#but enough to spill into the hallway and sit probably for hours

[c4tto626]

don't you love it when you get hit by multiple financial emergencies (vet visit, broken washing machine, water damage) within a couple days and you're down to like 50€ with more than half the month plus christmas family visits still to go? bc i absolutely love it and am totally not freaking out right now :)

[demonvibez]

Hello, I came here to ask you a request: Mc is wearing a pajama (nightgown, little shorts, whatever you want) that shows a little bit too much. So one day, Mc comes down to the kitchen in the middle of the night, taking advantage about the brothers sleeping in their rooms so no one would see her like this, and suddenly, she bump into one of the brothers. How would they react?

A/N: Thank you so much for this request, and sorry for the delay! I started working on it, got writer's blocked, solved the block, then got...inspired, lol. This ended up being like 8 lil narrative one shots. Anyways - This is only part one of two; hope you like! ♡

Characters: [Lucifer / Mammon / Leviathan / Satan] x F! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k+

Rating: Teen [Suggestive Themes]

Tags: suggestive/sexual themes, making out, light petting/groping, reader = she/her pronouns, each demon has a lil backstory

[Part One of Two - Read Part Two Here]

It was late at night in the House of Lamentation, and you had just finished preparing yourself for bed. You had finished your homework for the day, as well as your nighttime routine, and it was time for you to settle down. Just as you sit down on the edge of your bed, you start thinking about how it would be nice to have a quick little snack before you turn in to sleep for the night. Picking up your DDD from the nightstand, you check the time to see just how late it was. You decide that it was probably late enough for everyone to be asleep, and it was safe to venture out into the house alone with what you are wearing - a skimpy spaghetti strap tank top and tiny shorts that leave little to the imagination. You push yourself up off the bed and cross the room, making your way towards the door. Leaving your bedroom door open, you make your way towards the kitchen next door . . .

For the Avatar of Pride, staying up late and overworking himself was a normal part of his daily routine. Usually after dinner, he hides himself away in his study so that he can start working his way through the mountains of paperwork sent to him from his superiors. Usually every night, he has the same routine - he finishes his RAD related paperwork, takes a break to patrol the House, stops by the kitchen for a cup of Hell Coffee and then back up to his study to deal with the paperwork associated with his political duties. 

Lucifer starts making his way down the hall for his nightly rounds through the House, as he normally does at this hour. He usually does this in order to make sure his brothers’ mischief was kept at a minimum, but it’s in order to keep you safe as well. He couldn't help but to notice that the chaos in their House had increased quite a bit since you had arrived - some of it from his brothers dragging you into their antics, some of it chaos created all on your own, and some of it external chaos that seeks to consume your beautifully shiny soul. When you first arrived here, you used to be a major source of his headaches. He used to struggle with how to punish you, seeing as you were the fragile little human sent here for Lord Diavolo's exchange mission. But now, the more Lucifer thinks about you, he cannot deny to himself the fondness that has grown for you within his heart. A smile twitches at his lips for a brief moment before he refocuses himself on his task.

Just as he is making his way down the stairs to check the first floor, he hears a noise coming from the kitchen area, a faint glow emitting from its frame and spilling into the hallway. He lets out an exasperated sigh to himself, believing it to be Beelzebub on one of his frivolous late night snack missions. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he strides towards the kitchen door, scripting the lecture he wants to give in his mind as he walks. How many times must he punish the Sixth Born? 

When he reaches the doorway, he halts at the unexpected sight before him, and he can’t help but to stand back and observe. He sees you in the kitchen, illuminated by the light of the refrigerator, looking through what’s left of its contents for a snack. You look so innocent while doing so, completely unaware of your surroundings. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this - hell, he wasn’t even used to seeing you dressed like this. Usually dressed in your RAD uniform, the attire you were currently wearing is much more revealing than what he is used to seeing you in. The way the thin cotton fabric clings to your curves, he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming your entire body. You grab something from the fridge, closing it before making your way over to the kitchen island with the leftover Acidic Hell Fries you found. Sitting down with your back turned to the door, you open up the tray and lean in to take a bite, all the while Lucifer can’t help but notice the way your shirt rides up the arch of your back, the way the waistband of your shorts sit right at your hip, the way your skin just looks so soft. He wasn’t sure how a human could stir up such emotions in him, but he was in fact curious to see where it would take him. 

In a rare moment of impulsivity, Lucifer swiftly makes his way towards you. Before you even have time to register the Avatar of Pride's presence, he sets both of his hands on the table on each side of you, effectively trapping you between him and the counter. He leans down closer to your ear, the scent of his cologne filling your senses, as he whispers your name into your ear with a very seductive tone. "What do you think you're doing here," he asks, his tone husky as you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning against your skin. Your pulse accelerates as he presses his lips to your earlobe, his gloved hands now slowly finding their way around your waist as Lucifer trails light kisses down the soft flesh of your neck. You would usually have some sort of snarky comeback for Lucifer, stating how it was obvious why you were in the kitchen shoveling fries into your face at half past midnight. But in this moment you couldn't muster up a retort, your brain beginning to fog up with the haze of pleasure that Lucifer's touch can bring. As he continued to tease your neck, occasionally nipping at it with his fangs, his hands began to drift lower on your body, lightly teasing at your waistband. One of his hands pulls your chin up to him, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips collide with yours in a way that sets your soul ablaze with passion.

He slowly pulls away from the kiss, your eyes slowly opening to see his crimson orbs gazing back at you with lust, love and admiration. He slightly loosens his hold on you, before turning you around on the barstool you sat upon to face him. He brushes the hair out of your eyes, tucking it back behind your ear before leaning down to press one more kiss on your lips. When he pulled away this time, you chased his lips with his own, filling him with a sense of pride at the idea that you're craving more of him - much like he craves more of you. He lets out a small chuckle before suddenly sweeping you up in his arms, your legs dangling over one side while your arms instinctively wrap around his neck for safety.  "We're heading straight to my room," he said along with your name in a confident tone, "and I hope you have plenty of energy, because we won't be getting much sleep tonight." He carried you out of the kitchen and up the stairs, taking no time getting you to his room and into his silk sheets. 

Mammon had just recently arrived home about an hour ago from one of his many side hustles he did to help earn some extra Grimm and pay back a few of his debts. The witches have been hassling him even more than normal recently, threatening a variety of curses if he doesn't comply with their demands, so he's had to take up multiple side hustles in order to make enough money. He could have sworn he paid them off a while ago - math is one of Mammon's strong suits and he always keeps his debt ledger up to date. He's pretty damn sure the witches are just jealous of you, and take it out on him one of the few ways they know will work. They would never mess with you directly - and risk earning the wrath of all seven Avatars of Sin? And perhaps even the Future King of the Devildom himself? Hell nah. They'll just keep toying with Mammon the way they know best.

Normally, Mammon would be pretty exhausted after a grueling shift of serving tables at Hell’s Kitchen, but tonight for some reason, he was feeling restless and couldn’t seem to settle down. He had completed his nightly routine and settled into bed, but he found himself feeling restless, scrolling Devilgram instead and finding himself growing bored rather quickly. After tossing and turning in his bed for what felt to him like an eternity, he let out an annoyed groan and pushed himself out of bed. If he couldn’t lull himself to sleep, he might as well go find his favorite human. He crossed the room to pick up his designer underwear and sweatpants off the couch, slipping them both on before making his way to the door. Once his door is closed, he starts briskly but silently making his way across the hall and down the stairs, doing his best to avoid running into any of his brothers - namely, Lucifer. 

Making a beeline straight for your room, Mammon notices the door is open and just walks inside as if he owns the place. “Oi, human! I’m bored, why don't ya-” he says, before looking around to see that the room is actually empty. “Where the hell even are ya,” he mumbles to himself with an exasperated huff, turning about-face and exiting your room. As he steps out into the hallway, he finally notices the kitchen light is on. He starts stomping his way over to the kitchen, mumbling something about how much work it is to watch after one stupid little human, when he crosses the threshold of the door and almost bumps into you as he is turning the corner. "Aye, what gives," he says in an almost shouting tone, "ya gotta watch it, human! Ya gotta be more careful! Ya ain't always gonna have the Great Mammon to..." he trailed off as he finally looks down at you, taking in fully just how you look and what you are wearing. His eyes widen and his jaw drops, standing there completely frozen in shock as his eyes scan you up and down repetitively. 

Despite the many times the two of you have shared a bed, he has never seen you wear something so small and form fitting as pajamas before. Usually when he was over, you'd just wear an oversized tee shirt and some baggy sweatpants, which was usually cute and endearing in its own way. But tonight, since you assumed you would be spending the night alone, you wore something you thought no one would see you in. And now here you are in the kitchen, the Avatar of Greed stood in front of you, a blushing and stammering mess. The more of his golden eyes took in of you, the more he could feel the greed rise up within him. Every little inch of skin, every little curve of your body has Mammon craving more and more, his avarice knowing no bounds when it comes to you. Typically, in moments like these, the tsundere side of Mammon's brain would kick in, and a flurry of denials would leave his lips before you could even playfully accuse him of anything. Seeing you like this has Mammon forgetting all about those silly habits, his mind focused on wanting only one thing - you.

In this moment, Mammon can't help but succumb to his greed. His hands reach out to pull you into his bare chest, his demon form now on full display and eyes glowing as gold as Grimm. His arms tighten around you in a possessive hold as he buries his face in your hair, your scent as intoxicating to him as the most expensive Demonus on record. You feel his hands roam your body, feeling both his soft skin and his rings' hard metal gliding up and down your back. You melt into his touch, your arms instinctively wrapping around his torso.  "I've been lookin' for ya," he mumbles into your hair. Before you can even fathom a response, Mammon's hands find their way under your ass, hoisting you up and setting you on the counter. He leans in and presses his lips to yours with a sense urgency you hadn't seen from the Avatar of Greed previously, his yearning and need for you growing with each kiss. As his tongue brushes your lips, they part and allow him entrance, and the way your two tongues dance with each other sends Mammon over the edge, feeling that same greed start to build within you. Mammon's kisses became hungrier and sloppier the more he could feel his sin in the air, a hint of lust mixing with it as his hands squeeze your ass, your own hands roaming his beautifully brown torso. "Mine," he states simply, as he breaks the kiss momentarily. 

He picks you up once again, your legs squeezing his waist as you fling your arms around his neck. He runs off with you to his room to have his way with you - and to hoard you to himself like the Devildom's finest treasure.

It wasn’t at all unusual for Leviathan to stay up all hours of the night. On this night in particular he was counting down the hours until the newest merch drop from his favorite idol group, Sucre Frenzy. He picks up his Bufo Egg Milk Tea to take a sip, only to hear the slurping sound of his cup being empty. Looking at the clock at the bottom right of his monitor, he mentally notes that he still has an hour and a half before the drop, which should be more than enough time to run downstairs and raid the fridge. He presses pause on the song he was listening to on Devilfy, pulling off his headset and making his way out of his bedroom door. He pulls his DDD out of the pocket of his hoodie, swiping it open and pressing on the 'Mononoke Land' app. Checking to see if there were currently any in-game spirits lurking in the House, Levi games as he presses forward towards the kitchen, his own IRL mission falling to the back of his mind as he continued to focus on the side quest on his phone. One hand in his pocket while the other clutches his device, his tail slides along the handrail of the staircase, making sure he doesn't stumble as he tunes out the rest of the world. 

He really hopes you can make it to hang out for the drop tonight! When he invited you at dinner you seemed interested, but you told him you weren't sure if you'd be able to stay awake that late or not. He would really love it if you are able to - everything is more enjoyable for the Lord of Shadows when he has his Henry by his side! It makes him excited even thinking about it! Maybe he'll swing by your room on the way back from the kitchen and see if you're awake! Or...that maybe awkward? What if you're asleep and he wakes you up? What if he annoys you? Maybe he'll just send you a text instead. Either way, he loves you more than all of his anime combined, and it would be the highlight of his entire month to spend tonight's event with you.

Refocusing on his game, he turns the corner to cut back towards the kitchen. He doesn't even notice the kitchen light on ahead, nor does he hear the clattering and clanking coming from inside. All he can seem to focus on is Mononoke Land. As he walks past your room, he does a double take, expecting to see you in your bed. On second glance, he notices you missing from your room, and Leviathan couldn't help but be confused as he pauses in your doorway. It's almost one in the morning and you aren't in your room?! Where in the Devildom could you possibly be?! You're probably hanging out with one of his brothers, aren't you?! You're probably in one of their rooms, in one of their beds, doing Dia knows what while he's down here getting some stupid snacks for his stupid merch drop. 'Stupid stupid stupid I'm so stupid! Of COURSE she wouldn't want to waste time her time with a disgusting otaku like me! IT'S NOT FAIR IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR!!' A wave of envy washes over him so powerful that he fights everything within himself not to summon Lotan and flood the House. His fists clench his DDD, stressing it from the pressure as his knuckles turn white. His eyes blaze a bright orange as jealousy rages within him like a hurricane brewing over the sea.  

Wanting nothing more than to barricade himself in his room and never come out, Leviathan angrily marched onward towards the kitchen, determined to get his snacks and get the hell back to his room so he can wallow in his feelings. Hastily making his way through the kitchen's threshold, he doesn't see you as he barrels straight into you, knocking you backwards. Before his mind can fully process what's going on, his tail grabs ahold of you, wrapping around your waist and preventing you from hitting the floor. His eyes finally connect with yours, and he realizes that it's you he has run into. A quick scan of the room tells him you had been in here alone, and suddenly he feels foolish for the jealous tantrum he was throwing in his mind. 

"I-I'm s-s-sorry...I didn't see y-you th-" he stammers, now looking down at you to see exactly what you were dressed in. Is this what you normally wear to bed? Levi hadn't ever seen anything like it in real life. The way the fabric highlights all of your best features, putting just the right amount of emphasis on how perfect your curves were...he could have sworn you were drawn by his favorite manga artist. His eyes roamed your body up and down, his face heating up as rapidly as his heart rate is rising. 'OH FUCK, I'm staring aren't I?! She probably hates me, I'm so gross, such a worthless perv, I need to stop staring WHATTHEFUCKDOIDO?!?' he panics internally, his hands starting to tremble. He tilts his head down to focus on the floor, when he finally processes that his tail has been autonomously wrapped around your waist the entire time. "I'M SO SORRY," he half shouts at you, as he starts to unravel his tail. 

Suddenly, Levi takes pause, as he hears you gently call out his name, one of your hands resting on his tail while the other reaches out to stroke his cheek. "Levi...whatever you're thinking right now...stop," you reassured him. Before he could hide his face from you, you leaned in to press your lips to his in a soft but loving kiss. At first, Levi just stands there frozen in shock but after a moment he kisses you back. He's still unsure of what to do with himself - he doesn't want to ruin this moment - but he doesn't want it to end either, so he stands with his hands awkwardly at his sides and pours every ounce of love of passion he can into the kiss. While he may not know what to do with his hands, his tail seemed to enjoy exploring your body, causing you to let out a tiny soft moan when it makes its way around the top of your thigh. You wrap your arms around his neck, continuing the kiss as you press your body against his. 

After a few more moments, the two of you pull away from each other, both trying to catch your breaths. Before Leviathan could even muster a response, you grab his hand, the sweetest of smiles plastered across your face. "Come on, let's go to your room, Levia-chan. I can think of a few ways for us to kill time until your merch drop launches," you said as you start pulling him towards the door. Suddenly you weren't tired, and Levi didn't care about the snacks - with you, he may even end up forgetting about the merch drop.

Before you had even thought of grabbing a snack from the kitchen, Satan had already made his way down there and was rifling his way through the fridge looking for something suitable to feed his secret kitten friend out in the garden. Earlier in the night, Satan came outside to the garden in order to calm down and let his inner rage subside. He had wanted to spend the remainder of his evening with you curled up in his lap as he reads to you, a warm fire crackling in the fireplace nearby, as the two of you ignore the world for each other and a great plotline - there was no other way he'd rather spend his evening. But of course, his insufferable eldest brother had to stick his prideful nose in where it didn't belong and drag you away, just as he was asking you to join him after dinner. It was almost as if the Avatar of Pride has an extra sense for when Satan wanted alone time with you, always interfering and coming up with some smug excuse as to why you need to be stolen away right when Satan needs you. That pompous ass was always going out of his way to stoke the flames of Satan's wrath on purpose! 'One day he'll get back at that bastard, he'll put him right in his place!'  

Satan continued pacing in circles in the garden, his demon form on full display as rage flows through him like an ice river through one of the lower pits of hell. He wasn't doing the best job at calming himself down at first, you not being there to help ground him, so it was taking a bit longer than normal. It was always so much easier to calm himself with you there - just a few simple words or a quick hug usually doing the trick. But for now he was alone, and he was drawing a blank on what he else should do. He completed one more pace around the garden before, before letting out an annoyed huff and sat himself down on the nearest bench. As he was about to pull out his DDD to text you to see where you were, he hears a rustling in the bushes. His emerald eyes scan the area, no signs of life immediately apparently, before he sees a pair of glowing eyes peer out at him from underneath one of the bushes. A small smile tugs at his lips as it dawns on him who the eyes belong to - one of his stray feline friends that likes to wander through every now and then. He pushes himself up off the bench and slowly crosses over towards the cat, holding out his hand as he tries to coax it out of the bush. The cat immediately starts to back into the bush, shaking it's head at Satan, causing him to take pause. He chuckles to himself as he comes to the realization of what she is asking for - the cat wants a treat. 

Satan straightens himself up, making his way back into the House to find some cat friendly snacks in the kitchen. When he arrives there, he is alone, and makes a beeline straight for the fridge. It was usually wishful thinking for anyone in the House of Lamentation to try to hide food in the kitchen, but sometimes Satan was able to get away with it for the sake of his kitten buddies. Crouching down to open the bottom drawer, Satan reaches in to pull out some of the Devildom cat treats he had stashed back behind the drawer. Setting the pouch of treats on the counter, he opens up one of the cupboards and pours what is left of the treats onto a saucer, before tossing the empty wrapper in the trash and making his way towards the kitchen door. Little did he expect in all of this, you came walking through the door at the same time, neither of you really paying attention. Before either of you can stop yourselves, you quite literally run into each other, the saucer of meaty cat treats smooshing against Satan's chest and then dropping to the floor. Satan can feel his wrath rising inside him once again, drenching him like an ice cold shower, his aura turning dark as his demon form makes an appearance once again. He hasn't even looked up to see who caused the collision, assuming one of his brothers is to blame yet again, his jaw clenching as his mind races to formulate it's retaliation. 

His glowing green eyes finally lift to see exactly who the guilty party is, only for his eyes to meet yours instead. You begin to stammer out a stream of apologies, but seeing you immediately calms the inner turmoil of his mind, the storm suddenly calm within him. 

His gazes roams over you for a moment, Satan suddenly finding himself speechless as he takes in exactly how breathtaking you look in such casual attire. The way straps of your tank top accentuate your collar bones, giving way to how the fabric hugs your perfect chest...Satan suddenly couldn't remember what he was mad about in any point in the day. He couldn't even bother to care why he was in the kitchen in the first place. He gently takes one of your hands with both of his, raising it to his lips to press a kiss into your knuckles. A warm smile spreads across his face as his hands find your hips, pulling you closer into him. One of his hands moves to rub the small of your back as the other tilts your chin upwards to him. He holds your gaze for a moment, adoration apparent in his eyes, before he leans in to share a passionate kiss with you. 

The moment his lips caress your own, your heartbeat goes through the roof, and you can't help but to lean into him and melt into his touch. His hand on your chin moves to hold the back of your neck, his tongue brushing your bottom lip, asking for more. Your hands find themselves on his chest as your lips back, your tongues clashing together in a desperate bid to feel more of each other. Your hands slide down his chest and abs, lightly tugging at his belt when you get to his waist. He chuckles into the kiss before nipping at your bottom lip with one of his fangs, grabbing your hips with both hands as he slows the pace of the kiss. 

Eventually he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on yours. "You always know how to make me feel better, kitten," he said as you slide your hands up his front and lace them behind his neck. "What do you say we retreat to my room to continue this encounter?" he leans in to steal one more kiss from you lips before taking you by the hand and pulling you up to his room.

· demonvibez ♡ 2023 · do not copy, repost or modify ·

· likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

[planet-marz1]

Our Little Sheep

Summary: You and Joel celebrate christmas with your many children Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Word Count: ~4.1k

Tags/Warnings:18+MDNI no use of y/n, implied age gap(not specified), reader is able to get pregnant, jackson!joel, peepaw!joel(really peepaw), mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of childbirth (nothing graphic), brief mentions of breastfeeding (again, nothing graphic) Lots of fluff & cuteness, Joel being a cute girl dad™, this seems like it should be a crackfic, but I promise It's so wholesome

A/N: Ok so this fic idea was born out of my cold medicine induced haze, so bear with me here guys. It's just a silly little fic, not meant to be taken seriously at all, and It's the most fun I've had writing in a bit, so I hope you enjoy reading! Just a little clarity here, the kids' ages range from 0 to 9. I know it gets all confusing here, so I am welcome to provide any further clarity if anyone needs it! A huge thank you to @catchallfangirl for helping with the naming of all of these gremlins & with the constant encouragement ❤️ Thank you to @fhatbhabie for beta reading!

lovely dividers by @pamasaur

| main masterlist | ao3 link | follow my fic updates blog @planetmarz1-notifs

You open your eyes slightly, squinting them. Joel sleeps peacefully next to you, his breaths even and steady. Burrowing yourself further under the blankets, you scoot closer to him, your head on his chest and intertwining your legs with his. You run your fingers through the curls of his now, fully gray hair.

Slight whines start to fill the room, and you lift your head up and glance over your shoulder to peek into the bassinet next to your side of the bed. Joel had been up with the baby all night after you two had finished wrapping up the gifts for the other kids. So, you groggily sit up in bed, reaching over to pick up the tiny little infant.

“Shhh, It’s alright, little one.” You whisper quietly, trying to calm him. After a few attempts to shush him, it’s still not working. He’s probably hungry, you figure. Lifting your shirt, you help him latch onto your breast, and he finally calms. You sigh quietly with relief. It’s all a part of the process, you try to remind yourself. Little baby Joelseph had only been born a few weeks ago. No, his name isn’t actually Joelseph. Simply a nickname given to him by his many older sisters when you had been pregnant with him. It started as a cute joke, but sure enough he came into the world, and no one was able to call him by his proper name. Named after his father, but considering the chaos of your family, the nickname is simply just another thing that you don’t bother to fight to keep the peace in the house.

The early hours of the morning are usually the small period of time when the house is completely silent. Every other waking minute is filled with the sounds of the kids, either giggling, or fighting with each other over something. Though, silence isn’t always a good thing. You’ll never forget the time the kids got into the kitchen cupboards and practically wreaked havoc in the kitchen while you were outside tending to the sheep.

Sure enough, you hear the trampling of footsteps coming down the hallway. No matter how chaotic it may be, this is your favorite part of the day. Getting to start each day greeted by all of your beautiful children, reminding you of why you are so lucky. You softly graze your fingers over the baby’s hair.

“I think your sisters are here, little guy,” You chuckle softly. The doorknob jiggles a bit. Before all of your daughters begin to spill into your bedroom, all eleven of them. Yes, eleven. You and Joel had, admittedly, gotten out of control in that department.

You and Joel had met when he had returned to Jackson in the spring with Ellie in tow. It had been an immediate connection, quite literally. Hooking up one night in the bathroom of the Tipsy Bison, which is what led to your firstborn, Emilie. The pregnancy had come as a shock, but you and Joel were excited nonetheless.

A chorus of variations of “Mom,” or “Mommy,” begin to fill the room, and you try to shush the girls, reminding them of their little brother. “Ok, girls, I know that you’re excited to get downstairs to all of your gifts, but you’ve got to settle down a bit, alright?” You whisper gently. Finally, they all nod in understanding. The calm is short-lived, though. Jane and Jules, the cutest, but menacing pair of instigators, hop on to your bed, shaking Joel’s shoulder, trying to wake their father.

They were your fourth pregnancy, which was by far the most difficult one you had ever experienced. Constant discomfort, and sleepless nights from the relentless kicking and movement from them. It wasn’t the first time you had been pregnant with twins, but It had gone nothing like you had expected it to.

Joel, though typically a light sleeper, is particularly hard to wake after a night with no sleep, hence why you’d opted on letting him sleep in. The two of them, each on one side of him, lean in close to his face, leaving little room for personal space. “Daddy.” Jules says quietly, Jane keeping a close watch.

Joel peeks one eye open, a bit startled at first at the heavy breathing from the two girls so close to his face, but the confused expression on his face is quickly replaced by a tired grin. As soon as all the girls spot that their father has woken up, they all pile onto your bed, excitedly squealing and giggling. Luckily, little baby Joelseph had already been lulled into a deep sleep after he finished nursing. Even if he hadn’t, you're pretty sure the few short weeks he’s been in the world, he’s already used to the constant noise and chaos from his older sisters.

Joel sits up on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, and tries to wrap his arm as many of them as humanly possible.

“When can we open our presents, daddy?” Tiny little Aurora questions impatiently. This is the first year she’s been able to fully understand the concept of Christmas, and all the gift giving. So, understandably, she is ecstatic for all the festivities of the day. She crawls into his lap, after attempting to clamber over all of her sisters in the way. Joel scratches at the scruff of his beard, and lifts her into his lap.

“How about we all eat breakfast first, sweetheart, then you all can tear into your gifts.” He says lowly, his voice still laced with sleep. “Sound like a plan?” He asks. The girls all nod in agreement.

You slowly stand up from the bed, still cradling baby Joelseph in your arms. Walking towards the door, you gesture for the girls to do the same. They all climb off of the bed, and without fail, the house is once again filled with chaos. All eleven of them racing out of your bedroom, and down the staircase to the kitchen.

Joel meets you by the doorway, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Well hello, sleepyhead.” You tease him. “Sleep well?”

“Just like usual, darling.” He kisses you again, this time placing kisses all over your face, and down your neck, before you place your hand gently on his chest stopping him from going any further.

“Not so fast, old man.” you chuckle softly. “We don’t need another one of these.” you say, gesturing down to the baby bundled up in your arms.

“One more wouldn’t hurt, huh?” He teases, and you just shake your head. 

“You say that because you aren’t the one who has to push them out.”

“We should probably get downstairs before they get into stuff that they shouldn’t be” You murmur, and Joel quietly nods in agreement.

The warmth of the morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as you make your way into the dining room. Joel follows you, his hand brushing against the small of your back.

You and Joel enter the dining room, and expectedly the room is already filled with screaming and chaos. Alive with the energy of your daughters, and the two mischievous kittens, Ginny and Joel, weaving in and out of the chaos. 

Emilie, your oldest, is trying to settle an argument between Lacy and Lily, your first set of twins. Nothing new in your household, nearly every morning, no matter how many times you have to tell them that every seat is the same, the kids insist on fighting on who sits where, who sits next to whom. It’s exhausting, but you can’t help but smile at the chaos unfolding before you-it’s simply the routine of your everyday life.

Emilie, with her stern expression, finally manages to resolve the seating dispute between Lacy and Lily. You glance at Joel, and he chuckles, a knowing look passing between you. The girls quickly settle into their chairs, the anticipation of Christmas morning evident in their sparkling eyes. As you take your seat at the head of the table, Joel sits beside you, and the cacophony gradually subsides. Little Aurora, perched on Joel’s lap, swings her legs excitedly, eager to dive into the festivities.

“Alright, everyone, let’s dig in!” you announce with a smile, and the room erupts in cheers. The aroma of the freshly cooked breakfast wafts through the air as the kids eagerly serve themselves.

Emilie diligently helps the younger ones with their breakfast. She occasionally steals glances at the pile of gifts under the Christmas tree, anticipation gleaming in her eyes.

Lacy and Lily are engaged in animated conversation, their excitement palpable. Daisy can’t stop giggling at something Theo whispered in her ear. The second set of twins, Jane and Jules, sit side by side, already plotting mischief as they eye the presents.

Willow, with her big curious eyes, is inspecting her plate with utmost concentration, trying to decide which part of her breakfast to tackle first.

In the midst of the laughter and chatter, you catch Joel’s eye. There’s a shared understanding between you, a silent acknowledgement of the beautiful chaos that is your family. His gaze is filled with gratitude, and you can’t help but feel the same.

As the kids enjoy their breakfast, you steal a moment with Joel. “Can you believe how fast they're growing?” you murmur, your eyes dancing with a mixture of love and exhaustion.

Joel leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Feels like just yesterday we were sneaking around the Tipsy Bison.”

You laugh, the memory of that fateful night vivid in your mind. “Look where it led us.”

Kylie babbles incoherently as she attempts to mimic her older siblings. Aurora still sits on Joel’s lap, her eyes wide with wonder as she takes in the festive scene, and Joel aids her with her breakfast.

Maggie sits contentedly in her high chair, fingers sticky with syrup, as she munches on a piece of a pancake you’ve carefully cut up into small pieces for her.

The kids, fueled by excitement and sugar, chatter animatedly about their plans for the day. You and Joel exchange glances, both silently reveling in the joy of parenthood. The journey hasn’t been easy, but moments like these make it all worthwhile.

As breakfast winds down, you glance at Joel, both of you silently agreeing it’s time for the much-anticipated event of the morning.

The living room is now adorned with brightly wrapped gifts, a colorful display of the love and thoughtfulness you and Joel put into each one. The kids finish their breakfast, their eyes darting eagerly between the tree and the presents.

“Alright, kiddos, let the unwrapping begin!” Joel declares, and the room explodes with excitement. Each of their little faces lighting up with joy. 

“Okay, kiddos, let’s see what Santa brought us this year!” Joel exclaims, and the room erupts in cheers. The kids, now fueled by excitement from their furry friends and a hearty breakfast, rush to the tree, each claiming a spot around the mountain of gifts.

Emily takes charge, distributing gifts to each of her siblings with precision. Paper tears and laughter fill the air as each child discovers the treasures hidden beneath the wrapping.

Lacy and Lily eagerly tear into their presents, sharing excited glances when they unveil matching toys. Daisy clutches a doll close to her heart, and Jane and Jules giggle in delight at the surprise in their packages.

Theo, wide-eyed, unwraps a superhero action figure, and Willow discovers a fluffy stuffed animal that instantly becomes her new best friend. Kylie is overjoyed with a set of building blocks, her imagination already running wild.

Aurora claps her hands in glee as she unwraps a musical toy, and Maggie, though more interested in the wrapping paper than the actual gifts, coos happily.

Daisy twirls with a new dress, her face glowing with delight. “I’m going to wear this everyday!”

Aurora, surrounded by a pile of toys, claps her hands and points excitedly. “Look, Daddy, Mommy, so many toys!” Maggie, with a new plush toy in her tiny hands, giggles with joy. The room is filled with laughter and chatter as the kids excitedly showcase their new treasures.

Jane and Jules squeal in delight as they discover Joel curled up in the tangle of discarded wrapping paper, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. Willow, with her big curious eyes, watches the kittens in fascination, occasionally reaching out to stroke their fur. Kylie bursts into giggles as Ginny playfully bats at a shiny ribbon. Aurora claps her hands in delight at the sight of the playful duo. Maggie points with chubby fingers, her face lighting up with a smile as Joel gracefully leaps onto the back of the couch.

Joel catches your eye, and you share a moment of warmth as you witness the joy on your children’s faces.

“Looks like our little fur balls are the stars of the show today.” He chuckles.

Watching as the kittens continue their playful antics. The room is filled with laughter, shouts of excitement, and the crinkling of wrapping paper.

As the chaos subsides, you lean into Joel, watching the kids with a contented smile. “Merry Christmas, Joel.” He whispers back the same sentiment, wrapping his arm around you, anchoring you in the midst of the joyful storm that is your family.

The room buzzes with the joyous laughter of your children, the kittens weaving throughout the living room. As the kids continue to show off their presents, Ginny and Joel curiously inspect the colorful array of toys and trinkets scattered across the room.

Emilie, your eldest, sits by your side, flipping through her new sketchbook. “Mom, look at this! It’s perfect for my drawings. Thank you, Santa!”

Lacy and Lily, wearing their matching necklaces, approach Joel with enthusiasm. “Dad, Dad! Can Joel play with us too?” they ask, extending an invitation for the adventurous kitten to join in on their imaginative play.

Daisy twirls around in her new dress, and with a dramatic flair, she curtsies. “I’m a princess, just like in the stories!”

Jane and Jules, holding their new board game, insist on a family game night. Jules, gives you a confused look, glancing from the box, and then back up at you. “What is Boggle anyway?” 

“It’s just a word game, sweetheart, definitely an easy game to beat your dad at.” you laugh softly, shooting Joel a teasing grin.

Willow proudly shows you the fluffy stuffed animal she received. “Look Mom, It’s Fluffy! Daddy, feel how soft!” She grabs his hand to place it on the stuffed animal, and Joel enthusiastically plays along with her.

Kylie, engrossed in building her tower with the new blocks, beams with accomplishment. “It’s bigger than me, Mommy!” You smile at her gently, and give her compliments on her tower building skills.

Maggie, in her own little world, squeezes her plush toy and gurgles happily. The kittens, sensing the playful atmosphere, join in on the fun, batting at the discarded ribbons and chasing each other around the room.

Joel, still basking in the warmth of the family scene, leans over to you. “Seems like Santa knew exactly what they wanted.”

You nod, a content smile playing on your lips, ‘And the best part is seeing their faces light up with joy.”

The room is filled with laughter, the sound of wrapping paper being crinkled, and the occasional meow from Ginny and Joel. The chaos is harmonious, a melody of love and togetherness that defines your family.

The kids, their excitement undeterred, start brainstorming plans for the day–games to play, stories to tell, and perhaps a snowball fight if the weather permits. As the festivities continue, you can’t help but feel grateful for the love and warmth that fills your home–a treasure more precious than any gift under the tree.

As the kids reveled in the excitement of unwrapping their Christmas gifts, their attention turned to the chalkboard on the mantle–a poignant memorial to their older sister, Sarah. The room hushed momentarily as the children exchanged thoughtful glances, understanding the significance of the chalkboard.

The kids had put together some artwork and drawings the night before. They gather around the chalkboard, placing their artwork in front of it, creating a beautiful display of love and remembrance. The room, now adorned with their heartfelt tributes, felt infused with a sense of warmth and connection to Sarah’s memory.

Joel, watching from a distance, can't help but be moved by the sincerity and creativity of his children. The simple act of setting their drawings in front of the chalkboard transformed the mantle into a gallery of love—a tangible expression of the enduring impact Sarah's memory had on their hearts.

As the morning continued, the drawings stood as cherished tokens—a beautiful reminder that, even in the midst of joyous celebrations, the love for their sister would always hold a special place in the family's heart.

You nudge Joel gently, catching his attention. “Any Idea when Ellie, Dina, and JJ are planning to arrive?”

Joel looks thoughtful for a moment, his eyes scanning the room to make sure all the kids are engaged in their newfound treasures. “They’re aiming to get here just in time for lunch. Should be any moment now.”

Excitement lights up on your face at the news. “The kids are going to be over the moon to see them again, and It wouldn’t be Christmas without them.”

Joel nods in agreement, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Ellie’s always been good at timing. They’ll be here soon.”

As if on cue, a gentle knock at the door catches your attention. You glance at Joel, both of you sharing a knowing smile. The anticipation in the room heightens as the kids, sensing something special, look toward the door with wide eyes. Moments later, the front door bursts open, and the lively chatter of Ellie and Dina fills the air. The children squeal in delight, dropping their toys and rushing toward the doorway. Ellie enters first, holding JJ’s hand, Dina follows closely behind with a warm grin on her face.

The kids shout at them in unison, enveloping the new arrivals in a sea of hugs and excitement. You and Joel stand back, watching the heartwarming reunion unfold.

Ellie, catching your eye, gives you a knowing nod. “Merry Christmas!” she says as she greets you and Joel. You welcome them with open arms, a surge of joy filling your heart. “We’re so glad you’re here.”

As the laughter and joyful chaos continue to fill the room, you can’t help but marvel at the beautiful tapestry of your family, woven together by love, shared moments, and the bonds that withstand the test of time.

Amidst the joyful commotion, you navigate through the sea of excited children, still cradling little Joelseph in your arms. Joel joins you, and together you watch as Ellie, Dina, and JJ immerse themselves in the holiday cheer.

Ellie, after receiving an enthusiastic welcome from the kids, approaches you with a playful grin.

“How’s the newest little troublemaker doing?” she asks, casting an affectionate glance at Joelseph.

You chuckle, gently rocking the sleeping baby in your arms. “He’s been an angel all morning, surprisingly.” you yawn, tiredly.

Dina joins the conversation, “He’s gotten so big since we last saw him. Mind if we steal him for a bit?”

You nod with a smile, carefully passing Joelseph over to Dina. The little one stirs for a moment, but settles back into a peaceful slumber in Dina’s arms. “He’s all yours.’

The room continues to buzz with giggles and Ellie, Dina, and JJ become a seamless part of the festivities. The kids eagerly show them their new toys, and soon, the kittens, Ginny and Joel join the playful parade.

As the day unfolds, the house becomes a vibrant canvas, painted with the hues of love and togetherness. Joel, now with Aurora on his shoulders, navigates through the lively crowd. You find a quiet moment with Ellie, who is holding Joelseph with a tender smile.

“He’s adorable,” Ellie remarks, her eyes filled with a mix of nostalgia and affection. “Feels like just yesterday you were dealing with my teenage antics.”

You laugh, remembering those not-so-distant days. “Time flies, doesn’t it? Now look at us, and you, with a little family of your own.”

Ellie glances around the room, the sparkle of the holiday lights reflecting in her eyes. “Couldn’t ask for a better way to spend Christmas. And look at Joel, still being the heart and soul of this chaos.”

You follow her gaze to Joel, who is now surrounded by a group of kids, listening intently to one of Jane and Jules’ stories. The love in his eyes is evident as he shares in their laughter and mischief.

Ellie looks back at you, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You both did an amazing job. I’m proud to be part of this.”

And in that moment, as the laughter and warmth of your family envelop you, you couldn’t agree more. This Christmas, with all its magic, has woven another chapter into the rich tapestry of your lives–a chapter filled with love, laughter, and the cherished moments that make your family truly extraordinary.

As the festivities continue, Ellie, still cradling Joelseph, couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease Joel. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she approaches Joel, who’s now attempting to disentangle himself from a knot of kids.

“Hey, old man,” Ellie quips, giving Joel a playful nudge. “You holding up okay with all these little rascals running around?”

Joel chuckles, a playful glint in his eyes. “Someone’s gotta keep ‘em in check. You’ll find out soon enough, Ellie. Parenthood’s no joke.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow, her gaze shifting to Joelseph. “You’re the expert now, huh? It took you guys long enough to figure out the secret recipe for a baby boy.”

Joel grumbles and feigns offense. “Well, it’s not like we had a manual.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Says the guy who needed a football team's worth of daughters before finally getting a son.”

You join in on the banter, giving Joel an amused smile. “Took a bit of trial and error, but look at our charming little Joelseph now.”

Ellie leans in, bouncing the baby gently in her arms. “Not bad for an old guy, huh, kiddo?” she cooed, earning a content gurgle from the baby.

As the day of joyful chaos begin to wind down, the once lively house now settles into a more serene atmosphere. The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree cast a gentle glow over the living room as the laughter of the children gradually transforms into quiet giggles and yawns.

You and Joel, tired but content, herd the kids upstairs for their bedtime routine. The kittens, Ginny and Joel, follow along, their playful antics slowing down as they, too, sensing the impending calm.

“Alright kiddos, time for bed.” Joel announces, his tone gentle but firm as he ushers the kids into their respective rooms.

The procession of bedtime rituals unfold–one by one, teeth are brushed, pajamas are put on, and stories are read. The younger ones nestle into their beds, eyelids growing heavy with the sweet fatigue of a day filled with excitement.

As you check on each child, offering goodnight kisses and tucking them in, Joel moves gracefully through the house, turning off the twinkling lights and closing curtains. The house seems to exhale, the echoes of joyous laughter replaced by the hushed whispers of bedtime.

In the quiet moments between putting the kids to bed, you found Joel in the hallway, sharing a look of satisfaction passing between you. The day had been a whirlwind of love and joy, and now the peaceful hush settles over the house like a comforting blanket.

“Another Christmas for the books,” Joel remarks, his voice low.

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. “And many more to come, I hope.”

The two of you continue the nightly routine, gently closing doors and ensuring the house was ready for the calm of night. The soft glow of the light spilling from your bedroom illuminates your path as you and Joel make your way into the room, where little Joelseph lay sleeping in his bassinet.

Joel pauses by the doorway, his eyes fondly watching the baby. “He’s been the best gift, hasn’t he?”

You nod, a warmth settling in your heart. “The best, indeed.”

The day had been a symphony of chaos and joy, a beautiful crescendo that had now found its resolution in the quietude of the evening. As you and Joel retire to your room, you can’t help but reflect on the blessings of family, love, and the precious moments that make Christmas truly magical.

tag list: @pertinentpostmortem @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @bastardmandenni @chaotic-mystery @beskarandblasters @amanitacowboy @littlegrungegirlaf @pedrodascal @sweetercalypso @ilovepedro @cool-iguana @alwaysmicado @lovers-liability @futuraa-free @morgaussy @pedritoferg @spookykoolkat @wethairjoel @chronically-ghosted @buckyispunk @pattwtf @morning-star-joy @elvinaa @tinycozycomfort @magpiepills @pr0ximamidnight @joelscurls @janaispunk @5oh5 @farmerlarrry @maximoff-forevermore @atinylittlepain @joeldjarin @spookyxsam @mrsmando @hyzer34 @limerence4u @sin-djarin @reddedmiller @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa @kajashe @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @vee-bees-blog @josephquinnswhore @worhols

lmk if you'd like to be removed from the tag list! 💜or let me know if you'd like to be added!

[chiwhorei]

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐞 - 𝐏𝐭. 𝐈: 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Miguel and Peter have been best friends since grade school. You’ve been in love with Miguel for about that long.

He’s messed with every girl on campus, all of your friends, any girl with a pulse except for you- Parker’s adorable little sister. Even so, there’s plenty of ways to get fucked.

|| 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐃 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ||

Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Parker!reader, Peter Parker Tags: Explicit- MDNI, College AU, Brother’s best friend, friends-to-lovers, house party, alcohol, voyeurism with a third party, sloppy oral, degradation, yearning, sarcasm, shared Marbies and the insurmountable melancholy Word count: 3k cross-posted to Ao3!

Thank you for your patience and encouragement, I survived my first case of writers block since being back. -xoxo, chiwhorei

You wobble forward on a pair of heels that pinch a bit too tight. Your favorite pair was lent out to a friend, they matched her outfit better anyway. The runner in the hallway slips under the balls of your feet.

The bathroom, that’s your excuse. His room just happens to be right next to the bathroom. You’ll just peek in to see if he’s hiding from the pounding music and drunk college students trying to talk over it.

The fruity drinks Peter keeps making you are starting to tingle in your cheeks. Miguel calls you a lightweight, but you’ve hardly seen him at all tonight. He’s not a very good host, you think, leaving his party guests to mill about without his company.

Most everyone seems plenty boozed enough to not notice, but you would miss Miguel even if you were sedated. You’re certain you could miss him the same, even if you’d never met him. You curse your own hyperbole, God, drunk you is annoying.

“Mmph,”

A muffled groan spills out of the creak in his bedroom door. Sober you probably wouldn’t creep any closer, but she’s long gone. Plus, you have to walk past it anyway, you remind yourself, to get to the bathroom.

Your eyes wander from their strained focus at the end of the hallway and catch on a familiar complexion. Strong arms hold Miguel’s meal against his bed as it whimpers and squeals, muscles flexing underneath the remainder of his summer tan. The space between the door and its fame is just enough for your face- too much, by far, but the blood under your skin seems to pull you as close as possible without it squeaking open any further.

“Calm down, Mami,” He shushes against her, you can hear how wet his lips are, “we’re not going to get anywhere with you squirming.” Miguel’s voice knocks the air from your lungs, it escapes past your lips in a clumsy gasp.

His stare, deep and unblinking, pins you to the doorframe. You’ve gotten Miguel plenty mad, riled him up more times than you could count- but this is different. It’s red-hot, soldering you to the ground below. It’s not anger, not surprise, not the mixture of both it probably should be.

“P- please, I can’t,” her voice is familiar, even broken around a cry, “I can’t cum again, Miggy.” He kisses up her leg, licking at her ankle as it’s pinned to his chest. Pink strappy heels sit limply against the dip in Miguel’s collarbone- the pair you leant her a few hours prior. They matched her dress better, but that doesn’t seem to be a concern anymore.

Miguel doesn't stop, doesn't flinch. You can hear his mouth as it purrs into her again, see his cheeks sitting high on his face- even behind the thighs that obscure your view. Instead of yelling at you to close the door, Miguel smiles wildly. Evil, in the sweet, tooth-rotting kind of way.

“Aw, Pobrecito,” he coos against her, but the words are shot towards his voyeur, “you can give me one more.”

It feels like a bullet in your chest, friendly fire.

“You’re my good girl, aren’t ya?”

“Hey,” A finger and thumb snap in your blank eyeline to rip you from your thoughts, you jump in your seat at the sound, “Are you listening to me whatsoever?”

“Claro,” Your accent lacks any semblance of confidence. Miguel scoffs, at least some of his work is getting through.

You clear your throat and focus back to the textbook in front of you to read off the next prompt, “Write out a response to the following question, ‘¿Qué haces este fin de semana?’

Miguel snorts in response, and your eyes narrow across the kitchen table. He swallows back the snicker he holds in his mouth, hands up in feigned innocence.

“Vale, but this one’s easy, ‘No tengo planes, porque soy pinche abborito-” You clip his last word, throwing the first thing in reach, your textbook, towards his head- hoping to land a papercut.

Your tudor’s braced for impact, catching it with one hand and laughing at your outburst. You huff, arms crossed and posture falling. Miguel and Peter have your parents old dining room set, your chair wobbles as you sink back in it. Just like it always has.

“I got that, asshole.”

“Well, you could have fooled me,” Miguel slides your book back across the wood between you, “You tested out of Spanish 101 and now you're going to flunk out of 205. What was it, hermanita, clerical error?”

God that nickname digs past your skin and into the nerve endings, eating its way outwards. It wasn’t always like this, was it? You can’t seem to remember a time where his voice didn’t ignite every cell of blood.

He must have a talent for house fires, you think, or maybe you’re just more flammable in the days following your little run-in. You retreat ever further into the wobbly dining chair to create some distance, digging your shoulders into the spoked back.

It feels the same as when you were kids. Slinking into your chair and puffing your chest when you and Miguel would pass insults over the table. Your cheeks feel just as hot, your blood just as cold. You’re 13 again and Miguel just told you that boys aren’t going to want to kiss you and get stuck on your braces.

“I did well on the stupid placement test because it was on paper.” You feel like you’re speaking around that mouth of braces again, “I can understand the vocab and stuff, but our final is all oral.”

“If the final is oral,” Miguel chirps, pulling you closer by the leg of your seat with a splintering screech against the floor, “you might as well just drop the class, mija.”

He’s far too close, your skin might start sizzling. This was a horrible idea, one you’re sure you’ll be paying for later. He might as well put it on your tab.

“I’m just going to go to the tutoring center tomorrow, or try to drop, or fail and lose my spot on the dean’s list.” You go to slam your textbook closed but Miguel’s fingers curl over the spine, spreading out to keep it open.

“Cálmate, you’re not doing any of those,” instead of looking dumbly into his stare, your eyes fix on the rings Miguel wears; one for every long, beautiful finger. He mixes silver and gold, and you can’t decide which metal looks better against his gilded complexion. The things those fingers could do, your eye threatens to twitch at the thought, the places those fingers have been. Nearly all of your friends and the majority of Sorority Row.

“I promised you I’d help, I’m a man of my word,” his tone feels earnest for a beat, and you watch a pointer finger come out to barely graze the hand you’ve still got holding your book. It’s hypnotizing, maybe you shouldn't be so hard on the girls that hang off of his every sentence. All of these years you should’ve been inoculated, and you’re still no better. You might even be fatal.

“Plus, your brother bet me that you’d fail your final.”

Fuck him. And every perfect plane of skin. And that lopsided, toothy grin. And that goddamn laugh that makes you feel undercooked and mushy.

You pull your hand away, moving to stand up but those dangerous fingers curl around your wrist. His touch is so familiar, so easy to get sucked in to, like a rerun of your favorite movie. A physiological horror, maybe.

“C’mon, I bet him that you’d ace it. You’re my smart girl, mi nenita.”

The opening you have to throw a smart remark, or maybe another book, is wasted thinking about if you’re the only one who gets called that.

Miguel drops his grip on you as the front door opens. From the corner of your eye, you see his tongue lick over his bottom lip, just like he does every time he’s won. He must like the taste of your turmoil.

“Is our girl fluent yet, Mig?” Your brother’s presence is booming and a more than welcome distraction. Peter’s hands wrap around your shoulders, pressing his stubbled cheek against your face hard enough to squish your mouth to the side.

“Oh absolutely, she’s on her way to nailing that final. We’ve just got to work on her or-”

“Peter,” your voice interjects, a few octaves higher than what would pass for normal, “you got a lighter? I need a break.”

Your brother pats his jacket pockets a few times before tossing you his zippo. You fumble the catch, nerves rubbed raw and bloody. Don’t give him a reaction. You reclaim a bit of your composure and swipe the pack of Marblo reds from the table.

“Hey! Those are mine,” Miguel’s protest dosen’t reach his eyes, and you can’t hide the pleased smile that he pulls up over your teeth, “fucking brat.”

“Put it on my tab.”

The cement fencing around your brother’s apartment is cold against your ass. Your brother’s lighter sparks a few times before you can light up the cigarette. He should get a new one, but you know he won’t. Peter hates change.

Must run in the family.

It wasn’t always like this, you think against the first pull from Miguel’s cigarette, maybe if I keep ignoring it, we can both pretend it never happened.

What’s longer, death, or a life sentence?

You would have gladly lived and died a lovesick puppy, following your brother and his best friend around like Miguel was leash training. Living in between the moments of your life where he was, where he’s always been. Wrestling in the living room, pretending to hate when he’d gain the upper hand and pin you down helplessly under him. Playing tag, playing house. Calling shotgun in his old mustang, giggling every time your brother tried to argue. “It’s her seat, Peter,” he’d say with his arm over the back of your seat, pulling out of the driveway as if he hadn’t just ripped out your bleeding heart, “get over it.”

You couldn’t tell at first, but that open bedroom door was the last straw bending. The last few moments before the break, the aching stretch as you’re snapped in half. You’re not just Peter’s clumsy kid-sister anymore, you’re the drunk college girl that watched Miguel fucking his tongue into your freshman-year roommate.

You’re the still-drunk girl that walked home alone and touched herself to the memory of his wet smile and lashing tongue. The sobered-up girl that came hard on a toy named after him.

Heavy boots stalk forward, tracing the sidewalk and landing in your eyeline. You take another drag, blowing out into Miguel’s face.

“No fucking manners,” Miguel pulls the cigarette from where it sits between your lips, “what am I going to do with you.”

From where you’re perched, you meet his gaze without having to crane upwards. Miguel’s lips wrap around the stain your lipgloss left. You wonder if he notices, if he likes that taste too.

“I think I’ve had more than enough of you today.” Your quip is half-hearted and falls flatly on the pavement between you.

“Ya know, for someone with a stick shoved up her ass,” Miguel steps closer, taking up the space between either knee, “your posture sucks.”

You straighten your back in protest, but a low tree branch pokes into your spine. A yelp splinters from your throat as the wood catches where your leggings meet your sweatshirt.

Miguel laughs, but leans forward and reaches around your middle to snap the branch from where it’s stuck against your tailbone.

“Told ya.” He flattens his palms against the cool cement, you can feel the warmth of his thumbs on either side of your thighs. Rule number three, Don’t let him get too close. But you’re trapped already, surrounded in three of the four directions.

“I think we need to have a little chat, Mami.”

Maybe if you fall backwards into the tree behind you, you could try to make a break for it. A few scrapes and bruises sounds significantly more palatable.

“I think I’m good, I’ve met my heart-to-heart quota for the year.”

You try to stand, but Miguel’s hands keep your hips down where you’re sitting. You can feel the ridges of his fingers where his rings lie, the warmth of his skin, the slight tremor in his left hand.

“Ay coño,” Miguel tilts his face up to give you a smile, his canines look sharp enough to break skin, “no need to play coy now.”

Flashes of wet lips and borrowed shoes run past your vision. There’s no way you’ll make it out of this conversation in one piece, you feel yourself chipping already.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you yank the cigarette from Miguel as he exhales, blowing his smoke from the side of his mouth. What a gentleman.

“I see,” he tuts. You watch him swipe his tongue across his teeth, it takes every ounce of will to keep you from thinking about how your lip gloss tastes in his mouth.

“Maybe I should bring in an outside perspective, I wonder if Peter saw anything on Saturday.” Miguel stands up straight and spins around to feign walking away, “He can help us track down the creep that was watching me fuck your little friend-“

“I don’t know what you want me to say, O’Hara,” your jaw is clenched hard enough to snap wire, “That I’m sorry? I promise I didn’t see anything? I promise I won’t tell anyone?” At least anger is a little easier than shame. Even if you’re the one in the wrong, it feels evil for Miguel to play with his food like this.

“O’Hara?” He laughs, turning back to face you with crossed arms.

“Well, Parker, I guess I’m just wondering,” Miguel takes the spent cigarette from your hand, pulling the last of it with a final inhale and dropping it onto the ground. You hear the crunch of his boot as he puts it out.

“Did you like what you saw?”

His face is only as far away as your eyelashes, two hands coil around your legs, hiking them up behind your knees. His lips are so close to you that you can taste his gum- cinnamon. A flavor so specific to him, you swear that’s the only reason he likes it.

“No,” your voice is barely above a whisper, speaking to someone you wish couldn’t hear it, “I mean, I wasn’t trying to… watch you. I was going to the bathroom and-“

“And you thought you’d stop by for an anatomy lesson? I only promised I’d help you with Spanish.”

Your eyes prick with frustrated tears, it’s either fess up or fall backwards and make a break for it.

“I was drunk,” your voice is louder than it should be, the arch in Miguel’s eyebrow seems to agree with you.

“I was tired, a- and drunk, and when I walked by your room I was… curious, I guess.”

His hands loosen from where they press into your leggings. He hasn’t let go yet, thumbs now drawing circles into the thin spandex. If his touch wandered any farther, you’d be done for- the damp heat spilling from your center outwards is mear inches from the tips of his fingers.

“Little Parker was curious,” his voice croons, “about what exactly? The birds and the bees? What mommies and daddies do when they love each other?”

Miguel’s waist blocks your legs from twisting over each other, there’s no relief to be found, it seems there never is- for you at least.

“I know what the-” his patronizing widdles down any sharp comeback you’ve got holstered until the points are dull, “I’m not a fucking kid anymore. I’m plenty versed in that area of study, and I definitely don’t need any notes from you.”

You’re not as hopeless as Miguel thinks, your first year of college was spent on any ‘anatomy lessons’ you had still been missing. Underwhelming, unsatisfying, clinical even, but the specifics would be buried next to your grave before you’d give them to Miguel.

“Hey Mig, ya ready to go?” Your brother’s voice almost knocks you from the cement ledge you’re perched on.

Miguel doesn’t falter for a second, whispering into the shell of your ear and punctuating with one last malicious smile. Your skin feels sticky, like you’ve just crawled out of a mouse trap.

The words he moved around his lips are left to echo in the now-empty space in front of you. His Mustang whines as it pulls out of the driveway and you try to shake loose from the grip still searing your thighs.

“Just let me know if you need help studying those more private subjects, I’m known to be quite the tutor.”

©️chiwhorei.2023 || don’t fuck with me I’m so serious

[hippiegoth97]

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. 35

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 34

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafeyscurtainbangs @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @userchai @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @bimbogorewhore

@mediocredreams @bloodibambiidoll @taintedcigs @ali-r3n @emxxblog

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, mentions of smut, smoking, alcohol use, drunk driving, small argument, crying, angst, heartbreak

Word Count: 7.7k

divider by @strangergraphics

Part 35: Wicked Game

Sunday, September 24th, 1989

"Sugarpuff? It's Eddie on the phone again." Mom says through your bedroom door on Sunday morning.

"Just hang up." You manage to say, just loud enough for her to hear. The sound of her footsteps descends back down the hallway, and the phone is placed on the hook without another word. You let out a long sigh, oddly relieved to know Eddie can't get another syllable out.

You haven't slept a wink all night, constantly tossing and turning in your bed while thoughts race through your mind. Thoughts of Eddie's lips on Chrissy's, of how angry and heartbroken it made you feel. Still makes you feel. Every time that image flashes across your mind, you get the intense urge to scream into your pillow. An urge you've entertained a few times, once you were sure it wouldn't make too much noise.

Eddie's called three times in the last couple of hours, all of which you've ignored in one way or another. The first time served as an alarm clock for your mother, forcing her out of bed. You knew exactly who was calling so early, not bothering to move a muscle. You can picture the scene back at the apartment. Eddie, disheveled and sweating in his clothes from the party, having cried all night over you. Broken glass and spilled wine still lay on the floor, as he can't focus on cleaning up any other mess than the one he's made by lying to you. Arwen is no doubt snuggled in his lap as he cradles the phone, frantically dialing your number over and over, before changing his mind.

"I'm making omelets, Y/N. Do you want me to make you one?" Mom asks through the door, still leaving you alone to your thoughts.

"Okay." You call back, forcing the volume despite your vocal chords begging you not to. You feel absolutely awful from lack of sleep, and too much wine, and all this damn crying you can't seem to stop doing. You roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling. If it weren't for your heart being shattered into a million tiny pieces, you'd probably feel completely numb right now. But you swear you can sense the shards worming their way through your chest, lodging in your ribs and muscles on their way out. Everything hurts. You spend so much time fixating on the pain, that you don't even register the next twenty minutes passing until Mom brings you your breakfast.

"It's hot and ready, sweetie." She says, knocking first before opening the door. She brings in a tray to set on your lap, and you take the cue to sit up against the headboard. You keep the blanket tucked beneath your underarms to cover yourself, avoiding her eyes for the time being. "Here you go. Do you need anything else?" She asks sweetly, though the unbelievably blank look on your face quickly sours her on the inside.

"No. Thanks, Mom." You rasp, reaching for the glass of orange juice she's brought you to wet your mouth that feels like sandpaper.

"Okay. Well, just let me know. And I left the phone off the hook. That ought to stop the calls for a while." Mom says, going for the door. You just nod at her words, glancing down at your plate.

Bright yellow egg formed in a perfect half circle smiles back at you on the white ceramic. Steam rises from it, carrying the scent of shredded cheese, mushrooms, and peppers. Your favorite fillings. Nothing about it is particularly appetizing to you, however. The mere thought of putting a single bite into your mouth makes you want to barf. But at the same time, your abdomen cramps up as it begs to be filled with something.

"Ugh." You groan in disgust, picking up your knife and fork. You cut into the fluffy folded disk, melty cheese oozing out of the exposed seams. The sight makes you gag, but you bring the bite to your lips anyway. You force your mouth open, and slide the piece off of your fork with the very tips of your teeth. You carefully bring the food back towards your tongue, allowing it to touch your taste buds after this painstaking process. When you don't immediately projectile vomit all over the bed, you allow yourself to start chewing. You're able to register the flavors you usually enjoy so much, but it all feels...wrong. Like someone made a photocopy of your breakfast, and served that to you instead of the original.

You compel every last bite of the omelet down your throat, putting the empty tray to the side once you're finished. Your stomach stops hurting, and you feel slightly less sick than before. You decide to finally get out of bed, it doesn't help any to lay here feeling sorry for yourself. Besides, you've got a couple assignments to work on. That ought to clear your head for a little bit. You get out from under the covers, going for your suitcase to find some clean clothes. You open the zipper, pulling out a t-shirt, jeans and some underwear. You wish you'd had the forethought to pack some pajamas, but your mind was far more focused on yelling at Eddie. You put the clothing on, and trudge down the hall to the living room where your school things were placed last night. Mom gives you a shocked look, quickly replaced by a relieved smile to see you out of bed.

"How are you feeling, sugarpuff?" She asks, taking a sip of her second cup of coffee.

"A little better. Shit, I'd meant to bring the tray back." You say abruptly, about to turn back to get it.

"It's alright, Y/N. I'll get it for you." She insists.

"Thanks." You reply as you sit on the couch, pulling the coffee table closer to open your textbooks.

"What's your plan for today?" She asks, though she assumes you probably want to be alone. It's very much within your nature to close yourself off to everyone while you're going through something like this. Of course, she wants you to talk to her about anything and everything. But she doesn't want to push you, either. You'll open up, when you're ready.

"This. I've got a couple things due tomorrow." You say, gesturing at the books without looking up.

"Okay, that sounds good. I'll be around if you need anything." She says, leaving you to your work. She retrieves the tray from your room, putting the dishes in the sink to be washed.

The words on the pages of your trigonometry textbook blur and scramble the more you try to focus on them. And your mother making noise in the kitchen isn't exactly helping. You tap your pencil incessantly on the fresh sheet of your notebook, struggling to untangle the equations you're meant to solve. You stare and stare and stare at the numbers and symbols, finding nothing but absolute gibberish. You're growing frustrated, wanting to tear the damn thing to pieces in retaliation. But what good would that do? You'd be completely fucked on your assignment, and out a good chunk of cash on the book itself. You snatch up one of the throw pillows from the couch, shoving your face deep into its plush surface to muffle the loud, guttural sound that begs to leave your lungs. You need assistance, someone to read the pages to you, something. You only hope the person you plan to call is able to help you. You go for the phone, still sitting off the hook. You put the receiver to your ear, and punch in the numbers like your life depends on it.

"Hello?" Robin's voice comes through.

Thank fuck, you think to yourself. "Hey, Rob." You respond.

"Oh, hey, Y/N. Are you doing okay?" She asks, worried by the rather breathless sound of your voice.

"I'm alive." You say dryly. "Are you able to come over? I'm trying to get my assignments done, but I...I can't read anything." You explain, though you realize your problem sounds rather vague over the phone.

"Sure thing. I'll be right over." Robin chirps, not questioning you whatsoever.

"Thanks, Rob. You're a lifesaver." You sigh in relief, allowing a small smile to creep across your lips.

"Of course, Y/N. See ya in a bit."

"Yep." You press the spring-loaded button to end the call, putting the headset back down on the table. Now all you have to do is wait a few minutes, and you'll have the help you need. You only hope Robin won't bring up Eddie while she's here. You can't allow yourself to even think about him right now, because it'll only derail you further.

A little bit later, the doorbell rings. You get up to answer the door, finding Robin on the other side. She immediately takes you in her arms for a hug, squeezing you tight. "Hey, Robin." You squeak, suffocating in her grip.

"How've you been doing?" She asks, letting you out of her grasp so you can breathe.

"Fuckin' terrible." You huff, leading her over to the couch. "But I don't want to talk about that right now. I'm not letting my grades slip because of that..." You trail off, stopping yourself from calling Eddie such a mean name.

"Asshole?" Robin says it for you, completely understanding where you're coming from. You just nod in reply, feeling guilty for agreeing. "It's okay to say what you feel, Y/N. It's better than keeping it all inside." Robin says kindly, taking a seat next to you and looking over the books you've got open. Civics and trigonometry.

"No, I know. I just don't want to unpack all that right now. I've been up all night thinking about it...about them." You pick at your fingers as you speak, swallowing hard at the thought of those two getting 'friendly' again.

"That's okay. Let's focus on your homework instead. Deal?" Robin offers with a smile.

"Deal." You smile back, and move on to the equations. Robin reads them out to you slowly and carefully, and you write them out in your notebook. Thankfully it reads properly coming from your own hand, leaving you able to solve them all in minutes. Next is the short paragraph questions for civics, which are once again a breeze when Robin's friendly rasp verbalizes them for you.

"Well, shit. That was easy. You sure you needed me for this?" Robin asks with a laugh, surprised at your quick mind and immense intellect. She's heard Eddie call you a bookworm before, but it's only now that she sees how true that nickname rings for you.

"Believe me, I did. The damn words kept moving all over the place, I couldn't make sense of anything." You insist, giggling lightly yourself. "Thank you for helping me, Rob. It means a lot." You put your hand over hers in gratitude.

"Please, any time. You have anything else planned for today?" She asks.

"Not a thing, except wallowing in self pity. But I'm not due for that until five." You joke, but Robin doesn't laugh. "Sorry." You sigh.

"No, it's fine. Humor is a common coping mechanism." She reassures you.

"I aced psychology, Robin. I'm well aware." You snort bitterly. You don't mean to be so moody, but you can't help it.

"I'll let the bitchiness slide since you're in pain. But I was gonna suggest we go shopping to take your mind off things." Robin offers, and it sounds like the best idea you've heard in weeks.

"I'm sorry, I know you're just trying to help. And shopping sounds amazing right now." You fix your tone, and your face, trying to cheer up a little for her sake. You doubt she wants to be around a total sad sack all day.

"Let's get a move on, then. Retail therapy awaits!" Robin exclaims, pulling you off the couch. You grab your purse and slip some shoes on as you head out the door. You call to Mom to say you're going out for a while, and she tells you to be safe in response.

Robin drives the both of you downtown, parking on the curb outside Waxed Out Records. You step out of the car, heading into the store together. You browse the aisles, though you're not really sure if there's anything here that'll catch your eye. If you're being honest, everything in here just reminds you of Eddie. The two of you made semi-regular trips here, usually picking up a new metal album for Eddie's collection. And every glimpse you catch of an Ozzy or Vixen album reminds you of his birthday, one of your best days. You made one of his biggest dreams come true, and the night you shared at that cheap hotel afterwards was easily one of your greatest.

"You okay?" Robin asks as she sees you wistfully flicking through records in the heavy metal section. Maybe a music store wasn't the best idea, given how interlaced it's become in your now-jeopardized relationship.

"Hm?" You hum, snapping out of your trance. You turn to meet Robin's eyes, a single tear falling down your cheek. You force a smile and quickly wipe it away. "Oh, yeah! I'm fine." You say, sniffing harshly to keep your nose from dripping.

"Should we go somewhere else?" She offers, realizing that this was probably the last place she should've brought you.

"Please." You punch out the word, trying to stop your lip from trembling.

She leads you out of the store, looking up and down the block for a different destination. But she has no idea where to go, she's sure every damn place in town has some stain of Eddie fucking Munson on it. "Maybe this was a bad idea. I'm sorry." She sighs, giving up on this plan altogether. She leans against the side of her car, and you do as well.

"It's not your fault. I thought I could handle it. But everywhere I look, I just see him." You sniffle again, and Robin puts her arm around you.

"It's alright, Y/N. It hasn't even been an entire day yet, I wouldn't expect you to be fine right away. I'd probably be freaked out if you were." She says with a light laugh, drawing one from you as well. "How 'bout this, we go to the BigBuy and get some tubs of ice cream, and pick up a few chick flicks from Family Video. We can stuff our faces and forget all about him for a while."

"That sounds like a much better plan." You smile. "Can we call Nancy, too? I need both my girls." You pout playfully.

"Hell yeah, we can!" She cheers, nudging you to get back in the car to set your plan into motion. You and Robin make your short stops at the supermarket and the video store, picking up a couple bottles of wine as well to pair with the ice cream. You walk back into your house less than an hour after you'd left, finding mom sitting on the couch watching TV.

"That was fast." Mom says, wondering why you're back so soon.

"Yeah, the shopping trip was a bust. But we're gonna have a girls night with ice cream and sappy movies instead. Care to join us, Ms. Henderson?" Robin offers, holding up the wine you've purchased.

"Please, call me Claudia. And I'd love to, if that's alright with you, Y/N." Mom replies, more than happy to spend some quality time with you and your friends.

"Of course it is, Mom. I need you just as much as I need Rob and Nance right now." You say sweetly.

"Perfect! I'll make popcorn and pizza rolls." Mom chuckles, getting up from her spot to get started on the snacks. Robin makes a quick call to Nancy's home. Thankfully, Nancy has been dying for some girl time, and is all caught up on her work at The Post for the week. She hurries over, bearing sleeping bags and extra pajamas to make this a full-blown slumber party.

You and Robin change into the pj's to get comfortable, and help Nancy lay out the sleeping bags and some pillows and blankets to make the floor a giant pile of comfort and softness. Mom stays on the couch, though, since she's getting a bit old to sit on the floor. By the time you've got the first movie in the VCR and have your snacks laid out, you've completely forgotten all about the horrible things that occurred last night.

The four of you laugh and cry your way through Pretty in Pink, St. Elmo's Fire, and Dirty Dancing. Popcorn is playfully tossed at one another, and wine flows into your glasses liberally. Mom doesn't have any, but you don't blame her. It seems she's chosen the sober life after her run-in with the law. When you're part way through your fourth film of the night, the time closing in around 11pm, you hear the screech of tires in the driveway, and the unmistakable crash of a rear-ending taking place outside.

"What the fuck?" You gasp in surprise at the noise. You, Nancy, and Robin go to the front window to take a peek outside. You find Eddie's van pressed into the end of Nancy's car, broken shards of head and tail lights littering the ground. "Jesus christ." You groan, wondering what the hell he's doing here. You stomp towards the front door, ready to go out there and give him a piece of your mind.

"Y/N, wait. You sure you wanna go out there?" Robin asks, stopping you in your tracks.

"I kinda have to, don't I? I can at least tell him to go away." You sigh, grabbing hold of the door handle. You yank it open, and step outside to get a closer look at the damage. It's minimal, just the broken lights and a couple small dents and scratches. "Eddie! What the fuck are you doing?" You shout to him, noticing he's still in the driver's seat. The window is down however, and his head swivels lazily to look at you.

"Heeeeeey, sweetheart!" He slurs, smiling drunkenly. Great, he's fucking wasted. He struggles to open the driver's side door, and almost falls onto the ground when it finally swings outward. He plants his feet, and ambles his way around the van to come over to you.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You ask with crossed arms. You notice that he's still dressed in his clothes from last night, wrinkled and soaked with sweat. And he absolutely reeks of whiskey.

"I-I came here to see youuuuu, babydoll." He laughs, trying to reach a finger forward to poke your chest. He misses by a mile, hitting the empty space to your left.

"Eddie, you're drunk. You really shouldn't have driven here." You say with a sigh. He's a total mess, he's probably been like this all day.

"But I haaaaad to see you, sweetheart. I had to tell you howwww sorry I am." He continues to slur his words, hiccuping a few times as he speaks.

"I told you I need time to think things over. That means leaving me alone." You reply sternly. "Look, I'll call Steve to come pick you up, alright? I can't let you drive home like this." You turn around to go inside and make the call, but you feel Eddie's sweaty hand close on your arm. He swings you back around to meet his gaze, his eyes dilated and glassy.

"Y/N, pleeeease. I love you, baby. I need you. Arrrrwen needs you. Just come home." He begs, putting his hands on your shoulders. His booze-soaked breath fans in your face, and his words feel like a blow to your heart. You know he's hurting as much as you are, but this isn't helping. You need him to go away, he's only making things worse.

"Eddie, please stop. I can't have any kind of conversation with you like this. You're making a fool of yourself." You say sadly, avoiding his eyes. You can't bear to look at him like this, it's honestly embarrassing.

"I'm making a fool of myself? Riiiight." Eddie scoffs, backing away from you now. His brow furrows, his tone becoming aggressive. "Like you didn't leave me in front of all our friends. Aaaaand for what? 'Cuz I fucked Chrissy? Biiiiiig whoop!" He throws his hands in the air clumsily, they slap against his sides once they come back down. You get a very strong urge to slap him for saying these things, but you know better than to hit him.

"Everything okay out here, Y/N?" Robin asks from the doorway. Nancy and Mom are with her too, waiting to intervene if things get uglier than they already are.

"Yeah. Can you call Steve to come get Eddie? He needs a ride home." You call back.

"I don't need anything!" Eddie shouts, making you cringe. You really hope none of your neighbors hear any of this. He stumbles for you again, taking hold of your chin. "Except for this pretty mouth of yours on my dick." He chuckles dumbly, his inhibitions and self-awareness eroded away by all the alcohol he's consumed.

"Jesus christ, Eddie! Just stop it!" You shout in disgust, swatting his hand away. This...thing in front of you isn't your boyfriend. It's a sad, hurt man that's drowned his sorrows in massive quantities of liquor. He doesn't know what he's saying. He doesn't know how much he's hurting you with his careless actions.

"Oh...oh, no." Eddie gasps in realization, bringing his hand to his mouth. "I'm sorry, princess. I-I didn't mean any of that." He continues, his features falling into sadness. It appears a sliver of clarity has made its way through, if only for a moment. He tries to reach for you again. To apologize, to shower you with kisses, who knows. But you back away from him, shaking your head as you start to cry again. You can't do this, you can't deal with him right now. "Y/N, please. I'm sorry. I just miss you so much...I love you, I need you. It's killing me to be without you." He keeps going, breaking down just like he did last night. He falls to the ground before you, sobbing loudly. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...sorry..." He folds over himself, gripping helpless handfuls of the grass beneath him. "Y/N, please...please, just come back. Come back to me." Eddie begs, unable to think anything but his hopeless pleas for you to forgive him, to let things go back to the way they were.

"I can't, Eddie. Not right now. I'm sorry." You say tearfully, tempted to kneel before him and stroke his back or hair to soothe him. But you can't offer him any comfort, because he'll think everything is okay again when it isn't. Not yet. Maybe it never will be. All you can do is stand over him, the both of you crying yourselves sick again.

After what feels like hours, Steve eventually shows up to your house. He pries a broken Eddie off the ground, overpowering his drunken kicks and squeals as he begs to be let go. Eddie cries out your name like a wounded animal, the sound of it absolutely wretched. But Steve stuffs him into the passenger seat of his car anyway, taking him back to your apartment to babysit him for the night. If you know Eddie at all, he'll hoof it all the way back here if nobody stops him.

"C'mon, Y/N. Let's get back inside." Robin says when she comes over to you. You nod through your tears, forcing your eyes away from Eddie's muffled wailing, and his pounds against the car window. Robin walks you into the house, closing the door behind you both.

"I'm sorry, sugarpuff." Mom says, taking you in her arms for a warm hug. That whole display was incredibly difficult to watch. She feels for Eddie, she truly does. She acted pretty similarly when George waltzed out the door ten years ago. The poor boy's heart is aching for you, breaking more and more as the hours pass. She may still be furious with him for creating this situation in the first place. But she'd be hard pressed to not hold an ounce of sympathy for him at the same time.

"Sorry about your car, Nance." You state, muffled against your mother's shoulder.

"It's fine, Y/N. You didn't know Eddie was gonna pull a stunt like that. I'll make sure to send him the bill." Nancy says in understanding, her and Robin joining to huddle to help alleviate some of your pain.

"That was so fucking embarrassing." You whimper, unable to stop crying.

"We know, Y/N. But it's not your fault." Robin assures you.

"And what's even worse, I wanted to take him back. I wanted to let him hold me, and kiss me, and tell me how sorry he was...I almost did." You explain, feeling so ashamed of yourself with every word.

"It's okay, honey." Mom coos, stroking your hair.

"We've all been there. But you have to take the time to think this over. Don't let what just happened take away from that. Eddie was wrong to come here tonight, it was really selfish." Nancy says, helping talk you down from the edge of jumping back into things with Eddie right away. He betrayed your trust, and he doesn't deserve to be forgiven so easily.

"Fuck, I just realized I have to see him at work tomorrow." You groan, wishing you could afford to take the day off. But you've got inventory that cannot wait another day, and a new schedule you haven't even started yet.

"Given the total mess Eddie was just now, I'm guessing he'll be calling in sick." Robin replies, and the thought gives you some comfort. Maybe she's right, maybe Eddie will stay home. You really fucking hope so, at least.

"C'mon, girls. Let's clean up, get cozy, and put the last movie on to go to sleep." Mom says, patting your shoulders so you'll let her go. You help her and the others put away the leftover ice cream and wine, and slide into your sleeping bag between Robin and Nancy. Your mother pulls a blanket over herself on the couch, after putting in the final movie you'd picked out. The Breakfast Club begins to play, and she flicks off the lamp. The room goes dark, only lit by the television.

"Thanks for being here, girls. It means a lot." You say quietly, still a little teary-eyed as you settle in to finally get some rest. You've got a long day tomorrow. First, you have a couple classes, and then you have an afternoon shift at the Hawk. It's going to be absolute hell to get through every second of it. But the world doesn't stop just because your heart is broken.

"Of course, there's nowhere we'd rather be right now." Robin scoots closer to you, and Nancy follows her lead. They make you feel safe and warm, which is something you didn't know you needed until now. You allow your eyes to close as the students of Shermer High show up for their Saturday detention, and murmur a quiet 'goodnight' to the girls. You drift off in no time at all, a welcome contrast from the previous night. You don't dream about Eddie, or the party, or anything at all, really. You don't wake up covered in sweat and hyperventilating in the middle of the night. You don't toss and turn, or struggle to maintain a steady period of rest. This night is probably the easiest you've ever slept in a very, very long time.

Monday, September 25th, 1989

You're woken up the next morning by Robin, who hands you a bowl of cereal. She sits cross-legged beside you holding a bowl of her own, taking a large bite of Frosted Flakes into her mouth. "Thanks, Rob." You say sleepily, sitting up in your nest to eat. "What time is it?" You ask, rubbing your eyes.

"Seven-thirty. Don't worry, plenty of time before class." Robin replies, assuring you that you won't be late. "How'd you sleep?"

"Great, actually. For the first time in months, probably." You scoff lightly. You can't believe that all it took to get a good night's sleep was to be sandwiched between your friends on the floor.

"I'm glad to hear it, Y/N. You deserve it, after what you've been through."

"Careful Robin, you might make this 'Vickie' of yours jealous." You joke, the two of you laughing quietly. Mom's still passed out on the couch, but Nancy is nowhere in sight. "Where's Nance?" You ask, looking around to see if she's in the kitchen.

"She went home. Said she had some stuff to do with Karen for the wedding. Invitations, or something like that." Robin explains as she chews.

"Oh, okay." You shrug, digging into your own breakfast now. "Is the van still out there?" You question, hoping you don't have to see any evidence of last night's incident sitting in the driveway.

"Yeah. But Steve called last night and said he and Eddie would come get it once you've already left today. I talked to him for a minute, I didn't wanna wake you."

"What did he say?" You ask, curious to know how Eddie was doing.

"You sure you wanna know? I don't want to upset you." Robin says, giving you a cautious glance.

"I'm sure. I can take it." You nod.

"Okay, well...Steve said Eddie was even worse once they got to the apartment. He threw up. A lot. And he was just a mess, still crying for you and begging Steve to bring him back here." She pauses, gauging your reaction. You nod for her to keep going, and she does. "Steve did his best to calm him down, and managed to get him into some clean pajamas and at least lay in bed. He put Arwen in there with him, and he sat there until Eddie fell asleep."

"So, Steve stayed there all night?" You can't help all the questions, despite the plan you'd initially made to push Eddie out of your mind and focus on your own life. You love him too much to pretend you don't care. You have to know that he's not going to end up hurting himself.

"Yeah. Mostly to make sure the dingus wouldn't choke on his own puke, I'm sure. Steve seemed pretty pissed about the whole thing." She says.

"Really? I suppose we might've woken him up." You reply guiltily, considering how annoyed Steve must have been to be dragged into your drama.

"Oh, no, no! He was pissed at Eddie!" Robin clarifies, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Oh." You roll your eyes at yourself for drawing the wrong conclusion.

"Yeah, he's definitely not a fan of Eddie making you cry. He gets very defensive of his friends." She explains further.

"But Eddie's his friend, too." You retort, not understanding the logic there.

"Well, yeah. But he hurt you, Y/N. In a pretty awful way, at that. Steve's seen all the shit you've had to go through, with Tommy and the trial and everything. We all have. And we were all under the impression that Eddie would never cause you that kind of pain." She speaks emphatically, showing you just how much she and the others care about you, that they understand your situation.

"Yeah, so was I." You huff, flicking the soggy pieces of cereal around your bowl with your spoon.

"But I will say, as much as we're all royally pissed at Eddie, I can understand why he didn't want to tell you." She says cautiously, noting your furrowing brow. "Don't get me wrong, he should've been honest from the beginning. But try to see it from his perspective. He did this awful thing, because he was hurting. And once it was over, he regretted it to a point where he hid it from everyone."

"I do see it, Robin. I've spent hours thinking about it from his point of view. But he still lied to me. How can I ever trust him again? How do I know he won't go back to her?" You ask as a couple tears drip into the bowl in your lap, forming translucent swirls in the milk.

"Y/N." Robin sighs. "There is no way in hell that he wants anyone on this entire planet besides you. I promise you that. Look, I'm not saying you should forgive him, or take him back. Alright? Just...think it over. Make sure you listen to your enormous heart, and that genius mind of yours, before you decide anything. Okay?"

"Okay." You nod, appreciating her advice. Those two things, your head and your heart, are currently all mixed up right now. So much of you wants to take Eddie back, to forget all about this and be happy again. But the other part can't stop picturing him with Chrissy, their mouths and hands all over each other. You also can't stop replaying the dishonest words he said to put your mind at ease months ago: There's nothing to worry about, sweetheart. Chrissy's a very dutiful wife, and I'm only interested in pursuing you...

Robin does you the favor of driving you to school. She's proving herself to be your closest friend as of late, and you're so thankful to have her on your side. You don't say much during the ride, your mind wandering to all sorts of places as you look out the window. You wonder how Eddie's doing, probably nursing a major hangover after the stunt he pulled last night. You wonder if Arwen is doing okay without you there, if she's meowing incessantly, searching the apartment for you. You wonder what Steve's night has been like, if he got any amount of sleep while watching over your man. 'My man.' What the hell does that even mean anymore?, you ask yourself. You sigh aloud as Robin pulls up to the college.

"I'll pick you up after your shift, Y/N. You gonna be okay today?" Robin asks as you sling your bag over your shoulder.

"I'll survive. Thanks for the ride, Rob. I'll see you later." You answer flatly, forcing a small smile. Though it falls away as quickly as it arrives.

"Later." She gives you a sympathetic look and a little wave. You close the passenger door, and she drives off to start her day at Family Video. You go inside the school building, heading to your first course of the day.

Your classes go alright, it's easy enough to shut off the emotional side of your brain and focus on taking notes. You blindly copy down the words your professors say, and anything vital they put on their chalkboards. You're running on autopilot, refusing to let yourself think or feel anything except 'that's important, write that down'. Everything else is locked away in a box, shoved to a deep dark corner until you can open it once you're alone. Old habits die hard, and your tendency to shut down and hide is currently fighting for its life.

You walk a few blocks to the theater once you're done with class, still feeling rather numb as you step through the door. You head straight for the restroom to change clothes, ready to dive headfirst into work and further remove yourself from inner turmoil. You slip into your uniform, your armor. You straighten everything out in the mirror and take a deep breath, before going into the office to start the day. You step past the threshold to the break room, stopping dead in your tracks when you see a familiar head of long curls digging through your shared locker. You debate turning around and running away, perhaps to hole up in the projection booth with Milo until the coast is clear. That is, until Jamie acknowledges you, holding a cup of coffee in hand.

"Hey, Y/N. How was your weekend?" Jamie asks, making you cringe. You notice Eddie flinch with his back still turned to you. What is he even doing here? You were sure he was too fucked up to come in today. You only hope he'll have the good sense to stay the hell out of your way.

"It was fine. How was yours?" You reply, forcing your feet to keep moving toward the office.

"Oh, it was great. I went out with that girl I told you about, Trudy. We had dinner at this Italian place..." Jamie continues talking, but you're not really paying attention. You pretend to be doing something important at the desk, shuffling papers around to keep your eyes pointed downwards.

"That's nice." You say casually, daring to look up for a moment to see if Eddie's left the room yet. He hasn't. In fact, he's leaning against the lockers now, appearing rather desperate to talk to you. He taps his foot on the floor, and his arms are crossed to keep his hands from fidgeting. He looks like complete and utter shit, too. He bears a pale, almost green complexion, with dark circles around his bloodshot eyes. "You okay with being on concessions today?" You ask Jamie, while still gazing in Eddie's direction. You can't help yourself, despite it being the very last place you want to look. You know he won't drop this, unless you handle it now.

"Sure thing, boss!" Jamie salutes you goofily, heading on his way. It's just you and Eddie in the space now, and the tension is palpable. Neither of you know what to say. You certainly don't have any desire to do whatever dance this is at all. You've got too much work to do.

You sit down in the office chair, pulling your empty schedule sheets closer to you. You retrieve a pencil from the metal cup on the desk, finding any way to not make eye contact as you speak. "What is it, Eddie?" You ask coldly, immediately regretting saying anything at all.

"Can we talk一" He starts to ask, but you cut him off with a loud scoff.

"No, we can't. I've got a lot of work to do. And I honestly don't have time to hear a half-baked apology right now." You snip.

"I am sorry, though. For being a total idiot last night." Eddie apologizes anyway, making you sigh.

"Yeah, it was pretty fuckin' stupid." You pause for a moment, and meet his eyes again. "You realize you could've killed yourself, right? Or someone else? What the fuck were you thinking?" You ask rapid fire questions angrily, your task falling to the wayside. You can't hide your concern for him. Things could have been so much worse last night. You could have lost him forever. If you haven't already.

"I know it was dumb, Y/N. I didn't mean to make things worse. But I was out of my mind. I just...can't handle being without you." He explains sadly, pulling on your heartstrings.

"Yeah, well, you're gonna have to learn, Eddie. I'm not your girlfriend right now, and I don't know if I will be again. But I have to figure that out on my own. These drunken stunts, and the calls to my house, and trying to talk to me when I'm not ready are only making that more difficult." You buckle down, not allowing Eddie's more than evident pain to sway you in your resolve. It's been less than forty-eight hours, not nearly enough time to make up your mind.

"I know. I'm sorry, pri一 Y/N." He corrects himself, sparing the pet names.

"Okay. So, when we're at work, we are coworkers only. I'm your supervisor, and you'll do as I say and fuck off. Got it?" You don't mean to be so harsh, but you don't really know what else to do.

"Yeah. Got it, boss." Eddie says with shaky breath, remembering all the times he's called you that in bed, all the times he said it to you as a genuine term of endearment. But now, those romantic meanings no longer exist. It's just another bland, boring word like all the rest. "Where do you want me?" He asks, still needing an assignment. He cannot wait to leave the room before he breaks down crying again. He also urgently needs a trip to the restroom to throw up.

"Ticket booth, please." You answer shortly, returning to your paperwork. Eddie leaves without another word, and the air returns to the room. One more minute of that, and you might have suffocated.

You spend an hour or so working out the schedules for the next couple weeks, putting yourself and Eddie as far away from each other as possible. It's a struggle, to be sure. But you can't see his annoyingly sad, handsome face every day while you're debating what's best for you. You put the papers on the bulletin board once you're finished, and grab the sheets you need for inventory. You trod along to the storage closet, taking your time filling in the numbers once you're inside. You don't have much else to do today, besides making sure everyone's on task and everything is running smoothly.

It's nice and quiet in here, blocking out the sounds of customers filing in, and the loud pops of the popcorn machine. No one comes in looking for more paper cups, or a fresh case of Red Vines. For the first time in the last couple of days, you feel a small sliver of peace. You get to just be, filling out your little boxes without having to worry about anything else. The outside world beyond the closet door is miles away, leaving you alone in a way that is far from lonely. You could get used to this. If only you were able to hide out in this mini fortress of solitude all day. Eventually though, you pencil in the last little number in the last little box on your clipboard. Perhaps a smoke break is in order after your efforts.

You put the completed inventory back in the office for Mr. Biggs to sign off on, and retrieve your pack of smokes and lighter from your bag. You go out the side door to the alley, and lean against the brick wall while slipping a cig between your lips. You bring the lighter to the tip, inhaling deeply to start the burn. It's your first smoke since you left the apartment. You suppose you've been putting off feeding your Eddie-induced nicotine addiction, as the mere taste of smoke reminds you of him. But you can't put it off another minute, you've been craving this far longer than you'd like to admit.

"Trouble in paradise?" Jamie asks, drawing your eyes his way. You hadn't even noticed the door opening again, too absorbed in numbing your stress with tobacco.

"You could say that." You reply, forcing a smile.

"I noticed how tense you and Eddie were earlier. I figured something happened between you too." He says, tossing the large trash bag he'd brought outside into the dumpster. It lands with a loud thunk as it hits the bottom of the bin.

"Yeah. It definitely did." You say shortly, not particularly interested in talking about your relationship problems with your coworker.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. You guys are great together, we all think so. I hope you're able to work things out." Jamie says kindly, picking up on your cagey-ness. He may have been your lab partner once upon a time, but that doesn't exactly make you close friends.

"Yeah." You add simply, shrugging your shoulders as you take a long drag. You don't really know what else to say. You appreciate the sentiment, everyone is rooting for you. But you can't help wondering if all their support for the relationship is worth it.

"I'd better get back in, Max needs me." Jamie leaves you alone, feeling rather awkward about this small conversation. He doesn't blame you for being a bit cold to him. It appears whatever happened between you and Eddie must have been pretty bad.

"Fuck." You sigh to yourself once he's gone, pinching the bridge of your nose. Jamie was only trying to be nice. You didn't have to act so goddamn detached. You just want to pretend to be normal, at least until the workday is over. You won't spend your time telling all your underlings about your personal, private business. You won't dredge up all the bullshit in a place where tears and sobs do no good. You refuse to be anything but a supervisor today. You stub out your cig, having only smoked half of it, and head back inside to finish this stupid fucking day.

"How'd it go?" Robin asks as you slide into the passenger seat after closing time.

"Ugh, it was awful. Eddie showed up after all." You sigh, tossing your bag in the backseat.

"Oh, god. Really?" She groans on your behalf. She can imagine how difficult that must have been for you. "Did he say anything?"

"Yeah, that he was sorry for last night. He wanted to have a 'real talk', but I told him no. I told him that I need time to figure this out, and that he needs to leave me the fuck alone until I do." You explain grumpily, hating the fact that you spoke to him at all. You could've ignored him, let him stare at you dumbly until he gave up and walked away on his own. But you didn't. He knew you wouldn't. Because he knows you still love and care about him, despite everything.

"Good. I'm proud of you for putting your foot down." Robin says with a smile.

"Thanks. I don't feel proud. But I appreciate it, I guess." You laugh dryly.

"You'll get through this, Y/N. And you have all of us to help you do that." She reassures you, taking hold of your hand. You squeeze it tight, happy to accept the platonic affection. She's right. Things will get easier every day, you just have to stick with it and keep your head up. You'll decide whether or not going back to Eddie is what you really want. And you'll have your friends and family supporting you the entire way.

To be continued...

[luminouslywriting]

Hello love!

How are you doing? How do you feel after the infection has passed? Are you in any pain?

If possible, I would like to make a request. Could you please write Ruth’s reaction when she sees a very cute sleepy looking Robby, wearing his pyjamas and a dressing gown, with his messy curly hair, waiting for her after she comes home from work late at night?

Thank you! Love you 🥰

A/N: Nonny, I'm sorry this has been on the backburner for so long, but I genuinely hope you enjoy this a ton! And you're so sweet to check in on my health! I'm doing much better, just dealing with some anemia problems!

Please note that this takes place some time after the events of Masters of the Air and fairly early on in their marriage:

Ruth Sharpe-Rosenthal had been done with her work at the appointed time the office closed. However, it just so happened that today was an exception, seeing as how she did pro-bono work for the less fortunate. Specifically with women and children. It was a sort of law that she saw a growing need for, and had she been over in Europe still, she would have certainly continued this work and propagated it there.

Robby had gone home a few hours previous and Ruth had missed dinner. She knew he'd understand, given the stress of the job and the amount of times that he had done the exact same thing as she was doing now. Robby was always so good though, he'd stay up waiting for her and she'd usually find him nearly asleep in his chair, dressing gown already on and a cup of tea in hand. He was practically a grandfather already—but Ruth had known that when she had agreed to marry him.

It was quick work, parking the car in the parking garage below their building. It made it much easier now that they had two cars. He couldn't very well deny that their work kept them busy and separated often enough that it necessitated the change. Her mother thought it was impractical, needing two cars. Something far too extravagant for a woman who should be staying in the home anyway. But Ruth was working for the District Attorney's Office now and if she had her way, she'd be getting a promotion by the summer.

The car was still warm as she removed the keys. The hum of the engine died down in a purr and Ruth let out a soft sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. It was well past one in the morning and though it was now the weekend, she had no desire to do anything but sink into her bed for the next 48 hours.

Cases like today? They were hard. A battered woman and her small son fleeing from a husband who drank too much. It was emotional work and always difficult to try and detach her personal feelings from the explicit law and what she could or could not do.

Her limbs felt like lead as she exited the car, finding the crisp winter air a breath of relief from the mugginess within the car. She half wished that she had a cigarette that she could light before going up to the apartment. But Robby had convinced her to give them up shortly after the Nuremberg Trials and she had agreed that it probably wasn't the best habit that she could have picked up.

She hadn't been keen on it, but he had promised to cut back on the hair gel if she gave up the cigarettes. So here she was, fingers slightly trembling as she just stared up at the snow falling from the clouded, barely lit sky.

Slowly and with the click of her heels, Ruth made her way over to the stairwell. Once she was within the building, she entered the elevator and took it up to the seventh floor. The hallway was dimly lit, red carpet neatly vacuumed from earlier in the day. Not a single sound or peep from any of the other apartments. She didn't expect anyone to be up this late—or early.

Ruth hummed quietly as she placed her key in the lock. A yawn tore at her lips and she did her best to suppress it, eyes feeling heavy. As the door to the apartment swung open, Ruth couldn't help the soft chuckle that spilled from her throat.

Sitting there in his pajamas and robe, book in hand, and totally asleep and snoring—her husband. He looked simply exhausted, bags under his eyes. The dinner sat untouched on the kitchen counter, two plates still full and waiting to be eaten.

"Oh you daft man," Ruth mumbled quietly. He really didn't need to sit up and wait for her. Especially not to eat. He needed to take better care of himself.

Silently, she hung up her coat and then slipped off her heels, finding immediate relief in her aching achilles. Ruth padded over to Robby, eyes meticulously looking him over. The way that his chest rose and fell and the way his lips slightly puckered while he breathed. The way his eyelashes fluttered and hid those beautiful eyes of his. God, she could watch him like this forever.

Unable to help herself, Ruth slipped a hand into his curls, running her fingers gently against his scalp. He let out a soft whine and then blinked a few times at the sight of her.

"You're here."

An amused smile appeared on her face. "Well hello to you too, dear," Ruth murmured. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, lips lingering on him for just a moment. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I can't go to bed without my wife."

"That sounds like something Freud would love."

"Ruth," Robby mumbled in a slight wine. He turned in his chair, hands slipping around her waist.

She gave a slight shriek of surprise that turned into a half-laugh as he pulled her onto his lap. Almost immediately, all tension in Ruth's body seemed to leave her. She wrapped her arms around him, letting the steady beat of his heart and body heat permeate every portion of her own body.

"What time is it?" Robby murmured into her neck.

"It's late," Ruth said, nuzzling against him. "You didn't have to wait for me."

"Ruth, I'll always wait for you. When are you gonna get that through your pretty head?" Robby said, lightly tapping against her temple with his fingers.

A slow grin spread across her features. "You may need to teach me a few lessons, in that case, dear."

"What did you have in mind?"

A wolfish grin crossed Ruth's features. "Several things that involve you and me and our bed."

[toiletwipes]

i know love | the poly ending

~1.6k words / YEAH THATS RIGHT. POLY ENDING. If you're confused, when I first started writing for "and I'd give up forever to touch you" my pride and joy, I would get asks and requests for a poly ending between Simpbur, Rosie (a streamer he was in love with) and the MC (aka you, who developed a genuine connection with him- first.) And because I've been writing all day and I did promise Lotus I would, here it is! I wanna say it's been a while since I read the fic myself so if it's inaccurate- shh.

Also I want to apologize about the length, I would add more but I really wanted to post this before I go to the concert so uh. here it is! Hope you enjoy lotus <3 @lotusanonymouse

[You come home and you find your lovers fucking like the horny freaks they are.]

~~~

"Guys, I'm home," you say, toeing off your shoes, sliding the keys into the tray by the door. Work had been long, boring and frankly, numbed your bones more than you care for. The soles of your feet ache and you reach down to rub the soreness away, sighing as it just barely relieves the pressure. But as soon as you look around, you sigh again, this time with a smile. Leaning on the wall, you Crane your neck to see that only one door in this apartment is open. And now the noises are more apparent.

Padding down the hallway, soft moans and whimpered curses are louder and louder and when you peer around the doorframe you can't help the burning in your lower abdomen. Both of your partners, Wilbur and Rosie were on the bed, and they were both very close to their climax.

"You guys have been playing without me?" You murmur, snaking a hand over the clothed back of Rosie, digging into her hair and yanking as your other hand reaches down to splay over Wilbur's chest. They each have their own gasps, looking towards you not with regret, but need. Your hand relaxes the grip it has in Rosie's hair till you hum, smoothing her down. The roots are starting to show again, should probably bleach them again.

"Your shift ended an hour ago, could you blame us?" Rosie's hips keep rolling, and honestly, you couldn't. It's not like they weren't supposed to fuck without you, you just like playing with them like this. You're not really mad. You just could use a snack first… or not, honestly the way Rosie keeps leaning her face into your hand. Keeps kissing it like it'd put her in your graces.

Wilbur's hands were digging his nails into her naked hips, her t-shirt just barely covering her stomach but there's nothing else on her. Just the shirt. Wilbur's plaid pajama pants were pulled down just enough for her to get going and his shirt is nowhere to be found. You wouldn't be surprised if Rosie came straight over to him after her stream. She does get horny quite easily while she streams, finds it harder to keep her hands to herself when she knows her lovers are in the chat.

"Then why don't you finish Wilbur off, he looks like he needs it more than you." You lean down to kiss him, catching his moans getting louder as she begins to bounce on his cock again, trailing down a blunt nail down his chest and pinching one of his hardened nipples.

"Be a good boy and come for her, yeah?" You whisper against his mouth before pulling away.

Moving towards your room, you toss your work clothes into the bin and you can hear them with the open door and through the walls. "Fuck fuck fuck- that's it, oh fuck right there. Come inside- yeah come inside of me, baby." Rosie's rambling makes your head spin as you consider getting dressed.

Making the split decision, you pull on Wilbur's boxers and one of Rosie's merch shirts, two sizes bigger than your normal for the extra baggy look. Making your way back to your two favorite people, Wilbur sits on the back of his thighs, sobbing into Rosie's neck as she pulls him further into her body.

You can pinpoint the second his cock twitches and then spills inside of her with the way he tenses, and her legs shake the tiniest bit wrapped around his waist, but you can see her wiggle, see the way she still hasn't orgasmed yet.

"That's it, baby, fill me up," you hear her coo into his ear, biting her lip as she opens her eyes and finds you. She whispers even quieter and he moves finally, slipping out and sitting against the wall with Rosie next to him. She's antsy to get off, though, you send her a look. She sends you one back but you hold a finger up and you leave and come back with a warm, damp towel, wiping the mess they both made.

Rosie moans through it but complains thoroughly when you lean down to clean Wilbur off personally with your tongue. His fingers reach into your scalp, "ah- ah, I'm still- sensitive, sensitive."

You only come up once you've swallowed his come down, reaching up to thread your fingers in his hair and pull him into a kiss. He whimpers in your mouth when you still reach down to wipe him clean with the rag.

"And what about you, baby, you want us to do something for you?" Rosie asks, reaching over to squeeze at your thigh, a smile spread lazily across her face.

You pull away from Wilbur, trailing one blunt nail down again and watching him shiver as you hum. You glance at her out of the corner of your eye and then you smile. "Get on your back, Rose," and boy does she move. She's on her back, spreading her legs for you to move in between them and gasping lightly when your mouth latches onto her clit, switching between lapping and sucking on it enough to make her groan out in frustration. Her hips twitch underneath you, aching to thrust into your face but you hold her down.

And right when you almost had her there, you come off of it, spitting on her can't as you thumb her entrance. "Ask me nicely," you ask as she hisses, still so sensitive from Wilbur's round. "Ask, babe." She doesn't and so you let off completely, sitting back and finding Wilbur right behind you, wrapping you in his arms and kissing at your neck.

"You can get yourself off if you don't wanna ask me," you grin at her, as Wilbur's hand drips under Rosie's shirt to cover your warm skin with cold fingers. She huffs, because the three of you know damn well she can't get off without either of you. One of you will do but if it's just her? Forget it, she'll just be teasing herself for hours.

"And what if I asked Wilbur instead?" She asks, sitting up on her elbows, jutting her chin out.

"Ask him, but just know I'm not getting you off until I get back from my mom's. Whether or not you ask me." And everyone knows you won't be back until next week.

She bites her lip, looking away, breathing in deeply. The trip itself had been a major argument, with her deflecting and not actually admitting she just wanted to go with you and meet your family until it was too late.

Her eyes come back to yours and then she crawls onto her knees and places her hands on both of your thighs. "Please, can you-" she breathes in deeply as she leans back, "-can you make me feel good? Make me come?"

You can't hide the smile on your face, and without hesitating, you tap Wilbur's arms and he lets go, watching as you push Rosie on her shoulders, leaning into her space to press your mouth against hers, kissing her deeply as you press her into the mattress. One of your hands drift between you two and she gasps into your mouth when you set an aggressive pace already, gripping onto your elbows as you slip a finger, then two inside of her can't.

"Go on, baby, be a good whore. Show Wilbur how much you love it when I fuck you with my fingers. That's it, moan for him."

And she does, once you move your mouth to the column of her neck, kissing and biting hickeys into her skin just low enough that no matter what she wears, the bruises will peek through, and she moans for Wilbur. Tells him through gasps of breath that she's both of yours, that she needs your fingers and she presses her chest into yours, trembling as you fuck her through an orgasm.

Wilbur's quick to suck Rosie's slick off of your fingers, quick to wipe her down again and slide his boxers on.

The three of you lay in bed, breathing and cuddling closely before Wilbur gets up, kissing both you and Rosie. "Getting food, do you guys want anything?" When he received two no's, he nodded and left the bedroom.

Quiet again, with the sounds of Wilbur pulling things out of the cupboard, Rosie rolls onto her side and stares into your face, waiting till you adjusted yourself before speaking. "You are coming back… right?" It was never really settled in the argument and the apologies if you did but you thought she knew. You frown, reaching forward to cup her face, letting her press it closer.

"I'm coming back. I'm just going to grab the last of my things and I'm leaving the first chance I get." And you pause before continuing, "I don't think I can live without either of you again. You two are the best things to happen to me." She leans closer, lightly pressing a kiss to your lips. You stay like that for a while, kissing her until she pulls away, only a little bit and she shudders, wiping away a stray tear.

"Okay." And you grab her hand, lifting it to your mouth, pressing a kiss to her hand, gripping it hard as she holds just as tightly.

"You know I love you," she tenses, "and I know you're not ready to say that to me or to Wilbur, but I'm coming back. I promise." She nods.

You fall asleep in her arms, vaguely aware of Wilbur's weight dipping back on the mattress and of his arms wrapping around your waist again. You just know love.

You know love.

[modern-day-tragedy]

Tongue-tied [james x reader]

summary : college AU, meet cute, a flirty james and a reader who's not really used to that, meeting for the first time

pairing: james potter x reader

warnings: none, sfw

a/n: this is just a short little drabble, cause i was bored and i wanted to see how fun it would be to write a y/n type of story. this is my first one ever, so please be gentle with any comments ^^

The 8am college classes are the bane of every students existence, and you will forever be grateful for that little common sense you had when it was time to choose your electives.

To be fair, if it wasn’t for your older sister who had drilled all of her wisdom into you, you would have probably made the same mistake as many of the students you currently see walking past you in the hallway, the bags under their eyes as dark as the coffee they hope will help wake them up. You try not to be too chipper and rub it in their faces, but after 9 full hours of sleep and no classes for the next hour or so, you feel absolutely amazing and nothing can ruin your mood.

(Or at least you hope so - with enough sleep comes that unfounded optimism that’s often more harmful than good)

There is a loud bang behind you, and every student in its vicinity flinches, a few of them even dropping their papers and glaring at the source of the commotion. No one stops to investigate it further, though, and after a few seconds, when the crowd is gone and the next set of classes starts, you get a glimpse of a boy.

Maybe even the sweetest boy you have ever seen.

His books lay scattered on the floor, tea spilled all over his jeans, and the most adorable pout resting on his lips - you're pretty sure he's not even aware of it. With his messy hair and glasses, he looks like a nerd, but the glimpse of strong biceps you get tells you that maybe there’s more to him than that first impression. He’s sitting on the ground, making no attempt to gather his stuff or move, and you feel a bit sorry for him - he’s obviously one of those poor souls from the 8am class.

On most days, you tend to keep to yourself. You has a small group of friends, not best friends but good enough friends, and you're happy with them. There was never a need for you to expand that circle of friends, at least not until now. You're not even sure why you feel the need to reach out because honestly, he is not the first cutie you have run into, but there’s something there, intriguing. Something.

(And that’s why sleeping the right amount of hours one is supposed to sleep is dangerous.)

So, against your better judgment, you start gathering the papers closest to you. They are from a class you're familiar with, and you try your best not to peek into what seems to be his writing for a literary class. Next comes the travel mug which, sadly, didn’t hold the liquid in it at all, and by the time you're holding all that in your hands and you stop right in front of the boy, he finally looks up, over the rim of his glasses, and you do your best not to blush.

He has the warmest fucking eyes ever.

“I believe this is yours?”

“It seems that it is. Too bad for the tea, I was looking forward to it.”

“I imagine being soaked in it isn’t that pleasant at all, is it?”

“Nope.” The way he grins is sheepish, open, like you two are old friends, and not complete strangers. You know that some people are like that, and it's an unusual thing for you, but it feels good, and you allow yourself a grin that ends up matching his.

He makes no move to get up, so you lower the stuff on the ground, giving him a thorough look. Seeing no obvious injury or any blood from where he had bumped his head, you stretch your hand, swallowing the lump in your throat at the shock that goes through you as he takes it and lets you pull him up to his feet.

Instead of letting you go, however, he laces your fingers together, bringing them to his chest before he lets your intertwined hands fall between you two, his hand warm in yours. Your face would probably look hilarious if someone were to snap a photo of it, but at that moment, all you could do was stare at your hands.

“Um.”

“Hm?”

Ungluing your eyes from your hands is hard, but looking at his teasing smirk is even harder because damn, his eyes are warm chocolate brown, and he has freckles.

“What’s this?” This, being your laced fingers, which are probably making you blush like crazy. You motion towards them, trying to gently extract your hand, but his grasp is firm and despite your heart trying its best to beat out of your chest, you don't feel too bad when he doesn't let go.

“Oh, we’re dating now, babe.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second, but thankfully comes back to life with enough wit and control for one quick remark.

“Shouldn’t you take me on a date first?”

“I suppose. How does tomorrow evening sound?"

(Turns out, his name is James; you two end up going on that date, and two weeks later when he asks you to be his girlfriend, you playfully punch him and says “I thought I already was”.

Later on, Sirius uses the same technique to ask Remus out, and to everyone’s surprise, it fucking works.)

[prince-koda]

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: About 1150.

AN: This was supposed to be a super short blurb and I accidentally kept going. Hardly proofread and per usual, very self-indulgent. No Y/N, they/them pronouns used for reader, and reader is always referred to as Bucky's partner. Hurt/comfort, corny, and probably cringey. Constructive criticism always appreciated.

The sky was still dark, most stars in the sky obscured by the lights of the city. A normal night with never ending traffic and the tv playing almost inaudibly.

Two bodies were sprawled on the large couch, one that Bucky had to be bullied into actually purchasing and moving into his apartment. Staying in a half furnished apartment was “something for college kids, not an old man” according to Sam and his partner.

While the night was warm, when Bucky woke with a start, the room suddenly felt devoid of any warmth. Cold sweats had him shaking and sitting up as he searched around the room for any danger.

The only movement he found came from beside him on the couch, his partner’s eyes opening awkwardly as they adjusted to the waking world again. As they shifted, the final corner of the blanket that was still resting on the couch finally slipped off, crumpling on the floor. They must have fallen asleep while watching some show Sam wouldn’t shut up about.

“What’s going on?” Their groggy voice broke through the sound of Bucky’s blood drumming in his ears.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His hand slid over to rest next to theirs on the cushions. Pinkies barely touching, but just enough contact for him to selflessly ground himself.

The subtle contact eventually evolved into full hand holding, his partner bringing their enclosed hands up to their lips, leaving fragile, cautious kisses on the knuckles of his flesh hand.

Disregarding his apology, they scooted closer, adjusting from their slumped over resting position to sit back up, shoulder to shoulder with Bucky. Hands still clasped with a thumb rubbing soothing circles against the back of his hand.

“Where’s the remote? We can watch some more of that show or we can turn on something else?” They asked, scanning the coffee table for the tv control.

Bucky never liked talking much after his nightmares. He’d try to shrug it off, but it always took him a while to fully reacquaint himself with the present.

A couple seconds of shuffling around on the couch to find the remote which had inevitably gotten stuck in between the cushions, followed by the two adjusting back on the couch to comfortably rest in silence as they scanned through the tv to find something to play.

A movie was settled for quickly, but much to Bucky’s dismay, his partner proceeded to give one last kiss to his hand before standing with a big yawn and stretch.

Bucky wanted to ask where they were going—ask them to come back—but he knew it was childish. He already woke them up in the wee hours of the morning so he settled on being alone on the couch with a movie faintly playing on the screen; shuffling and clicking coming from the small kitchen. With only the light from the tv and some hallway lights near the front door being the only light in the apartment, Bucky could still make out a shadow in the kitchen, moving swiftly from cabinet to drawer to stove to sink, the sound of the tap being turned on following.

He must have zoned out while staring at the screen because before he knew it, his partner returned, two mugs in hand.

They offered one to Bucky who let out a nearly silent ‘thanks’ and mindlessly grasped for the warm ceramic, the sweet scent of the tea hitting him as steam wafted under his nose.

His partner proceeded to make themself comfortable in their previous spot, avoiding spilling any of the warm drink.

Thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, the couple sat on the couch quietly, staring at the tv screen, but not paying attention to anything actually happening in the film.

After a few sips of their drink, his partner placed their drink on a nearby coaster on the coffee table before placing a kiss on Bucky’s cheek, nudging his shoulder with their head before settling to lay on his shoulder. One hand draped over his chest, playing with the dog tags that hung from his neck and the other hand draped over his shoulders, massaging the space where vibranium met flesh; it tended to ache more after nightmares.

Bucky slowly felt his heart rate returning to normal, the tension in his body fading. Although, pain—boarding on panic—began to rise in Bucky's chest. A tightness that made his breathing shallow and his eyes began to water.

He adjusted his gaze down to the tea he gripped in his lap as he tried to swallow the lump growing in his throat.

“Hey, what’s going on?” They asked softly as their head raised, the hand on his shoulder moving up to pet his hair, pushing the short strands from his forehead.

Tears were somehow falling down his face, but he doesn’t remember when it started. In lieu of responding, all he could do was move a hand from his drink to grab the hand resting on his chest and bring it to his lips this time. His hold was light and a bit shaky.

“One second.” His partner muttered, slipping their hand from his to pull his mug from his hand and place it on the coffee table next to their own before reaching back out to him. He held their hand again, fidgeting with their fingers and trying to even out his breathing.

No more questions were asked, instead his partner pulled his head to rest on their shoulder this time, a hand holding his and the other back to massage his shoulder.

“Take your time sweet boy.” They placed kisses on the crown of his head as their words unintentionally brought upon more tears.

“I’m so sorry.” He choked out, trying to shut off his feelings.

Before when he would wake from nightmares alone in his apartment, he’d feel hollow as he came back to reality. But this time an ache, an overflow of emotions couldn’t be contained. Being vulnerable was not something Bucky had been able to imagine after he was taken by Hydra. Yet, here he was. Silently crying and being held by someone—someone who loved him—and it all began to feel like too much.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” More kisses placed on the top of his head.

“I never knew I could feel this loved.” His voice cracked and was hardly above a whisper, but the pause of his partner’s hands told him he had been heard.

He didn't say it but his brain was seemingly yelling 'I don't deserve this, I don't deserve you' so loudly, even his partner could hear it.

“Well get used to it buddy.” They gave a huffed laugh alongside a squeeze of their locked hands. "You're stuck with me and I hate to break it to you, but I'll always love you."

[hiddenobject-fanblog]

His Soul (Chapter 21)

Separated

Summary: After saving the abducted collectors, you were trusted with Curioso's box. What seems like a dangerous possession slowly turns into an opportunity to learn more about this creature and his curse. Can you earn his trust, and possibly, his affection?

Pairings: Curioso/Reader, Curioso/The Detective

--

After the dessert course was finished, you were dragged into a crowd which led you into the recreation room. Everyone around you started games of cards, pool, darts, and pinball. This was the only normal part of your time here, as no one bothered using their magic to push their cue sticks and press buttons on a machine. You assumed there was an unspoken rule here forbidding any sorcery, to prevent anyone from cheating. 

With those expectations out of the way, you were not asked to perform any more tricks or show off your ‘fire’. Instead, you did your part having conversations with other club members. You tried asking about what was going to happen to you tomorrow morning, but everyone you talked to refused to spill their big secret. You’d even tried learning the source of this club’s wealth, but they were incredibly modest about their exorbitant lifestyle. 

Curioso was silent during your time there. You knew he was trying not to interrupt or distract you…but it made you feel strange. It seemed like he had talked too much when the two of you started working together, but now it was like something was missing. As if Curioso’s commentary was essential to your investigation.

“Are you still there?” you asked your sleeve quietly while the rest of the room was starting their poker game. 

“I am,” he whispered back. 

You relaxed on the stool you were sitting on. It was such a ridiculous thing - he promised not to leave your side, yet here you were thinking he’d be elsewhere with better things to do. You needed to focus. 

When their heads were clearly wrapped in their game, you took this opportunity to leave, claiming you were exhausted and wanted to head back to your room. No one questioned you as you quickly exited the room and sped down the hallways. You didn’t want to get stopped again and roped into doing something else. For now, you were going to bide your time until the night got late enough and you were positive everybody was asleep. These people had to rest sometime .

--

You were alone again in your room with Curioso, who sat across from you and presented some new cards you’d never seen before. You figured playing a game or two together would help the time fly by. You had a cup of coffee at your side that you sipped from, to help you stay awake for the long night ahead of you. 

You blinked curiously at him as you read the name of the pack in his hands.

“ Skip-Bo ? Never played it before,” you drummed your fingers on the table as he shuffled the cards. 

What a sight that was - it almost looked like each card was moving by itself as he performed a riffle and bridge shuffle. Your eyes were locked on his hands as they did their magic. 

“It was the only game my family ever wanted to play with me,” he bowed his head as he arranged the cards. “Probably because I wasn’t very good at it, so they had an easy win.”

“Huh,” you eyed your hand of cards that he gave to you. They were different colors and numbers, reminding you of a game more familiar to you. “Most families play Uno . Ever heard of it?”

“The kids at school played that one. I was never…invited into those games,” his voice softened as he took off his top hat and faced you, “This is like a solitaire card game. It’s a little complicated at first, but you’re smart, so you should get the hang of it pretty quickly.” 

You smiled modestly, and spent the next hour or two learning how to play this new game between you and Curioso. It involved a lot of counting and thinking, so your mind was constantly working. After some point, it was easy to forget that you were supposed to be by your lonesome, as you stopped listening for any footsteps by the door and allowed yourself to be completely engrossed in his company. 

It was so easy to fall into a comfortable state when you were around him. You’ve been on so many cases by yourself with no one to help or accompany you. Now that you had a friend who was always close by, it was hard to feel alone anymore. Curioso was incredibly pleasant as a companion - as he did a good job keeping you busy and often made you smile and laugh. You no longer felt any tension or weariness from your early days with him…he had your complete trust and attention now. 

Judging by his eagerness to spend this time with you, you assumed the feeling was returned. 

“Those kids missed out for sure,” you sniffed as you watched him make his final play. “You’re a lot of fun to play with.” 

“I don’t recall you feeling this way the last time we played Monopoly ,” he grinned. 

“Yeah, well, that game can tear people apart. You’re lucky we’re still talking after that stunt you pulled.” 

He laughed, collecting the cards and allowing them to disappear in thin air. “And you’re a lovely opponent yourself. I’m honored to play with you.” 

You looked away, but allowed the smile to remain on your face. He complimented you so often you wondered if you would ever be close to returning the favor to him. “I’m sorry your childhood was so lonely. If it makes you feel any better, I was the last one picked for all the field games.” 

He tilted his mask at you. “Was it because you were a nerd?” 

“What? No ! I was…just that weird kid who took a lot of pictures with my camera my dad gave to me, and made a big deal about missing jackets or people going to the bathroom for too long.” 

Curioso almost sounded proud. “You grew up to be a detective.” 

“Yep,” you puffed your chest out in pride. “I played a lot of Clue back in those days. I’ve settled a lot of disputes and mysteries during recess.” 

Your friend looked down at the table, drawing imaginary lines into the wood with the tip of his mechanical finger. “I never knew what I wanted to be when I was young. Never really…had the chance to do what I wanted.” 

Your smile fell as sympathy washed over you. “...You were taken pretty early, weren’t you?” 

“I was thirteen. The only thing I really liked to do was make sculptures and doodle on my homework. Maybe if I had gone to high school, I would have joined art class. I don’t really know.” 

You frowned as you watched his hands move. Again, you found yourself wishing you could have saved him in time. Done something. “Well…you make a fine partner to a detective. You’re a good investigator.” 

“It’s funny, I would have never imagined myself doing any of this.” 

“I mean, you were the one who wanted to join me and read all about my investigations. Maybe you had an interest in all of this without really knowing it.”

“Or maybe I was just interested in you ,” he countered. 

The blood rushed to your face. “Ah…but why would…” you refused to see his mask as you sat there not knowing how to react. You stood to your feet slowly. “What time is it?” 

He pretended to check his watch. “It’s 2 A.M. Do you think now’s time to snoop around?”

You grinned. “You know it.” 

--

You shrugged on a dark coat around your person, to help hide you in the shadows as you tiptoed around the clubhouse. You haven’t been here long enough to know how to avoid any creaky floorboards, so you were extra cautious as you walked down the halls. Things were quiet and there were less lights on, the ones aiding your way were incredibly dim. You could only hear muffled voices and sounds of televisions from rooms you passed - but no one was out in the open anymore. 

You relaxed as you smoothly made your way across the main room. You were feeling confident you’d find what you need without any hassle. And if anyone did find you-

“Hey!”

You jumped at the sound of a voice and reflexively pressed yourself against a nearby wall. Your eyes frantically shot around in the dark but you couldn’t find anybody. Curiously, you peeked around the corner to peer in the next room, where you saw Aydan standing across from Elise, his arms crossed and his face twisted in displeasure. You’d only seen him smiling during your time here, so the expression took you by surprise. 

The room they were in was clearly a separate bar, as there were shelves lined with fine liquor and taps for beer, with stools arranged around the counter. You wondered how you’d missed this earlier. 

“You know better than to give out second glasses,” his voice darkened in warning. “Now we’re running low on tequila.”

“I apologize,” Elise responded, her hands clasped tightly together at her waist. She looked as stiff as cardboard. “I had miscounted. May I summon you some more?” 

“You know that’s not what I’m concerned about,” he took a step closer to her, his orange eyes burning like the flames of fire. “What message do we leave when I allow you to give our guests more than they are promised? They will start expecting more , and you know as well as I that we cannot have that.”

“Yes, sir.” she whispered quickly. 

“Come here.” 

He took a seat on one of the stools and beckoned her over. She stood still for only a second longer before slowly walking over to where he was. Your eyes widened as you watched him hastily pull her up, setting her on his lap and gripping her suit tightly in his hands, scrunching up the fine material. Your jaw fell open when Aydan grabbed the back of her invisible head and forced his mouth onto…what could only be hers .

Even without a face to meet his, you could tell the kiss was forced and painful. A feminine whimper was heard in the air as he forced his tongue into her mouth. At this point, you turned away from the scene, feeling sick from what you were seeing. You would think watching a man tongue-kiss the air wouldn’t be so bad, but it was Elise’s cries that reminded you it was real. The way her gloved hands tried pushing him away from her, only for Aydan to practically crush her body against his own…

After what felt like an eternity, you opened your eyes. He pushed her off of him like he wanted nothing to do with her and Elise stumbled a little against the wall. 

“Have I made my point clear?” he asked sternly. 

“Yes.” 

“Do not let this happen again, or I will have this discussion with you upstairs. We are not a charity.” 

“Of course, sir.” 

“Stock all the alcohol and clean the rooms when you’re done. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the night.” 

He sauntered away and Elise slumped on the counter when he was gone. Your eyes were locked on her, your feet refusing to move. So your suspicions were right. She must be a prisoner under Aydan, but it went…much further than you presumed. He was imposing himself and assaulting her. It sickened you to realize that people could do this to their magical servants and get away with it…since their soul was bound to them, and there was no possible way for them to fight back, lest they get punished…

“My god,” you muttered under your breath. “I can’t believe he can do that to her.” 

“I can.” 

“Did…” you sucked in a breath harshly. “Did your enchantress ever-” 

“No. She just kept me in her control and hurt me when she was angry.”

Your eyes threatened to swell with tears, but you swallowed your anger down. You let out a breath to calm yourself, and your heart twisted to hear Elise crying as she arranged the liquor bottles. You couldn’t just walk away from this.

“Please, go talk to her,” you clutched your bag closer to your person. “Let her know she’s not alone. That she’s not the only one of you here.” 

“And what do I tell her when she asks who I belong to?”

You shrugged. “Tell her it could be anybody here. Lie about it for all I care. Just…make her feel better.”

“But, Detective…we need to search their files. Gather our evidence. Without me -”

“Open the door for me, and I’ll go and get everything myself. I’ll meet you in our room when I’m done.”

There was a pregnant pause where you watched Elise polish the glasses with shaking hands. You could sense he did not like this idea, you weren’t too big on being alone without him here either, but your concern for her outweighed everything else right now. After a moment, a flash came before you, and you watched as Curioso, dressed in his ensemble, approached her and tipped his top hat to her. There was an audible gasp as the glass she was holding slipped from her hands - only for your jester to reach forward and catch it before it could land.

The last thing either of you needed was for him to get discovered.

“Hello,” he offered politely, setting it back in her hand. You could tell he was tense, but at least he was being friendly.

“You…you’re…” she sounded breathless, pointing at him. “Who are you?” 

“My name is Curioso,” he took the liberty of seating himself while Elise scrambled to set the glass down and face him properly. 

“You’re one of us,” she said in disbelief. You quirked your head in the background. ‘Us’?

“I am. There’s no need to be afraid, I promise.” 

He lowered his arm and made a movement with his hand in your direction. You got the signal and moved on, reluctantly pulling yourself from the doorway and quickly sliding by in the darkness. You had to be fast while the door was uncovered. You did not want anyone stumbling upon it and seeing that someone was searching around. 

You finally reached the hallway you were in earlier today and gawked at the door that now stood where it hadn’t before. But you wasted no time, heading straight for it and closing the door behind you. You even locked it for good measure, turning around and observing the hidden room for yourself. 

It was an office, but this one had lots of filing cabinets and filled bookshelves. You got to work searching through these shelves using a small flashlight clutched between your teeth, taking note of what was there and grabbing what you were sure they wouldn’t miss. There were records and logs, but no dossiers. Those must all be in Aydan’s office. You busied yourself grabbing folders detailing this organization, tucking it all away in your bag to be thoroughly read through later. If you were quick here, you’d have the rest of the night to learn everything you could and contact the police. 

You tried opening a filing cabinet, only to find that it was locked. You swore under your breath as you wasted some more time searching for a key or a lockpick. It took far too long for you to uncover the hidden key tucked in the window sill. The moment you had it, you unlocked the drawers and began your hunt. After several minutes, you reached for a folder and opened it, smiling when you saw the address of the building you previously investigated.

Finally! 

Figuring you were done here, you slipped out of the room and tucked your bag out of sight. It was incredible luck to have no one stumble upon you in there. Or to hear anyone walking down that hallway. Having Elise distracted must’ve worked to your advantage. She would’ve been the likeliest one to find you tonight. You hoped her conversation with Curioso was going well right now. 

You were close to reaching your room until you felt someone grab your sleeve. You let out a cry and turned around harshly, only to meet the eyes of the telekinesis man you’d met earlier. For a second there, you thought Aydan had caught you. You eased down the second you realized they weren’t orange eyes. 

“Good evening, mate,” he grinned at you, sounding just as friendly as last time. “Sorry for the scare.” 

You calmed down and made sure to keep your bag out of view, waving him off. “No worries. I was just going to the bathroom.” 

You noticed his expression had changed, eying you with a confused look on his face, but he quickly wiped it and replaced it with a smile. He shook his head, muttering something to himself, and you shifted uncomfortably. 

“Say, I hate to bother ya’, but the fire went out in my room. Can’t get it to light again. Was wonderin’ if you could help me?”

You shook your head, fully aware that you were not under Curioso’s protection right now. “Sorry, I’m pretty exhausted from today.” 

“C’mon. It’ll be real quick and it won’t be much on you,” he paused before adding, “This place is freezing at night!” 

“Sorry, I just want to go back to my room and rest. I can help you tomorrow.”

He looked at you oddly, and you did your best to appear as sluggish as you could, despite having caffeine in your system. After a second, he nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off you. “Okay, mate. Have a good night.”

His tone was flat and you got the feeling that he wasn’t very happy with you. You recognized suspicion in his eyes - and you froze, realizing that you did not have…what did Curioso keep calling it? An ‘aura’ ? He said you did not have one, and without him on your person, it was obvious to anyone around you that you did not possess magical powers. 

You were so confident this wouldn’t happen, but you let yourself slip out of concern for Elise. Crap . 

“Uh, thanks. You, too.” 

With that, you sped-walked away, glancing behind your shoulder to check if he was following you. Thankfully, he remained where he was, eying you until you left his sight. From there, you rushed to your room, and closed the door behind you with a turn of the lock. You kept your body pressed against it for a minute longer, keeping an ear out to listen if he followed your direction, but you heard nothing.

You sighed in relief. 

“Curioso?” you called as quietly as you could, looking around. “I’m back.”

You checked the bathroom and every corner of your space, but it was empty. You inspected your clothes and your bag for his little face, but everything was as it should be. You sighed begrudgingly as you set down your bag and took out all the folders and papers you’d stolen. If Curioso wasn’t done yet, then you weren’t going to waste any time waiting for him. You’d check all of these and keep what you could for evidence. 

They should be done soon. 

--

A couple hours passed and you grew increasingly suspicious. Has something gone wrong? Did he get discovered? Had Elise ratted him out? It was nearly 4 AM now, and you worried it wouldn’t be long before the early birds would rise. You shoved all the papers back in your bag and started your search outside of your room - checking the hallways and rooms you passed as silently as you could. You were on edge as you looked for your friend, knowing you couldn’t call out for him. 

You even returned to the bar you’d left them at, only to find the room completely empty. You checked behind the counter but there was nothing. You grew a little frustrated as your journey continued. Where had they gone? What could’ve taken them so long? You told him to meet you back in your room. He surely had no problem getting back in there, even if it WAS locked. He knew better than to take too long…

When you felt you checked every inch of the place, you gave up and decided to return to your room. Curiso knew where it was, and you trusted everything was alright. He was smarter than you credited him for. Nothing was wrong…he’d probably be back in there by the time you returned, and the two of you would laugh upon having missed each other– 

A pair of voices caused you to freeze. It sounded like they were outside. But when you glanced out of the nearest window, you did not see anything. You gently pushed open the door that led to the downstairs balcony and looked around.

Nobody was around. 

“We could leave together.” 

You perked up at the sound of Elise’s voice. It was coming from above you. Ah, so they were on the balcony upstairs. You were about to head back inside until you heard Curioso’s voice respond:

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” 

…You hesitated, then withdrew your hand, choosing to flatten yourself against the wall and listen in. It probably wasn’t right for you to eavesdrop, but you didn’t want to interrupt them if they were talking about something important. You had a feeling that’s what this conversation was. 

Elise’s voice rang from above your head. “But you have temporary freedom. You do not need your master to release you. You can go anywhere you want, if you have your box.” 

“I don’t want to,” you could hear the sternness in his tone, as if he wanted to put an end to this conversation. You silently pleaded with him to do exactly that. 

“But, why? Does your master not force you to work, to do as they say? Do they not remind you that you belong to them, and punish you when you do wrong?” 

Your mouth was dry and you wet your lips. You remembered what you saw earlier. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears that you could barely hear their voices. Still, Curioso triumphed over the noise. 

“I’m not a servant. Not anymore. And if I leave, I might become one again. We can’t run from our curse - we must always belong to someone, and I have who I want.” 

Your face felt warm. He had who he wanted. 

“You don’t serve them? Then what do you do?” 

You pressed your lips against your teeth, clenching your hands as you waited with bated breath. Curioso wouldn’t give you away. It would bring the end of your investigation. She’d surely tell Aydan, and then you’d be found out…

“I’m their partner. They take me places and I help them in return. I am never forced, nor punished, to do anything.” 

A moment of silence ensued, and you shifted your footing. Some bells jingled and there were a few noises from above that you couldn’t identify. Elise’s voice returned after a moment. 

“You’re lucky. I would not want to leave if I were you, either. But I don’t love my master and I cannot escape. What shall I do?” 

“We can free you.” 

She sounded surprised. “How?” 

“All it takes is your master’s hand on the box. Some coercing can make that happen.” That familiar sinister tone of his was in his voice, and you smiled at the familiarity of it. “And then your soul can find a new owner.” 

“But how do you know all of this?”

“I read the book.” 

“You - you did? How?”  

“I have my ways. There is a combination your master can enter that will free your soul. We take your box, and you will be ours. Just until you find someone new.” 

“But that book only has punishments. There’s no such combination. How can I trust you?” 

You leaned forward, intrigued with where this was going, but you had no chance to hear Curioso’s response. Two hands went around your throat and pulled you roughly inside. You choked at the sudden movement, widening your eyes when you were met with the same man from before. He must’ve been hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike when you had your guard down. 

“Let’s take a walk, yeah?” he whispered roughly in your ear, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

Shit.

[starredeclipse]

Food served, Sleep gained, what happened? Story part

(Previous chapter right here )

He stirred the pot to make sure the soup didn’t burn, he had the knowledge to cook but yet he has never cooked a day in his robotic life, even still he was confident enough in himself to heat up a simple chicken noodle soup, sure it was soup from a can but he had to start small with his cooking and this kind of soup was always the best when one was sick. He continued to stir until the soap bubbled with heat, he turned the stove off before he went and found a bowl, he poured some soup into the bowl grabbing a spoon on the way before he went to Madisons room.

She appeared to be resting up until she heard the bowl get put down on her beds side table, she peaked open an eye seeing the steam coming from the bowl, did he make her food? She didn’t want to move…..not yet but she knew she had to get up eventually to go to the bathroom. Spring left the room to go grab a chair before he sat it next to her bed and picked up the bowl again, he sat down putting the spoon in the bowl “I can feed myself…” Madison said slightly propping herself up by just pushing her arms against the bed, luckily her stitched up wound was still numb so it wasn’t bothering her as much to do this “Oh okay, it might just be a little tough with the way your positioned though” she motioned for him to give her the bowl, he sighed but she was a kid and she probably felt like she had no control over anything right now so as silly as it seemed to let her eat in this position, he let her, he set the bowl carefully on the bed with the spoon watching her stir the soup around before she spooned herself some with a quick blow just to make sure it was to a cooler temperature before consuming. The soup seemed to be of her approval “After your done eating we’ll have to get you up to go to the bathroom but you’ll have to be careful, I can carry you there if you want” Spring offered though it might be better if she actually got to move her legs instead “I’ll walk but……I might need to lean on you….” She trailed off before she continued eating, Spring nodded as he just watched her eat so she didn’t accidentally spill it over onto herself, Madison felt so tired and although her fever had broke she still didn’t feel so good.

After the food was eaten the animatronic read the instructions for the medication before he took the bowl away and came back to give her her first pill “Alright you ready?” She looked at him hesitantly before she nodded, he carefully helped her into a sitting position before he eased her to her feet, he allowed her to put all his weight on her as he started helping her walk to the bathroom, once they got there she held onto the sinks vanity “I-I can take it from here” she looked at him before he stepped back “Alright just be careful” Spring said softly before he closed the bathroom door behind him giving her some privacy. He decided this would be the time to do a few chores nearby so he could keep a ear out for when she was done, he decided that while he was staying in this house he would most likely just charge in her parents bedroom since the bed was big enough for him to lay on while he charged, sure it would be a bit weird since its somebody else’s bed but if the parents never came back he might as well use the room since the couch wasn’t near any outlets.

He waited a good amount of time before he heard the bathroom door open and he dropped what he was doing, he popped himself into the hallway just in time to see Madison leaning her hand against the wall “All done? Do you need help getting back to bed?” She looked at him but she wanted to walk to her room on her own but knew she probably shouldn’t “Yeah, I’m tired” though she felt like she had been sleeping for hours on and off she still felt exhausted “Alright, take my hand, I’ll help you get back there” Spring just seemed like the gentle type, he’s proven to be that so far for a animatronic. Though the attack still made her hesitant she didn’t think Spring would actually hurt her since he had plenty of chances to do so, so with that thought in mind she let the animatronic help her back to bed. It all seemed so weird…..no parents….a new injury….and a animatronic that just seemed to want to take care of her and the house…..could things really get any weirder?

Hours passed as Madison slept up until there was a knock at the door, Spring became alerted, his ears standing up straight until he heard a child’s voice through the door, were those her friends? School must have let out, what was he going to do? He didn’t want to scare them but also he didn’t want them to worry about Madison. He thought about it before he went to the door and unlocked it before he ran off to the parents bedroom hoping he was quick enough to not be spotted, the kids heard the door unlock but when it didn’t open they became hesitant, Jack was the one to open the door and go inside “Hello? Madison?” He called out as the others followed in after him, Molly was sporting a long sleeve shirt which she hated but she had to hide all the scrapes and cuts she gained falling and running into sharp things in the dark while trying to run away…..actually they all had injuries of a varies of degrees but none of them were severe like Madison’s injury was, if anything her friends all got off pretty easily in comparison “maybe she’s in her room?” They all were hoping, none of them knew if there friend had been saved or if she was still at the pizzeria but as they went to her room there questions had been answered.

Madison woke up when her friends filtered into the room “Madison you’re okay!” Molly said with great relief as she sat on the edge of her friends bed, Jack sat in the chair while Teddy sat on the floor and Brittany stood “H-hey guys….I wouldn’t say I’m okay but I sure am….something” Jack looked at her with concern “What happened after we all got separated?” The question was one everyone was expecting from Madison, Jack decided he would start out first “After you fell through the floor those things all closed in behind me…..I couldn’t run they were so close so the only option I found was to jump down in the hole after you. I was surprised to land in a ball pit though….it was just really weird and I found you passed out in there, I think those things knew where we were though so I had to drag you into another room to hatch out a plan, until I though up one there was some of those foam blocks in a corner so I guess I made a bed for you to lay on until I got a idea. I’m sorry I had to leave you there but there’s no way the both of us would have gotten past them with you being unconscious so I left, I managed to find some stair, sneak past those things and get out, when I did I promise I ran straight home and told me parents” Jack paused looking away for a moment before he looked back “My parents didn’t believe me though, they thought I made it all up and instead I got in trouble for coming home late” he said it as if it was the usual thing, his parents never believed him.

“My parents were the same way” Molly chimed in “They didn’t believe me either” there was sounds of agreement as the others said something similar about there parents “So wait if nobody managed to get there parents to go to or call the cops then how to she get home?” Brittany made a good question, the room fell silent “Well……i-it’s kind of hard to explain? Well…..honestly its more hard to believe then anything else” Madison didn’t know how to explain so she fell silent “Oh come on don’t leave us on a cliffhanger, out with it” Teddy said more with concern than anything else “One of those uh…..things…..not all of them but one of them didn’t attack me….” The others raised there eyebrows as if they didn’t believe all those things at the pizzeria wasn’t trying to hurt them “and it….he stayed with me until six a.m. and well…..” everyone was listening with disbelief as she said the next thing “He carried me out of the pizzeria and well…..he carried me to my house and he’s currently taking care of me and hiding somewhere in the house from you guys” the room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop “EXCUSE ME?!” That was until Teddy had to break the silence. “Your telling me one of those things is in you house RIGHT NOW???” He looked towards the bedroom door as if expecting that thing to show up as if it had comedic timing or something but the bot never came over “Yup” Madison replied simply “and its taking care of you?” Molly asked thinking that was weird “Yeah…..well the fox one cut my back and the doctor came and had to give me stitches which is why I’m laying like this” everyone fell silent again “Okay maybe your not okay…..” Molly added looking at the others, her orange hair shifted more in front of her face as she spoke “How do your parents feel about all of this?” Brittany asked but Madison did not want to answer, she frowned just looking away as her fiend knew something was up after that.

Spring noticed how quiet it had become in Madisons bedroom as he finished heating up some pizza rolls and putting them on a plate for the kids since he heard him get mentioned, so while wearing a apron he knocked lightly on her bedroom door hesitantly with the plate as all eyes drifted to him all at once, his ears perked up straight as the friends eyes all looked terrified “I uhm…..” he felt awkward and out of place amongst all the staring eyes “I made pizza rolls” Spring put on a cheerful tone presenting the plate like it was some sort of glorious prize that would save him from all the staring eyes.

[spgothkidsheadcanons]

Henrietta x Reader

Warnings: None

No gender is used besides Henrietta’s

Henrietta had a bad habit of staying up all night.

Between work, house chores and the neverending need to do something, she never slept. Sometimes you’d go to bed while she’s sitting at her desk with a cup of coffee, and when you wake up 8 hours later, she was seated in the same spot, furiously drawing up clothes patterns and on her 13th cup of what she calls “Liquid Gold”.

You had begged her for the last 2 and a half years to fix her sleep schedule, but she always wanted to better her work. Modeling was one thing, but her true passion was to make her own clothing brand. And if that meant she has to lose a few hundred hours of sleep by nonstop working, then by Cthulu, she was going to lose those hours happily. You hated seeing her hunched over her desk, balls of paper crumbled up in mountains around her trash can that sat beside her.

You had finally had enough when she pulled her 5th all nighter in a row, and after getting out of the shower and into your pajamas, you stepped into her office, the furious scratching of her pencil having become the only sound in the room. Stepping behind her, you hummed to alert her of your presence, before wrapping your arms around her neck and leaning your head on her shoulder. Watching as she flawlessly sketched new designs on her notepad, you barely noticed when she had turned her head a little to place a kiss on the inside of your arm, before she resumed what she was doing.

You humphed, your lower lip jutting out slightly. Snuggling your face into the crook of her neck, you softly muttered her name. She only replied with a “hm”, not even bothering to look at you. “Hen…” you softly repeated. “Yes?” she replied softly, once again not stopping her work.

You groaned, rolling your eyes even though she wouldn’t have even noticed. “Henrietta… I’m tired.” The ravenette finally looked up, her lidded green eyes accentuated by dark bags. “Shit, you look even more tired.” You snickered softly, standing from leaning against her to cup her cheek. Your thumb stroked her cheek softly, and she leaned into your touch, her heavy lids shutting almost immediately. You giggled at her, planting a kiss against her forehead, before pulling your hand away. Her eyes snapped open and she glared softly at you, her bottom lip jutting out slightly in protest.

“If you come to bed, I promise I’ll hold you face.” You whispered sweetly, a grin tugging the corners of your lips up. Henrietta looked at you, then at her work, then back to you. She set her pencil down, stretching her back and standing up. Through her sleep filled haze, she stumbled a bit, bumping into the table and spilling her coffee onto the paper she was currently working on. “Fuck!” she groaned in frustration. You placed your hand on her arm, rubbing it as a form of comfort. “It’s okay. You were probably going to trash it, anyways.” you quipped at her, once again looking at her waste basket. She gave you a blank face, before shaking her head and chuckling. “Yeah, you’re right. I didn’t like how the train of the dress looked, anyway.” she confirmed, turning to look at you. You grabbed her hand, leading her down the hallway into your shared bedroom.

Snuggling into bed, Henrietta didn’t waste time in changing into her night gown, slipping into bed beside you. As you promised, you snuggled up to her, cupping her face in your hands. You planted soft kisses all over her cheeks, nose and forehead before pulling her into your chest. No less than a minute later, you heard soft snoring from your girlfriend. Finally closing your eyes, you basked in the enjoyment of finally having her all to yourself, soon drifting off to sleep right after her.

[stierhai]

Every Caller Wins A Prize

I started writing this fic for the AU Roulette, but absolutely did not finish. If I do finish, I'll cross-post the finished thing to Ao3 and my dreamwidth.

Series: Ensemble Stars

Primary Characters: Yuuki Makoto, Sena Izumi

AU: Post-Apocalypse (shades of Lovecraftian/Cosmic Horror)

The bright of the decontamination chamber when Makoto enters the inner broadcast station is the closest thing he's seen to the sun in 146 days and counting-- and he thanks his lucky stars for that. It's bad enough, the disconcerting amount of fanletters he gets. It's one thing to know the world is ending, but it's another to read the ubiquitous trauma-dumps about how bad it's going, and yet another if he had to see it with his own eyes.

Hence radio.

And it's not just him. Radio was pretty much a dead medium, he'd thought, getting into it. But now, nope. Now he's got the ears of what's left of the nation. So much for a quiet way to step out of the spotlight, to letting his voice fade out into the AM station's white noise.

On the plus side, he's found he enjoys radio. And he doesn't really have to read his fanmail.

He steps out of the chamber, cool mist clinging to the plastic of his coat as he sheds it. He shakes it over the grate before he hangs it up in the much dimmer, inner hallway. Across the way, Nazuna is still wearing his and dripping on the linoleum, as he waves him a good morning. "Mako-chin! More letters for you! This one's real fancy, give it a whiff!" Nazuna bounds over and waves it beneath Makoto's nose, where the rare scent of mossy earth, fir, and cold water spills upwards from it— he sneezes.

"G-geeze, how do you have this much energy? It's still early, isn't it?" He wipes at his nose, chin to his chest and shoulder to his face as he fishes around in a pocket to double check that he's not late.

Nazuna baps him over the head with the letter, and then presses it under his arm while he takes out his own handkerchief. "Not that early," he says, though Makoto's phone affirms they've got an hour before the broadcast begins. "Here, go freshen up. I'll go put this with the rest of 'em on your desk."

"You're always so reliable, Nito-senpai…" He stops trying to wipe his face in his shirt and takes the offered handkerchief, cheeks going pink as he replaces his phone. "Sorry, I guess I'm still not awake yet. Thanks, I'll get it back to you after."

Nazuna grins up at him and tosses him a casual thumbs up. "No sweat!" And with that, he's jogging down the hallway, plastic coat still on and flinging droplets with each bounce.

Makoto looks down at Nazuna's handkerchief in his hands. Actually, he has his own. But he'd already failed to say anything so the sunflower fabric sits clean and dry, unused in the front flap of his messenger bag. In the washroom, he scrubs his face, scrolls instagram, leaves some likes, skims the news, and then finally wipes away the chlorine-and-disinfectant-scent from the water off his skin.

When he comes to his desk, true to his word, Nazuna has left the stack of letters on his desk with the offending perfumed letter proudly propped up on top. Someone's gone through a lot of effort. The perfume aside, the envelope paper is something heavy weight and crazy nice, a silvery medallion of stamped wax seals it shut, and what's probably an expensive blue ink has penned his name above the address with an overfamiliar nickname. Listeners hear Nazuna call him "Mako-chin" on the air and assume they've got every right to call him whatever they like, too.

Whispering, so Nazuna won't hear even if he chooses this moment to enter the room, Makoto says to himself, "Gross."

Honestly, he can live with Mako-chin. That's something they've heard, something he and Nazuna have let them in on. But sometimes he gets the feeling that all these letters aren't to him at all. Thank you for being there, they write, though he's never met them, not even the once. I'm having a hard time, and the details follow from there. You've done so much for me. Your voice, your kindness, your humor. What are they even talking about? Doubt mounts inside him that he's got any of those things, because the rest of the letter is bunk. He hasn't done anything. He just talks because it's all he can do. He's not cut out for the sunshine, and it increasingly feels like he's not cut out for the limelight either.

He'll have to find a way to put at least this one in the burnables pile without Nazuna noticing.

---

At first, Izumi had tuned into the radio just to help keep track of what day it was. He wasn't the socialite kind of influencer to begin with, so it's not like a little solitude was going to drive him nuts, or anything. Actually, it was nice not to have an idiot chattering in his ears all the time. It'd be totally counterproductive to turn on the radio for background noise, when he'd finally gotten the chance to not have some.

But there's something he can't quite put his finger on about one of the hosts that keeps him coming back.

He doesn't believe in fate. Still, the first time he'd tuned into the broadcast station the host was reading the daily horoscopes— "Taurus, the time between 4 pm and 5 pm will bring some favorable news on the personal front— h-hey, wait! That's now, isn't it?" A beat fuzzy with radio static brushes by as Izumi glances at his clock and sees that it is. The voice comes again too, the timing as if he's just finished the same check. "Ahaha, it really is. I guess I'll let you all know when I get some!"

So he's a Taurus. Izumi rolls his eyes at the hapless camaraderie the radio guy is projecting, playing at friends with his audience. Annoying. It sounds fake as hell. No one's actually that positive. The glance up is as good a reminder of that as anything. Music notes still cling to his unwashed walls, nearest the top where he'd missed them during his first pass scrubbing the room. Irritation flares up as he glares back down at the radio, like it's the one that put them there. Oblivious, the guy on the radio reads out Gemini's future, and then the rest as Izumi fetches cleaning supplies to deal with the rest of the grafitti.

"Next up is the weekly song request hour! Any genre, any artist! Old or new, we want to hear from you!" He laughs, like he can't keep a straight-face at reading the lame copy, before remembering something and breaking into a sidebar. "Oh— just keep it under ten minutes. Uhm, not that last time's prog-rock wasn't cool! But no more Flower Travellin Band for now. Or Mars Volta. Thirty-two minutes is kind of a lot…"

Who the hell lets people request that crap? It's so obvious the station's got trolls, if people are putting in for songs that waste half the run-time. No one with any sense would put up with it, Izumi thinks as he scrubs harder, the brush in his grasp furious with activity..

A phone ring punctuates the broadcast. "Hello and welcome to the radio request hour. You're live on the air, with me, your host: Yuuki Makoto."

"Hiya, Mako-kun." Greets the new voice. "I really owe ya a debt of gratitude, fer keepin' me company all the time. 'M basically livin' with the radio on."

"U-uh, really?" Like it actually catches him off guard. "Wow," Makoto says, like he's impressed anyone would do that, like he's considering how much time it is he spends on the air and that someone would listen to his job like it's their job, and finishes like faced with the huge reality of that he can still scarcely imagine it, "...that's a lot of listening."

"Ngahhh, is it? Didn't mean t'make y'nervous. I just thought Oshi-san over here might like the company, and I don't got too much goin' on in my head, so there's not too much t'say. You've really helped us out. It feels like we've really gotten t' know yah. ♪"

"Ehehe." Izumi can almost hear the blush, the embarrassed but slyly satisified grin sitting behind the mic. "Well, I try to be myself."

"Yer doin' a good job at it." The caller compliments, and then pauses. "Anyway, uh— nggah this'z off topic! Ehh, what was it again— can you do that Mozart guy?"

"—Hey!!" Makoto squawks, indignant. "I said nothing too long!" And then, a gasp, "So that's why you were buttering me up!"

"It wasn't nothin' like that, I swear! I don't have the brain cells for that, promise. It's just… oshi-san woulda like it, I think." A pause, and then after hesitation the voice continues. "Oshi-san doesn't really get up much anymore, not even t'yell when I really mess up. Not since stuff went real sideways. Still… I can't let him be, either. I remembered he liked classics an' stuff, so… mm, it'd be real nice. Mako-kun's voice is good company, but I thought he'd like the Mozart."

A few moments of silence, and then Makoto's voice chimes back in. "... I guess some of them aren't too long. Uhm, let me see here. . . Fugue in G minor? Eine Kleine Nachtmusik?"

"Oh, that last one's the happy one, ain't it? Let's go with that. Listen, Oshi-san, it's one've yer favorites! ♪ Let's give it a good listen together."

Warmly, Makoto agrees, "All right, Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. It's the happier one, too. Let's start the hour off right. Okay everyone, here's Mozart's A Little Night Music! Mozart, take it away."

Izumi's hands had gone still during the exchange, and his chest cold. Soapy water drips down the wall, as the bright allegro of strings alights from the radio speakers. Because he lives alone now, as surely as the caller on the other end of the broadcast does, no one turns it off. He's free to listen, without anyone rolling across the floor or declaring they hate Mozart. If Izumi wants to not hear it, he has to turn off the broadcast himself.

But on his own in the empty flat, the music just plays&mdash he never did understand why that idiot hated Mozart. But in that moment, he hates Mozart. In that moment, he feels like he understands.

So he tunes in daily, after that. ---

A sharp inhale ending in a soft khht-thunk delivers Makoto's mail down the pneumatic tube to his office in the underground bunker of the radio station. He groans and glares at the 2-way intercom on his desk. Of his two coworkers, he knows who to blame. Shinobu would have spirited them into his room without him noticing. This is a Nazuna move. Though Nazuna isn't really in the wrong. . . Makoto shouldn't have left them in a common area to begin with, at least not a working one.

He presses the button that connects to Nazuna and opens the conversation with an apology, sheepish. "Sorry… did I leave my mail in the broadcast room again?"

"Yup. Mako-chin, you can be a real airhead sometimes," Nazuna says, blasé.

"Well, if I'm honest about it…" He spins slowly in his desk chair, looking at the mail heaped at the bottom of the still-closed tube, and then back into place so Nazuna can hear the rest of his reply, "I don't really like them, so I try not to think about them too much."

"Mako-chin! Fans put a lot of effort into those!"

"I know. But still…"

"Still…? Hey, have creeps been after you? Mako-chin! If that happens you've gotta say something! I'll go right to the source and take care of them! I'll beat'r brains in, until it dribbles out dey— deir— their noses! 'Mgonn mudder 'em!"

Oh, Nazuna must be getting really worked up if he's fumbling his words. He can picture his face all red and going redder as he tries to get his mouth to work right, his little frame shaking with protective rage in the big high-backed gamer chair Makoto ordered him.

"No, uhm, it's nothing like that. I'm fi~ne. Really," he placates. "Ahaha, it's still, you know, a little weird for me. . . There's all this big stuff going on, and I just sit in here and read headlines and play music. I'm not doing anything special. The station could manage just fine without me."

"Mako-chin. . . No," Nazuna sounds sympathetic, but not enough to not rebuke Makoto for it. "No, without you, it'd just be the two of us running the whole station. Shinobun would die." That startles a laugh out of Makoto, as Nazuna continues. "So no more saying that. If you don't get why, you're not gonna figure it out without reading any. We can read them together, if you want!"

"Ah, no, I…" Nazuna's probably being nosy, wanting to make sure Makoto really doesn't have a stalker, but Makoto could think of fewer things more embarrassing than reading his fanmail with him. The thought of Nazuna seeing that he's causing all this fuss over a few empty compliments is humiliating. He sighs. "I'll read them by myself. Honest."

Nazuna hmms on the other side of the intercom. "If you say so. Stop leaving them around at least, Mako-chin. It's like you want me to scold you." And with that, Nazuna's end of the line goes dead before Makoto can respond.

Which is just as well, because he didn't have much to say to that.

Before the whole radio host thing, Makoto used to be a pretty high-profile speed runner. Game code buckled, sequences broke, and he shaved seconds off world records. He face revealed in a live-stream documentary— and then reality had folded like origami, the same way it did in his games. He doesn't have any stomach for glitches anymore, for going into the out of bounds and sliding straight through the edges of the world. He barely even likes seeing his face bounced back at him, the way he'd see it on off a retro cabinet's CRT screen.

The way he sees it now, looking at the plastic divider that seperates the booth where live musicians used to play, from the rest of the recording studio that's now his bedroom. In the reflected glare, his bright green eyes the same color as the newly fractured sun.

He inhales, and pulls up a lo-fi playlist to calm his nerves. Skin still crawling, he stands to retrieve his fan letters.

[i-probably-will-hesitate]

Chapter 3 -

How Could I fear Any Hurricane?

8am

Chicago,

Micheal and Ruth Berzatto’s apartment.

15 and a half hours before…

Ruth grumbles, as she is ripped harshly from her dream by the sound of the phone ringing. She fumbles for her mobile, which she left on her bedside table but frowns when she realises it’s not her phone that’s ringing.

With a curse she drags herself from her bed and shivers as she stumbles through the hallway of her apartment. Not for the first time, her annoyance with Mikey bubbles over as she realises it’s the landline that he insisted they needed is ringing.

She stops at the doorway of her room, taking in the scene in front of her, the home phone sitting proudly on the table that sat by the radiator, in rang loudly,

Louder than she had ever thought it could be.

She frowned, “That can’t be possible,” She spoke softly, Ruth moved slowly towards the phone, “That can’t be true,”

She picked the phone up and shakily raised it to her ear, “Hello?”

Ruth put the phone down, slamming it into the cradle, she turned, not willing to look back at it, as she opened the door and walked out of the apartment into the chilling air.

It’s early enough in the morning that the city hasn’t really woken up yet and so Ruth, still dressed in her pyjamas, shivering down the block didn’t draw too many stares.

She stops at the doors of the Original Beef of Chicagoland, she can hear the yelling from the kitchen all the way outside, and hovers at the entrance for what feels like hours. She reaches to open the door and is hit by the heat of the entryway.

“Hey Ruth, what are you doing here?” Richie calls from where he’s passed by the entrance of the kitchen.

She stays quiet, silently swaying, and he opens his mouth in concern.

“Hey are you ok?” He asks, his voice lowered, concern dripping from his words as he starts to walk towards her.

“You’ve still got your pyjamas on,” Richie says before turning his head behind him and shouting, “Mikey,”

She closes her eyes, a long heavy sigh leaving her body as she begins to realise what’s happening, “Richie,” Her voice is timid,

“Yeah?”

“What’s the date?”

Richie’s face drops, “It’s the 22nd of February,” He reaches his hand out, but drops it as she flinches and steps back, “Ruth what’s…” He goes to say but is interrupted by the appearance of Mikey.

“Hey honey, what are you doing he- hey what’s wrong?” Mikey starts as he takes in his wife’s appearance, moving towards her,

She crashes into him and holds him close to her, “I need a cup of coffee,”

Mikey nods, leading her to sit down in the office, before walking off to get some coffee. She wonders if it says something about her that she didn’t beg him to stay.

She shakes her head again.

Ruth turns her head to look around the office, it’s messier than she remembers, filled with shit that Mikey probably doesn’t need but is still insistent to keep, this is where Mikey had kissed her for the first time, he…

She shakes her head again, remembering the last time she had brought up that particular memory, she shivers, the heat of the kitchen not yet reaching her.

The door opens and she turns to see Mikey his way in balancing two cups of coffee as he tries to close the door.

He passes her a cup before sitting down next to her, “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

It’s a simple question but it brings tears to her eyes as she sniffles, “I don’t know Mikey,”

He reaches out and holds her hand, “I just keep having this nightmare,”

Mikey frowns, “What’s the nightmare about,”

His eyes are so big and filled with sadness, Ruth wonders if that sadness was always there, and if it was how could she have missed it?

She shrugs, urging the words to spill from her mouth but nothing comes out, “I was just scared, and I wanted to be with you.”

He smiled at her, “Well I think we can sort that out,”

She smiles back and reaches to brush the hair out of his face, when her eyes land on a small bag that has been hidden away in a pot on Mikey’s desk.

She freezes, that must have been the bag that Richie found, the first day, Ruth wonders how many secret stashes of pills her husband had hidden away, she wonders how she missed it.

A shiver ran down her spine, she moved her head away hoping that Mikey wouldn’t catch on to what she'd seen, but Ruth was too late, Mikey followed her eye line and taking in the contents of the drawer let out a heavy sigh before dropping her hand.

Ruth clenched her fists, she didn’t want to fight, not this time, she didn’t want to say the things she knew she was going to say, to her it could be unsaid, but for him, they would be some of the last words she ever said to him.

She hated herself for that, she hated that she had missed so much of his pain and his torment, that she had ignored it. The day after Micheal’s death, Ruth could barely look at herself on the mirror.

What kind of wife was she… what kind of person was she to have lived with someone and been so blind to what he was feeling what he was going through.

Why had he kept it all a secret, if not because he knew he could not trust her.

Trust to keep it a secret,

Trust her to support him,

Trust her to take the pain away,

Trust her to still love him.

As she took in her husband sat in the cramped office, a defeated look on her face, she wanted to scream and cy, she wanted to take him in her arms and hide him from the world, to stop him from feeling what he was feeling.

A voice crawled out from the back of her head, a slimy voice, one filled with hatred and self loathing, a voice that whispered in her ear that maybe it wasn’t the world that had beaten him down, but maybe it was her.

Maybe she had taken everything good about him and twisted it up until he couldn’t recognise himself without the pills.

She shook her head, she was so tired, and she was so cold, and so without even a glance at her husband she rose from her seat and walked out the door.

Mikey was silent as he watched her go, wondering if this was how he was going to lose her, and if he lost her would he really have a reason to go on.

Ruth was on autopilot as she walked home, blind to her surroundings, the world fuzzy.

She settled in bed, her feet still covered in dirt, sleep surprisingly did not evade her and as she rested her head on her pillow, she was quick to go to sleep.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

11pm

Chicago,

Ruth Berzatto’s apartment.

30 minutes after…

There’s a thunderous knocking at the door, and Ruth groans. She sits up and stares angrily at the wall, tears falling, she lets out a scream so pained and guttural that the knocking at the door pauses for a moment before becoming ten times more intense.

She turns her head to look at the alarm,

11:30

22nd February

It stares at her mocking and angry, she reaches over and pulls the alarm out of the wall, and throws it across the room.

The knocking continues, creating a powerful pounding in her head, she rips the duvet off of her and walks quickly towards the door.

She takes in a slow breath, and hesitates at the door, even though she knows what’s going to happen, she still hesitates. Hoping that maybe if she waits a moment that Mikey will emerge from the bathroom, an annoyed look on his face asking who’s knocking on the door so late.

The door opens, Ruth finds herself surprised she can’t remember turning her hand to open the door.

The officer standing in the doorway has taken his hat off, and with a solemn look on his face raises his hand to make sure that the door doesn’t close.

As if she’ll close the door on him.

“Mrs. Berzatto, may I come in?”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

8 am

NYC,

Ruth Berzatto’s apartment.

15 hours before…

Ruth grumbles, as she is ripped harshly from her dream by the sound of the phone ringing. She fumbles for her mobile, which she left on her bedside table but frowns when she realises it’s not her phone that’s ringing.

She quickly rises from her bed and stalks quickly over to the phone and without any hesitation throws it on the ground.

With a small glare sent the phones way, she made her way back to her room and fell back asleep.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roughly 5 Minutes Later

Ruth sat up with a start, as she rolled to her side and settled on the alarm that sat next to the bed.

8:05

22nd February

A strange sort of feeling came over her body as she took in what the alarm said. The 22nd of February, she sat up.

“It’s the 22nd of February,” She said to herself slowly and carefully,

She smiled, “Oh my god… it’s the 22nd of February,”

Her realisation stopped short as she began running around the apartment picking up her clothes while washing her teeth, and styling her hair.

Her heart was beating faster by the second as she ran out the door and down the block, a smile growing on her face as she realised the chance she had been given. How hard could it be? Just make sure that Mikey didn’t kill himself by 11pm and everything would be fine.

She stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk as she took in what she’d just realised, she needed to keep him in her eyeline for the next, she checked her watch, fourteen hours and forty five minutes and everything would be fine.

Everything would be fixed.

He wouldn’t die, and then tomorrow, she would talk to him calmly and kindly.

She let out a sigh of relief, He was going to live…

She was going to save him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The restaurant was freezing, even though Tina had insisted that the heating was on the highest temperature.

She’d already snuck into the office and picked up the small bag and stuffed it to the bottom of the neighbours trash. She’d huffed a tired breath after digging through the trash to get straight to the bottom. Never had she thought that digging through would fill her with such pride but here she was.

Mikey’s face had been beaming ever since Ruth had walked through the kitchen doors, they had worked together for the whole seven years that they had known one another, but neither of them could ever keep their smiles at bay when the other walked in.

The restaurant was never very tense, in the hours before opening, instead those who worked there decided their time was best spent sharing stories they’d heard a million times before, sprinkled with Richie occasionally shouting at somebody or something.

Ruth closed her eyes, completely at peace as she lent her full weight against her husband who had wrapped his arms around her waist. She frowned as she felt Mikey stiffen behind her. She looked up from where she was watching, laughing, at Tina who was telling the most outrageous story that Ruth had ever heard.

She followed everybody’s eyelines as she took in the man at the doorway, the man who was breathing very heavily, the man from next door,

The man, holding the bag of drugs that Ruth had stuffed in the trash.

She could still smell the lingering scent of the trash on her clothes.

“What the fuck are you doing stuffing this in my trash?”

The eyes of the restaurant moved from the man standing in the doorway to Ruth who seemed to have shrunk against her husband.

The man in the door moved closer, foaming at the mouth, finger pointing straight at her, “Are you gonna answer me you little bitch?”

Mikey shifted, moving Ruth off of him and walking towards the man, “What did you say?”

The next door neighbour’s face went bright red as he stared Mikey down, “Your wife, dumped this in my trash,”

Ruth thought she was going to die.

Mikey shook his head, the rest of the restaurant stood at the ready, almost on their tiptoes, ready to pounce at the man.

“Man, I don’t know what you think you saw but my wife did not put that in your trash,” He raised his finger to point, his face full of anger, “And don’t you dare accuse her of that again,”

Ruth moved forward, closing her eyes briefly as she dreaded what she was about to say,” Mikey,” She started but faltered when he turned and looked at her head on. The look on his face told her everything that she needed to know, and she hated it.

The confusion and pain on his face was something that she was becoming more and more accustomed to seeing, and she hated it.

Mikey stood in the middle of the kitchen, his face saying a thousand words,

But there was one question that she knew must be at the forefront of his mind, she’d obviously found the drugs, so why had she thrown them away?

Something in her eyes must have told him that that question was never going to be answered.

He walked away.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

10pm

Chicago,

Ruth Berzatto’s apartment.

1 Hour Before

Ruth was pacing the apartment.

Mikey hasn’t come home yet and Ruth was filled with panic, he’d usually be home by now and she didn’t know what to do. All the other times he’d come home by now, they’d agree not to talk about it, and then they would go to bed.

Ruth’s plan had been to keep them talking until midnight, meaning he would never have died on the 22nd of February, she had hoped that this would break the cycle, it seemed the universe had decided to throw her another curveball.

She looked down at her watch, watching as the seconds ticked by, she had to make a decision, she couldn’t live through this day again, and so, her hands shaking, she once again left the apartment, into the cold night air, towards Mikey.

She didn’t have to wonder where he was, after he’d died she’d visited the spot every day, Sugar had said it was unhealthy, but to her it was the only way to feel close to him once again.

The spot that Mikey had committed suicide, had been, in her mind, the only spot he had been able to find peace in a very long time, and so she had visited it every day. Ruth had partially hoped that maybe she could find the same peace he had found, barring that she had planned to jump off the State Street Bridge, although she had decided to wait until after the funeral.

She checks her watch again,

10:55

She still has time as she comes to the edge of the bride, with a deep shuddering breath she begins to walk along, knowing that Mikey had not been very far from the entrance.

She had thought about this alot, what he had looked like, what he’d been thinking, if she’d been there, would he have still done, or would he have waited? Would he have taken her home and then two days later shot himself in another part of chicago?

She shuddered at the thought.

She stops, as she sees Mikey about 2 metres in the distance, he’s not pacing like she thought he would be, he’s not frantic, he’s… calm. He’s leaning his hands over the edge as he takes in the view, Ruth can see the outline of the gun in his hand.

All of a sudden she freezes, what does she say?

How does she get her husband to not kill himself?

What if he still does it, right here in front of her?

What if he doesn’t?

Mikey turns and completely stops when he sees her standing there.

No words have to be spoken, they both know what he’s planning.

“Mikey,” She breathes softly.

He shakes his head, “Just go home Ruth, this will all be over soon,” His words are foreign and not like him and it breaks Ruth’s heart.

She tries again, “Mikey, please, tell me what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t, I can’t,”

She looks at him, “That’s ok, why don’t we go home and talk about it?” She moves closer, “I promise, I’m not angry, and i’m not judging you, I just want to come home,”

He doesn’t move,

“Please Mikey,”

He stays silent, she looks down at her watch,

10:58

There’s still time, a voice whispers in her head.

“Mikey, I have lived this day four times, in my reality you have shot yourself on this spot three times, this will be your fourth,” She takes in a breath, “In all honesty I have been so wrapped up in my own grief I have failed you three times, and I will not fail you again,”

Her voice breaks as she pleads with him, “I have known you for seven years, and I have been married for five, and I never once saw you, saw how much you were hurting, how much pain you were in, and I am sorry,”

Mikey stays silent.

“But it doesn’t have to be like this, you do not have to do this for everything to be better, we’ll look at rehab and therapy and you can be ok Michael,” Ruth looks at him her expression hopeful, as he stares at her blankly,

“Please Mikey,”

He looks at her, “Ruth, my life is a fuck up, I’m in debt, I take pills, I am a fuck up, you could do so much better, you all could,”

She shakes her head, angry, “Mikey, listen to me, we’re all fuck ups, we all have dreams that are slowly eroded by reality, but you? I have dreamed of you since I was a little girl, and I will be damned if I let you go so easily,”

She smiles at him, “You are it for me Mikey, so don’t you dare say I could do better, that any of us could, we only want you Mikey,”

Her smiles grows softer as he lowers the gun and places on the bridge at his side, looking at her, “I’m not magically fixed, I can’t promise that this is going to be easy, that I’m not going to be back here in two months,”

She took his hand in hers, “But your alive,” She smiled, “I can work with that,”

She looked at her watch,

11:02

She breathed a sigh of relief, staring up at Mikey, she went to open her mouth, when strange feeling came over her, it felt like the universe was pounding on her head and squeezing her stomach as she felt the need to throw up grow louder and louder by the second,

And then it stopped…

And she woke up.

[alphareleasemedia]

Daily Drabble Project May 1-10

5/1/23 Great waves crashed upon the shore in the dimming light of the day's end. In the distance the great lighthouse towered over the sea, its shining light spilling out over the dark and troubled water. Mitsy stumbled towards it as quickly as her tired and soaked body could take her. She was caught between the fierce waves and the jagged rocks that lined the beach, ever aware that one strong wave could end it all. At the bottom of a cliff, atop which the lighthouse stood, Mitsy paused for a moment to catch her breath. Then she began to climb.

5/2/23 Zuzu drifted sleepily down the dark hallways of her home and into the kitchen. The fridge blinded her with its heavenly light as she swung open the door. As her vision slowly returned to her Zuzu scanned the fridge for easy targets. Easy targets like the blackberries she finished off, or the honey baked ham lunch meat that she scarfed down one slice after another till she'd finished that too. Zuzu's 2 a.m. cravings still not satisfied she searched fervently for what else she could feast on with no effort. At last, Zuzu reached for the bag of shredded cheese.

5/3/23 I thought about calling up Dimple to ask him if he wanted to come over that evening and hangout. We could play video games or watch a movie or just sit on the porch and talk about nothing for hours like we could do sometimes. Ultimately, I decided not to. As much as I enjoyed hanging out with Dimple, I didn't think it was company, his or anyone's, that I was craving. I was quite excited to have the house to myself for the evening actually. But still a certain restlessness itched in my mind. A need I couldn't name.

5/4/23 Hara wasn't sure what she wanted for her birthday. Like, sure, she could ask for a bunch of stuff, but then she'd have a bunch of stuff. And then what would she do with it? She already had a bunch of stuff. Did she really need more? But she couldn't just tell people not to get her anything for her birthday. Even if she really didn't want anything and everyone knew that they'd probably still feel weird about not getting her anything. Which was dumb but true. And besides, some people just loved giving presents. It was a whole thing.

5/5/23 Pepper came by today to check on me. I told her I was fine and managing well enough on my own. She seemed skeptical but she didn't visit for too long. At the very least she was convinced that I had more than enough food to keep me fed for a while. Thankfully she didn't bring more to add to the growing pile. While I'm grateful for everyone's concern I feel like I'm starting to drown in it. Everyone is so eager to be helpful, I have no time to myself. What I wouldn't give for just a little quiet.

5/6/23 Simpkey had to consider his options carefully. For as much as everyone assured him there was no wrong choice, he knew there decidedly was. Several, in fact. He just didn't know what they were. The main problem, ultimately, was that there were far too many options. Simpkey had tried to narrow the field, but his companions gave him no additional information to aid in that endeavor. Save for what he already knew of their own personal tastes to eliminate the obvious. There was nothing for it. Simpkey would just have to pick a bad movie and face his friends' displeasure.

5/7/23 Yossy, Hossy, and Lossy set out from home one fine morning to go visit their Aunt. The sky was blue, the trees were green, and birds sang merrily as the three sisters walked along. Yossy loved birds and stopped to listen to their song. Hossy loved trees and as she walked beneath their branches she was overcome with a desire to climb up into them. Lossy hated being outside in the sun for too long, and so she hurried along to her Aunt's as quickly as possible and never noticed that she had lost her sisters somewhere along the way.

5/8/23 Deedle chewed on his fingernails as he watched the race. Not from nerves though. Nail biting was just a bad habit of his that Deedle had never been able to break. He was actually very calm about the race, giving way to his gross habit more from boredom than anything. The problem was that Deedle just couldn't get excited about watching a bunch of cars going round and round in their little circle. It wasn't half as interesting as the movies had promised him it would be. He really couldn't understand all the people watching with great excitement and energy.

5/9/23 The mountain loomed majestically in the background. Looking so much like it was doing its best to mimic a postcard or perhaps a travel brochure. Yes, the landscape was amazing and beautiful to look at, but that was just appearances. The reality of it all was much less picturesque. The delightful greenery was home to about a million and one mosquitos all ready to suck a man dry. But there were much larger terrors looming in the trees. Hungry beasts with razor teeth and giant claws. To say nothing of the vicious prehistoric behemoths that roamed fearlessly wherever they pleased.

5/10/23 The little bird hopped around in the grass. He was looking for worms. The sun had barely risen and the air was still gray and full of mist. The dirt was damp and cool beneath the little bird's feet. The soil was soft and loose and easy for him to thrust in his beak to retrieve his breakfast. The little bird was not alone in his early morning endeavor. Other little birds flitted about nearby, also looking for breakfast. Up above them in the trees the doves cooed sleepily to each other and the song birds heralded the new day.

[sakuraryomen01]

Lost Lamb /OG Sukuna x Reader/ .o3

>>----------------------------------------&lt;<

✧ Warning: Og Sukuna Ryomen, blood, servant reader, Master x Servant, protector/predator x reader kind of relationship, someone dies (somewhat of a reminder of who you work for and Sukuna being pissed off), burying the body, Sukuna helps you with washing this time, a little time with Sukuna in the library.

✧ Reader: Female Reader

✧ Plot: A Master x Servant Fanfiction in which Sukuna, the king of curses, finds you snooping in his temple and he makes you pay for your crimes for the rest of your life..

✧ Words: 4.314k

fic masterlist :: .o1 .o2 .o3 .o4 .o5 .o6 .o7 .o8 .o9 .10 .11 .12

·A/n: No thoughts, just a four-armed demon man..

~~

♡ Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy! ♡

>>----------------------------------------&lt;<

Your knees pressed against the marble flooring as you washed it down clean of dirt or anything random stain. Taking extra care of the temple with Uraume that day was important, seeing as Sukuna was having guests over to discuss his protection fees for the chief's village.

"Make sure this floor is clean enough to eat off, is that clear?"

He's been in a sour mood the last few days, ever since you returned from the village with the yukata in fact. Was it your fault? You didn't know, but you didn't want to be in trouble with him, seeing as you nearly spilled his breakfast on him earlier that day.

But you still wondered, though you knew you couldn't just ask him outright or that would get you a firm talking too.

"What's the sour look for, Y/n?" Uraume asked, sitting up and wiping their brow free of sweat.

Thankfully, the cut they eared from cooking a few days ago was slowly healing. Now, it was nothing but a scab that was probably going to finish healing within a day or two.

Thanks to Sukuna's reversed cursed technique..

Reaching up and feeling around your throat, you noted that the former aching was gone and your speech seemed to be getting better thanks to Uraume's herbal tea and some good baths and medicine.

"Oh, nothing, Uraume." You mumbled, staring down at the floor and sighing. "Just thoughts like normal."

Uraume didn't press on the topic, though the silence that followed made you feel uncomfortable for a moment until you heard the loud thumps of Sukuna's footsteps coming up behind you.

Uraume gave a small nod to his presence before returning back to their work, Sukuna's eyes glaring down at the back of your neck and making your body squirm in discomfort. Looking up, you had to fight back the flinch that dared to arise when you saw the intense stare Sukuna wore.

"Yes, Lord Sukuna?" You asked, sitting up and placing the rag in your hand on the floor.

"...Nothing," Sukuna finally answered, his folded arms shifting around. "Just clean the hallways to our rooms during the meeting."

Stepping off to the baths, you let the breath you were holding in out and let your eyes follow Sukuna until he was out of sight. Looking over at Uraume, whom was still working on their assigned area, before grabbing the rag and going back to your chores.

The wait for the villagers and their chief was a grueling task. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours until the sun was at its peak around noon. Uraume met up with you beforehand and pointed to your room.

"Stay in there until it's over," They whispered, reaching out and gently holding your hand. "I'll come get you for dinner and help you with the gardens afterwards."

Creaking echoes of the large temple doors filled the hallways and corridors, the screeching noises filling your ears too. In that moment, Uraume bowed their head and headed off to the main hall, letting go of your wrist and leaving you alone.

I should listen to them. You turned, facing the path to your room before something inside you told you to disobey.

I'm going to have my hide handed to me if they find me...

Taking a quick breath, you turned around and stared down the hallway. Quickly running over, trying to be as quiet as possible, you made your way over to one of the statues that sat at the end of the hall.

The statue itself hid you fairly well; being of Sukuna around 15 feet tall or so, large drapes over his torso and ending around his ankles. It wasn't a particularly good hiding spot, but it had to do.

Peeking from around the corner, you watched as Sukuna sat down on his throne and tapped his nails against the skulls of his armrest. An unpleasant sneer contorted his features until the leader of the small group bowed to his feet, his companions following suit.

"Thank you for meeting us today, Lord Sukuna," The chief said, his voice echoing in the throne room.

"I hope you're okay with discussing our agreement at such a short time."

"It's not that I mind, it's just being intrigued by your offer."

The chief wore some rather expensive looking clothing; gold yukata with a lighter tone sewed into a swirling pattern and a red coat over that, as if to symbol good luck. A bat hat sat on top of his head, his black hair thoroughly combed and tied with a small red bow.

The rest of his group wasn't as finely dressed, though they did seem to have clothing you wouldn't be able to afford without Sukuna's money.

I really should've bought some clothes that day..

"Skip the pleasantries," Sukuna's tone sounded irritated like it was before. "I don't want to be here for much longer, seeing as I had to wait for so damn long."

"R-Right," He mumbled, a slight panic in his movements that led to a small shaking for the rest of the evening.

Silently, you sat down and listened to the chief's offer make your heart stop cold.

"So, as I offered in town, I'd give you two women per month as a payment for your protection. I wanted to ask you for extra this month, seeing as there's going to be soldiers from the north coming in and having a meeting with me."

"Soldiers? What are they from?"

An offer of sacrifices? ..Uraume was right, I should've gone to my room.

The meeting with the villagers for protection didn't last as long as you had first thought, though you did wish later on that you hadn't decided to sneak in and watch the rest of it. Sukuna's irritation with the small band of humans only seemed to grow, the evidence shown through his constant tapping.

His nail created a new dent in the skull as the meeting wore on before Sukuna raised a hand.

"I'm done with your talking," Sukuna started, standing up. "This conversation about your pathetic village is boring me. And the sound of your voice is rather annoying."

"B-But, you swore that you'd keep us safe from-"

Raising a hand, Sukuna silenced the man from speaking any further and stepped towards him. The grimace on his face not leaving until a crooked smile that flashed his canines and a deep glow emitted from his eyes.

An obvious shiver was sent down the man's spine, seeing the cursed spirit so close. Sukuna though, seemed to revel in the looks of fear and terror. His eyes slowly looked over the small group, his head making slow movements til he stopped, staring down at a young woman that was wearing a monk outfit much like your own, though the colors reminded you of roses and lilies like in the gardens.

"You. Stand." He muttered, the smile on his face leaving.

She did as asked, though, what happened next chilled you to the bone. Her hands shaking as she stood, getting closer and closer to the king. A silence filled the air, the band of villagers kneeling still as they patiently waited for Sukuna's next order or word.

And soon blood splattered the formerly clean floor, the droplets falling from the tips of the obsidian colored nails of Sukuna Ryomen. The woman's body fell to the ground at his feet, limp, slowly draining of the crimson liquid.

You brought a hand to your lips, stifling the utter scream that begged to be released. Eyes wide in disbelief at the sight of the dead woman, her clothing being soaked and her hair falling from it's binds.

"I'm no longer protecting your village," Sukuna uttered, blinking slowly. "You're worthless humans and I no longer have need of your services. I'm surprised that I even took as long as I did to realize that you're worthless."

You could see tears falling from the chief's eyes, staring down at the lifeless body of the girl in front of him. Sorrow filled your heart as you watched Sukuna step away, leaving towards the library, flicking his wrist until his fingers were no longer stained with the blood of the girl.

"Please make your way outside," Uraume announced, lifting an arm to gesture to the door. "Sukuna would like further discussion with you, sir."

"W-Wait, no!" He yelled, standing and sobbing at the sight of the girl. "You killed my daughter! I should have protection for this, for killing my only child!"

"Sir, leave." Uraume muttered, facing away from you. "Sukuna doesn't wish to speak to you anymore-"

"DAMN YOU, YOU MONSTERS!"

A tense feeling filled your gut, your eyes still glued to the corpse as the chief screamed. His cursing of Sukuna lasted for a moment before Uraume started urging him outside, their face unreadable as they pushed the group outside. The chief's yelling and screaming over the loss of his child triggered your stomach to churn, a dry heave leaving you and forcing you to head to the baths.

Your eyes were shut tight, hands clutched to your chest and bolting down the hall before you bumped into a large chest. Falling to the ground, you felt your head and looked up, seeing tattoos and an unreadable expression.

"What are you doing in the halls, servant?" Sukuna asked, his voice cold. "Uraume asked for you to be your room, did they not?"

You couldn't respond, your eyes trailing down to the stained yukata that Sukuna wore. The blood splatters ruining the perfectly white fabric and the sky blue embroidered patterns.

"Answer me, human!" Sukuna suddenly shouted, making you flinch.

"Y-Yes! I mean.. y-yes, they did..."

A snort left him and he glanced down at your shivering form, eyes lifting up to the victim's body and the blood on his clothing. Before bringing his eyes up to you, his voice became quiet.

"Get into the baths and try to calm yourself. I'll send Uraume to prepare supper while you're cleaning yourself up."

Without another word, Sukuna headed into his room and closed the doors behind him. Standing, you did as you were told, swallowing the lump in your throat and making your way to the showers.

"And clean that body up when you're done."

Stripping as soon as you got into the room and poured some hot water into the large tub. Grabbing some towels, you placed them on a chair nearby, moved the blinds from the window, and climbed into the warm water. Reaching for the rag and dipping it into the soppy water, you wash your arms and legs. The underside of your breasts and your stomach followed by your shoulders and lower regions, the sound of a door opening only peaking your interest for a moment.

"Uraume, do you mind washing my-" You started, but silenced the moment you felt the demanding presence of him.

"Wash what?" Sukuna asked, looking from behind the screen. "Do you need help?"

"U-Uh!!" Your face burned a deep red, covering your chest and body as best you could from his gaze. "N-No thank you, Master!!"

Sukuna gave you a dead panned look before shaking his head and walking over, picking up the discarded rag on the floor and dipping it into the water behind you. A jolt being sent up your spine before you waved a free hand out at him, your already flustered face seeming to amuse him further.

"S-Sir, you don't need to help me!" Your face burned hard, your ears rising in temperature too as Sukuna raised a hand to your face.

"Shut up and turn around," He said, placing his hand around your mouth to silence you. "You look like you need some help anyway, and Uraume is working in the kitchen. Just let me, alright?"

A smirk played his lips at your hesitation. "I promise I won't bite."

Widened eyes told him he had probably flustered you more, to which he laughed at before releasing his hold on your face and running a nail down your jaw.

"Just turn around and let me wash your back. Besides, I can wash my hands off while I'm in here."

Taking a breath, physically and mental reviving, you turned your back to Sukuna and made sure to not flash him the whole time in the bath. He pressed the rag to your back and guided it around, gently pressing down and scrubbing at parts most dirty and dipping the rag into the water again before returning it to its spot.

"..Explain why you disobeyed Uraume's orders." Sukuna started, glancing over at you for a moment.

Washing your face off, free from soap, you blinked a few times and sighed. "I don't really know, Master. Something just told me to stay."

"Hmm."

Tension arose as Sukuna went silent for a moment, washing your back and the occasional sound of the rag dipping into the water the only sound you could hear. Other than the birds singing outside or the faint sounds of your breath as your throat tightened.

"Take what you saw as a reminder, mortal," Sukuna spoke, his voice soft but firm. "I'm not a human, nor am I your friend. I can kill you for simply being as useless as those villagers were.."

I know you could, Sukuna.. Your mind mumbled, your head lowering slightly.

I know you can kill me the moment I irritate you, disobey you, or become useless. You're not a human, a friend, or a companion. We're nothing but a servant and a master, and I'm serving out my life's sentence with this punishment.

I'm a thief and a coward in your eyes..

"..If you don't mind me asking, sir," You started, lifting your head and looking over your shoulder at the large cursed spirit.

"What did that bear toy mean? Why did you give it to me?"

Sukuna seemed to take a moment to recall what you were speaking of, stilling before dropping the rag and washing his hands.

"Just as the note said, I thought you might need something to hold while you slept." He responded, finishing up your back and standing to get a towel for you.

"Here, step out."

You stared at him, your eyes flicking from the towel to Sukuna and back again for a few more rounds. "But I'm naked, Master."

Another dead panned look.. Sighing, you covered as much as you could, getting out of the tub as Sukuna got closer.

He wrapped the fluffy towel around you, kneeling for a moment to dry your hips and sides off. Your eyes were glued to his face, for some odd reason, and watched his rather calm expression as he dried you off.

Suddenly it hit you how large he was compared to you.

His large form was still a head or two taller than you, despite kneeling to the ground. Large hands palming your small body as you slowly dried. Grazing your soft thighs every so often and making sure you were dry, looking up at you when he was finished, your cheeks heating up again.

"There, now get dressed and head into the dining hall for dinner," Sukuna said, standing and leaving the baths.

The door closed behind him as he made his way down the hall and towards the dining hall, leaving you alone and clean.

Wait... You looked down at your body, some drops of water falling to the floor before you looked up at the door again.

Did he just bathe me?

Shaking your head, you got dressed and headed into the main hall. Seeing the dead body still there, you choked on a scream as you took deep and slow breaths.

Remembering Sukuna's orders, you swallowed the cries that wanted to leave, but ran off to grab a towel. Taking the body outside, you could hear yourself sniffling like a little baby, making a burial place for the girl and dumping her into it.

You had chosen a sakura tree that was slowly blooming, something you thought would be nice for such a lady.

When you placed her in the hole, you saw how her formerly clean, white kimono was now stained with blood and dirt. You stood there and stared at her lifeless body for a few moments, holding onto the shovel that was in your hand.

Carefully, you dumped shovelful after shovelful of dirt onto the poor woman. She was no older than you were; a young adult, around 17.

You couldn't take it, seeing her that way, but you had to give her a burial. At least give her a luxury you won't have in the future. Once you had finished compacting the soil and placing a small band of blue lilies at the base of the tree, you took a few steps back and put your hands together.

"May you rest in peace, and find yourself in a beautiful paradise."

Your eyes stayed closed for a moment before you opened them and sighed, kneeling and patting the ground. Dusting off your lower half and dirty hands, you bowed and headed back inside.

The stain on the ground was slowly being soaked up by the towel you had left behind. So, you dipped down and started cleaning up the rest; your face sullen at the sight of the blood splatter, but you had seen worse.

Burnt bodies flashed through your mind, making you tense up. Shaking your head, you continued cleaning until the mess was gone.

✧.✧.✧

"Uraume?" Your voice choked out, still raw from crying, though the kitchen was bare and empty as you looked around for the white haired monk.

When no one answered or came out, you walked away and into the dining room to find Uraume plating the food. Three spots are made around the end farthest from you, placement mats being set along with the setting pillows.

"Do you feel better?" Uraume asked, lifting their gaze up to you. "Sukuna told me you didn't listen when I told you to go to your room."

"Yes, and I'm sorry for that," You apologized, quickly walking over and helping. "I really should've listened to you."

"Mhm."

For the next few moments, you and Uraume worked in silence. Plaiting the food and fixing the chopsticks and bowls for broth, until the sound of Sukuna stepping into the room made you both look up. He had changed out of his blood-stained robes from before, probably left them on his bed for you to collect later for laundry.

"Good evening," Sukuna said, walking over as you both bowed your heads. "Sit, join me."

Doing as you're told, you sat down and pressed your hands together. "Itadakimasu, thank you for the meal."

"Thank you," Uraume finished, picking up a small broth bowl and chopsticks.

Picking up a dumpling and dipping it into the soup before bringing it to their lips and chewing quietly. Sukuna did the same and reached for two and ate them whole. When you didn't budge, Sukuna gave you a confused look, still chewing on a dumpling.

"Are you not going to eat?"

"Oh, sorry," You muttered, grabbing your utensils and grabbing some food. "Just lost in thought, sir."

Shit, I really got to learn to call him 'master' instead.

"Good," Sukuna said, grabbing some takoyaki and dipping it into some sauce. "Don't want you going hungry."

"Mhm."

You sat at the table and silently ate with them, until Sukuna looked your way and grabbed your attention. "Go clean the gardens after dinner. The cobblestone has collected more dirt, so sweep it off."

"Of course, Master," You said, picking up some chicken.

"Uraume, do the dishes and join her, and make sure she does it right."

"Yes, Lord Sukuna."

After a few more words were exchanged, Sukuna stood up and left, belly full and ready for a bath before bed. Before he exited, he looked over at you and glared, making your heart stop and your breath caught in your throat.

"Don't disobey me again."

You nodded, looking down at your hands, clasped in your lap, and listened to Sukuna's final footsteps out of the dining room. Uraume and you sat for a little while longer until they stood and started gathering the plates.

"Go clean, Y/n." They said, pushing the cart away and stopping at the door.

"...And he's right, don't disobey him. He's got a short temper, and like you witnessed today, he'll kill you without hesitation."

That little warning stayed with you as you went to your room and grabbed the book you finished last night. Heading the library in silence until you reached your destination. Looking up and seeing Sukuna there waiting for you.

He pink, spiky hair still slicked back like always and a kimono that barely was able to cover most of his torso.

"I had a feeling you'd be here," He said, staring down at you with folded arms. "Studying?"

"Uh, no, actually," You said, lifting up the book in your hands. "I finished this last night and came to return it."

"You read a book?"

"Mhm. I really liked it; it's about an adventurer... N-Nevermind."

Pulling the heavy door open, you went inside and scanned the bookshelves. Looking for the column number and row, bringing over a ladder when you did, and put the book back. Gently pushing the old book between the others, dusting off a few of them.

"Adventure?"

You looked down, seeing Sukuna at the base of the ladder and smiled. "Yeah! So far though, I've been into stars and stuff!"

"Stars?" Sukuna asked, glancing out the window and seeing the sun start to set. "Why those? They're just fireballs in the sky."

"They look so interesting, that's why!" You giggled, coming down the ladder and standing next to the curse.

"They sparkle because of something called atomic nuclei and the gases fusing with larger amounts of them! And consolations! They're so pretty to look at once you've found one.."

You didn't even realize you were rambling or grabbing random books about the subject until you looked up and saw Sukuna's surprised face. Eyebrows raised at your sudden rambling about stars, looking down at you like he's never seen you before.

"Uh.. S-Sorry, I just really like stars," You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up again. Covering them, you bowed and put the books back, and ran off to the gardens.

What the hell was that?!

Running outside, you passed the fresh grave and grabbed a broom, mading your way down to the path. Sweeping the cobblestone, you looked back up at the shrine and felt your face flush, covering up until the heat resided.

I'm acting like a little girl with a crush.. What's wrong with me??

Sukuna, on the other hand, was still in the library, holding onto books that you had forgotten and staring at the ground where you were before. The sparkle in your eye, talking about your favorite subject, it was.. amusing.

He had never seen a small human like yourself to go onto a rant and forget he was even there.

He was used to being stared at in fear, glared at in panic and sorrow. Women, children, and men alike all hated him for being the King of Curses, yet you act as if he was simply a friend.

Sukuna had told you time and time again that you weren't 'buddies', yet you continued to do these things. For some reason though, it wasn't making him angry, or annoyed, but confused.

Normally, he didn't particularly like being confused. This felt a little different though; seeing you get all caught up in your thoughts, it was... cute.

"Cute.." Sukuna repeated aloud, blinking and looking down at the astrology book in his clawed hand. "Angry, annoyed... I'm confused."

Lifting each book up with one of his hands, Sukuna looked from book to book and skimmed through the first few pages. Unable to find the appeal in stars or the sky, but he kind of wanted to know why you did.

Maybe he could ask you? No, that's odd for her master to do; just walk up and ask what makes the stars so amazing to you-

"Lord Sukuna?"

Looking up, Sukuna spotted Uraume at the doorway and dropped a book or two, to his surprise as well as his servant's. Picking them up, Sukuna headed for the columns and put them back quickly, hearing Uraume get closer and closer.

"By the way, what is Y/n looking at these for?" Sukuna asked, handing Uraume one of the books while situating the others.

"Y/n was looking at these last night," They answered, running a finger over one of the covers. "She was going on and on about hoping to go out and gaze at them for hours on end."

"Did she?" Sukuna asked, looking down at the book and up at his bookcase.

The thing just barely touched the ceiling of his shrine, though he had never really remembered the last time he took a moment to read them. "Well, I'm heading off to bed now. She should be almost done with the garden, correct?"

"Correct." Uraume nodded, putting the last book up. "But, really quick. Do you mind me asking what you think of Y/n?"

Sukuna stared at Uraume for a moment, seeing their eyes not leave his as he pondered his answer.

"A servant, nothing more."

"Hmm," Uraume looked down at the ground, bowing after a moment. "Goodnight, Lord Sukuna."

Heading to their room, Sukuna was left alone until he left. Getting to his room and into bed, stripping off the kimono and sitting on the bed.

"A servant is all you are," Sukuna muttered to himself, laying down and staring at the ceiling until he closed his eyes.

A servant, nothing more...

Right?

Hello hello, lovely readers! Part 3 finally is finally finished, and I hope you enjoyed the little hints of a crush and such, but I hope to get more story in before the love part starts! Thank you for the support and love going into it and hope you have fun reading!

It feels weird to me, being that this part is shorter than the last part. 😅💕💕

~~~

Song listened to during writing ⬎

Alexander Rybak – Fairytale (LYRICS)

~~~

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @watermelon-online, @xx-intothevoid-xx, @taetropchou, @pipopeew, @noblemaidenheart

~~~

Property of sakuraryomen01™ Please do not steal, copy or repost onto any other platform.