of the layout.” His assistant says hastily.

You don’t miss the last look your boss gives you, and all you do is bow your head before you turn on your heels, pulling out the gun in your garter and hold it behind your back—ready for duty.

“Jesus fucking Christ, _____.”

You’re used to hearing Taehyung sneer at you. It was something that you needed to get used to when you first were hired for the job because while he was known as an icon, a genius behind his father’s legacy—he was still wholly immature in every sense of a man child.

“Yes, Mr Kim?” You say blandly, flipping through the brochure that was laying idly on his coffee table; clearly ignoring the glare he was shooting you as he wraps the robe tighter around his frame.

Before he can open his mouth to yell at you again, you see the silhouette of the woman that was previously occupying his bed scurry past by the two of you, offering a meek bow of her head towards Taehyung before she’s out the door.

Your eyes follow her uninterestedly until you hear the click of the door, signalling that she was out and gone.

“What is your problem? Is my sex life something you need to protect too?” Taehyung spits.

You skim your eyes over his frame and spot a few marks littered along the expanse of his neck before your eyes rest on his tightened expression; your own one remaining impassive.

“My duty is to ensure you’re safe.” You remind him.

He scoffs, running a hand through his tangled hair—a clear testament to what he was engaging in before you had shamelessly kicked the woman out, mid-progression.

“Hyunbi is harmless.” He sneers at you.

You note that his erratic behaviour was likely a symptom of being cock-blocked, so you hold your tongue and just level him with an unimpressed stare.

“Hyunbi is the heir to the Im group. Need I remind you that her father’s company is the one that threatens your stockholders?”

Frankly, you try to engage with Taehyung on business matters as little as you could because all you were here for was to protect him and ensure that his head wouldn’t be served on the plate of an assassin that was out to get him.

You scoff to yourself because men were truly blinded by their desires and he would’ve risked his family’s fortune because he wanted to get laid.

“Okay, and? She was about to suck my dick not steal intel to the company.” He scoffs.

You don’t say anything but drop the files you found in her purse as you were doing your much-needed background checks on the woman that was visiting on such short notice, especially given the fact that she managed to bypass the system on being on the list before she was sent up.

The moment the beautiful women stepped foot into the apartment, you knew something was off about her. It was intuition from years of training under your belt, but also a womanly instinct. An intuitive sense that told you that she was going to wreak havoc if she could, and it was your duty to prevent that from happening.

“What’s this?” He picks up the documents to skim over the contents.

You don’t say anything but keep your eyes focused on his expression when you see it morph from confusion to realisation and pure mortification.

“She was going to blackmail me?” He asks in a disbelieving tone.

You nod your head.

“And if I hadn’t intervened then she would have probably falsely claimed that she was carrying your child.”

Taehyung shoves the documents aside and rubs his hands across his face, releasing a grunt as he lays back into the expensive leather of his couch.

“I can’t even get laid.” He huffs.

You roll your eyes.

“Taehyung,” You call out to him sternly, and when he opens one eye to look at you, only then do you continue, “You need to be more careful with who you fraternise with. You’re the CEO of the biggest manufacturing company in Korea and that is bound to make you a target to competitors. I can’t be cross-checking every single person you come across because my job is to protect you from physical harm—not be your mother.”

He narrows his eyes at you, and you see the petulance skim the surface of his iris as he leans forward, ensuring that his gaze is kept on your blank expression.

“So, that’s it? I can’t fuck around with anyone? Just because of my position? That’s a load of bullshit ____.” He snaps.

You purse your lips and give him a pointed glare.

“Stop twisting my words. Fuck who you like but be smart about who you stick your dick into.” You tell him lowly.

“Then I might as well fuck you, right? You’re the only person I can trust.” He sneers, leaning closer to you.

Your eyes widen, and your stoic demeanour is interrupted with his blunt words.

While you couldn’t deny that your boss was undeniably attractive, and alluded major sex appeal—he was still your boss and you would never cross professional boundaries no matter how much your body betrayed you. Even the Taehyung’s banter got much more … explicit and flirty, you brushed it off as him being himself. But he’s never explicitly stated anything like that before.

When you realise you’re gaping at him, you quickly try to compose yourself but unfortunately for you, he immediately catches on your surprised expression and bathes in it.

He smirks at you, standing up to walk across to where you were sat and plops next to you, a bit too close for a boss to be to his bodyguard.

“I’m right, aren’t I? You said to be smart and fuck someone who won’t have anything against me.” He whispers into your ear and you try to stop the shivers that travel down your body.

Taehyung notices how tense you are and reaches an arm to trail down your neck, slowly and teasingly until it rests on your hipbone.

You curse yourself for wearing only a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, since it was meant to be your day off until you were made aware of Hyunbi’s visit.

“Watch your mouth, Kim Taehyung.” You grit.

He snorts but nuzzles his nose into the column of your neck, and you feel the hot breath fan across your skin.

“You’re not denying it. Does that mean you want me to fuck you? Nice and deep?” He whispers the words against your skin and you can’t help the involuntary clamp of your thighs.

Taehyung, even as dense as he is, picks up on your movement immediately and reaches his other hand to keep your thighs apart, large hand sprawled across your thigh and you marvel for a moment at how big his hands are.

“Bet I could fuck the uptightness out of you, sweets.”

“Did you forget that I know everything about you?” You hiss, attempting to sound threatening but that only causes Taehyung to grin wider.

“Ooo. I love it when you get bitchy with me.” He teases, rubbing a circle with his thumb on your inner thigh as you feel desire pool in your belly.

“You’re insufferable.” You huff and you hate the way you sound breathless.

“Did I ever tell you how much your bitchiness turns me on? Always dreamed of shutting you up with my cock.” He confesses against your cheek this time and your eyes widen comically, your own hand clamping over his one over your thigh.

As Taehyung momentarily gets distracted with mouthing at your ear, you come to your senses and realise that you’re becoming the pawn in his game.

You quickly flip him over, until he’s settled under you with your knees sprawled next to his thighs, pelvis’ nearly touching as he smirks at you.

“Listen, Kim,” You whisper, leaning down until your noses are touching and you can spot every freckle on his face. He leans up to chase your breath but you don’t allow him the satisfaction of caving in.

“You’d never be able to handle my pussy.” You grin at him.

His eyes darken, and you feel his hands rest tightly on your hip.

You straddle his thighs and lean in until you’re sure his cock feels your pussy against him through the barrier of his robe and your shorts.

“Try me.” He challenges, mirth dancing in his eyes.

“You know why?” You lean into his ear to whisper, and your hands trail down his chest slowly and seductively until they reach the opening of the robe where his pelvis is, touch teasing and suggestive, especially when his breath hitches.

“Why?” He attempts to grind up to you, blinded by his carnal desire.

“Because …” You bite his earlobe and hear the grunt he lets out, cock unmistakably hardening until your core.

“Once you fuck me, you’ll never be able to fuck any other pussy without wishing it was mine.” You say as you pepper kisses down his jaw, right up to his chin until your lips are hovering above his.

But as soon as he attempts to close the distance, you push yourself off of him and return to your stoic and professional stance.

“You have a meeting with your investors in twenty.”

Taehyung gapes at you, the outline of his cock clear against the thin material of his robe as he releases heavy breaths of want as he looks at you in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious.” He snaps.

You shrug your shoulders and cock your head to the clock behind him.

“Good luck getting ready, Kim.” You say with a final smirk, enjoying the fact that you had him frustrated and high.

“This isn’t the end, _____.” He says lowly.

“You better hurry up and hope you finish in less than twenty minutes.” You tease, and you see the tip of his ears burn.

“Maybe I’ll give it five.” You say, flipping your hair over your shoulder and making sure to add a little sway to your hips when you walk away.

You briefly hear a fuck being uttered when you open the door to leave, and you feel triumphant with what you left him with.

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

go big or go home

this was a request from @kk2016

Hi!! could you write about being pregnant with Harry but no one knew so you guys show up to the Grammys together and everyone can see your baby bump through your dress?

here is the link to the dress you’re wearing. I have no idea if this is a good option, I’m terrible with fashion :) but I thought it was cute! If you hate it, definitely just imagine something else :)

warnings: pregnancy

word count: 2.8k

It wasn't exactly hard to hide a pregnancy during a pandemic. You barely left the house, and if you did, you weren't recognized. The one time you and Harry had been spotted, you had only been 4 months along and were wearing an oversized sweater. So it was safe to say this baby was your family's little secret.

Harry knew, of course. He had been the first person to know (after Anne and the doctor who confirmed the pregnancy). You had got around to telling the rest of your families after the first trimester was over. The "inner circle," as you liked to call it, were the few people who were aware. This consisted of your parents, Anne, Gemma, Harry's band, Jeff and Glenne. That was it. Neither of you were wild on the idea of Harry's entire fanbase knowing, so you kept it under wraps as best you could.

Which, once again, wasn't hard to do. You didn't even have to go out for groceries; they could be delivered. You could buy everything for the nursery online and have it sent directly to your front doorstep. You and Harry had stayed inside for the better part of the past seven months.

However, there was one event coming up that you absolutely refused miss out on. The Grammys. At first, Harry thought you should stay home. He was worried you would get sick, and how it might affect the baby. He was worried about his fans finding out. He was worried he wouldn't win and he would have to see your disappointed face right next to him.

Of course, you were not about to let this happen. You assured him you wouldn't get within six feet of anyone besides him. You wouldn't shake anyone's hand or hug anyone. You would wear two masks, if it would make him feel safer. You would shower in hand sanitizer. You really didn't care what you had to do; you were not going to miss this night.

"Harry, I swear to God, if you keep giving me that terrified look..."

"I'm sorry!" He exclaimed, dragging a hand over his face. "I'm allowed to be a little apprehensive. This really isn't a good idea, I think it might be best if you just stay home. I just-"

"Absolutely not," you spun around, placing your hands on your hips. "I'm going to be there, in person, so I can watch my husband become a Grammy winner."

"You can watch from here!" He argued. "Plus, that way, you don't have to walk around all night. I know your feet have been bugging you, and-"

"Don't use this pregnancy against me!" You threw your head back, taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm not," he said, stepping closer and resting his hands on your belly. "I just want you to be safe. You and our little girl."

"I know," you brought up your hand to brush along his cheekbone. "And we will be. I'm not going to get close to anyone. I'm not going to touch anything. I'm going to have two masks on the entire night. Harry, there won't be anyone safer than me this whole night. I promise."

"I just..."

When he didn't finish his sentence, you leaned in to meet his eyes. "What are you really worried about?"

"Lots of things," he murmured. "Besides the literal plague? I'm worried about people finding out and being cruel. I don't want to deal with that, and I don't ever want you to be exposed to it. I'm worried something bad will happen, and it'll be all my fault for letting you come along. And... I'm worried you'll be disappointed if I don't win." His last sentence was so quiet you barely heard it, but it still made your heart ache.

"Baby..." You said quietly, your voice sad. You ignored his other two worries for now, because this one was clearly the most important to deal with. “You think I'll be disappointed in you?"

He nodded, looking at his hands on you instead of meeting your eyes. "Everything I do, it's all for you. You and her. What if it's not enough? What if I fail?"

"Harry," you kept your hands on his face, directing him to look at you. "I will never, ever be disappointed in you. You are amazing, in everything you do. Understand? I personally think you will be a three time Grammy winner at the end of the night-" he grinned at this- "But even if you're not, I will still be so incredibly proud of you. I will always, always be proud of you, and I will always love you. Okay?"

He didn't move, but you used your grip on his face to nod his head up and down. His smile grew bigger, and he grabbed your wrist gently. He turned his head to kiss your palm, sighing softly before he pulled away.

"I love you so much," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make me feel better. You always know exactly what to say."

You shrugged with a small smile. "I'm just amazing, I think."

"I think so too."

-----

You were sitting on the couch, dressed in your normal quarantine clothing. Hoodies. Sweatpants for him, leggings for you. Why would you get dressed up for a virtual acceptance ceremony?

You bounced excitedly as they announced "Adore You" as one of the nominations for best music video. Harry smiled when you gripped his arm.

"I don't have a good feeling about this," he admitted.

"Well, you're just a ray of sunshine today," you huffed. "Here it comes!"

"And the Grammy goes to... Beyoncé, Blue Ivy, and WizKid."

You slumped back slightly, patting his arm.

He laughed lightly at your reaction. "She deserves it."

You nodded. "Not to be mean to you, but yeah, she definitely does."

-----

As the hours wore on, you could tell Harry was getting more nervous.

"It's just- it's my first performance in a while. What if it's not good?"

"Harry," you grabbed his face again. "It will be amazing. Yes?"

Again, he didn't respond. Again, you had to physically move his head up and down in a nod. Again, this made him laugh. It was a small gesture, but you could tell it helped calm him down at least a little bit.

"There's one thing we haven't talked about," he pulled away from you, going through his drawers to find his socks.

"What's that?"

"Your outfit."

You shook your head. "I already picked my dress." You pulled out the garment bag, unzipping it to show him. It was fairly simple; you didn't want to overshadow him on his big day.

He smiled. "It's beautiful."

You nodded. "We're going to look so hot together."

"Couple of the year, I think."

"We might break the internet. Seriously. You're wearing a leather jacket with no shirt and I'm pregnant. Twitter is going to explode."

He laughed again, pulling you into his arms. "Are you sure you're ok with everyone knowing? It might not be good, people's reactions can be really-"

"You do realize they will have to find out at some time, right? You can't exactly hide a child forever."

"I know," he sighed. "I just like living in our little bubble, where it's only me and you who know."

"And your mom. And Gemma. And my parents. And Sarah, and Mitch, and Adam, and Ny, and Charlotte, and Jeff and-"

"Alright, alright, you've made your point," he chuckled. "But you know what I mean."

"I do," you nodded. "And I'm ok with people knowing. Besides, it'll blow over soon. I can just stay off socials until it does."

Harry sighed again. "I wish you didn't have to. I wish people would just..."

"Treat people with kindness," you grinned. "Maybe they don't know. Maybe you should tell them to do that sometime."

He rolled his eyes playfully, pulling away from you. "You're funny."

"Hilarious, I know."

"I have to get ready," he sighed. "One last try- are you sure you don't want to stay home?"

"Not a chance," you smiled. "Now shoo so I can get dressed."

-----

His hands were shaking as he opened the door of his dressing room. You gripped his arm tighter, trying to remind him you were here for him.

"Everything's going to be ok," you said softly.

He nodded, but his hands still shook.

"I'll be right offstage, you can look at me if you get nervous," you reminded him. "This might not be the time, but I'm, like, really excited to see you perform."

"Yeah?" He gave a small smile.

You nodded. "It's been a while since I've been able to see that. And you look... very nice in this outfit."

"Very nice, huh?" He laughed. "What a compliment."

"I do have a way with words," you grinned.

"Always," he leaned his forehead against yours. "Now what was it you said earlier? Shoo, so I can get dressed."

"I'll be just offstage," you reminded him one last time, blowing him a kiss as you stepped out of the room.

-----

You couldn't take your eyes off him for the entire performance. He was worried for no reason, because he was incredible. He was born to do this, you could tell.

You cheered louder than anyone else when he finished, earning a cheeky smile from him. As soon as he could get away, he ran over to you and enveloped you in his arms.

"I told you you'd be amazing," you whispered.

He nodded, wearing the biggest smile you'd seen in days. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"I didn't do anything," you laughed.

"No, I couldn't have done it without your moral support," he clarified.

"Right, moral support," you nodded seriously before breaking into a smile again. "But really, that was amazing. You're perfect."

"That's all you, love," he returned the compliment, turning back around to watch Billie performing. He kept his arm around you, though. The camera panned to you a few times during the different performances, and you knew by this point the viewers at home had seen your bump. Your dress wasn't very tight fitting, but you were almost 8 months along. You were sure social media was exploding by now.

You didn't have to worry about that though, not yet at least. You had a few more hours of calm.

-----

Harry's nerves had apparently returned once you got to the table. His hand was gripping yours even tighter than before and his leg bounced constantly. You placed your hand on his thigh, trying to calm his frantic movements. His eyes went to yours, and you could tell he was smiling under his mask.

"It will be fine," you reminded him. "Everything will be ok. You already did the hard part, remember?"

He nodded, taking in a deep breath. "Right. And soon, we can go home, and sit on the couch, and eat ice cream."

"Exactly," you smiled. "And I can get back in my leggings and not get dressed again for the next 6 months."

He laughed at this, and his grip on your hand loosened. He still kept hold of you, but you could tell he wasn't so nervous anymore.

"Ok, shh, they're announcing it now," you said excitedly.

Harry looked down, apparently seized with nerves again.

"And the Grammy goes to... Watermelon Sugar, Harry Styles."

His eyes went wide, and your face split into a giant grin. He reached his arm out to grab yours, almost like he didn't believe what had just happened.

He pulled his mask off, standing up. He took your hand, gesturing for you to stand too, so of course you obliged. He pulled you against him, and you could feel how fast his heart was beating. When he pulled away, you smiled up at him.

"I knew you would win," you said softly, still beaming. "Now go!" You gave his shoulder a gentle push toward the stage.

"Wow, um..." He blew out a breath, looking at you before he spoke again. "To everyone who made this record with me, thank you so much. This was the first song we wrote after my first album came out, during a day off in Nashville, and I just want to say thanks to Tom, Tyler, Mitch, and everyone... Rob Stringer, and everyone at Colombia, my manager Jeffery, who has always nudged me to be better and never pushed me, thank you so much. I feel very grateful to be here, thank you. All of these songs are fucking massive, so thank you so much, I feel very honored to be here among all of you, so thank you so much. And I want to say-" he looked at you again, a smile of adoration crossing his face. "Most importantly, thank you to my wife. Y/N, I love you more than anything else on this planet, and I couldn't have done any of this without you. You make it all possible, so... thank you to the light of my life, and of course our daughter." His eyes went wide at the last sentence, like he hadn't planned to say that. He looked around nervously before he quickly made his way back to his seat.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say that, it slipped out-"

You shook your head, taking his hand. "It's ok, don't worry about it," you smiled. "I'm so proud of you."

He put his mask back on, but it didn't hide the happiness on his face.

-----  

Once everything was over and you had both climbed into the car to go home, it seemed to really hit him.

"I won a Grammy," he said in disbelief, looking down at the award in his hands.

"You won a Grammy," you repeated with a big smile on your face. "Grammy winner Harry Styles."

"Yeah," he looked back up at you, his eyes still wide. "That's... insane."

You nodded. "And very impressive. And I'm so proud of you."

He smiled, scooting closer so he could put his arm around you. "Grammy winner Harry Styles... and his amazing wife."

"And their amazing daughter," you added, placing his other hand over your stomach. "Feel that? She's been kicking all night. She's excited for you."

He grinned, before his face dropped back into one of concern. "Are you sure you're ok with what I said? I really didn't mean to, I just got caught up, it-"

"Baby," you stopped him. "I promise, it's ok. Besides, everyone knew the minute I walked in there."

"Right," he nodded. "Has your phone been blowing up?"

You shrugged. "I turned it off. Should we check?"

"I'm a little nervous," he admitted.

"I'm gonna do it." You fished your phone out of your purse, eyes widening when you saw how many notifications you had. From every possible app. Congratulations texts, excited DMs, missed calls, and then there were the mentions. There were well over a hundred on your lockscreen alone.

You cleared all of them, deciding to open Twitter and see how bad it was. You were very pleasantly surprised.

"harry's daughter" was #1 on the trending page, and "harry in leather" was right behind it. Clicking on the first one, you found several GIFs of the terrified look on Harry's face when he accidentally made the announcement. You smiled, but scrolled further. Hundreds of fans were typing in all caps, apparently very excited that Harry was going to be a father.

"You're right, we broke the internet," he grinned, looking through his own timeline. "I've seen my bare chest more in the last five minutes than my entire life before this."

"What a power couple we are," you laughed. "We got the top two trending spots."

"What an accomplishment," he joked.

You scrolled for a few more minutes, still yet to see a negative message. "You were worried for nothing, babe. They're all very excited for us."

"I see that," he grinned. "They've also named our baby for us, and somehow know her zodiac sign."

"Oh, wonderful," you laughed. "But really, it could have been worse."

"Definitely," he nodded. "Well, that's one way to announce a pregnancy. On live TV in front of the entire nation."

"Yeah, you know, go big or go home."

"Exactly."

Closing Twitter, you moved on to Instagram. You gasped when you saw the first picture on your feed. "Sarah posted her bump! Now we can be baby buddies in public, not just in secret."

Harry smiled, turning off his phone and pulling you closer to him.

"omg, baby buddies :)" you commented. Within seconds, Sarah had liked the comment and replied with "they will be best friends😊"

With that, you turned off your own device and leaned into his side. "What a good night. Aren't you glad I came with you?"

"I am," he admitted. "Very glad. Thanks for being stubborn."

"Always."

[besotted-eros]

Visit from a Ghost

Eren x Fem!Reader

Content: Angst, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f! receiving), pining, overstim, dirty talk, slight blood, bruising, established relationship, canon compliant

A/N: so this is a companion piece to my obsessed! Eren headcanons and fic. References to manga spoilers, heavy on the angsty sex. Very self indulgent. Hope you enjoy!

When you saw the figure at your bedroom window, lounging upon the sill as though he was meant to be there, you drew your gun.

It was a small, angry thing, wrestled from the grasps of a Marleyan soldier and entrusted to you to help protect the queen. You had yet to use it, but levelled it naturally now, letting out a growled command for the shadowed being to raise his hands.

When you saw the figure turn from your bedroom window, lazily leaning his head back so his viridian gaze met yours, you dropped your gun.

It hit the floorboards with a metallic thud, and in a better context you would have held your breath, jumped away from the risk of a bullet discharging from the fall. But you were motionless, staring at the apparition in front of you. That was what he felt like. A ghost, conjured from beyond the veil.

"Eren." You said it like one calls to the dead, your voice shaky and unconfident. But brimming, with hope. With fear.

"I come all this way to see you, and your first reaction is to shoot me?" He murmured, his rich voice creeping through the dark to find the holes in your heart.

 Moth bitten, hung up in a closet and forgotten, you had lost the memory of the pain and euphoria that Eren brought you. But you could feel it now, searing your chest.

"You deserve worse. Months. It's been months." The words tumbled from your throat as you fought the urge to cry. "I didn't know where you were. For months. And they won't tell me what what happened, no one will." You felt like a child, choking on your words as your hands bunched into fists. The only thing you knew is that you were meant to raise the alarm as soon as you saw him. But you couldn't. Not for him. You wanted to fall to your knees, to see how he'd rush across the room to gather you in his arms.

"You don't want me to answer that truthfully." He moved from the windowsill, feet silently hitting the ground as he faced you completely.

You didn't recognize him. Those were the eyes of your lover, those the lips you kissed, the brow you rested yours upon. The man who was once the boy you slept beside, you fought beside, you grew beside. The face you had seen overcome with passion, with pain and glory. But he was stoic, as grey as the three walls. You had felt him slipping before Marley, but now?

Even though he was in the same room, breathing your air, he felt gone.

"I do. I know you're the one who pushed me onto this duty, you made Hisu call for me, and for what? To keep me stupid and ignorant?" You spat the words at his feet, and it made him bristle.

"To protect you, why else? This stupid farm house is the safest place on the island. Safer than any of the walls, or the inner castle, or-"

"Safer than with you?"

That touched him. The repetition of his vow, that as long as you were by his side you would come to no harm. That he would hold you with his heart and protect you with his life. As long as you stayed within reach of him.

"Yes. Safer than with me. So much safer." He didn't want that to be true. He wanted to be where you belonged.

But he needed to make the world safe for you.

"I needed to make sure you were taken care of, that I could do the things I was meant to do without risking you." He crossed his arms in front of his body, and the tone of his voice bordered on petulant. But despite his stoic face, you could tell he was nervous. The clench of his jaw, how his eyes looked past you instead of at you. This wasn't a man who had forgone emotions. Just a mask.

Maybe that was your Eren after all.

"I know you hate me-"

"I don't hate you." You cut him off sharply, reaching up to touch the pendant at your throat. It was a piece of sea glass, tumbled by the waves to the colour of his eyes. You had picked it up on a beach patrol, and told him how it matched him perfectly. He had stolen it out of your pocket that night and fashioned a cage with stolen wire. The next morning it hung from the leather cord his father's key once did, and found its permanent home upon your neck.

He told you it was his eye and his heart, and to keep watch over it as he kept watch over you.

He had been so gentle. You remembered how the sea breeze rustled the hair, grown to the nape of his neck, how he had given you a smile that had become so rare. He had known then that the boat would be returning without him.

"I don't hate you even if I want to. I never could. I... I miss you." The dam in your throat broke as you hiccuped a single sob. And the dam in his face broke, eyebrows upturned with remorse.

He had made you cry. 

"No, no, no." He murmured, crossing the floor to take you in his arms. He was taller, his body somehow even more wiry than when he had left. Toughened by hardship. But the way his fingers curled around the back of your head, the way his arm wrapped around your waist. That was how he held you. How he always had. The familiarity made you weak, and you clung to him desperately, fists mangling the fabric of his shirt as you buried your face against him.

"Y/n." He said it through gritted teeth, and then repeated it. And then again.

You thought back to every time you had embraced after being apart. The sound of his feet pounding the stone of Wall Maria to throw his arms around you, his cries of your name loud enough to send birds flying. How he had whispered your name when you saw him after Shiganshina, his face buried in the crook of your neck and the weight of the world suddenly so much more heavy upon his shoulders.

"Eren." You reached up, taking his face delicately in your hands. His malachite gaze was wide, wild with desperation and hurt. "What happened to you, 'ren?" You asked, and his eyes shut tightly. "What did you do?"

"Please. Don't ask me. I'll answer to God, but I can't answer to you."

You could have pressed. He would have given up, at least... The Eren who loved you a lifetime ago would have. But the darkness in his mouth when he pressed his lips to your forehead convinced you not to.

He had followed you so diligently when you were young. Seeking the peace he had somehow found in you. And as you pulled him towards your lips, you knew it was that same comfort he was searching for. Peace, amongst his life of nothing but war. So you kissed serenity onto his lips, knowing that this may be the last taste of it he would ever have.

He groaned softly against your mouth, still for a moment before pressing into the touch. His fingers were gentle as they brought you closer, and closer still. Tugging at your hips, your shoulders, your hair, coiling around your neck. He was rediscovering you, reminding himself of the map of your body. It was like he was finding his way home again.

"I missed you. I thought about you, so much." He exhaled over your lips, and you tried to keep the welling of your tears from spilling over again. You had needed that. Needed to know that he still breathed for you. "Even when it hurt. I thought about you."

"I thought about you too." You whispered, stroking your hands through his silken hair. "I hoped... I didn't think it was smart, but I hoped. You would come to me."

Your hands traversed his chest and back, running down his shoulders and muscular arms. You grabbed his wrists, feeling the bump of your hair tie still upon it. He lifted for you to see, and you pressed a kiss to his hot skin, unable to hold back the tears anymore. You watered his skin with them. 

"See? I kept you with me. Always." his mouth was against your forehead, tendons in his wrist flexing. "I lost a lot of myself. But I never lost you."

You let out a choked whimper and he pressed his cheek to yours, murmuring your name softly. Finally your knees gave out, but his arms were vices around your waist, holding you as you leaned against him. But he came down with you, kneeling with you in the puddle of moonlight. It painted him white and black, his shadows so much deeper but where it graced him, he glowed.

"I'm sorry." You sighed into his shoulder, all but pawing at his back. "I just... Am I dreaming, Eren? Are you going to be gone when my eyes open in the morning?"

He didn't answer for a moment, face buried in your hair. "I'm real. This is real. I promise."

"Prove it." You whispered, turning your mouth to his ear like a bloom to sun. "I've had this nightmare, every night since you've left. Prove this isn't one."

His fingers curled around your upper arms as his eyes bore into yours. They were shadowed, haunted by things you knew you'd never know. "Tell me how. I'll do anything for you."

Almost, you wanted to correct him. He'd do almost anything for you.

"Love me."

"I do." He murmured, voice strained as he moved to cup your face, his thumb stroking across your lips. You parted them, inviting his digit to press against your tongue. His eyes widened slightly, and you saw something spark. It encouraged you to wrap your lips around him, suckling at his first knuckle. You let it pop from your mouth, dragging your tongue from his palm to the pad.

"Show me. Show me the way only you can." You spoke softly against his skin, and he let out a soft groan, from deep deep within his chest.

"Only me?" He whispered hoarsely, hands squeezing the sides of your face. You nodded as best as you could. "You haven't touched another since I've been gone?"

"Of course not. Since that first night, since that first kiss..." You gripped his wrists tightly, voice thick with emotions you couldn't name. "It's only been you, forever just you."

He kissed you like he wanted to consume you. Open mouthed, hot breath, all teeth and clawing fingers. You fell into him, letting him pull you up and push you towards your bed. You fell backwards, welcoming the soft mattress against your back. A stark contrast to his body, all hard lines and firm hands.

Eren's heat was enough to melt you. You didn't realise you had been so cold. Your legs wrapped around him, pulling his warmth further against your core. He grunted softly against your mouth, jutting his hips forward so you could feel how you made him.

Your lips trailed from his, kissing along the sharp line of his jaw, up to his ear. You didn't need to say anything into it, just your breath made him wild. He tore at your shirt, sending buttons flying across the room as the moonlight met your skin. In response you pulled at his, unhooking your legs to push at his pants. You wanted skin, you wanted bare vulnerable touch. You wanted to see the parts of him he kept hidden.

He never scarred. Your hands traced the unmarred landscape of his torso as he flexed underneath you. No matter what horrors his body faced, it would never leave a lasting impression on him. The titan in him assured that.

You wondered if it was the same for love, as your teeth pricked at his skin, making him shiver. You marked him, delicate and light. In the sun it would look like stepping stones, tracing the path of a lovers touch. If it would even last till morning.

But you loved him anyway, even if it was temporary.

"So beautiful." His voice was guttural, hands cupping your breasts after yanking your bra down. Your nipples didn't have time to harden under his thumb before his mouth was upon them, suckling gently. You gripped his chestnut hair in response, letting out a soft whine of pleasure that encouraged him to suck harder. He switched sides, leaving the cold air to caress the wetness at your precipice.

"I can hear your heartbeat" he murmured, pausing for a moment to press himself against your flesh. "It's so fast."

Your nails traced vows on the back of his neck, down his back as far as you could reach. "You make me like this." You whispered, and his teeth sunk into your skin, making your back arch. "You scare me. You turn me on. You make my head dizzy and my st-stomach fill with butterflies." He stripped you as you spoke, pushing down the soft fabric of your pants, then the cotton of your panties. You felt the kiss of the cold night air for a moment, drifting through the window. And then his fingers were upon you, slowly stroking along your aching entrance and your slick lips.

"I make you wet." He murmured against your skin, and you flushed, nodding.

"Yes, you do." You responded, moving your hips along his hand, encouraging him. He obliged happily, digits wet with your desire now sliding into your hole. You had been so long neglected, not feeling the desire to even touch yourself without him there to see. He could feel your tightness, how you gripped his fingers.

"My sweetheart," he purred, lifting his face to gaze up at you. His eyes were heavy lidded, almost hiding the jade irises that haunted your dreams. "You're so tight, spread your legs." You obeyed him as easily as breathing, opening your legs as he began to kiss his way further down. You whined again, and his fingers gripped your thighs, forcefully enough to close them slightly.

"The fucking noises you make..." He hissed, breath hot against your pussy. He dragged a tongue from the bottom, to the very top, glancing off of your clit in a way that made you cry out. "I want you to keep quiet so we don't get caught but..." Another languid lick, another lewd gasp. "I want to make you scream too."

Your hand came down hard on the back of his head, gripping his hair tightly. He groaned against you, sending vibrations through you. You didn't mean to be hard, to have tugged so roughly. But Eren loved it, eyes glinting as he sank his tongue into you, letting your plush walls envelope the muscle eagerly. Each time your hand twitched, responding to the waves of pleasure he drew from you, you'd pull more. And it would drive him forward, tongue sliding across your lips desperately, lips closing around your clit to suckle at it.

Your body was uncontrollable, hips lifting from the bed and chest heaving. At points it felt like he was drinking from you, loud slurps as he thumbed your clit. The movement repeated, becoming faster and faster. The pleasure mounted, a  knot tightened where his tongue touched you.

"Do it." He purred against you, feeling how your legs trembled and thighs touched his ears. He knew you, knew what every jerk of your body meant. "On my tongue, want to taste you."

That was what made the bud burst, your hips rocking desperately against him as your pussy fluttered, overcome with its first orgasm in months. It coursed through you, and you felt the bed wet with your love. 

Your toes curled with pleasure and you moved onto your elbows, staring down at him.

"Eren," you whimpered, and his eyes opened once more. From your vantage point you could see how his hips moved, thrusting slowly against the mattress. He was as desperate for you as you were for him."Eren I need you. I need you so bad." With a final pop of your clit, one that made you gasp, he pulled back and straightened up. His cock bobbed as he looked at you, eyes filled with a dangerous mixture of love and lust. He was dripping, your wetness from his chin and his pre-cum from his mushroom head.

"How badly?"

You brought your legs to your chest slowly, and his eyes dropped from your face to your heat. Your hole closed around emptiness, so desperate to be filled. "More than anything."

His fist closed around his shaft, stroking slightly as he stared at you with a slack jaw, face softened with awe. He always looked at you as though you hung the moon. As if you were responsible for everything soft and wonderful in the world. You watched as he touched himself and his mouth twisted into a grin.

"Did this..." He whispered, his hand moving faster, the noises filling the room. They were hot, lewd. The hot slick of his skin, your moans rising to meet it. "Did this when I thought of you."

The thought of him, so far away from you, deep in trouble but still overcome by his want, the aching need of you. It was enough to make you gush visibly, and Eren moaned at the sight. Before you had the chance to beg again he was at your entrance, hands pushing on the backs of your thighs. You pulled at him, bringing him to your lips so you could kiss your moans into his mouth.

Because the moment he started pushing, moan you did. Loud and desperate, feeling how he spread you. How he made you stretch to fit him like a glove.

He was mumbling in your ear, alternating between sweet calls of your name and darkened swears. Your nails dragged down his back, digging into his smooth skin and making steam rise. His hips were slow, but only for a moment. The need took over quickly, and you bucked to meet him as best as you could. But he was long, long enough to make you start each time he bottomed out in you.

"Eren, Eren, Eren," you whispered into the dark, each iteration becoming more and more sloppy. He grabbed your face, pulling himself up so he could stare at you. Sweat beaded on his elegant forehead, his long hair slicked back. But his eyes glowed in the lowlight, focusing on your face as though nothing but you existed.

He pounded you in time with your chants, each drill concentrated on getting as much of himself into you as he could. He filled your needy hole like he filled your heart. Wholly, fully. Enough to make your eyes well with tears.

He caught one that trickled down the side of your face, lapping it up with his long tongue. You gasped for air, twisting his hair in your fingers as legs wrapped around him desperately. You wanted to stay like this, stay connected to him forever. His hands traversed you, finding the places he had made home. The curve of your waist, the precipice of your hips, the valley under your ass as he pulled you up further, hitting you now at an angle that dragged across the nub on your inner wall.

And then he lifted you, pulling back to sit on his heels and to suspend you in his arms. You grasped his face as you looked down at him, your hair falling like a curtain. Hiding him from the world, the world that would take him from you. He was beautiful. All wild eyes, soft pouting lips. His fine features were shadowed, his expression twisted with pleasure. You kissed him, once. Twice. Three times. Each time deeper.

Stay here.

You wanted to say as he began to bounce you, sliding you upon his length, fingers digging into the soft plush of your ass.

Stay here, we can be okay.

His mouth was hot on your neck and shoulders, leaving bruises that you worried would outlast him.

Stay here, I can love you safe here.

But all that came out of your mouth was a keening moan, your walls fluttering as you came like a river, washing over him. Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, the wave of euphoria making you tremble and making him growl. He bite your shoulder, drawing soft droplets of blood, and you felt his hips stutter, and the telltale wetness that heralded his own cum. Filling you, as it should. He moaned, vulnerable and wanton into your shoulder.

"That's fucking it, baby. Cream on my cock." He cooed, his pace unrelenting as he fucked you through both of your orgasms. You were relieved when he let you fall back onto the bed, eyes opening to pull in for a kiss.

But he didn't stop.

"Er-eren..." You whimpered, and he kissed you hard, enough to bruise the pulp of your lip.

"Hold on... Hold on to me..." He whispered, teeth dragging across your sensitive flesh. You obliged, throwing your arms around his neck, legs circling him and pulling him in to the hilt. He pulled back, snapping in quickly, his pace sloppy and hurried.

"Need more...need more of you and I..." A gasp, a throb from deep within you. "need to give you all of me."

You were seeing stars. Bursting across your vision like supernovas. Though your limbs clung to him, the pleasure grew almost unbearable. A burning fire twisting between your legs, making you jerk and throb. It's like you could feel him in ways you never could.

The drip of his sweat, watering the forgotten lands of your body. The way his skin soothed yours, healing empty wounds. How his hair shifted, a lock falling to caress your cheek.

And his heartbeat. You felt it. Inside you, beating as though it was your own. The sensation drove you wild, clawing at his shoulders and yanking at his ochre locks.

"Gonna- it's gonna..." You whimpered, unable to form coherence. He drove into you faster, nodding against you. You were reduced to a babbling mess, eyes rolled back, mouth slack.

"Yeah, yeah baby yeah me too. Gonna cum in you again. Take it, take me. Take it all." He said, his voice thick with lust as he clawed into you, the slam of his hips hitting you in the most unimaginable of ways. He reared back suddenly, gripping your face hard enough to hurt as he placed his brow to yours.

"I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too." You replied, and with that you were both over the cliff, bodies shaking with pleasure. He filled you, his hot cum spurting from the slight space between you. His hand slammed against the head board, chest heaving, hips stuttering. But his eyes never left yours, gaze glazed with pleasure. His weight collapsed against you, and you cradled him, murmuring as his lips pressed to yours.

"Say it again." He demanded, hand moving to cup your cheek. "Say you love me."

"I love you." You turned your head to kiss his palm. "I love you, Eren. I love you."

He let out a soft sound, resting his mouth against your cheek. "More." He demanded, rolling over now and pulling you with him. His arms caged you, in a way that made you never want to be free. "I want a lifetimes worth."

"I'll give you a few months." You muttered, and could feel him smile against the top of your head. You wondered when was the last time he did that. When would be the next. "Just to catch you up." His hands stroked through your hair, teasing knots from it. You laid your ear flat to his toned chest. "You'll have to get the rest next time." His hand faltered and then tightened, pushing you into him. You could hear his heart pick up speed.

"Y/n-"

"Don't." You interrupted him. It was sharper than you intended, but you thought you had the right to it. "Don't say a word."

He went silent, resuming his grooming of your locks.

"Tell me we'll see each other again. Even if it's for a moment. Just once more. I don't want this to be it." His hands flattened on your back as he held you.

"I promise." He murmured. "We'll see each other again. But by then you'll hate me."

You didn't argue. Somehow you knew.

"For now, I love you." You pulled yourself to him, kissing his mouth with sweetness. You whispered it, over and over. Like a promise. Like a prayer. You said until your voice was hoarse, curled up on your side as his body surrounded you. You fell asleep with it on your tongue.

And you woke up to an empty bed.

[needtherapy]

Jiujiu Gets A Puppy

Wei Wuxian wants to get Jiang Cheng a gift.

He’s trying to be brave, okay? And no one can be afraid of dogs forever. Have you SEEN puppies?

There’s now a part 2! Mao’er Makes A Friend

Read more Kristina Writes Tiny Stories

“Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to do this.” Wei Wuxian knew he was whining and hoped it worked.

It did not. 

“This was your idea,” Lan Zhan reminded him implacably. He continued to move up the stairs at an unnecessarily brisk pace, in Wei Wuxian’s opinion.

“It was a terrible idea. Why do we let me have ideas?” Wei Wuxian tugged Lan Zhan’s sleeve. 

“It is a good idea. A kind and thoughtful idea because you are a kind and thoughtful man.” 

Instead of pausing, Lan Zhan moved his arm around Wei Wuxian’s waist and propelled him forward.

“That’s not true. Ask anyone.”

Finally, Lan Zhan stopped. “Wei Ying. Do you truly want to leave?”

The genuine concern in his voice made Wei Wuxian feel guilty. He switched tactics.

“Why do I have to do it myself? Couldn’t we just have Jin Ling pick one out and send it to Jiang Cheng with our compliments?” He thought this was a particularly good plan, but Lan Zhan shook his head.

“Jin Ling said if you pick it out yourself, you will be less likely to be afraid when it grows up.”

“What if I’m afraid of it now?” The whining was back, and this time he actually meant it. The thought of going near a slobbering toothy monster weighed like a heavy stone in his gut.

“Wei Ying.” This time Lan Zhan’s voice was soft and soothing. He took Wei Wuxian’s hand and pulled him up the last stair. “They were only born a week ago. Jin Ling says you will be safe.”

Wei Wuxian snorted. “What does he know? He’s a child.”

“Thanks, da-jiu.” The young man striding toward them had a frown on his face. “Now I am sorry I left the rest of my dogs inside.”

Attempting to distract Jin Ling from that terrifying thought, Wei Wuxian laughed and bypassed propriety, folding his nephew into an enthusiastic hug. Jin Ling accepted it for a brief moment, having learned it was hopeless to argue, before pushing Wei Wuxian away.

“Come on, then. Even you can’t hate a newborn puppy.”

Wei Wuxian hesitated, but his traitorous husband followed Jin Ling across the plaza, and eventually Wei Wuxian had to jog to catch up.

To his surprise, they didn’t go to the dog yards behind the stables. One of the first things Jin Ling had done after officially being named the Lanling Jin zongzhu was to start getting dogs. It had seriously made Wei Wuxian doubt his nephew’s sanity, but he had to admit, it was nice of Jin Ling to build the low, tidy buildings to keep the dogs when Wei Wuxian visited. The gesture had made for a peaceful three years of visits.

Instead, they headed through one of the inner courtyards of Lanling Tower to the guest quarters that were set aside for his and Lan Zhan’s use. 

“We can only stay for a few minutes. They’re too young to be away from their mother for very long and I thought you’d rather not encounter a full grown dog,” Jin Ling explained as they entered the room, and Wei Wuxian looked at him suspiciously, the words sounding a bit too much like mocking.

There was a huge wooden box in the center of their room and it was making noise. A squeaking noise. Wei Wuxian decided he would be fine here by the door, but he didn’t get a choice.

“I know you’re rolling your eyes,” he complained when Lan Zhan tucked an arm around Wei Wuxian’s elbow and dragged him forward.

“Da-jiu, just sit here,” Jin Ling said, gesturing to a wide cushion on the floor. “I’ll bring you a puppy.”

“Lan Zhan, just sit here,” Wei Wuxian said, gesturing to the cushion, and without rolling his eyes, Lan Zhan did, letting Wei Wuxian settle in front of him.

He knew it was foolish, to be a grown man afraid of dogs. He had fallen from the sky into hell. He had died. He had watched so many people he loved leave him and yet it was always the sound of barking, the expected flash of teeth, the feral eyes that made reason abandon him. He scooted backward until he ran into Lan Zhan. 

Lan Zhan. 

Lan Zhan. 

He repeated the name over and over in his head, a calming mantra, while he watched Jin Ling. His nephew’s face looked completely different crouched next to the box. He was softer, his mouth tipped in a sweet smile, and Wei Wuxian could suddenly imagine him as a toddler. Or a child, being handed his first dog by his uncle, and Wei Wuxian was suddenly sorry that it hadn’t been him.

And then Jin Ling was sitting in front of him, and Wei Wuxian felt Lan Zhan’s steading hand in the middle of his back.

“Their eyes are just starting to open, but this one’s hasn’t yet,” Jin Ling told Wei Wuxian, holding out his cupped hands.

Wei Wuxian didn’t really want to touch it, but he couldn’t help it. It was so small, it could hardly be called a dog at all. It made a strange grunting noise when he touched its nose, and he jumped, looking at Jin Ling with worry.

“Is it okay? Should it make that noise?”

Jin Ling was clearly making an effort to be patient. “She’s fine. She’s just a baby. Puppies are hungry all the time, so anytime you touch their face, they think you’re going to feed them. I’m going to hand her to you now, okay? Please don’t drop my puppy.”

Oh, that was a bad idea. That was a much worse idea. He tried to say no, but Lan Zhan interrupted him.

“Hold the puppy, Wei Ying, and I will hold your hands.”

Jin Ling slid the puppy into Wei Wuxian’s cupped hands, supported by Lan Zhan’s hands, and it made the noise again, this time accompanied by wiggling on his palms like a fat furry fish. He could feel her tiny toes digging into his skin, but it didn’t hurt, just tickled. He looked at Jin Ling, who was hiding a smile.

Wei Wuxian held the puppy up a little higher and peered into her black and white face. As Jin Ling had said, her eyes were closed, and her ears were barely even triangles. She had a pink nose with a black smudge under it, right above her frowning mouth.

“She has eyebrows,” Wei Wuxian said in surprise. “And a mustache.”

Lan Zhan moved his hand to pet the puppy’s back and she squirmed again, grunting and crying, tracking the touch with her wobbly head. Wei Wuxian felt Lan Zhan’s delighted inhale, and he gave in a little. He was not going to admit out loud that the puppy was cute, but she was. She was very cute. He wanted to sniff the puppy and pet her nose again, but before he could make a complete fool of himself, Jin Ling moved to take her back, returning her to the box.

“Well, da-jiu? Still scared?”

“They grow up,” Wei Wuxian argued, without answering the question. “They grow up and bite.” “Not if you raise them well and give them love,” Jin Ling retorted. “Only if you starve them and treat them badly. Are you planning to starve and abuse the puppy?” Wei Wuxian glared at Jin Ling, who glared back before raising his eyebrows and laughing.

“You like her! Da-jiu, I’m proud of you. Come look at all of them.”

He was being condescended to by a child, Wei Wuxian thought, but he didn’t resist when Jin Ling grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the box to stare down at five wriggling potatoes. They were all different colors, from the black and white one he had held to one that was almost completely white. One rolled on its back, exposing a spotted belly, and it snorted irritably until Jin Ling turned it back over.

“Next time you come, you can pet one of the other ones. They should all have their eyes open by then. Hanguang-Jun, will you make sure he comes back every week until they’re ready to go to new homes? It should be about four months.” “Four months?” Wei Wuxian yelped, but Jin Ling would not be dissuaded.

“Four,” he said firmly. “They’ll be weaned and trained by then. I won’t let you give one of my dogs to jiujiu until it’s been properly trained.”

“I always knew you’d be a tyrant,” Wei Wuxian muttered, following Lan Zhan back out into the courtyard.

“Well, then you shouldn’t have saved my life,” his nephew reminded him cheerfully.

Wei Wuxian turned to grab Jin Ling’s arm, remembering something serious. “Jin Ling, don’t tell Jiang Cheng. If...if I can’t do it...when they get bigger...I don’t want him to be disappointed.”

Jin Ling looked at him with his mother’s face when he patted Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “I won’t. But you won’t disappoint him.”

It was daunting to have Jin Ling have such faith and trust in him, and Wei Wuxian took a deep breath.

“Fine. I’ll be back.”

Wei Wuxian was quiet on the walk back down the tower stairs and when they got to the bottom, Lan Zhan stopped him, angling his head curiously, waiting for Wei Wuxian to say whatever it was he was thinking.

“Do you really think this is a good idea? Or will it just remind him of all the dogs he couldn’t have because of me?”

Lan Zhan’s forehead creased in consideration, and Wei Wuxian loved him for taking his question seriously. “Yes. It is a good idea. Moving forward is a good idea.”

When Wei Wuxian still didn’t look convinced, Lan Zhan sighed. “Do you want to walk or fly with me?”

The question got the response it intended. “Fly, please.”

“Does flying with me make you happy? Or does it remind you of all the times you could not?” Wei Wuxian narrowed his eyes. “Well, it didn’t until now,” he grumbled. “Fine, you’re right. It’s a good idea. Are we still going to fly home?”

In answer, Lan Zhan pulled him onto Bichen and Wei Wuxian wrapped his arms around Lan Zhan’s waist, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Are you proud of me too?” he whispered, not sure if Lan Zhan would hear him, but of course he did. He always did.

“Of course I am. I always am.”

And that was enough.

[soulmate-game]

This is an alternate ending for my Bio!dad Joker / Bio!mom Harley AU. Or really, the timeline itself will be entirely different starting from the moment that Marinette’s plane lands in Gotham. If you haven’t read the original, you can do so here.

—*—*—*—*—*

“He’s going to find out, Mom.”

“No he won’t, don’t be silly! I’ve been very careful about hiding you from him, Nettie-pie.”

“Mom… I just have a bad feeling. I don’t think we can hide who I am from him. If he sees me, I think he’ll know.”

The phone went silent.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. If I was crazy about him, Sugar, then I’m head over heels for you. Not even he can stop me from caving his skull in if he tries his usual tricks with you.”

“... My plane leaves soon, I’ll talk to you when I land. And mom?”

“Yeah, honeycake?”

“I love you.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette often hated how accurate her intuition tended to be. She had barely even stepped out of the airport before she had felt the prick of a needle in her neck and the sensation of being shoved into a small, dark space before her vision cut out.

Looks like her mom wasn’t able to hide her existence away as well as they thought.

And unfortunately for Marinette, her darling asshole of a father had apparently had ample time to plan his first meeting with her. If he had just used the much easier to acquire Chloroform on her, then Marinette likely would have woken up early enough to come up with a plan. Chloroform was unreliable and wore off fairly easily. But no, he had actually had the time to steal hospital grade anesthetic.

Which meant that Marinette woke up with her wrists zip-tied to heavy links of chain above her head, and her ankles connected to the chain below her with what felt like ten layers of duct tape.

Lovely.

“Ah, there she is! Good morning, sleepyhead!” Those were the high-pitched, dramatic words she heard when she came back to consciousness. She didn’t even need to open her eyes to know who the speaker was— she had watched enough videos online and not-so-legally obtained Asylum and Prison footage to immediately recognize the speech patterns and tone that was echoing around her.

Apparently keeping her eyes closed was not allowed, because it was only a few seconds later that Marinette felt a harsh slap sting her cheek and whip her face to the side. Oh, that would become a bruise without a doubt. Her teeth betrayed her, cutting into the inside of her mouth with the force of the hit. So, when Marinette opened her eyes to glare at the sperm donor responsible for half of her DNA, she aimed her bloody spit right at him. It landed on his shoe, which only a few seconds later slammed into her gut.

Marinette gasped for air even as the chain she was on swung violently, making her dizzy and upsetting her stomach. Too bad she didn’t have anything in there to throw up on him, she thought angrily. The chain links rattled loudly, ringing in her head alongside the electric pain of both of her newly forming bruises.

“Honestly, is that any way to treat your dear ol’ Daddy?” Joker cooed with false offense, one hand over his heart. Marinette glared at him as best as she could as she continued to sway in the open air, the chain she was tied to being the only thing keeping her from plunging straight down into a vat of sickly green, bubbling liquid.

Marinette didn’t need to be told what that liquid was. And joker knew that, the moment he saw her look down at that vat and saw the realization almost immediately cross her face. So instead of explaining, he laughed. Loud, high, and deranged.

“Good, good! That idiot Harley kept you educated, at least,” he said between psychotic chuckles. “Ah yes, and she somehow managed to choose the perfect name,” he glided over to her, as if he was some ethereal demon of chaos instead of a human. His paper-white hand reached out, grabbing her chin in a crushing grip and turning her face this way and that. Inspecting her as if she was a piece of china and not a living being. “So easy to adjust. Right now, you’re Marinette. Just like how, all those years ago, your mother stood here as Harleen. But just as she was dunked into acid and became my harlequin,” he stepped back and grabbed Marinette’s shoulders. He spun her like a top, making the metal chain creak and clink as it wound into a few weak coils and then released back out, trying to go straight again. It sent Marinette twirling through the air in a horrid half-spin, one-eighty degrees one way before sharply spinning to the other side. Joker laughed.

“Just like that, you’re gonna go from boring old Marinette,” he stuck out his tongue like a child, as if the mere taste of her name was bitter. “And you’ll be reborn as my new little Marionette. Aren’t you excited?!”

“Fuck you,” Marinette spat, even as she tried to blink and return her vision to normal. She was far too disoriented to even come up with a plan— but she was still coherent enough to register that the sky was dark outside the high windows of the factory she was apparently in. She had been missing for a few hours then, which meant that her mom and Momma Ivy would have called for help a long time ago. Maybe if she just stalled long enough, it would get there in time. “I’m not a puppet. Not for you, not for anybody!” She snarled.

Joker rolled his eyes, but his smile still widened. “Oh, that’s what they all say. In fact, your mother put up a good resistance there for a while, but her inner chaos couldn’t resist me. You’ll bend even easier, I have no doubt,” her ran his hand along her cheek in a motion that was so gentle that it felt foreign, wrong, to her coming from him. She knew what he was doing. He was trying to whiplash her, take all her hope away before dangling the option he wanted her to choose in front of her like a carrot on a stick.

Too bad he didn’t know her at all. She cringed away from his gentle touch, revolted by the mere feel of his skin on her’s.

“And your accent is a nice touch,” he cooed as if her reaction didn’t bother him at all. It probably didn’t. “Exotic. Just the thing I need to freshen up my usual act a bit, the Boston twang my old Harlequins had is just… stale by now, don’t you agree?”

Marinette clenched her jaw at the reminder that he had tried to pass off a cheap look-alike as her mom when she disappeared, back when she was pregnant with Marinette, to hide her baby from Joker. How he had discarded that woman like trash when Harley went back to him, only to replace her again when her mom left him for good.

No matter how badly Joker spoke of her mom, Marinette knew that Harley had been the only Harlequin of his to actually last. The only one he kept around, and there was a reason for that. Now, he was looking for another replacement. One that was more than a cheap knockoff, and he was hoping that a teenager with not only Harley’s genetics, but also his own, would be the exact kind of right-hand prop he wanted. An obedient little puppet of chaos, just for him.

But Marinette was nobody's toy. She had been used and taken advantage of enough back in Paris, she had spent her whole life struggling to escape the side effects of her parentage. To deal with the things she inherited.

The obsessiveness, the way she was so quick to get attached. She knew she inherited that from her mom. But there was also the rage, the anger that Marinette constantly had to stuff down. Hide below the surface before it hurt someone. Keep under a tight reign and hide away in the back of her mind, her own dirty little secret.

The constant reminder of just who her biological father was. Because that anger, that viciousness, could only have come from him.

She had spent her whole life trying to carve herself her own identity, to create beauty with the chaotic elements she got from her blood. And she couldn’t blame her mother, not really. Her mother at least did her best to help, and always leant an empathetic ear when Marinette needed it. But Joker?

Oh, she could, and would, blame him even long after he was dead and gone. Because he was the one who hurt her mother, he was the one who twisted her and drove her to feel unfit to be a parent. And sometimes, Marinette thought it would be better if Joker never existed. Sure, that meant she never would have been born. But wouldn’t that have been easier, too? To not ever have to experience the struggle that came with being his daughter, a title she never consented to?

But she couldn’t change the past. She was alive, and she would use her life to spite everything that the Joker stood for. That would be her revenge. He wanted a toy?

Joker had been monologuing, but Marinette drowned it all out as she kept her periphery vision on the windows above her. Shadows moved out there, with familiar bright yellows and shadowy blacks. The bats were there. She just needed to stall.

She opened her mouth. Joker pulled a lever.

Marinette dropped.

Wire whizzed through the air, knocking the breath out of Marinette as it wound around her torso. She was barely able to piece together what was happening; one of the bats shot a human-safe grapple to try and pull her away from the acid.

But the chain and her restraints were stronger, heavier, and just dragged the grapple down with her body.

The impact sent a large wave of sickly green liquid surging over the side of the vat, and Marinette was dragged from view underneath the surface.

It burned.

She distantly felt the tape around her ankles peel itself away from her skin, the combination of acid and wetness rendering it useless. She felt the chemicals burning at her, sending painful tingles across every last inch of her skin. It got in her mouth, she didn’t have any breath in her to hold and ended up swallowing some. It seared her throat and created a river of lava inside her. It hurt.

It hurt so bad, she just wanted out. Out. Out. Out!

Someone pull her out now!

The zip tie around her wrist loosened enough for her to pull herself free, right as something heavy slammed into the heavy metal bowl. The entire container sloshed, slamming to fall onto its side. Marinette’s body was pulled alongside the rush of liquid as it flowed out, and she was able to breathe air again. Sweet, cooling air.

And then she hacked up acid, spitting and spewing it in an attempt to purge every last drop she had accidentally ingested. Like a cat choking on a hairball, she coughed and hacked and her chest convulsed and contracted to try and help her. Her ribs ached, she figured that the grapple that had tried to save her had ended up fracturing or breaking a rib or two. But all she cared about was breathing and getting rid of the chemicals she had inhaled. She needed it out. All of it. Out. Out. Out of her!

“Try to take a deep breath,” a gruff voice commanded, soft but solid. Something stable for her to cling to. So she did as it asked, forcing herself to stop hacking and instead focus on inhaling. As slowly as she could. It was difficult, the first few breaths cut themselves off with more involuntary coughing, but the owner of the gruff voice stayed nearby. Repeated it’s request. “Deep breath. Steady, now. In. Out. Good.”

Marinette was just starting to calm down, just starting to claw herself out of the haze of panic and adrenaline, when that wretched laugh cut through the air again.

“There you are! Heheheheh! My cute little Marionette!”

Marinette froze. She could barely think, barely understand her own emotions. But she knew she was different now. She knew there was no way back, he had taken it from her. He had taken her normality, he had taken all of her years of hard work and burned them right in front of her.

He had won. The bats hadn’t been fast enough. But, if her foggy mind was correct, Batman was the one trying to bring her back to lucidity. Batman was the one trying to help her get air back in her lungs.

Not her so-called father.

If he wanted a toy, she’d be a haunted doll. She’d harass him, haunt him, until he wanted nothing to do with her. She’d come back, like a possessed porcelain doll refusing to be thrown away. She would make him regret ever awakening the monster that she had spent so long forcing down. Because she was her father’s daughter, yes. But she was also her mother’s daughter.

And most importantly, she was Marinette Quinzel-Isley. Her own damned person. The Chosen wielder of the Creation miraculous. And she would never bow down and be used by anyone, ever again.

Tikki’s words from so long ago echoed in her mind. Resounded even louder than Joker’s laughter;

“That’s all order really is, Marinette. The decision to take all the chaos and madness around us, and make it make sense. Make it do something good.”

And wasn’t that everything Marinette had ever done? It was a part of her now. Like a tattoo she had inked into her very soul.

She took the chaos she was given, and turned it into something beautiful. And right now? Right now, the most beautiful thing she could think of was Joker’s face when she slammed her fist into it.

“Easy,” Batman repeated, but for a different reason now. Marinette’s lungs still stuttered a little, but her breathing was mostly under control. Now, he was saying it because Marinette was forcing herself to her feet. Her legs trembled under her, threatening to lay her out on the floor again. But she was every bit as stubborn as Joker, which made for a terrifying combination with her all-consuming fury. The acid had broken the mental chains Marinette had been using to hold it back, and now it burned fierce and bright in her eyes.

So Marinette kept herself up right, cognizant of Batman’s hand on her shoulder but ignoring it. She grit her teeth against the burning light of the room, everything suddenly too bright and colorful. Too vibrant. But it did little to distract her. She realized that one of her hands still gripped the heavy chain that had sent her drowning in the acid, and sent a snarl at her darling, jackass of a father as she whipped it out right towards him.

“Marinette!” Batman yelled, his grip tightening on her shoulder. But he didn’t pull her back, which spoke louder than any words he could have said to her right then. He wouldn’t save Joker from his daughter, he knew the man deserved at least this much pain. And sure enough, the metal links slammed right into Joker’s side, winding around him like a crushing whip.

But that was all Marinette had the strength to do. As soon as she saw Joker’s body hit the floor, writhing in agony and painfully loud cackles, her hand let go of the chain and her body tumbled down. Batman caught her.

“Red Hood, Nightwing, get Joker back to Arkham,” Batman’s order faded in and out of focus. Now that her most pressing desire was taken care of, the effects of the acid reared their ugly heads with renewed ferocity. Everything was too bright, too loud, and her thoughts echoed in her head like voices wrestling for supremacy. “Robin, Black Bat, stay on alert. Harley said that she’s incredibly trained,” he warned his partners. Marinette didn’t begrudge him, the only other two people who had survived being dunked into those chemicals hadn’t exactly treated him with kindness and pacifism. But she could barely focus on them anyway, too distracted by trying to reign in the chaos in her mind.

But Joker would never stay silent, even as he was dragged away in chains.

“Hehehahahahaha! Paper white, paper white!” He jeered cheerfully. “That’s my girl! Violent just like Papa!” Red hood knocked him out with a harsh punch to the side of his neck before he could say another word. But it was enough— enough for Marinette to gasp in realization.

Her skin. It was paper white, just like his. Not even Harley’s skin had been bleached like the Joker’s after her dip in the acid. That had always been makeup. Her mom had a healthy, peachy complexion like anyone else. A complexion Marinette had shared— until now. Now, she was unhealthily pale. Just like him.

A painful screech tore itself from her already raw throat, and Marinette’s fingernails immediately began to tear at her own skin. Red. Red was better than white— she didn’t want to look like him. She couldn’t. White was bad. Bad. Bad. Bad.

“Marinette! Stop!” Strong hands clamped around her wrists, pulling her hands away from herself even as she wriggled and tried to keep clawing at herself.

“No! No no no!” Marinette howled. “I don’t wanna look like him! I don’t wanna be like him!” She managed to get one hand free and immediately tried to tear away at her face. Batman was able to wrestle her arm away before she could do any damage besides a few angry red lines. “I refuse! I refuse! I refuse!” She shook her head, not feeling as tears flung themselves off her cheeks.

“Okay,” Batman’s voice was solid again, soft and grumbly and stable. She grabbed at it again, drawn to anything that might help bring her stability. She needed his unflappable attitude right then, and he probably didn’t even realize how badly. “That’s good. But you don’t need to rip your skin off to do that, you know that right?”

Marinette hiccuped, finally sinking down to sob as the weight of everything she had lost pressed down over the chaos of deafening light and blinding sound that continued to jumble around inside her head. “He changed me,” she choked out. Batman nodded even though she wasn’t looking at him.

“He did.”

“Th-that f-fucking bastard,” Marinette managed a sad chuckle before devolving right back into sobs. “I wo-worked so h-hard. N-never hurt any-anybody. Never… never yelled. Ne-never hit… Not people who didn’t attack f-first.”

“I know. Your mom told me,” he confirmed calmly. Solid, tethering. Marinette swallowed another gulp of air, trying to calm down. But everything was too much.

“Mom!” She suddenly realized out loud, turning and grabbing at Batman’s chest, clinging to his uniform. She didn’t even care that she almost sliced herself on a batarang, she clung to him desperately with wide, crazed eyes. “G-get Mom and… and Ivy! They… they can help. They know—“ Marinette paused to breathe, then resumed. “Momma Ivy— she gave me—gave me a diluted… th-thingy, years ago, I can’t remember—“ Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to get her mind to calm down. To work.

“The serum she gave Harley?” He asked. “The one that made her immune to poisons, and gave her increased physical abilities?”

“That!” Marinette agreed frantically, nodding. “I was too— too little, to give the real thing, so she diluted it,” she swallowed her spit and winced when it burned her throat. “It… I think it’s helping with the—the—the—“

“The chemical’s effects?” Batman suddenly sounded like he was paying much more attention than before, his shoulders a little straighter at her explanation. “You think it’s slowing down or numbing what it did to your mom and Joker?” Marinette couldn’t talk anymore, it hurt too much. Everything hurt too much, so she just nodded. “Good. That’s good, Marinette. Robin! Get Harley and Ivy down here, now!”

That was when the voices started. Sometime during the ten minutes it took to get her Mom and Ivy to her, they had apparently been waiting nearby anxiously incase the Bats had needed backup, the voices had built from ominous whispers to devious shouts, ordering her to do things like slam her elbow into Batman’s throat or see what happened if she splashed Robin with some of the acid that was still on the ground.

Her body didn’t move. She kept herself carefully still, focusing on ignoring her impulse to listen to one of the voices. She was still lucid enough to know that she would regret it if she did any of that. That the Bats were more on her side than any of the voices or the Joker were. But it was growing painful, and Harley and Ivy walked in to Batman trying to keep Marinette from hitting her own head. She had devolved to trying to knock herself out to get the voices to be quiet.

“Shut up,” she hissed, her voice hoarse and gravelly. “Shut up, shut up, shut. Up!” She was clearly talking to herself, her eyes screwed shut as she continued to try and hit her head. Harley gasped, hands flying to her mouth and eyes watering at the sight. This was something she had hoped she would never see.

“Harls,” Ivy spoke softly, putting a gentle arm around her wife’s back in support. It hurt Ivy to see Marinette in so much agony, but she knew it pained Harley even more. And much more personally. “Come on. We can help.”

“Y-you’re right,” Harley agreed shakily, taking a deep breath to try and compose herself before they both approached their daughter. Batman didn’t let go of Marinette, but did lean out of the way to give them access to her.

“Honeycake?” Harley called out softly, a little unsure how the chemicals were affecting her baby’s personality right then. The first few days were going to be the worst, and she knew that. The Dunk never took it easy on it’s victims. Marinette gasped, stopping her muttering and raising her head to look at Harley with wide eyes.

“Momma?”

Harley had to swallow heavily to shove back the sob that wanted to bubble up out of her. She had to be strong for her baby. She couldn’t break yet. But Marinette hadn’t called her Momma since she was little, now she called Pamela ‘Momma Ivy’ and her just ‘Mom’.

“It’s me, sugarplum,” she assured her daughter, kneeling down and cupping one of Marinette’s cheeks in her palm. And that was when she noticed it, and couldn’t help but widen her eyes in shock. But Marinette’s senses were so sensitive that she noticed it right away, and stiffened.

“Wh-what is it?” She grew frantic when Harley didn’t immediately respond, only winced in sympathy. Marinette knew that wasn’t good. “Mom? What is it? What did he do? What else did he do to me?”

“Darling,” Harley started, licking her lips nervously. “My sweet baby girl, your right eye… it’s green now, sugar.”

Marinette’s world froze. She tried to smile, but it came out lopsided and disbelieving. “No,” she somehow managed to breathe. “No, mom, I have your eyes. Your blue eyes. I love your eyes,” Her voice steadily got more and more panicked as she went on, not wanting to accept what her mother was clearly seeing. She watched as Harley’s face broke a little, a few tears escaping before the older woman could stop them. Marinette shook her head again, slipping her tiny wrist out of Batman’s hold and raising it to her eye. “No. It’s one of his tricks. He—he must have slipped a contact in my eye when I was passed out, that’s— that’s— that’s all—“ but her fingertip met her normal eye. No contact to be felt. Marinette’s hand fell into her lap limply. The room was absolutely silent as everyone gave her a few seconds to process just how much she had been changed, entirely against her will. She opened and closed her mouth, not sure whether she wanted to yell or curse or cry. Instead, her voice just came out in a very tiny, broken:

“...fuck.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette had gone mostly mute. She would say a word here or there, but for the most part she was doing a good impression of a vegetable. She stayed silent, as still as possible, and just stared at the ceiling of her hospital room.

She had been like that for the past two weeks they had been monitoring her in the Acid’s aftermath. Her ribs, which had turned out to only be bruised thankfully enough, had healed. Her cheek and torso were healed up too, only the barest hint of sickly yellow to show as a reminder of Joker’s hits on her. Sometimes the cameras would catch her talking to seemingly empty air, only for a nurse to rush in and see that Marinette had gone silent yet again.

Tikki was doing her best to help. She had been separated from Marinette, but Pamela had found Marinette’s purse and returned it— and subsequently Tikki— when they had gotten her to the hospital. She was the only person Marinette regularly spoke to, because Marinette knew Tikki understood. Tikki had been around since the Big Bang, she had seen worse things than a little insanity. Tikki had always been there to help her feel at ease with her mind and body. She shared a piece of Tikki’s soul, even, according to the tiny god.

But talking to anyone else was too hard. Too scary. She still had those damned voices at war in her mind, trying to convince her to do things that made her lock her joints and keep her body absolutely still before she acted on any of the coaxes. Possibilities she had never considered before came startlingly easy to her mind now— like how it would only take two seconds to tear her IV out and stab it into her nurse’s eye. How she could use her blanket to strangle Momma Ivy, or how she could fake jumping out the window and Harley wouldn’t waste a second trying to save her.

They were horrible thoughts. Intrusive, ugly, and far too loud. She didn’t want to act on any of them, but sometimes she found her fingers twitching only a second before she could follow through on one.

She spent a lot of time meditating, because of it. Which is why most people thought she was ignoring them. She didn’t mean to, she just needed to meditate. It was like her brain was a giant room filled with filing cabinets that held her thoughts and emotions. Her whole life, Marinette had carefully kept this room alphabetized, organized, and neat. Every file in its correct drawer. Until Joker had come along, and ripped the entire place apart. Tore certain files in half, broke her cabinets, ruined her filing system. And now she had to put the room back together, one drawer and piece of paper at a time.

That’s what the meditation was doing. She was getting reacquainted with herself. Learning what had changed in her mind and trying to adjust. She couldn’t be the old Marinette anymore, but she’d be damned if she let the Joker turn her into someone ugly like him.

So she needed time.

One day, towards the end of those two weeks, she got a visitor slipping through her window. Considering her room was on the tenth floor, she had it pretty narrowed down as to who it could be. Batman had visited her every night, a silent shadow in the corner, but he had already left for the day so it couldn’t be him. None of the other bats had dropped by after the second day.

She turned her head to see that that was now changed; Red Hood sat on her windowsill with one leg inside the room and the other bent on the sill itself. He looked the very picture of comfort despite being a stiff wind (or quick shove— no, bad brain) away from falling to his death. And then Hood took off his helmet, which was ugly enough to inspire some of the more violent suggestions in her brain and make them seem appealing.

“Ya know. Red Hood used to be what Joker called himself,” were the first words out of the vigilante’s mouth. Marinette’s eyebrows pulled down, and it was clear she was confused (and a little angry) at what he told her. He grinned, his eyes still hidden by the domino mask on his face. “Eh. The bastard killed me, ya know. I was the second Robin, a lifetime ago.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at that, and the violent voices dimmed and seemed to grow muffled. Marinette couldn’t quite understand what they were trying to tell her anymore, which made her figure that she had better pay attention to what Hood had to say. She licked her dry lips, and spoke softly. Her throat was still damaged from the acid, so she couldn’t speak very loudly yet.

“Then how are you… you know, here?”

The man chuckled. “Another group of assholes happens to have a magic pit in their basement. It’s a glowing green lake, ten different types of bad news. But it brings people back to life, and they dunked me in it without even caring for a second if I even wanted to come back.”

Marinette’s shoulders relaxed all on their own. It seemed to sink into her brain all at once, a simple:

Oh. He gets it.

“I guess the water doesn’t take it easy on your brain, either?” She hazarded an educated guess. He laughed, shaking his head.

“Not at all. I went off the deep end for a while, and killed a lotta people. They deserved it at least, but I don’t like how violent I was back then. Before I learned how to cope. Attacked people who were innocent. Red Robin almost died when I attacked him, back then, when he was just Robin.”

“Then why’d you keep calling yourself Red Hood?” She asked, tilting her head. He finally turned his head to look straight at her instead of just staring out the window. His grin widened, but it was lopsided. The grin of someone who was healed from some serious shit, but knew that it would always ache. A bittersweet expression.

“Cuz he doesn’t own that name. I made it into something that stands for at least a little good. Something that scares the assholes who don’t care about killing or abusing innocent people. Hell, some people take comfort in the name Red Hood now. And you know what that means?”

Marinette shook her head, and his grin widened into a shark-like smile.

“It means I stole it from him. The name Red Hood. He’ll never use it again, and now it stands for the opposite of anything he’d agree with. You can do that too, you know. Find something to steal from him, or use something he gave you, and make it your own.”

“Turn the chaos into something good,” Marinette said dreamily, clearly quoting someone. Red Hood nodded.

“Exactly. It’s not gonna be easy, but you got the choice here. You ain’t going back to who you used to be, but you can take the victory away from him.”

“... make him regret ever dunking me in that stupid vat,” she agreed, narrowing her eyes as they filled with determination for the first time since her body hit the acid. “He wants a puppet, an obedient little doll, I’ll give him Annabel.”

“There ya go,” The vigilante slid off the windowsill and approached her bed, holding out his hand for a shake. “I can help you get to that. What do ya say?”

Marinette was silent for a long minute, staring straight into his masked eyes. And then, a slow smile spread over her lips. “I got one question, Red Hood.”

“Shoot.”

“How do you feel about black cats?”

—*—*—*—*—*

This took four hours, holy hell. I’m actually happy with how this turned out. What do you guys think? I even got to max length on Tumblr 😂

[gureishi]

Your writing is amazing, and all those prompts are great! :) Could I request number 17 for Saeyoung with a female MC? Hurt/Comfort, and NSFW, please. Thank you so much, have a great day!

THANK YOU! <3 

So here, let me tell you what happened...

I looked at this prompt and I thought about Saeyoung (let’s be real, I’m always thinking about Saeyoung) and my brain screamed CABIN, CABIN, and I realized...oh my god, in all the thousands of words of Saeyoung X Reader fanfiction I’ve written, I’ve somehow never written my version of their (probably) canon first time.

So I DID IT! And it’s long af cause...well, of course it is.

seventeen: i came here for sanctuary

Saeyoung X Reader, E (M/F sex), words: 6930 (!!)

Smut warning, proceed with caution ♡

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The sun sinks behind the trees, the last streaks of yellow melting from the sky. Gravel crunches beneath the sleek little car’s wheels as it slows to a stop. The only light is from the phone in your hand—you can’t see anything outside the windows but dark, dark, dark.

“Wait,” Saeyoung whispers. “Just a minute.”

He turns off the car and without its rumbling the silence feels louder. You sit absolutely still and your heart pounds.

Saeyoung holds out his hand and, wordlessly, you pass him his phone. He pulls up a new GPS, one you don’t know how to read; zooms in; breathes a sigh of relief.

“Okay,” he says, louder. “We’re safe here.”

With that, he flings open the door, and you realize you must have absolute trust in him after all as you follow suit, stepping out into the unknown.

Outside, you can see a little more. There’s no moon tonight, but the stars are huge here, and by their light you make your way around the car, stand beside Saeyoung as he opens the trunk. He passes your backpack to you and slings the other, larger bag over his shoulder. He does this quickly, quietly, as if it’s a routine. Finding a safe house in the dark, unpacking the car in silence—for him, you suppose, it is a routine.

“Um, maybe we should—” He hesitates, awkwardly holds out a hand to you. You grin.

“Do you still need an excuse to hold my hand?” You slip your hand into his larger, warmer one, and he interlaces his fingers with yours.

“I’ll take any excuse I can get,” he says, winking, and you feel calmer. You’d follow this man to the ends of the earth, you think.

Hand-in-hand, you walk up the gravel path. You can see now that he’s parked beside a smallish cabin—it looks built by hand, the kind you’ve seen in reality shows (“fashionable young couple leaves it all behind for a rustic cabin in the woods!”) You weren’t sure things like this existed. Of course they do, you tell yourself. Stupid.

Saeyoung pulls a ring of keys you’ve never seen before out of the side pocket of his bag and spins it around, inserting a little, unlabelled key into the door. You raise your eyebrows.

“Come here often?”

He laughs and the sound warms you up from the inside: you loved his laugh the very first time you heard it, what feels like a lifetime ago. You love the way he giggles when you tease him and the way he cackles when he’s proud of himself and the way he laughs like this—bubbly, like he finds everything you do and say impossibly delightful.

“It’s actually an old agency hideout,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea at first, but it doesn’t seem like anyone’s been here for years.”

He pushes the door open and you follow him inside; you’re immediately hit by a wave of cold and a damp, musky scent. You don’t mind it—it reminds you of the basement of the home you lived in as a child.

“I think there’s…somewhere around here…” He pushes ahead, muttering to himself, and you wait in the doorway, keeping it cracked so he can see by the lights of the stars. “Ah-ha!” A dim light flickers on.

Saeyoung sighs, turning around to survey the room.

“This isn’t a place for someone like you,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the furnishings—it’s a single room, with an out-of-use fireplace and some boxes full of you-don’t-want-to-know-what stacked in one corner. There’s also a little work station and (you feel a little thrill dance up your spine) a single, slightly lumpy bed pushed against the back wall.

Nice bed. Plenty of room for…activities, whispers a voice in the back of your mind—it’s a gremlin, you think, a silly, horny gremlin, hiding in the recesses of your imagination. Shut up, you tell the gremlin.

“I like it,” you say aloud. “I could live here.” You shut the door and the click echoes in the little room.

You feel Saeyoung’s eyes on you and turn; he’s still standing in the middle of the room, watching you with a sort of reverence on his face.

“You’re amazing,” he says.

Leap into his arms and kiss him breathless, the gremlin says, and you bite your lip, hushing your inner voice. Your neck feels hot.

“You’re the amazing one,” you tell him. For some reason the air in the cabin is reverberating like a plucked string and you’re afraid if you get any closer to him the string will snap. You edge around the outer wall, drop your backpack on the bare mattress, perch on the edge of the bed. “You got us this far.”

He turns to follow you with his eyes, watching as you nervously fiddle with the straps of your bag. There’s a strange expression on his face and you don’t know what to do with your body.

He shakes his head as if to clear it and then abruptly turns from you, crosses to the little desk on the opposite wall, starts pulling things out of his bag with a little too much fervor.

“Will you be okay for a while?” he asks quietly, his back turned. “I just have to…” He waves a hand at the two laptops he’s set on the desk.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He turns to look at you now, and he’s still got that strange, conflicted look on his face. He starts to say something, stops himself. Swallows.

“You can try and keep yourself warm,” he says. “The fireplace would be too big a risk, if it even still works, but check the closet by the bathroom. I think there’s a space heater in there, and there should definitely be blankets.”

And before you can respond he’s all business again, plugging things into other things; there’s already a low hum emitting from one of the computers.

So you do as you’re told: slip out of your shoes, pad across the unfinished wood floor in your thick socks. Open the closet, start peering into the mysterious boxes there. Find, by some miracle, the old, dusty space heater. Get it going.

You wrap yourself up as tightly as you possibly can in one of the thick, stiff blankets you found neatly folded in the closet and curl up on the bare mattress. And you wait.

Time passes.

The sound of his keyboard is like a lullaby to you, nowadays, and you drift between sleep and wakefulness, your head swimming with thoughts of him: the beautiful curve of his cheekbones as he drives into the sunset, the buzzy delight of his fingers on your thigh, the cautious way he brushes his lips over yours on those brief, stolen moments of rest between driving, driving, driving…

The typing stops and your eyes fly open, blinking at him through the flickering light from the single lamp. His back is straight; his fingers aren’t moving.

You call his name. Repeat it. 

“Yeah?” His voice sounds rough and you untangle your legs from the blanket. You want to ask if he’s okay but already know the answer.

“How’s it going?” you ask instead—vaguely, lamely. You twist the thick fabric of the blanket in your fingers. What a silly, meaningless question.

“We’ll definitely catch up to him tomorrow,” Saeyoung says hollowly. You consider going to him, wrapping your arms around his tense shoulders, but you don’t know if he’ll let you—the physical affection between you is so new, so tenuous. 

“I’m glad,” you say, because it’s the truth.

He twists around in his chair to peer at you. There are familiar dark circles under his eyes, worry written on his soft features.

“You’re not scared?” he asks.

“A little,” you tell him. “But I trust you.”

He sighs, pushes his glasses up, runs one shaky hand over his face. “You have too much faith in me.”

“You’ve given me no reason not to have faith in you.” You unwind yourself more from the big blanket. The space heater has worked, filling the room with smoky warmth. “Are you scared?” you ask.

He cocks his head to the side as if he’s considering it and, with some surprise, says, “Yeah, I think…I am.”

“What are you scared of?” you ask, not sure if he’ll tell you.

He drums his fingers on his knee, looks around the little room as if stalling for time. “Disappearing,” he says at last.

Oh, how you want to run to him. Kiss the lines of worry off his face and hold him till he melts into you.

“I’m not going to let you go anywhere,” you tell him firmly. You’re not sure why, but you feel very confident about this.

“Thank you,” he says. “But…” He’s looking down at his lap now. “I set up my life so I could disappear without a trace whenever I needed to. So if I do…go away…there’d be nothing left of me. It’d be like I was never here.”

That’s it—you can’t take it anymore. You’ve got no more patience—not when he’s got that frightened, empty look on his face. 

“Come here,” you say, and you open your arms. His cheeks immediately flush pink, and you’re relieved to see embarrassment take the place of hopelessness on his face.

“O-onto the bed?” he stammers, and you grin—because the capable, strong man who you trust with your life is also this hopelessly innocent, charmingly awkward boy, turning bright red at the mere thought of letting you hold him.

“Only if you want to,” you say in your sweetest voice, and he quietly groans.

“Who could say no to that?” he mutters to himself, and you try to stifle a giggle as he swings his leg over the chair and stumbles the few feet to the bed. You wait for him patiently, arms open—cautiously, avoiding your gaze, he crawls toward you, and as he nuzzles his head hesitantly against your chest you fold him into your arms.

“Better?” you ask him.

“Yes, and…no,” he says. You can feel his heart pounding through both his t-shirt and hoodie, and it seems like he doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands. One rests just above your hip, just barely touching you, like he’s not sure whether or not he’s supposed to.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him. With one hand, you play with a stray curl that’s fallen over his face; his skin feels hot on your fingertips.

“I don’t wanna say,” he murmurs.

You brush the hair off his forehead and then, because you just want to, you press a single, soft kiss to his hairline. He shudders.

“Tell me,” you say. Saeyoung has been still as a statue this whole time; now, his hand shifts, putting just the tiniest bit of pressure on your hip. He’s still barely touching you but suddenly you know what he’s thinking, and it’s like an electric current runs through your body and sets your blood on fire. The gremlin chants its encouragement from deep within your mind.

“If…” he says cautiously, and you feel his lips through your shirt as he speaks softly into your chest. Your heart misses a beat. “If tonight is our last night, I just…want to do one thing.”

“It’s not our last night,” you tell him, and your voice sounds too loud, and somehow your focus is narrowing, narrowing so all you can feel is his hand against your hip. You continue working your fingers through his hair, a little more roughly now; he squirms against you and grips your hip harder, harder.

“I hope not,” he whispers. “But if—just in case—can I…be a bit selfish to you?”

You’ve got goosebumps. 

“You can do anything you want to me,” you say, and as soon as the words are out of your mouth you feel you’ve gone too far. The gremlin is roaring.

His head shoots up and suddenly you’re overwhelmed by the intensity of his eyes, his face mere inches from yours.

“Wh-what?” he stammers. His face is flushed and his pupils are huge; he’s looking at you like he’s never seen anything quite like you before. And maybe his shyness emboldens you, or maybe you’re drunk on the burning feeling of his fingers on your skin, but you take a deep breath and plunge ahead.

“You can do anything you want,” you repeat slowly, looking down into his beautiful, molten eyes. “To me.”

He audibly gulps. There’s a hard, desperate look on his face. You’ve caught glimpses of this expression before, when he’s kissed you, hands at your back, breathing hard against your lips—but he’s always pulled away, cut things off before they went too far.

Now, he’s not pulling away.

“I want to kiss you,” he breathes.

“So kiss me.”

And he does, slowly closing the distance between you, brushing his lips against yours with so much tenderness and care. He’s holding back, you can tell—wound so tight he’s barely moving, as if he’s terrified of whatever lives underneath his carefully curated exterior.

You part your lips and he trembles and—keep going, hisses the gremlin—you deepen the kiss, sweep the tip of your tongue over his bottom lip.

“Mmmm,” you hum, relishing the sweet-salty taste of him, and you weave one hand into the base of his messy curls.

This breaks him. He swivels abruptly, crashing his hips into yours, kissing you harder now—clumsy, rough, electric, wonderful. Delighted by his sudden ferocity, you mold into him, raking your hands down the back of his neck.

He pulls back a fraction of an inch, panting, a wild look on his face.

“I…s-sorry…” he pants. “I c-can’t…”

“Tell me what else you want,” you say. You run a hand up his chest and feel his muscles tensing, his body vibrating.

“I—I want to…” His eyes roam your body and he’s never looked at you quite like this before and—oh god, you think, you didn’t know you could want somebody this much.“I want to…touch you,” he says, his voice low.

The gremlin cheers.

“Touch me where?” you whisper. You roll your hips under his and he moans, grasping desperately at your shoulders with bruising fingers.

“N-not fair,” he hisses. Then he’s kissing you again, more confidently this time, lips parted and hands skimming down your arms, across your torso. Your shirt has ridden up and his calloused fingertips graze your bare skin, making you dizzy, so you wrap your legs around his waist, pull him against you—he groans, kissing you ferociously, breathlessly. Every point of contact between you burns icy-hot.

You break the kiss and gasp for air. Saeyoung looks totally undone, his eyes unfocused, pupils blown huge as he hovers over you. More, screams your mind gremlin, and you silently agree. Your fingers rove over his chest, under his unzipped hoodie.

“Can I take this off?” you murmur. He nods, looking dazed and a little helpless, and you slip it easily off his shoulders, run your hands down his arms. He’s got goosebumps, too. “Is this okay?” you ask him, fingers dancing over his torso now, under his t-shirt.

“Yeah,” he pants, following your questing hands with his eyes. “Um, can I…?”

“Please,” you say. You lean back a little and he cautiously slips a hand under your shirt. His fingers tickle—you giggle—his face breaks into a smile.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, exploring the sensitive skin of your belly with one tentative hand. You moan softly, encouraging him, and his hand slides over your ribcage—pausing when he hits the lacy bottom edge of your bra. He looks down, his cheeks reddening again. “I don’t…know what to do with this,” he mutters. It’s your turn to grin. The genius secret agent slash hacker, taken down by a bra.

“Here,” you say. You pull yourself into a sitting position and he rocks back on his heels; you grab your shirt with both hands and easily lift it off, toss it aside.

Saeyoung looks positively enraptured.

“Y-you are…” he stammers. His awe is adorable and charming but the gremlin yells touch me more, dammit, so you take his hand and guide it to your skin, stroking down from your throat all the way to your belly button.

“Now what are you thinking?” you ask him. You lean back and let him explore you with both hands—he is meticulous, running his fingertips over every inch of exposed skin.

“I’m thinking…” He’s red again. “To be honest, I kind of never thought I’d be in this position.”

You giggle. “S-sorry!” you say. “I just…looking at a girl in a bra?”

He chuckles awkwardly, his hands at your waist, his eyes lowered. “Yeah,” he says. “Exactly.”

“Oh, then boy do I have a surprise for you.” Before he can respond, you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him again. He kisses you back hard, grasping at your sides as if holding on for dear life. You trust his grip and slip your hands behind you, unhooking your bra.

Saeyoung realizes what’s happening just a beat after it happens, and he breaks the kiss, pulling away as if he can’t help himself—eyes unabashedly roaming over your body. You slip the straps down your arms and toss the bra aside. For a moment, it seems as though you’ve rendered him speechless.

Then: “Wow,” he says softly.

You grin, propping yourself up with both hands and arching your back, taunting him a little. “That’s all you have to say?”

He chokes on air, lifts his hands to his hot, flushed cheeks. “You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters.

His worshipful attention emboldens you. “Your turn,” you tell him, sliding your fingers up and under his t-shirt again. He lifts his arms—obediently, as if in a trance—and you pull the shirt over his head. It gets caught for a moment on his glasses and he absently tosses them aside.

“Careful—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says gruffly.

The shirt is off—at last—and you explore his torso with eager fingers. His skin is warm and malleable under your touch; you can feel where there were once defined abs, trademark of years of rigorous training. Now, there’s a layer of softer flesh over those muscles, evidence of his more recent lifestyle.

He winces a little as your fingers graze his belly.

“Not much to look at,” he mutters. “Especially compared to you.”

You shake your head vehemently, tracing the contours of his chest with your hands. “You are so beautiful,” you tell him in a reverent voice. And he is—the muscles in his arms ripple delightfully under his skin as he adjusts his position, sits cross-legged in front of you. His body is perfect, you think—firm and yet soft, sculpted and yet supple.

He looks sideways and down, made embarrassed by your scrutiny. You run your fingertips over a long scar you’ve never seen before, cutting diagonally across his chest and onto his shoulder.

“What do you want now?” you ask him, leaning forward to brush his neck with your lips. He’s breathing heavily and he’s got that look on his face again—like he’s just barely keeping it together.

“I want…you,” he murmurs, his eyes fluttering shut, and you’re not sure if there’s more to the sentence than that—but you can’t stand it anymore, so you climb into his lap, wrapping both legs around his waist. “Oh my god,” he hisses as you adjust in his lap; you press your lips to his neck again and graze the gentle skin with your teeth. His hips shudder underneath you and the friction makes your head swim.

“C-can I…” he whispers throatily, “do that too?”

You giggle, because even with you half-naked and straddling him he’s still got that adorable naïveté and you just want to smother him with affection.

“Do what?” you murmur in his ear, and then you catch his earlobe between your teeth. He groans, low and longing.

“I-I want—” he begins, but then you grind your hips against him and his words crumble into another desperate moan. He grips your hips with both hands, tries again. “I want to…leave evidence,” he rasps, and he’s holding you so tight you’re sure there will be fingerprints on your hips and thighs in the morning. Good, whispers the gremlin. “I want to leave evidence on you that I existed,” he says.

Your breath hitches and you don’t miss the unspoken “in case I disappear tomorrow” and you lean back in his lap, baring your throat for him.

“Do it,” you say.

He kisses your lips and then, so slowly, flutters kisses across your cheek, your jaw. He parts his lips and you can feel his teeth on your skin.

“Tell me how,” he whispers.

“Lower,” you say, and you feel his lips drift down your neck. “Open,” you tell him, and his lips part. You stay very still, legs wrapped tight around his waist. “Suck,” you say, and he does, tugging your skin into his mouth. You feel the sharp pressure on your skin and you feel a swooping in your stomach, a neediness at your core. “One…” you count, and he sucks harder, his teeth against your flushed skin. “Two…three. Now.” He pulls back, panting a little, surveying his work with curious eyes.

“It’s red,” he says.

“Good,” you tell him. “Again.”

Without hesitation, he brings his mouth to your neck again, following the muscle that wraps around the front of your throat. He takes your skin between his teeth with more confidence this time and sparks fly behind your closed eyelids.

He meticulously progresses down one side of your neck and up the other, leaving a trail of tender, bruised skin in his wake. It doesn’t hurt much, but the gentle pain is enough to stir up something strong and mysterious inside of you. The gremlin in your mind swims in a sea of pleasure. 

Saeyoung bites you just under your left ear and you can’t keep still anymore, your hips rocking against his, seeking new sensations.

“Saeyoung,” you hiss, and he licks your neck—you know he can feel the way your nails scrabble at his back—your longing has made him bolder. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Am I?” He nibbles your jaw and grins against your skin as you moan. “Should I drive you crazier?”

You are going to lose it, you think. You are going to topple off the cliff of sensations that are barraging your mind and you are going to fall apart entirely.

"You don’t wanna see what will happen if you do,” you mutter.

“I do, though,” he teases, and then he bites your earlobe—hard—and for a moment you can’t see straight. 

You asked for it, you think, and then—before he can react—you slither out of his grip and dart off the bed. Too late, he reaches for you, but you’ve already found your footing, sliding easily to your knees. You grip his waist with both hands and pull him toward you and he follows, automatically, unthinking. It’s only then that he looks down and sees the position you’re in.

His eyes widen and his face flushes a shade darker than his hair. “You’re…that’s…uhhhh,” he manages. You loop two fingers through the waistband of his jeans and tug him closer to the edge of the bed and he goes with you, letting his legs dangle off the side. He opens his mouth as if to say something else. Swallows. Closes it again.

You run one hand over and around his thigh and then, achingly slow, over the obvious bulge in his pants. He makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a squeak.

“Will you let me do this?” you ask, fingers drifting up to the button of his jeans. He tries to speak but fails again. Instead, he nods frantically, and you undo the button, pull down the zipper. His erection springs free, now constrained only by the more forgiving fabric of his boxers. “Help me with these, babe,” you say, tugging at his pants, and he complies eagerly, pulling his jeans off his hips with shaky hands. You guide them down his legs and then you palm him again, through his underwear, thrilled by the way his cock jumps in anticipation at your touch.

“I wanna taste you,” you whisper, and he mutters a string of incoherent syllables, his hips shaking uncontrollably under your ministrations. You slip his boxers up and over his erection, down his thighs, and bend slowly forward, exhaling onto him. His cock jumps again as if seeking out your lips of its own accord. So you bend over further, bring your lips to his tip, dart out your tongue and lick all the way around.

He groans low in his throat and then his hands are tangled in your hair and he’s pulling your head back.

“No?” you ask, and he whimpers as if stopping you is taking all his strength.

“I…want you to, god I want you to…b-but…” His voice sounds weak and his eyes are shut, his head still tilted back. “If you do that, I won’t…uhhhhh, I won’t be able to…l-last. Very long. At all.” He finally opens his eyes and gazes down at you with such neediness it makes you tremble.

“You don’t have to, baby,” you purr, and he shuts his eyes again with a moan. “Trust me, you’ll…come back around, if that’s what you want.”

He mumbles something and your lips quirk upward as you feel him gathering your hair behind your neck with his hands.

“Then…please,” he hisses, and the gremlin jumps for joy. You round your lips, carefully taking his tip between them; you wrap one hand around his base and slowly, slowly pull him into your mouth.

He utters a totally indistinguishable string of sounds and you suction your lips around him and arch your back, taking him deeper and then slipping away, licking all the way up his length. You grip his base with your other hand and slide your lips over him, in and out, mouth and hand working in tandem. He meant it when he said he wouldn’t last long, you think—his hips have started to shake in a telltale way and so, back arching, you suction your lips around him tighter, rocking forward on your knees. You cup his balls with one hand and breathe in, pulling him further into your mouth—and he comes, hard and fast, wiggling beneath you as he relinquishes control. You open your throat, swallowing everything.

He gasps for air and, gradually, the erratic movements of his hips slow. You pull away from him then, licking the last of the saltiness from his tip, and he lets out a low, hollow moan.

The heat between your legs is almost unbearable now—there was something about making him dissolve in pleasure that completely overwhelmed you and now you feel dizzy.

You pull yourself back onto the bed, crawling to his side and stroking his cheek. His eyes flutter open and he looks ravished, you think, his gaze totally unfocused and his hair beautifully disheveled.

“I…that…” he pants. You kiss his collarbone. “Th-that was…”

“Better than when you do it yourself, huh?” You giggle against his skin and internally beg your gremlin for patience, trying to ignore the steadily growing need at your core.

“I…literally cannot put into words how much better,” he says. “You…”

“Give great head? Are impossibly sexy and cool? Deserve a blessing from God Seven?” You can’t help but scoot closer as you tease him, grinding your hips—still in your pants, dammit—against his side.

“God Seven isn’t worthy,” he says. His eyes rove over your body, and—yes—land on your still-clothed lower half. “God Seven has found a new purpose in life.”

“And that is?” you purr. You shamelessly rub your hips against his side again. You keep your voice level; internally, you’re at the eye of a storm.

He props himself up on his elbows. Maybe he can tell that now you’re the one who’s falling apart; maybe he’s just finally starting to relax (he certainly should feel relaxed, after that, you think)—but you sense that he’s taking control.

“Well.” His tone is commanding, almost intellectual. “The first step is to get you out of these pants.”

“Yes!” you cry, and he chuckles as you enthusiastically undo the button, already pulling them down your thighs. “Finally!”

He waits for you, sprawled sideways across the bed, looking for all the world as if he does this everyday. You wriggle out of your pants and throw yourself onto your back beside him.

There’s a hungry look on his face as he leans forward and runs one large, calloused hand up your thigh, parting your legs. Desperate for him, you lean back into the mattress, breath already coming hard and fast. “You’re so wet…” he says in awe as he reaches your panties and hesitates, his hand tantalizingly close.

“Of course I am,” you tell him. “It’s because I need you to touch me, Saeyoung.”

His eyes go wide.

“Teach me,” he whispers.

You rip your underwear off with one hand and he helps you, pulling it down your legs and over your feet with gentle hands. You catch his hand in your own and guide him up, between your thighs—separating out his long, flexible fingers, bringing the pad of his index finger to your swollen, needy clit.

“Like this,” you murmur, and you flick your own finger over yourself, hot and trembling, unable to repress a moan at finally getting some satisfaction. He watches you with thoughtful eyes and you can practically see the gears turning in that genius brain of his as he memorizes your movements.

Then he copies you, moving his finger softly against your clit—and it’s different when he does it, of course, his fingers nimbler, his skin rougher. He mimics your motions with absolute precision and you let your hand fall away, the mixture of pleasure and desperation and relief threatening to drown you.

He takes note of every response from you: the way you moan as he moves faster, the way your thighs clench around his hand as he experimentally makes a little circle with his fingertip.

“You are…amazing,” he says, and he’s gazing down at you in wonder, and—oh, he’s got a new toy to play with, you think groggily, your head swimming—he’s found another thing he can manipulate with his fingers, and that’s his speciality.

“Thank god for computers,” you gasp, not even sure what you’re saying, the room swimming around you as you forget to breathe.

“Thank god for…computers?” he asks, eyebrows knitted in confusion—but even as he speaks, his movements don’t slow, his finger flitting against you with the same precision and gentleness you’ve seen him apply to his keyboards, or the little cat robot.

You somehow manage to laugh through the blinding heat behind your eyes. “Because…” you gasp. “B-because you’re good at…computers…so you know how to…”

At that moment, he curls a finger inside of you, his eyes growing huge as he realizes he has another weapon at his disposal. You lose track of your words entirely, taken by surprise, stammering out his name as his index fingers continues its endless stimulation of your clit and his middle finger slides deeper inside you. 

Your toes curl. He bends over you and his teeth graze your neck where it’s already tender from his earlier attentions and the heat is blinding, blinding you, and you swear your body actually levitates, the cold, scratchy mattress disappearing entirely as the pleasure swells within you. You come violently, shaking, anchored to reality only by his fingers at your core.

You hear yourself gasping his name as if from outside yourself, and he rides it out with you, pushing you deeper and farther into the bright, hot recesses of your mind.

And slowly, the feeling fades: the mattress is firm and steady beneath you and you grasp clumsily for him, stilling his fingers with your own.

“Fuck,” you say, trying to catch your breath. “Fuck, Saeyoung.”

You try to focus on his face. He’s hovering over you and he looks adoring and thrilled and—proud.

“Am I amazing at that, or what?!” he sings, and you burst out laughing.

“You’re a genius, babe,” you tell him. You still feel a little woozy.

“I know I’m a genius,” he crows. “But who knew I was a sex genius?” He’s all energy now, bouncing on his heels, rocking the bed a little. You push yourself into a sitting position, giggling.

“God Seven, God Seven!” he’s chanting—so you do the only reasonable thing and tackle him, knocking him flat on his back, snaking your arms around his neck.

“There’s still something I wanna try with you, genius God Seven,” you purr into his ear, and his demeanor shifts almost immediately, a little shiver running through his body.

“Yeah?” he murmurs—and all his bravado is gone, and he gazes at you hungrily. You maneuver yourself so your hips are hovering just over his, and you can feel that he’s hardening again, his tip grazing your belly.

“Choi Saeyoung, for the love of god, please fuck me,” you say. He exhales sharply, grasping at your sides with both hands. “I’ve only been imagining it since the day I met you.”

“You have?” His voice is low and throaty and you grind your hips against him, pinning his cock between you. He’s totally hard now, and shivering, that dizzy look returning to his face—like he doesn’t quite know where is or how he got here.

“You have no idea,” he mutters. “But…hang on…I have—” He pushes you off him reluctantly, and you sit back on the bed.

He has…?

It dawns on you, and you watch in wonder as he slides from the bed, practically runs to his bag which he’s left beside the desk. You’re a little ashamed to admit that you hadn’t even thought of it.

He rummages around in the bag and you watch—he has, you think, an excellent butt. Triumphantly, he pulls a little roll of condoms from his bag; you smirk.

“Why do you have those?” you ask, trying to keep the laugher from your voice.

“Don’t…read anything into it, alright?” His face is flushed again as he returns to you, crawls back onto the bed. “I just…you know, need to be prepared. For things. As an…agent.”

“As an agent?” You lean back against the wall, legs long in front of you. You can see little finger-shaped marks already forming on your thighs and the sight alone makes your head spin.

“Yeah, it’s…y’know…safety?” he mumbles, coming to sit beside you. He rips off one of the little packets, tosses the rest aside. His face is still flushed and the dim light from the lamp casts shadows over his prominent collar bones and you just want to bite them.

“Saeyoung, how long have you had the condoms?” you ask.

“Not…long."

“So not like, years, right? Cause they expire, you know.”

He growls playfully and nips at your shoulder; you squeal. “Not years, silly. Like…days.”

Ah-ha. You’re a little relieved to know you’re not the only one who’s been obsessing over getting him naked for the last few days.

“So,” you say, voice low.

“So,” he says.

You turn and kiss the base of his neck and he hisses in pleasure. You trail kisses down his chest, over his belly, his hip. Up the length of his cock, holding it gently with one hand.

“G-go easy on me,” he groans, and you laugh. You reach for the packet and he hands it to you; you tear it open and ease the sticky plastic over his tip. You roll the condom onto him slowly, caressing him with both hands, bending to pepper little kisses around his base.

“Ready, baby?” you whisper, looking up at him. He meets your eyes with his own, dark and dizzy and dazed.

“I-I just wanna…” he mumbles. “Just wanna remind you that I have no idea what I’m doing…so…”

You put both hands on his chest and straddle him. 

“What happened to God Seven, sex genius?”

“He’s…still here, but I…ahh.” He moans as you position yourself over him, using a hand to guide him toward you entrance.

“I love you,” you tell him. And before he can answer, you slide onto him, slowly, gasping at the relief of finally feeling him inside you.

His hips stutter frantically against yours and you still him with a hand on his chest. His eyes are shut and his jaw is fixed, like he’s fighting desperately for control.

You wait for him to take a breath—and when he does, slowly, shakily, you start to move. You lift your hips and he moves with you, lower them and he follows you. You feel a sharp clenching inside you, a delightful explosion of sensations, as you fall into a rhythm together.

You moan and he reaches for you, grasping at your sides, your arms. He’s growing more confident now, rocking into you, and you clench around him, pulling him deeper.

His eyes fly open and you see something snap in him—do it, you think—and he does, using both hands to flip you onto your back, pinning you beneath him. His eyes scorch you as he slips back inside you, thrusting into you a little harder; you meet him halfway, lifting your hips, deepening the angle. He’s panting and you can tell he’s still trying to hold himself back and you want to tell him to let go, it’s okay, but there’s fog swimming in your brain and then a huge wave of feelings crashes over you, breaking around you before you know what’s happening. You come quickly and unexpectedly this time, rays of pleasure piercing your body as you lose control of the rhythm and fall to pieces beneath him.

And through the daze of pleasure you see his face shift as he gives in, lets go, thrusts into you faster and harder and with unbidden need—and so you throw your legs up around his waist and pull him into you. His eyes widen and then he comes, too, chasing you, rocking into you frantically, breathing hard through parted lips.

You come down together, trembling and panting, his beautiful faces inches from yours—and then he kisses you hard. You clench around him again and he whimpers.

“You just did that…on purpose,” he gasps.

“I did.”

He laughs a brand new laugh and this one, you think, is your favorite. He slides out of you and sits back, pulling off the condom with a hiss as his fingers brush the sensitive flesh.

“I don’t wanna be dramatic,” he says as he catches his breath. “But I think I just died and then was born again. So.” He giggles and you collapse against him, pressing a hot cheek to his chest. He wraps his arms around you.

“Do you think,” you murmur, “other agents have also done it in this bed?”

He squeezes you tight, still laughing. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“How could you not?”

He hums thoughtfully, combing his fingers through your knotted hair. “I kind of doubt it,”  he says. “Secret agents have way less sex than people think we do.”

“You don’t,” you say.

“One time,” he mutters, nuzzling his face into your hair. “I’ve now had sex one time.”

You twist to look up at him: there are curls falling messily over his forehead and his face is flushed and pink and so kissable. You crane your neck and kiss the underside of his jaw.

“I have this strong feeling that you’re gonna end up having a lot more sex,” you tell him. “Probably kind of soon.”

He cackles and dips his head and covers your face with kisses; you squeal as he flips you over onto your stomach, tossing your hair to the side and nibbling the back of your neck.

“…didn’t leave…enough evidence?” you pant, giggling, squirming.

“Oh, I’m not worried about that anymore,” he says, pinning you beneath him and licking the back of your ear.

“You’re not?”

“Nope!” he sings. “I am one hundred percent confident that I won’t be going anywhere any time soon.” His energy shifts as he kisses across your shoulder, down your back. His fingers drift to your sides, caressing you slowly, making you tremble. “I am never,” he whispers into your skin, “going anywhere without you.”

“Promise?” you pant, squirming as his kisses drift lower, lower.

“I promise,” he whispers, his lips burning your lower back, “that I won’t ever leave your side.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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[deltas-writing-corner]

Courtship (4): The Gargoyle Graveyard

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Again, thank you all for being patient with me and I apologize for having a very inconsistent writing schedule. I'm going to make it my goal to update on a bi weekly basis instead of leaving you all in silent limbo. Also a reminder I suck at figuring out which warnings to put so if there's something that needs to be forewarned that I failed to disclose please lmk!

Warnings: Mentions of heavy bodily injuries | childhood trauma/neglect | discussions/mentions of discrimination | mentions of virginity/sexual history

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AO3 version

Clay. Stone. Porcelain. Plaster. Metal. There are even gargoyles carved entirely of wood! Some statues are stand-alone works of art while others are part of a clear collection or series of similar inspiration. They even come in all sorts of shapes and sizes; as small as an apple or a towering height to rival Malleus himself. No matter what, each grotesque has been crafted with the utmost consideration, by well seasoned and knowing hands. Even the ones that have clear defects and cannot serve their intended purpose are free of overabundant ivy, weeds, or dust. There’s a clear degree of love and care the family who makes these statues has for their craft that makes him feel less alone in his interest in an uncherished form of art.

“It should be around here somewhere,” you muse aloud. Ever since he expressed interest in seeing more sculptures made with non-traditional materials, you’ve been keeping your eye out for a particular one that would fulfill his yearning. You eventually find it and eagerly point to it. “There it is!”

Malleus watches as you approach a massive-sized statue covered with a thick and half-wet tarp. He helps you remove the cover, revealing a winged and slightly humanoid canine. There are many more grotesques with a similar design, but what makes this one stand out the most is the material it’s made out of.

“Amazing!” Malleus awes. “I’ve never seen a grotesque of this size made entirely of glass! They’ve even managed to maintain their attention to detail despite such an abnormal material choice.”

“You can even see the inner channel where the water would flow in and redirect out of its mouth,” you notice.

“They even went out of their way to make it functional despite it being unfit for actual installation?” Malleus inquires with disbelief. “Such a shame.”

“If you’re looking to buy anything here, I’m afraid it's a lost cause. One of the first warnings the grandfather gave me is that none of these are for sale.”

“What was his second warning?”

“If we damage anything, even as small as a scratch, he’ll kill us.”

“How charming,” he chuckles. “I cannot blame him. These statues must take weeks to complete. Time is a human’s greatest enemy.”

“For some, sure. But when I went to visit the family and talked to the old man, he was lunging around all this heavy equipment like he was still in his prime,” you recall. “He lives for his craft. If there’s anything humans are at risk of their entire lives, it’s a lack of motivation and reason to live.”

“I suppose that’s true, but the lifespan of humans and the inevitable effects of aging is difficult to live with, especially once it begins to hinder one’s ability to do what one could previously do without issue. ”

“You’re not wrong,” you acknowledge. “But I think I’d rather live a short life with fulfillment than a dull, long-as-shit life.”

To show that he’s entirely on your side, Gunter lets out a guttural bark while his tail rapidly wags and thumps the damp ground, coating the ends of his bushy tail in specs of dirt and dirtied, remnant snow of the north that has managed to stay frozen on the isles warmer south end.

“You’re only agreeing with them because you’ve been promised food,” Malleus chastises. “Don’t think I didn’t pick up on your grumbling stomach.”

“And don't think I didn't pick up on your stomach rumbling either your highness," you quip back at him. "The family has a small cottage nearby we can use. We'll settle down for a bit and eat before sightseeing some more."

Before you turn and walk in the direction towards the aforementioned lodgings, you reach your hand out for Malleus to take and he latches onto you with restrained enthusiasm. He's taller than you, but he takes care not to take his normal strides as to not leave you struggling to keep up with him. Gunter doesn't know the way, so he trots beside you every step of the way up until the destination is in plain view. The cottage is small but well-attended. There’s a rustic flair to its construction that makes it feel familiar and safe despite never stepping foot in it before.

"Those gargoyles were something, huh?" you remark to him while you tap and shake off the gunk wedged into the soles of your heavy boots against the frame of the door.

"Indeed," he nods, taking your cloak off for you and hanging it on the wooden rack nearby. "I don't think I've ever seen that many gargoyles in one day. Just when my eyes land upon an intriguing one, there's several more that catch my attention."

The way he gets all wide-eyed is outright adorable. It makes you grin just as enthusiastically too. "I bet your club is going to have a field day once you tell them about this!"

His child-like smile turns into one of disappointment. "I'm certain they would, if I wasn't the sole member that is."

Your hands halt from pulling out and setting down all the premade food out of your pack. "Seriously? You're the only one?"

When he nods his head, you feel a twinge of hurt in your heart. Poor guy. You can only imagine how disappointing it must be to go through all those lengths to start a club (you would know since you're technically a staff member of the school and have been given a rundown on some of the school's functions and regulations) only for no one to show interest. Of course, you completely understand that gargoyles aren't exactly all the rage within the minds of teenage boys. Still! He goes through so much effort to build relationships with his peers but they always cower away, either due to his status or even because of the way he looks. You won’t deny that he does come off as rather intimidating at first glance, but he's a sweet guy once you give him the chance to speak.

But to expect teenagers going through social pressures and demanding academics to be as understanding and willing to understand someone like Malleus is an impossible demand. Given that everyone in the school can be a bunch of self-centered and easily agitated bunch of pricks, it's understandable that most of the student body isn't keen on trying to take into consideration the proper etiquette one needs to consider in the presence of a young and noble fae. Deuce has met and talked briefly with Malleus on one occasion, but even he visibly shakes whenever his name is mentioned, even in casual passing.

Wait until they found out who you've gone and gotten buddy-buddy with behind their back. They probably think they're slick or that their intentions are well swept under the rug, but it's clear they feel some semblance of responsibility for your well-being, as both a magicless individual as well as a close, albeit older, friend. You dread the day people begin to make the connections between Malleus and you, but you still can’t help but wonder what their reactions might be. You also dread the high probability those two idiots are going to find out and embarrass the living hell out of you, which you know you do not have the patience or tolerance for.

Gunter jumps up and sits himself down in one of the wooden dining chairs, pushing the small ceramic plate towards you with his nose, as if telling you "Alright, I’ve done what I said I'd do, now feed me what I'm owed." You tell him that you'll give him what he's well earned after you get a small fire started in the brick fireplace. Just because it's warmer near the southern half of the island and not as heavily blanketed with snow, doesn't mean the cold has completely vanished, Winter is still winter after all.

"Where did these scars come from?"

Malleus' unexpected question and closeness nearly make you drop the iron rod you've been using to stoke the growing fire. You've since taken off your boots and rolled up the bottoms of your pants just above your knee as the room starts to warm up enough for a thin layer of perspiration to accumulate and roll down your skin. The scars he's referring to are the ones on your right leg, both side by side at an awkward angle and discolored. You have a lot more scars than these, some much more gruesome in appearance than these two. Malleus has never asked about your scars, but sometimes you catch him looking in the general area of some that peak through your clothes. He likely keeps quiet about their existence out of courtesy.

Yet out of all the markings on your body, why did these two stand out enough that he'd finally ask about them?

"It's a long story," you say in an effort to stall the topic. "Sit. I'll feed you two once the fire is stable."

He doesn’t push you for an answer, instead simply doing as you say and lets you poke at the burning logs until they're properly aflame on their own. You made mostly some of your morning favorites; Creamy and thick potato stew with diced carrots and peas and some eggs, ham, and crispy hash browns sandwich between homemade halved croissants. You teased him about having picky taste buds earlier, but Malleus is content to eat anything you serve him so long as it is not comparable to the likes of Lilia's atrocious cooking.

(Seriously, how does a man as old as Lilia not know the basic fundamentals of cooking? And why does everything he makes end up burnt and tasting like something rotten? You will never understand.)

"Don't eat too quickly," you warn Gunter as you pour a bit of light-colored soup onto his designated plate. Your words are ignored, as the equally marred wolf sloppily slurps and munches on the few bits of potatoes and vegetables you generously scraped out of the thermos. His food is gone as quickly as it’s put in front of him and he looks at you expecting more.

"No. The rest is mine," you scold. "And don't beg Malleus for some either! I know you do it behind my back, you little shit!"

He turns to look at Malleus with an accusatory glare, thinking that he ratted him out to you. Malleus’s response towards the silent imputation is to turn and look out the window as if something caught his interest all of a sudden, cup raised to his lips as he politely sips away at his meal without an air of calmness. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the amusement that overtakes your senses.

"Malleus, stop that!"

"Stop what?" he innocently asks.

"Stop making me want to laugh!"

He sets his cup down onto its matching serving dish. "It's not my fault you have an easily satiable sense of humor."

"Wow!" you say incredulously and put your arms up in offense. "And here I was thinking we were friends!"

His distant demeanor breaks and you both devolve into a fit of laughter together. Gunter unfortunately takes advantage of your joint distraction and slips away with a warm sandwich between his jaw, your sandwich in particular.

"That damn wolf!" you curse. "I knew I should have trusted my gut and pack extras.”

Malleus pities your distress before moving over to sit closer. "Worry not. I'll split mine in half with you,” he reassures.

"No, it's fine," you immediately dismiss his offer. "Have it for yourself."

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he firmly states. “Don’t be stubborn. It’s far too early for that.”

"I thought you liked it when I was stubborn?” you pout.

He shakes his head with a smile. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t”

"At least someone likes my attitude,” you say after chewing and swallowing a mouthful of soup. “Sebek certainly doesn’t."

"The boy is stubborn as well. When two equally stubborn individuals cross paths, you will witness nothing but discord between the two."

"Add the fact I'm human into the mix, and we'll be exchanging fists instead of words sooner or later," you scoff. "I get that some faes don't like humans, but what's his deal with acting like he’s got a vendetta against me?"

"Sebek doesn't hate humans for the reasons you might think," Malleus admits. "It’s more like he finds them difficult to think that highly of. Did you know that he is half-human?"

You nearly choke on your own breath over the sudden revelation. "Really?"

"Indeed," Malleus finds amusement at your disbelief. "Have you ever wondered why his ears aren't pointed like Silver, but his eyes are like mine and Lilia’s?"

"Damn,” you scratch the back of your head with embarrassment. “Now I feel stupid.”

"You aren't. Given the way he speaks, not many would assume he had human blood in his veins. His mother was highly regarded within her social circle, but her marriage to a human man tarnished her reputation a great deal. She's happy and does not seem to care what others think of her these days. However, when Sebek set out to be a knight, his mother's marriage and his lineage were often brought up as a way to scrutinize his character and capabilities rather than any of his actual shortcomings as an individual."

"Poor kid," you sigh. "Lilia told me those sorts of things still happen in The Valley, but it sounds so outlandish that I couldn’t take it that seriously."

"Many faes hold old traditions above all else, to a degree that the purity of one's blood stands above all other merits." His eyebrows pressed together in annoyance. "Even my grandmother thinks it's archaic, but as the reigning queen she has to embody a persona of neutrality between the social divide."

"It sounds like you have your work cut out for you in the future," you say, almost apologetically. "What do you plan to do about it once you're the king?"

There's a brief flash of surprise over your question, but Malleus easily answers it as usual. "I think my first course of action as king would be to properly knight Sebek and Silver."

"Bet my rifle that Sebek is going to cry the entire ceremony!" you remark with certainty. "That's all he ever goes on about, being a knight and all."

"He's devoted countless hours and efforts since he was a child. If there's anyone who deserves to join the knighthood, it's him."

"Definitely," you nod to further cement your agreement with him. "He could stand to lower his voice a bit. He'll give you tinnitus before long.”

"At least we won't have to worry about losing him in a crowd," Malleus jests.

"That's to say we'll lose sight of him to begin with," you remark. "He'll gladly lose me in a crowd. You? You'd be lucky to get out of arm's length."

"You underestimate me, dearest," Malleus smirks. "Ever since I've met you, I've perfected the art of avoiding Sebek's insistent searches."

"Have you now?" you razz back. "Don't let him catch onto the fact. He'll have my head."

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Each second his skin touches yours makes you tingle. Time slows down ever so briefly if only to savor the small instance of physical connection for as long as possible. "What of your aunts?" he inquires. "Are they as overprotective of you as Sebek is of myself?"

"They’re a trio of mama bears," you proudly admit. "I'm old enough to drink and well equipped to fend for myself, but in their minds, I'll always be the little tyke that couldn't even eat their meals without looking at them for approval. Especially my aunt Gia."

You have three aunts. There's your aunt Marisol, the mother of most of your cousins and the main caretaker of the household. Your second aunt Lucia was well into her studies at university when you came to live with them, but her stress and long hours of mulling over her course materials paid off in the long run. Your gardening skills wouldn't be what they are now without her expertise in agricultural botany.

Then there's your aunt Gia. Oldest of the three. An absolute tank of a woman. No spouse. No kids of her own. She lived off the land like an absolute titan. The woman raised you as if she was the one that carried you for nine months and not your actual birth mother.

How would you describe your parents? If your parents were told to list out their priorities in life, their careers would be at the top of the list and you would be put at the very bottom. Why they carried you to term is beyond your understanding. You later learned that Gia had even offered to take you under her care well before your birth, knowing that your parents might not be well-suited to take care of you in the way she thinks would be beneficial for you. It was a convenient offer that would have saved everyone the trouble years down the line when you had your accident. They worked in a cutthroat industry and were constantly moving up the executive echelons. They had no time for you, yet their pride as a pair of young, successful business magnates made them incapable of seeing past the reality of the situation. That left you mostly in the care of last-minute caretakers and your aunts, but only if they had time from their own busy and preoccupied lives to come out into the city and visit.

You were eight years old when things started to get better, but it was upstarted in the worst possible way. Your parents had to go away for the upcoming weekend for work and left you in the care of a babysitter as per the norm. The babysitter never showed up however and your parents apparently couldn’t be bothered to check up on you even once the entire trip. Their silence wasn’t surprising. You just went on about your business for the next three days on your own like nothing was wrong. Your aunt Gia had even called at one point to check up on you, but you didn’t bother to tell her that your parents had left you to fend for yourself. She would have exploded if you did, but not as much as she did when you woke up in the hospital after falling down the stairs and lying helplessly on the ground for several hours with a dislocated shoulder and a compound-fractured leg. You were lulling in and out of consciousness due to all the medication pumped into you, but what little you do remember seeing and hearing when you regained consciousness will forever stick with you for the rest of your life.

If people think your level of swearing is bad, they should have heard your aunt that day. She swore so viciously that it could set an innocent bystander's eardrums on fire. What will forever stand out the most to you was the fact that your parents didn’t even look the least bit apologetic or regretful. They didn’t even approach you once your aunt was done giving them a piece of her mind to check up on you. They simply talked with the awaiting social worker and doctors and then left. It was for the better, but the small part of you that continued to hold onto the desperate belief that your parents would come around one day sent you into a thrashing frenzy and you had to be sedated before you could hurt yourself anymore.

The next year was spent recovering from your injuries, meeting regularly with your caseworker, and going through therapists like a pack of cigarettes. By the time you were back on your feet and the legal proceedings of your custody case were concluded, all you wanted was to move on with it all. Nearly a decade of neglect left you this unattentive, uncertain husk of a person who couldn’t take a single step forward without looking for some sort of guidance or assurance. Your family was exhausted by the entire ordeal and over speaking with third parties. Your aunts took it upon themselves to help you regain your sense of self in the comfort of your new home, no matter how difficult or demanding it was going to be.

“It took some time, but eventually it clicked in my mind that I was in a better place and I started to get better. As for my parents, I have no clue what they’re up to these days.” You lean back into your chair and let out a shaking yawn. “I like to think they’re getting on well like I am.”

“I don’t understand.” Malleus looks at you with unbelievable confusion. “Your parents treated you poorly, yet you don’t sound the least bit resentful. Why is that?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What’s the point? I'm in a better place now, so I've let bygones be bygones. 'Doesn't mean I don't harbor any anger against them anymore. I do, but getting upset won't change what's happened to me."

Gunter, having sensed your discomfort over the matter, trots over and rests his head on your lap. You gratefully rub the top of his head, carding your hands through his thick, coarse hair. "I'm just glad they let me go without a fuss. Family court was hell for my family.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Expensive too.”

Crackling wood fills the momentary silence that befalls the small cottage. What you've recollected to Malleus is a lot to take in, and if you're being quite honest you'd prefer if he just dropped the subject and talked about literally anything else right now. You hope he doesn't say he's sorry or any other type of apologetic comment. That's all you were ever told that entire year it all happened, during court proceedings, your rehabilitation, by both strangers and distant family members alike.

"I'm so sorry. What happened to you was unfortunate. You didn't deserve it."

No shit you didn't deserve any of that. You were a kid. You don’t need one pity party after another to realize that what took place then had fucked you forever. But as you said earlier, you're in a better place now, with a loving and supportive family that's moved on alongside you. A family you need to get back to as soon as possible.

"I love you."

Well, if he was hoping to take your mind off the past. that certainly did it. How can it not? It came out of nowhere and as good as you are at holding your composure when need be, you're sure you look no less like a gaping fish when warm and plush softness presses right against the corner of your lips. A kiss. His kiss.

"What's wrong?" Your voice sounds shaky. You’re nervous.

"Nothing," he smiles reassuringly. "I simply said what I felt needed to be said."

"Fair enough" you concede easily. He was going to say it sooner or later. He already has actually, now that you think about it. Yet here you are trying to process his words like it’s rocket science.

"Am I going about this too fast perhaps?" he genuinely asks. His hands that have been busy massaging your calves that have settled across his lap somewhere during your long retelling gradually slow down, but his hands never go completely still. "This is my first time experiencing something like this."

"What?" You sit up a bit straighter. "A relationship?"

"Yes."

Your head tilts to the side. "Really?"

He nods hesitantly "Yes?"

For a moment, you go completely quiet. "I don't believe you,” you doubtfully say, head shaking to further showcase your refusal to believe him.

He must not have liked your remark, frowning with clear offense in his eyes. When he dislikes something, the vertical slits in his eyes contract into a thin line. "I cannot lie, yet you still doubt me?"

"I know you can't lie, but I find it hard to believe you haven't been with anyone else before," you explain. Before you can consider the appropriateness that was your newfound curiosity about Malleus's apparently non-existent love life, you blurt out, "Are you still a virgin?"

You slap your hand over your mouth the moment those words come out of it. He's equally caught off guard and nearly drops his warm cup of coffee. Even Gunter is surprised by your question, olive-colored eyes looking at you as if you've lost your mind. It's an invasive question, inappropriate even. You and Malleus have been dating for a little over two days. A question like that is way too early to bring up just yet.

"You don't have to answer that," you tell him behind your palm. "I shouldn't have even asked it. Forget I ever brought it up-”

"I'm not," he interrupts you, leaving you even more shocked than you already are. You’re practically gaping like a fish by now. "I'm not a virgin,” he further insinuates.

A deafening silence, but it’s eventually broken by yourself. “I still don’t believe you.”

Malleus gets further annoyed at your refusal to accept his truth. "I'm not lying!" he insists.

"Bullshit!"

"Do you want me to recount my history to you?" he asks, exasperated as you are at the shift the conversation is taking. "Will that satisfy your doubts?"

"You know what? It will!" you loudly declare. "Who'd you sleep with?"

"He was a young page at the time,” he reminisced. “It happened before I was a century old.”

Your eyebrows raise with intrigue. "Was he cute?"

"Yes," he hushedly agrees. The disconcerting admittance paints his face a pinkish-red glow. "But that's not why I bedded him."

"But surely his looks are what made you interested in the first place?” you make blatant regard of the fact.

“You’re not wrong,” he acknowledges, expertly avoiding agreeing with you outright. “But his looks aren't the sole reason I was drawn to him. He was bright-eyed and ambitious, to the point you’d think him insane given his position in the court. It was also the first time I ever truly met with a group of humans, and my young mind was eager to get a more accurate perspective of humans that wasn’t through the lens of my tutors.”

“An ‘accurate perspective’?” You make playful air quotes, eyebrows wiggling because you know the fact that he knows what you’re implying. The playful comment is met with a sharp pinch on your leg that makes you jump and shriek out in pain. Did he have to dig his nails into you? Apparently so, and now you have small crescent indents on your skin. “I bet Lilia had a good laugh when he found out.”

“He doesn’t know, actually,” he admits to you with what is obviously a proud smile.

“Now I know you’re lying to me,” you scoff. “Nothing escapes the old man’s radar.”

His hands begin to rub out the marks he’s left on you as a form of apology. “Lilia is sharp, but he had lost most of his vigor by the time I was born.”

You go wide-eyed again. “You mean his hearing and eyesight was better than it is now?”

He nods affirmatively. “From what I’ve been told, terrifyingly so.”

Lilia is already frightening as is. His short stature and boyish looks make him perfectly unassuming to those who don’t know any better. You once watched him beat up a couple of bulky, twice-his-height students from Savanaclaw without breaking a sweat, yet moments before he was jokingly scolding himself for dozing off so easily. You never once thought he was ever out of his elements. A cold chill runs down your spine thinking how much more perceptive the older fae may have been back during his prime years.

“Wonder what Lilia’s gonna think,” you ponder out loud in a quick effort to banish out the skin-prickling mental imagery your mind was invoking. “About us, I mean.”

Malleus seems surprised that you would change the topic to that of all things, but his initial shock goes away as quickly as it came. “As you may have guessed, he’s an open-minded individual, but he’s also very realistic and unafraid to say what’s on his mind.”

“So what does that mean for you and me?” you question with a bit of hesitation.

“Well,” he trails off and ponders for a moment. “He’ll surely like the scandal our relationship would invoke. However, as my caretaker and mentor, he won’t hesitate to put an end to it if he feels it necessary.”

Had it been anyone else sitting beside you, you’d have found that comment way too extreme and outright ridiculous. However, you are not speaking to anyone ordinary. You are not sitting before someone normal. It doesn't matter how well you get along with him. It sure as hell doesn't matter how deeply in love you are with him, and him of you. The moment you have been deemed a shortcoming, the outings, the closeness, it all stops. All of it will come crashing down and both you and him will be left wondering what could have been done differently.

Malleus is truly your best friend, because already he can tell that your mind is beginning to spiral even when you go quiet. He calls for your attention by gripping his hand around your bare ankle and carefully tugging the end of your limb. “Don’t fret over it too much,” he soothes, yet also sounding like he’s scolding you for letting your mind wander off so negatively. “Lilia is an exceptional judge of character. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve well exceeded all his marks. He trusts you, and to gain such a thing from someone as old and wise as him is an extraordinary feat.”

You brew over the attempted compliment he tried to pay to you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t snub out all these festering thoughts in your head. It doesn’t even give you temporary relief. Perhaps it would have brought you a sense of peace a few months ago, but with everything that has happened thus far, you doubt even Malleus can alleviate the storm that rattles inside you, even if what he speaks is without a doubt nothing but the truth.

Surely he can see that you are still having some hangups. When you lift his hand and plant a chaste kiss on the back of his hand, you hope he can decipher the gesture as a pitiful request for his forgiveness for dampening the once energetic mood. He is not at fault for your loss and inability to think optimistically at the moment and you need to make sure he knows it.

Today is about him, not you. Even if it’s just for today, you’ll put on a pleasant facade and worry about the rest at a later date. It’s just you and him, and for now, that’s enough.

You do a mental countdown starting from three, before finally giving him a late response to the three words he uttered in confidence to you earlier. “I love you too, by the way.”

You love him. You love him. You love him. That’s all his mind can think of for the rest of the day. He replays your reciprocation over and over like it’s sacred and all-powerful.

He had planned to return to his dorm before the sun began to set, but he found the mere idea of detaching from you deeply unwanted and made the last-minute decision to spend the evening at the Ramshackle dorm. He already has a few articles of clothing and personal essentials set up in one of the many empty rooms, so neither Lilia nor you had any objections at his sudden request.

“Don’t worry!” You shout across the room so that Lilia can hear you over his phone. “I’ll make sure he gets to bed on time!”

“You have my gratitude!” Lilia’s muffled voice responds gratefully. “Don’t cause too much trouble now, you two.”

“No promises~” you sing in jest before Malleus hangs up. Once the call ends Johnny, Benji, Franky, and you turn their attention back to their ongoing game of poker. Malleus watches and occasionally laughs to himself over the friendly banter shared between the quartet. At the end of every round, the winner is assaulted with colorful profanities whilst they take their newly won gambling chips with ebullience. Yet with each new dealing of cards, the animosity goes away and they’re all back to being friendly. He finds your interactions with your incorporeal roommates more entertaining than the book he’s been reading to pass the time.

“Hey, fairy boy,” Franky informally calls out toward him. “Don’t be a stranger now. Play a few rounds with us.”

“I’m afraid I’m not well versed in card games,” he admits, yet he still finds himself setting his literature aside and moving over to join them.

“Don’t worry,” you give him a reassuring smile. “They’ll go easy on you.”

“For how long?” he knowingly asks.

You give him an impressed smirk at his quick uptake. “I give it three rounds before they start to pull back their sleeves.”

Malleus is well-adjusted to the need to quickly learn a new topic and the expectation for him to fully comprehend it in full. None of them are harsh on him for his minor mistakes like some of the tutors he’s had in the past. Answers that he believes may be obvious or not as complicated as he thinks they are being answered with enthusiastic patience. The smallest achievements he makes are met with a proud response. When he makes a surprise turnabout and wins his first game, he’s rewarded with an encouraging round of applause by everyone.

“Not bad,” Benji praises as he shuffles the deck of cards. “You’re a fast learner.”

“So I’ve been told,” he humbly replies. “Is this the part where you all stop going easy on me now?”

“Don’t provoke them,” you half-heartedly warn. “Otherwise we’ll be up all night duking it out otherwise.”

Franky sets his glass of iced liquor down on the edge of the table. “Don’t you little lovebirds worry. We won’t take up too much of your well-needed time together.”

Annoyed at the clear jab at his relationship with you, you throw one of your chips towards his head. It passes through his body and clatters on the floor behind him. Your fawn Blossom jumps down from their spot on the couch and goes to sniff it, thinking it to be food, but walks away with a disappointed strut when he realizes it isn’t anything edible.

“I didn’t tell them a damn thing,” you defensively clarify. “It was so obvious what was going on between us that they figured it all out before we made it official.”

He lets out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s...I can’t say I’m too pleased to hear about that.”

“We won’t say anything,” Franky reassures. “Just make sure to put a sock on the door whenever you guys want some alone time.”

“Franky!” you hiss at him. “What the hell?!”

“What?” he looks at you, unbothered by your clear embarrassment. “Do you honestly expect us to think you guys went out just to look at a bunch of statues?”

“Oh, I’m sure they were looking at something,” Johnny smirks. “It wasn’t made of stone though.”

“I hate you guys,” you growl out, arms crossing and leaning back into your seat with an angry huff. You don’t mean it. He can see the tremble of your lips as you try to contain the urge to grin. “Even if we did end up rolling around in the sheets, I wouldn’t be yapping about it for all to hear, much less you guys!”

“What happens in the gargoyle graveyard stays in the gargoyle graveyard, eh?” Franky winks at both Malleus and you, nudging you with his elbow.

“Exactly!” you affirm, batting the large ghost away from you for some much-needed distance. “Now stop being so damn nosy.”

They cackle one last time and everyone seamlessly goes back to their ongoing game. Conversations like the one that just concluded are commonplace in your dormitory. Even if he contributed next to nothing to the discussion, he enjoys watching them interact. You come from a world where ghosts are hardly as overt as the ones in this world. Ghosts are said to entertain themselves by picking on the living, to the point that it can be fatal. Your ability to come up with witticisms at a moment's notice is something he enjoys seeing in action. He feels great satisfaction not only knowing that he has secured your love but to also see you in a state of tranquility and within your elements.

As Benji and you have a hushed conversation on the sidelines, he reaches over and places his hand on your knee beneath the table. You quietly reach over and put your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb like it’s instinctual. Unfortunately, the heart-fluttering moment is ruined by the sudden buzzing of his phone. He has half a mind to ignore it, but when he gives the screen a glance he realizes ignoring the caller is not an option.

“I’ll be out for a moment,” he excuses himself once he sets his hand down and stands himself upright. “This shouldn’t take that long, hopefully.”

They all stop to look up at him inquisitively for half a second. In unison, they ask, “Sebek?”

“Sebek,” he affirms.

There are simultaneous displays of annoyance, pity, and silent wishes of good luck directed at him. He’s tempted to ask where all this contempt for the boy comes from, but then he remembers the many times Sebek barges his way into their dorm at the worst possible moments. It is either when everyone is beginning to settle down after a long day or in the middle of an important house project, the former more so than the latter now that the dorm is much more stable and in need of less restoration. Malleus learned the hard way how ill you and the ghosts will react when your peace is unwantedly interrupted and your space invaded by an unwanted guest.

Sebek is also quick to scrutinize whatever he sees out loud without a filter. You never seem to mind half of the time, merely rolling your eyes and moving past Sebek’s ill-meaning remarks as if you never heard them. As you are someone Malleus highly regards and holds close to his bosom, he hopes Sebek can one day set aside his strife with humankind and give you the due diligence you deserve.

...Though, he completely understands that reaching that point will take time. While you can endure Sebek to a certain degree, there are times where he, unfortunately, pushes you past that threshold and, without flinching, you will tell him to “Shut the fuck up”. Your words, not his.

“Young master!” Sebek's transmitted voice peaks and he has to half pull it away to give his pained eardrums some relief. “I was informed by Lord Lilia that you will be spending the night over at the Human’s dorm. Have you all your accommodations at their estate? If not, I will swiftly-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he half laughs at his enthusiasm over such a small task. “I have enough to keep me comfortable and well for a few days. Your offer is still very much appreciated.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he stutters. “If there’s anything you should ever find a need for, please inform me at once! I will fulfill your every wishes no matter the hour!”

He’s enthusiastic and ready to act at a moment’s notice, even during the middle of a cold and dark hour. Malleus doesn’t necessarily dislike this part of Sebek, but he’s starting to understand why someone like you would find such subservience difficult to deal with. At any moment, Malleus could ask Sebek to grab some insignificant item of his and tread through the thick snow to deliver it to him, and the boy would do so with jubilation and utmost timeliness. You on the other hand wouldn’t be caught dead ordering someone to do something on your behalf when you believe you are well and capable of doing it yourself.

You don’t put expectations onto the backs of others, choosing to trust yourself first before anyone else. He knows now that it’s a result of the one instance where you expected something from someone, only to be thoroughly let down and left wondering if it was you who did something wrong.

Malleus cannot make up for the pain you’ve been subjected to, but he hopes that he can become the outlier in your life that surpasses any preconceived notions you may hold onto others. He hopes...No, he absolutely will be the one who brings you your well-earned and deserved joy and repose, just as you have done for him and continue to do so.

You love him, and he will ensure he is worthy of every last drop of your fidelity.