#and what little I did know I can't recall anymore

[ask-codeearasure]

I understood the creation vs destruction concept a little bit back in the day, but only when it's under the pretense that both concepts have a lick of corruption to them that needs to be checked and balanced.

This would be under the context that the multiverse is, in fact, a limited space, that there should be a limit on how many universes can exist and that is why Error's genocides are necessary and can be justified, that Ink keeps creating to a point of excess and whoever else is in charge can't manage it all.

In short, I think that idea is either shit or needs to be thought through more (and not many people tend to do that regardless). The entire point of the Multiverse Theory is that there is no limit to what other dimensions, realities, timelines, and universes exist. So the idea that a given multiverse only has so much space could perhaps only fit in a multiverse that has been broken or created with errors in some way. I remember some extent of the whole FGOD ideas have to do with a complete lack of Creators, therefore Ink is made to replace that presence entirely. This could factor into why the multiverse is a limited space, because Ink's imagination is only coming from one person and one fucking person can only be creative in so many avenues. But that likely isn't what it's like in the basic FGOD, is it?

At least, that is the only way I can understand it with the limited information I know right now. The multiverse is Ink's canvas but that canvas can only hold so much, which demands Error's necessity to remove concepts that aren't as important anymore.

This in no way applies to Error or Ink's canon, and generally speaking if we're only going off of canon for them here, they don't know each other. They've never met. But say they did, and I don't recall if Comyet or CQ said this but whatever, they'd be friends. Weird ass friends, but friends nonetheless. There is no battle between creation and destruction between them, and while Error would take his "work" semi-seriously because he's genuinely convinced his genocides are necessary, Ink wouldn't take any part of it as a threat.

In so many words the "the multiverse lacks/needs balance to keep existing" makes no fucking sense, because if a multiverse where Nightmare wins can keep existing but with a complete lack of people cause everyone killed themselves out of unfiltered emotional agony, then Error doesn't truly have the means to make a multiverse crumble.

With every reality Error decimates, there will always be a timeline where that reality still exists. In this manner, Error's job never ends and the multiverse will never be "clear" of anomalies in his eyes, and he knows this and refuses to think about it further than that. In the most contradictory way, which is Error's entire concept of personality, he wants to keep himself relevant in the only way he likes. If he doesn't have that, say he realizes his work cannot be justified anymore, he'll kill himself. I'm pressed to say Ink knows this as well and that's the exact reason why Error's bullshit doesn't bother them in the slightest. It's still a story.

It would be more interesting if these characters learn to give no fucks about whatever kind of "balance" the multiverse has, because the multiverse and Creators themselves keep fucking contradicting their claims and there's no longer a reason to worry about the multiverse itself collapsing.

Dream in general gives more fucks about the quality of life of individual people, and without people, his purpose for existing doesn't have a reason to stick around. His goal is to mitigate the excess of negativity and have it so both negativity and positivity can exist in tandem, after all. The whole negativity vs positivity balance thing was never a competition for him because he understands the necessity of having both.

The other two endings for Dreamtale are ignored as fuck too, for the sake of Nightmare. And this is the part that actually ticks me off some, cause the endings where Nightmare is defeated, Dream's brother cannot be brought back, and Dream either becomes the guardian of ALL EMOTIONS or kills himself to make the next Tree of Feelings with his and what's left of Nightmare's soul, are NEVER explored or given any thought. All that matters is Nightmare Nightmare Nightmare, but never Dream and what this variation of him would do in the sudden complete absence of Nightmare throughout the multiverse.

Those are the two options Dream is left with when no one else can take up the mantle of holding negativity. Dreamtale could either be restarted in a manner of speaking, or he progresses as the guardian of both kinds of emotions like Nim was, because he is the only one left who can do either of these things.

Fuck, dude, there are so many complexities with these characters and how they truly affect the multiverse in their canons that are either written out of the next version or completely fucking ignored.

But perhaps I'm just biased and appear a bit threatening here, because acknowledging that one of my favorite AUs has been fucked over by this fandom makes me openly pissed off. Sue me for thinking critically I guess.

All of this ranting is to say the "destruction vs creation" and "positivity vs negativity" "wars" are fundamentally bullshit and that becomes even more obvious when you bother to think more about the backgrounds of Ink, Error, Dream, and Nightmare and how their shit actually does affect the multiverse (with Corrupted!Nightmare having the greatest power to fuck everyone else over), aside from taking the prior concepts at face-fucking-value.

The first version of FGOD was made by a fuckin kid and on a whim at that last I was told anyways, they can't exactly be faulted for it.

-- Sarco

can we all agree that both existing balances (positive/negative and creation/destruction) are kinda bs.

destruction isnt a necessity. and while negativity is needed somewhat, its not needed to a point where whole universes have to suffer. to where there needs to be a group that spreads it.

like yeahhhh i know im the forced god of destruction error guy but like. thats like. canon fgod is very heavy on the fact that necessary destruction is bullshit.

and the aus i make are like... they dont focus on the negativity part as much as the destruction, but i feel like at least @ask-fgod says that negativity isnt really that needed.

Context.

Tbh I can somewhat understand the balance between negativity and positivity, my thing is that the balance should already be in negativity’s—Nightmare’s—favor almost completely by the time Dream gets out of stone.

Like, Nightmare had anywhere from 400-500 years to do whatever he wanted, and people want me to believe he didn’t go around spreading negativity until the “balance” was more than likely in his favor? If not, then what the hell was he even doing all those years.

If the balance was truly leaning more towards Dream’s favor even after all those 400-500 years, to the point that Nightmare has to recruit murderers into his little cult and start enacting acts of terrorism across the Multiverse, then either he’s lying straight through his teeth, genuinely believes what he’s saying despite everything going against it, or he has no one but himself to blame for the state of the “balance.”

Not to mention, in Dreamtale’s canon, Dream is basically constantly on the move—on the run—from Nightmare, and in the case of the Bad Sanses, Nightmare and his goons. Because if Nightmare gets the last Golden Apple then the balance will well and truly slip into Nightmare’s favor, and plunge the Multiverse into negativity.

This means Nightmare and his goons would be actively hunting Dream down. This could happen either before the Star Sanses ever formed, if they never formed at all, or even after the Star Sanses disband.

Maybe Dream and the Stars did try to put up a fight against Nightmare and his gang, but infighting and negativity ironically won out, and they disbanded; leaving Dream on the run once again.

Having to keep moving from place to place, avoiding staying in one spot for too long, avoiding making new connections and straining any remaining ones he likely still has—such as with Swap or Ink.

Now the supposed balance between destruction and creativity isn’t one that really makes any sense to me, though. I know that this particular balance seems to somewhat exist in Dreamtale, or at least it used to, and that’s one reason why Dream was stated to be able to understand Error. Because in Dreamtale, Error at least seems to be viewed by some as simply doing his job or his purpose.

But I don’t recall this particular balance being a thing in either Error or Ink’s canon, just another fanon concept that got popular. Comyet has even stated that Ink isn’t some sort of God and doesn’t create AUs, he appointed himself as the Protector of AUs. He encourages artists and their creativity, he supports and protects their work, but they’re not creating AUs themself.

So for me personally, when it comes to the twins, I can understand the balance being a thing for possible motives; only people always portray it as if the balance isn’t already in Nightmare’s favor.

Acknowledging this means acknowledging that the only purpose Nightmare would have for a gang of murderers would be to spread further negativity for him, and help him hunt down and capture Dream.

Therefore he is not simply just “doing his job,” he’s going above and beyond and spreading too much negativity. He’s the one out of control, and either he doesn’t realize this, or he does and just doesn’t care—or maybe he’s even pleased, because the balance being in his favor leads him closer to whatever wider, Multiversal wide plans he has.

[running-in-the-dark]

I have like... two days (max) to come up with a new research question for my bachelor thesis. I HAVE TO officially register/sign up or whatever next week. that's the only way I'll be able to finish it + the oral examination part before my course stops existing at the end of February (my advisor basically assured me that the examination office wouldn't let me register after the end of October).

fuck, I was so motivated last month! I felt ready, I felt good about it, I was sure I'd be able to do it! and then that stupid fucking meeting with my advisor happened and now I feel more defeated and hopeless than ever before. I feel stupid. I feel like I can't possibly do this.

there's just nothing in my brain. it's empty. all knowledge from my entire time at uni (and school) has vanished. the last, oh I don't know, eight fucking years have just been too much. I really don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I'm able to. I don't know how to start over again.

[impish-baby]

More dad survivor x zombie reader + an old friend :) (tw: dead animal, guns, emetophobia, threats of harm)

"Aw, sugar.." The dead bird is the farthest thing from appetizing but you look so darn happy offering it to him, how's he supposed to say no?

"You're the sweetest, daddy will eat it later, ok?" That at least seems to be satisfactory enough for now, as you drop the poor thing down onto the park table.

The playground has long been abandoned, left in disarray since the apocalypse hit, that doesnt stop Hank from finding it absolutely adorable when you try to climb up a slide. Nearly gives him a heart attack though.

"Baby, come on, you're gonna hurt yourself." He wonders if you remember being little and playing here, your memory isn't the best when it comes to some things but you sure seem to recall what it takes to give him gray hairs. "I know you think it's fun, but your old man really couldn't handle it if you got scratched up while you're messing around."

You get hurt so easily now a days, he's basically toddler proofed the house all over again and yet you still find a way to bang yourself up when he's not around, that's why he's taken to tying you up when he can't keep an eye on you.

When you do finally decide to slide back down, Hank immediately sweeps you up into his arms with a soft chuckle. "Alright, alright, I think you've had enough outside time for today, we should be headin' home."

It would've been a good day, a great one even, if he didn't catch the glittering of a silver barrel from the corner of his eye.

"Shit-" Hank has never been more greatful that he was holding you, because you lunge automatically for the stranger and likewise closer to the gun. "No, sweetheart, shhh..shh..calm down.." God, he'd love it if you listened, it's hard to pull out his own pistol while trying to wrangle you into staying put.

Other survivors aren't very common in town, most people left after the first few months.

"You gonna let that thing go so I can shoot it?" He recognizes that voice, and it makes Hank's heart sink into a pit in his stomach. "I ain't.. Hank?" A familiar face is rare, a friendly familiar face is nearly unheard of.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot, just step back for a minute, alright?" When Hank glances over, he wasn't expecting Bo to be emptying his stomach onto the cement.

"I- Fuck-" The man retches again, dryheaving. "You.. God, the kid.." An honorary uncle, Bo knew you since the day you where born, he didn't see the day that was meant to be your last.

"I know," You stopped struggling once you heard his voice, eyes wide as you simply whine to be let down. "You're gonna have to wait, be patient, hun." That never was your strong suit. "The grown ups need to talk."

"Hank.. man, you gotta let them go.." There's tears in Bo's eyes as he takes a cautious step forward. "They're dead. There aren't any ifs or buts, that's a corpse. You can't-"

"That is my child," He's been a sinner for a long time, if it comes down to it, shooting his brother will be one of his worst. "My baby, what kind of father am I to hurt them?"

"A merciful one!" There are days you wake up confused and scared, you cry for hours or at least your body tries to. "They aren't a person anymore, Hank, they aren't themselves. You're fucking lucky they haven't bitten you yet!"

"I'd welcome it if they did." He's thought about it, that first night when you went cold in his arms and many more after that. "You pull that trigger and that's it, a life without my kid isn't worth living."

"Dammit," Hank almost collapses in relief as the gun is holstered, putting his away as well. "You're still an idiot, huh? Figures.."

Bo approaches slowly, never taking his eyes off your still form. All you do is smile and try to reach out for a hug, but he cringes away with a look of disgust.

Hank's heart breaks as you tuck your teary face against his neck. He doesn't know how to explain in a way you'd still understand, all he can is press a kiss to your forehead and shush your sniffles.

[sincerelyneo]

sunflower vol 6 | l.hc

“i couldn’t want you anymore, kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor”

💿now playing: sunflower vol 6 by harry styles

❯ summary: Let’s make dinner together, he said. I’ll behave, he said. Honestly, you should have known that was a lie because when it comes to you, Haechan is never on his best behaviour. That’s why he’s sneaking sly touches every time you complete a step in your recipe.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, fluff, suggestive content

❯ words: 1.4k

❯ tags: tooth rotting fluff, domesticated fluff, swearing, kissing, pet names, literally just hyuck being so boyfriend and them dancing in the kitchen together.

an: i’m a firm believer that harry styles wrote this song about haechan

Hyuck bursts through the front door with a sense of urgency, unable to contain his excitement. It's been months since he last saw you, his girlfriend whom he's more than just a little obsessed with, and the door feels like just another barrier in his way. He thought his job, which requires him to tour for half the year, was obstacle enough.

"Baby, I'm home!" he calls out eagerly, scanning the apartment for any sign of you. Disappointment flickers across his face when he doesn't immediately spot you waiting for him with open arms.

The honeyed tone of his voice instead echoes from the living room to your bedroom, drawing you to him like a magnet. Without wasting a moment, you rush down the stairs and wrap your arms around his neck.

You melt into each other effortlessly, as you always do. Your bodies seem custom-made for one another, fitting together perfectly. You've missed his touch, his warmth, in a way that FaceTime calls could never fulfil. Nothing compares to the physical presence of your Hyuck.

You plant a gentle kiss on the soft skin of his cheek before pulling back to meet his gaze. "You weren't supposed to be home for another four hours. What's going on?"

"I got an earlier flight because I missed you so much," he replies with a grin. 

You shake your head, but a smile still tugs at your lips. You've never encountered a man more smitten and in love than him. It's endearing, really. It's the kind of love his friends would tease him about if he didn't take so much pride in it.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to process the fact that he's here in your living room. You're happy, of course, but you had hoped to be all dolled up for his arrival, not standing in old pyjamas after months apart

"Well... are you hungry? We could order takeout if you want. You can tell me all about that tour that's kept you away from me for what feels like forever," you suggest with a smile, and his eyes soften at the invitation

"Babyyy," he whines, catching you off guard a little. His hands slide to your back, pulling you in by your waist as he plants a kiss on top of your head. "Can't we make dinner together?"

You raise an eyebrow, pulling away to look up at him, his hands still wrapped around you. "By 'we,' you mean me?"

"Of course not. You know I make an excellent sous chef. Restaurants should be grateful I chose music instead of culinary arts.” 

You shake your head, with a grin. "We never get anything done when we cook together. Remember last time?"

He smirks, recalling the memory. "It's not my fault you asked me to get something out of the fridge, and when I turned around, you were bent over the counter showing your ass to me. I couldn't help myself."

You give him a deadpan look but he only smirks more.

"And if we're being honest, I remember you loving it." His arms cross over his chest, the satisfaction in him beaming from knowing that you know he's right. You did enjoy those steamy cooking sessions, but not right now; you're hungry.

"Please, baby, I missed your cooking. Nothing any restaurant can make compares to your food," he pleads. "I'll be on my best behaviour."

And although you know better, and you know that there’s no such thing as "best behaviour" with Lee Donghyuck, you still can't resist. And so, you give in. 

Surprisingly, everything goes well. Hyuck isn’t too much of a distraction; instead, he follows your instructions without protest. He grabs ingredients, chops vegetables, and even compliments the head chef— and nothing catches fire.

Progress is being made.

That is until your boyfriend finishes the little tasks you assign him and wraps his arms around your waist while you chop ingredients.

“Hyuck… you promised—”

His plush lips melt against your neck so delicately that you nearly chop off your finger—though Hyuck won’t let that happen, gripping your hands to steady them. He chuckles softly, his lips quirking against your skin.

“I know what I said, Y/N,” he teases. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You’re not trying to help; you’re trying to distract.”

He laughs, “You know… I bought a new record while I was on tour. It has that one song you love.”

You pause, setting the knife down and pressing your hands against the counter as you turn to face him.

“Oh yeah?”

He nods, “I think we should play it while you cook.”

“I thought we were supposed to be cooking together?” 

Hyuck simply chuckles as he heads over to the record player in your kitchen and sets the record spinning. Soft guitar notes fill the space, and despite your need to focus, you can’t help but smile.

You watch as he dances across the cool kitchen tiles, a smirk on his lips, until he stands behind you. His hand finds your elbow, gently pulling you backwards.

The laugh that spills from you is warm and Hyuck matches it as his hands drift down your arms to your hands, fingers threading together before he pulls you back into his broad, solid chest. 

Strong arms cross your own chest, and the two of you start to sway against each other. The music is quiet and grainy and mixed with the sound of your feet creaking on the floor. 

The two of you float back and forth—a stream of sunlight streams in through the high window. You close your eyes and let the light shift across your eyelids. Hyuck’s lips find your ear, singing softly. The sound was gentle and sweet and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’ll never forget the moment I realised I love you.”

You sink further against him, your voice humming as you ask, “Yeah? When was that?”

“The minute I saw you,” he breathes. “You were dancing so carelessly, and I knew then—you were my person. You’ll always be my person.”

You’re grinning like an idiot despite rolling your eyes as you let go of Hyuck’s hands and turn around in his arms. You slide your palms up his chest to wind around the back of his neck, pressing your foreheads together. 

“You’re so cheesy.”

“And you love it,” he responds easily, smiling with his eyes closed as he continues to sway with you in the tiny kitchen of your tiny apartment. You nod, leaning forward to knock your noses together gently with an exaggerated sigh.

“I do. And I love you. I wouldn’t want to spend a minute loving anybody else.”

Hyuck hums, pulling you in closer and starts walking you backwards slowly until your hips rest against the counter. He dips down, curling his hands around the backs of your thighs and effortlessly hoists you up to sit on the edge. You open your eyes and run your fingers through his hair, twisting a perfect little strand around your finger just the way he likes it.

He looks back at you, eyes filled with patience and love. Then he leans in, drawing you into a soft, lazy kiss—because he’s finally home, because he can, because he loves doing it, because it’s all he ever wants to do from now until forever.  You melt against his chest, pressing up into the contact. When you break apart, Hyuck rests his lips against your temple, swaying gently with you in his arms.

“I’m so in love with you,” He says softly.

You rest your cheek against his shoulder and brush your nose back and forth against his neck as you close your eyes and smile.

“I love you too, Hyuck.”

You linger in the warmth of his touch until the sharp beeping of the oven interrupts the moment. You pull away slightly, frowning at the oven’s display.

“Ugh, I forgot I put that in there!” you exclaim, glancing over your shoulder to see smoke beginning to curl from the edges.

Hyuck chuckles, but there is no concern creeping into his voice. “Can’t believe my first meal home is going to be charcoal.” 

You rush to the oven, Hyuck close behind. As you open the door, a plume of smoke escapes, and you cough. 

“This is totally your fault! What happened to you not being distracting?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, leaning down to plant another soft kiss on your lips. “What can I say? I’m obsessed with you.”

[stvrnzcherries]

› BRUTAL

c. sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: Chris got into a fight with his girlfriend Paige and you comforted him until things led to another...

warnings: dom!chris, angst, smut, fingering, degrading kink, make out, pet names, cheating, alcohol, use of y/n, throwing up, toxic relationship.

word count: 2.4k

You were at a house party that a few friends of the triplets organized. You were near the drinks table with Nick and Madi while Matt, Chris, and his girlfriend Paige were on the other side of the house. The thing is that you’re drunk right now and you can't help but stare at Chris, the way he caresses Paige's waist, the way he leans to whisper dirty little things to her, you want that, you want to be the one that he says those things, you want to be the one he can touch, love, crave for.

And it killed you that she was perfect and you felt like you would never be like her.

Little did you know...

“Y/n!” Nick snaps you out of your trance waving a hand across your face.

“Sorry, sorry! What were you saying?” You asked while you kept glaring at Chris’ direction.

“Do you want to play beer pong with us?” He asked once again

You nodded and that's when you saw Chris leaving with Paige upstairs.

Ouch.

This shouldn't be affecting you this much, but it hurts like hell. You can’t even recall when you started to feel this way about him, but it drove you crazy.

“Sure, but I kinda need some water…” And that’s when you felt it, your stomach turning, feeling the lump forming in your throat, this was the moment where your decision to get drunk would make you suffer the consequences for it. Kneeling on the floor, wrapping your arms around your stomach, feeling the acid making you gag, your first instinct was to pick up your cup and throw up on the inside, If you were going to humiliate yourself, the least you could do was to not make a mess on the fucking floor.

Feeling the sensation wear off slightly after literally throwing up your intestines (or at least that’s how it felt) you tried to stand up. Failing miserably, causing Nick and Madi to pick you up and rest your left arm around Nick’s shoulders and your right arm on Madi’s shoulders, trying to carry you to the bathroom as fast as they could.

Chris' POV

I went upstairs with Paige since she needed to talk to me. I think I’ve never felt so anxious in my life as I do right now. That’s when we got there and the conversation in reality was just Paige complaining about a trip I was going on with my brothers in a few days. “I just don’t understand why can’t you stay here with me!” she yelled.

“I already told you a few weeks ago that I’m not canceling another trip with my brothers just because you feel like not letting me go, you’re not my fucking mother to tell me where I can go or not, what I can do or not! Because guess what, Paige, I can do the fuck I want.” I snapped back, making Paige turn around and slap me harshly, leaving a red mark across my cheek.

I held my cheek, not feeling slightly shocked anymore since this started way back ago, I could tell by her face that she regretted it instantly.

“Chris, baby…” she tried to place her hand on the spot where she marked, making me pull away from her touch.

“And now you just gave me more reasons to go on that fucking trip,” I added between sobs, trying to hold back the tears, turning my back to her.

"Please, don't leave me… I can fix this..." She gripped my arm.

"As far as I remember, you mentioned the same thing last time we fought." The resentment showed up in my voice, but I couldn't help it. How could someone so perfect turn into a complete monster? How can someone hurt someone they love?

And when I left the room, I would rather not see her face or hear her voice.

Y/n’s POV

You were in the bathroom throwing up while Madi was making you a ponytail and Nick rubbed your back. This night couldn’t get any worse. “Shit,” Nick murmured as you let your head rest on his shoulder, feeling way better than how you were.

“What?” Madi asked, her voice sounding tense.

“Matt just texted me we’re leaving right now.” You sat up straight, panicking, “What do you mean? I thought we all agreed to go until 1:00 AM…”

He scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah, well, there’s a change of plans.”

You checked your phone, and it was only midnight, “You guys should convince Matt if we can go in 30 minutes?”

They looked at each other and then back at you, “We won’t leave you here, y/n.”

“I’ll be fine, guys don’t need to worry about me.” You smiled at both of them.

Nick shook his head. “I’ll just text Chris to ask him if he can try to convince Matt to let us stay a little longer.” He spoke as he started to type on his phone. “We’re not leaving you here alone, end of the conversation.”

"Alright, Dad," you replied jokingly, having as a response an eye roll from Nick as he was about to laugh.

Thirty minutes had passed, and the three of you were still inside the bathroom waiting for Chris’ answer. “Did he text you already?” You asked as you rinsed your mouth with some mouthwash to get rid of the disgusting sour taste you had.

"Yes, and he's giving me a headache already!" Nick answered as he kept texting back and forth with whom you supposed was Chris, "He won't stop being a fucking baby, and it's bitch complaining to me that Matt keeps insisting that we have to go now."

"Well...maybe we should try to—" You got interrupted by a knock on the bathroom door, you all looked at each other confused.

As you open the door, you see a long-haired brunette and a pair of pretty blue eyes.

It was Chris. His eyes seemed puffy and a little red as if he were crying. “Is Nick here?” Anger was plastered on his face.

That’s when Nick stood up and opened the bathroom door, “What the fuck, Chris? Can’t you do a simple task?” causing Chris to scoff “And you clearly can’t read. I texted you back saying that Matt didn’t give a shit about you guys needing more time. He wants to go now.”

“Did you explain to him that y/n is not feeling well right now?” Nick snapped back, crossing his arms.

Chris rubbed his face with both his hands before scanning your entire face. “Isn’t she okay now?”

“Chris! She could barely walk by herself a few minutes ago, why’s is it so hard for you to do a fucking favor and ask our brother to give us some time?!” Nick answered, his voice rising.

“Because I don’t understand why the fuck you guys need more time, y/n look completely fine, and you’re making a huge fucking deal out of it!” Chris’ voice also got a little louder.

“Because it will be a fucking huge deal when she’s throwing up all over the fucking car!” He shouted.

Chris’ jaw clenched.

“Then why don’t you ask Matt, since it’s such a big deal, huh?”

“Fine, I’ll fucking go and instead you and y/n will stay here while Madi and I sort this out since it’s so difficult for you.” Nick left the bathroom, Madi following his pace as Chris moved out of the way so they could get out.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to—” Chris shut the door behind him and looked at you, tears forming in his eyes. Your first instinct was to hug him.

He just cried as silently as he could. You guessed that alcohol hits him differently than it does to you. He dragged you closer by wrapping his arms around your waist, and you began to stroke his hair. “Everything’s going to be alright, Chris.”

“No, it’s not, I’m a fucking burden to everybody and,” His sobs getting louder than before. “First, I fought with Paige and now Nick.”

You pulled back to look at his face, pulling his chin up so he could look at you, “You’re not a burden to no one, Chris.” You said, “You’re like the sun, and when the sun comes out, everyone smiles.” You kept talking, caressing his right cheek with your thumb, “Besides, whatever you and Paige fought about was just because she was drunk, it’ll pass.”

He just nodded and then rested his face on the crook of your neck and kept crying a little.

A few minutes had passed, you and Chris were sitting on the bathroom floor, laughing and talking a little.

“You know, If I’m being honest…I kind of envy Paige.” You said while looking up at the ceiling.

“Why?” Chris replied, furrowing his brows slightly

“Because she’s so beautiful and I’m not…” You admitted.

“Well that’s not true, you are really beautiful too.” He looked at you and smiled.

Beautiful, he called you beautiful.

A buzz sound came from Chris’ phone, he picked it up and looked at the screen. “It’s Nick.”

“What he said?”

“Matt accepted to stay a little more.”

“Excellent! This means I can finally get out of this bathroom.” You stood up and fixed your dress a bit, offering a hand to Chris.

He took your hand and stood up, as he was looking at you. His eyes shifted from your eyes to your lips.

And that’s when you noticed how your faces were just inches apart, feeling his breath hitting your face softly. “Chris…”

“Y/n…”

His palms were resting now on your cheeks, your mouths almost touching, “Do you want to kiss me, hm?” He suggested, grazing his lips against yours teasingly, causing you to shiver a little.

Of course, you wanted it, but was it right? Will he regret it? Will you regret it?

Something snapped you back from reality, cold hands running on your lower back down to your ass, gripping it slightly, “I asked you something.” His voice shifted to a demanding tone.

Fuck it.

You crush your lips against his. At first, it was sloppy, both fighting for dominance, he kept his grip on your ass, gripping it harder. Making you gasp.

And that’s when he gets the chance to slide his tongue inside your mouth, taking control of the kiss. Your body pressed against the cold marble sink that was right behind you, his hands now resting on the sides of your hips. Chris picked you up from your thighs and sat you up on the bathroom sink. Lifting your dress to reveal your black laced panties.

His hand snaked down to your inner thigh. His kisses lowered from your mouth to your jaw and then to your neck. His fingers finally got to your heat, your panties soaking wet. “You’re so wet for me.” He whispered, causing you to whimper a bit. He pulled your panties to the side and began to rub in circles your sensitive nub, whimpers coming out of your mouth. Shaking breaths, your hands gripping on the sink, your knuckles getting white.

“You fucking like that, don’t you?” Chris asked through gritted teeth, applying more pressure on your clit. You nodded but that made things worse, “You better use your fucking words, y/n. Or else I’ll stop and leave you all alone.”

“Y-yes, I l-like i-it.” You handled letting out. Chris smirked and kept stroking your clit. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, your head resting against the mirror wall, feeling the wave of pleasure consuming you. “Fuck…”

But then, the pleasure stopped. You opened your eyes and looked at Chris, he was smirking at you while he sucked his fingers, guiding them back to your throbbing pussy. Slipping them inside you, painfully slow. Your walls clench around his fingers, your legs squeezing with each other, a loud gasp coming out from you. Chris began to pick up his pace, thrusting his fingers in and out of you “Just like that, keep making those pretty noises for me like a good girl.” He groaned, intensifying his speed with each thrust.

He looked down where his fingers were working their way to bring you over the edge, you let pornographic moans out of your mouth, giving Chris what he wants.

Control.

“You look so fucking pathetic right now.” He grabbed your chin with his free hand and forced you to see him, his eyes darkened and full of desire. “Don’t you think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me? You fucking slut.” Chris whispered to you, pumping his fingers mercilessly in and out of you. “You wanted this? You wanted me to finger you?”

You nodded desperately, feeling the well-known knot forming inside of you, you were about to come. “I-I’m so c-close,” you mumbled. “What was that?” He gripped your chin tighter. Your hands grasp tighter on the bathroom sink, your climax getting closer and closer with each thrust. “Don’t stop, fuck.” You spat, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt finally getting to the edge.

“I won't.” He replied, getting closer to leave a few hickeys on your collarbone and the crook of your neck. That's when you felt your release “Fuck!” a loud moan coming out from you, your walls clenching around Chris’ fingers. Your juices flooded all over his fingers. Chris took out his fingers, a popping sound as he did. Your chest goes up and down violently, and your breath is heavy.

He looked at his fingers then at you, “Open your eyes, now.” You open your eyes slowly to get the view of Chris cleaning out his fingers until there isn't a single drop of your juices around his fingers. “You taste so fucking good, ma.”

What the fuck was going on tonight.

You were in the backseat with Nick and Madi, gossiping about tonight's party “It was fun.” Nick admitted.

“Yeah, I think I’m not going to parties anymore,” Matt added.

And there was Chris, glancing at you a few times before they left you at your apartment.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, alright?” You said to them as you waved at them.

You're finally in a quieter place, where you can think about what just happened tonight with Chris.

It finally happened, you finally got what you wanted with Chris and even more.

But it wasn’t enough, you craved for more.

But then, reality hits.

He was still with Paige, and you were just a distraction to him.

Or that’s what you thought until…

You got a text from someone.

It was Chris.

a/n: not the best one-shots ever but here you go!!! Lmk if there are any mistakes!

Tag list: @sturniolossss @tillies33ssss @chrisloyalgf @alorsxsturn

[fluff-n-cookies]

Dabi simply adores you, his precious daughter. But he didn’t always love you.

Part 2

Warnings: attempted murder (failed), canon typical violence, robberies, alcohol+drugs, references to child neglect, implied pedophilia (nothing graphic, and not towards reader), teenage parenthood, minor swearing.

reader has blue eyes like Dabi's.

let me know if you spot anymore.

note: I swear, it's not that bad, just fluff with kinda angsty undertones, cuz' it's Dabi! what do you want

I mean, he was only a teenager when he had you, fresh to the villain business at the wonderful age of 16 and a half. He decided it’d be a wonderful time to drink his sorrows away one night, one horrid, awful night. He ended up fucking a woman he did not know, who was surely much older than he, in the back alley of a bar in the worse parts of town. Amidst the filth of the nearby dumpster, it was here that he would make the single worst decision of his life, either that, or the best. He really doesn’t know.

but alas, he ended up with a little swaddled baby 9 months later when the same woman angrily shoved you into his arms, declaring something unintelligible before storming out of the bar again. Dabi, who at the time was drunk and higher than a kite. didn't react. when you started crying, he didn't react. when you cried louder, thrashing around in his hold he still didn't react. he was in his own world at that moment, shutting out everything except the burn of the cheep beer going down his throat. it wasn't until he was kicked out of the bar along with you for being too disruptive and he fell asleep in one of the abandoned buildings nearby only to wake up hung over and disoriented did he realize what he had done; when he saw a quite malnourished baby laying down on his jacket that he chucked on the floor last night. your swaddle all dirty by now.

he did nothing but stare at you for a while, the pounding in his head as well as the harsh rays of the mid day sun didn't help much. He was still just a kid, a villain too, and homeless. he wasn't ready to have a child. for a split second he thought of leaving you there, God, you looked just like Fuyumi when she was a baby. but you looked worse, like you were barely living. had you... had you died during the night? he stumbled to your side of the room, trying his best to avoid the rumble of the deteriorating building. it would truly have been a miracle if you happened to survive in such conditions.

carefully, he flipped you onto your back, putting a warm hand on your chest. god. you were barely breathing. barely responding too. Dabi's breath hitched, had he nearly killed his own child? he stayed like there for a few moments. looking right at you. he really had no idea what to do. you're already on the verge of death, if you died right now, would it really matter? you've been on this earth for only a few days it seems, your mother left you with a villainous teenage father who could let you wither away in an abandoned building.

if you were to die right now. he could spare you the pain of having to live with him, you'd never have to know the horrors of life.

he could just light one flame,

let it fill the room with smoke,

and watch as your lungs give up

and you simply stop breathing.

...

you'd just be another person who never got to see their future.

Gently, he stroked your tiny chubby cheek with a warm finger.

he nearly laughed at the thought, killing his first child, just like his own father had done with him. he pulled you into his arms, preparing to hold a small flame right up to your face until your fragile little body couldn't take it anymore. then he'd leave your body here as he burns down the rest of the building. a fitting memorial. but before he could do anything,

he paused - you - you squirmed in his hold. cracking open your eyes to stare at him with soulless blue eyes that mirrored his own, tried and scared. an expression that surely should never be on the face of a child.

Dabi truly can't quite recall what happened in that moment when he held you in his arms. all he remembers is a clenching in his heart. maybe it was the alcohol and the drugs. but he felt the emptiness and the pain. the gut wrenching, soul crushing pain, the type that he felt whenever his father would ignore him, again and again. he pain he felt when he saw his childhood home again after so many years, only to find that nothing had changed; he was forever gone and no body gave a fuck.

but- you. just you. you were just like him. you wanted nothing more than a little bit of love. would it truly be so bad if he gave it to you? he'd keep you around, for a while at least.

that's what he told himself as he found himself stealing diapers and baby powder and formula and what not from a convenience store, only to fuck up making formula and changing a baby. he did a little victory dance with you in his arms when he finally figured it out.

but that's only after he managed to get some midwife or other doctor to do a lil' check up on you. (only to knock them out for the police to find their body hours later.) anxiously analyzing everything the doctor was doing, making mental notes to himself to have you try and eat better.

he tended to do more robberies and muggings these days, only to spend it all on a shabby little one bedroom condo in one of the cheaper (and by proxy, crime ridden) parts of the city. it was better than being a single parent living on the streets I guess.

he ended up turning the bedroom into your nursery, if you would call a room that could barely hold a twin sized bed, full of nothing but a crib, a small closet full of dirty clothes, and a big stack of baby products in one corner; a nursery. he instead slept on the couch most nights. but he would forever find himself running back into your room whenever you would cry, he almost always ended up letting you sleep on his chest on the couch. both arms slung over your tiny body so there would never be a chance you'd fall out of his grip.

but life got better with time it seems. he started taking bigger jobs, bank robberies, sometimes murders every now and then. he built a good reputation for himself. and you. you grew on him. who was once a fragile little thing, right to death's doorstep. now, when you smiled, he felt ever so full of life.

he liked how you would always wait by the door after he went out to run an "errand", always being right where he left you and babbling happily when he came back. making a little gesture to be picked up and carried.

he liked how you tended to boss him around most of the time. you could point to where you wanted to go and he would happily carry you there. he isn't even aware of what he's doing, you could yell at him (as best as a baby can anyways) and he'd meet your demands near instantly without much complaint. someone else would have to point it out for him to notice.

he especially liked how you would stare at him with wide eyes as he would smoke on the balcony with the glass door shut. every night, it was a routine, just after dinner, Dabi would snag a pack of cigarettes, and sit outside on the balcony to smoke, occasionally looking back inside through the glass door to see what you were doing. he would put on a little cartoon or set out some toys for you. and while that'd keep you entertained for a while, you'd still drift towards him, looking back at him through the glass to try and get his attention. his smoke breaks kept getting shorter and shorter because of that.

he liked how every time he woke up, you would always be with him. looking up at him with those big blue eyes that he gave you. especially the way you'd always look at him with nothing but love and joy.

the same eyes that he used to look at his own father with disdain and fury.

he'll joke around that you're too clingy, always following him, attached to the hip, quite literally with how often he holds you on his hip. But deep down he knows he'd be torn apart if you were gone from him for even one hour. he can't live without your little hugs and giggles and stupid playtime's and everything. please, your love means the world to him.

but he was still only ever a boy, a boy who never quite got to grow up the way he was meant to. but you will forever be the reason he'd try and be a man. for his little girl. he remembers how he'd make more frequent trips to the grocery store, how he'd stock up on medicine for kids, how he'd buy cleaning supplies to somehow make the rinky dinky condo you both live in a tad bit more suitable for a child.

you're the reason he even joined the league. this world has already killed him, and while he was given a second chance as Dabi will it really ever be the same?

but you. you are so full of life, so perfect, awaiting a future unknown. he'll sculpt this world with the second chance he's been given. for your father, Touya, may be dead, but Dabi is not, and he is very much ready to give you what he never had, even if he dies again in the process.

but with the league comes responsibility, a time consuming responsibility. gone are the days when he'd lounge around at home all day and only leave to take you to the playground or grocery shopping, and the occasional robbery when he was low on cash. now he was busy! can you believe it? now Dabi may have skipped nearly all of high school but he wasn't that stupid enough to leave a child home alone for hours on end. hence, he came to the conclusion of daycare. the horrid, horrid daycare.

he nearly cried when he realized his little girl was growing up so fast, it seemed like just last week he was holding you on his hip as he heated up a bottle of formula in his hand to finally get you to shut up and sleep. that only a couple days ago you walked your first ever steps after he came home early with your favorite snacks. he wasn't even able to record it he was too busy sobbing as you held onto his legs to steady yourself waiting for him to pick you up. it literally felt like yesterday you said your first words, "baba" after he jokingly started calling you cry baby.

this actually led to quite a lot of problematic nicknames, cry baby became Babs and Babs became bun and bun became bunny and bunny---- (i'm losing it as I write this.)

but nonetheless, it hurts. so every morning he'll wake up at the crack of dawn to haul you out of bed and get you all pretty and dolled up for the day. he lets you choose your shirt and pants and bows and what not. tying up your little baby sized shoes to take you to the next district over. now, he would've enrolled you into a daycare much closer to home but he really wants you to be safe, and unfortunately anything and everything in your neighborhood without his supervision is not and never will be, considered safe. so he'd much rather escort you via public transport to the richer neighborhoods every single morning than have you be in danger of any kind. sure, you're a little out of place, with thrifted clothes and frizzled up hair from only ever using your dad's 4-in-1 shampoo. and he's definitely out place. hence why he never quite shows his face to the teachers. always ushering you into the daycare building before leaving as fast as he came. The teachers think that he's your older goth brother who's being forced to take you to school by his parents. is it exhausting? yes, very much so. will he do it on repeat for the rest of his life if that means ensuring your happiness and safety? most certainly yes.

---

PART 2 IS HERE

that'll be all. I might do a part 2. tried something different with my writing this time and hope it's better than the rest of my works.

my stuff is right here: Bnha master list, rules for requesting, ask box

send me an ask, I fucking love hearing from you guys.

edit, 4 hours after posting: I'm very disappointed that I still have no new asks. very disappointed in you all.

[fablekitty]

I know Nexus said he didn't want anything to do with being a "Moon" anymore. Nor do I think he will actually look anything like this. BUT. What if he took "New Moon" literally. You can't see the moon when it's in its new moon phase as it is completely shadowed out. He's just a shadow Moon. (And a shadow of what who was trying to be, hurhur)

Did take a little inspiration from Keplitz on Twitter as well as the character 'Doc Oc' Also recalling how enthusiastic the VA was over a past Eclipse OC I had drawn a couple years ago that had tentacles sprouting from their back like some kinda eldritch beast. Just thought it would be a fun recall to that. <3

And the cherry on top, donned with the prized goggles of his dead best friend. <3

The fall of a beloved character should look cool while he's doing it.

[erwinsvow]

𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

summary: rafe's realizing how much better he is now, ever since he met you

word count: 1.6k

now spinning: love song by lana del rey

author's note: can't think about anything else but rafe being happy n content.... eeeee <3

part of this little universe

Rafe’s beginning to think you’re really good for him. 

It starts off pretty small—little things, here and there. The way he doesn’t go to bed completely angry and pent up anymore—that’s because you text him good night, every night, without fail. Even when he doesn’t say it first, even when he’s not on his phone and told you he’d be busy taking care of stuff with his dad all day.

After your first date, when you were sitting in the passenger seat of his truck—licking on an ice cream cone he’d bought you after dinner because the two of you were have a difficult time trying to find a reason to end the night—he opens up his phone to add your number to his contacts, and you hover over his shoulder, choosing little emojis to have next to your name and being very picky about it. 

When you finally decide on the perfect combination, he turns to look at your face, which is way too close to his. He decides then and there that you wanted to be kissed, because you’d never get so close if you didn’t. The truth was that you just couldn’t tear your eyes away from how the little blue heart and butterfly and flowers looked next to your name in his phone, but he doesn’t need to know that, not if he’s going to kiss you like that every time. 

And now whenever he picks up his phone and sees those little blue shapes, he feels better, instantaneously. 

So much so that he doesn’t yell at Wheezie and Sarah so much anymore. That’s another small thing— Rafe can’t even recall what he used to get so annoyed about, so angry that he’d pick fights over it. Sarah’s never home anyways, but when she is, you’re making conversation with her, smiling up at Rafe trying to involve him in the discussion about whatever the hell you guys talk about. 

Wheezie’s always home, and he actually realizes how funny she is, especially with you. He sits on the couch with his laptop, looking at things that you don’t understand and don’t really care about, while Sleepless in Seattle plays on the television.

You and Wheezie sit next to each other, half-eaten popcorn and candy scattered between you two, a box of tissues within reach because you told her they were absolutely necessary, even though she didn’t believe you.

Rafe only looks up when hears the unmistakable sound of you sniffling and crying—panicking briefly, trying to make sure he handles this correctly, properly, so he doesn’t scare you away—when he realizes it’s just the movie. 

He lets out a sigh of relief, of which you take note. You turn to hand Wheezie a tissue and then look back at Rafe, worried he’s going to be annoyed that you’re crying over this movie.

It’s silly, because he’s been nothing but nice to you, sweet as sugar all the time, but you remember what your friends used to tell you, the back-and-forth with Sarah, Wheezie’s comments about how much nicer Rafe’s been recently. How he’s been nicer since he met you. You look at him for a little, seconds passing by as your heart thuds in your chest. 

“I can’t believe this-” you hear Wheezie sob in the background, reaching for another handful of popcorn. “They just left!”

You almost turn away from Rafe just then, not wanting to see his reaction, when he closes his laptop and slides his body over to sit closer to you, one hand around your shoulder pulling you close and the other reaching to grab a clean tissue, holding it in his hand for you, for when you need it. You smile against his chest, clasping your hand around his. 

“You really cry over this crap, kid?” You whine, a muffled noise of protest spoken against his shirt, half-hearted. “We all knew they were gonna end up together.”

“Yeah, I guess we did,” you murmur, not paying attention to the movie anymore, eyes hyper-focused on the shiny metal of Rafe’s ring on his fingers. 

“Shut up, Rafe, I’m watching this-”

“You shut up, Wheeze, and pass the chocolate.”

It’s become a regular occurrence, actually, having you around at Tannyhill. You go through plenty of movies with Wheezie, occupying her time while getting to be with Rafe. You join them for their periodic family dinners, dolled up in your nicest clothes even though Rafe tells you it doesn’t matter. He wants you down there in his hoodie, but you refuse.

You want to make a good impression on Ward, you tell him, that it’s important to you if his dad likes you, if he approves of you, if he likes having you around. Rafe doesn’t get why you care—you’ll still be in his life whether Ward approves or not—but he plays along with it.

You wear pretty blue dresses and bring chapter books from the library for Wheezie and some history novels for his dad. You’re all smiles and conversation at their normally silent table, which he thinks is nice. Rafe still believes it would be nicer if it was just the two of you, but he doesn’t say anything. 

A picture constructs itself in his head—you and him at the dinner table of your house, the house you two will have together. You’d decorate everything all cute—he can picture it now—but he’s really focusing on when you and he can have these family dinners together, a couple of high chairs and pureed food and screaming toddlers running around. He doesn’t know where the image came from, probably from the sweet way you are with his family, but now it’s rooted itself like an infection that’s impossible to get rid of. He thinks of it, and feels better, and it must be obvious to everyone around him, but you never say anything.

It’s gotten to the point where even Ward notices it, though he refrained from commenting for as long as he could. Besides for dinner and the occasional Good morning sweetheart when you’re passing through the kitchen with Rafe, he doesn’t bother you two much. 

That’s why it really surprises Rafe when he brings you up one day.

“You seem… better, son,” his father says, and he wants to summon up some kind of retort to fire back, but nothing comes to mind. Maybe the impact you have on him is bigger than he thought. “It’s good. She’s good for you. Make sure you take care of her.”

He thinks for a second. There was a time where the first thing out of his mouth would be Don’t tell me how to treat my girl. 

“Yeah, I will. Thanks, dad.”

And then, suddenly, you’re everywhere, a part of everything. He can’t even sit in his truck without thinking of how you should be in the passenger seat. His house feels empty when you’re not curled on the couch trying to decide on what movie to rewatch for the millionth time. He can’t even find any insults for your stupid Pogue friends, because of course they want to spend time with you, when you make everything brighter like this. 

Rafe used to think it’d be humiliating to feel like this, actually being dependent on someone for once, acting and doing better because of you and feeling better even when you’re not there. He doesn’t feel humiliated at all though, he feels surprisingly content, despite everything that’s going on. It’s all background noise now. He feels even better when his door opens, and you make your way into his bedroom.

“Hey,” you say, setting down your bag on his desk. It lands with a thud, probably filled with your current read and another couple of books for his sister. “They all went down to the Chateau to smoke, so I just came over, I hope that’s okay-” You stop talking when you turn and see how he’s looking at you, getting up from his bed to walk up to you. “Rafe? You okay?”

You look at him real sweet, like you’re wondering what could be wrong and how you can help fix it. It’s precious, but he already knew that. His father’s words run through his head again—he has to make sure to take good care of you. 

“Perfect. Even better ‘cause you’re here now.” You shove your hand against his chest, letting out a breath of relief.

“You scared me,” you say with a laugh. You go back to your bag, rustling through it to produce three books, just like he guessed. He starts smiling when you turn around to offer it to him.

“Got one for you this time.” You're beaming, eyes looking at him expectantly.

“Thanks, kid,” he says, and he can’t help the smile that’s growing. He brings you in for a hug the way he always does, arm around your shoulder and guiding you to his chest, and you lean against him like that, holding on tight, breathing steady in his grip. Whatever anger and frustration was bubbling inside melts away with every passing second of touching your soft skin and smelling the scent of your hair. 

It’s no surprise when you two end up a tangled mess in bed hours later, your head resting above his heart, wrapped in his grip, while you start reading the book you got for Rafe aloud.

“Y’know what we should do?” he starts, quietly, interrupting you while you’re flipping to the next page. 

“Hm?” you murmur back, feeling your eyes fluttering shut without the book open and ready to read to distract you into staying awake. Rafe’s skin is warm and his grip is tight. You could fall asleep in seconds right now.

“Get married.”

[loveandmurders]

love your writing! how do you think the menagerie of murderers would react if their current crush/victim/hostage refers to them exclusivelly as "Mister [lastname]" even after they know their first name? would some prefer it that way? get off to the power synamic implied? would some insist on being called by their first name? would they not gaf? asking for Tommy Vincent and Brahms specifically but if you can do more i'd love that~

Hello there! I don't take request anymore but my mind instantly knew how each character you mentionned would react, so here a quick answer for you! (I added Bo and Lester)

I hope you'll enjoy <3

Warning: absolutely no proof reading, mentions of murders and violence, mentions of sexual desire, nothing else I think

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy would be confused as hell at first. Why would you call him "Mister Hewitt"? The man has never been called that way in his entire existence.

Of course, he understands you're trying to be polite, and it's better than being insulted... But he has a secret little crush on you (he thinks it's a secret but the whole family can tell) so it hurts him quite a lot that you are not calling him by his name. For him, it is as if you were putting barriers between the two of you. He wants you to be more intimate with him. He needs it actually or he is going to lose his mind.

He definitively asks his Mama (he is too shy to ask you directly) to tell you to stop calling him that, and to start calling him "Thomas" (which makes him feel so hot when you do) or "Tommy" (which makes him melt with pure love for you).

Bo Sinclair

Bo has tied you up on his chair and he is ready to toy with you in the nastiest way possible.

But he stops dead in his track when he hears you call him "Mister Sinclair" as you plead with him to not hurt you. He can't recall the last time he has been called that way and for an instant he doesn't know what to think about it. He asks you to repeat your words, which you instantly do, hopeful you might have found a cheatcode.

As he repeats the words inside his head over and over again, he moves his tongue over his dry lips and starts to understand he actually likes it a lot. It sounds even hotter coming out from your pretty mouth. Ok, you win, he won't hurt you as long as you keep calling him that way. God forbid he is getting hard from such a simple way. Also, he is losing it if you start calling him "Sir" as well.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent instantly liked you among your little tourist group and this is why you're still alive, currently wandering around in the house. In your point of view, you're some sort of hostage, without really knowing what the brothers want from you.

But Vinny doesn't see it that way. You're his muse.

At first you don't know you are alive thanks to him; you even feel like he seems to avoid you as much as possible. Actually he is just watching you from far away. When he finally gathers the courage to be around you, he is so surprised to hear you call him "Mister Sinclair". He definitively enjoys the politeness of it. It also reminds him that he isn't his "mama's boy" anymore. He is a man. It makes him want to take care of you like a "man" would take care of you. But after a little while, he really needs you to call him by his name or even better by a nickname to show him you like him (even just a little).

Lester Sinclair

Lester is very happy you aren't calling him a "freak" or insulting him, despite the current situation (all your friends are dead and you're alive because Lester pleaded with his big brothers).

He is even astonished you are still so polite to him, like the first time you met on the dusty road of Louisiana. He isn't used of people being polite to him, and he is a little bit worried you are actually just scared of him. He really doesn't want that.

In addition, he HATES with burning passion you calling him "Mister Sinclair". Mister Sinclair was his father and fuck he hated that man and all the awful things he did to him and his brothers. So no, please, call him Lester, call him Les, call him anything you want, but not Mister. Even "Freak" would hurt less in fact. He doesn't really like "Sir" either because he doesn't feel like that. He is just "Lester".

Brahms Heelshire

For Brahms, it is normal and even expected that you call him "Mister" and that you are all polite and nice around him.

Your are his new nanny, you are stuck with him now and you better respect the rules and respect him.

But he can't deny that the way you pronounce those words instantly does things to him. If you are gently greeting him in the morning, he is promising himself he's going to be a good boy to you today. If you are scolding him because there is mud eveywhere in the living room, he gets sad and helps you clean up instantly. If you say this in between kisses, he is absolutely going feral for you.

"Mister Heelshire" used to be a way to show him some respect, now it is some sort of spell that wraps him up all around your little finger.

[mypoisonedvine]

Part 2 to the Dads Best Friend! Cillian 🥺🥺

anon is referencing this fic but this can be read without reading that first!!

warnings: semi-public/car sex, secret relationship, fluffy smut, l-bombs, age gap, dad's best friend trope

(gif credit @nofckingfighting)

"God, I hate this," he laughed thinly, and you raised an eyebrow as you stopped moving.

"Er, jeez, not exactly what a girl wants to hear when she's riding her boyfriend," you mumbled, and he pulled you a little closer before sweetly holding your face.

"You know I don't mean that," he sighed, "I mean this-- fucking in my car."

"Really?" you smirked. "I think it's kinda hot."

"It's literally hot," he laughed, "see how you're fogging up the windows?"

"Oh, so it's my fault, then!" you noticed with a grin, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Only 'cause you're making me do all the work," you accused.

"Making? No, no," he shook his head, "as I recall, you were the one who said you couldn't wait anymore, and told me to pull over somewhere so you could ride me."

"Oh, did I say that?" you feigned innocence as you flushed a bit from the memory.

"You said exactly that," he purred as he moved in to kiss your neck, "don't think I'll ever forget it." His hands found your hips and guided you to start moving again, whispering encouraging little praises into the crook of your neck: that's it, good girl, there you go...

You gasped as you picked up the pace slightly, a chill running up your back even with the aforementioned heat. "What's it you hate so much about fucking in the car, then, afraid to get caught?"

He smiled against your skin, holding you tighter. "No, fuck, that turns me on," he admitted, "I just hate it 'cause you deserve so much more, darling..."

You whimpered and held him tighter, rocking your hips faster. "Fuck," you whispered.

"You deserve a big, soft bed," he continued, "no cars or motels--"

"Or my parents' wine cellar," you reminded him.

"That was a terrible idea," he laughed softly, but it turned to a groan as he held you tighter and your walls clenched on him. "But fuck, darling, you deserve everything... no secrets, no hiding..."

You whined and arched your back. "Cill, c'mon, we can't..."

"I know," he sighed, "I know, but fuck, it's what I want. I want everyone to know. I want you in my bed every night. I want a ring on your finger--"

"Fuck!" you yelped, pushing yourself up against his shoulders. "You can't... you can't just say things like that..."

"I'm not just saying it," he insisted, grabbing your arms to keep you from moving too far away. "I told you from the beginning: if we do this, it's not just fun. You're mine."

Your face tried to muster some resistance to that, but the way you fluttered inside was obvious. He grinned and pulled you into him, hugging you tight and bucking his hips up into you until you moaned loudly.

"Fuck, I want you," he panted, "all of you. I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks-- I need you."

"Cill," you whimpered as you hid your face in his shoulder.

"I love you," he continued, and you looked at him again, staring right into his eyes to try to find any proof he was lying. "I love you," he said again, softer, and you bit your lip. How were you supposed to think while he was fucking you like this?!

"I love you too," you blurted out, and you realized that was the idea: he didn't want you to think so you'd have to be honest.

He kissed you, hungry yet sweet, and you whimpered as you realized how close you were.

"Gonna come," you warned with a gasp, "fuck-- Cill, god, I--"

"Say it again," he pleaded, barely breaking away from the kiss but still opening his eyes to look at you this close.

"I love you," you moaned out again, "fuck, I love you-- yes!"

You started to shake all over, and he held you close as he fucked you through it. "So beautiful," he praised as he watched you fall apart, desperate moans getting louder than ever as your head tilted back limply.

He pulled you closer and dropped his forehead onto your chest, groaning as he came with you-- even through the tingly numbness inside you, you could feel his cock pulsing against your walls.

You both took a long time to catch your breath, maybe both realizing the conversation that was waiting for you once you returned to reality.

"Did you really mean--?" you started to ask, but he pulled you into another kiss-- less energetic than the last, you were both drained and sweaty and glowing.

When he pulled back and held your face, you didn't need to ask the question again: he meant it, you knew he did. But that just opened up a new issue.

"What are we gonna tell my parents?" you laughed breathlessly, and he smiled back at you.

"I don't know," he admitted as he kissed your cheek, "but we'll figure it out. I just can't hide you anymore."

[2amriize]

⟡˖ RIIZE drunk confessions

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist genre crack, fluff pairing riize x reader

ᯓ★ SHOTARO

Shotaro didn't usually get drunk, but when he did, it was hardly noticeable, as his personality remained as happy and energetic as ever. Still, he had confessed to you that most of the time, he tended to forget what had happened while he was drunk, which is why he didn't like getting too drunk. He preferred to enjoy a party while completely sober.

That night, you and Shotaro had made dinner plans for your birthday, as he knew you had wanted to try a sushi restaurant for a long time, and he had decided to invite you as part of your birthday gift. When you ordered drinks, Shotaro decided to try a mango drink with a funny name, not realizing it contained alcohol. It wasn’t until you had finished the first round of sushi that Shotaro began to realize the drink wasn't just mango, which made you laugh quite a bit. You spent some time laughing at the way Shotaro was complaining about the drink, saying that it didn't mention anywhere that it had alcohol and that he felt deceived.

"Don't worry, Shotaro, you usually don't get dizzy anyway."

"But I want to remember tonight..." he murmured as the waiter placed another tray of sushi on the table.

You continued chatting while eating, sharing funny anecdotes and reminiscing about old times you'd spent together. At some point, the conversation shifted to the crushes you both had back in high school, recalling how Shotaro had liked a girl for quite some time.

"Aren't you curious about how she's doing now? Maybe you two might like each other."

"Not really, I'm not interested in her anymore. There's someone else on my mind."

"What? And you haven't told me?" you said, crossing your arms as you looked at him.

"No, it's just that..." Shotaro looked at you before letting out a small sigh, placing one of his hands on his head. "It's someone you know."

"Huh?" You paused for a few seconds, but since all the friends you shared were already in relationships, you looked at him, confused. "I can't think of anyone..."

"I don't want to say it out loud because I know I won't remember it tomorrow, but..." Shotaro looked back at you with a small smile. You exchanged glances for a few seconds, realizing that the person he was referring to was you. You couldn't help but blush and look away after a few seconds, nervously trying to change the subject.

ᯓ★ EUNSEOK

Seeing Eunseok drunk at your door was the last thing you expected that night. You had talked to him a few hours earlier, and he had told you he was going out to dinner with some friends, so you never expected to receive a message saying he was at your door at 1 AM, just when you were about to go to sleep. You opened the door in your pajamas and found Eunseok, who was a bit dressed up. You noticed his eyes looked a bit more tired than usual, and his cheeks were pink. It was when he walked past you that you realized he smelled like alcohol.

"Are you drunk, Eunseok?" you asked while closing the door, watching him as he sat down on your couch.

"Maybe. A little... quite a bit," he said, running his hand through his hair, messing it up as he laughed.

"What are you doing here at this hour? You should go home, you look tired."

You murmured as you returned from the kitchen with a glass of water for Eunseok. You sat beside him on the couch, shaking your head as you sighed.

"I know... but I started walking, and I ended up at your door. Don’t you think it’s fate?"

"What fate, Eunseok...? How much have you had to drink?"

"Not much..." he whispered, taking a sip of water before getting more comfortable on the couch and looking at you. "Y/n, actually..."

"Yes?"

"No, nevermind."

"Eunseok, you can't start a sentence and not finish it. You know how much I hate that..."

"Actually... I came here because I missed you, I really wanted to see you, y/n," he murmured, looking directly into your eyes. "Lately, you’re the only person I think about, I can’t get you out of my head..."

ᯓ★ SUNGCHAN

Sungchan loved going to parties. You weren't really a fan of them, as you got tired quickly and felt stressed when there were too many people, but sometimes you agreed to go to parties with Sungchan because you always had a great time, even if only for a while. That night, your group of friends had plans to go out partying, so Sungchan picked you up from your house to go to the club. As soon as you arrived, he immediately went to get drinks for you and himself. You spent about an hour dancing with everyone, laughing, and being silly. You weren't sure how he did it, but Sungchan got drunk way too fast. Even so, he was always looking out for you, keeping an eye on you in case you needed anything. Sungchan was the kind of person who became a bit sillier when he got drunk. He said nonsensical things, couldn't stop laughing, and made everyone around him laugh too. He just wanted everyone to be having a good time all the time.

After a few hours in the club, you started feeling like your social battery was running out. At first, you tried to hide it and hang on for a bit longer, knowing that if you said you wanted to leave, it would ruin everyone’s mood. Even so, Sungchan noticed that your mood had dropped a bit, so he leaned in close to your ear and said, “Do you want me to walk you home?” You felt a little guilty about making him leave, but Sungchan kept insisting, so the two of you finally left the club.

On the way home, you talked about silly things, anything that came to mind, goofing around as you walked through the streets. You couldn’t help but laugh whenever you were with Sungchan. At one point, when you were close to your house, you started playing “marry, kill, kiss.” At first, you picked people you didn’t like or those you really liked. In one of the rounds, you decided to include yourself and two girls you knew Sungchan had liked at some point.

“I’d kill both of them and marry you, obviously,” Sungchan answered with surprising speed.

“That’s not how the game works, Sungchan, you can’t kill both of them…”

“But I don’t want to kiss either of them. I’d kiss you too.”

You kept walking beside him, looking at him, confused by how casually he responded. You had gotten nervous at his answer, but he seemed completely calm.

“Sungchan, you’re way too drunk.”

“Maybe,” he said, laughing and scratching his head a little. “But I don’t lie when I’m drunk, y/n. I could kiss you right now, but I’d rather be sober for our first kiss.”

ᯓ★ WONBIN

"I think I'm a little dizzy..." Wonbin said, looking at you. His big eyes were gazing into yours, and his cheeks were starting to turn red. You couldn't help but smile and touch his cheeks, noticing how they were gradually warming up.

"That's because you drank half a bottle in less than five minutes, Wonbin," you said with a small laugh, pouring yourself a bit into a small glass.

Both you and Wonbin preferred staying in rather than going out, which is why whenever you felt like hanging out with someone but didn’t want to go out, you would always text each other. That night, you decided to meet up, drink some alcohol, and chat since it had been a while, and it was one of your favorite plans together. Usually, you'd both drink slowly and never get too drunk, but that night Wonbin seemed intent on getting drunk, which surprised you since you'd never seen him like that before.

"Your hands are really cold..." Wonbin mumbled after you removed your hands from his cheeks, placing his own hands on them instead.

"They're always cold," you laughed, watching how he was acting while taking a sip from your glass.

You both talked about your usual topics, sharing the latest gossip you'd heard about people you knew. After an hour of drinking, you could definitely tell that Wonbin was getting a little drunk. You loved teasing him normally, but it was even more fun when he was drunk because he looked so cute when he complained. At one point, both of you fell into a few moments of silence, and you noticed Wonbin’s gaze on you. You looked back at him, locking eyes for a few seconds, but when you saw the way he was looking at you, you looked away, feeling a bit nervous.

"Why are you looking at me like that? You're making me nervous..."

"It's just... you look really pretty," he murmured while still gazing at you.

"Don’t say nonsense, Wonbin, you’re too drunk."

"Maybe I am, but I’m not lying... I really like you, y/n."

ᯓ★ SEUNGHAN

You and Seunghan had gotten along well since the first day you met in class. I mean, everyone liked Seunghan because he was very kind to everyone. You couldn’t deny that you had developed a little crush on him, but you knew how popular he was and thought he probably only saw you as a friend, so you never said anything and had no intention of doing so. Your class group had organized an end-of-year dinner after the exams, so you had all met at a restaurant. As always, Seunghan sat next to you since he was the person you were most comfortable with in your class. At the beginning of the dinner, everyone talked about the teachers and different subjects, but as the night went on, the conversation shifted to gossip and confessions. On top of that, many of your classmates started drinking and getting drunk. You didn’t like drinking alcohol, so you were completely sober. What you didn’t expect was for Seunghan to get drunk, and what surprised you most was the way he acted. Unlike the others, who became much more active and loud, Seunghan seemed calmer. In fact, he was much more affectionate than usual, acting in a way you had never seen before. As the night went on, people gradually left. Eventually, only Seunghan, you, and a few others remained at the table, though Seunghan was already struggling to keep his eyes open. He had drunk too much and was starting to talk about random things, laughing at everything.

At one point, you felt his head rest on your shoulder, which surprised you and made you a little nervous.

“Seunghan… are you okay? Do you want me to call a taxi?” you whispered, glancing at him and grabbing his arm to keep him steady.

“Y/n... I have something to tell you…” he whispered in a low tone, gesturing for you to lean closer. You laughed and leaned in to listen. “I like you...” he whispered a little clumsily before pulling away and giving you a small laugh.

You froze, staring at him. Did you hear him right? Did Seunghan just tell you he liked you? After a few seconds of staring in silence, you shook your head, thinking he only said it because he was drunk.

“Guys... did you know I like y/n?” he said to the others left at the table, who laughed at how drunk he was.

Feeling embarrassed, you decided to call a taxi and grab Seunghan to leave. “I think it’s time to go home, Seunghan…” After dropping him off at his place, you couldn’t help but spend the whole night kicking your feet, thinking about the way he had just confessed to you.

ᯓ★ SOHEE

You loved seeing Sohee drunk. He was already funny normally, but when he got drunk, he became overly extroverted and energetic, which made you laugh a lot. There hadn’t been a party in months, so it had been a long time since you’d seen Sohee drunk. But that night, both of you had been invited to a friend’s house party. It had been weeks since you’d been able to hang out with Sohee due to your schedules, so besides being excited about finally going to a party, you were also excited to see Sohee after so long because you had missed him a lot. Not even an hour had passed before Sohee was dancing everywhere, jumping around, and joking with everyone. You loved seeing him so happy, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him. You had been together the whole time at the party, but when you returned after grabbing another drink, you found a girl had approached Sohee to talk to him. At first, you felt a little disheartened, but you thought maybe this was Sohee’s chance to meet someone, and who knows, maybe start dating. You couldn’t deny that sometimes you wondered if you liked Sohee, but you always ended up with the same conclusion: you didn’t know.

You decided to go out to the patio to drink, as you didn’t feel like being around the others at that moment. You needed a quiet moment after dancing for so long. After spending a few minutes alone with your thoughts, you noticed someone sit beside you. When you looked, you found Sohee, who sighed and then looked at you, laughing.

“Weren’t you with a girl, Sohee?” you asked, looking at him while sipping your drink.

“Yeah... she came up to talk to me.”

“She was pretty cute, wasn’t she?” you let out a small laugh, nudging Sohee, who seemed rather serious.

“Well, maybe.”

“Is something wrong, Sohee?” You looked at him, noticing his cheeks and ears were a little red. Although Sohee could be very energetic when drunk, there was also a moment when all that energy faded, but he still remained pretty drunk. Most of the time, when this happened, you would stay up late talking about anything together. “Didn’t you like the girl?”

“No... Actually, I’m only interested in one person,” he said, resting his head on his arms and staring at you intently.

You were surprised to hear this and stared back at him. The two of you locked eyes for several long seconds. You couldn’t quite explain it, but you felt like Sohee was speaking to you with his gaze. You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach from the way he was looking at you.

“Sohee... you know you won’t remember this tomorrow, right?”

“Then remind me, y/n, so I can tell you when I’m sober.”

ᯓ★ ANTON

You and Anton had never gotten drunk before, but when you were younger, you had both promised that the first time you did, you would be together. That’s why you were now in Anton’s living room. You had bought some pizzas and a few bottles of soju since it was the drink all your friends had recommended at some point. To be honest, both of you were excited, but deep down, you were a little nervous about how it would make you feel. To your surprise, after finishing an entire bottle of soju between the two of you, you only felt a little happier. Unlike you, Anton was acting quite differently. First of all, his ears and cheeks were completely red, which you found really cute. You also noticed that he was talking more, and his voice had changed. It was slightly deeper and a bit louder, which surprised you; though you could also tell he was struggling to say some things. After finishing the second bottle, you felt a bit more dizzy, but you decided not to open another one, seeing the state Anton was in. He couldn’t stop talking nonsense and was becoming very touchy with you. You thought that one of you had to stay a bit sensible in case anything happened.

You had already finished eating and were both sitting on the couch watching TV, with Anton’s head resting on your shoulder. At one point, you felt his gaze linger on you longer than usual, so you looked back at him, feeling a bit nervous about the way he was staring at you.

“Is something wrong, Anton...? Are you okay?”

“You have such beautiful hair, y/n…” he began to murmur, making you chuckle. “Your laugh is beautiful too, and your eyes, and your lips…” You both fell silent for a few seconds, looking at each other. “I think I like you, y/n.”

You couldn’t help but be surprised at hearing this, shaking your head several times as you felt your cheeks heat up. “Anton, you don’t know what you’re saying, you’re drunk…”

“I’m serious, y/n, I like you so much. I could kiss you right now…” he whispered, leaning closer to you, but you grabbed his shoulders.

“Anton… let’s talk about this when you’re sober…”

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor

[winteringdream]

cherry blossoms

The first days of spring had arrived, the sun is rising earlier and birds are singing again. The weather is slowly getting warmer, which meant only one thing: cherry blossom watching.

Every year you looked forward to the magical short period in which all the cherry blossom trees colored a beautiful pink color. The small petals falling everywhere on the ground, covering the road you walked on in that same beautiful color.

You shoot up at the sound of a knock on your bedroom door. It's a little after lunchtime, and you had just finished eating lunch.

"Who's there?" You exclaim, not looking up from your phone.

"It's Woonhak." You hear the voice reply from the other side of the door. What was he doing at your house? The door slowly creaks open, his brown hair followed by his face peaks into your room.

"Your mom let me in." He smiles his signature bright smile, "Guess why I'm here."

"You ran out of ice cream?"

"Pshh, I never run out of ice cream." He laughs, "I've decided that you need to get out and do something."

You stay silent, prompting him to continue speaking. He fiddles with his fingers a little awkwardly, standing next to your desk.

"Let's go see the cherry blossoms." He suddenly blurts out after a short silence. "I know you like them and right now it's the perfect time to see them."

His request takes you slightly aback. Did Kim Woonhak, your best friend, just surprise you with a date?

"So, you mean a date?" You joke, putting your phone away, a teasing smile on your face. You watch as he almost drops the pen he had picked up from your desk.

"A WHAT?" He exclaims loudly, "I just wanted to take you to do something nice." He mumbles, but he can't seem to hide the fact that the heat is rising to his face and ears. Woonhak quickly presses the back of his hand on his cheek, trying to cool his face down.

"I'm just kidding, Woonhak." You chuckle as you get up from your bed. "Let's go see the cherry blossoms, I'm excited to see where you'll take me."

As the two of you approach the cherry blossom area, Woonhak seems to grow more nervous. You don't notice it as you're too busy looking at the approaching cherry blossoms.

"You know, they say this is the place most couples go to during cherry blossom season." You tell him, recalling the last time you went to this place. At the time you didn't know it was such a popular space for couples to go to. Embarassed, you had looked around for a little bit before going to another spot.

That day, you had rambled on and on to Woonhak about how embarassed you were to see all those couples. You told him how no one was alone, which made you feel bad.

"I remember." He replies, "You wouldn't stop going on and on about how you thought that the couples were glaring at you because you were there all alone."

Woonhak chuckles and stops walking. He looks up, and you do the same. A fresh breeze cause the branches to sway a little, a few petals already falling. When you return your gaze back to Woonhak that's when you notice he isn't standing next to you anymore

You look around and see him standing near a branch that hangs lower than the rest. He's closely looking at the flowers, his hair hanging in front of his eyes. It's moments like this that make your heart skip a beat, moments where you look at him and realise you want to be more than best friends.

"What are you doing?" You shout out. He looks up and flashes a big smile.

"Just wait, don't come over." He replies. "I'm almost done."

You watch as he jogs over, holding something behind his back. His eyes twinkling, and his smile wider than ever.

"Here." He says, revealing what he is holding behind his back. It's a cherry blossom ring in a box. Woonhak takes a deep breath in before continuing.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" He asks, holding out the ring towards you. His heart is beating in his throat, yours feels like it's going to jump out of your chest.

"Yes you can." You answer, as you hold out your shaky hand. Woonhak laughs at the sight of it, and carefully puts the ring on your finger.

"Nervous?" He teases, as he takes your hand with the ring. Your fingers intertwine with his, and you shake your head.

"Not anymore, because I'm with my boyfriend at the famous couple cherry blossom spot." You laugh, "Now the couples can't glare at me anymore."

[sqtorux]

7 minutes, not in heaven just yet but still heavenly

“after death the human brain lives on for seven minutes to replay its best memories”. nanami can't help but think about what his last seven minutes would look like.

nanami had recalled you telling him about a silly trend going around about people making videos of what their presumed 7 minutes just before their complete death would be like.

as reluctant as nanami was to think of either of you dying, he finds himself pondering upon two questions: what would your and his last seven minutes look like?

one of the question was answered by you a few seconds later. “hm mine would probably be all with you, and some with my family… maybe our colleagues as well.”

at that time, it warmed his heart immensely even after knowing full well his best memories were with you too.

the other question however, wasn't answered. it was in the form of a revelation.

nanami was tired. his body and mind just barely holding onto the thin string of his duties he told himself to finish before succumbing into the lure of resting.

he was sure he was in an underground train station fighting and slashing disfigured humans with the little strength he has left but why did it also feel like dancing?

dancing? ah yes gliding through the air under the warm sunshine in … a beach? a beach in malaysia yes you had always wanted to go there with him.

the grainy sand beneath his feet and the cool air blowing through his clothes and into his skin made nanami feel like he was in paradise, just not yet though because you weren't here.

you weren't here.

suddenly he wasn't in a beach anymore. the grainy sand turned into hard concrete and the warm sunshine was replaced by luminescent artificial lights. he was no longer dancing but grasping into his cursed tool, the blood of hundreds dripping down from it.

and yet you were here. the distress and horrified expression on your face made his heart ache. nanami observed you panting in exhaustion, you must have ran.

and finally there were tears flowing from your eyes, all the way down your cheeks and onto the hard concrete floor. he wishes he could wipe them away and hold you tighter than he ever did before.

but he couldn't bring himself to move. a hand was on his shoulder, the hand of the cursed spirit who was responsible for the numerous disfigured humans he had forced himself to kill.

he called out to you meekly observing how your body forces itself to look into his eyes despite freezing in place.

“i’d always save the last dance for you.” he hears himself say. he wanted to make things right and apologize profusely for ever letting you cry so painfully like this, especially over him.

“i don't think i have 7 minutes.”

mahito’s idle transfiguration would've allowed some level of consciousness to the humans he disfigured but nanami wasn't just a human. he was a sorcerer and neither was he disfigured.

“... 7 seconds.” and then he was gone.

the world was never fair. it was always ruthless and ugly but amidst that, it was also kind. kind enough to let you meet nanami.

but in a moment like this it felt like the world was purposely allowing you to feel this way, just so it could chew you up and spit you out only to step on you and laugh at your misery.

nanami’s last 7 seconds were with you, his beloved. perhaps returning to the sandy beach with warm sunshine, playing blissfully in the sea water, its currents pushing you both a little more closer, falling in love a little more deeper.

wrote this in a haze i need u all to suffer with me. i miss kento sm i will curse gege to no end </3

[meowkunas]

it would be nice to sit somewhere quiet with you

pairing: wriothesley x reader

summary: wriothesley is getting used to having you in his life (fluff)

word count: 1.9k+

a/n: i just assumed he lives in the fortress of meropide + he has a voiceline about how his handcuffs are built differently and can't be unlocked by any old master key, which prompted this ! i love him sm and i want to treat him so kindly

"What's this?"

The question leaves your lips before Wriothesley has completely let go of the small, metallic item in his fist. It's rare for him to invite you out for lunch, especially when it's an offer to meet you in the heart of Fontaine's main city. His invitation arrived at your desk in the form of a handwritten note, stating the time and place.

It's where you find yourself sitting opposite him now -- in a small cafe within a hidden corner of the city. A mostly empty area, but serving a delicious choice of tea and sweets. His words, not yours.

A beat of silence passes between the two of you.

It's broken when you gasp in surprise, cupping the key with one of your hands and dropping it onto the other hand as though expecting it to disappear between your motions. "Oh, I didn't realise this was a special occasion."

"It's so you don't always have to ask when you come down to visit me." He explains plainly, as though his actions haven't caused a complete rewiring in your brain of what you can expect from Wriothesley. He brings out his own room key to compare with yours.

A look of delight crosses your face when you see that they look completely identical. Clearing his throat, he drops his key back into his pocket, leaning his chin onto the palm of his hand. If he lets down his guard anymore, he's certain he'll blush at the adorable way you're acting right now. An odd, panicked thud hits within his chest when he realises you're not even looking at him, too busy gazing down at the key he's given you fondly. His nervousness changes to a pleasant warmth when you look up at him with a smile on your face.

"Thank you."

Wriothesley shrugs, crossing his arms in what he hopes is a nonchalant motion. "If it's for you..." The words trail off quietly as a different train of thought crosses his mind. "I'm glad you liked it." He says instead.

In the fourth months since then, you've visited him exactly six times and stayed over once. Although he's starting to think that it doesn't count, considering you left before he'd woken up. Not that he can recall the note that you left behind for him clearly in his mind. Not that he's counting your visits or memorising your excuses for coming this far his way. And he's definitely not got an eye out for you, knowing when you step into the Fortress of Meropide and the times of your exits.

So, as he stands, eyeing the dark and empty room which should hold you in some corner but doesn't seem to, he gets a little panicky. He knows you entered the Fortress of Meropide a little over an hour ago, although he hasn't kept track of your whereabouts since then. It takes a second for the panicked flutter in his heart to register as worry. But it's rendered him slightly useless. All he's doing is staring at the mattress covered in the soft sheets you'd brought with you on one of your visits in a stupid way.

There's a click from the bathroom door and he just manages to get a glimpse of your silhouette before you've barrelled into his chest. Wriothesley lets out a sigh of relief, letting his hands tangle into your hair. The bathroom, of course.

He hadn't even thought to check whether there was a light peeking out from underneath the door of the bathroom.

"Hi." You mumble, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing lightly. Screw his dislike of surprises apparently. "Did I scare you?"

The subtle teasing tone in your voice has the corners of his lips twitching.

"Obviously." He replies. "Who doesn't turn on the light when they enter the room in complete darkness? Even if they're going to the bathroom to shower first." He interrupts you as he notices you open your mouth to retort back to his question. Without waiting another moment, his hand slides from your hair to your cheeks, using a thumb to stroke your skin gently. His other hand reaches to flick on the light switch, revealing your flushed cheeks from the warm shower.

"I missed you." You say quietly.

He returns your sappiness with a roll of his eyes and a grin. "Can't even go without me for a couple of days, huh?"

"Mhm." You twirl a piece of your hair around your finger in thought. His eyes catch the motion, deciding whether to intertwine his free hand with yours. "When did you get the body wash I liked?"

Without answering, he buries his head into the crook of your neck and breathes deeply. It's warm. You feel yourself squirm at the ticklish sensation, only relaxing once his hand comes up to the back of your neck and massages it. An image sprouts in your mind of a hand holding a kitten by the scruff of its neck and you laugh.

It's always been like this; feeling a little like a give-and-take, except he keeps giving and so do you. A mumbled 'what?' brushes over your shoulder. Something seems to bloom in his chest when he notices you've left things behind in his room again. You don't apologise for it anymore. He wonders exactly when that happened.

Maybe somewhere between the third and fourth time you came over just to sit on his bed with him.

"Nothing." You pull away from the hug to look him over. His hair is tousled a bit more than it usually is, as though he ran all the way here from one side of the fortress to the other. A smile threatens to spread over your face and you bite your lip to stop it from appearing.

Wriothesley raises an eyebrow. You look all warm and cozy after your shower, and he honestly just wants to bundle you up and fall asleep with you in his arms. As though you can see the thought crossing his mind, you untangle yourself from his arms immediately, flopping back onto the bed with your arms spread wide.

Your eyes are closed lazily and you let out a contented sigh. "Ahh, it's so nice that I can curl up in bed since I'm all showered and clean."

Wriothesley gives a throaty laugh at the sight of you. His hands rest on his hips now as he rakes his eyes over your form. "Fine, fine. Want to help?"

You shoot up in bed instantly, eyes wide. "Yes."

"C'mon! Let me see how many layers you're actually wearing."

"Don't dissect me like some kind of insect--"

Wriothesley isn't stopping any of your movements though. Maybe he had something a little more dirty in mind when he made the offer, but it seemed that all you wanted to do was undress him and curl back into bed. He can live with that.

The cape comes off his shoulders first, and surprisingly, it's heavy. A quiet settles over the both of you once you actually move to undress him, and you can feel his eyes scanning your every move. Every movement of your hands against his bare skin or every notice of your intense gaze at his layers of clothing sends a jolt of electricity through him.

It's difficult to tell what he's thinking when he gets like this. You fold his cape neatly in half and place it to the side. You'll start a pile, you decide. As you get to work on pulling off his tie, you realise too late that he'll probably want to hang it up.

Your eyes don't leave his exposed collarbones as you toss his tie over to the side. A guilty feeling weighs you down, and you look up at him, only to find him still watching you with a curious look on his face.

"What? You're pretty," You state, only slightly embarrassed that you've been caught. Before he can retort with anything, you give him a kiss just above his collarbone. Wriothesley takes in a visible sharp breath, and you feel like you've won something. The waistcoat slides off his arms with ease as he lets you nudge him wherever you want.

It's self-consciousness instead of guilt that creeps up onto your next as he still doesn't say a word, merely watching your movements with an intense gaze. You feel a heat burn across your cheeks. You don't even realise you're clenching your fists until one of his hands envelops yours and swipes a thumb over your knuckles.

"You wear so many layers." You're throwing the waistcoat to the side now, shaky hands unbuttoning his shirt.

"It's cold down here." He pauses, tilting his head to think. "And it looks professional."

You snort. "Mm, yes, your loose tie is very professional."

"It adds personality and it makes me look good."

"Not going to argue with that last part." You mumble as your fingers fiddle with his shirt buttons clumsily. Finally, you’re able to get everything off, leaving him shirtless. It’s easier to see his breathing this way. It’s mesmerising. You brush over the scars on his chest absentmindedly. The way his even breathing stutters as you do so brings you back to focus on what you're doing. “Ah, sorry.” 

Before you can move away, he grabs your wrist, holding your splayed, apologetic hand in place. “It’s okay.” His voice is softer when he says that, almost shy. When he’s sure you’re not going to stop touching him, he lets go of your wrist. There are scars accumulated over years of fights and whatever else he hasn’t told you yet. Using just one finger, you trace the outline of a few of them on his chest and his stomach. The whole time, he keeps his breathing even, watching the thoughtful look on your face. As you slowly drop your hand back to your side, he asks a lingering question in his mind. “Can I touch you?” 

“I just showered.” You pout, shoulders slumping slightly at his suggestion. 

“Nothing else, I promise.” 

Wriothesley takes his time. His hand nudges at the top of your loose, bedtime shirt until he can kiss you on your shoulder. Soft pecks trail up to your jawline and his hand tilts your head slightly so he can bite you gently. A tentative hand travels up to the bare skin under your shirt and squeezes the side of your waist. When you don’t object, he pulls the shirt off of you, returning to wrap his arms around you as soon as he does and pulling you close to him. Another kiss, on your cheek this time. Again, on the corner of your lips. And the last one, a yearning press of his lips against yours as his hand strokes your jaw. 

He leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. “Just one more minute like this, and then I will be getting into the shower.” 

It’s warm in bed next to you. He’s curled up behind you, still placing kisses against your neck and brushing your hair aside as you squirm in his hold. With his arm slung over your waist, there’s not very much you can do. Maybe he’s addicted to kissing your skin. 

“I think I want to follow you around tomorrow.” You suggest hesitantly. There’s a small moment where you think he might actually say no to you, but he just nods and goes back to kissing your neck, brushing his lips down to your shoulder. 

“It’s pretty boring though. All paperwork and other things that I probably should be doing but I’ll ignore for a bit. Until I can't."

You’ve known him a bit too long, you realise. There’s a distinct lilt to his voice that tells you he’s smiling as he’s saying it, even though he’s got you facing the other way so that you can’t see him. 

“Don’t care.” A sigh leaves your lips as he gives you one more long kiss against your shoulder before pulling away. “I want to hang out with you.” 

You thread your fingers with the hand wrapped around your midriff, fiddling with them as you drift off to sleep. Wriothesley watches the silhouette of you breathing before deciding to leave you be and pull you closer to him instead. 

I think I’m afraid of losing you, he thinks. But maybe it’s still a bit too early to tell you that. 

[patchworkcuddlebug]

What's Best

(Special thanks to @honouredsnakeprincess for the inspiration!)

The doll was escorted through the doors of a house owned by what it once considered its family. It remembers it being three stories, with all three bedrooms on the second floor. It was never allowed in the basement, where its father would work on his projects.

The mother stood behind it, hands resting firmly on its shoulders. "Do you still recognize your home, Benny?" Her voice could be best described as clinging to optimism, forcing an undertone of cheeriness that is often used with children.

"Yes." The doll nodded.

More words were said. Expressions of relief, appreciations of normalcy. The doll patiently waited for her to continue.

Soon enough, she was escorted up the stairs. Their child, once the doll's brother, remained locked in his room without giving response. Just as he always had. The mother quickly ushers along.

They arrived in a plain bedroom, kept plain from disinterest. It was messy from dispassion, just as it was left on that fateful day. A living space in the barest minimum of the term.

It wanted to clean it, oh so badly it did, but it was told it could do no such thing anymore.

"I can't imagine what you're going through." The mother lamented as she guided the doll to the bed. "A doll, of all things... I never imagined it could happen to my own son..." She leaned against the wall, mourning what stood in front of her. "You're so lucky we found you, I can't imagine what it was like to be put to work like some... thing."

The doll felt a familiar inclination. A good doll would take more care to make sure that it is understood, politely correcting the misunderstanding. But it knew much better than to try and resist her.

"You should rest for a while, you've been through so much." The mother commands, lingering in the doorway of the uninhabited bedroom. "I'll make you something to eat, okay?"

The doll stood next to the bed. "This one does not feel hunger."

The mother didn't flinch. "Well, it'll be there when you're ready."

The doll kept quiet. It wanted to be polite, to help her understand. But it knew better.

It took the moments alone to try and find stillness, to remember Miss. The witch that gladly accepted it, making it such a pretty doll and giving it such a fulfilling purpose. It feels guilt that it wasn't there to serve her now, but...

...stillness. This one needs rest.

. . . . .

Macaroni and cheese.

It felt no particular reaction to seeing the meal in front of it. A dutiful resignation, perhaps, knowing its orders were to eat. A good doll follows its orders.

Cognitively, it recalled all the nights upon nights that it enjoyed the meal. It clung to that memory like a life raft as the family stared it down.

It's food. That's all it was. The doll tried to reassure itself with this thought, using the mantra to struggle against the visceral feeling of wrongness. Its porcelain teeth gnashed together, impacting and scraping in its mouth and the food was slowly reduced to a paste fine enough to swallow. It sank into the doll's gut, an unwelcome intrusion that made its wrongness known with a bloating ache.

The first bite has been overcome.

The mother sighed in relief, preformative cooing to the father. "Oh, thank goodness he's eating again!" she said to nobody in particular, receiving no acknowledgement in turn.

The doll looked down at the monster on the plate in front of it. It wanted to be good, it really did, but it felt no satisfaction from this obedience. Miss was always so gentle, so caring, so encouraging. Everything she ever asked of the doll was so reasonable, to clean or to cook or to do little favours. It never had to hurt itself like this.

"This one is sorry, but it would like to be excused." The doll hung its head, apologetic and shameful.

An incredulous shock crossed the mother's face, before quickly turning into frustration. "Benedict McLain!" The mother burst upward as if loaded with a spring, desperate to tower over the others. "You have been missing for months, I will not allow you to deprive yourself of a home cooked meal!"

She stepped to her left, standing directly between the doll and the door.

The doll quickly relented. "Understood." It nodded, returning to its chair.

It knew better. Truly, it did.

"Thank you" said the mother, her indignation satisfied. "I know you've been... with that witch for a long time, now." The doll swallowed its resentment at Miss being referred to with such an exaggerated disdain. "But soon you'll learn what it means to be part of a family again, to be a person with feelings and desires and... a family."

The doll politely waited for her to finish. It knew better.

"We just want what's best for you, Benny." It could see now the falseness in her expression, after finally being shown true compassion by Miss. She was much too focused on forming her expression, on making it known how deeply she felt what she said she felt. She was an actor, a bad one, trying desperately to fill herself up with what she found appropriate. "Now please, it up. You don't want it to get cold."

The doll wanted to wish that maybe, someday, she would know emptiness. But it knew better.

. . . . .

The brother entered the house's landing. For once, he didn't let the home's door slam behind him. Rather, he gently allowed the edge to hover in the doorway without properly closing. The mother didn't comment on it, hoping the lack of scolding would speak for itself.

"Oh, and it looks like the hermit has decided to grace us this morning!" The mother smiled playfully at her own joke. As she did, the brother nonchalantly shuffled through the kitchen, leaning against the counter opposite to the door. The mother, of course, politely faced him, not wanting to look like a bad mother. He brought attention to all the new and interesting ideas that he had been learning from his friends online, a topic begetting the mother's full attention.

The doll acted. Last night it had shifted the carpet covering the stairs to the side. Not only would it muffle the impact of its feet, but the edges of stairs are never as worn as their middle, making them much less likely to creak.

Ever so slowly it opened the door. It spared just enough time to thank the brother, from the bottom of its core, for oiling the hinges. It would never forget such kindness, its only regret that it couldn't help him in turn.

It was slow, at first, careful to hush its steps on the dirt yard of the property. Its steps picked up as it passed the fence of the family's neglected apple orchard, and once it turned the corner and lost sight of the house behind it, it broke out into a sprint.

It ran, and ran, and ran, passed the train tracks and the farmland and the driveways dotted along the end of the highway. It ran for what felt like hours, thankful to Miss for freeing it from muscles that could ache. Freeing it from the maddening helplessness of compliance with the careless. Freeing it from the fear that it would be stuck as their son for the rest of its days.

The doll burst through the door of the manor, laying eyes on its witch as she was startled out of her melancholy. She stumbled from her place on the couch, casting her wine bottle aside to clamber to the doll. She lifted the doll, her doll, and danced with it.

"Oh, Magnolia!" the witch cried out in ecstasy. The doll smiled, overtaken by the joy of simply being able to smile, at hearing its real name again.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I couldn't find you sooner! I tried everything, and I was so scared I lost you for good..." she could only hug her doll tighter, burying her face in its shoulders. "I missed you so much, darling, I'm so, so happy you found your way back to me!"

The doll could only hug her back, excitedly switching between gratitude and reassurance. Everything, every feeling, babbled out thoughtlessly, the love and excitement too much to hold back. But there was one in particular, spoken through a tight embrace flooded with mutual tears, that the witch would remember for the rest of her days.

"This one will always find its way back to you, Miss."

[waynes-multiverse]

Lover – Part 1

Series Summary: Free from his past, Ben’s trying to move on and find a little drop of happiness in this new world. But when he finally holds everything he ever wanted in his hands, it threatens to slip through the cracks, and he has to fight one final time with everything he’s got to keep it.

🫡 Catch up here! Sequel to Rehab & Video Games.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ due to language & mature themes, established relationship, Soldier Boy x wife!reader, angst, discussions of divorce, Dad!Soldier Boy, human!Soldier Boy, SB trying to be an ally (trust me it's a warning lol), fluff, (the beginnings of) smut

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Sid and Nancy are back to finally get their happy end for Valentine's 💕 The road might be a little bumpy until then, but we'll get there 😉

Disclaimer: This is a sequel story. The reader and Soldier Boy met at a rehab facility in 2025 after both being cured of Compound V. Reader became a supe again at the end of the series and is still currently a supe with acidic powers. Seriously guys, catch up with the links above. I can't explain everything... 😝

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 1: Lovelorn

The crystalline water of the small lake is peaceful, a calm Ben appreciates as he sits on the dock, his bow legs hanging down and feet almost touching the perfectly still surface. But underneath the serenity roars a thundering storm, his mind reeling like the fishing pole in his grasp without an end in sight.

“Fuck that! Fuck all of that shit, Y/N! I fucking love you. I’m sick and tired of those games. How many fucking times do I have to tell you that I miss you, huh? I don’t wanna do this anymore. I don’t wanna call you and hope you have time to pick up. I don’t wanna text you and wait hours for a fucking answer. I don’t wanna fuck you through a dumbass screen. I miss you. I miss my wife. I miss actual goddamn sex, for fuck’s sake!”

“I know. I miss all of that, too. Maybe it’s time. Maybe we should finally talk about it.”

“Talk about what?”

“Divorce.”

Remembering the word brings forth another surge of paralyzing anger. His jaw clenches, the grip around the pole tightening. He’s sure even the fish can feel his fury since they refuse to bite this evening. A flicker of sunlight that reflects on the water’s surface then hits his green eyes, flashes of the haunting night flowing freely into his mind.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You wanna fucking divorce me?!”

“Ben, just listen–“

“No, you fucking listen! You’re my fucking wife, and you’re not fucking leaving me! You understand? Till death do us part, sweetheart, and I fucking mean it.”

Ben’s heart twinges at the memory. He recalls how she startled at his threat, not knowing he regretted those words as soon as he said them. He remembers how her breath halted, how her hands jittered, and how the tears brimmed in her eyes.

“Ben, I just want you to be happy. You’re supposed to have a family. Everything you ever wanted…”

“So were you. You’re supposed to be fucking here. With me. And the kid. We’re supposed to do this fucking thing together. Remember?”

“But I can’t!”

“Can’t or don’t fucking want to, huh?”

“Ben, I don’t wanna keep you trapped. This way, you can find someone new. Someone who can give you want you want.”

“You don’t fucking get it, do you? No one can give me want I fucking want but you. I wanna fucking be with you!”

“Ben…”

“No, you know what? You wanna fucking leave me like all the others, go fucking right ahead!”

“Ben–“

“You want me to fuck someone else so badly? Be fucking happy? Fucking fine! Consider your wish granted, wifey. Guess, I’m going out tonight and fuck some other slut. Who knows, maybe I’ll fucking knock her up, too! Get a real fucking kid…”

“Ben!”

“Fuck you, my love!”

Ben doesn’t even remember if he hung up before he flung the phone against wall. All he knows is that he had to get a new one the next morning.

And moreover, he did go out that very same night. He called the neighbor, Mrs. Brooks – a fine, older widow in her 70s – and asked her to keep an eye on the kid while he went to the local watering hole. She was the kid’s usual babysitter and very fond of both him and the little slugger. She was also constantly flirting with him. It was only too bad Ben couldn’t get her pregnant…

At the bar, he then met Cynthia – a petite redhead with a huge rack, a perfectly shaped ass, and ideal child-bearing hips in a tight, glittery, emerald dress. It shone like a neon sign.

He bought her three drinks, and she constantly touched his arm as he whispered dirty things into her ear. He could’ve easily persuaded her to come to the dingy pub’s bathroom with him, where he’d rail her from behind till she saw fucking stars and was dripping his cum. But the scrape of her nails against his skin caused him to shudder over and over again – not in the good way – and he cursed himself for fucking missing his wife. He also remembered how shitty he'd felt the last time he had executed similar revenge plans…

This wouldn’t do, so he ditched the floozy there on the spot and returned to an empty house, angrier and more frustrated than before.

Ben fucking hates everything and everyone.

“Dad, look! I got it on by myself,” his six-year-old announces and holds up both hook and worm with a proud and wide grin to show him.

Ben forces a smile to his lips. “Good job, buddy.”

He tries his best to hide his envenomed mood from his son. He recalls how he always hated it when his own father took his personal shit out on him. Ben vows to do better, although the focus should really be on the term trying.

He fails more often than not.

Another regret of that night trickles into his mind then, one that haunts and tortures him more than the other hateful things he’s spewed.

“Who knows, maybe I’ll fucking knock her up, too! Get a real fucking kid…”

Sure, in the beginning, Ben thought he’d never really view the kid as his own flesh and blood, but he would’ve gone along with it for her. Y/N once called them a family of misfits – forgotten and lost souls cast out by the rest of society. But they’d always have each other and that was what counted.

Where the fuck is she now, though?

When she didn’t come with them to start their new life, Ben pretty much wrote the whole ‘found family’ bullshit off as a lost cause. He’d never get along with the kid, he was constantly frustrated by the little rascal’s shenanigans and outbursts, all the while his long-distance wife urged him to be patient over a fucking phone.

Ben’s felt fucking alone most days.

However, with a firm hand, a level head, and some old-school discipline, Ben’s managed the impossible and set the kid on the right track. Now, little Ben’s staying out of playground trouble, being nice to his teachers, and getting straight-As.

Alright, fine…

Out of sheer boredom and not because he was desperate, Ben might have read those stupid parenting books Y/N got him for Christmas: The Gentle Parenting Book, Raising an Emotionally Intelligent Child, and Parenting from the Inside Out.

Bunch of sissy bullshit if you ask Ben. He wanted a fucking Rolex under the tree and not coded messages wrapped in nice paper. And moreover, he’ll never admit that hogwash has actually helped, even if the Russians take him and torture him for another forty years.

It’s been a fucking struggle, but the boy’s grown on him. And in all honesty, the kid probably resembles him more than the firstborn who shares his bloodline. Sometimes, Ben even (quietly) thinks it’s a fucking good thing the kid doesn’t have an ounce of his DNA.

So, now they go camping and fishing together. They go to the bowling alley, the arcade, and to local high school football games. Ben tries to teach the boy what he knows (to the best of his abilities). And a few weeks ago, the kid suddenly started to call him the D-word. Y/N, on the other hand, has received the M-word pretty instantly – and she’s a fucking great mother, even from afar.

And at first, Ben surely considered it fucking weird since the kid isn’t really his, but, well, the word’s grown on him as much as the boy himself.

Ben still feels fucking guilty for even merely suggesting he wasn’t his real son – because he is, and he hopes the kid never finds out he ever uttered those words in the first place.

The former supe sighs internally. What has she fucking done to him? He wouldn’t mind the change as much if he got to keep the reward…

His mind flickers with a glimmer of an idea when the fading sunlight hits the shimmering veil again. The solution to everything, one little blue vial, is hidden right underneath the wooden floorboards of his bedroom. He’s thought about it a lot.

He could be with her. She wouldn’t have to be scared to hurt him. He could be someone again. Nothing could break him anymore.

Sometimes, that shit was harder to quit than fucking drugs. No wonder they needed a whole-ass rehab for it.

Ben’s keeping it for emergencies, though. In case he needs to protect her – or his family, his kid. In case that Neuman cunt turns on her because he surely doesn’t trust that booger-brain bitch. He keeps it in case he feels weak.

He also keeps a vial of the cure in case she changes her mind and takes it after all. But sometimes he’s scared to ask or push too hard because it very likely would kill her, and he couldn’t fucking live with that.

Because of what? Because he’s being a whiny pussy who wants to risk his wife’s life over a fucking kiss? A fuck?

It sounds insane. He doesn’t want this.

She’s more than his wife, too. She’s his fucking best friend and the only one he’s ever had. Maybe that’s why it hurts so fucking much. How could she even think for a second he’d rather fucking leave and do this with some fucking stranger?

Doesn’t she believe he’s changed? Not even her? Who else is there, then?

“Dad?” His son blinks at him with that look he can’t say no to. Why the fuck are children always doing that? “Can we order pizza? I don’t think the fish are biting.”

“I think you’re right. And hey, I can always go for pizza. Great idea, buddy,” Ben says and can see the kid brighten up at his words. He’d always wanted his father to call him “buddy” or “slugger” – or something other than a fucking disappointment.

What about the kid? pops into his mind. If he takes Compound V again, what happens to his son? What if he becomes one of the monsters Ben’s trying to protect him from? He knows all too well how that shit fucked with his mind the first time around. It’s not as easy.

“Hey.”

Ben’s heart stills like the water in front of him as the soft melody of her voice reaches his ears. He presses his eyes shut as the kid ditches his fishing pole on the dock and dives straight into her waiting arms.

“Mommy!”

“Hey, buddy, I missed you.” She smiles and tousles his hair, but her eyes drift to the far end of the dock where her husband still sits and doesn’t bother to even face her. “I got a surprise for you inside in the kitchen, Benny. You wanna go run ahead and check it out? Your dad and I will join you soon.”

“Cool! Awesome! See ya!”

Their son bolts so fast toward the house, Y/N’s surprised he doesn’t stumble in the grass once. She then lets out a sigh when her attention turns back to her sulking husband.

“You’re gonna acknowledge me at all or just ignore me for the rest of your life?” she prompts, a bit of venom on her tongue.

Yes, she knows her words hurt him, even though they were said with the best intentions. She knows she’s failing as a wife and mother. She knows they both deserve better. She just wanted him to have the option.

However, she can’t say his words haven’t hurt her, too. And it hurt even more when he ignored her for two weeks straight, kept her from their son, and never returned any of her calls or messages.

She knows Ben’s a big man-child, though. Rehab didn’t entirely fix that.

“Not sure yet,” he finally answers but still doesn’t even gift her a glance over his broad and brooding shoulder.

“Oh, it speaks.” She can’t help the bits of sarcasm but is aware she has to tread carefully now. “You’ve been ignoring me for two weeks.”

“Don’t have much to fucking say to you…” Ben grabs a bottle of beer from the cooler next to him, twists it open, and occupies his mouth with a gulp before he says something else he regrets. “‘Sides, my phone broke. Got a new one.”

“Something you usually tell your wife,” she mutters bitterly under her breath.

“Yeah, but not you’re fucking ex-wife,” he retorts.

“We’re still married.”

“Does it fucking matter?” Ben counters and takes another sip.

“I hope it does,” she mumbles and sighs once more, pocketing her hands in her jacket. It’s gotten cold outside – much like their marriage. “Guess that means you haven’t seen my press conference this morning?”

“Nope. Don’t fucking care,” Ben scoffs. He sounds more than a little bitter before his raspy voice ramps up with pettiness. “Already got a new piece of ass. Better fuck than you ever were. Sorry, doll.”

Y/N purses her lips, her head bobbing when he throws the dagger that aims for her heart. He could’ve still been Soldier Boy, and she would’ve believed him. And somehow, she isn’t surprised by his reaction, which really is the sad part. Her heart floods with hurt; her mind berates him and calls him every goddamn name in the book she’s ever learned from him.

Broken promises – that is the theme of their marriage.

Instead of pouring oil into the fire, however, she decides to stay calm. They’ve been through so much together. She’s already forgiven him once, she can do it again.

No one’s perfect. Not her. Not him. Especially him.

“I resigned this morning.”

Yup. Ben feels immediate regret for the lie he’s told.

He’s so stumped by her words, his head finally twists over his shoulder with wide eyes and a raised brow. Their gazes meet for the first time, and Ben is reminded why he had avoided eye contact.

She is breathtakingly beautiful.

“Look, uhm… I know this is my fault,” she starts and swallows thickly. Her eyes are so focused on the tips of her boots, she doesn’t even notice he has gotten up from his spot and is strolling closer to her. “I shouldn’t have said it. Not over the phone, not like this. I don’t wanna divorce you, okay? I don’t wanna fucking leave you. I love you, even when you drive me nuts, which you do quite a lot… But the point is – I want this with you. I’ve always wanted this with you… I’ve been working really hard to control my powers and doing meditations, and Vicky even got me a trainer… I want this to work, ok–“

She’s cut off by his lips on hers. His massive hands cup her entire face and hold her so close to him, she’s not sure they’re not melting into one person altogether. He kisses her so deeply as if he hasn’t done it in ages, which he hasn’t.

And sure, surprising her is probably not the smartest idea, considering she could accidentally kill him. But he’s always lived for a good adrenaline rush.

“Ben!” she gasps, eyes wide. But she doesn’t pull away like she usually does. She even keeps her palms placed on his beating heart. She giggles a little at his eagerness and is positively baffled by his reaction. It patches the wounds on her heart a bit.

“I fucking lied, okay? It’s not true. I didn’t-… There’s no one else, alright?” he assures her quickly, thumb brushing her glowing cheeks. “You believe me?”

He’s almost nervous that she won’t. He can’t even blame her, considering his track record. But to his relief, her lips rise to a soft smile.

“I do,” she replies, causing his heart to downright soar. “Don’t ask me why, because I have no fucking idea, but I do.”

Ben smacks his lips. There’s more weighing on his crumpled, old, and heavy heart. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said that night too, alright? I would never hurt you, I swear.”

She nods in his hands. “I know. Don’t worry, okay? Sometimes we say things we don’t mean. Doesn’t make them true. You know I’m kinda the queen of that,” she says and offers him a wry smile.

Ben then pulls her to his lips and kisses her – feverishly and fervently. This time, he even dares to slip his tongue inside her mouth, his hands graciously exploring her curves that mold perfectly to his frame. When he generously palms and squeezes her buttcheeks, she breaks from the kiss with a laugh.

“Slow down, Casanova,” she says, giggling, her cheeks blushing and hurting furiously. “Take it easy on me, alright? Baby steps.”

“Not even a little sorry.” He chuckles quite cheekily and reluctantly lets her go but stays close. “So, you quit? What about the deal? What did the bitch say?”

“Well, good things happen when you’re nice to people and actually make friends,” she says with a mischievous smile that’s supposed to hide the lecture. But Ben knows there’s one somewhere in there. “Vicky just wants me to be happy, so she reluctantly let me go because I’m still an awesome Chief of Staff. And granted, she doesn’t necessarily understand why my happiness includes you, but she’s a great friend, so…”

Ben frowns slightly at her words but tries not to take too much offense. His wife is here, and that’s all that counts. But: Fuck that cock-juggling thunder cunt…

“You’re staying? For good now?” he checks, not trusting the peace entirely. When could he ever?

“I’m staying for good,” she confirms, smiling brightly. “Unless you don’t want me t–“

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” He kisses her faster than her mouth can move, hot and rough. As he slowly draws back, his nose brushes hers, and he looks deeply into her eyes. “I’m gonna show you how much I want you tonight.”

“Ben, I told you – baby steps,” she reminds him gently but still giggles when he continues to tease her, beard tickling the spot behind her ear.

“I promise I steer clear of the home runs, but I will make it to third base, my love,” he all but swears and places a wet kiss on her forehead. “Now, let’s get inside before the kid burns the house down…”

Y/N laughs as she takes his hand, sauntering back to their home together as the sun sets behind them.

“Mom, you wanna come to a football game with us tonight?” her son asks as he eagerly shuffles his breakfast into his mouth.

The boy hasn’t left her side since she’s come home last night, even sneaking into their bed to cuddle with her – a little to Ben’s chagrin. But after a few scolding looks from his wife, he relented to sharing the attention.

She swears she has two children sometimes…

“Yeah, I’d love to,” she agrees with a wide smile. Little things like that are all she’s ever wanted.

Ben can tell she’s moved because there are tears stinging her eyes again. He thinks they might be a permanent addition at this point, considering they haven’t disappeared since she came home.

“Just a heads up, though, the football coach is a twink,” Ben informs her and actually believes it’s helpful.

Y/N furrows her brow and tilts her head. “Ben, what–“

“Look, I don’t mean any offense by it. The guy’s… alright,” Ben says and clearly struggles to get the words out. “His plays are good. I even think he can get the team to state this year.”

“Wow, high praise,” she comments and hides an amused smile behind her coffee mug. It might not seem like much, but it’s the most acceptance he’s ever shown someone from the LGBTQ community.

“Oh, yeah, I’m a full ally now.” He grins broadly. “Even the lesbians said so.”

“What lesbians?”

“Alec’s parents,” he replies as if it’s obvious, referring to their son’s best friend in school.

“You never said they were lesbians,” she points out, the wrinkles on her brow deepening.

“Sure, I did.”

“No, you said Alec’s parents were a ‘hot blonde’ and some ‘burly dude.’”

“Yeah.” He shrugs simply. “And the burly dude turned out to be a woman. Took me a while to realize, though. Was hard to find boobs under that flannel…”

“Alright, and I think that is enough grown-up talk around the kid for now,” she says, shaking her head in amusement.

“I don’t mind,” Benny quips from his chair and grins slyly at his parents.

“Uh-huh, keep eating your breakfast,” she says and ruffles his hair as she gets up from her seat by the island next to him.

They spend the whole day together, taking Benny to the batting cage at the park and the food court at the mall before attending a high school football game. As they return home late that night, the kid is so exhausted he falls right into his bed and passes out, and Ben hopes to God he goddamn stays there for the rest of the night.

He has great plans for his wife tonight.

“Alone at last,” Y/N says as she slings her arms around his neck and kisses him deeply as she sways in his embrace in the living room, his large hands resting perfeclty on her hips.

“You can say that again,” Ben huffs, but there’s amusement in his voice.

“Still want ten kids?” she teases. His brow raises comically at her words, making her giggle.

“Maybe three are enough,” he admits. Before, he never thought kids could be that much work. He also thought he wouldn’t be as involved in… well, raising them. “Or two. Maybe just one more…”

She laughs, throwing her head back. “Yeah, two sounds nice.”

“Wanna get working on one right now?” Ben suggests with his best flirty smile and a wag of his brows but can quickly see her reluctance and cups her cheeks, lifting her gaze to him. “We’ll go as slow as you need to, alright? But I believe in you. I know you got this shit under control.”

For a heartbeat, she licks her lips in contemplation, and Ben already thinks it’s a lost cause, but then she actually nods.

“Okay,” she agrees and stretches on tiptoes to tentatively catch his upper lip between her soft, plush pillows. Her fingers crawl up his jaw, card through his beard. “But you’re gonna have to let me be in control if you don’t want me to kill you.”

Ben only entertains it with a cheeky smile. “Well, might be fun for a change,” he says and lifts her back to his lips with a finger under her chin.

He takes her hand and leads her to the bedroom. He only turns on the small lamp by his bedside before his ravening eyes turn their full attention back to her. He marvels at her beauty in the soft, warm glow for a moment before lifting the t-shirt over her head and tossing it aside.

He kisses down the column of her throat, teeth biting skin and soothing it with his tongue as he works his way inside her bra. A hunger is spreading inside of him at her taste, her smell, her noises. He tries to tame it as best as he can on her behalf, but it’s fucking hard. He’s fucking hard.

She hums, moans the further he travels, the rougher he gets as he devours every free inch of her body. He tests the waters, sees where he can bite. Her skin is more durable now. Ben still remembers the feeling – the numbness.

Her fingers jitter nervously as they fumble with his belt buckle and zipper. Ben thinks it’s cute. He’s never seen her like this before. He’s almost sad he doesn’t have super-hearing anymore to listen to the wild beats of her heart.

But he wouldn’t trade what he’s feeling right now for the world. He has almost forgotten what it all felt like before the blue poison made him so indifferent and callous. He never thought he’d wish her to be human. And not out of petty, jealousy, or selfishness – out of love.

Ben wants her to feel exactly what he feels and knows she fucking can’t right now.

The rest of their clothes land in a pile on the floor as they peel off each item, carefully working their way to bare skin. Ben’s fingers almost twitch from holding back – he’d love to tear and rip it all off. Baby steps.

When she’s left only in a pair of delicate lace panties, she gently pushes against his chest, forcing him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Ben can’t lie and say he isn’t a little nervous, too, rubbing his palms along his thick thighs in anticipation. She’s stronger than him now, which makes his heart flutter slightly. He feels a bit like he’s playing with matches, trying to set himself on fire.

Was this how his human lovers always felt when he was still Soldier Boy?

Little scary…

She straddles his thighs and takes a seat in his lap, teeth biting her bottom lip back and hiding half of the smile that graces her lips. Her hips rock against the achingly straining bulge in his boxers.

Ben’s been as hard as tungsten since she’s kissed him last night. Forty years imprisonment haven’t cost him this much restraint as one year without touching his wife, who was practically right underneath his nose the whole time. He figures it was the sheer temptation that constantly triggered his need for her. The Russians never were that fucking pretty.

She sucks the skin on his throat purple and blue and leaves bite marks behind. Ben knows she loves staking her claim on him, and he always enjoys inspecting her little art projects in the mornings. He’s gladly hers as much as she is his.

His massive hands wander her curves, squeeze taut flesh and perfectly frame her perky tits. Her skin feels smooth and soft and warm, hot even. Too hot…

“You’re hot,” he murmurs breathlessly against her lips.

She doesn’t understand what he means and smiles, although her brow furrows slightly as if she found the question at least a little odd. He was usually more direct, more racy. “Thank you. So are you?”

She tries to kiss him again, but he pulls back, his hands grabbing her upper arms and holding her at a distant as he inspects her closely. His brow knits deeper and deeper as he cups her scorching cheeks before his palm slides to her forehead.

“No…” He shakes his head, worry stirring his blood. His heartbeat accelerates, but not for the purpose he expected it to. “You’re burning up.”

As Ben looks closer at her face, he sees how pale she is, how hazy her eyes are. He worries more.

“I do feel a little warm, I guess,” she admits and then forces a weak smile. He could’ve almost mistaken it for lust. “But I’m fine, okay? Probably just nerves.”

Ben would love nothing more than to believe that, but he can’t. Something’s wrong. But it’s his job as her husband to not make her worry and take care of her.

“How about we postpone this to tomorrow, huh, my love?” Ben suggests and gently cards his hands through her hair.

“You sure?” She is surprised, considering how adamant and persistent he’s been to get her here. But she honestly feels too exhausted to argue for long.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he says and lovingly pecks her temple. “Just get some rest, okay? It’s been a lot for you those past two days.”

Ben helps her gently into bed, ensures the blanket covers her thoroughly, and places a goodnight kiss to her hairline. She’s fast asleep by the time he leaves the bedroom.

His smile fades, though, once he’s out of view. He knows better than anyone Y/N shouldn’t be feeling sick. She’s a supe, so he knows something is off – and it’s more than nerves and exhaustion.

And then, fear sets in.

Part 2: Lovesick

*coughs a little angst* We might have a teeny-tiny virus going around... 👀

What did you guys think of this part? Did you expect him to postpone sexy times? Someone finally give that man his fucking Rolex for those heroics 😂🫶

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