#be nice to drew who deserves so much more

[dried-mushroom]

Hi hello! I absolutely adore how you write! It’s so nice to read~

Ive Seen the dating profile thingy you’ve posted of Harlan, and the „cuddling“ really caught my eye :0

Idk if you take requests right now, but if you do, could you maybe write something about how Harlan or AM get some well deserved cuddles? 👉👈

Have a lovely day! :D

Aww thank you so much, (I might do this for AM as well hehe) I really hope you enjoy this :)

Take a break

Harlan Ellison x Fem! reader

(tbh this one is a little vague in Harlan's description so it can be read as younger or older Harlan. It's up to you Pookie)

Summary: Harlan is having a severe case of writer's block and needs to relax (aka a shit ton of affection).

You were splayed out on the couch, messy h/c hair creating a halo around your head. You lazily drew patterns on the arm of the sofa, whilst the distinctive sound of typing filled the air. You lolled your head to the side, as Harlan sloped over the typewriter opposite where you were lying with a severe case of writer's block, to see how tense he was.

Your eyes travelled over the countless books and trinkets around the room to the expanse of his back and shoulders. Your eyes widen as you hear him sharply inhale and rip the paper out of the typewriter, discarding it onto the floor. When your eyes drifted lower, you saw the number of balls of crinkled paper beside the wooden chair he sat in, and your gaze softened.

You were another speculative fiction writer, that was one of the reasons he absolutely adored you. You met him at a convention, where you asked him to sign your old copy of I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream and Spider Kiss, he had also heard of your works and didn't think you were too shabby at the genre.

When you walked up to the desk he sat at, and it just clicked between you both, a bit of a cliche but you didn't mind (plus he did have you ride him in the backseat of his car swiftly after the convention ended). You and Harlan had been together for a number of years and hadn't quarrelled once so you had come to learn his mannerisms and him, yours.

You rolled off the sofa, sauntering over to the man who ran his hands through his soft hair, clearly irritated. You stood beside him and with two fingers you tilted his chin towards you, he looked up at you with, in your opinion, the most adorable pout you've ever seen on a man (you would never dream of telling him this though), You knew he was frustrated about some aspect of the new story he was trying to write and he needed to relax before it consumed him. You'd know because it has happened to you in the past and writer's block is one of the most excruciating things to go through for an author, for you, it led you to question your own capabilities.

"Honey, What's going on in that amazingly talented brain of yours?'

He looked up at you with his ethereal blue eyes before nuzzling his head against your stomach and mumbling against you;

"It's just so frustrating. I've spent so long creating this world and ideas just for it to amount to nothing, absolutely nothing. I fear my talent may have waned over the years."

You cradle his head in your hands (think challengers), stroking his cheek lovingly.

"Harlan Ellison. You are the most talented writer I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and your talent has not waned ever since you started writing. God I practically fell in love with you the moment I read Spider Kiss when I was 15. Now come on baby, you need to take a break."

That was another thing Harlan loved you for, your endless compassion towards him. He knew he could be a massive pain in the ass sometimes but you still treated him no differently even before you started living together. He smiled up at you, as you moved your hands to grasp him, pulling him from his seat up the carpet-clad stairs to your shared bedroom, him following diligently behind you.

It was approaching dusk already, so you closed the curtains in the room and got changed into something more comfortable, you could feel Harlan's obvious gaze on your body and you rolled your eyes in jest. You returned the favour when he removed the tight black shirt he was wearing and got into bed, you following in pursuit. Once you both got settled, he did something unexpected he started nuzzling into your chest, and you felt his arms embracing you, pulling you so close the warmth from his chest radiated through the thin material of your singlet. You eagerly reciprocated, intertwining your legs with his and stroking his back softly. He murmured against your chest,

"Thank you, I mean it. I don't think I deserve you sometimes, "

That made you smile. You kissed his foreheard before slowly succumbing to sleep.That night, Harlan peacefully fell asleep listening to your heartbeat.

The end

I'm sorry it's short and if I'm not writing fast, I'm trying to write the handful of requests I got (keep em coming and thank you to those who did request.)

[fangswbenefits]

Obsession

Summary: Miguel tries to convince himself that his obsession with you was justified, but fails miserably as you spend the night over.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed and jealous Miguel. Inexperienced reader. Breeding kink. Sexual tension and frustration. Reader has nipple piercings.

Previous parts: 1 & 2 (you may enjoy this one separately, but might miss out on some context)

Miguel tried to convince himself that adding a mic to your digital suit was purely for safety purposes.

He really did try.

But he couldn’t keep from listening in when you first wore it on your way to the spider cafeteria.

He had just briefed a squad and was monitoring Nueva York through a multitude of hovering screens, as he stood on his platform.

Tapping quickly on the flickering surface, he was able to zoom in on you through the ceiling cameras.

You looked absolutely breathtaking.

The suit fit you like a glove and left little to the imagination. He was proud of his work. You deserved wearing something of his for everyone to see.

He saw you approaching a nearby table, taking a seat. In front of you were Jessica Drew and Peter B. Parker with Mayday who greeted you with warm smiles.

The sound of your voice echoed through the walls around him, as you extended your arms.

“Mayday! Baby! It’s so good to see you!”

The little girl broke into a giggle and began wriggling forward on Peter’s lap to reach you.

You promptly took her in your arms. “Did you miss me? Did you?” your voice was slight high-pitched and you wiggled your fingers, tickling her. “Oh, I have a present for her.”

“Really? That’s so nice of you,” Peter beamed.

“I don’t have it here, but I think she’ll love it,” you said, patting Mayday’s back lightly, earning a genuine hug from her.

Miguel felt his heart clench violently.

You were a natural with kids.

You were just too good to be true and he felt his hands clench tightly.

Would he ever be able to have you? To make you yearn for him? To breed you? To have children with you?

“Wait, is that a… digital suit?” Jessica’s voice cracked through the mic.

You had your back turned to him, so he couldn’t see your face, but he felt the warmth in your voice as you spoke, “It sure is!”

He groaned lowly.

There you were… his sweet girl.

“Who gave it to you?”

“Miguel,” you said with that tenderness he had grown to adore.

He could easily get addicted to you saying his name, and he could only hope that, one day, he might hear it a much more compelling setting.

“Miguel… O’Hara?”

You nodded.

From the screen he could see her exchanging looks with Peter.

“It looks really cool!” Peter smiled enthusiastically, inspecting your sleeves. “Wish he’d offer me one, too.”

Jessica chuckled. “Well, I’ve been here with him for months and he’s never given me one.”

Jessica…

It was to be expected. She was no fool. He had scouted her precisely because she was anything but that.

You had been recruited only three weeks ago, but the hold you had on him was tight. He had never felt this way before with someone else.

You straightened in your seat, as Mayday nibbled on your thumb. “Wait… do you think I should give it back?”

Miguel felt his heart jumpstart and panic build inside him.

“No — no! Jessica,” Perer shot her a glare who merely shrugged, before offering you a kind smile. “It looks great on you. Did you pick the colours?”

“Yes! I’m really happy with the final result,” you said, helping Mayday sit at the edge of the table, as you secured her with both hands. “It was his way of showing gratitute.”

Jessica snapped her fingers after taking a sip of her drink. “You’re helping him out with the portals, right?”

“We’re working on portal stabilisation and reduced motion sickness,” you said and he could almost taste the pride and passion in your voice. “We’re making some progress.”

Miguel had gotten used to the random erections you’d awake from him throughout the day. But this one felt particularly painful.

You were so smart and so devoted. He couldn’t even take credit for the progress, because it was mostly just you.

His sweet and clever girl.

He glanced down at the outline of his strained cock, clicking his tongue.

By the time his eyes settled on the monitor, Jessica had walked away momentarily and he saw Peter lean in.

“Hey… are you and Miguel… a thing?”

Miguel froze.

Mayday proceeded to wrap tiny fingers around some of his locks, tugging lightly.

He wish he could have seen your reaction.

“Oh! No! No… we’re just friends,” you quickly said, waving your hands rapidly. “He’s like a mentor to me, really.”

Anger flared inside him. A friend? A mentor? He knew deep down this made absolute sense, but it still made him seething with rage.

Peter didn’t seem all that convinced, but nodded. “Just wondering. He’s not usually this… kind?”

Miguel felt his fangs threaten to emerge as he gritted his teeth.

There had been nothing kind about him building you a suit. He hadn’t done it out of the goodness of his heart.

He wanted to claim you and this had been the easiest and safest way for now.

“Well, I know he’s a grumpy,” you chuckled with a shrug, as you patted Mayday on the back. “Maybe he’s changing?”

You wouldn’t want him to change. Not really. The level of devotion he had for you was unmatched and nothing you could ever have from someone else.

“Maybe you’re a good influence on him?” Peter concluded, tapping his chin. “As a friend, of course.”

“Peter….” he growled lowly.

“As a friend,” you nodded. “Besides, there’s…” but your voice trailed off.

His erection nearly immediately deflated as dread took over.

There’s what?

He turned up the mic’s volume, but winced instead, as you banged on the table.

You cleared your throat. “Well, gotta go! I have work to do.”

Peter took Mayday back into his lap and chuckled. “Don’t forget her present!”

“I won’t! Wish me luck, though,” you said, crossing your fingers as you started to walk away. “I really need these chips to stop blowing and melting on me!”

“Good luck! Say bye bye, Mayday,” Peter waved his hand, which the little girl promptly mimicked with a giggle.

“Bye, baby!” you beamed.

Miguel had had enough.

He switched off your mic with a tap on his watch.

He really had tried to convince himself that his obsession for you was justified. That is was rooted in more than lust and desire, but he wasn’t so sure anymore.

After you moved to Nueva York, he had you working closely to him on portal stabilisation.

But what had started out as something innocent, soon shifted into something else entirely.

Your company brought him peace and quiet, and ticket his brain just the right way to keep him motivated.

Until it didn’t.

Until you became his torment.

He had let you in his life in the hopes that you let him in yours.

The first time you gave him a boner was when he walked in on you in the lab, wearing nothing but a tank top and a pencil pressed firmly in between your lips, as you moved from screen to screen to check on the update progress.

The worst part? You didn’t even notice how utterly delicious you looked and how he could easily bend you over and take you right there.

No.

You just offered him a sweet smile.

One he hadn’t recovered from ever since.

“Miguel?”

He jolted as the voice snapped him from his torturous thoughts. “What?”

Lyla hovered nearby, eyeing him closely. “Fangs out,” she wiggled her index finger disapprovingly. “Pavitr and Hobie are waiting for you.”

His fangs retracted slowly as he tried to gain his composure back. “Why?”

“Mission?” she quirked an eyebrow.

Right.

“Now?”

“You’re already late.”

He growled, tapping on a few screens hurriedly.

“Oh, and Miguel?”

“What?”

The hologram popped near the screen to his left. “You might want to be more subtle when using her in-suit mic.”

He gave her narrow side-glace. “What do you mean?”

“Just saying,” she said, adjusting her heart-shapped glasses. “You’re not the only tech savvy spider here.”

The door to his apartment swung open at once, and he stepped inside ready to decompress from the tiresome mission.

He had made plans with some of your audio recordings and his hand, hoping that would be enough to easy the pent-up tension that had been looming over year throughout the way.

It was a less than ideal situation, but would have to do for now.

That was until he noticed his living room was lit.

Pacing rapidly he was met with you.

In the middle of a pile of papers and electronic components scattered around the floor, he saw you sitting cross-legged with a pencil danging from your lips, his digital suit clinging tightly to your body.

“What are you doing here?”

Your bead snapped in his direction and the pencil tumbled to the floor. “Miguel! Lyla let me in.”

He was rooted in place.

Had it been someone else, he would have flung them through the window with no warning.

But you weren’t just someone.

And Lyla wouldn’t have let someone else enter his apartment, either.

“It’s quite late,” he said, pacing carefully toward you as not to step on anything. “You could have called me.”

You waved a hand dismissively and held a circular metallic object in the other. “Catch!”

Before he could say anything back, you had tossed it in his direction, which he quickly grabbed in between his fingers.

“Found what was wrong with it,” you smiled proudly. “It was stupid of me, really. There wasn’t any thermal paste in it. That’s why it kept blowing up.”

Miguel stared at the chip in his hand and blinked a few times.

“I assumed you were using it from the start,” he said, inspecting the cross section.

You rose to your feet in an instant and joined his site, excitement spilling from you. “These ion batteries should not require thermal paste — not for this amount of energy, at least. But yeah… my bad,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck.

Miguel locked eyes with yours and felt a familiar tingle in his body.

Fuck.

You were just so ridiculously attractive, and he wish he could hear you ramble about tech and science for hours.

“This is really, really good news,” he said genuinely, handing the chip back to you.

He squeezed your arm lightly as encouragement, knowing fully well he should be rewarding you in other ways.

His sweet girl…

You darted back to the floor, gathering some papers. “Sorry for the mess. I just had to figure this out and couldn’t sleep.”

A scientist at heart, you were.

Blood began to rush to his groin in no time. It couldn’t be helped. His body had been so on edge to finally fuck you, that it was in this permanent state of arousal around you.

“It’s fine. I still have those moments,” he said softly, crouching to help you out. “Sometimes I can’t sleep, and I have to do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I either go to the lab, or…” I jerk off to the thought of being buried deep inside you, he wanted to say.

You eyed him expectantly, biting your lip lightly, further hardening his cock.

“Well, it’s a bit late,” Miguel eventually said, standing tall. “Maybe you should get back to your apartment?”

He hated himself for even suggesting such option, but he didn’t want to push his luck. You being here would be fuel enough for the rest of the night as he fucked his hand.

“Oh, you just got back from a mission,” you fought back a yawn, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “I’ll just leave.”

Miguel nodded, but was crumbling inside.

Your face lit up again. “But this was great, right?”

Please stay.

“You did great,” he said with a short smile. “Go get some rest.”

Please…

You made your way down the hall and waved at him. “See you in the morning, Miguel.”

He should have let you go.

But something took over him, before he could fight it back.

“Actually, you could stay. It’s nearly four in the morning,” he tried to sound as casual as possible, but the excitement was hard to contain. “And we have to head back to the lab early.”

You turned around and he stopped breathing.

Too much?

Then he the backpack slide down your arm, hittingbthe floor with a thud. “Oh, thank you! I really didn’t feel like swinging back to my apartment,” you voice held pure gratitude and he felt his ego soar. “Only… I don’t have any clothes.”

He shook his head as realisation hit him. “Right. Wait here.”

“Okay~”

Bolting into his room, he went through his closet, fetching a shirt and a robe.

But before heading out, he decided to change into some sweatpants and a shirt himself.

His erection welcomed the looser material, and he’d be able to better conceal it from you.

Taking a final look at his cock, Miguel decided to give it a few pumps as if trying to calm it down.

He couldn’t believe his luck.

He couldn’t believe his sweet girl would be so close to him in his clothes and apartment.

And bed.

As he exited the room and handed the clothes to you, he cleared his throat. “You can take my bed.”

You looked up at him. “Oh… no, Miguel. You just came back from a mission.”

“I’m not that tired. Just take it.”

Please.

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Anything that was his was yours. He would give it all to you.

“Be right back,” you said, before disappearing into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

He immediately sighed in relief, adjusting his cock, feeling the first beads of precum spill from the tip.

How was he to survive this?

Not long after, you emerged again.

He glanced over at the length of you, taking in the sight of his shirt and robe on you. Your legs were still covered with the digital suit, but you looked absolutely ready to be devoured.

But he couldn’t do it.

Not yet.

His cock twitched in his pants, yearning to be inside you.

Then something else caught his attention when his moved up your body.

It couldn’t be…

Two symmetrical protuberances poked through the fabric of your shirt — his shirt.

“Are those…” his voice faltered momentarily, not trusting his own eyes.

You followd his line of sight and giggled. “Oh! Yeah. Got them pierced way back. Wanted to defy my dad and got them out of spite,” you went on, adjusting the fabric of the shirt under the robe. “But eventually kept them. They look cute.”

Cute?

Miguel was at a loss for words.

Your voice mixed with your carefree posture sent jolts directly into his cock.

“I…” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I didn’t notice them before,” he said, feeling his mouth run dry.

“I was wearing a bra,” you replied with a shrug and a tender smile.

This was almost comically painful.

You were the closest thing he had ever known to innocence as of late. Yet here you stood, wearing just his shirt, no bra, and with your pierced nipples poking through his shirt.

But none of that seemed to matter to you.

You were completely oblivious of how painfully hard he was for you.

“Did it hurt?”

“Terribly,” you said, still glacing down at your breasts and hardened nipples. “But I think it’s worth it.”

The adorable way in which you said it was almost driving him insane.

Just how innocent could one person be…

Before he could even process his thoughts, he spoke, “Can I…”

Your eyes met his and Miguel feared he had now fucked it up for good.

Brilliant, Miguel…

“Oh, you mean… you want to see them?”

Should he back down and just deny his intentions?

“You’ve never seen nipple piercings before?”

He shook his head.

Just as he was about to tell you to forget it, you lifted his shirt, revealing your breasts to him.

He nearly exploded right there and then.

“Oh, please!” she giggled. “We’re people of science, and you haven’t seen this before. Science is all about curiosity and discovery.”

Miguel, however, wasn’t listening to any of that and felt as though he was hypnotised. He could tear his eyes away from your perky nipples and the metal rods that went through them, a tiny spider danging from each of them.

He wasn’t sure when or how he had got so close to you, but he lifted his hand to touch one.

His cock twitched violently and he felt his mind hazy with lust.

“They’re cool, right?” you beamed, allowing him to swipe the pad of his thumb across the tiny spider.

“Yeah.”

Really ‘cool’.

More precum dripped from his tip and had to fight back his fangs from slipping out.

He wanted to bend over and dart his tongue out to play with them. He wanted to tug on them and wanted you to arch your back with a soft moan.

You pulled down the shirt again and he flinched his hand back instantly, swallowing hard.

“So… if — when you have a baby and want to breastfeed… will there be an issue?”

Of course his need to breed you had to surface at the worst possible time.

But he had to know. He needed to know if that would be a nuisance. He couldn’t take any risks and he wanted you completely ready to carry his children.

You shrugged, adjusting the robe around you. “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead when I got them, but I suppose I just have to take them out.”

He nodded, taking a few steps back.

You stretched out with a yawn. “Mind if I go to sleep now?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

You were about to whirl on your feet, but decided against it. “How do you say ‘thank you’ in Spanish?”

That caught him off guard and his eyes widened. “Gracias.”

Then you gave him the sweetest smile. “Gracias, Miguel.

He could cum just from this alone.

How he would teach you the filthiest things in Spanish… how he would whisper them in your ear, knowing fully well you couldn’t understand a word…

You then slipped into his room and closed the door.

He ran both hands through his hair, wanting to let out a scream.

The things he wanted to do to you…

The things you deserved done to you…

He brought one hand down to tug at his waistband, revealing his soaked cock.

Then he bit the back of his other hand.

Hard.

He didn’t even care if he drew blood.

He couldn’t take this anymore.

Engulfed with overwhelming frustration, he pressed his forehead against the tall window that overlooked Nueva York.

He had to calm down, or else he’d have to synthesise a serum to lower his levels of testosterone…

He had to find a way to stop.

As minutes ticked by, he decided to check your bio readings on his watch. Your heart rate had lowered significantly, indicating him you were now asleep.

The predator in him took control again and he paced towards his bedroom, opening the door just enough to check on you.

Fast asleep.

He walked in with careful steps, finally taking in the sight of you on his bed.

The floor-to-ceiling windows allowed for the faintest moonlight to be cast on you.

He felt his heart was about to implode as he drew near, slowly sitting by the edge of the mattress.

You lay on your back, breathing evenly and covered up to your waist with a blanket.

Miguel took a deep and shaky breath.

You smelled of him and his bedsheets smelled of you.

Such a powerful and dangerous combination, that he almost considered gripping his cock.

Bur decided against it.

Instead, he say there, staring at you, absorbing every single detail of your body.

His hand twitched as an itch took over it.

An itch he had to scratch.

He reached out to graze the back of one finger along your forearm, feeling your warmth coating his skin.

His sweet girl…

His imagination ran wild and he had hoped he could have fucked you to sleep, not sliding out of you, making sure you’d take his seed.

Pain swallowed him whole as despair settled.

What if he never managed to make you his?

What if you decided you wanted nothing more than a friendship?

How could he cope?

Suddenly, you flinched and rolled to your side and heaved a deep sigh. “Oh, Tom…”

Miguel was left petrified and his blood ran cold.

Who the fuck was Tom?

Part 4

Masterlist

[leighsartworks216]

You Have A Type, Don't You?

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Based on this post

I wrote this instead of doing any of the work I need to do! I'm gonna go do that now lol

Warnings: innuendos, minor references to sex, the barest hints of jealousy

Word Count: 1,601

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Your pencil scratched across the paper, drawing Astarion over and over again on a single page. This wasn’t anything surprising; you drew all of your companions. Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Shadowheart, Lae’zel - they all had pages of their own, but it was usually only one drawing. Some had even posed for it. It was just a way to relax, and their faces always lit up when you showed them, even if they tried not to show it.

Everyone needed a break from fighting and exploring day in day out, so you decided one more day here wouldn’t hurt. As such, you’ve spent the better half of the day just drawing. At first it was little doodles of Scratch, but then you realized you hadn’t drawn the vampire spawn yet.

Most of the expressions you captured came from memory. You’d occasionally sneak a glance for quick reference, pretending to stretch or get distracted by some birds. But at some point, he’d disappeared from camp. You just assumed he’d gone off hunting.

That assumption was proved quite wrong when a voice tsked over your shoulder, almost directly in your ear.

Startling away from the sound, you whipped around to see Astarion crouched down. He wore a self-satisfied smirk and settled down into a full sit on the ground.

“It seems someone is infatuated,” he teased. “So who is it? Someone we saved from peril, perhaps?”

Oh. Right. It had completely slipped your mind.

You cleared your throat as your cheeks warmed and smiled. “Y-Yeah, something like that.”

He chuckled. “Come on, darling, there’s nothing to be shy about. Spare none of the juicy details. What’s he like?”

“He’s, well,” you stammer, “he’s interesting.”

He scoffed. “That’s hardly juicy or a detail. Or is he just another pretty face?” He leaned forward, trying to get a better look at your drawings. You wanted to pull them away and hide them, but why? All the others had drawings done of them, and you loved showing it off when they were done. Why was this any different?

“No, he’s a lot more than that,” you admit quietly. You weren’t good at lying - usually Astarion took the lead any time you had to - but maybe if you didn’t tell a complete lie… “He’s funny, charming. His laugh lights up my world. He’s had a rough go of it, but he doesn’t like it to show.”

“He must like you if you know,” he hummed. Your heart leapt into your throat as he pointed to the pin pricks drawn on the neck. “Is he a vampire, too?” He chuckled, but it sounded strained. “You have a type, don’t you?”

You scoffed even as warmth flooded to your cheeks. “No! I do not have a type.”

“No, of course not,” he played along. “Certainly not for creatures of the night who bite into that pretty little neck of yours.” Despite his smile, there was a tension in his eyes. “I don’t mind, dear. I’d be more than happy to scrounge around some nights so you may indulge your new lover.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to do that, Astarion,” you assured. “He’s not… We’re not together.”

“No?” You shook your head again. He opened his mouth to give you advice or console you, but you cut him off. It was better to end this fantasy now, before it began to hurt too much.

“It doesn’t matter. Besides, you shouldn’t be sneaking around so you can look over my shoulder. I could have been drawing something terrible.”

He laughed. “All the more reason to risk a peek. You’re so good, it would be nice to know you can be tempted.” Then he scowled. “Unless it’s something terribly dull. You deserve much more than missionary.”

If your cheeks weren’t already blazing hot…

“In any case, I was only wondering when you’d draw my portrait. You seemed more than happy to provide the others with a likeness. And…” He looked past you, seemingly far away. “I haven’t seen myself in two centuries. One gets curious, especially when you’re as vain as me.”

If he heard your heart start racing, he didn’t comment on it. Drawing him would make him realize it wasn’t some other vampire crush you were drawing. But, it had been a while since your adventure began, and you’d drawn everyone else. You swallowed down your anxiety. “Yeah! Of course! Did you wanna pose, or anything?”

He blinked and suddenly he was back in the present. A sly smirk covered up whatever emotions could be lingering on his face. “If your little vampire friend doesn’t get too jealous. I would actually like if you could draw me just,” he paused, “smiling. It would be nice to know what everyone else sees. Make sure I’m not off-putting, you know how it is.”

Once he was sitting comfortably, you turned to a fresh page and began drawing. The paper was hidden from his view, but he watched as your hand, wrist, and arm all moved in tandem like a clock’s gears to create an image. Your eyes moved between the sketch and him multiple times. Sometimes you’d glance up and draw for almost a minute. Then other times you kept going back and forth, constantly checking for reference.

Watching you work was fascinating. All your surroundings faded away. Karlach being her usual loud self, Wyll dancing, Gale cooking, Lae’zel sharpening weapons - nothing could turn your attention from him. He almost felt subconscious with the intensity of it. Your eyes studied him, taking in every single feature, and translated it to your journal. What did you see when you looked at him, he wondered. What did the world see? It had been so long, he couldn’t even remember his face. All he knew was he was attractive.

With a final few marks, brushed away to blend them into the rest, you looked down at your masterpiece. You were so caught up in the drawing you forgot why you were hesitant before, but now that Astarion stared at you from two different angles, your anxiety came back full force. There was no way out of this.

“All done, dear?”

You smiled shakily up at him and turned the journal around. His face scrunched up in confusion. When he met your eyes, he was decidedly unamused. “Darling, if you’re going to draw your fleeting fancy, don’t trick me first. I know it’s hard to see past the depraved bloodlust, but we don’t all look alike, you know.”

“No, Astarion, it’s not- I-”

While you fought to find words, Karlach picked up the slack. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted across the camp, “IT’S YOU, FANGS!”

Dread washed over you. You closed your eyes. If a merciful god was going to kill you and rid you of this embarrassment, now would be the time. A bolt of lightning, perhaps. You’d even welcome decapitation.

You risked a glance when you felt your book being tugged carefully from your hands. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly open as he tried to comprehend what the fuck had just happened. Gods, now he was going to leave camp. You buried your face in your hands. He was going to pack everything up and leave before the sun even touched the horizon. And you’d never see him again. Maybe you’d go find Cazador yourself, just to kill the bastard.

“All these drawings… are me? Darling?”

You inhaled deeply and lowered your hands, but you couldn’t bear looking at him. He could stab you with his dagger and you’d apologize to him for it all. Hell, you’d let him drink you dry if it meant leaving this all behind you. “You’re very pretty,” you admitted quietly. “I didn’t know how to ask, and just- You can rip the pages out, burn them, whatever makes you feel better. And if you leave, I won’t blame you or chase after you or-”

“I’m not upset.” Your head never shot up so fast. “Well, a little. You’re not subtle when you stare, you know. I thought you were just uncomfortable being around a vampire, but this…” He turned back to the portrait you’d just finished. “This is really what I look like?”

You swallowed away a small portion of the shame. At least he wasn’t running away. “As best as I can capture you, anyway. Y-You’ve got these sharp eyes, and your hair curls around your ears, and you get little wrinkles around your eyes and mouth when you laugh - and I just like drawing you.”

The page flipped over again. The page of expressions, capturing everything you described. When he smiled full and bright his fangs were on full display, accented by the laugh lines on either side of his mouth. And the puncture wounds on his neck…

“Ah, so when I said you had a type…” He chuckled, but it didn’t hold as much warmth as usual.

“Your laugh does light up my world,” you admit. His red eyes were on you in an instant, flickering over your whole face. “Just, for the record.”

He glanced at the drawings once more, contemplative. Then, he held the book back out to you. “I wouldn’t be… opposed to trying this. Whatever this is.”

You reached out to take it, but he pulled it away. “But, no more sneaking glances across camp when you want to draw me. I would be delighted to model for you again, in any pose your sweet heart can concoct.” He held the book out again. “Deal?”

You grabbed onto the book, finally relaxing as you smiled. “Deal.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @mjmygd @flsalazar @thedevilssinner @marina-and-the-memes @softempest @rebeccasship @pinkishredlemonade @faeoran

[gyuwoncheol]

Worth It

Pair: Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: Smut smut smut. Pwp. Fiancé!Mingyu, established relationship. 18+ only (MDNI).

Summary: Basically what happens when you tell Mingyu you’re his for the whole night.

Warnings: Mingyu in a white button down (this deserves a warning, yes), pwp, slight soft dom!Mingyu, very brief mention of dying but more as an expression, marking, oral (f. and m. receiving), unprotected piv sex (stay safe, children), wall sex, fingering, hand job, multiple orgasms, cum eating, brief light spanking, biting (it's actually just nipping), light anal rimming, squirting, overstimulation, use of color system, dirty talk, praise, use of pet names (good girl, greedy girl, baby), Gyu actually being really sweet if you look at the tiny details, mention of a married Jeonghan, speeding while driving (do NOT do this). Please let me know if I missed something!

WC: 3.5k

Author’s Note: I was working on 2 other wips when Mingyu just wouldn’t leave me alone. This is the result of that. Not my best work and not thoroughly proofread. But it is what it is. I just really needed to get this out of my system because the man is killing me. My inbox is very much open if you wanna thirst on Gyu with me!

Smut directly under the cut

“Gyu, if you keep touching me like that, i’m gonna wanna suck you off” you warned, swatting your fiancé’s hand away from your thigh

“I don’t see why that’s a problem” He shrugged happily, knuckles gripping onto the steering wheel tighter, excited at your proposition

“It’s a problem because you always close your eyes when you cum. You’re going to crash the car. I’d like to get fucked tonight, not die in an accident”

Mingyu laughed at your statement, not even disagreeing in the slightest bit. Yes you were both horny, but safety always came first, especially when it came to you. He wasn’t so sure what came over you. One moment you were both happily celebrating the wedding of your friends, and the next, you were whispering the dirtiest things in his ear during what he thought would be a romantic slow dance with you on the dancefloor.

Who could blame you though? Your fiancé looked every bit of scrumptious in his white button down today, plus he perfectly played his role of doting fiancé through the night: always holding your hand, always keeping you in his line of sight in the rare moments you two were separated, and always whispering 'i love you's'. He tried to be nice and not rush out the wedding venue right after the dance, and he succeeded for a while, but as the party drew on, it was getting more difficult to hide his boner so he practically dragged you to the car whilst waving a quick goodbye to your friends. 

"It's not my fault you're getting me riled up the whole night" he reasoned 

"It's also not my fault I'm engaged to the sexiest man in the world" 

Mingyu raised his brow at you whilst stopped at a red light, "it kinda is though... You did say yes when I proposed" 

"Then you better show me it was worth it" You challenged 

Just as the lights turned green, Mingyu could feel his dick twitch in his pants and he swore he never pressed on that gas pedal faster than he did. 

He couldn't even wait for you to unlock your doors before he was already kissing down your neck, his whole body pressed onto your back so you could feel his hard on. The feeling of his wet tongue on your burning skin had you fiddling for the wrong keys "Gyu! Slow down! I need to get us in" You pleaded with your source of distraction, "I'm yours the whole night, just let me get our keys right" 

"That's funny, you definitely weren't telling me to slow down or wait longer while you whispered all those things on the dance floor... But I will take you up on the offer of having you all night. That is noted" he said the last sentence in a low growl, sending chills down your spine.

Thankfully, the right key finally clicked and your door flew wide open. Mingyu drove you to the closest wall, your head lightly thumping against the hard surface. 

"shit! sorry baby" Mingyu's eyes grew wide, his hand immediately reaching over to the back of your head, worried he had just hurt you. 

You couldn't even care less, pushing your lips back on his for another kiss but Mingyu stopped you with his free hand, keeping you at half an arm's length. "No, no. I need to know. Are you okay?"

You saw just how quickly his eyes went from horny to caring and it got you even more turned on. 

"I'm okay baby, hardly even felt it" You rushed out, reaching for his neck to draw you closer to his lips again. This time, with his full cooperation.

It was everything but calm and collected. Mingyu didn't even leave you any room to fight for dominance as his tongue explored your mouth feverishly. 

He groaned when he felt your nails scratch lightly at his chest, his buttons now all undone and giving you access to his tanned skin. You slowly made your way through his chest, leaving love bites where you could and stripping him off the shirt. When your knees hit the floor, you excitedly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his black slacks, exposing his very hard cock that was fighting for release from the confines of his boxers which you eventually freed.

His angry tip momentarily brushed your lips as it sprang up against his stomach and Mingyu let out a moan from the brief contact. He just about died when you gently held his shaft, your tongue sticking out and just centimeters away from where he wanted you. It was as if time stopped for Mingyu. If he just knew where his phone was, he would have definitely memorialized this in a photo. 

Mingyu's precum was right there and you just needed to taste it, swiping your tongue fully on his tip before swirling it around him. You heard him curse which only prodded you even more, your thumb gently pressing down on where your tongue was just a few seconds ago as you slowly started to pump him up and down with both hands. The harder you worked him up, the more precum oozed out of him and everytime it did, you repeated the motion of pressing down on his tip before twisting your hands on his length. 

"Fuck baby, pleaseee" His voice strained. There was something about seeing that diamond ring on your finger as it wrapped around his cock that always got him in a mess

"Hm?" you blinked innocently, looking up at him through your lashes

"Mouth.. Tongue.. Please, I—" He stuttered and that was all you needed to finally get your lips wrapped around him, sucking with a fervor that had your fiance's eyes rolling to the back of his head. The taste of him sending a gush of wetness between your legs. 

Mingyu's mouth hung wide open, letting every whimper and moan come out in full volume as you slowly took more of his length with every bob of your head. You retracted when you were half way through, making sure your tongue was dragging on the underside of his cock to add to the sensation. A string of saliva connecting your lips to his dick.

"Been wanting this the whole night" you mumbled before letting more of your saliva drool onto his cock, earning a groan from your fiancé

You pumped him several more times with your hand before your mouth took him in again. This time, you took your time swirling your tongue and sucking him in, slowly making sure you were able to stuff as much of him down your throat. 

"Babyy— fuck, k-keep going" He encouraged. His large hand still behind your head, not pushing but also not letting you move away. 

You relaxed your jaw more and willed yourself to breathe through your nose. You moaned when he hit the back of your throat and it set goosebumps all over his body, a strained call of your name reverberating through the walls of your house. Your fingers covered what the rest of your mouth couldn’t and you synced your movements enough to have Mingyu jerking in no time 

"So fucking good. Swallowing me so well" 

Your tongue continued to move back and forth on the underside of his cock while your throat continued to spasm and your hand played with his balls. When you had adjusted well enough, you squeezed his right thigh to indicate you were good to go and he could fuck your face. 

And fuck your face, he did. 

With your mouth open wide and tongue sticking out, your fiancé went to town. His hand now fisted your hair in a ponytail as his cock continuously rammed through your throat, hitting the back every single time. You thanked yourself for wearing your toughest waterproof makeup and setting spray because at the rate Mingyu was going, you were definitely tearing up and drooling. As his movements stuttered, you held tightly to the back of his thighs so you could swallow as much of him as you can.

Mingyu closed his eyes shut at the feeling of your tight throat squeezing his cock, "Shit, baby I- I'm so c-close" 

You moaned one more time, setting him off as his pelvis jerked and you saw his head fall back.with a groan. Thick spurts of his cum coated your throat and it only made you moan against him harder, fully adding onto the stimulation your fiancé was feeling. You swallowed thickly with all he had to give you, milking out Mingyu to the very last drop. 

"FUCK" He exhaled, finally stilling you by the shoulders and slipping out. You gasped for air and wiped your face with the back of your hand, a tantalizing smile staring up at Mingyu

He noted how you swallowed him dry and wiped the tears that stained your cheek.

"My good girl.”

You smiled at him, proud of the work you've done and the praise you got. "Your good girl" you repeated 

"Cmere" he called, helping you up hastily and trapping you against the wall for the second time that night

His hand found its place again behind your head, cushioning it from the wall, while the other was hiking up your long silky dress. 

"Gyu..." You inhaled sharply when his mouth latched onto your collar bone, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. Just then you felt his fingers cup your pussy and you both moaned at the feeling 

"Fuck baby, no panties?" 

You shook your head, biting your lower lip to contain the cheeky smile forming 

"Why didn't you tell me? We could've gone home as soon as Jeonghan said 'I Do'… y/n, you're leaking" Your fiance stated the obvious when he brushed your thighs, not even giving you the chance to answer his question

“All you, Gyu”

You saw his pupils blow out at your statement, a cocky smirk written all over his face, two thick fingers immediately slipping into your wet hole “What’s that?”

“S-shit..” you gasped, “it’s you. All cause of you.” you repeated, body jerking at the way his fingers hooked on your insides

“My good girl already so wet just sucking me off huh? Didn’t even need to touch you to have your sweet pussy soaking" 

"oh my go— Oh god" 

If the squelching sounds you could hear weren’t enough an indication to how wet you were, surely the slippery sensation in your pussy and thighs were

"Jump" you heard Mingyu demand and you lifted your feet off in no time. His strong arms supporting you by the thighs, his hands just below your pussy where he definitely felt some of your juices dripping. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you were now perfectly sandwiched between the concrete wall and your human wall. 

"Mingyu" you mewled, forehead dropping to his shoulder when you felt the tip of his cock slip right into your cunt. Your body involuntarily moved higher but Mingyu was quick enough to pull you down, sheathing a few more inches of his length inside you

"Look at you, so wet, you don't even need prep to take me" He praised, pushing another inch further into you as another strangled moan ripped through your throat 

Soon enough, your pussy was contracting against Mingyu's dick, the slight pain present awhile ago was now coming in waves of pleasure for you. 

"S'good thing you're soaking baby 'case you're tight pussy's sucking me in so well" 

Mingyu couldn't stop whispering dirty things in your ear, prodding you enough until you were exerting all your upper body strength to bounce on his cock. A couple times he would completely slip out with how wet you were but he was always quick enough to sheath himself back into your hole before you could fully whine. 

"babyyyy" You moaned, the orgasm suddenly appearing hot in your heels already. "m'close. Please.."

"Please what, m' love?" Mingyu thrusted deeply, hitting your gspot with perfect accuracy. If he hadn't held you so tightly, you were sure you would’ve fallen out 

"Cum... P-please. Please let me cu--" the last word dying in your throat when he fully withdrew his cock only to push it right in with double the force of the last. You were seeing stars and the knot in your stomach was holding on for dear life.

"My good girl wants to cum?" 

"YES!" You cried out, "Please.. was good. I w-was good" 

Mingyu chuckled, thoroughly enjoying how broken you sounded when begging for release. With a low whisper to your ear, he let you have what you asked for "Let go, baby" 

If Mingyu wasn't back to being fully erect awhile ago, then he is now with the way your gummy walls clamped so tightly around him, your orgasm flowing through you as your fiancé moved his body against yours in soft body rolls to help you ride out your orgasm. 

"so good, Gyu. So good.. so good" you chanted with hushed tones

When he felt you calm down, Mingyu planted a kiss on your temple telling you to 'hang tight' when he suddenly lifted you off the wall and made large strides to the stairwell of your home, all while still being inside you. In a moment, he opened your bedroom door, stopping at the light switch for you to flick it on. 

"Y/n" he called you in a tone that sent shivers down your spine. He was now standing at the edge of your king sized bed, eyes staring deep into your soul. "Dress off" he demanded.

It was only then you realised how he had been fully naked since forever ago while you were still definitely covered in silk and cotton. You threw the material on the floor at the same time Mingyu slipped out of you and threw you to the bed, your body lightly bouncing on the mattress sending you into a giggles

"I love you" you declared to the man still standing tall with his arms crossed at the edge of your bed. Your eyes glanced at his cock that stood against his stomach, still glistening with your slick, before raking up his toned abs and then back to his face. 

"I love you baby" Mingyu replied with a smile that boasted his canines

It was romantic really, but only for a few seconds, because when Mingyu saw your cum drip out of your hole, his pointer finger made quick work to scoop it up and plug it back in your hole. The gasp you let out had him flashing you a devilish grin, one you knew all too well.

He lifted your legs slowly, placing them over his shoulders while he maintained eye contact with you, his face inching closer and closer. The smell of your sex just making his dick twitch for the nth time that night. When he deemed himself close enough, he blew cold air on your pussy, enough to make your hips buck up, immediately latching his mouth onto your wet folds. A strangled moan of his name was the first thing he heard, followed by the lewd squelches his mouth made against your cunt. 

"Ooohhh my goooood, Mingyuuuuu" you drawled out when his tongue entered your hole, slurping all the cum he had just caught a few seconds ago

He beamed when he finished swallowing your juices, his face lifting up with a toothy grin, "So sweet. All mine" he declared, before licking a fat stripe from your hole to your clit.

Your moans got louder the more he controlled your writhing in bed, not at all caring that you were about to get wrecked with another orgasm with the way his mouth was making out with your pussy: licking through your folds, sucking and swirling on your clit, pumping his tongue in and out of your hole. He felt your fingers run through his hair before harshly pulling at the strands but it only prodded him more. Taking hold of your legs, he raised them forward so you were now folded in half. A growl rumbled through his chest when he saw just how puffy your pussy got from what he did. 

Mingyu delivered two light spanks on your ass before he dove back in to nip and suck at your skin before soothing it with his tongue. The feeling of his teeth grazing your inner thigh was a welcomed addition to every sensation you were feeling down there. 

"Keep going, Gyu" You panted, "Please" 

Your fiancé didn't need to be told twice, making sure he didn't leave any area of your pussy uncovered. Between the light spanking, sucking and nipping, the skin on your thighs were now blooming a bright shade of pink. 

He knew you were close when your right leg trembled with a jerk.

"Cmon, baby. Be my good girl and cum for me.." 

Your eyes met his briefly before pushing his head down to meet your hip. Your orgasm was right there, you could feel it wanting to fall, to break, but you needed something more you couldn't exactly pin point. You squeezed your breasts with your free hand but to no avail. Your fiance's tongue was slurping from your hole, his nose stimulating your clit, yet it wasn't enough. 

"Gyuuu.... So c-close, pleaaase! N-need mo-oore" 

It's a good thing Mingyu knew your body more than you did, because the moment you felt his thumb tease the tight rim of your ass, you didn't only cum, you squirted.

“FUCK, YES” Mingyu celebrated

A silent scream racked through your chest, knocking all air out of your lungs. If your ears weren't just ringing so loudly, you would've heard Mingyu moan out more curse words before diving into your cunt to lap up everything he could. In just a few seconds, your back was arching again as you fought to push his mouth off you. Your whole body was shaking from that earth shattering orgasm, your pussy feeling like it was on fire as overstimulation crept in. 

Mingyu laced his fingers through your hand but his attempt to ground you was contradicting the words that came out of his mouth. 

"Don’t push me away, baby. Thought you needed more? didn't think my good girl was gonna be a greedy one tonight" 

He was chuckling at how far gone you were, mumbling incoherent words to him. All he could really make out was the occasional call of his name. 

"Baby.." you groaned desperately when you felt him leave light kisses on the knuckles of your hand that he was holding 

"Hmm?"

"I—" you stammered, between the wetness of your sheets and your insides still trembling, you weren't really sure how to string words together

"Does my greedy girl want more?" Mingyu's brow raised, the tone in his voice suggesting that he was not done with you yet. You felt his whole body hover over you, a comforting warmth that made you feel safe and loved despite every single dirty thing he was just doing to you.

"You can give me more, right baby?" Your fiancé asked while one hand pumped his hard cock languidly

"you did say I could have you the whole night… you meant that, right?" 

Mingyu saw you look at him in a daze, nodding eagerly even though he knew his words were still registering in your brain

"Y/n, baby… color." He cleared out, wanting to make sure you really did want this. He could read you well in moments like this, but even if he did, Mingyu always made sure he heard the words from you.

He saw you pause and he was ready to drop everything, ready to scoop you in a cuddle then run you a warm bath while he changed the sheets. He could care less if he didn't get to cum a second time tonight, at least he had his fair share awhile ago. But he waited patiently for your words. 

The silence lingered long enough that he felt like asking the question again, just in case you didn't hear him. 

"G-green, Gyu" you choked out, your throat feeling dry as the desert "But... could I get some water, please?" You asked, your face wincing at how difficult it was to form that one sentence alone.

You were sure it had only been two seconds since you asked, yet your fiancé was already helping you sit up, a jug of water with a straw in hand so you could quench your thirst. Mingyu gently cupped your cheek as you drank, his thumb caressing your skin before planting a soft kiss on your forehead

You smiled gratefully at him after drinking probably half the jug, "Thank you, babe" 

He drank some water too before settling it down on the floor, and then facing you. The crinkles on his eyes were showing and despite having his hair stick out in odd places, he still was the most handsome man you've laid your eyes on.

"I love you, y/n" 

You closed the gap between you, a chaste kiss on his lips despite getting a slight taste of yourself. "I love you, Gyu"

Your hand held the back of his neck, the mischievous glint in your eyes making a reappearance after that necessary water break. Mingyu's devilish grin followed suit too when you uttered your next words, a redeclaration of how this all began. 

"I'm yours the whole night." 

[huskersbooze]

Bambi

Alastor x Reader

Summary : Alastor returns from his outing one day, finding a guest lying on the floor, unconscious, in front of the Hazbin Hotel. Untrue to Alastor fashion, scaring most of the staff members, he decides to keep the fascinating creature in his broadcasting studio, and when she wakes up, she's forgotten everything, even her name. And when Alastor starts calling her nicknames in the mean time, he accidentally gives her one that she ends up growing attached to..

Warnings : N/A

Pairing : Alastor x F!Reader (Gn!Reader here, M!Reader here)

Additional tags : Fluff(?), mentions of amnesia, Alastor actually being nice?!

Word count : 1.06k

“Wonderful, just wonderful! You’re awake!”

A staticky voice drew you out of your thoughts. Surprised, you snapped your neck towards the sound, and a rather tall and slim figure was right at your face.

“Charming, I haven’t seen you around here before!”

You flinch as the figure leans closer, causing them to back away slightly.

“Who.. who are you?”

“Pleasure to meet you, dear, just a pleasure! I'm Alastor, the Radio Demon. And who might you be?"

"I..” You reply. “I don't know." 

He seems taken aback by your response slightly, but his smile doesn't falter. Instead he cocks his head to the side and blinks at you.

"What's your name?"

You stay quiet for a while until you give an uncertain head tilt back to him.

"I don't know.."

The grin still very much glued to his face, he leaned a bit closer to you, voice dropping to a more hushed tone.

"Darling, you don't remember your name, or you don't know your name?"

"I.. I don't remember." You fight the urge to start fidgeting with your hands, looking down to the ground as your memories become a hazy blur.

"You don't remember? Your name? Anything?"

"No.."

He doesn't seem to let his bright smile falter at that, although his expression shifts slightly towards curiosity.

"Quite the fascinating creature you are." He blinks a couple of times before he shifts to lean against what seemed to be a broadcasting panel, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Intriguing, really. Do you know what happened to your memory?"

"No.. not really."

"Well, that's unfortunate." The Radio Demon lets out a chuckle, static still laced in his laugh. "It seems you're in a bit of a dilemma, aren't you, Bambi?"

"Bambi.. I like it." You reply.

"Pardon me?" He raises his eyebrow at you, surprised at your statement.

"Bambi. I like the sound of that."

He laughs, a smile sounding from him again. There was something so unsettling yet alluring about him.

"That is rather fitting, I suppose. Bambi.. it's not a bad name." He thinks for a few seconds, stroking his chin as he considers. "And I suppose I'll need something to refer to you if you're staying. It fits you.."

"Staying?"

"Where do you think you are right now, darling? You certainly didn't expect me to leave you out there with your memories wiped with nowhere to go?"

"I.."

"Surely you hoped to stay for accommodation and basic necessities?" The Radio Demon asks, curiosity glinting in his eyes. "You've lost your memory after all, have you not?"

"Yes.." You hesitantly replied. Sure, you've lost your memory, but you weren't stupid enough to follow a random Radio Demon around without knowing him.

"I don't bite, Bambi. I can guarantee everyone at the hotel will treat you with the respect you deserve. And if they don't, all you need to do is let me know and I'll handle them for you."

"Hotel?"

"My, my, you really are a clueless little deer." Alastor uses a cane-typed staff to ruffle your hair. “So fragile and just the cutest little thing.”

“Thank.. you?”

Alastor tilts his head to the side curiously.

"It seems as if my teasing isn't upsetting you. How strange." He merely comments. “Oh, to understand your lost little mind.”

You carefully scan the room. It seemed to be a broadcasting studio, the room simply in red. Totally wasn’t sinister at all.

“So, what do you say, Bambi? We wouldn't mind providing you with all the necessities you need for now.”

“Necessities?”

Alastor chuckles again.

"Like, a bed, for example! Or, oh, I'm sure you'd want new clothes as well, right? And... if that's not enough, we do serve breakfast the next day. If you want food, that is..."

“Jambalaya..” You mutter, mostly to yourself as you’re lightly lost in thought.

Alastor’s grin widens a little, his ears perking slightly at the sudden mention of his favourite food.

"I can't say that I was expecting that, but... yes, we actually do have jambalaya on the menu for lunch. How'd you know that?"

“Oh, sorry.. I was just talking to myself. It’s my favourite food.” You stifle a blush as you let out an embarrassed smile.

“Ah, so you do remember some things, Bambi.” He raises his voice in curiosity, walking towards a trapdoor in the floor. “Come along, dear, let’s bring you to Charlie.”

“Charlie?”

“The owner of the hotel, and also the Princess of Hell.”

“We’re in hell?”

Alastor stops in his tracks as the two of you reach the hallways, finally out of Alastor’s broadcasting tower.

“After our whole conversation, you just noticed?”

“I.. I suppose so.”

“Oh, dear, you really are just one mysterious creature, aren't you? To think you just appeared here, with no memories of yourself, of the world, and even what you're doing here in Hell. You are truly fascinating..”

Alastor smirks, speaking in a lower voice. “Charlie will be delighted to have you here.”

After introductions and such, Charlie settles you into the room next to Alastor’s, opposite of Angel Dust, and introduces you to all the staff.

“So.. who are ya’ exactly?” The white spider raises a hand, slouching on the couch with a grey cat beside him. 

“This is our new guest!” Charlie introduces. “Alastor found her unconscious and offered to let her stay.”

“That doesn’t really answer the question, princess.” The grey cat speaks up, seemingly bored from the unoriginality of these introductions.

“Well, Husker, our little friend here has lost her memories.” Alastor speaks up from beside you, ruffling your hair with his staff-cane-thing once more. You still couldn’t make out what it was really supposed to be.

“Lost her memories?” Vaggie is the one to speak up this time. 

“Indeed. It seems our dear friend doesn't even remember her own name, let alone anything else.”

“Then what a’ we s’posed to refer to her as?” Angel questions.

“You could call me Bambi..” You mutter softly, gaze glued to your own feet.

“Works for me.” Husk shrugs.

“Sure.” Angel replies.

Vaggie and Niffty nods.

You feel the static beside you grow a bit louder, and as you shift your gaze, you see Alastor keeping his composure with his backs behind his back, his eyes on you as he gives you a soft, and genuine smile.

“You’re going to love it here, Bambi.” He says.

———/ End. /———

[intimidating-fettuccine]

What drew some of them to you as yanderes

For Toby, it was your kindness. Toby in general has always wanted someone to fully accept him, but that is multiplied tenfold when he's a yandere. I think you two probably started out as friends, maybe naturally, or maybe he spotted you being especially kind in a park one day and orchestrated your entire friendship from the beginning. Regardless, once Toby spots you and decides you're the kind, loving individual he's been searching for, there's no getting away from him. He's the only one deserving of your kindness, and he'll make sure you understand that if it's the last thing he does. Even when he has to show you repeated unkindness in locking you away, injuring you on a regular basis, it's for your own good, and one day you'll understand that.

For Jeff, it was how docile you were. Yandere Jeff strives to constantly be in control of you and everything around you, and after witnessing you being particularly docile, regardless of the situation, his mind convinced him that he could do it, he could control you easily. Regardless of whether that is true or not, Jeff is one of the fastest moving creeps when it comes to abducting you as he moves on impulse, and you'll be in his clutches whether you'll be nice and docile for him or not. Unfortunately, it's not like it matters how you behave, as his control and anger issues can hardly ever be toned down or stopped, but you can certainly try your best to make life more bearable.

For Slender, on the opposite side, it was how confident you were. Slender wants a darling that can be conditioned into behaving, but also still retains a backbone. He doesn't want your spirit to wear down, no, he wants a fighter, someone to push back so he has a reason to constantly remind you of your place and the fact that it's below him. Whether it was how kind and excitable to those around you that you were, or how strong and resilient you appeared, the fact that you were clearly confident in who you are as a person drew him right into you. Of course, ever the master manipulator, Slender has no qualms in turning the tables in his favor and getting you to be his. He just hopes you'll put up a good enough fight while he does so, so make sure to keep him entertained.

For Helen, it was how strongly you shined in his eyes. Helen is the most reverent as a yandere, viewing you as a God he has to praise, rather than a human being he's keeping locked away. Everything about you just seems so holy to him, so absolutely perfect, so beautifully made, and something like that has to be protected. You're so precious and delicate, you have to be hidden away from the outside world so nothing can sully you or taint you. It's up to him as the only person who understands your true worth to keep you locked away and safe, where he can praise you every day and make sure that beautiful shine of yours never fades away.

For BEN, it was how entertaining you are. When BEN decides to lock you away and hold you prisoner to himself, he does so because he finds you so inexplicably entertaining. No matter how you react, no matter what you do, he just finds so much enjoyment and entertainment in every single thing you do. It doesn't matter if you hate him or if you love him, or if you decide to just ignore him altogether, he just can't stop getting a laugh out of the whole situation. He supposes he'll just have to keep you all to himself forever, that way he never has to miss out on any of those absolutely adorable reactions of yours when he holds you prisoner, when he destroys anything you once held dear, when he puts anyone interfering with him holding onto you in harm's way. You're just so cute it's laughable.

[sequinsnstars]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ fresh page, on the desk ݁˖ ⊹ ‧₊˚

JASON GRACE .ᐟ

ingredients; mason grace and cupcakes

fyi; gn reader who is roman but has no specified godly parent, timeline is messy but wtv, cursing, i reference media i like bc i’m self indulgent, little additions to the hoo plot, silly little 4th wall breaking

notes; first fic hii, lmk ur thoughts! probably a series 👀 big thank u to all my fave pjo writers/moots for inspiring this 🫶🏽 @hopelesslyromanticshark @jgracie @cinemaconrad

wc; 1.7k

food mood; classic vanilla cupcakes. perhaps with a light chocolate frosting.

Cyclops Books was your safe haven.

After a long day of excessive criticism during training, it was the perfect place to allow yourself to relax your posture, if only a little bit. You loved your friends, yes, but sometimes you just needed a little break from it all. The entirety of New Rome was your third place. The somehow always-green grass and thriving flowers, the curved cobblestone streets leading to homes filled with laughter and warmth, the lingering scents of the bakery’s famous freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies – you could go on. Even Terminus couldn’t stop you from coming here as much as you were able to.

So why was it so off today?

As you took your usual evening stroll before dinner, you noticed that almost all the homes and shops had their bright white porch lights on and the usual soft, yellowed string ones were put away. Not to mention the lack of New Rome Elementary kids playing outside after school, or the fact that the usual cozy atmosphere felt tight and formal: the exact thing you tried to get away from by coming here. It even felt like the sunset sky was trying its best to remain a single organized color rather than its usual gorgeous, messy, watercolor-like self.

You tried not to think about it much as you entered your favorite bookstore. Your bookstore. It had been ever since your first visit years ago. It had taken a while to grow accustomed to camp. During the New Rome field trip for fresh campers, something about it drew you in. The warm hanging lights and the stacked bookshelves reminded you of a shop in one of the many cities you’d lived in. That one had always been your favorite. Tyson and Ella had welcomed you strongly that day, cheering, “New campers! New campers!” and shoving slightly burnt croissants in your face. After seeing all your favorite mortal books for sale, you decided it would be the first of many times you entered the place. It wasn’t long before you striked up a friendship with the two owners – they were some of your favorite people to see, plus, they let you pick out their store music!

(As of late, you’d mostly been playing the new Taylor Swift album.)

You opened the door, greeted with the familiar out-of-tune entry bells. Ella was curled up in her cardboard box, sleeping, but she peeked out when she saw you.

“Hello!” Her eyes lit up.

You smiled. “It’s nice to see you too, Ella.” According to what Percy had said about his first quest with Hazel and Frank, Ella was a lot more content now that she was with Tyson. You were truly happy for the couple, they had been nothing but sweet to you and they deserved all the good things coming to them.

She yawned and murmured, “Big event today. Tyse preparing in back. Back, back, back… Back to December. Taylor Swift. Speak Now. Now, now, now…” and promptly dozed off again. You let her sleep, heading to the romance section to hopefully find the new Emily Henry book. Still, you couldn’t shake the thought out of your mind. 

You entered the next aisle, thankfully getting your hands on the last copy of Funny Story. You took another quick walk through the areas you normally shopped from, since the store almost always had copies of books before they were officially released. It was unclear how Tyson and Ella managed to do this, but you suspected it had something to do with all the excess time a certain son of Vulcan–sorry, Hephaestus–had been spending on his computer, finding passcodes for mysterious files.

Not that you were complaining.

You walked a little faster to the R section when you spotted Love of the Gods!, a packed adventure about three mortals, Peter, Annie, and Grant, stumbling upon an entrance to the Underworld at a Halloween party and pet sitting the three-headed dog, Cerebrus. Silently, you thanked Leo for saving you from the four months of wait time for the official release.

Heading to checkout, you picked up a few new annotation tabs and cute pens for when you started reading your new books. You peeked over the counter to see if Tyson had come back – you really were curious about what was happening today. You were about to head into the staff-only back room (perks of being friends with the owners) until you saw a rose-adorned china bowl filled with cupcake batter just by the door.

Ella’s birthday was approaching fast, so you remembered that Tyson was preparing. He’d told you that he was going to make some sweet treats in advance, as well as plan to surprise her with Eras Tour tickets and ask Taylor to play The Alchemy and You Are In Love as the acoustic set.

You were so not jealous that Leo and the couple had gotten to attend a listening party for The Tortured Poets Department as a thank you for that one time they went on a quest to retrieve an enchanted scarf from the monster James Gyllenborg. Who said that?

You were focused on the food in front of you, but if you’d looked up to see who walked in when you heard the door bells chime, you might have avoided the fiasco about to happen.

Your books were tucked under your arm so you could help Tyson out a little and start pouring the batter into cute heart-shaped molds. You filled two cups and were getting ready to start a third when someone shoved your back, hard. The two novels you were about to purchase fell into the batter bowl, now completely soaked. Your jaw dropped.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” mumbled a voice from behind you.

“Watch where you’re going,” you hissed. If it was another one of those annoying New Rome boys, you swore you were going to–

You turned around and saw a blonde boy wearing a black vintage varsity jacket, blue jeans, and a pair of Chuck Taylors. You would have brushed the matter aside and treated him like anyone else if you hadn’t seen the Imperial gold glasses, the scar on his lip, and that pair of electric blue eyes.

The same ones half the camp fawned over.

Holy Tartarus.

“Praetor Grace,” you said.

Jason tensed at the name. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

There was a bit of awkward silence, then he continued. “Every few months, either Reyna or I come here with the intention of doing shop inspections. Council work. Normally, we go in and introduce ourselves, but usually when I come here… is his name Tyson?”

“Tyson,” you agreed, still reeling from the shock.

“Yes. Him. He gets stressed out when I say I’m praetor, so I dressed a little differently this time, to say the least. I only hope he doesn’t know my face well enough to recognize me.”

So that was why he was out of his professional attire. Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t have guessed he co-led the camp. Oh gods, this must have been why New Rome was on edge today.

Jason peered over your shoulder to look at the bowl. His eyes widened when he saw the books. “Shit. Did I do that? I’m so sorry, I’ll pay–”

“No, it was an accident, it’s not your fault,” you interjected. You did not want to have to deal with the awkwardness of the praetor paying for you. Besides, Tyson didn’t mind these kinds of things too much, since you two were close.

Just then, said Cyclops walked out.

Both you and Jason rushed in front of the bowl mess. You weren’t anxious about the books – it was the batter. If Tyson found out it was ruined, he’d be devastated.

You felt queasy seeing the grin on his face. How were you going to get yourself out of this?

“Friend!” he exclaimed. “Brought another friend… a boyfriend?”

Laughing nervously, you said, “No, not my–”

Jason took your hand in his calloused yet warm one and beamed at Tyson. “That’s right. The name’s Mason. I’ve heard all about this wonderful shop!” 

What the fuck?

He looked at you, a hint of pleading in his eyes. Oh. You understood.

“Yes, he has, obviously.” You nodded hastily. “I just had to tell my loving, sweet, gorgeous boyfriend all about Cyclops Books!”

(Was it you, or did the praetor turn a little pink?)

He recovered fast, replying with, “Pfft. Says the most amazing, beautiful, and talented baker I know.” Jason moved aside to reveal what you’d been doing before he entered the store. At first, you panicked, but when you looked at the bowl and books, they were clean and separated, as if nothing had happened at all.

Tyson gasped. “Cupcakes!” He ran to clear items off the counter so he could move the setup to a better area.

“How did you do that?” You whispered out the corner of your mouth.

“Gravity acts on air. Child of Jupiter stuff and all that. I lifted the books out and transported the excess batter back into the bowl. Any remaining dust or bacteria I sent back into the atmosphere. I tried to direct it to the sewers. The cupcakes are fine.”

“Wow.” You were impressed. He’d gone that far for someone he barely even knew?

Tyson returned to pick up the baking materials and put them on the counter. He looked up with a bright expression. “Wait. Double date! Ella! Me! Mason! You! Pretty please?”

Um.

You were about to say no and tell him about getting punishment from Reyna – having to clean out Scipio’s stable for the whole week. It wasn’t a lie; you had been caught skipping out on training a few days ago. You were surprised Terminus even let you into New Rome, considering he was usually informed on who broke camp rules. But before you could respond, your new boyfriend did.

“That sounds perfect! This Friday at six? We could visit the cinema, maybe?”

Gleefully, the Cyclops clapped. “Yay! Good idea!”

“Great! It’s a date!” Jason smiled. He glanced at you, but you couldn’t read his expression. “I’ll pick you up thirty minutes early. I’ve got to go help out Cohort 5 now really quick, there’s a soldier that needs tending to. I’ll see you later?”

You stared at him for a few seconds before processing what he was asking you. “Of course. Totally. Yeah.”

He nodded and winked as he left the shop.

What just happened?

hope you enjoyed the meal!

thank you for your order and your waitress siara hopes you come again soon 💌

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Baki Series:

Sunset Seeker

Yandere Jack Hanma x Fem Reader

TW: Yandere behavior, uncomfortable encounter, etc.

Kindness. Compassion. Love. Those three were foreign emotions to Jack Hanma. A difficult conundrum to the blonde warrior… especially because he finally experienced those emotions through his nurse, (your name).

She was soft and sweet. The kind of girl any guy would want to be with, maybe that was what drew Jack in… like a moth to her flame.

Jack was drawn to (your name) to an unnatural degree. He knew there was no way she’d pick him out from the two… he was too boorish. He could not compete with the luxuries Hanayama had or the warmth Katsumi could give her. He was not warm like the morning sun or relaxing like the midnight moon, no. Jack was the sunset.

A time where the day had ended and night began. A fleeting existence that few appreciated as they retired for the day or prepared to go out after dusk.

Jack ran a hand through his buzzcut and sighed. He couldn’t be distracted by these feelings, he had a goal to fulfill…

And yet Jack found himself on the doorstep of (your name)’s home. His large body looked completely out of place near the quaint home. The same way he felt whenever he was near (your name).

Jack stuck his face in his hands and sighed. What was he doing? This was all so-

Jack was surprised to see (your name) stand in front of him with her keys in her hand. Her eyebrow was quirked and her face held a perplexed expression.

“Jack? What brings you to my humble abode?” (Your name) softly asked the grumpy giant.

“…” Jack sat there for a minute before he sighed. “I just wanted to see you.”

(Your name) furrowed her brow in confusion. Jack wanted to see her? She thought he disliked her… “Did someone finally knock the last bit of sense out of you? Do you have a concussion?”

Jack shook his head and loudly sighed. Of course she wouldn’t if understand. Jack, himself, didn’t understand his desire to see her either. “No… I-I.”

Jack clenched his fists as he tried to search for the words. He was a man of very few and this was far more stressful than he had imagined it would be.

“I saw you and Katsumi.” Jack’s voice was so quiet, she almost didn’t hear him. “I’m jealous.”

Someone might as well have told (your name) that pigs could fly from the expression she had on her face. Jack was jealous… of her? Or Katsumi? Jack had a complete disinterest in women so she had a feeling he may have been gay.

“I apologize if you feel that way, but I can assure you that Katsumi is-“ (your name) gulped when a Jack stood up at his full height. His body now towered over her.

“Katsumi is weird… and so is Hanayama.” Jack gently placed his palms on her shoulders, the mass of his hands nearly swallowed her whole. “Why do you surround yourself with men who have strange intentions?”

(Your name) pursed her lip, confusion began to seep into her skin. Why would Jack be so concerned about her friend (and new boyfriend)? It’s not like he- oh my… Jack liked her? Is that why he was so unnecessarily mean?

The constant nagging, the awkward gestures, and his constant verbal attack on (your name)’s friends’ character were all because he was flirting? Holy hell, this was an entire revelation.

“Jack, I had no idea-“

“I’m not romantic. Hell, I’m not even nice.” Jack sucked in a breath. “I don’t deserve your kindness, I never did but… I enjoyed your care.”

(Your name) blinked when Jack bent down to her height, his face now a foot from hers. Even at her height now, Jack’s presence felt could swallow her whole.

“You never treated me like a monster.” Jack’s voice was barely above a whisper yet his words pierced her very soul and his eyes… his cinnamon eyes were filled with so much emotion, she could drown in them. “I don’t know how to say how I feel, but I could show you.”

And that’s when Jack leaned forward and pressed the most awkward kiss on her cheeks. His lips were slightly chapped and she could feel a bit of saliva on her skin. Jack’s entire body trembled before he began to pepper her cheeks with another. And then one more… and soon it was a barrage of kisses, each one more intense than the last.

“Hey. Hey!” (Your name) had to put her hands on Jack’s lips to stop him. “Stop that. If I wanted to be kissed by a dog, I’d go to my friend’s house-“

(Your name) squealed when Jack licked her palms. “Ew! Jack-“

“I can’t get enough of how you taste…” Jack whispered, his tongue darted out to lick his lips. “No wonder Hanayama always said you tasted sweet.”

What the hell did he mean by that?! She’s never kissed Hanayama… Hanayama a weirdo too, wasn’t he? At least Katsumi seemed normal.

“That… leave the premise immediately!” (Your name) shook her hands to try to get the feeling of his saliva off.

Jack chuckled at her reaction… this one was so much better than the others he has gotten from her. The way her nose crinkled in disgust while her cheeks were a beet red, it was exhilarating. Jack wanted to see more… but he knew he’s already pushed too far. He didn’t want to get involved with the police again.

“Alright, alright. I apologize.” Jack stuck up his arms in surrender. “But think about what I said. I’m the only one who hasn’t really hidden my intentions from you.”

Jack gave (your name) a small pat on the back before he sauntered off into the sunset. The young woman now left to her own devices…

(Your name) still couldn’t understand what he meant by what Hanayama had said about her tasting sweet. She barely talked with that man, let alone kissed him.

(Your name) shook her head and sighed before she went into her home. A giant bouquet of roses sat at the center of her table, a large card attached to them.

‘From your Midnight Man.’

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Now Loading...

Starring Vampire!Gojo, who's become obsessed with his favorite barista at an overnight cafe. He knows that they're soulmates. He just has to convince her that they are as well.

CONTENT WARNING: This fic contains Yandere typical behavior, kidnapping, obsession, noncon/dubcon, blood kink, (spit kink if ya squint), unprotected sex, references to murder, and mind control. Obviously I condone none of this behavior, and reader discretion is heavily advised.

Satrou watched as you fluttered around your apartment, lighting candles and turning on Over the Garden Wall. You had on your coziest sweater, and not a single overhead light was in use- opting instead for the warm glow of your table and floor lamps. You were welcoming in fall with everything you had in you. You looked warm, cozy, and safe. And despite all of that, he couldn’t help but imagine just how much warmer, cozier, and safer you would look trapped in his mansion.

He adjusted his sitting position on his tree branch, watching you pumpkin spice your tea as you cuddled up on the couch. He loved that you left your curtains open just for him, just so he’d be able to keep an eye on you. He knew it had to be for him, who else could watch you on the fifth floor? And if you didn’t want to be watched at all, surely you would close your curtains. It didn’t make sense for you to just leave them open for no reason. Not with the amount of creeps running around in this town. Creeps he would protect you from.

He thought back to the first time he met you. A brand new barista at his favorite overnight cafe, seemingly hand picked for him. Your sparkling eyes and dazzling smile drew him in, but your irresistible smell is what trapped him. Like warm cinnamon and honeyed apples, already nostalgic to him even if it was his first time experiencing the smell. He was hyper aware of the fangs in his mouth, the need to sink them into whatever was producing that intoxicating smell threatening to overtake him. He felt like a cartoon character drawn to a fresh pie on a windowsill. Your voice sounded damn near angelic. He could still remember the poetry you relayed to him, the first words ever spoken between the two of you. Words he'd treasure forever.

“Hey, I like your glasses!” You smiled, definitely being nice to him because you liked him not just because you wanted a tip. He almost blushed. His glasses- round with red lenses- were more for utility than they were a fashion statement, or something he even liked wearing. They hid his eyes, making them appear to be intensely blue rather than the bright red they really were. Still, if you liked them he’d wear them until the inevitable heat death of the earth. 

“Oh, thanks.” He chuckled nervously, giving you a tight lipped smile. He didn’t want to freak you out with his…condition. At least not yet. 

“No problem man, what can I get you tonight?” It was then and there he decided you would be his one day.

And it was here and now he decided one day was today. He stood up on his branch and leaned against the trunk of the tree. He watched as you did your regular bedtime routine, going to sleep safe and relaxed, knowing your prince charming was coming to take you to his castle tonight. He knew you were on the same wavelength as he was. He knew from the friendly smiles you gave him every time he came into your cafe, from the way you spoke to him as if he was an old friend- with trust and understanding.

Like, when you first started talking about your boyfriend for example. At first, he thought you were trying to discourage his affections, hint at him to go away. But, he quickly came to his senses. You were his one true love, and he was yours, why would you try and throw that away for some mortal asshole? It wasn’t hard for him to figure out that you were asking him to take out the trash. 

He remembered how pathetic that boy sounded as he pleaded for his life. It disgusted Satoru that he was able to get so close to you. You deserved someone that could defend you, not some child that cried the moment things got dicey. You deserved him, Satoru Gojo. No one else would do. Still, it was an honor to take care of this chore for you, even if he wished it had been more of a challenge. He was glad to have taken on the task. It reaffirmed his love for you, and the desire to give you what you deserved. 

The lights in your neighbors windows finally went out, assuring him that no one would try to be a hero if you decided to play hard to get. He waited another hour to make sure everyone was asleep before he dropped out of the tree, taking on his bat form and flying to your window. He turned back into a human, catching himself on your brick windowsill. It was around now he realized he didn’t exactly think this through, but- it’s fine. It’s fine! This is true love, this is fate, things were going to work out. Probably. 

He pulled himself up, balancing with one arm on the thin ledge and opening your window with the other. He smiled when he found it unlocked, confirming that not only were you on the same page as him, you were waiting for him. Good girl. He slid into your studio apartment, and immediately had to brace himself against a wall. It was overwhelming just how much this space smelled like you. It made sense, of course, you spent more of your time here than anywhere else. He expected it to be rich with your smell, but he didn’t expect it to be so intoxicating. He could feel his fangs buzzing with the need to feed, and his body flush with lust. He was down right giddy at the realization that soon, his home would smell like this. 

But he had to get you there first. He straightened up, coming to his senses as he turned took at your sleeping form. He felt his chest tighten with affection. You looked so peaceful when you were asleep, softly snoring and completely content. You looked ethereal in the pale moonlight, snuggled under your fluffy blanket. If he saw a picture of you like this, he wouldn’t believe you were real. Which, is saying something cause he’s, ya know, a fucking vampire. 

He strode over to your bedside, gently running the back of his knuckles along your angelic jawline. “Rise and shine, beautiful. It’s time to go home.” He whispered softly into your ear, his rich voice filling your mind and causing you to stir.

“Mm- wha..” You muttered softly, not fully understanding the gravity of the situation in your groggy state.

“Come on darling, our bed is waiting for you at home.” He cooed again, taking your warm hand into his ice cold claws. 

“Wha..wait, Gojo?”

“You can call me Satoru. Or Love, that would work too.”

“GOJO?!” Oop- you were awake now. You ripped your hand from his, scrambling to get away from him. So you were going to play hard to get. “What are you doing in my home?!” You demanded. He tried to push back his annoyance. 

“Darling girl, this isn’t your home.” He gently reminded you, “Your home is all the way on the other side of town, with me.”

“Oh, fuck That!” You yelled, grabbing your bedside table lamp, a heavy porcelain antique, and smashing it across his head. To your credit, if he wasn’t a supernatural being- that would have really fucking hurt. If he didn’t know you were just playing, he would have thought you were actually trying to injure him! But, even if you were just playing, he couldn’t let violence slide. 

“Now now baby girl, Is that anyway to treat your lover?” He asked, pulling you into his arms with a speed that you quite frankly could not comprehend. His grip was impossibly strong too, not only rendering escape out of the question, but making it hard to breathe. You could feel bruises forming where is fingertips met your flesh, and bile rise in your throat. 

“I’m not your fucking lover Gojo-”

“Darling, please it’s Satoru to you.”

“You’re fucking crazy!” You snapped, trying to wiggle out of his grip, despite the futility of it. 

“Crazy for you Babygirl.” Oh great, not only was he out of his fucking mind, he was going to be cheesy about it too. 

“Let me go!” You demanded, trying to thrash but only managing to squirm. You tried kicking him, but it was about as affective as performing CPR on a corpse.

“I will, as soon as we get home.” He “assured” you. It was then you realized he was leading you to your open window. Oh no. Oh no no no no no! Was he going to fucking kill you?! Was home the afterlife?!

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You screamed, clawing as his arms and struggling against him in any way you could, “Gojo-”

“Satoru.” He was starting to lose his patience with your insistence of using his family name. 

“Motherfucker, we are on The. Fifth. Floor. You’re gonna kill us!”  Ohhhh riiight, You were human! You had never flown before! Of course you were freaking out, the first flight is always a little scary. He reminded himself he needed to be more sympathetic with you while you were adjusting, and mentally berated himself for forgetting in the first place.

“Don’t worry darling,” He said, sitting on the ledge and holding you even tighter to his chest- if that was possible, “I won’t let you fall.” He said before promptly falling back first out of the window. You don’t know what was louder, the sound of the wind rushing past your ears, or the screams ripping from your throat.

And then the wind got softer, as if you weren’t falling but-...You looked up to confirm your suspicion. Gojo was holding you on his chest as coasted through the air, looking as relaxed as he would if he was on an inner-tube on a sleepy lake. You suddenly understood what was happening.

“Oh, I’m dreaming!” You all but laughed at the realization.

“It is a dream come true, huh?” He smiled, “I thought we might share dreams.” You rolled your eyes at him, but noticeably relaxed. If you were dreaming, that meant there was no danger. You weren’t flying through the air with a sociopath that was trying to kidnap you, no. You were at home, safe in your bed. In the morning, you would throw away the expired clove in your pantry, and watch The Lost Boys as this fucked up dream slowly seeped out of your mind. All would be well.

That was the thought you were clinging onto as he landed in the lawn of an old southern gothic mansion on the edge of town. You were familiar with this property. The kids spread rumors of it being haunted, overrun with ghouls and ghosts and all things that go bump in the night. Most of them wouldn’t go up to it’s front door, even on Halloween night, with the promise of candy hanging in the air. They believed that once you knocked on the door, your days were numbered. Even the adults spoke about it in hushed whispers, sharing conspiracy theories about who the home owner could possibly be, and why no one ever saw them. Many assumed it was abandoned. 

And now that you were in the front lawn, you understood where all the fear came from. The house was overwhelming, a dark aurora clinging to it and a sense of dread radiating off of it. But, you were dreaming! You couldn’t be hurt! You let Gojo lead you into the front door with zero fear, knowing that you were impervious to danger at the moment. 

Inside you were greeted with a surprisingly warm interior. The outside seemed more like a defense mechanism now, like a bug that disguises itself as a much deadlier creature, when in reality the bug was harmless. Antique table lamps bathed the room in warm light, The red vintage wallpaper making the old black furniture look inviting. The class and elegance of the home put you even more at ease. Leaving you vulnerable. 

You didn’t even notice the amount of locks he was locking behind you, or the fact that some of them required a code. “Welcome home darling,” He said as he finally finished securing the million latches, returning and wrapping his arms around your waist, “What do you think?” He purred.

“It’s…cozy.” You said. It was, in it’s own weird way. “I always wondered what the inside of this house looked like.” 

“Well, it’s yours now, so feel free to make any changes you want.” He smiled, kissing your forehead. You felt a chill as his cold lips pressed against your skin. Your brain may have known it was dreaming, but your body didn’t. You still felt shaky, your heart was still racing, and your palms were still clammy. Your body was in super-hyper-defense mode. Which, was to say you felt like you were seconds away from a panic attack. He must have noticed the blood draining from your face.

“It’s late darling. The grand tour can wait, let me show you to our room.” Oh, good idea. If you slept, you could wake up in your bed and get this dream over with. You nodded and let him lead you up the ornate, spiral staircase, and down the hall to the master bedroom. An absolutely massive room that matched the living area, only instead of red it was a powder blue, A truly extravagant bed was the center piece of the room, a large canopy hanging over it. You noticed there were no windows in the room. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen any windows at all, other than in the living room. And even still, they were boarded up.

“Thanks for the room, I uh…I think I’m going to go to sleep. You can go now.” You told him. His laugh sent a blizzard through your body.

“Go now?” He cackled, “Darling, this is my room too.” He said gently, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. “We share everything…” He leaned down and pressed his nose into the juncture of your neck, taking a deep breath and getting lost in your scent. He felt you try to push him away, but you would have had an easier time trying to push Mount Fuji over. 

“Gojo, I-”

“Satoru.” He growled, “For the last time. My name, is Satoru.” He very gently reminded you, gripping you tighter and digging his long black claws into your side. You gasped from the pain, feeling drops of blood leak from you new would. You felt the pain. You felt pain.

You weren’t dreaming. You weren’t dreaming.

 You felt a sharp icy chill rip though you as he dragged his cold, slimy tongue along your neck. “You smell so decadent my love.” He praised. You lost your words as you felt him run his hands under your sleep shirt and up your bare skin. His chilled fingers left frigid trails along your body, reminding you of where he had touched- where he had violated. Your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your throat, and your stomach turned as he pressed your hips into his, making it painfully clear just how happy he was to have you here. 

He could smell your blood leaking from your side and it was clouding every other thought he had. He hadn’t fed in weeks. No one else was worth it, no one smelled nearly as appetizing as you. Every other disgusting mortal tasted rotten to him now, and no matter who he chased they were never you. They may have had your skin color, or your eye color, but none of them could hold a candle to you.

But he had you here now. His darling, his world. His perfect meal. And he was fucking starving. “I bet you taste as good as you smell.” He purred, dragging his fangs across the thin skin on your neck.

“N-no, don’t-!” Your words turned into a scream as he dug his fangs into your flesh, your scream dying in your throat as he bit down. You felt his sharp fangs pierce into you, opening up your veins and letting the blood flow freely for him. You felt his cold tongue collecting the very crimson that give you life, greedily feeding on you as if you were the finest meal he had ever had.

Probably because you were. The flavor of fresh apples and salted caramel spreading in his mouth and through his being, making his cold body buzz with your warmth. You tasted better than he had ever imagined. He roughly grabbed your hair, tangling his claws in it as he pulled your head to the side, giving him more room to feast. It restarted your nervous system. You found your will to fight again, thrashing in his grip and trying even harder to push him away. He growled at your sudden insolence, forcing himself away from your throat.

He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look in his eyes. “Why do you insist on fighting me, Love?” He groaned. You realized he wasn’t wearing his normal glasses, and his eyes were still as red as the blood currently flowing through you. Fuck, how could you have been so blind? You tried to break away from his grip again.

“Because you’re a fucking monster!” You snapped. Well that was harsh. He didn’t want to do this so early on in your living with him, but really you left him with no choice. “Let me go!” You demanded again.

“Why would I do that?” He asked, his eyes burning into your very soul. “You want to be here.” You watched as his eyes changed. Red irises now ringed with violet, then gold, then violet again. It was so…mesmerizing.

“No I-...” Your words fell from your lips, and you couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. You could feel your brain filling with fog, the edges of your vision becoming a vignette. Slowly you could feel the ice he filled you with melting from your body, leaving you feeling something much warmer instead.

“Yes you do. You’re my girl, of course you want to be here with me.” He purred, a soft smile looking so misplaced on his bloodstained face. “You do want to be with me, don’t you Y/n?”

“I do.” N-no. No that's not what you meant to say. What the hell?

“Then why are you trying to fight me?” Because he’s a fucking creep that stole you out of your bed and was now practicing the ancient art of BLOODLETTING on you!

“I don’t know.” No! Why weren’t your words matching your thoughts?! Why couldn’t you say what you meant!?

“If you don’t know Darling, then there's no point to it. I don’t want to hurt you my love, please don’t force my hand.” he sighed, cupping your cheek in his palm. You wanted to jerk away, but you felt your body lean into his cool touch. It felt nice against your warm cheek.

“I’m sorry.” You absolutely were not sorry.

“It’s okay Beautiful. I know how you can make it up to me.” His grin was wicked with ill intent as he returned to your neck, licking at the blood flowing there. You could feel your body temperature continue to rise, what was once almost pleasant slowly becoming unbearable. You whined softly at the unpleasantness of the heat.

“You’re warm,” He noted, running his cold hand along your side. The ice he held wasn’t unwelcome anymore. Now it felt like the cool waves of the ocean on a hot summer day. You felt you head nod limply at his obvious observation. Of course you were warm, you were on fire. 

“Let me help.” He whispered, pulling your shirt over your head. You’d think being exposed to the cool air in this drafty mansion would have helped your situation, but you felt no change. You didn’t feel a change when he slipped your bottoms off either, and you almost whined when he pushed you onto the bed, the fluffy fabric of the blanket making everything worse. 

And then his lips were on yours, like the first chill breeze after a heat wave. More, more, you needed more. Your hands fumbled with his shirt buttons, struggling with numb fingers to fit the brass through the holes. Finally, after undoing three, you gave up and ripped the shirt off over his head- possible ripped fabric be damned. 

“I knew you wanted me darling,” He grinned, your eagerness to have him undressed fueling his undeserved sense of confidence. You didn’t care though, because his skin was finally on yours. His chest pressed against yours, you finally felt some sense of relief, like putting aloe on a bad sunburn. You moaned softly as he trailed kisses from your jaw to the wound on your neck, still bleeding but much slower now. He gently sucked on the dripping injury, and instead of pain, you felt euphoria. You moaned softly, pressing your thighs together to try and relieve some of the building pressure.

He gave you a tight lip smile, red covering his lower face, as he moved down on you, spreading your legs. His grin grew once he saw what you were working with. He knew it would be pretty, he had imagined it more than a few times while fucking his hand- chasing a high he knew only you could give him. But honestly, he didn’t think it would be that pretty. You noticed his lack of commentary just in time to find out why he was keeping his mouth shut.

He leaned down and spit your own blood out and onto your cunt, making an already pretty pussy prettier. You were embarrassed to say you moaned, but the blood chilled by his mouth felt do fucking good on your burning body. 

“God, you’re a freak.” He laughed, showing blood stained teeth. “Yet another thing we have in common.” He cooed as he massaged the sangria into your clit, sending waves of euphoria through your body. His hand moved down, slowing tracing your entrance before slipping a long finger inside, quickly followed by a second. 

“Oh, fuck!” You gasped as he curled his fingers up inside of you, gracing your g-spot with an expert precision. You felt your hips buck up against your will, reacting to him in ways that would have made you nauseous in any other state. 

“You like that Darling?” He asked with a smirk, curling his fingers again and again. You whined softly, chasing the chill of his touch. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” You grumbled. You wanted to tell him no. You wanted to tell him to fuck off and stop touching you, but at the same time that was the last thing you wanted him to do. It felt like his touch was the only thing that could regulate your body, not to mention the fact that it just felt so fucking good. 

You were sure whatever he did to you was causing this heat, but you had also never been this sensitive before. His every movement sent waves of electricity through your nervous system. Your body craved him in way it had craved no one else before, responding to him like it was made for him. You felt a cool pool of pleasure forming in your stomach, your body buzzing with desire and anticipation.

He bit his lip as he felt you clench around his fingers, and immediately he had to feel that clench around his dick. He pulled his hand away, placing his two fingers in his mouth and sucking them clean, eyes rolling back at the sweet taste. You whined at the loss of contact, hips bucking in search of the pleasure they were robbed of. You wanted to cry, the frustration of a lost climax clouding your already cloudy brain. “Noooo!” Was all you could manage to say, and god did you sound pathetic saying it.

“Don’t worry Darling girl,” Satoru chuckled as he pulled out his cock, “I got something even better for you.” You watched as he pumped his dick, the angry red tip looking so much redder against his pale skin. He rubbed his hand over the leaking tip, using the fluid there to slick himself up. You wouldn’t say this about a lot of guys, but you thought even your normal brain would be able to admit he had a pretty dick.

A pretty dick he was about to shove into your soaking cunt. You bit your lip in anticipation as he lifted your hips up to meet his. “Ready pretty girl?” He purred. You nodded an aggressive affirmative and he almost laughed. “No no Beautiful, with your words. Tell me you want me.”

“I want you!” You whined, hearing your voice but not your words again, “I want you so bad, please. Please I need you, I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk anymore, until I can’t think straight, I want to be ruined for anyone else, please!”

“Atta girl,” He praised, finally pushing into your needy cunt. He shuddered as he did, your warm velvety walls enveloping him and pulling him deeper than he realized possible. He almost came right then and there, like an untouched virgin, but managed to contain himself. Your moans weren’t doing him any favors, but you couldn't help it. He felt like a snowstorm inside the inferno that was your body, controlling the fire that raged there and finally giving you some relief. The stretch stinging at you was just an added bonus.

“You feel so fucking good Darling,” He praised, pulling back and slowly pushing himself back in, perfectly rubbing against your g-spot. You curved your back in pleasure, electric waves of euphoria crashing into your body, and quickly dragging you back to the edge. 

“It’s like you were made for me,” He cooed, “My perfect meal, my perfect fuck toy, you were designed to be mine.” He moaned, tangling his fingers into yours as he looked you in the eyes, painting a scene of what he thought intimacy looked like.

“Fuck, you feel so good Satoru..” You moaned, cunt fluttering around him as your climax quickly approached. Something in his brain switched. Before you fully understood what was happening, you were folded into a mating press, his cock reaching places inside of you you weren’t even sure were possible to reach. Your veins felt like they were full of smoke and your entire body felt like it was made of stars, ecstasy exploding inside you every time he moved. 

“Say it again.” He demanded.

“Satoru!” You yelped, honestly a little pissed off he expected you to talk now.

“Again.” He demanded, pumping into you with a vengeance.

“Satrou!” You whined, digging your nails into the pale flesh of his back, dragging your nails and leaving angry red claw marks in your wake. 

“Who do you belong to Y/n?” He asked, eyes burning into your again. You knew the answer he wanted. You clenched your teeth and sucked on your tongue. You used any willpower you had left not to say it. He may have taken your body, but you couldn’t let him take you. 

“Come on Darling, answer me. Who do you belong to?” He prompted again, this time coupled with the perfect thrust of his hips, lining up perfectly with your sweet spot, and using a free hand to rub your clit. The wave of lust and pleasure that overtook you washed away any willpower you may have had left.

“You, Satoru.” You whined, feeling tears prick at your eyes.

“That’s right darling,” He grinned wickedly as he licked at your neck wound, letting the blood flow over his tongue. “You’re fucking mine.” He started pounding into you with a vengeance, and you felt the strings in your stomach start to snap. Your entire body tensed up vision went white hot as galaxies exploded inside your veins, euphoria crashing into your body in seismic waves, making your cunt quiver from the after shocks. Your head felt like it was filled with cotton and you could feel your thighs trembling around him as you struggled to catch your breath.

“Satoru I-” You tried to communicate but couldn’t get the words, your already altered brain turning to much and leaking out of your ears as he fucked you through your high. His was close, he wouldn’t be far behind. The way that your cunt fluttered around his cock mixed with the pretty sounds you were making were frying his own nervous system, and all he could think about was how pretty you’d look with his cum dripping down your thighs. 

“Y/n,” He panted as he pounded into you. Your eyes met his. You lifted a shaky hand to push his snowy hair out of his face and he was done for. The small intimate act leaving him gushing deep inside you to the point of overflow. “Fuck I love you,” He moaned as he fucked you through his high, “I Love You, I love you so fucking much.”

He all but collapsed on top of you as he finally finished, pulling you into his cold chest. Your body temperature finally felt normal again, and you could feel the effects of his hypnosis slowly wearing off. He noticed too, and kissed away the tears that slipped down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry Darling, did I overwhelm you?” He asked, genuine concern filling his voice. You wanted to scoff at the question, but choose to keep quiet instead. You were locked in his house. You had to play his games now to stay alive. He took your silence to be an affirmative.

“I’m sorry Darling. You don’t have to say it back yet, it’s okay. I know you love me.” He smiled, your blood still staining his fangs and making you sick. He finally pulled out, and you hated the empty feeling that followed. “Come on, let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?”

[annabelle--cane]

I got into tma in 2022 on a road trip with no internet and then only tangentially interacted with the fandom (light hcs, fanart) and I am. so compelled to understand what the fandom was like in 2020. what were the takes. why was it so awful. does it explain why every time I try to look into protocol I get a rancid Vibe and jump back 5 feet.

to preface: on scale, it really wasn't any worse than your average fandom, it just A) got Very popular over a short period and B) that period was during a time of particularly high stress where many people suddenly could only experience a social life online. tma is also a fairly political and progressive work, which inevitably leads to certain kinds of Takes. it also got Very popular right at the point where the episodes were reaching their peak of explicit social commentary and sustained morbid tone, which, especially combined with point B from above, drew out some really visceral reactions from a lot of people. nothing was actually inherently rancid about 2020-2021 tma fandom, there was just a bit of a perfect storm of factors.

having said that. some common discourse themes:

the perennial shipping discourse. georgie is the only one of our leads to have never killed a person, but really, I pinky promise that your ship between two unrepentant serial killers is 100x more problematic than my ship between two unrepentant serial killers.

asexuality: how dangerous is it? on a scale of 1-5, with 1 being "mostly" to 5 being "completely," how humiliating is it to be asexual? what is the singular true asexual experience that is unproblematic to write about?

wow, jonny was so out of line for writing this episode, what gives him the right to--oh he said it's directly based on personal experiences? so sorry, my bad, I'll learn for next time. wow, jonny was so out of line for writing this epi--

I did not like this episode. this is obviously a direct act of violence against me. why would an episode be Not Good when there is, in the world, Sadness?

hello, I have sorted all of the characters into a simple chart that clearly delineates which of them are completely irredeemable monsters with no interiority or motives and which of them are perfect angel victims who have only ever been nice and never hurt anyone, ever (and if they did hurt someone then that person deserved it). if I see you adding nuance to any of my rulings, I will kill you. this also extends to the podcast writers. #ilovebinaries.

the characters... are queer... and maybe even other marginalized identities as well... and yet, they do bad things? there's not even a single completely morally innocent character? by god, did they not think about the implications this might have!

web!martin. lol people are so stupid for thinking that the theory is at all plausible, media comprehension much? that would lichrally imply that a queer, poor, mentally ill character might be capable of badness. what do you mean we are currently listening to an arc where he's an accomplice to serial murder.

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 14.

Summary: Our second look through Oliver's eyes as he thinks back on the night he and Felix get champagne drunk on the bridge, and then when he gets to Saltburn. Looking around both Y/N and Felix's rooms, he gets to know more about them, and finally he meets the Catton Family.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: suggestive themes, reader is said/implied to be high for some of the chapter (based on my experiences & understanding of weed)

A/N: 8506 words. you have all deserved a good feed and i am here to provide. sorry it's been a week, the dam broke, things are looking good in my personal life which is nice, and i am BACK on main fic nonsense. we get another Ollie POV, please let me know what you think, im so excited to have everyone at the estate and hanging out!! got big plans going forward!! excited to be setting it all up!! yeah please feedback, my darling friends!!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Sometimes Oliver feels like he was put on this Earth solely to exist in Felix Catton's affectionate gaze. Everything else in life is just filler.

That night on the bridge, he and Felix in suits, drunk on champagne and bathed in the twilight of the evening, will haunt him, he's sure. He welcomes it with open arms, surfacing when his mind is idle and elsewhere. Felix smiling at him, Felix trying to bring him closure even if he doesn't really need it, Felix hanging on his every word, ever story he would fabricate to keep Felix's eyes fixed on him and only him. Felix so close, Felix with his arm around Ollie, Felix's thigh pressed up against his as they sat alone on the edge of the bridge.

Felix, Felix, Felix.

Oliver feels dwarfed by him, never more so than these moments where Felix insists on occupying Oliver's personal space, and then some. But he'll never complain; Felix's affection is intoxicating, addicting even. To be so wrapped up in it, in him, it's bliss, though Oliver never wanted to seem needy for such affection, that's why he waits for these moments, for Felix to make first contact. He wonders if Felix had realised the way you so quickly had in the beginning.

Everyone reaches out for Felix, everyone else appears so desperate. Its why Oliver's always held back from touching him, always waited and let Felix make the first move. Felix was made to be wanted, he basks in it; Oliver gives him the chance to want. Isn't there a thrill in that? A novelty?

And to be wanted by Felix... That was a gift in itself too.

Oliver had, admittedly, been worried that he'd lost his chance at that. After sleeping with you, Felix holding him at arm's length, he could feel his grip slipping. Plucking at the strings of Felix's clear saviour complex was enough to claw back into his life, but he now knew his place was precarious, and most tentative of all was everything about you.

So he'd held back from you. On purpose. Often distinctly, even when you'd give these confused, disheartened looks. He tried not to look at you in those moments; his focus was Felix, Felix seemed harder won.

But when he'd tried to apologise on the bridge - at first he wasn't going to bring it up, but it was dark and he was reasonably drunk and the only person who's ever smiled like Felix had been smiling at him in that moment had been you - Felix had, at first, laughed him off. No, he can feel it now, weighing on him; he needs to balance the scales. He wants Felix so bad it aches in his bones, but Oliver knows his want goes beyond just the beautiful boy by his side. Every part of you, how you interact with the world, interact with him, the way you exist and exude confidence and love, drew Oliver in like a moth to a flame. If Felix is the hook, you were the line. The bait, and the trap. The sun, and it's warmth. He wants to always be the focus of your loving, attentive gaze. Always wants you to want him too.

Oliver is the helpless fly in the web you and Felix have woven, to be so lovingly obsessed with you both as you are, and yet still drawn further in, to love the love you share. He feels trapped and utterly helpless against his feelings for you both.

So he has to make it right. Has to make it... even? Was that how to make it right?

But Felix is different on the bridge. Different to the jealous creature he tried so clearly to hide in the weeks before. Something had changed.

"You never need to apologise for making them happy," he says easily, affectionately. Oliver tries to be insistent, that he never meant to get between the two of you. He's rambling and tipsy, but not enough to miss the faint choked noise of what Oliver could have sworn was intrigue that Felix makes at that, but he knows better than to dwell or comment on it. Instead, Felix claps him on the back; "you wanna make it up to me we can say you owe me one," he says far too easily.

"Owe you one what?" Oliver frowns, playing oblivious for a moment as he takes a sip of the champagne before Felix gives him a cheeky wink and a grin.

"Shag, of course."

Oliver does a spit take with surprise, not having thought Felix would be so casual and genuine about it, almost falling off of the bridge in the moment. Felix catches him, arm around him as he laughs through an apology.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry mate," he wheezes, carefully clapping Ollie on the shoulder, "also I apologise for assuming, poor form, sometimes I forget people can be weird about these things- not saying you'd be weird, we've just never spoken about this kind of thing."

It speaks to how much he must genuinely trust Oliver, considering how light the conversation remains. Or perhaps it's the bubbly. Still, Oliver has a little bit of an inkling about what this kind of thing may be. But part of him needs Felix to say it, to confirm his suspicions, to keep stringing him along with further crumbs of hope.

"Assuming what?"

There's a single moment, the way in which Felix looks at Oliver out of the corner of his eyes, smile briefly frozen on his face as he must be considering the weight of what he's about to say. Its in the moment that follows, when Felix laughs almost self consciously and withdraws his hand that Oliver wonders how out Felix is. Oliver had always just kind of assumed - hoped - on the basis of his relationship with Y/N, but it occurs to him that the general perception of Felix, the talk and rumours and gossip that surrounded him, never really entertained the idea that he was actually queer. Felix's affection towards everyone in his life was simply a by-product of who he was, and you're his best friend - and his cousin, according to Farleigh - so of course you don't count, and otherwise Felix Catton was a known lady's man, right?

Not quite, it seemed.

"That you'd even be into guys like that," it sounds so easy when Felix says it, like Oliver can't see the tension in his shoulders as he reaches over, taking the bottle of champagne back. Its almost empty. Oliver doesn't mind if he finishes it.

Felix looks at the sky, at the stars.

Oliver thinks about the VHS tape of Maurice that he stole from a rental store after looking at the back cover. He'd kept it stashed in his sock drawer and watched every week under the cover of absolute darkness until it literally became unplayable. Yes, Oliver liked guys, and spent his teen years having just as many lewd fantasies about boys with posh accents, and charmingly youthful features, and floppy, brown hair, as he did about girls with big, dark eyes, and high, perfect cheek bones, in bright red wedding dresses. His sisters hated Beetlejuice, thought it was gross, but he and his mother would watch it together on occasion, sharing a blanket his gran had crocheted, and a bowl of popcorn. She'd get all giggly over Alec Baldwin, while Oliver couldn't help but fall for Winona Ryder for the duration of the film, every time.

For a moment, he thinks of the sunlit kitchen he grew up in, and his mother cooking Sunday lunch with a record playing. The last Sunday before he left for Oxford. In the yard, he can hear his father mowing the lawn, and he's sure Emily is in her room packing for her own journey back to her third year of studying. But Oliver comes out of his room just as Jump in Line (Shake Senora) begins to play. Serendipity. Already excited by the song, his mother looks up from the dishes, and practically lights up at the sight of her son. She's going to ask him to dance. He's going to say yes. They're both going to love this moment; she says it's their song, and Oliver dances along to their song. When it's over, Oliver won't admit that he's disappointed it had to end, but he tells his mother he'll miss her too when she hugs him especially tightly. For that one moment he hadn't ached to leave the way he'd been for months, for years.

Looking now at the rock in the rubbish that represented his father, there's a momentary pang of guilt for lying so dramatically about him he hadn't been expecting. So he pushes it out of his mind.

Felix finishes the bottle, and Oliver watches him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Effortlessly beauty.

Oliver wants to focus on his future, not his past.

"Haven't got too much experience with 'em, but that doesn't stop me from liking them well enough," feeling especially bold, he levels a sly smile at Felix, "so if it's all good with you, maybe we do say I owe you one."

Felix blushes the most beautiful scarlet as he barks a loud, pleased laugh. But most importantly, he relaxes.

"It's not that hard," he offers so nonchalantly, amending with a sheepish grin, "well it is, that's part of the point -" but Oliver can't help himself.

"I said I didn't have a lot of experience, didn't say I was completely inexperienced."

"No, I know," Felix's voice turns all smug and teasing, and Oliver can feel his face beginning to heat up as he realised the implications of Felix's tone, "I've heard rave reviews." Oliver had taken the time to have his fun, to have a few hook ups here and there in the past year, usually with girls or guys from town or other campuses who had no idea who he was otherwise. There's only one person who'd be giving him rave reviews, as Felix had called them.

Huh. It's quite the compliment; he had gone out of his way to give you the kind of attention he suspected few people ever bestowed upon you, but rave reviews? What had you actually told Felix?

Instead, considering that this still feels like potentially rocky territory, he tries to bring it back.

"It's one of the few ways I ever really learned how to make people feel appreciated," his gaze drops with his tone, and hopes that Felix takes the bait. The threads that tie back to the story of his unfortunate upbringing, but also perhaps the threads that subconsciously tie his attitude and behaviour to you in Felix's mind. Even if you don't say it, he knows it's part of how you operate, and he's willing to bet that Felix had picked up on that too.

It works. Felix wraps an arm around him, assuring him that he has so much to offer the world. God, he sounds so sincere when he says it; if Oliver hadn't knowingly baited him into the compliment, he would have believed him entirely. At the very least he basks in how good it is to hear Felix say.

They talk through the night, Oliver tentatively feeling his way towards his goal, the opportunity to spend Summer with Felix too, to make sure this connection doesn't wither in the interim. Of course he plays at being humble, at refusing the offer despite how clearly uninhabitable the sob story home he'd made up for himself was, but just as he'd predicted, Felix, ever the saviour, refuses to take no for an answer. Apparently his mother has people stay for months at a time anyhow. Oliver wonders idly if that's where Felix got it from.

"Y/N will be so pleased, I can tell you that," Felix mentioned with fondness. Of course Oliver had anticipated that you would probably be spending at least some of your Summer with them, but he's surprised that when he enquires further, Felix admits, "yeah they live with me at Saltburn when we're not at school, have for ages now."

"What, all the time? They really are a ward of the Saltburn Estate?"

Felix wears a strange little smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes; there's an unfamiliar kind of melancholy that doesn't look quite right on him, Oliver thinks, as Felix shrugs again.

"Some people's parents just aren't meant to be parents."

For a split second Oliver feels a rush of guilt as he comes to realise he may have fabricated a life for himself that you had actually lived. In the moment, however, he dips his head, a sign that he understands, that he agrees.

"Then we're lucky to have you."

Felix throws an arm around his shoulders, pulls him in tightly and presses a kiss to the side of his head, assuring him it's no trouble at all.

"What are friends for?"

Yes, this moment would be burned into his brain; Felix so warm beside him, Felix smiling against his temple, Felix champagne drunk and willing to share his life, if only for six weeks. Every fibre of Oliver's being is willing it to work out, willing it to be more than just these six weeks -

Felix, Felix, Felix.

Except the minute he knocks on the doors of the house that looms so large he feels like he's about to be swallowed whole by it, he feels like he's failed a test. The look in the terrifying doorman's eyes, his tone of voice, the unflinching scrutiny when faced with Oliver's continual awkwardness and questions, makes him feel like he's failed several more in rapid succession.

Oliver's actually pretty sure he's never been quite so glad to see Felix as the exact moment he calls out to Oliver with absolute joy. Which is saying something. It's never felt like Felix is judging him, at least not in a way he can't pass. Thank fuck. Felix, in this moment, is the only one who matters, he tells himself.

That being said, Oliver had been expecting you to be by Felix's side when he'd come bounding in to save him from Duncan's scrutiny. That's generally where he's come to expect you. Not that he wasn't grateful for Felix giving the tour, it was just... unexpected.

Honestly, when you appear from a door on the other side of the long gallery, opposite Felix's bedroom, Oliver's surprised by how relieved he is to see you. The room you've exited seems to be themed in pale purple from the brief glimpse Oliver sees, and you've got a leather bound folder in your arms, but neither of those is nearly so interesting as the look in your eyes. Looking back, Oliver sees Felix lounging in his doorframe, looking between you both with patient amusement.

"Ollie!"

Oliver's pretty sure no-one in his life has ever sounded this excited to see him. The only person who comes closes would be Felix, five minutes ago.

"Ollie, oh Ollie - Fi, hold this," you pass off your folder to Felix, who of course takes it without argument, before Oliver's swept up in a tight hug, "you're early, you smell nice," you hug him so enthusiastically the two of you spin for a moment, before pulling back, holding him at arm's length like you're assessing the state of him. Instead, you beam, holding his hands as you turned to Felix, "Fi, Ollie's here! We love Ollie!"

This time when you meet Oliver's gaze, he's surprised to see not just love, but want. You'd worn that look in the weeks before the two of you had fucked, like all you could think about was how you'd once begged him to want you, and how he of course admitted he did. When had he started missing this look in your eyes? All he can think about is that night in the warmth of your bed, the way you'd sounded so fucking certain and needy - of course I want you - and how he can see it in your eyes again now. For a moment his mind and resolve is fuzzy; why had he ever stopped reaching out for you?

"We do love Ollie," Felix agreed with further amusement, and that's when he remembers. Except... this isn't the jealous version of Felix that had shown up in the aftermath. This was the Felix who'd brushed off Oliver's apologies about the whole ordeal on the bridge and proceeded to overtly, if jokingly, flirt with him. Already he feels just a touch more relaxed in this new dynamic that was being set up for the Summer.

Actually, Oliver, for just a second, thinks he may have died and gone to heaven.

"Fuck, Ollie, look at your nails," he hears next, however, and it immediately shatters the illusion as he pulls his hands away from you and your judgemental eyes.

"Don't be mean," Felix chides, and you look up with surprised, as if you hadn't realised your own less than complimentary tone. Looking between Oliver and Felix, there's apology in your eyes.

"Sorry Ollie," you're quick to offer, and he awkwardly tries to act like he's not embarrassed, "I'll give you a manicure, I can paint your nails; we can match!" You smiled brightly, hands pressed flat and warm to his chest all of a sudden, "I match Fi's shirt today; Farleigh painted my nails -" your eyes go wide as if you'd just remembered; "Farleigh; shit."

You run for the door to the blue room. Oliver, deeply confused, watches you go. Then, he hears Felix sigh with fond exasperation, holding out the leather folder. A moment later you burst through the door again.

"Documents. Shit. Thanks, Fi!"

And you're off again.

"Is this... how they normally are just at Saltburn?" Oliver finally asks with faint concern, looking from the door to Felix in the darkened doorframe.

"My lovely cousin is an atrocious influence on our dear Y/N," Felix said with incredible diplomacy. But Oliver's mind momentarily catches on the wording.

Our Y/N.

Just like before, a strange thrill, a rush; he remembers the look in your eyes when he'd first said 'Our Felix' to you. An exclusive kind of possessive, one you'd willingly share with Oliver. He liked this dynamic, he wondered how hard he'd have to push it to get beyond the simple semantics.

We love Ollie!

We do love Ollie.

Perhaps it wouldn't be too difficult at all.

"What do you mean?" He asks instead, and Felix turns to him with that same amused smile.

"They're fine, don't worry mate, they're just high is all," clearly Felix's feelings are mixed on the subject; Oliver knows he has no problems with getting high himself, so he suspects Felix cares more about Oliver's first impressions of his home and his family than he was wanting to let on. You were his right hand after all. There's something endearing about how much he seems to want Oliver to want to be here. Which he does, for the record.

"So this is your room?" Oliver enquires, shooting for brightness, despite the momentary awkwardness. He watches the tension leave Felix's shoulders. It's enough for Oliver, and his gaze drifts, roams around and tries to catalogue every single piece of Felix he can glean from the clutter. Even with an army of servants there's something unkempt about how he decorates the otherwise old and ornate space. CDs he'll spend time poring over, stacks of books, and trinkets, and tchotchkes. Felix even has a balcony; stone railings and enough decorative chairs, and even a lounge and small table, for company.

Here and there in the room itself, however, a few things seem out of place; shoes that didn't look like Felix's sitting neatly by the door, two dressing gowns, one maroon and tossed over the bed, the other in navy and draped more deliberately over the end of the bed. Two glasses of water, one on either side of the bed. Tell-tale signs that clue Oliver in before Felix even confirms it -

"Mine and Y/N's, yeah," he says it so easily, so nonchalantly, no bothering with pretence here at Saltburn, "you'll be staying just next door," Felix continues on with a wide, easy smile over his shoulder as he continued to flit through the rooms, catching light, voice echoing amongst the decorative walls.

"Bathroom," he offers, before turning, adding, "we're going to be sharing a bathroom, by the way, I hope you don't mind," and Oliver finds himself drawn to the sight of the ornate bath, as if on purposeful display in the middle of the room, "otherwise you'd be miles away on the other end of the house," Felix explains, continuing on without even considering his words as he says them. No, of course Oliver didn't mind.

All Oliver can think of is everything that simple sentence implied. Closeness. Implicit want. A sudden flash in Oliver's mind as Felix continues through to the dressing room, of sweat beading along skin and hands clutching desperately at the cool, porcelain edge of the tub, of water sloshing and spilling and overflowing, and the sound of breathless moaning -

He tries to focus, tries to simply watch Felix's hands as he taps idly on the red walls of the dressing room as he lead into what Oliver can only assume to be his room. He stays out of his head, leans into the moment, and lets himself relax as Felix gestures broadly, brightly, grinning from ear to ear.

"Your room!"

It's bright, all wide, open windows looking over the beautiful grounds of Saltburn, honey coloured wood and lamps that glow in such a way that he was reminded of Oxford. Already someone's brought his suitcase up, set it out at the end of the bed; he'd get to unpacking that later tonight, for now he took his time relaxing into the space. Felix had already sat himself down, seemingly at home in the old, wooden rocking chair, watching Oliver, almost like he was trying to hide his nervous anticipation.

"I'm really glad you're here, mate," for just a moment, Felix sounds more honest than he'd been since Oliver had arrived. There's something in his eyes that Oliver hadn't been anticipating, in the brief moment in which their gazes meet. There's a kind of arrogance, Oliver thinks, to calling even a sliver of it something like love, but it's adoration and appreciation nonetheless. It's gone in a flash, too brief to be anything serious, he thinks once more as Felix stands, "right, I will, er... I'll leave you to it."

And Oliver is quiet. It's a kind of reverence, or perhaps it reads like shock and awe at the whole place, but he listens quietly as Felix tells him about his mother's aversion to stubble and ugliness and piercings and -

"Anything else I should know about?" Finally he asks, sensing Felix was close to rambling on a nervous tangent. Thankfully, Felix actually seems relieved by the interruption, assuring him that there was nothing else to worry about.

Felix tells Oliver that he just needs to be himself, that his family will love him. That it's relaxed. Oliver loves Felix dearly, but doubts he, a man who rarely seems to be anything but relaxed, would be the best judge of that. Especially in a place like this. Still, Oliver smiles like he believes him, and watches the way Felix hangs himself back from the door on his heels, almost like a little kid, telling Oliver that his family will be in the library when he's ready.

Library?

His mental image of Saltburn grows with each moment. Soon it will overwhelm him, he's sure.

So he tries, just for the moment, to get acquainted with the room he's been given. His own, honey-coloured piece of Saltburn, if only for the Summer. Hopefully beyond, that dreamy little voice of want whispers in the back of his mind. Another flash of desire runs through him, the image of a quiet evening on Felix's balcony, a purple sky and a glass of scotch, book in one hand and Felix's head in his lap. He'd be too big for the little sofa, legs hanging off the edge, but he's comfortably fallen asleep with Oliver's fingers carding through his hair; when you drape yourself over Oliver's shoulders, there's loving affection in the way you call them 'your boys' -

God he'd been entertaining these fantasies for months, sure, almost since he'd met you and Felix, but never this vivid, never so detailed or hard to push away, to pretend like he'd never had them when he next tries to look you both in the eyes.

Yeah, me and Y/N's room. You're right next door. We'll be sharing a bathroom.

This is either going to be a dream, or the hardest Summer of his life. Pun entirely intended.

The room itself is rather charming, once Oliver finally breaks free of his own fantasies. Charming in a different way to the rest of the house, but in a way that was hard to put his finger on at first. Saltburn was like if a place could put on a performance of itself, none of it felt lived in, or at least, not for a very long time. Except Felix's room, it had his youth and carelessness that gave it a feeling of home, as, for some reason, did Oliver's.

Except then he sees them. Then he understands. There's space stickers on the top drawer of what he can only assume is the otherwise expensive bedside table. Some are peeled off, some even leaving the ugly, half-peeled, paper residue of planets and stars and little cartoon astronauts. The second of the two drawers is in much the same state, but depicting a faded sea creature theme. It's so unexpectedly, joyfully childish. There's two books in the top drawer, a collection of Edgar Allen Poe's short stories, and a copy of Emma. Oliver swallows hard, trying not to wonder what you must mean by that. Otherwise the drawers are empty, almost hotel-like in it's severe starkness.

There's other little things, however. Fairy lights curled up and around the headboard that glow a comforting, warm white once he finds their switch. A digital clock at odds with the rest of the room's aesthetics, red numbers glowing in the afternoon light. The painting on the wall above the bookshelf that looks far more modern than anything else he'd seen so far on the walls, a rich, blue night sky glittering with stars, and a dreamy silhouette of a figure with a cigarette almost glowing orange against the darkness. Despite the vagueness of the figure, there's a comfort, a kind of love with which they'd been captured that Oliver can somehow feel in his chest when he looks at it.

The little bookshelf itself in the corner is filled with titles he can imagine you specifically enjoying, but a few anomalies here and there - books on botany and Edwardian flower code stick out in particular. It's completed with a small stack of CDs and a CD player gathering dust on top. When he crouches down, however, he's surprised to see an old, portable cassette deck taking up space on the bottom row of the bookshelf, mostly hidden behind several stacks of what appeared to be blank cassette tapes, crammed into the very corner, almost out of sight.

How strange. How... human.

There is an echo of someone else in this room, but to his relief, it feels like you. For the barest moment, he almost feels like he's already home.

It's a short-lived feeling, however, as Felix's words come back to him once more. His reflection in the bathroom mirror as he carefully rids himself of even the barest traces of stubble, doesn't meet the standards he's sure the mother of Felix Catton must hold.

Oliver's never considered himself particularly beautiful, nor did pretty much anyone else, it had always seemed. His mother was of course biased, Felix was filled with too much affection to be considered anywhere near reliable about that sort of things, and you - something inside Oliver squirms almost with embarrassment for even thinking so poorly of himself in the past few moments. Maybe a face like his would make Felix's mum happy, if the look in your eyes meant anything, every time you saw him.

Oliver chooses to leave the way he was brought in, taking a long few moments in Felix's room, leaving it untouched, undisturbed, but treating it like a museum to his best friend, clues about his life he couldn't glean from conversation alone. Felix's bookshelves were bigger than yours, stacked with comics amid countless fantasy and adventure books, but a surprising number of cowboy and western titles, though it's not as if there appears to be any kind of sorting system. There's a ceramic bowl that looks hand made, full of faded wristbands for events all over the world for the past five years. There's a shoebox that apparently used to hold a pair of lady's runners, now sitting at the end of one row that now has 'A Stupid Box For Feefs Stupid Rocks <3' sharpied on top in handwriting he doesn't recognise. A thick textbook about space on the bottom shelf with a cracked, worn spine and sticky tabs seeming to note various pages, various guitar tab books for different, popular bands that Felix would definitely be interested in. Four decks of cards stacked on top of each other, boxes looking so worn and used they were practically falling apart.

For a very long time, Oliver finds himself caught, looking at the little cork board full of photos leaning on top of the bookshelf. Countless photos of Felix, Farleigh, Venetia, and Y/N throughout the years. He hadn't realised just how long you and Felix had even known each other. How long you'd practically been a fixture at Saltburn in the Summer. There's a photo of the four of you all in your bathers, laying asleep on the grass beside the lake, all next to each other on brightly coloured towels, none of you could have been older than twelve; you fit right in along with the rest of them.

There's a photo strip, the kind taken in a booth at a mall or a museum, that Oliver thinks he recognises, but it takes him a long moment of staring at it to figure out why. It's you and Felix, and the strip itself says it's from an aquarium. Smiling. Laughing. You blurry, covering your laughter as Felix looks particularly goofy and pleased with himself, as if he'd just told a stupid joke. The last one has been ripped off.

Oh. Right. He'd seen it while snooping through Felix's wallet a few months ago; the photo had been the reason he'd put the wallet back at all. The way the two of you were kissing in the final photo, so wrapped up in each other, and love, and joy, had made Oliver feel almost physically sick with both want and jealousy.

God, he has to leave, has to stop snooping again and actually find this library and the rest of the Cattons.

Walking through Saltburn's many rooms alone makes Oliver feel like he's constantly out of bounds at a museum. There's hints of life throughout the building, but they're few and far between compared to the ornamental, carefully curated decorations of each room. Even the hints of the Cattons themselves seemed... too purposeful. The little, animated 'Catton Family Players' puppet show is the kind of thing only rich, whimsical weirdos could ever think was charming, and not just bizarre, vain, and haunting in the same way that porcelain dolls were.

But then he hears laughter, and warm chatter from down a hall, and the tinny, purposeful shouting from what could only be a movie or TV show. It sounds so much like his own family's living room on a cheerful evening that it's almost relaxing. Almost.

Because as he's approaching, he realises they're talking about him. They're picking apart the life he'd fed Felix as if it were mere gossip, speaking so airily, their sentiment so clearly out of touch that he'd probably find it amusing if he didn't have to pretend to be living it. Briefly, he wonders if they spoke like this about your life, or if the novelty of you had worn off in the years before. Perhaps you were just glad they could focus their pity and unapologetic classicism on someone else for a change; he couldn't hear you in there, which surprised him. Maybe part of him had expected you to defend him the way you had back at Oxford. Maybe you don't feel like you can at Saltburn. At least Felix sounds embarrassed, irritated as he admonishes Farleigh for having told the rest of the family.

Before he enters the library where the rest of the family has gathered, Oliver pauses by the door, both to get a better idea of what they're already thinking about him, but also because he'd spotted someone watching him from one of the adjacent rooms.

Bleach blonde hair, stars clinging to the tights on her legs, she's reading a book that Oliver can't quite see the cover of. Venetia was written on the collar of the little, blonde puppet in the Catton Family Players; Oliver suspects this is her. Oliver thinks she could be considered very beautiful, if she didn't seem quite so sharp. The way she huffs a laugh and wears a dangerously amused smile after she'd taken her own time in analysing him seems to prove as much. That being said, Oliver's not sure if she's laughing at something about him, or about the fact that they can both clearly hear her family's disparaging remarks about his apparent upbringing.

"Farleigh seems to think he's ghastly," Oliver hears a woman say as his hand comes to rest on the door handle, "why are you and our dear pet even friends with him, darling?"

"Dirt poor, not attractive, and his parents are drug addicts," a second woman's voice seems to surmise as Oliver lets himself into the room, "I can't actually -" but Felix makes a noise as he sees the door opening, and the woman goes quiet as Oliver peers in.

"And here he is now," Farleigh sounds as thrilled as he ever was to see Oliver, "we were just talking about you," like he's trying his best to make Oliver feel as unwelcome as possible. It's... kind of working. Bastard. However looking over at him does solve one mystery; you and Farleigh are sharing a sofa at the back of the room that's only just big enough for the both of you as long as you're tucked up against him, his arm slung over the back of the chair behind you.

And you're fast asleep against him.

The blonde woman on the sofa who shares Felix's elegant, effortless beauty admonishes Farleigh, even though Oliver can tell from her voice she was one of the ones very much talking about him only moments before. Oliver has the grace to pretend like he hadn't heard, though is still glad for the vaguely embarrassed, apologetic look Felix is already giving him.

This has to be Felix's mother, the blonde with the airy voice who immediately gets up to greet him, to assess him.

"Oh, what beautiful eyes," oh thank god, "oh, how wonderful!" There's genuine surprise and adoration in the way Felix's mother regards him, and Oliver can't help but feel relieved, like he's finally passed the first of what he's sure will be many tests during his life at the Saltburn estate.

"Yeah, we told you he wasn't a minger," Felix pointed out when his mother turns to him.

"Oh, but darling, you and pet are kind about everyone; neither of you can be trusted about those you're fond of." Pet? Does she mean Y/N? Suddenly Farleigh's comments over the months make a strange amount of sense. At the very least Oliver's heart begins to sing at the idea of you and Felix speaking so kindly of him to the others that they know you're both especially fond of him... And you both seem to think he's beautiful enough that you mention it when he's not around. Huh.

But yes, the moment the woman explains her aborrance of ugliness Oliver knows he's talking to Felix's mother. At least she seems to like him well enough, going so far as to ask if he'd seen Venetia yet, that even she'd been dying to see him, but had chosen to drape herself around the house as if laying in wait for him. Indeed that's how it had seemed when he'd spotted her earlier, but none of them have let Oliver get a word in edgewise.

Felix's father is the next to introduce himself, all long limbs and warm handshake to match his smile, just like his son. When he asks Oliver about his trip to the estate, Oliver finally breathes, can finally respond.

"Oh, God, don't with the 'sirs'," Felix's mother waves him over to sit down, insisting, "no, no, no, we can't stand anything like that here," though her outburst seems to have been enough to rouse you. As Oliver sits, he hears, syrupy and warm with sleep from behind him -

"Ollie!" As you had each time since he's arrived, you sound so genuinely delightful. Farleigh makes a noise in the back of his throat. Oliver turns in time to see you elbow Farleigh in the ribs.

"I liked you better when you were asleep."

"Fars," your voice drops low, like a warning, and Oliver's surprised by how sharply Farleigh looks away, jaw clenching tightly, "be good." Oliver almost thinks Farleigh might be angry, but then he sees the gentle way Farleigh's holding your shoulder, thumb rubbing circles against your upper arm; from what Oliver can see, he realises Farleigh's expression is almost embarrassed -

"Children, stop bickering," Felix's mother orders brightly, and your expression returns to unbothered and chipper as you refocus on Oliver.

"Hi Ollie," again, then as more of an offer to the rest of the room, "isn't he just lovely?" Oliver flushes, but gives you a fond smile, even as you settle back against Farleigh. Even though Farleigh persists with glaring at him, when he turns back, he rests his cheek against your head, oozing malevolence as he seemingly tucks himself against you too. But he does indeed remain quiet.

After the altercation passes, Oliver gets a brief introduction to one of the other house guests at Saltburn, Pamela, brief being the operative word as she's quickly sent away to ask about tea from one of the staff members at Felix's mother's insistence. Pamela herself doesn't exactly seem confident in the task, but that's once again when you speak up. Much to Oliver's surprise, you give a detailed physical description of the woman - Annie - and succinct directions to the kitchen itself, following it up with a yawn and -

"The Irish one, a bit mousy, might have trouble meeting your gaze but she's nice enough."

Pamela looks far more confident thanks to your directions. Oliver's genuinely shocked at your level of detail and knowledge, but everyone else seems to be so casually used to it.

"She is a bit like that, isn't she?" Felix's mother muses with an idle air, and when Oliver glances back at you, you still have your eyes closed, as if close to falling back asleep, while Farleigh has his faint, fond laughter pressed against your temple.

Before Oliver can even reckon with the moment that had just come to pass, Felix's mother is regaling him with all of Pamela's dirty laundry, before she dives right into pitying Oliver himself, and the sob story of his life and most recent 'tragedy' she's heard.

She looks at him just the same way Felix had. He think of the moment he'd decided to commit to this Dickensian kayfabe, that day in the pub when Felix's eyes were fixed on him, all pity and desire and a desperate need to fix, to save, to be a light in Oliver's life. The way this woman speaks, the way she looks at him in this moment, makes Felix Catton make total and complete sense. Something inside Oliver relaxes; she would not be hard won.

As they circle back around to the tragedy of poor Pamela, however, something about what Farleigh says, pointing out that the tragedy of her was the only interesting thing about her, sticks in the back of Oliver's mind.

Being beautiful and tragic would only ever get him so far, would only ever make him a novelty. It takes another glance back at you for him to realise a little more of why you behaved the way you did; tragic and beautiful and useful. That's the thought that turns over in his mind, even as Felix's mother starts her line of questioning about the sordid details of his upbringing, and Venetia joins them only to stare at him like a bug, and Farleigh only seems to be holding himself back from outright contempt at your behest. You are once again asleep. At least Felix makes a token effort to reprimand his mother, not that it appears to make much of a difference.

Oliver offers what little he can get away with, and feels only relief when Felix insists they start getting ready for dinner. Oliver practically bolts, he doesn't even wait for Felix like he probably should have, just desperately hoping he's got the right door to his own room. Clearly he has, swearing when he's finally in his little piece of sanctuary, but after a beat he realises that even that has been breached.

His suitcase is no longer at the foot of his bed.

In another moment, the door that connects his room to the bathroom squeaks open and there's two more people in his room without bothering to even knock. At least Felix is apologising for his mother. Part of Oliver thinks he should have expected the Cattons to be exactly as out of touch as this house implied, that he should have braced himself better, that it's not Felix's fault, but the apology is still nice.

Also he's rather distracted by the fact that all of his clothes have been organised neatly in the old, wooden cupboard.

"Did someone unpack my suitcase?" Oliver hears himself ask distractedly. Looking back when Felix makes a noise of guilt, he sees Felix sitting on the edge of his bed with an apologetic smile, and you next to him, laying back on the bed and looking at the ceiling.

"Uh, shit, yes, I should have told you," Felix admits, "they do that kind of thing here." Rich, whimsical weirdos, the lot of them, "the maids all report back to mum, by the way," Felix informs him, while you're just quietly swinging your legs off the edge of the bed. Felix's tone turns teasing, however, "so I hope you didn't pack anything scandalous." Oliver leans on the wooden foot of the bed, into Felix's space with an amused smile at the thought - pushing his luck, pushing into Felix's space to play off of the idea of scandal, so close to Felix and his mischievous smile. Felix leans back, the tease, giving Oliver space to quietly say -

"Just my old boxers."

You snicker. Felix grins.

"No, they're used to that, don't worry," but then Felix is up again, almost too close, looking at Oliver like he knows this is all some kind of joke, like he know - like he wants Oliver to keep looking at him, at his teasing smile, at his lips like that, "Duncan will be thrilled." Like this is all a game. Oliver snorts a laugh.

But the moment doesn't last, and Felix is moving again, getting up, telling Oliver a new rule - ahead of time this time. Dinner at Saltburn is an event you dress for, with the kind of dress code that requires a dinner jacket and cuff links and - Oliver would be properly embarrassed if it didn't mean he got to wear Felix's spare jacket. Felix seems almost embarrassed by it all, his casual nature clearly butting heads with the formality of his heritage. In this moment he almost seems childish, it's rather sweet. Judging by your smile, you're endeared by his behaviour without even having to see it; you hadn't even thought to sit up; your eyes have fallen closed, as if basking in this moment.

Oliver watches you, the way you radiate contentment. You were not born into Saltburn, but you'd made it your home. You'd won the love of Felix Catton, and a place in his life, that no-one else had managed to achieve. Hope was a beautiful thing, and you were both in this moment.

"I'm really happy you're here, Ol," Felix finally murmured, and finally Oliver believes him, "I'm sorry everything's so... old fashioned."

"No," Oliver's voice is soft, "it's wonderful."

The pleased smile Felix wears as he heads through to his own room makes everything about this strange, ritualistic, obsessive, critical world worth it. Over his shoulder, he asks if you'll be coming through too, and you tell him you'll catch up in a second. Felix closes the door over quietly, and after a moment, Oliver joins you, laying back on the bed.

"I like your room," Oliver breaks the silence after a moment. After a moment, a hum that's more like a contented laugh escapes you. You mumble a thanks; it's been a few hours since he'd seen you initially, your chatter had died down considerably, it seemed like you'd sobered up a good deal in the afternoon that had just passed.

There's a million things Oliver wants to say in this moment, things he wants to do, questions he has about you, about Felix, about Saltburn.

"It's not-" he finally starts, voice so soft as he finally turns to you, "it wasn't your fault, by the way."

When you turn to meet his gaze, there's surprise and confusion in your eyes, clearly not sure what he was referring to. Its been a long time now since he'd deliberately reached out for you, since you'd slept together, since Felix had first started giving him resentful looks. Things are better now. Much better.

"What?"

All it takes is a deliberate, gentle touch, his hand taking yours, apology in his eyes. Its enough to acknowledge that he'd spent time pulled away from you, that you weren't crazy to think that, and that you weren't at fault.

Oliver's always liked watching you process things, at least when you allow the world to see it happen on your face, not making an effort to hide it. You look down at his hand on yours, grip loose like more of a reassurance; raising your joined hands like you can't quite believe the sight, he takes the opportunity to link your fingers. It wasn't your fault.

Looking deliberately back at the ceiling, he gives you the time and space to process this development without feeling so watched.

"Oh," you mumble quietly, finally, "it's..." you give his hand a squeeze, "thanks?" Oliver smiles, and knows you see it, can see in his peripheries the way you're watching him now, but when he goes to withdraw his hand, you hold him tighter for just a beat, as if on instinct, before you let him go.

"Can I be bold for a moment?" He breaks the moment, breaks the tension, voice light and inquisitive.

"I like your boldness, Ollie, you know that," you respond automatically, matching his energy easily. Sitting up, Oliver turns to fix you with a scrutinising look for a long moment, and you wait, you watch him with eyebrows raised and an amused smile painted across your lips.

"You're sleeping with Farleigh," it's not a question. Your smile grows wider and far more smug.

"Ollie - Oliver - look at me," you prop yourself up on one elbow, gesturing down at your body, "look at where we are," you gesture around at the bedroom itself, "how many Summers do you think unrelated teenagers in close proximity, growing steadily more attractive with each passing year, can get through without ending up deciding to fuck to pass the time?"

Oliver, charmed by your blunt confidence, can't help but laugh, while also being able to connect enough dots to the implication that he should expect you to be just as close to Felix's sister too. You join him in his laughter, finally sitting yourself up. Oliver knocks his knee with yours, deliberate, and watches with a kind of fondness as you immediately focus on the moment of brief contact. You'd missed him, just as he'd anticipated.

But the laughter dies down, and you finally stand, sighing that you should probably get yourself ready for dinner too. Before stepping away, you lean back down with a wide, goofy smile that reminds Oliver a bit of Felix, and gently grasp his chin, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. Oliver, a little startled by the gesture but welcoming it nonetheless, feels want burn through his veins momentarily as he watches you head to the door.

"Oh, Ollie, there's some stuff under the sink for you," you yawned and stretched and Oliver tried desperately not to stare at the way your shirt rode up, "shampoo, toothpaste, contacts; junk like that, you know, just in case." Wait, what was that last one?

"Contacts?"

"Yeah," like it was perfectly fucking reasonable, your hand on the door, "in case you didn't bring any or you ran out - there's actually a spare pair of glasses as well, if you'd prefer. Same frames as yours, I wasn't sure-"

"You know my prescription?"

"Yeah?"

"How...?"

You go quiet. You shrug. Its not a real answer.

Right; a magician never reveals their secrets. Its not particularly reassuring for a man lying about a large portion of his life.

For now Oliver just tries to remind himself of the way you look at him, the way you want him, the way he loves you, for who you are, for all you can do.

"Thank you," he says quietly, gives you a smile and hopes you believe it, "you're good to me." He's not sure what about that surprises you, but he catalogues this in the back of his mind. There's something beautiful and, he suspects, rare, about catching you off guard. But your next words are enough to return the favour, have his heartbeat in his ears, hopeful and quick as a humming bird right before you leave.

"Of course I am, Ollie, I love you."

And he's not sure why, but he believes you.

[rebelliousstories]

First

Relationship: Maximus x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @fallout-girl219

Warnings: Fluff, Allusions to Suggestive Themes, Brief Angst

Word Count: 770

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: When you finally get over one hurdle, there is another waiting for you.

Laying back in the sheets, a couple was trying to catch their breath. They were slowly pulling the covers back onto their bodies as they lay there. She reached over and tried to find the hand of the man next to her.

“You doing okay there, Max?” She asked, thumb rubbing over his own.

“Uh huh.” He replied, not quite finding his words at the moment.

“Need anything?” This time, she rolled over and visibly checked up on the man. He was panting less, but still sweaty. His eyes held a far off look while he stared at the ceiling.

“Uh uh.” Maximus declined, slowly coming back down to earth from wherever he ended up. But even though he declined, his face morphed into something sour the longer he thought.

“What is it, Maxi? What can I do?” She was stroking a hand over his face when, without a word, Maximus turned towards her on his side and burrowed into her chest. Giggling lightly, she pulled him closer and laid down on her back.

“Did you just need a cuddle?” Maximus nodded quickly into her chest, and wrapped his arms around her body while it was cuddled up to his.

“That felt good.” He murmured, half of the words being muffled by the skin pressed against his own.

“It usually does. There’s a reason we sound proof the vault doors too.” This prompted a chuckle from Maximus, who found the predicament funny.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Maxi? You’re so quiet.” She stroked her hand down his back, and trailed it up to scratch through his short, cropped hair. They sat in silence for a minute while the man gathered his thoughts.

“I’m okay, just… thinking. But I’m good, thank you.” He replied, smushing his face further in his partner’s chest.

“Why are you thanking me sweetie?” There was wonder in her voice as she thought about what Maximus was talking about.

“Just for being there. For being you and doing this with me. It’s a weird feeling but I finally feel safe and like I can take things slow for the first time ever.” He poked his head up to look her in the eyes, and all he saw was love. She trailed a hand to stroke her hand over his cheek and drew him in for a delicate kiss. So much of his life was hard, rough, cut-throat, that to be treated with such softness was a foreign feeling. It had taken a very long time until they could be at this point.

“I love you so much, Maxi,” pulling away no matter how much Maximus tried to follow her lips. “You deserve to have some nice things in your life. And if one of those is me, I’m honored.”

“You’re not just one thing that’s nice in my life. You’re the main reason my life is nice.” He proclaimed, pushing himself on to his elbows above the woman in the bed. Maximus leaned down and captured her lips in his once more; this time with more vigor and attention. Trailing a hand down her side over the covers, she shivered lightly as the touch tickled her. Maximus broke away from the kiss and just smiled down at her. 

”I’m hungry.” He stated plainly, getting up off the bed and wandering into the kitchen. She laughed out loud as he rifled through the cabinets to find something to eat and was happy that he finally found what he had, apparently, been searching for. A can of tuna.

Maximus grabbed a fork and made his way to the bed after opening and draining the can. He slid under the covers once more and offered a bite to the girl next to him, to which she declined. She watched him happily eat the canned fish in the bed, but pushed him off when he tried to kiss her again.

“No sir. You go brush your teeth and wash your hands before coming back to me. I don’t want that smell lingering.” The man pouted as he was kicked from the bed, and went to do as he was told. In the meantime, she got out of the bed and lit a candle to get rid of the remaining smells. By the time Maximus made it back to bed, she was back under the covers and looked like she was dozing off. He slipped back underneath, yet again, and held her close.

“I love you.” He whispered, unsure if she could hear him or not.

“I love you too.” She whispered back, happy that he felt comfortable enough to say it.

[egcdeath]

cupid’s arrow

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: you and joel have your first valentine’s day together. (part of the soccer parents alternate universe)

warnings: alternate universe: no apocalypse, established relationship, domesticity, so much fluff. be prepared to call your dentist.

word count: 7.5k

author’s note: happy extremely late valentine’s day!!! i tried to incorporate a little bit of all the requests i got for this fic, so special thank you to everyone who helped make this fic happen!!

technically the timelines don’t really line up from this fic and the l word (many i love you’s are uttered) but you know what. it’s valentine’s day. valentine’s day magic ✨

“So, what’s your Valentine’s Day plan this year?” Sarah asked on her otherwise quiet commute to school.

Joel drew his attention away from the road to glance at his daughter and smiled to himself, just the slightest bit. He always found it oddly endearing to see just how invested his and your daughter were into your relationship. At this point, it was no secret that Sarah and Chloe had worked hard to set you and him up a multitude of times, and Joel certainly wasn’t mad about it. If anything, he was grateful for your kids being nosy and sharp enough to know when to make a move when you and himself clearly could not.

“Well I want our first one to be a good one, so I booked a reservation at this really nice restaurant. Pretty expensive, pretty hard to get into, but she deserves the best,” Joel said with a deceptively nonchalant tone.

Joel couldn’t even lie—he was proud of himself. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had spent Valentine’s day with anyone other than his daughter, and he’d booked the reservation the moment that it was available. The restaurant really was notorious for being hard to get into on a non-holiday, let alone Valentine’s Day, so he was sure you would appreciate the subtle-yet-grand gesture.

“Dad,” Sarah began, her tone slightly apprehensive as if she were preparing to break bad news to him. “I know this is your first Valentine’s Day in forever, but a restaurant is just… it isn’t enough anymore.”

“What?” Joel asked, slightly taken aback. Given that he hadn’t had a serious relationship in some time, and was more than slightly insecure about his ability to be as good of a partner as you expected, hearing his daughter explain that a fancy dinner wasn’t enough in the modern dating scene was jarring at the least, and terrifying at the most.

“Don’t worry. You’re lucky that your daughter is full of ideas. We’re gonna give your woman a perfect Valentine’s day.”

-

At your daughter’s request, you were painting Chloe’s nails to match the upcoming holiday to the absolute best of your ability. You tried your best, but your hand-eye coordination wasn’t amazing, so the best of your ability ended up being a set of pink nails with one red finger–but your daughter was enjoying the process regardless.

“So mom,” Chloe began, fanning one hand as she attempted to speed up the process of drying her nails. “What’re you getting Joel for Valentine’s day?”

“I was thinking of taking him on a date to his favorite cafe. Something a little more relaxed,” you lightly dabbed some acetone where you’d gotten some polish on her skin.

“That’s sweet but… are you sure Joel wants that? I mean, you two always go there. It’s not particularly romantic.”

It wasn’t exactly shocking that you weren’t great with big romantic gestures. Nathan had been morally opposed to them, or too lazy for them, or something that ensured no one ever did anything romantic for you, and in return, you very rarely did anything romantic for him. Given that the last time you spent a Valentine’s Day (or anniversary… really any day that called for romance) with someone was with him, you weren’t even really sure where to start.

“Oh,” you thought aloud, trying to process the idea that small gestures wouldn’t really do justice to portray just how much you loved and appreciated your partner. “I guess you’re right.”

“Let me help you,” she insisted, excitedly grabbing onto your arm as her eyes lit up.

Well, it wasn’t like Chloe wasn’t good at these things. If it wasn’t for her and Sarah’s intervention, you and Joel never would’ve been together in the first place. It certainly wouldn’t kill you to let her help you out in this field.

“Okay, fine,” you agreed, playing up your reluctance.

“Yay!” she cheered. “This is gonna be so fun.”

You certainly hoped it would be.

-

On the morning of Valentine’s day, you were somewhat surprised when your alarm went off and you found Joel’s side of the bed to be both empty and cold.

Considering that your plan was to wake up early to leave a gift in the kitchen before Joel had the chance to get there, your Valentine’s Day plans weren’t off to the best start. You immediately rolled out of bed and suppressed the groan you wanted to let out at the sweet smell wafting up from the kitchen—both from anticipation of something delicious waiting for you, and the knowledge that your plan had been foiled.

After doing some rummaging through his closet, you managed to find the box of the coffee machine that you’d hidden, and hesitantly began your trek downstairs, knowing that your big reveal would be slightly less ideal. When you arrived in the kitchen, Joel was standing at the stove and diligently working on something. He glanced back at you, and a smile instantly formed on his lips at the sight of you—bed hair, old pajamas, and all.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he greeted, setting his spatula down and coming over to give you a tight embrace. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you said right back, relaxing into his hug despite the large box in your hands slightly obstructing it. “What’re you doing?”

“It��s a surprise,” Joel stated plainly, stepping back to look at what you were holding. “What’s this?”

“Your gift. I know you love coffee more than you love any person who’s in this house right now, so it’s time for you to get rid of your archaic machine. This is a Nespresso. Very modern and very good, or so I’ve heard,” you extended your hands to offer the box, which he gladly accepted

Joel examined it, the smile on his face not even faltering for a moment. With all this smiling, you were sure his cheeks would hurt by the end of the day. “Thank you so much. I can’t wait to use this,” he set down the box on the counter then gave you a peck. “Now, go back upstairs so I can finish working on your surprise.”

“Mm, sounds good,” you hummed, still fighting sleepiness as you retreated back up the stairs.

Well, your gift reveal may not have gone exactly the way you wanted it to, but you were pleased to see that Joel was still happy with what you gave him. Chloe would be proud.

“What is this?” Sarah asked, looking down at her plate of oddly shaped pink pancakes.

It was clear that this was what Joel had gotten up early to work on—Valentine’s Day themed pancakes. Although there was clearly an attempt at making what you could only assume were hearts, the pancakes came out as blobs more than anything else.

“…Hearts?” Joel suggested, sounding very unsure of his answer as he sipped his cup of coffee (made by his brand new machine).

“Dad…” Sarah trailed off, pushing around parts of her pancake.

“Are you gonna eat them or not?” Joel retorted, obviously a little less than enthusiastic about the reaction to the pancakes he’d gotten up early to work on, and worked quite hard on.

“I’m not gonna say no to breakfast.”

“I tried my best. It’s harder than it looks, okay?”

“They’re cute,” you interrupted. “It’s the thought that counts. I love them,” you hummed. The least you could do was support Joel in his romantic endeavors. Sure, the pancakes didn’t look amazing, but it really was a sweet gesture. And maybe they didn’t look the best, but they certainly tasted good.

Sarah didn’t exactly look like she believed you, and she glanced skeptically at Chloe, who was quietly giggling at the oddly shaped amoebas on her plate.

“I’m not an artist,” Joel explained, almost apologetically as your kids picked at their pancakes.

“We can tell,” Chloe murmured, earning herself a glare from you and a giggle from her friend.

“I never asked you to be one,” you assured. “It’s abstract. And it’s good enough for me.”

Joel quickly pecked your lips, eliciting a collective ‘ew!’ from the table.

“Alright, that’s enough from you two. Finish up quickly so we can get you to school on time,” you instructed.

The girls reluctantly agreed and finished up their abstract plates without much more protest or teasing before grabbing their last few items and heading off to the car.

“Did you actually like it? You can be honest with me,” Joel asked as you finished off your mug of coffee.

“I was being honest! I really did love it. It’s sweet that you put so much effort into doing something nice for me. Waking up all early, being in the kitchen all morning… I bet doing pancake art is pretty difficult.”

“It is, and you’d never guess that it is. The batter kinda just runs all over the place,” he explained, grabbing your empty dish and dropping it off at the sink. You got out of your seat and followed him over to where he stood, attempting to assure him that you really did enjoy the thoughtfulness of his gesture.

“Well, I love that you tried so hard to make something nice for me to wake up to,” you took a step closer to Joel, giving him a brief little peck to show your appreciation. “And I love you.” you leaned in for one slightly longer kiss and Joel’s hands softly cupped your cheeks as the kiss deepened.  

Joel finally pulled away, dropping his hands down from your cheeks to your hands so he could hold them. “As much as I’d like to kiss you all morning, we do have two kids waiting to be taken to school sitting in my backseat right now.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right,” you sighed. “Can we pick up where we left off when we get back?”

“Of course,” he agreed, beginning to lead you out the door.

-

Although your morning plans may have fallen through, your plan to pick up on your make-out session certainly did not, which was how you found yourselves waiting for the shower to warm up so you could hop in together and wash off the ever present scent of sweat and sex.

“It’s been too long since we last showered together,” you remarked, testing out the heat of the water with the palm of your hand before taking a step inside.

“It’s just that my shower is so small,” he explained, following you into the shower. “And we always end up thinking showering together is better than it actually is.”

“It is small, but I like being this close to you,” you countered, hugging him from behind. “We’re bonding. Don’t you like bonding with me?”

“I do, until one of us slips, and won’t stop talking about how they almost died for an entire day,” he set his hands on top of yours as you embraced him.

“That was once, Joel. One time!” you exclaimed, breaking away from your partner to reach for his shampoo.

“One time too many,” he responded.

Although ‘almost dying’ was a bit of an over-dramatization, it certainly wasn’t fun to fall in the shower. The day began as a slow Sunday morning at Joel’s place. Your daughter was at Nathan’s for the weekend, and Sarah had been at a sleepover with some friends. Given that the two of you had the house to yourselves, you certainly made the most of it before heading to the shower to clean yourselves up. Halfway through Joel assisting you in exfoliating your legs, you were met with the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs, making you practically leap out of your skin, and lose your balance, leading you to fall pretty hard. Joel helped you up and immediately began to take care of you, and granted you weren’t too badly injured, but you refused to let Joel forget the time you dramatically tripped in the shower because Sarah got home from her sleepover a little early.  

“I can’t believe you’re treating me like this on Valentine’s Day,” you sighed, pouring some shampoo and reaching into his hair to massage his scalp. “We should probably break up.”

“I agree,” Joel practically sighed, relaxed from the way your fingers were working in his hair. “I think it’s for the best.”

“Okay, I’ll let the girls know when we get out of the shower. The parents that they worked so hard to set up are never going to see or speak to each other ever again,” you said the words very seriously, but the way you were massaging Joel’s scalp told a completely different story.

“Sounds like a plan,” Joel purred, letting you work your magic as you played with his hair. “You’re too good at this. Why don’t I let you do my hair more often?”

“Psht, you're preaching to the choir here,” you reached forward to rinse off your hands. “For the record, this is one of your Valentine’s gifts. Savor it while you can. Especially before we finalize our breakup.”

“I’m savoring,” he insisted.

You two took your time in the shower, truly enjoying an endeavor you didn’t often do with each other. By the time you finally stepped out, the water had dropped several degrees, and you were both becoming human prunes.

Just moments after Joel wrapped his towel around his hips, he had disappeared back into his room, leaving you peeking past the bathroom door to see what he was up to. It certainly wasn’t unheard of for one of you to get ready without the other, but you preferred to have his presence with you in that humid little bathroom.

Joel came back just a few moments later, slightly more dressed, and now wielding a flat, red box.

“I got you something,” he announced as he joined you at the sink, bashfully looking down at the item in his hands.

“Oh?” you said curiously, glancing at the box as Joel slowly opened it, revealing a thin, silver necklace with what looked like a small diamond attached to it.  

“It’s a necklace,” he explained, beginning to lift the dainty accessory out of the box so that he could fully display it to you.

You were immediately taken aback by it, an involuntary, “It’s beautiful,” slipping from your lips.

“Can I put it on you?” Joel asked cautiously. You eagerly agreed, excited to have a little piece of Joel on you at all times. You turned around and lifted up the back of your hair so that he could gently wrap the necklace around your neck, and he fumbled a bit with the clasp until it was just right.

“I love it,” you expressed, observing it in the mirror and running a finger against the chain of the necklace as you fully took it in. “This is too nice.”

“Nothing is too nice for you, my love.”

“You are such a sap,” you laughed, leaning forward to get a good look at the accessory and fully admire its beauty.

“And you love that about me,” Joel punctuated his sentence with a kiss to your cheek, leading you to giggle like a schoolgirl.

“You’re right. I do. Thank you,” you said, still checking yourself out with your new piece of jewelry.

“Can I take you somewhere?” you asked, glancing over at your partner in the mirror as he reached for his toothbrush.

“Sure. Where?”

“It’s a surprise,” you said with a knowing smile.

“So, where are we going?” Joel asked as you drove, the sunglasses on your nose preventing him from getting a good read on you.

“What part of surprise do you not get?” you teased, glancing over at him with a smirk. “We’re almost there. Hold your horses.”

Eventually, you pulled up to a little strip of businesses, and grabbed Joel’s hand as you led him out of the car and through a door.

You two were instantly hit with the smell of fragranced oil and the sound of rain from a sound maker as you walked further into the dim location. It was clear to you that Joel was still more confused than anything else.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Joel asked you in a whisper.

“Yes Joel, we are,” you laughed softly at his apprehension. To be fair, he didn’t have an idea of where he was or what you were making him do, but that didn’t make his nerves any less entertaining.

“And where exactly is that?” he followed up.

“We’re getting massages! C’mon,” you beckoned him to follow you up to a desk, where a bored-looking receptionist checked you in.

The two of you sat next to each other in the waiting room, waiting for your masseuses to prepare your room.

“What made you pick this?” Joel asked curiously.

“I dunno, you’re always telling me how sore you are after work. I thought maybe this would help your pain a little. It’s also very relaxing. You’re gonna love it and have a great time.”

There really weren’t too many problems you found that a nice massage at this salon couldn’t fix. When you found the time in your busy schedule to treat yourself to something nice and do a little self care, a deep tissue massage was always one of the first things you decided on doing. It was only a matter of time before you brought Joel along with you, and when you casually mentioned something about Joel to your masseuse, she did mention wanting to see him. Although, Chloe was the one to put the puzzle pieces together to you and suggest the couples’ massage.

“So you’ve done this before?” Joel questioned, still looking somewhere between a little cynical and a little trepidatious.

“Mhm,” you hummed, already imagining yourself getting every kink and bump in your back teased out.

“Walk me through it,” he suggested, seeming a little more comforted knowing that you had actually done this before.

“Well, we go in, they leave, and we strip down to our comfort level, then they just give us a nice deep tissue massage. It might feel a little uncomfortable at first, but it starts feeling pretty good pretty quickly.”

Joel’s expression circled back to slightly skeptical, his brow raised and eyes slightly squinted as he looked at you.

“Don’t make that face! You’re gonna love it. And I’m literally gonna be right next to you. When I called to book this, the receptionist said that the massage tables are so close together, we could hold hands the whole time if we wanted to.”

“Alright, fine. But if I hate it, I get to say that I told you so.”

“Okay, deal,” you agreed.

Your massage was going so well, you swore you were on a different planet. Sure, you didn’t have a very physically labor intensive job, but all the stress you'd accumulated over the last… however long always seemed to find itself stuck in your body. The massage was doing exactly what it needed to in terms of getting it out.

Joel groaned your name, his voice slightly distorted by his face being buried in the head pillow. “I take back everything I said.”

“I know,” you responded, far too gone to even really process what he was saying.

Walking out of that studio, you felt like a brand new person. Maybe that person was a little oily, but you felt like your body had gone under a complete transformation in just that hour.

“I can’t tell if I want to take a nap or run a marathon,” you exclaimed, stretching out your rejuvenated limbs.

“That was an amazing gift. Can we make this a V-Day tradition?” Joel asked, opening the car door for you.

“Hell yeah,” you agreed, getting into the passenger’s seat and breathing out a heavy sigh. “To think you thought you wouldn’t like it. Now I get to say I told you so.”

“Fair. I deserve it. That was life changing. I could marry you for thinking of that.”

Chloe actually thought of that, but Joel didn’t need to know that. For all you cared, he could keep thinking that you were the romantic genius.

“So what’s next on the agenda?”

“Just sit and wait. It’s a bit of a drive, so maybe you can get in that nap you wanted.”

You unsurprisingly slept like a rock after that massage. So much so, that you woke up to Joel softly saying your name and gently shaking your shoulder as he attempted to let you know that you’d arrived at your next destination.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with a an interesting looking building in front of you, one you’d seen in tourism handouts, but hadn’t yet visited for yourself—despite the many times you said you wanted to.

“Is this an art museum?” you asked aloud despite already knowing the answer.

Joel simply flashed you a toothy grin before popping out of the car, walking around it, and opening the door for you.

“I know you’ve been saying you want to come visit for a while,” he explained, slipping his hand into yours while you walked inside.

“I don’t know why I’m so surprised that you actually listen to me. Thank you,” you expressed.

You and Joel took your time walking around the museum, exploring the exhibits, reading the labels on pieces, and taking in all of the interesting and beautiful art. It was refreshing to come to a museum and not be rushed the whole time by an impatient daughter or disinterested spouse, and Joel expressing every now and then that despite being surrounded by so much beauty and artwork, you were the prettiest thing in the museum certainly enhanced your experience.

The two of you entered an exhibit that was obviously targeted towards children as you approached the end of the building, and your eyes immediately fell on a station that was clearly designed for kids to use. You walked towards it, and plopped down on one side of the tiny table before Joel sat down right across from you.

“Isn’t this for kids?” he asked you, his knees audibly creaking as he attempted to get comfortable on his tiny stool.

“Whatever. They’re all at school anyway. Or at least, they should be,” you grabbed a marker that was on your side of the divider, along with a piece of paper. “Wanna draw each other?”

“Haven’t we already established today that there’s not an artistic bone in my body?”

“C’mon, Joel,” you pleaded. “Please? As a Valentine’s Day gift?”

“Fine. Only because I love you. But you’re not allowed to laugh.”

“Swear,” you agreed despite knowing that it was more likely than not that you were going to laugh. While Joel reached for his own writing utensil and paper, you set your hand in front of the timer on the desk, giving you both five minutes to work on your portrait.

The man across from you focused deeply on his paper, looking pensively and seriously down at his paper and up at you every now and then rather than actually putting his marker to the paper.

After five minutes, the built-in alarm went off, and you both put your markers down, evaluating the work you had done.

“I don’t know if you want to see this. It’s really bad,” Joel confessed, awkwardly moving the paper out of your direct eyeline.

“It’s definitely not! Here, we’ll show each other at the same time. On the count of three?”

The two of you lifted your papers at the same time, and you involuntarily giggled when you looked at Joel’s. It was more or less an extremely basic stick figure with hearts around it. To be frank, your picture of Joel was basically the same.

“Hey, part of our agreement is that you wouldn’t laugh!” Joel said in between laughter of his own.

“Joel, you’re laughing too!” you giggled, the two of you progressively laughing harder until your stomachs were hurting. Eventually, you were able to catch your breath and collect yourself enough to get some actual words out. “Here, let’s swap. I wanna put this on my fridge.”

“Please don’t,” Joel gasped as he tried to catch his breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever live that down with our daughters.”

“Oh honey,” you responded, still fighting your fits of giggles. “That was the plan.”

-

After your museum date, you and Joel grabbed a quick lunch at a nearby cafe before heading back to the girls’ school to pick them up. You’d agreed to split up for the rest of the afternoon so that you had time to prepare for a nicer dinner in the evening.

It had been a long time since you’d dressed up like this. Although it was fun to get all dolled up, to put on a new matching set of lingerie under a new, formfitting dress, spend a good amount of time working on your makeup at your vanity, and take your time doing your hair, you couldn’t shake off the nervous feeling you were getting.

“Mom! Joel’s here!” Chloe yelled from your living room.

“You can let him in! I need to finish something up.”

You heard the familiar sound of conversation between Joel, Sarah, and Chloe while you finished up applying your lipstick, taking deep breaths as you did so. You just needed to see Joel, then you would feel better. To be quite honest, you were slightly intimidated by the restaurant he’d picked that night. Obviously you knew how exclusive and difficult to get in it was, but with how elite it was, part of you worried that you would stick out like a sore thumb.

But Joel had clearly worked so hard on making this night perfect for you, so you weren’t going to let a few nerves get you down. You grabbed your purse and headed downstairs, where your partner stood in your living room listening to your kids.

“Wow,” Joel said involuntarily when his eyes fell upon you. He immediately took a few steps towards you, setting a hand on your waist as he admired you.

“I don’t know why it always surprises me when I see how gross you guys are,” Chloe said, somewhere between a laugh and a cringe. “Okay, it’s time for you to get going. You don’t want to miss your reservation,” your daughter was practically pushing the two of you out the door, a little too enthusiastic to have the two of you gone. “Bye now!”

You finally were able to get a good look at Joel once you’d been shoved out of the door. He looked amazing in a well fitted suit, and a bouquet of red roses in hand.

“You look so handsome,” you gushed as you accepted his flowers. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing. I mean, you always look gorgeous, but you somehow found a way to look even more amazing.”

“Well thank you!” you giggled, letting Joel open the door to his car for you like the gentleman he was.

Joel sat down in the driver's seat, and began to head in the direction of the restaurant. Despite how late you were on the road, it seemed like traffic in the city was particularly bad. You and Joel kept up a light conversation, but the elephant in the room was clearly the traffic, and the fact that with every passing minute, the traffic only seemed to grow.

Your eyes flicked around in a cycle between the traffic ahead of you, your hot, but increasingly anxious date, and the clock on the dashboard. With just a few minutes until the time of your reservation, you finally piped up.

“Do you think we’re gonna make it on time?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” Joel answered quickly, his nerves quite obvious from the speed of his speech. He then followed it up with a slightly less agitated, “I hope so.”

“You know what? I’ll call and let them know we’re running late,” you suggested, reaching for your phone as if that would solve all issues.

That would make things better, right? You knew all that went into Joel getting this reservation, and you weren’t just gonna let it all slip away because of a little traffic.

You pressed your device to your ear and the phone rang once, then twice, then three times before you were informed by a robotic voice that the line was busy.

The scene of traffic didn’t seem to be getting any better either, with the cars in front of you essentially coming to a full stop every now and then. Time was quickly passing by, yet you weren’t making much progress distance-wise.  

You called again to no avail, and attempted to maintain your composure. They would pick up soon enough, and you would get to your reservation on time, and you and Joel would have a lovely evening at that very fancy, exclusive restaurant.

Finally, someone on the other line picked up. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you were finally able to connect with an actual person, and attempt to explain your situation to them.

“We are aware of the car accident and the traffic jam it caused. However, regardless of external circumstances, our grace periods only last ten minutes. Unfortunately we’ve already given away your table to someone else on the waitlist. Our deepest and sincerest apologies.”

You looked over at Joel helplessly, disappointed to deliver the news about something he’d been so excited for for so long.

“Okay, thank you,” you said, quickly hanging up. “I’m sorry,” was the first thing you said to Joel. “They gave our table away.”

“You’re joking,” he said almost flatly, clearly in disbelief that something he’d worked so hard to plan for had slipped through his fingers so easily, and over circumstances that were completely out of his control.

“I’m sorry. We were later than their grace period. But it’s okay! We can just go somewhere else. I’ve heard about a few good restaurants nearby?”

“It’s Valentine’s day. They’re all gonna be fully booked,” he sighed, defeat clear in his tone. “Should I just turn around?”

“No! Right now I’m hungry enough that I’d eat your shoe if you put it in front of me with some silverware. Just… take me anywhere. Maybe somewhere you like? Preferably without a long line?”

Joel fell silent as he thought for a moment, trying to come up with a location that he enjoyed that wouldn’t be particularly busy that evening. As he pondered, a light bulb seemed to go off in his mind, leading him to turn his vehicle around and begin to take you elsewhere.

Your heels clicked against the pavement as Joel took your hand and led you towards a food truck. The smoky aromas hitting your nose were nothing short of heavenly, and if Joel believed that it was good, you were definitely taking his word for it.

“Is that… Joel, is that you?” the man in the window asked in disbelief as the two of you approached.

“It is,” he confirmed, a bit shyly.

“Damn, man! I almost didn’t recognize you all dressed up! What’s the-“ his eyes fell upon you, and his face lit up as he put the pieces together. “Who’s this?”

Joel introduced you by name, and wrapped an arm around you subconsciously. “We’re just celebrating Valentine’s Day.”

“Well you picked the right spot. Nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Louis.”

“Hi Louis. You know Joel?” you asked, curious about the camaraderie the pair seemed to have.

“I practically watched him grow up, so yeah, I guess so,” he flashed the two of you a smile, the look he gave Joel slightly more knowing than the soft one he offered you. “What’re we ordering tonight?”

Joel looked at you and shrugged, giving you the go-ahead for anything. It wasn’t like he wasn’t planning on spending a whole mortgage and kidney worth on food at the restaurant you had a reservation at.

You ordered a few different things from his menu, led more by your eyes and nose than your stomach. Louis nodded as you spoke before calling something out to the people working by the grill, and maintaining his position at the window so he could talk to you two.

“Why haven’t I met your friend before, Joel?” Louis asked, teasing in his voice.

“Well, obviously I was waiting for the most romantic day of the year to bring her here,” he looked away from his family friend and back to you. “You know, most people say that bringing your partner here is basically like having a ring in your hand and dropping to one knee.”

“Oh?” you laughed. “I’m flattered. Are you proposing to me?”

“No, not yet,” Joel shot a wink at you, and you felt a slight warmth rise to your cheeks. Of course, he was joking, but if he asked you in that moment to marry him, you’d probably say yes.

“Depending on how good this is, I may be proposing to you, Louis,” you teased, deflecting from the fantasy of marrying your partner.

“Hey! No need for that. Joel’ll bring you to one of my barbecues this summer. I promise you’ll eat so much of my food that you’ll never even want to even think about it again. Right, Joel?”

“Correct. Why do you think it’s been so long since I’ve visited you last?”

“Oh, excuses, excuses,” Louis dismissed, glancing back over his shoulder at the employee preparing your food. “Well lovebirds, since it’s Valentine’s Day, how’d you meet?” he questioned curiously, leaning further onto the ledge so he could get a good look at you and Joel.

“Our kids played soccer together on the same team, so we met through arguing like, all the time,” you laughed, glancing over at Joel who seemed just the slightest bit embarrassed at your frankness of your unconventional meet-cute.

“It sounds kinda bad when you put it like that. We were basically flirt-arguing,” Joel attempted to explain.

“Maybe you were. I was just arguing. But eventually our girls became friends, and we were forced to spend more time together, and I realized he’s not half bad,” you were downplaying just how much you adored the man standing next to you for a bit of comedic effect, but the quick look the two of you shared seemed to communicate everything it needed to for Louis.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Joel said, cracking an adoring half-smile at you.

“That is too damn sweet,” Louis expressed as he looked between the two of you. He had to do a bit of reading in between the lines, but it was clear to him that the two of you were a rather happy pair, as evidenced by your comfortable body language and the fond teasing. He was clearly quite pleased to see Joel as happy as he was with you. “As much as I’d like to chat and hear more, your order is unfortunately ready. We’ll catch up another time?”

Louis turned around to grab your boxes, and leaned back over the ledge to pass them to Joel.

“Of course. If I don’t get back around sometime soon, we’ll definitely be at one of your barbecues this summer.”

“Good,” Louis nodded. “And before you head back home, stop back over here. I’ll make Sarah her favorite, and something for your daughter too!” he offered you both.

Louis’ barbecue was no joke. You and Joel absolutely demolished everything that was ordered as you laid in the bed of his truck, sat on the blankets Joel had packed for a previous picnic and had never seemed to put back.

“Why hadn’t you brought me here sooner?” you asked, sauce on the edges of your lips. “I feel like a brand new person after this.”

Joel reached over, dabbing at your mouth with a napkin to clean up what you missed. “I told you, this is like serious engagement food. If I brought you here too early on, I might’ve scared you off by moving too fast,” he jokingly explained as he set down the napkin and dragged himself a little closer to you.

You playfully rolled your eyes at the explanation, but leaned onto Joel regardless. “Yeah, whatever,” you muttered, setting your head on his shoulder and looking up at the night sky.

“Do you remember that night when you helped me out with making the team dinner?” Joel seemingly asked out of the blue, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“I do,” you nodded, glancing away from the sky and instead looking at Joel. “We’re a pretty great team.”

“We are,” Joel agreed, pausing for a moment. “Do you remember when I asked you out for the first time?”

“Of course I do.”

“I was so nervous. I really liked you a lot, but I wasn’t completely sure you’d say yes, and I didn’t want to ruin the friendship we’d been working on, or make things awkward for the girls. I just kept looking at the sky so I wouldn’t see you and think about all of those things,” he confessed, looking to the sky as he spoke.

“Are you nervous now?” you asked, noticing him watch the stars above you.

“No,” he assured you. “It’s just really beautiful out here tonight. Really clear.”

You leaned in closer, practically sitting on the lap of the man next to you at that point, “Do you see anything good up there?”

“Yeah,” Joel answered, his words blowing a few strands of hair as he spoke.

“Show me?” you asked, curiously peering up at the sky to attempt to see what Joel might’ve been seeing.

“Of course,” he agreed. “Well that right there is the big dipper. And the little dipper, too.”

“Where?” you asked, despite seeing it clearly. You had stargazed with Joel a handful of times, and he always did this cute thing when he saw something that you couldn’t see—grabbing your hand and leaning into you while he pointed out the stars with your own fingers, essentially cuddling you as he did so. His knowledge of what he was looking for, the competency in his actions, and the proximity he kept with you always drove you a little bit wild, and you’d be a fool to turn down an opportunity of getting that side of him out.

Joel took the bait, not even realizing that it was bait. He gently guided your arm to point out the constellation, speaking quietly next to your ear as he narrated what he was seeing. It was taking everything in you not to jump his bones then and there as he helped you see each set of stars.

After a period of pointing out constellations to each other, the two of you finally seemed to run out of observations to make, leaving you quietly sharing space on the blanket laid out in the bed of Joel’s truck.

“This has been my favorite Valentine’s day ever,” you expressed, gazing up at the stars with far less effort than you’d had previously. “I do love spending the day with you, but you really went out of your way to make today sweet. I appreciate it.”

“Hey, I can’t take all the credit. You are the one who arranged that absolutely life changing massage, and the Nespresso machine was great too. I will definitely be using it all the time now.”

“You know, it’s so weird. I used to hate Valentine’s day. Dread it every year because I just knew I’d be disappointed. But you changed that for me. Maybe it’s all the stuff we got to do, but I honestly think I’d be happy doing laundry or something with you today, as long as it meant I’d get to be with you.”

You were thoroughly exhausted after your day of Valentine’s activities, paired with the digestion you were going through after all of that dangerously delicious barbecue you and Joel had consumed. It was safe to say that the ride back to your place was a quiet one, only filled with the occasional uncomfortable grunt or a comment reminiscing on how good your dinner was.

By the time you opened your door, you were shocked to find your living room completely uprooted and transformed into a massive pillow fort. Your daughters, who conveniently were sitting inside of the fort, didn’t seem to notice you as you came in, as they were far too caught up in the Hallmark movie they were watching. Eventually, the sound of feet shuffling caught their attention, and the pair were out of the fort in record time.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” they both cheered, making jazz hands towards the fort.

“To commemorate your first date, we built you a new and improved pillow fort,” Sarah explained, as she continued to Vanna White their creation.

“This time, it’s big enough for all of us. You’ve had enough alone time today,” Chloe expressed. “Come, come! Are you ready for the tour?”

Your kids showed you the inside of the fort, and there honestly wasn’t much to see. However, it was still quite impressive that they’d managed to pull off putting together such a big fort in such a short period of time.  

“But before we lay down, go change into pajamas. No one should be in a pillow fort in a suit. That’s just ridiculous,” Sarah remarked

“You heard the girl, go!” Chloe emphasized, herding you two upstairs without even giving you time to voice any sort of protest.

“You really went all out this year,” Joel gushed as he followed you into your bedroom.

Hearing him say that did make you feel a little guilty. Sure he didn’t need to know that Chloe had done most of the heavy lifting when it came to celebrating this holiday, but it felt wrong to keep things from him—even something as small as not coming up with original ideas.

“Joel, I have to tell you something,” you began hesitantly as he unzipped your dress.

“Oh no. Are you breaking up with me? Are you pregnant?” he glanced at you over your shoulder.

“No! And no, that’s just my food baby. It’s just that… basically everything I did for you today, Chloe helped me come up with. I was gonna get you a box of chocolates, show you this number,” you gestured at the lingerie revealed by your fallen dress, “then call it a day.”

“You wanna know the truth?” he asked before reaching into your dresser and tossing you a set of pajamas. “I needed Sarah’s help for almost everything today, too. Obviously it was a great day, but… I don’t need fancy things from you or huge romantic gestures, despite what our children might think. Your love alone is plenty.”

“Promise?” you asked, pulling on your pajama shirt.

“Swear.”

“Can we shake on doing a massage and getting barbecue next Valentine’s Day, nothing more and nothing less?”

“That sounds perfect,” Joel agreed, shaking your hand to drive in the point of your agreement. “Now let’s go check out that pillow fort.”

Chloe and Sarah snuggled against you as a new, cheesy rom-com played out on the television in front of you.

“So, how was your V-Day?” Chloe asked, looking between you and Joel mischievously. Obviously, the kids were curious about the fruits of their labor, and you genuinely could not blame them. With all the effort they’d put into making your day great, they deserved to know just how pleasant it was.

“It was amazing,” you confirmed, squeezing your daughter’s shoulder.

“We couldn’t have done it without you two,” Joel added, tossing a not-so-subtle wink at Sarah.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Sarah asked with a slightly uncomfortable laugh.

“It means that you two are hopeless romantics, and without your guys’ help, we would’ve had a painfully boring Valentine’s Day,” you explained.

“Can you blame us for wanting to help you two old farts out? You haven’t celebrated this holiday in like 200 years,” Chloe retorted.

“Nothing wrong with that,” you affirmed. “You guys are good eggs. Is it too late to ask you both to be my Valentine?”

“Yes,” Chloe deadpanned.

“Nope,” Sarah said, popping her ‘p’. “But only if you get us heart-shaped boxes of chocolate.”

“I think that can be arranged. Right, Joel?” you asked.

“Fine. I’ll pick up some discounted chocolates after work tomorrow,” Joel said it begrudgingly, but deep down you knew that his softie heart was bursting with love for your family.

“Thank you. Happy Valentine’s day, my lovely loves,” you expressed, pulling the girls next to you closer to emphasize your point.

“Ew, mom,” Chloe squealed, only egging you on to pepper her cheeks in kisses.

This had by far been your favorite Valentine’s Day, and it really wasn’t even close. When you were surrounded by your favorite people in the world, doing something ridiculously thoughtful and sentimental, there was no way you could ever ask for more.

[arctophyllax]

I may hate Christmas but some people evidently don’t, so I bring to you:

Gifts the Tiefling Bachelors would give and like to receive on Christmas (+ Love Languages)

Zevlor

Love Language(s): Acts of Service, Quality Time, Words of Affirmation

Giving:

• definitely something practical

• warm clothing, protective armor

• maybe some nice books

• alcohol, if he knows that you like alcohol

• his gifts would be sweet and heartfelt

• he would invite you to join him for the evening, take you out for dinner or let you stay over and cook for you

• he would call you to the warm fireplace after eating and give you a messily wrapped gift and perhaps a kiss on the forehead

• he’s sweet, he’s soft, he tries to always give you nice things, like you deserve

• he knows that there was a time where he couldn’t afford giving you these nice things, but that only makes it all the more important to him to do it now

• he wouldn’t expect anything in return, but if you do give him something he will accept it with the most gentle smile and another sweet kiss

Receiving:

• I feel like he would enjoy getting something that reminds him of you

• you could give him the least expensive, silliest thing and he would still thank you for it, especially when it has something to do with who you are

• a piece of your clothing that has your perfume on it (he is a cuddler who will miss you when you’re gone and you can’t convince me otherwise)

• self-made necklaces and bracelets

• gift him a nice weapon, something he can use to protect you, to protect everyone he loved

• quality time.

• simply spend time with him, he will be so happy

———————

Dammon

Love Language(s): Gift Giving, Physical Touch, Acts of Service

Giving:

• you know what I’m about do say, do I even have to say it?

• he would gift you something he made, something you can use to protect yourself

• a weapon, armor, enchanted jewellery

• yes, rings

• he’s so sly, he will make you a nice weapon or a ring and carve in a little watermark

• is it to mark his work? Is it to mark you? You might never know

• books, he knows his way around books… he would pick up on your reading habits and gift you just the right thing

• might gift you something… suggestive. If you’re up for that

• again, quality time

• he’s the type to work even on christmas, but you’re the one person who can pull him away from his l work with one mere word

• would be content to spend the entire evening with you in his arms

• would assure you over and over again how much you mean to him

Receiving:

• if you’re an artist, gift him something you drew or painted

• if you’re a writer, you write him a story or a poem

• if you do any other crafts that require a certain degree of creativity, give him something you made

• inviting him for dinner is also on the table

• be extra affectionate and give him a ton of random kisses

• hang up mistletoes

• you won’t regret that one

• as with Zevlor, he would enjoy something that reminds him of you: clothing with your scent (this has innuendos), random things you found on your travels, trinkets and (non-enchanted) jewellery (of personal value, he likes knowing that you trust him with things that are of personal value to you)

• the obvious: materials (especially infernal ones)

———————

Rolan

Love Language(s): Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Gift Giving

Giving:

• his presence

• magic shows, little lessons of him also teaching you some tricks

• magic, magic, magic, so much magic

• the type for handwritten letters

• careful, those handwritten letters are one of the only times in the year that he lets his sassy act down and is entirely honest — he probably wrote it drunk

• he would praise you in the letter, tell you how beautiful and strong you are, how much he liked you ever since you dared to tell him to stay at the grove

• alcohol, definitely the type to gift you the best alcohol he can find

• a dance (he’s classy like that)

• after act 3, invites you to Ramazith tower and shows you all the secrets and surprises he found (he’s very excited)

• also shows you his favourite books in the tower

Receiving:

• anything enchanted (this includes you)

• a letter in return to his

• food. Feed that man, he deserves it.

• sweet things, pretty Christmas cookies, build a gingerbread house with him (it’ll be chaotic)

• depending on how good you can cook, you can cook him a hearty stew, something with dark broth, soft meat and a little red wine in it to spice up the taste

• hug him

• he acts like he doesn’t enjoy being hugged but he absolutely does.

• and he NEEDS to be hugged

• tell him he’s precious

• take him to the Christmas market & hold his hand the whole time

[rdr2stories]

"Am I somehow so terrible that the woman who birthed me no longer deserved the affection of the man whos love created me?" A rdr fanfiction.

A short fanfiction about Jack Marston.

My uncle stood next to me, the brim of his hat shielded his eyes from the sun coming down from above. He held a fishing pole in his hand, his line ended somewhere out in the middle of the river where he had thrown it. My line is only half his length, my small arms could not handle more, he had caught three fish, I had yet to catch anything. I found fishing boring, the flowers in the grass further up the shore looked pretty, they made a nice necklace to mama.

Father, I can’t help but remember that day when you asked me to fish with you, when you grabbed the bucket and the two fishing rods. You looked awkward, but happy somehow, you didn’t quite know what to do with me, I didn’t quite know what to feel. I still found fishing boring but caught a fish before you did, you were impressed and I was unsuccessful in keeping spite from my voice when I told you it was uncle who taught me. You simply replied “oh did he now?”

Uncle was never a good fisherman, yet the day he taught me he told me I was the second little boy he had taught to fish, I used to wonder why I didn’t have a cousin if that was so, but with time it simply made me realise why he hated you.

He died eight years prior to that fishing trip with you father, meaning it had been eight years since my first fishing trip. I had been just four and when I stood with the rod in my hands again I had been just twelve, it had been just eight years since uncles death, you barely talk about him, your brother, I barely remember what he looks like, but I remember what I had seen him as; my father. He brought me a comic book, and I drew him a drawing of a family, it had been him who had taken the place of the father, not you, I carried not his blood but to me he was my father.

It has been eight years, eight years since your eyes last held disgust, eight years since you last yelled at me, eight years since you decided that you wanted to be my father.

While I forgave I never forgot and I never stopped wondering. Oh father, what did I do for you to reject me? What did I do to be unworthy of your love and why was it first when you decided I fit into your life that you allowed me to be your son? Whatever could a child still growing in the womb have done to make you hate it? I am a creation of love, I shared the blood of the woman you held dear, yet that affection not only did not extent to me it was also cut off from her when she came to carry me.

Am I somehow so terrible that the woman who birthed me no longer deserved the affection of the man whos love created me?

Father, did you forget? That day on the riverbed, had you forgetten the way you used to look at me? The way you never even tried to hide your disgust but would shout it so everyone would hear, you were so ashamed by me that you chose to humiliate your son of four years in front of everyone in the area. I cried to mama that day because my child brain did not understand that you hated her just as much as you did me, that she was just as hurt by the way you shouted at her as I was by the way you looked at me.

Father, did you know I used to hide in my aunt’s skirts yet I could still hear the sound when she slapped your cheek through the fabric? I remember it even now though she has not laid her hand on you for eight years, she wanted you to accept me. I was too young to know then, but I now know what she meant when she said “I don’t care how you feel about me, but at least make an effort with the boy.” Did you yell at her for telling you to love me?

Father, did you know I don’t react to my own name? The one we share? The one given to me by my mother before you decided to give me a nickname because the idea that the two of us would share four letters made you angry? I have never once been called by our name, though it has always been a dream of mine.

When you speak to me, you speak as if your voice has never carried anything but love, I wish it was the truth, and although I am happy it doesn’t give sour comments no more I can’t help but wonder when you decided I was worth your time? Was it first when you saw someone else take the role you had taken for granted?

I know the man you called father, the man I called grandfather, never carried your blood and you never his, yet it was also him you drew on drawings and it was him you taught you to fish. We are similar in that sense and because of that I can’t help but wonder when you took me to that riverbed, did you hope you could teach me to fish?

[deathbxnny]

jingyuan, dan heng blade and gepard with s/o who loves call A N Y O N E pet names, how would they act when they feel jealous about and but if they will tell its to their s/o they are kinda oblivious thinking they are just being nice:((( dont make it sad please, thank u!!

-----♡

A/N: This is honestly so cute to think about, so thank you for this request!<33

Content: Fluff, jealousy, pet names, reader being a little clueless, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread!))

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

He doesn't mind it at first, finding your friendliness quite cute and endearing. It was just something you did, something that was normal to your character. And most people took it in a friendly way too... until he noticed, that some took it as something more than that.

He would never tell you to stop doing something you obviously seem to like doing. But he began growing irritated by the people that went out of their way to hit on you, once you gave them a nickname.

You were so oblivious, that you just thought that you were doing a nice thing. And Jing Yuan thought so too, but alas, he'd still eventually tell you to maybe limit the nicknames to very important people. Like him ofcourse.

He didn't even notice his own jealously, until you teasingly called him out on it. He'd just chuckle, agreeing lightly that he perhaps was a little jealous, but that he was also worried someone would take advantage of you.

At least the talk was effective and made you stop giving everything you see a nickname. Only he deserves them anyways, in his eyes.

-----♡

》Blade

Your friendliness and kindness is what drew him into you in the first place. But that also meant, that he became very possessive over that aspect of you and wouldn't tolerate you sharing that warmth with anyone else.

So you going around giving everyone a pet name wouldn't last very long on his watch. He'll try to tell you to kindly stop it and just shower him with the pet names instead. This intrigued you, as he at first didn't like them much.

But his jealousy seemed to get the best of him and you found it absolutely adorable. Yet you still try and argue, that you were just being nice, which he doesn't really understand. Why would you be nice to anyone but him anyways?

Thankfully, you find him quite adorable like this and promise to knock it off, as long as you get to call him anything you want. Even if the pet names are embarrassing and you're in public.

You're lucky, that he loves you. You truly are.

-----♡

》Dan Heng

He doesn't particularly understand why you're giving everyone pet names and might even bluntly tell you to stop. Yet when you explain to him, that you were just being nice to everyone, he begins to wonder if he was the problem.

Yet he can't help but feel this burning jealousy in his heart, whenever you give a person a nickname, that is obviously into you. They don't deserve your kindness and so he makes sure you understand his reasonings for wanting you to stop. He just wants to keep you safe after all.

You find his jealousy quote adorable and agree to stop it eventually, mainly because you didn't want him to blame himself for having such strong emotions. Besides, what he said seemed to be true and he deserves your pet names the most anyways.

He gets quite flustered, when you just give him multiple one day, yet thanks you for each one gratefully.

-----♡

》Gepard Landau

He honestly doesn't mind it at all and tries ignoring his jealousy for the most part. Your kindness and warmth makes the world seem brighter, so who was he to take it away?

Besides, you seemed to have innocent and friendly intentions that he admired greatly, so he let's you be and do as you please. The last thing he wants, is to come off as controlling.

But eventually, it does get to him, mainly because he knows that many people are pinning after you as is and your need to give everyone a pet name was making it hard for him to keep everyone away from you.

So one day, he sits you down and tells you as such, reassuring you kindly that he didn't want to force you to anything, but would just like it if you called him all the pet names instead.

Once you giggle and call him out on his jealousy, he usually vehemently denies it. But his blush unfortunately give him away.

-----♡

A/N: I hope this was okay! Thank you again for the request!<33