#but i cleaned her up a little and brushed and fluffed her

[hem1ock]

inconsolably emotional over this comment on a stuffed animal cleaning video

[artdcnaldson]

ugh "leverage" to ensure she won't go tattling to patrick. especially as he starts getting meaner and meaner, he tells her it's to make sure she doesn't back out and tell on him. because patrick would genuinely kill art if he knew what he's been doing to his baby sister.

i know it doesn't really fit in the canon of the other parts to this au, but hear me out anyway... what if he agreed to fuck her, properly this time, in her sweet little pussy. BUT he needs said leverage to make sure she keeps quiet about it (truly he just needs to immortalize taking her virginity so he can watch it back for the rest of his life). so he "agrees", he's the one to bring it up lol, on the condition that he can record it. y'know like really shitty, amateur, pov style, on her creaky dorm bed and pink, frilly sheets. shaky and grainy, but it's good enough for him. it's not like he would ever actually post it anywhere or show people, but she doesn't know that.

he gets off on how nervous she is when he points the camera at her, she's blushing and trying to hide her face. but he just slaps her cheek and manhandles her to look right down the lens of his shitty phone camera. tells her to moan louder around his big cock, tell the camera how good he feels, really just stroking his own ego. makes her tell the camera exactly how he's making her feel, can't cum unless she asks into the camera. he nearly cums right inside her when she tells him he's too big and it hurts :(((((

yummy yummy yummy

-🐞

OHHHHHHH <3 I had to let this simmer. This had to ruminate. Had to really let it sit and grow legs or whatever wine people say idk

RATING: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v, degradation, making a sex tape, loss of virginity, world’s worst aftercare), mean!art as always, uncomfortable power dynamics, DUBCON due to coercion

He catches you leaving one of your classes, chatting happily with a few girls as you walk. Their eyes widen as he approaches, smacking his gum, looming tall over them. You murmur a quick apology and bound over like an obedient little pet, falling into stride beside him as he walks.

“What class is that?” He asks, nodding back towards the building. Most of the time he forgot you even attended the school beyond cheering at his games and floating around his dormitory like a ghost.

“Peoples and cultures,” you reply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s an anthropology course I’m taking. It’s actually really interesting, like, these past few lectures have been—“

“What are you doing tonight?” He interrupts, not really caring beyond the simple answer to his question. He has a one track mind, and for the moment he’s just thinking about getting in your pants.

He watches you think, then shrug. “Um… nothing, I guess? Why?”

Art stops by a tree suddenly, tugs you by your wrist to stop with him. “Do you promise if we fuck you won’t tell Patrick?” He watches as your eyes widen, as sheer need and excitement makes you practically vibrate out of your skin.

Frantically you nod. “I’d never tell Patrick, I’d take it to my grave, I swear,” you say, totally earnest, bouncing on the balls of your feet as he looks at you.

“God, I want you so bad,” he hums, brushing your hair back behind your ear. You melt beneath his touch, gaze all half-lidded and soft. “I just… I think I’d have to have some leverage, just to make sure no one ever finds out.”

You tilt your face, resting it on his hand, your eyes half-lidded and dazed with need. You hum a soft, “Mhmm,” without even knowing what he’s implying, what he’s asking of you. But he hears what you’re thinking, all dumbed down and needy— yes, Art, whatever you say Art, anything you want, Art.

He wants to do it in your room, that night. He walks you back to your dorm and tells you to get your roommate out, make sure she’s busy for however long you need. He’d text you when he’s on his way.

So you’re just… fucking vibrating with excitement, cleaning up your dorm, changing your sheets, fluffing your pillows. You light three warm vanilla sugar candles so the dorm smells nice and sweet, put on your roommate’s SEXXXMIXXX <3 CD that she had burned in High School (and kept your fingers crossed it was still relevant). You took the longest fucking shower of all time, scrubbed your skin until it stung, shaved you’re entire body, wondered if maybe he wouldn’t like bald pussy, then worried that he’d hate if you kept the hair even more. Moisturized, then put on pretty, light makeup— lipgloss, mascara. All in the span of time it took for him to text you.

Art :) <3

omw

You feel a little dizzy by the time he’s at your door, already wet just anticipating what you were about to do. He grins down at you, at your silky little pajama set, pink and lacy around the edges. Smacks his gum, trails his hand along the sides of your waist.

“Pretty.” He looks smug as he rubs the lace between his fingers. “You got all dressed up for me, huh?”

It’s amazing how timid and shy you can look as you stand in front of him, biting onto your lip as you nod. He shuts the door behind him and guides you backwards until you knock against your bed and laugh nervously. Jesus, he’d already fucked your ass, your throat, he’d done things to you that even the dirtiest fucking sluts on campus wouldn’t dream of allowing. But you’re all shy because he’s finally going to fuck you properly?

You gasp as he tugs down the neckline of your top, exposing your tits to the cool air of the dorm. So cute, soft. Your nipples already hard and sensitive, so just the lightest pinch makes you let out a pretty moan.

“Remember what I said about leverage?” Art says, and you nod slowly, dreamily. “I want to film it.”

Your eyes widen slightly, as you think back to the pictures he’d taken of you just a few weeks prior. “And you’d… what? Like post it if Pat finds out?”

“No, no, only if you tell,” he corrects. Even then… he doubted he’d actually ever post it anywhere. He had a tennis career to consider, after all. But the important thing was that you believe he will. “It’s just to make sure this stays our secret.”

You swallow, consider it. You didn’t plan on telling Patrick, so it was fine, right? He’d hate Art, and you didn’t want that. You would never want that, no matter what.

So you nod softly. “Okay,” you say finally. “I’d… yeah, I understand. Okay.”

God, you’re easy. So fucking easy it makes him a little sick to think about. What if he wasn’t Patrick’s friend, if he was some frat house asshole who would take advantage of how bad you wanted him? You’re so lucky he’s a good person.

He uses your own fucking digital camera— pink and decorated with little heart stickers. Turns it on and records you as you slip off your sweet silky pajamas, revealing soft, smooth skin beneath. You’re so shaky, so nervous. You can’t even look into the lens.

“No panties?” He asks, lips quirked into a grin. He steps forward to slip his hand between your thighs, to cup your pussy in one big hand. God, you’re so fucking wet, just like you usually are. He could just slide right in without any resistance, just bury himself right inside that tight little pussy. “Jesus, you’re a fucking mess, just dripping for it, aren’t you?”

You moan, relishing in the feeling of his hands on you. Art never touched you, not to get you off, at least. So the feeling of his thick calloused fingers against your cunt makes you whine. He breaches your entrance with just a fingertip and grins at the feeling of you clenching around the intrusion, desperate for anything he’ll give you.

But the relief is gone as soon as you’ve gotten it. He pats your thigh, nods to the bed. “Go lay down. Let me film you stretching yourself out for me.”

“Art,” you whine once you’ve laid down, embarrassed as he trains the lens on you. “Do you have to film this part?”

It just makes him double down, grinning smugly as he settles at the foot of the bed. “C’mon, just fucking do it. Show the camera how fucking wet you get for me.” You hear the whir of him zooming in as your hand slips between your thighs, as lithe fingers slide through your soaking wet folds and you tease your clit. He groans softly, grinning at the sight on the camera. “Alright, spread yourself out now. Show me how small and tight you are.”

You whimper pathetically, but obey. Your fingers form a V as you spread your lips, revealing the pretty, drippy hole of your cunt. He doesn’t even have to tell you to start fucking yourself, you just do. Pretty, manicured fingers disappearing inside the tight channel of your pussy, slow and easy as you pant and gasp sweetly.

“Can you do three?” He asks. He zooms the camera out, makes sure he gets all of you— your tits heaving with each breath, the slow grind of your hips to meet your fingers. You nod softly, press a third finger alongside the other two. He grins at the sight of the stretch of your cunt around them, how your body works to accommodate them. “God, it’s a tight stretch, huh?”

“Mhmm.” You moan as you pump your fingers slow, in and out. Wet to the point of it sounding obscene. Slick dripping out with each thrust, making your fingers glisten.

He can hardly take sitting there and watching, but god, he’d love it later on when he was alone with only the video to keep him company. But who knows? Maybe he’d fuck you once and never want anyone else. He already felt that way… kind of. You were so eager, so obsessed with him. You touched him like it was an act of worship. He couldn’t get that from easy pussy.

He sets the camera down on the foot of the bed while he undresses, tugging off his sweats and tee shirt, mussing up his hair in the process. It’s not lost on him, the way your fingers speed up at the sight of his cock, how needy and desperate you are.

“How bad do you want it?” He asks as he picks up the camera.

God, he’s mean. You whine when he grabs your wrist and makes you slip your fingers from inside of your cunt. Empty, needy, desperate. “Please, fuck me, Art.” You’re embarrassed, of course you are. He has a camera focused on your needy little expression, one hand on your thigh all warm and possessive. “Please, I’ve been so good for you. I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I just need you, I need you inside of me. Want you to be my first. Please, Art.”

He’s not sure where he wants the camera as he notches the head of his cock at your wet little hole. Part of him wants to film the second he buries his cock inside of that tight fucking cunt, but the other wants to film your face, watch how pretty you look as you take your very first cock.

And god, you’re trembling beneath him. Visibly shaking with anticipation, or nerves, or need. He runs a hand along your torso, cups one of your tits in his hands and thumbs over your sensitive nipple. “What, are you cold?” He teases.

“N-no,” you stammer, meeting his gaze. “Just— I just want it so bad.”

He films your face, which was the right call, he decides. He has to think about it technically, or he’ll risk blowing his load one pump in, like a total fucking loser. You’re so tight around him, clamping down on his cock as he sheaths himself within you, inch after inch. And god, that angelic face of yours— mouth agape, wet and pink and pretty, the tiniest furrow between your brows, lashes splayed against your cheeks as you moan, soft and sweet. “Hurts,” you practically whimper. “God, Art, fuck, it feels—“

He films where your cunt swallows him, stretched to the point of obscenity around his thick cock. It shouldn’t even be able to take him, not when you’re so small, so fucking tight. It’s a fucking miracle you’d even taken a toy before. He’d make you film that next. All desperate, fucking yourself on silicon while you drooled over a picture of him. It was sweet that you’d been trying to prepare yourself to take him and you were still a shaking, needy mess.

Tears well in your eyes as he thumbs at your swollen little clit, he feels your pussy clench around him, already so fucking keyed up. He should be good. He should make love to you, nice and slow, like a good boy. He’s starting to think he’s not a good boy, not at all. “Just lay there and take it, yeah? Just look nice and pretty for the camera.”

You cry out when he pulls back only to drive back in, hard and deep. His pace is relentless as he fucks into your cunt— warm and wet and tight and fucking perfect. He honestly shouldn’t have waited, he should’ve fucked you the first night you offered yourself up to him— sweet and needy and clinging off his shoulder like you were his girlfriend.

“A-Art, fuck—“ You cry out, fisting your pretty hands into the frilly duvet, as he bullies himself into you. “Oh, god, fuck, A-Art, it’s too much— I-I can’t—“ A strangled moan seems to rip itself from your throat as your head falls back against the pillows.

He grins. “Yeah? Don’t tell me, honey, tell the camera.”

You whine, turning your head away as embarrassment rips through you. It’s mean, keeping it trained on you while you’re so fucking vulnerable. He grabs your chin, holds it in place as he fucks into you, deeper, rougher. It punches out gasps from your pretty open mouth— Ah! Ah! Ah! Over and over and over.

He pops your cheek, not too hard, but enough to draw your attention back from him and away from your dizzying thoughts. “Tell the camera how good it feels to have my big cock in that little pussy of yours, yeah?

“It feels— ngh— I love it,” you have pretty fat tears slipping down your cheeks as he drills into you. “You’re so big, I— God, fuck— I feel you in my stomach. Here—“ You grab his hand, move it to press against the bottom of your stomach. He can’t feel anything, not except warm skin beneath his, but he groans at your words, at the implication that he’s so deep he’s in your fucking guts.

He has to bite his tongue so hard he tastes blood. He knows he’s going to cum, knows that he’s not going to last or show off epic, manly stamina and impress you. Not that you give a shit, but he wants to set a standard for whatever fucking loser you fuck next. He’d have next time, and as many other times as he wanted. You’d keep coming back for it, for him.

He struggles to manhandle you the way he needs while holding onto the camera. He tosses it into the sheets so he can press your knees up to your chest. “Hold them— yeah, that’s it, fuck— feels good.” You’re so obedient, holding your legs up for him so he can get deeper. Your eyes roll back, flutter shut. He fumbles to grab the camera, to immortalize you like this.

Your cunt squeezes around him, makes his rhythm falter as he struggles to fend off his orgasm. God, he just wants to bury himself deep and rut into you, to cum deep and hard, leave you dripping with him. It’s about him… but it’s about you too. He’d be good, he’d make you cum.

“Tell me how bad you need to cum. Fucking beg me for it,” He groans, rubbing at your clit with a calloused thumb.

You whine, squeezing around his cock as he draws you closer and closer. “Need it, Art. It feels so good— you’re so fucking perfect, feel so perfect inside of me. Wanna cum for you, around your cock, wanna show you how good you feel. Please, please, god, I want it, I want to feel it, Art. Want you to cum inside of me, need it so bad— I fucking dream about it, about you. You’re so much better, you’re everything I want, Art, fucking claim me. I want you to.”

Art wanted to pull out. He did. He was going to glaze your pussy with his cum, get it on video, swipe his fingers through it and make you taste it. But Jesus Christ, you fucking ruined that idea. He cums suddenly, practically collapses on top of you as he fucks into your cunt, spilling himself deep inside of you. And like the perfect fucking toy you are, you cum too, milking him for all he’s worth, walls clenching down around his cock as he lazily ruts into you.

He pants, stays buried inside of you as he tries to catch his breath. He’d never cum inside someone before— he was too afraid of knocking someone up. He’d always had the self control to pull out, but he lost himself in fucking you, in the tight grip of your pussy around him. Christ, that was bad.

When he pulls out, a thick gush of his cum follows, pearly white, dripping down your ass and to the bed. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, you’ve tugged a blanket over yourself shyly. Looking so demure, so sweet, batting your lashes up at him expectantly.

The camera lays dropped and forgotten on the bed, he goes and presses the stop button on the camera and you grab at his arm. “Do you want to stay the night?” You ask with a shy bite of your lip. “I told Izzy to fuck off, so she’s with her girlfriend. We’ve got the dorm for the night, so you can stay.”

Art makes a face akin to annoyance as he redresses, tugging on his boxers and sweats. His shirt is somewhere… he can’t focus. “I’m not your boyfriend.”

Your eyes widen, you swallow as heat floods your cheeks. “Yeah, I mean, I know,” you stammer. “I just thought…”

His jaw ticks. “Don’t do that, then. This is just about fucking.

Art watches the sad little nod, the tiniest twitch of your nose as you fight the rush of tears to your eyes. “I know that, Art,” you say sadly, and you’re trembling again. “I just wish you’d stay for a bit. I’m… I feel a lot right now. I’ve never… I’ve never felt this before I just want—“

“What do you want? A hug, a kiss?” He watches you sniffle sadly, nod and mutter a watery, yeah. He sighs, stops searching for his shirt, and pulls you against his chest. You feel so warm, so vulnerable as you shake and cry hot tears against his chest. He frowns, pulls back, and presses his lips to yours, quick and chaste. “I’m not doing this again if you keep acting like this.”

You sniffle and nod. “Okay, I know, I won’t do it again.” He kisses the crown of your head. Grabs a random shirt from the top of your laundry basket, grabs the camera, and heads for the door. You watch him leave with a pouty, wobbly little frown and get up to redress. You find his Stanford Tennis shirt partly beneath your bed and pull it on. It’s big, fits you like a hug, smells so boyish and warm. You lay back down on the bed he just fucked you on and breathe deep, let his smell flood your senses. It feels a little like being wanted.

AURRRRR this was so much longer than I thot <3

Anyways. Love pat’s sister au, feel free to send me any asks you want about these messy bitches <3

🐞 anon i love u

[the-s1lly-corner]

Flufftober prompt 6: playing with hair (Brahms)

you can find the prompt list here something something yap yap idk ill think of more to say when i actually get to writing this. unless i forget to edit this segment LMAO

notes: reader is gn, established relationship, reader replaces greta/takes her place in this fic

plot: You convince Brahms to take a bath and in the aftermath you're treated to finding out how soft his hair can be

word count: 357

cw: none

Against all the odds, you had managed to convince Brahms to take a bath. A proper one, mind you... and by the looks of it he didn't enjoy it one bit. You didn't expect him to seek you out so soon after washing up, and yet here he was shoving his face into your torso as he grumbled. No doubt he was annoyed that you had drawn a bath and didn't join him.

"Maybe next time," You mumbled as you pat your hand on the back of his shoulder, trying to will him to look at you. No dice. You turned over what could be done to pull him out of his mood in your head, your hands settling on his freshly dried hair. He pushed his head deeper into your palm, forcing you to take note of his soft curls. You knew he had them before, but they were...

You frowned for a moment.

You twirled his hair in your fingers for a moment before brushing the hair off of his forehead. As expected, he had his mask on. Not that you were surprised. Now that you had thought about it, Brahms only just recently started coming out of the walls a few weeks ago. You never noticed him leaving them to clean himself, so that does make you wonder...

"You know, if you cleaned up a little more..." You massaged his scalp. "We could do stuff like this more often.."

He glanced up at you. "Maybe if you let me I can even style your hair, if you want," You continued.

You were about to pull your hand away, only to find that he was forcing your hand back to his head. Firmly, but not enough to hurt.

"Not that I wouldn't before.. but doesn't this make you feel nicer?" You added as you went back to lightly fluffing his hair to help shake off of the remaining dampness.

A pause.

Then a nod.

A soft lighthearted huff as you trailed your fingers along his scalp.

You made it a mental note to make this a habit, though you doubted Brahms would let you forget your new post bath cuddling session.

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 14

Moniker: Calisto Risk Level: Low. Calisto is a part-time resident who is detained as needed. She is currently not detained and is visiting freely. Brief: Daddy kink Safeword: Refer to first brief.

Let Calisto look after you as she needs, I will be watching habibi - Farah

“No mon amour, you let daddy take care of that hm?”

Calisto’s strong shoulders muscled between you legs. You weren’t sure that her being on the floor between your thighs as you sat on the sofa was the best way for her to blow on the steaming cup of tea you were holding, but it certainly made your cunt pulse pathetically for her.

It was some cruel and unusual punishment being with Calisto today. She was gorgeous for a start but that wasn’t the bit that was making you want to bite your own hands off. No, it was that for the last hour she had looked after you perfectly and made everyday things unbearably erotic without actually touching you where you needed her.

Taking your hoodie off when it got too warm? Her strong hands had slowly ran up your sides as she took it off for you. You wanted to get comfy on the sofa? Her corded forearms popped as she had fluffed up the pillows while you were sitting there, brushing against your ass and then patting it to get you to move where she wanted. Hungry? You got hand fed little bites of food. Crumbs on your mouth? She dragged her tongue against them to clean you up. Tea too hot? Well now here she was, right between your legs kneeling up so she could blow on it for you.

And as with every other time you knew the polite response she wanted.

“Thank you daddy.”

Again, like every other time those words left your mouth, your pussy flooded with arousal and your nipples peaked almost painfully. You weren’t sure it was a daddy kink as such, more a calling this woman specifically daddy kink. Christ when you walked into the Kennel you thought you were straight, or at least you had never really thought about it. But now with her in a greyish white tank top (wifebeater style, the kind of top you imagined on some vicious husband before bedtime in the 1920s), you wanted to bite her fucking shoulders.

They were so decidedly masculine even in their feminine slope. You had never considered that shoulders would make you salivate before but here you were. She was driving you fucking crazy.

“Um… daddy?”

“Yes mon amour?” she said adoringly, sweet and solid and sounding like the perfect person to look after you.

“I would really like to touch myself.”

She considered for a moment, overacted it really, before gently taking the mug of tea and setting it on the table behind her.

“Keep your pretty hands where they are, daddy will take care of it oui?”

Her hands were nimble and efficient in pulling your sweats and panties down and you eagerly lifted you hips so they could slide past your ass. She took care in dragging them all the way down, lifting one ankle at a time to get them fully off before folding them neatly and setting them next to the tea.

She looked at your leaking pussy and then up at you with expectation.

“T-thank you daddy” you sputtered, so over eager to have her touch you that it was making you tongue tied and having you lightly humping air.

“Settle” she said, pressing firmly on your mons to get your hips to go down so your ass was once again on the sofa and not pushed up into the air. “You should have told daddy sooner mon amour, how can I take care of you if you do not tell me what you need?”

“Sorry daddy. I need you to make me cum, please. Please daddy” you begged, pushed well past what was a reasonable amount of pure pulsing need. You were pretty sure you passed it sometime around her licking the crumbs from your lips.

“Shh, daddy’s got you. Let’s see now” she said as she circled the pad of her delicate middle finger on your clit. “Poor thing, so swollen and needy.”

You could only whine while she methodically played with you. Fuck, her forearm flexing was making you insane. Your poor brain was imagining it was her fist instead of Mace’s yesterday, it was her hand pushing inside you while that gorgeous forearm tried to follow.

Or what if she played with your clit just like this while Farah pushed her cock inside of you from below? Or maybe you could just sit and watch and fucking struggle as Calisto and Soap made out with each others cunts.

“Keep going mon amour, what else? Perhaps you want me and Keegan to punish you together when you are being naughty hm?”

Fuck you had been spilling all of your fantasies out loud.

“Yes! God daddy please, I know you’d take good care of me!”

She rewarded your candor with two slim fingers diving inside of you and rubbing your walls while her thumb took over on your slippery clit. You were launching towards an orgasm at record fucking speeds.

“Of course I would, but you wouldn’t need it hm? Such a good girl mon amour, maybe instead of punishment it would be a reward for you. Would we slap this juicy clit so hard you suffer la petite mort?”

Oh God, oh God, oh God. She wasn’t even thrusting harder or speeding her thumb or by any account trying to make you nearly pass out from the rush of pleasure, but you hurtled headlong into an orgasm so fast and hard that your whole body spasmed violently, your toes curled and then after what felt like an endless glut of euphoria your body went weak and slack.

You gave a valiant twitch when she cleaned you up with her tongue, a little ‘mmm’ vibrating against your slit because this was very much a fine wine to her. After she deemed you sufficiently proper, she dragged your panties and sweats back up your legs, slipping them on one ankle at a time.

She had to pat your ass a few times before you managed to weakly lift it for her to get them past and on properly.

You couldn’t hold the tea anymore, you weren’t sure you’d be able to hold a feather. But your daddy was there to take care of you so brought it to your lips for you to sip. It had cooled to the perfect temperature, almost like she had planned it all out.

Honestly you could believe it, after all, who could ever look after you better than daddy?

[leiawritesstories]

Impossible

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 13: Finding Out They're Pregnant @rowaelinscourt

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: medical talk, hospitals, mentions of infertility, vague depictions of medical tests

A/N: this is a little bit self-indulgent but also therapeutic--i had surgery for endometriosis this past summer, and part of recovering from that was how tf do i process all the implications of this diagnosis??? well...writing helps. anyway. Aelin has endo in this fic, but things go very different for her than they did for me lol.

Enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was still dark outside when Aelin’s alarm went off, the cheery tune she’d chosen breaking through her restless scraps of dreaming. With a mild groan, she rolled over and tapped the screen of her phone multiple times before she managed to turn off the alarm, eliciting a sleepy chuckle from her husband behind her. She poked him in the shoulder and stuffed her pillow over her head. 

“Five more minutes,” she mumbled. “Got another alarm.” 

Rowan tugged the pillow off of her head and fluffed it up. “Mmmkay, go back to sleep, love.” He tugged her back against his side, and she closed her eyes. 

And her alarm went off five minutes later. She grumbled at it, but she carefully extricated herself from Rowan’s embrace, turned off her alarm, and pushed herself out of bed. Leaving a kiss on his forehead, she tucked the blankets up and went quietly into the bathroom. A clean set of clothes already sat on the shelf beside the shower, and she smiled softly at her husband’s quiet thoughtfulness. She went through the motions of the shower rhythmically, her body working on muscle memory due to the too-early hour, making sure to scrub extra well with the antibacterial soap. Finished, she dried off and put on the clean, comfortable clothes Rowan had set out—sweatpants and a loose shirt. 

He was awake and half-dressed when she emerged from the bathroom, and his glasses sat crooked on his nose. She chuckled softly and straightened the wire frames, and he caught her wrists and tugged her gently into his lap. “Hey.” Fingers threaded through her loose, damp hair. “Want braids?” 

“Yeah.” She passed him her brush and two hair ties, and he carefully wove the blonde waves into twin braids down past her shoulder blades. “Someday, our future daughter is going to only want you to do her hair for school.” 

“Biggest win ever.” His voice, like hers, held a touch of muted yearning, weighed down by the hopelessness of two years trying to conceive without success. Aelin had been diagnosed with stage 3 endometriosis in her last year of college, while they were engaged, and she had put off surgery until her doctor finally said that the excision procedure was the best thing she could do for her chance of having a family. 

“I’m nervous,” she admitted. “I know Dr. T said this is the best thing for us right now, but I…I almost don’t want to hope.” 

“Fireheart,” Rowan breathed, standing so he could wrap his wife in his embrace. “It’s going to be okay, my love. I have more than enough hope for both of us.” 

“I love you,” she whispered. 

She held his hand the whole way to the hospital. 

When they arrived, the receptionist waved them towards the procedure center waiting area, and they sat down and waited in the early-morning quiet. Only a few others were there, including an older couple, a middle-aged woman, a half-asleep man, and a woman about Aelin’s age sitting with her mother. 

“Galathynius?” Aelin stood up and went to the desk, and she gave the receptionist her information. It only took a few minutes, and soon she was back in her seat with a green hospital bracelet around her right wrist and a clipboard with some papers on it. She handed Rowan the slip of paper with her patient information and went to work on the few forms. It was only a short while before a nurse with a softly lined face walked into the waiting area and called for Aelin, and she squeezed Rowan’s hand as she stood up. 

“I’ll see you soon,” she promised, and she followed the nurse through the double doors into the pre-procedure area. They walked down a quiet, gray-tiled hallway, the faint scent of disinfectant lingering in the sterile air. 

The nurse—her nametag read Philippa—stopped by a restroom door. “First question, Aelin.” She held out a clear plastic cup. “Did you remember to come with a full bladder?” 

“I did.” Aelin smiled. “Almost like I’ve had practice with this kind of thing.” 

Philippa chuckled. “Okay then, I don’t need to give you instructions. Go ahead, and when you’re done, I’ll be at the desk over there.” She gestured. “Take your time.” 

Aelin went into the bathroom and closed the door. Pregnancy screening was required as part of the pre-procedure preparations, and it was almost too familiar, almost too easy, to take care of the urine sample and close up the plastic cup. So many tests flickered before her eyes, so many single lines, so many negative results. The only thing that gave her any hope was that Dr. Yrene was firmly convinced that this surgery would improve her chances of conceiving, since the endometriosis lesions would no longer be there to interfere with things. She handed Philippa the cup and followed her down to a small, clean room, where a hospital gown, cap, and socks sat on the bed beside a plastic sack and a sleeve of chlorhexidine wipes. 

“You know what to do, I’m sure, but I still have to give you the rundown.” Philippa let Aelin take a seat in the chair across from the bed and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her right arm. “Wash with the wipes and change into the gown, blah blah blah, and your nurse will come in to get you all hooked up and ready to go.” She checked the blood pressure reading and jotted it down. “Oh, and if there’s anything else we need you to do, your nurse will let you know. Looks like you’ll have Sorscha, and she’s wonderful.” 

“Thank you,” Aelin murmured, giving the older woman a grateful smile as she left the room and closed the door. She had just finished getting herself into the gown and bright yellow socks when there was a rapping on the door and a woman of about her own age with soft caramel skin and a warm smile cracked open the door and poked her head into the room. 

“Aelin, right?” 

“That’s me.” Aelin sat down against the pillows. “Right on time.” 

“I’m Sorscha.” The nurse came into the room. “I’m sorry to disturb you before you might be ready, but your pregnancy screening came back positive.” 

The world around Aelin went silent. 

She shook her head slowly, bringing herself back into the present. “I…what?” Her breath hitched, shock creeping up her throat, and she clasped her hands together in front of her stomach. “It has to be a false positive; there’s not a chance I’m actually…” Pregnant. The word she couldn’t let herself say. 

Sorscha looked down at her clipboard, flipped a few papers. “Would you like to take a digital test by yourself? It could be a false positive, and we do need to be absolutely sure of the result because you’re scheduled to go under general anesthesia.” 

Aelin nodded. “Yes, please. I do want to take another test.” 

“Got it.” Sorscha walked her back to the bathroom and grabbed a digital test from the nurse’s station. She handed the box to Aelin and let her go into the bathroom alone. “Bring it on out when you’re done, okay? There is a possibility that we might have to do an ultrasound if you think you’ve had a false positive, but that’s easy to do.” She squeezed Aelin’s trembling hand. “You’re going to be okay, Aelin.” 

“Okay.” More hesitantly than before, Aelin went into the bathroom, locked the door, sat down, and took the pregnancy test out of the box. She went through the motions robotically, tucked the test back into the cap, and turned it over while she waited. Questions spun around her head at the speed of light, but she pushed them away, weighing them down with the strength of her doubt. She knew her ovulation window, and she’d had her period regularly. It just…it wasn’t possible. 

The timer pinged, and Aelin picked up the test, turned it over, and read the single line of text displayed on the tiny gray screen. And her whole body trembled, shaken by the force of hope that crashed into her as she read that second test. 

Pregnant. 3+. 

Shakily, she walked out and wordlessly handed the test to Sorscha, who took one look at it and helped Aelin sit down in the nearest chair. “You’re going to be okay,” she said again, reassuring Aelin as the tears finally broke free and spilled down her face. 

“I—” A great shuddering sob wrenched Aelin’s shoulders, and she just let her body loose to the tide of overpowering shock and disbelief and wonder and worry. “I think I’m dreaming,” she choked out, her words broken with tears. “It’s been two years; I didn’t think it was possible.” She wiped her eyes. “God, I’m sorry, here you are just trying to do your job and I’ve turned into a hot mess express in front of everyone.” She sniffled. 

Sorscha gave her a hug, and Aelin leaned into the comforting gesture. “How about we go back to your pre-op room and talk about next steps?” 

“Okay.” Aelin followed Sorscha back to the room, and she sat down on the bed while the nurse pulled up her charts on the computer. “So…what now?” 

“Well, the main thing is that you won’t be able to have the surgery that you were scheduled for, but that’s a very good thing because you’re pregnant.” Sorscha clicked through a few things. “I’ve paged your doctor, and she should be in soon to discuss what she wants you to do, but my suspicion is that she’ll order an immediate ultrasound to check on things and maybe have you do some blood tests. It’s convenient that you’re in the hospital, because you don’t have to go anywhere.” 

Aelin laughed softly, flicking stray tears away from her face. “Okay.” 

Right on cue, there was another knock on the door, and Dr. Yrene Towers came in, her copper curls tied back into a bun. “Well hello, Aelin! Seems like today might not go exactly as we planned.” 

“That’s one way to say it,” Aelin agreed. 

The doctor looked over at the charts that Sorscha had pulled up. “Okay, Aelin, I’d like for you to go up to the imaging clinic and get an ultrasound done.” She stepped over to the computer and rapidly typed up an order that she sent to the imaging center. “Since a surgeon ordered it, they’ll be able to do it right away, and this will either confirm your pregnancy for certain or prove that you had false positives. In the first case, we’ll turn to prenatal care, and in the second, we can go ahead with surgery. How does that sound?” 

“Sounds great.” Aelin glanced down at herself. “Should I change?” 

“Actually, it might be easier if you kept the gown on for now, since they’ll probably want to do an internal ultrasound.” Dr. Yrene looked over at Sorscha. “Can you take her to imaging, Sorscha?” 

“Of course.” 

“Perfect.” 

Sorscha slipped out of the room and came back a few minutes later with a wheelchair, and she got Aelin settled and took her down the hallways and up an elevator to the fourth floor, where the imaging clinic was located. She spoke briefly to the receptionist and took Aelin into the clinic, bringing her into a softly-lit room. An ultrasound tech was waiting, Aelin’s order pulled up on her screen. She conferred briefly with Sorscha and helped Aelin get situated on the exam bed. 

After a brief explanation and demonstration of the ultrasound probe, the tech started the scan, and it was only a few minutes before Aelin looked over at the screen opposite her and saw a teeny tiny baby moving gently around inside of her uterus. 

The tears welled up again, and she didn’t stop them. 

“Congratulations,” the tech murmured, and she clicked away at the ultrasound machine, making notes and recording measurements. Aelin stared at the image of the tiny baby, overcome by an emotion so strong she didn’t have the proper words for it, and she was surprised when the tech finished the exam and asked her if she wanted prints of the images. 

Sorscha came back and took Aelin back down to the pre-procedure area, and she found herself back in the exam room with her ultrasounds, waiting for Yrene. The doctor brought in her own set of Aelin’s ultrasounds, and she was beaming when she came into the room. 

“I’m so happy for you and your husband,” she said. “He doesn’t know yet, of course, but when we bring him back, you’ll be able to tell him all about it. Did you want to wait for him to discuss prenatal care, or would you like to talk about the details with me first?” 

“Tell me first.” Aelin stroked her thumb over the black-and-white images. “I want to know how far I am and why the heck I didn’t know.” 

Yrene chuckled. “Well, according to the way things are measuring and the dates you’ve tracked for ovulation, you are twelve and a half weeks, almost out of the first trimester.” She pointed to part of one image. “Now, the reason you didn’t know is probably partially due to your endometriosis giving you false periods and partially because, as you see here, you have an anterior placenta, which means that the placenta is in the front of the uterus. So, you might not show any bump until later in pregnancy, and it will probably not be quite as big as you might expect.” She ran through a list of more details, pointing out relevant things on the ultrasounds. “All right, then, I think we’re ready to bring your husband back. Is there anything else you want to ask me?” 

“Could you have them do the blood draw before you bring Rowan back? I want to have it all taken care of before he sees me.” 

“Of course.” Yrene spoke quietly to Sorscha, and when the blood draw was done and Aelin had a small bandage in the crook of her elbow, both the nurse and the doctor left the room. It was Yrene who walked in shortly later with Rowan, and she grinned at Aelin as she left the two of them alone. 

“Hey, Fireheart.” Rowan’s brows furrowed in confusion as he looked around the room. “Is something wrong?” 

She shook her head. “Not at all.” 

“But you’re…” 

“I know.” She looked down at herself, still in the hospital gown but not hooked up to IVs and monitors like he’d expected her to be. “They can’t do the surgery right now, Rowan.” Her throat thickened, and she looked up at her husband with tears gleaming in her eyes. “Because I’m pregnant.” 

“What?!” He staggered backwards, his body going nearly boneless as he collapsed into the chair, shock and hope washing over his face. 

Aelin handed him the ultrasound photos, watched the joy brighten his features as he drank in the sight of their tiny baby cradled inside of her. “Twelve and a half weeks, and I didn’t believe the tests until I saw the ultrasound.”

“Fireheart,” he breathed, standing so he could go to her and wrap her in his loving arms. His tears dropped into her hair, but she ignored them, just as he ignored how her tears blotched his shirt. “This…I think this is the best thing that could have happened.” 

She chuckled through her tears. “Almost—I can’t have the surgery until after I give birth, but this is…definitely something we both hoped for.” 

“Yeah.” So gently, his thumb swept the tears from her cheeks. “And twelve weeks?”

“Yeah.” Grinning, she lifted his slack jaw back into place. “Dr. Yrene will talk to both of us about where we go from here.” He nodded, and she let him sit down on the bed beside her and loop his arm around her waist, his strength always her rock. The doctor walked back in and beamed at both of them, and she sat down and gave them a whole list of prenatal instructions. 

“But really, most of all, you know what works best for you and your health,” she concluded. “I like to tell my patients not to get too obsessed with the mommy books and social media mom advice, but gods know I can’t control that. I’ll see you in a few weeks, okay?” 

“Thank you so much.” Aelin impulsively hugged her doctor. After Yrene left, she turned back to Rowan, and she brushed the stray tears off of his chin. “It’s good news, love. It’s such good news.” 

“I know.” He passed her clothes to her, and she changed out of the hospital gown. A nurse came back to walk them out of the hospital, and they left with a completely different set of instructions than they’d expected when they arrived only a couple of hours earlier. 

 An entirely different outcome, but a miracle nonetheless.

~~~

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[waywardangel-wilds]

Inspired by this post by @littlemarianah and this post by @mellarked-katnisseverdeen :

Katniss propped up her father’s frameless shaving mirror, watching herself in the setting sunlight as she anxiously rearranged her hair. She brushed her fingers down the front of her dress. It was ironed, clean, and never before mended. It was the nicest piece of clothing she owned. Was it alright? She turned herself to profile in the mirror. Would he like it?

“Birdie, what are you puttering around in there for?” Her father hobbled towards the bathrooms doorway. His bad leg usually gave him a harder time on rainy evenings, like the one they were having. “My,” he paused to smile, “aren’t you a pretty picture?”

She smiled. “Oh daddy, don’t tell me you forgot already.” She reached over to put the mirror away. “You promised you’d be on your best behaviour.”

“For what?” He asked, but his slight smile gave him away. Katniss rolled her eyes while she straightened the collar of his shirt. “I’m just joking, ‘course I didn’t forget. What are you messing with my shirt for? He's not coming to see me!” He laughed.

“This is important to me,” She met her father’s smiling eyes with her own nervous gaze. “I want him to like it here. I want you to like him.”

“We’ll see about that,” he chuckled at his daughter’s stricken expression. “Don’t give me that pout! I just want to know if he’s good enough to be on your arm, is all.”

“Daddy,” Katniss shook her head. She glanced out the window at the sun. He’d be by soon. “I need to finish getting ready!”

“You’re beautiful already, birdie. I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” He was laughing as she pushed him out of the bathroom. “Alright! Alright! I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Please don’t let mama say anything embarrassing!” She begged before she shut the door in his face.

“You heard that? Your daughter thinks we’ve no self control,” he snickered into the kitchen where his wife offered him an amused tweak of the brow. “You’d think the boy was the prince of Panem or something.”

“Hm, I think it’s sweet.” His wife replied, lifting the lid of the stew she’d been working on for the better part of the evening. “Young love, remember it?”

“You’re calling me old?” He pulled her into the circle of his arms. “These Everdeen women sure are difficult to impress.”

“Spruce,” she shook her head. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and help me with this food, huh? Your daughter put a lot of work into tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He walked over to their makeshift ice box. “I promise to keep the commentary to a minimum.”

“Mama! If Katniss marries the baker do we get free cakes forever?” Prim little head stuck into the house from where she sat on the front steps. “Cause that’d be really neat!”

“Primrose Everdeen!” She said around a laugh. “Don’t you have to get dressed for dinner?”

“He’s not marrying me,” the girl replied sullenly as she shuffled towards the bedroom.

“No one’s marrying anyone!” Spruce called out. “In fact, what does anyone need boys for?”

“You’re a boy daddy,” Prim replied.

“Now that’s an entirely different thing,” he replied. “I’m your father. That makes me better than the rest.”

“Mmhm,” his wife replied sarcastically. “Taste this?” She placed the spoon before his lips.

“Sour,” he coughed. “What have you been doing over there?”

“Well you could fix it if you know so much,” she handed him the spoon. “I could use a rest, you know. It takes a lot to look like this.” She fluffed her hair.

“Yes, I noticed. You look lovely, dear.” She smacked his shoulder. “I mean it!”

“Uh huh,” she replied.

“Mama! Could I borrow your lipstick?” Katniss’s voice came from the bathroom still. “Is it in your room?”

“Yes, darling.” His wife replied, shooting him an amused look. “In the drawer!”

They didn't hear anything else before they saw her zoom by to the bedroom, her hair trailing behind her like a river of molasses.

“Don’t sprain something now!” He called after her. “This kid better be the best thing since sliced bread. I don’t remember you putting this much work into making me happy.”

“Hush,” his wife tried to peek into the bedroom before the door shut behind their daughter’s back. “She’s nervous enough as it is.”

A thudding noise from beyond the closed door caught their attention. “Hey!” Prim yelled.

“Oh no, now they’re fighting.” She patted his arm. “I’m going in there.”

“You have my thoughts and prayers,” he replied sarcastically. She didn’t spare that a response, but she smiled, so that was a win.

He set about fixing the stew, adding some extra water to try and counteract the excess vinegar. He was cutting up some wild onion when a tentative knock befell the open door.

"Ah, there he is," He glanced towards the doorway with a friendly expression. "The man of the hour."

At the threshold, a shy-looking eighteen-year-old boy peeked halfway into the house. He smiled self-consciously. "Good evening, Mr. Everdeen."

"Mr. Everdeen? That was my father. You’ll call me Spruce. Come in! What are you doing hanging out in the rain?" He waved him over. "Do you know much about cooking?"

"The basics, I think." He shrugged good-naturedly, taking a moment to wipe his feet on the cheerful mat his wife had laid out there ages ago. He walked in strangling some unfortunate daisies. "These are for Katniss."

"We've got a vase somewhere," He ducked to check the cupboard, his back protesting the whole time. "Here we are. One chipped jug, close enough." He smiled over his shoulder. "It's Peeta, correct?"

"Yes, sir." Peeta accepted the old milk jug and went to fill it at the sink. He quirked a brow at that. "Uh, Mr. Spruce, sorry."

"Whatever floats your boat." He accepted, "Is that for us?" He looked at the covered dish in the boy's other hand.

"Yes, of course!" He awkwardly set it down on the counter as his hands were full. Spruce was starting to feel bad for the kid, he'd never seen anyone so nervous. "Katniss loves the bakery's cheese buns so I figured it might be nice to bring some."

"That she does. Do you think she'd mind if I took one?" He asked cheekily, removing the dish's lid.

Peeta smiled. "Maybe a little."

"I think I'll risk it," He took a big bite out of a nice warm bun. He nodded in approval, "This is good."

Peeta's smile widened, "thank you, Mr. Spruce."

"You're here!" They turned towards the sound of his daughter's voice. She stood in the doorway to the bedroom, looking as lovely as she'd been since the day she was born, but this time she had a light touch of lipstick on her cheeks. "You met my dad."

Peeta nodded, "I did." He started blushing. "I-uh, brought you these." He extended the flowers in her direction, which she leaped across the room to accept. "You look beautiful."

Katniss glanced over her shoulder self-consciously. Spruce averted his eyes to give her some privacy. "Thank you," she said with a voice as sweet as honey. "You look nice too."

Peeta's face took on a love-dazed look and Spruce shook his head. Oh man, that's why his mother had constantly made fun of him back in the day.

He turned his back on the kids. Might as well spare them the extra embarrassment. "We're having a big dinner tonight. Katniss caught all this game all by herself." He returned to the stew, "Right, birdie?"

"Yep," the awkwardness seemed to be a common denominator. "You brought me cheese buns?"

"Yeah, I know how much you like them," Peeta replied with an awkward little chuckle.

"Thank you, I do-- like them, I mean. Yeah." Katniss spoke haltingly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Oh!” His wife finally made it out of the bedroom. “Prim, come say hello!" She called back into the bedroom. "Peeta! How are you? Did the rain give you a hard time?"

"No, no, not at all, I'm great" Peeta replied. "Thank you for inviting me over tonight. You have a lovely home, Mrs. Everdeen."

"Thank you, and it's no trouble at all. We've been curious about you." She walked towards the table with Prim following close behind, a curious look to her. "And please, you don't have to call me that, Lily is fine."

"Lily," Peeta repeated with a smile.

"So since you're the baker and all, do we get freebies when you marry my sister?" Prim challenged.

"Prim!" Katniss chastised. “You don’t have to answer that. We’re not even engaged Prim.”

"And I'm not the baker. I just work there." Peeta answered with an amused smile. "My dad's the baker but I can still make you anything you'd like."

"You don't have to," Katniss said.

"Great! My birthday's coming up." Prim went on shamelessly. She pulled out one of the dining chairs and sat down. "Could you make it a heart-shaped cake? Oh! And cover it in pink frosting?"

Lily put a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter, meanwhile, Katniss looked mortified. Spruce tsked, joining his youngest daughter at the table. “Don’t scare him off, you’ll cost us our in at the bakery!”

“Daddy,” Katniss complained. She picked up her boyfriend’s hand and tugged him towards the table. “They’re just joking. They do that a lot.”

“I really wouldn’t mind making it though,” Peeta smiled gregariously. “It’s not every day you get an order for a pink and heart-shaped cake. It sounds like fun.”

“In that case, could it be tiered too?” Prim interjected.

“That’s enough, Prim. Don’t disrespect.” Lily said. To Peeta she added, “has Katniss offered you something to drink?”

“Oh wow, I’m sorry I forgot. Do you want some water?” Katniss smiled her embarrassment.

“No, I’m okay, thanks.” Peeta and her seemed to have some sort of secret conversation which resulted in Katniss laughing.

“Should we eat?” Spruce stood. “I can serve the stew.”

“I’ll get the bowls,” Lily readily added. Once they were a sufficiently far away from the children she stage-whispered, “what do you think?”

“I think we’ve got ourselves a problem.”

“A problem? What do you mean? He seems perfectly nice to me.”

“No, he is. Problem is we’re gonna lose our kid.” He peaked over his shoulder. The kids were all seated at the table and having a normal conversation. “This looks permanent.”

Lily’s face grew sentimental. “We weren’t that much older when we got married.” She bit her lip. “ironic, huh?”

“How’d you mean?”

“You and me, town and seam. I chose the coal miner over the baker. Now, our daughter and her boyfriend, still town and seam, but she’s choosing the baker. It’s almost by design.”

“You’re reading too much into it,” he said. “What we should be worried about is how this affects me and the actual baker. First his girl and now his son? I can't go back there.”

“Spruce,” Lily laughed. "You and your jokes. Would it kill you to take this seriously?"

"Yes, it would." He grinned shamelessly. "But you knew that when you married me."

"You're terrible." She handed him a bowl. "Hurry up."

"So demanding," he shook his head. "This is cripple abuse."

"Cripple," Lily snorted.

"Thank you," Peeta smiled winningly as Lily deposited his bowl in front of him.

"So Peeta," Spruce interlaced his fingers. Time to look serious. "If you're not going to be the baker, what will you do? I'm assuming one of your brothers is the next baker, right?"

"Dad," Katniss complained.

"It's an important question." Spruce leaned forward slightly on his forearms. "Peeta?"

"That's right, Mr., Uh, Spruce, I'm not the next baker." Peeta managed to maintain eye contact with him. Good. "I'm apprenticing at the justice building for the rest of the year. My mother's side of the family has connections there."

"Interesting. What will you be doing?" Spruce cocked his head. "It pays?"

"Dad," Katniss groaned. "You know I'm sitting right here right?"

He put up a placating hand, "Peeta?"

"It pays," the boy nodded. "It should be enough, for um, multiple people." He blushed then.

"Please, I could probably provide enough for all of us." Katniss rolled her eyes and muttered. "Talking about me like a goat up for auction."

Spruce stared hard at them both for a long moment. Peeta looked like he was sweating. Katniss looked like she wanted him to keel over. He nodded. "Alright."

"Alright?" Katniss asked derisively.

"I'm giving you my blessing, birdie. Don't spend it all in one place." He smiled as Katniss gave in and softened. "That's my girl."

Part 2

[ox1-lovesick]

hi love I HAVE A RQQQ- TXT OR ENHA WITH A SICK S/O PLEASE!! i have a killer cold and the worst dizzy spells ever nd i would love some comfort 😞😞 thank u sm

★ ✯ ☆ TXT WITH A SICK!S/O

★ pairing. txt x gn!reader genre. fluff, comfort warnings. mentions of food wc. 100-300 each

✯ synopsis. txt with a sick s/o!!

☆ a/n. firstly i am so sorry this took 4 months 💀 writers block is the bane of my existence. i do hope this manages to bring you some comfort though :( please do take care of yourself and get well soon! (even though you are most likely not sick anymore 😭) also how ironic is it that i'm currently sick... :')

YEONJUN | 연준

by your side 100% of the time you cannot get rid of him.

he's over your bed when you wake up in the morning, waiting outside the bathroom door for you, laying right next to while you're sleeping. everywhere you are, so is yeonjun

will bend over backwards to get you anything you need

water? medicine? soup? more blankets? less blankets? he's on it before you can even ask

cooks for you !!! tries to make your food as interesting as possible so you won't get bored, without adding things that will make you feel worse or aren't good for you

you're bedridden. don't even try to fight him

he won't let you lift a finger, he wants you to get as much rest as possible so you can get better as quickly as possible

infact don't even speak, he'll learn morse code so you can just beep him whenever you need

if his schedule allows he'll stay home with you and be by your side every second of the day, if not he's texting you every free moment he has to make sure you're okay

would definitely call in sick if you were feeling particularly tired and need his care that day

has multiple reminders to make sure you're taking your medicine on time, will scold you if you're even a second late

he'll never tell you but he secretly enjoys you being sick . . .

he love love loves to take care of you, especially when you call on him to do things for you it makes him all giddy knowing you need him (he's not a creep i swear)

he's ontop of you so much he probably catches whatever you have

atleast you're sick together

SOOBIN | 수빈

hates to see you sick

1. because it's gross 2. because he hates seeing you in pain but mainly because it's gross

you're not staying in his bed i'm sorry he's gonna come over to your house to take care of you during the day and go home to his snot free blankets at night

gets your medicine mixed up all the time and complains it's the doctor's fault for prescribing ones that look so similar

low-key takes advantage of this situation so he can skip work and spend some quality time with you LMAOOO

"sorry guys yn's still dying i can't come to work today"

at first it's fun because you just have your average head cold so he doesn't worry too much

but then it starts getting worse and he comes home to you falling over yourself in the kitchen because of your dizzy spells and nearly has a stroke

panik

he starts stressing like a mad man after that

probably gets himself sick just with how stressed out he is it's a problem

definitely calls his mom for help he doesn't know what to do

updates her on every little thing you do

"mom they just took a really deep breath does that mean something"

buys the entire pharmacy

wants to kick himself for not taking it seriously when you first got sick he feels so guilty 😭

although you did enjoy his company and the endless marvel marathons so all is well

will not leave you alone. you have to shit with the door open.

will do everything for you even if you're perfectly capable of doing it yourself

from brushing your hair to fluffing your pillows he's gonna do it all

he'll even clean for you, that's his ultimate declaration of love

in the end he didn't really do much to nurse you back to health but A for effort

BEOMGYU | 범규

i know practically everyone in moaville would say he'd tease the shit out of you but in my head he'd be the most worried for you

googles every single one of your symptoms and then cries himself to sleep because myonlineclinic.com told him you have cholera and 6 days to live

the only reason he'd tease you is to mask his worry

he'd watch you go through 60 boxes of tissues and be like "omg my snotty baby" but on the inside he's freaking out 😭

your pain is his pain, the way you feel affects him and his mood drastically

he's irritable when you are, he's tired when you are, your appetites probably sync too

puts a curse on whoever spread their nasty germs to you with ginger roots and vinegar

i think he'd also be the most sympathetic since he gets sick a lot more often than the others

so gentle and understanding compared to his usual self it's a little scary 😭

surprisingly good at negotiation like you're being stubborn because you don't want to take your medicine and he's like "if you drink the cough syrup i'll let you listen to the demos for our next comeback" and before you know it you've sold your childhood home to him for 3/4 of the initial price

will whip out his guitar and sing for you in a heartbeat if you ask him too

obviously tries to crack jokes and make you smile so you don't feel too miserable, he feels so accomplished even if you just scoff at him 🙁

gets back to his usual annoying self once you're better though

TAEHYUN | 태현

ironically, he doesn't know what to do

he rarely gets sick and when he does it passes in a day or two, so when you've been coughing like you have bronchitis for the past week he feels so lost

his first instinct is to take you to the doctor to figure out what's wrong but gets into a fight with doctor for charging him 19382928 won just to press his hand to your forehead and tell him you have a head cold (terry is against this capitalist society)

also buys the entire pharmacy

changes your entire lifestyle to the maximum efficiency so you get better as quickly as possible and makes sure you stick to it

strict like a prison warden, sometimes you wonder if he actually loves you

which he obviously does, but it's hard to believe so when he avoids any unnecessary contact with you as if you have the plague

takes you outside every once in a while to get some fresh air, he feels stuffy just watching you sit around

it also keeps you active 💪

he's always pestering you to wash your hands

will not let you touch him otherwise

makes sure he keeps your space clean, always has tissues and anything else you might need within your reach

at your aid 24/7

you take up a colossal space in his heart he's so soft for you

flying to your side before you even say anything

you don't even have to tbh he can read your mind

"how'd you know i wanted water?" "you looked thirsty"

if he notices you're feeling extra miserable he'll sing for you to cheer you up

swallows his pride because he's down bad and pulls out his best southern accent when you ask him to sing country music

he will be teased for the next millenia but it was worth it for you

he's like an overbearing mother but you get better the fastest when he's taking care of you

HUENINGKAI | 휴닝카이

another mama's boy

probably calls his sisters too

hiyyih would tell him to soak your pills in vegetable oil as a joke but he'll actually do it because he's just that hopeless

he's unable to think straight he just wants to do everything in his power to make you feel better 😭

although he gets the hang of it pretty quickly, he's a fast learner and genuinely enjoys taking care of you

always praising you !!

"wow yn!! i can't believe you ate all your soup!!! you're so cool!!!"

tries to distract you by showing you his entire collection of pokemon cards

probably lies and tells you they're all super rare and he's the only one in the world who has them

does his best not to cause you any stress, he just wants you to focus on resting

the things this man does because he loves you istg

he cleans the entire dorm because it's a breeding ground for bacteria and he doesn't want anything making you more sick

the guys come home to the house spotless they're just like 🤯🤯🤯🤯

taehyun asks you to get sick more often if it means he doesn't have to fight his way through the ironing board and bike to get to the sink

he even lets you play on his DS he's down bad

side rant: i feel like kai is secretly a neat freak, he abhors the sight of filth but is just too lazy to do anything about it so he forces himself to deal with it 💀

anyway he's such a sweetheart :( does his best to keep the mood up even if you're feeling miserable because your nose is so filled with so much snot that you can't breathe

his positive energy definitely rubs off on you!!!

he actually does a good job taking care of you, he's a bit stressed at first but you're back to good health in no time !!!

© OX1-LOVESICK ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost my work without my explicit permission.

[r-f-m-writes]

Pretty, Dead Animals Chapter One

The shimmering shift of tattoos over refined tendons of muscle made Linette feel like she was being hypnotized as she swept the man's card through the slot on the side of the machine, not even glancing at the amount due.

“Your boss ’s sick, so he leaves a little girl alone to deal with grown men all day? More of a shmuck than I thought.”

The genuine ebb of concern in his tone made Linette’s knees feel wobbly as she handed the card back.

The tip of his index finger brushed against the soft underside of her wrist as he took it from her.

“I can take care of myself.”

When he scoffed at her it wasn’t unkind so much as disbelieving.

"Yeah, kid. I’m sure you think you can.”

Linette’s stomach was swooping itself into hot, excited knots as she stood fixing her hair in the spotty restroom mirror, yanking brown waves out of the claw clip and fluffing out her roots before arranging the tangled mess over her shoulders in a way the looked half presentable.

It had been scorching hot the night before, she’d barely slept. Her under eyes were sunken and blue tinged, she felt groggy and deflated - the clothes she wore had been grabbed thoughtlessly off the top of the clean washing hamper.

Linette didn’t look good, at all, and he had just pulled his black Semi into the truck stop.

He, who had an American accent, a full sleeve of brooding black ink tattoos, and a defined five o'clock shadow that made something primal inside her purr.

He, who had blue eyes, brown hair, and a permanent scowl that etched itself into the center of all her silly, girlish fantasies for the last four months.

He, whose name Linette didn’t know, was mysterious and new and scary in a way that thrilled her from the inside out.

Who could blame a girl for craving something fresh in the monotonous nothingness that came with life in a desert town hours away from anything important?

The shrill ting ting ting of the little ringer at the counter being hit impatiently three times snapped Linette out of her fussing, the girl giving her hair one last pass over in the mirror as she called out.

“Coming!”

The door to the bathroom bumped heavily as Linette hurried out, pretending to dry her hands on the front of her singlet. Blush stung inside her cheeks as she walked toward the counter.

A grunt and the sound of heavy boots shifting on the floor came before his voice.

“Sorry, kid. Thought it was the old fella on today.”

The nickname heated her up. She almost fell over her own feet when the rubber soles of her sneakers caught on the slippery tiles. When she cleared her throat to speak, her voice came out in mumbles.

“ ‘s all good. Ben’s off sick, I’ve been holding down the Servo for him. Pump five?”

Linette lifted her head to look him right in the eye, acting braver than she felt.

He was wearing a cap, gray, with the name of some sports team she didn’t recognize embroidered on the front. His buzz cut had grown out since last time he was at the stop, five o'clock shadow turning into a real beard, all filled out, thick and dark with no irregular patches.

That was how Linette knew he must be older, much older, than her. Boys her age who were trying to grow out their first beards always looked scraggly and gross, like they’d cut off their pubes and glued them to their face in uneven clumps. His beard was nothing like that. He was nothing like that.

Everything about him was mature and distinguished, polished in a finish of radiant masculinity that made Linette want to sink into a dependent puddle at his feet.

Even his mesh of black tattoos looked classic, and tattoos were something that, right up until seeing him for the first time, Linette had absolutely hated; taking them as a red flag of insecurity and a person’s incomplete sense of self.

On him, they looked downright lickable.

Him being the most beautiful man she’d ever seen outside of a TV screen certainly helped compel her intense attraction - but, for Linette, his voice was the nail in the coffin. Low, slow, smooth and rumbling, tinged with an accent she didn’t know how to place. She wanted to listen to him talk for hours.

The spot between his eyebrows pinched as he stooped to lean his elbow on the counter. The cut off black teeshirt he wore looked like it was fighting to stay together around the bulge of his bicep as it flexed while he held out his card for her to take.

The shimmering shift of his tattoos over refined tendons of muscle made Linette feel like she was being hypnotized as she swept his card through the slot on the side of the machine without so much as glancing at the amount due.

The payment was approved immediately.

“He’s sick, so he leaves a little girl alone to deal with grown men all day? More of a shmuck than I thought.”

The genuine ebb of disapproval and concern in his tone made Linette’s knees feel soft as she handed him back his card over the counter.

The tip of his index finger caught off the underside of her wrist as he took it from her.

Linette had to lock her shoulders back to keep herself from shuddering.

Her voice was embarrassed and quiet in her throat when she replied. “I’m twenty one. I can take care of myself.”

When he scoffed at her it wasn’t unkind so much as disbelieving.

“Yeah, I’m sure you think you can. You got anything behind the counter? Pepper spray? A gun?”

He slotted his card back into a neat, folding leather wallet as he questioned her. Linette watched the deft flick of his thick fingers and suddenly her mouth felt dry.

“Nope. Have a panic button, though.”

Pushing the wallet back into the front pocket of his dark wash jeans, he let out a short, humorless huff.

“Panic button. Shit. What‘re you supposed to do between pressing that an’ waitin’ for the cops to pull up? Just gonna stand there, smile all pretty, hope some guy my size doesn't try to rob the place or do what he likes with you?”

Linette was struck silent by the question. She had wondered the same herself countless times, but never came to any sound, practical solution other than doing exactly what he had said; standing still and hoping nothing bad happened to her in specific.

She shrugged hopelessly.

He looked at her. It was a long, strange stare that Linette didn’t know how to understand.

Eventually, he shook his head and sighed.

“What am I gonna do with you, kid?”

[ponyguru]

Gaze upon… the MAGNIFICENCE of the floof!!! 🤩 This kitty gets her own post because her clean up was just that dramatic! This Sweetie Kitties Persian came to me from the same seller as the Little Pretties (similar toys but different lines!), and she was very compressed and kind of rough when she arrived; I was afraid her fur might be sort of felted, you know? But on a whim I gave her a brush with my wig brush, and she fluffed right up! She even still has her original ribbon! She’s soooo beautiful! 🥳

[billys-pretty-babe]

Better

Pairing : Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary : Billy and you were teen parents and although it wasn't ideal, he knew he'd be a better father than his own.

Warnings : Some swearing, Billy overthinks his ability to be a good father

Word count : ~ 1.8k

A/n : Billy wants to have two daughters, he told me. Billy and reader are 20, their daughter is 2! Baby Hargrove's nickname is H because I can't think of anything but if you have any baby name ideas please send them my way :)

The morning came quickly and shockingly cold, your hand reaching out for your boyfriend, his side of the bed cold and his pillow fluffed up, the dent where his head usually is held no signs of it being used. You looked at the clock on your bedside table, wiping your eyes a little to see the time.

8:17

Usually, your guys' daughter would be awake and crying, trying to leave her room but you heard nothing, the house was eerily quiet. You got up and tiredly walked through the house and opened her bedroom door to see Billy squished onto her Disney Princess bed with her laying on her father's chest, her curls a mess on his face, his curls the exact same way.

She stirred in his arms a little, letting out a soft huff and Billy tightened his arms around her. You walked over to them and kissed her temple before kissing his cheek, "B," you softly whispered in his ear and he hummed, groaning and stretching a little, "I'm gonna get dressed for work, okay?" He nodded and you left the room, shutting the door behind you.

Nearing nine o'clock, Billy was awake as his daughter slept on his chest, her hands tight on his tank top as he gently rubbed her back. She stirred a little, kneeing him in the kidneys a few times before she woke up, softly whining, her eyes fluttering open. "Daddy," she softly said as she wiggled her way up his body so that her head was under his chin, "I'm hungry," she said, her 'r' rolling into a 'w' sound and Billy smiled. "Come on H, let's go see what we can find." She nodded and Billy picked her up, placing her on his hip before moving to the family bathroom and helping her brush her teeth as he did his own before doing both of their hair.

"Whatcha want to eat?" H shrugged, "Don't know, Daddy." He nodded and held her small hand as they moved through the one-level house, walking to the kitchen and he picked her up and put her on the counter as he looked through the pantry. "Want pancakes?" H nodded and Billy grabbed the mix before making the pancakes as he held his toddler on his hip, swaying their bodies to keep her calm.

He opened the cabinet and H grabbed her plastic plate and Billy grabbed one of the glass ones for himself before putting two pancakes on H's Disney plate and putting three on his. "H, I have to put you down for a second, babe." She nodded and Billy put her on the ground as he cut up her pancakes and he let her put toppings on it, "Easy with the sugar, babe. You'll get sick." She nodded and he helped her pour the syrup before they sat down across from each other, eating their breakfast and Billy cleaned his plate of food and when he looked up, H had syrup all over her mouth, chin and some on her neck.

Billy snickered, "Was it good, H?" She hummed as she chewed on a piece of pancake as she nodded. She finished her plate and stood on her toes to put it in the sink. "Come on, let's clean you up." She nodded and put her arms up, making grabby hands at her dad. Billy smiled and picked her up before taking her to the bathroom and gently cleaning her face, some of her hair stuck in the syrup.

"Baby, how'd you do that?" She giggled as she shrugged, her little face scrunching up. Billy cleaned her hands and gently wiped the strands of hair that got sticky. "Whatcha wanna do while Mommy is gone?" H shrugged and Billy laughed, knowing she was an easy baby to please considering she was fairly happy no matter what. "Let's clean up our breakfast and we'll go somewhere." She nodded and followed Billy like a shadow before she sat down at her plastic table that she used for tea parties and Billy quickly cleaned the dishes.

"Come on, let's get dressed." H nodded and followed him, her little feet pattering on the hardwood floor as she followed her dad into her bedroom. Billy hummed something as he opened the drawers with her clothes and chose an outfit and quickly changed her pull-up before helping her with her clothes, "Got it, Daddy," H said multiple times when she in fact did not have it and got stuck in her clothes, making Billy laugh at her.

He held her hand as they went to the master bedroom, the bed a mess and he sat H at the desk before he made the bed and looked through the closet and found his jeans and a red shirt that he hadn't worn since high school. Billy walked into his bathroom and quickly shaved his face, leaving his mustache and he trimmed his chest hair a little before getting dressed.

The door handle jiggled and Billy laughed and opened the bathroom door as H plopped down on the lid of the toilet as she watched her dad get ready. He put his cologne on and found his earrings and put them on, refusing to wear them at night whenever H slept with them since she liked to pull them.

"Ready?" H nodded and followed Billy as he grabbed his wallet and his keys and held H's hand as they walked outside as he locked the door and she tried to run to the Camaro, "Daddy, maro," she said, whining a little as she tried to pull him to it. He smiled and followed her to the car before unlocking it and pulled the passenger seat up as he helped her into her car seat, making sure the straps were tight before kissing her head and she giggled and kicked her feet a little.

Billy put the seat back to its normal position and moved it forward a little before getting into his seat and he began driving. Music played on his radio, something from the new Mötley Crüe album as he turned it down a little. "Daddy," H softly said and Billy moved the rear view mirror so he could see her and hummed, "I love you." Billy smiled, "I love you too, babe." Billy drove around before stopping at the park and he picked up H as he set her up in the swing that was made for toddlers before gently pushing her, her giggles filling the air as he smiled.

They spent the entire day out of the house before Billy drove back around sunset, knowing you'd be home soon and he wanted to make you dinner. He unlocked the front door and let H inside before helping her clean up and she sat at her tea party table with her stuffed shark that Billy had when he was younger. Billy grabbed the food and quickly cooked as the front door unlocked and you trudged through, taking the heels off of your sore feet.

"Mommy," H exclaimed before padding over to you and you smiled and picked her up, kissing all over her face and Billy dramatically sighed, "I used to get greeted like that." You both laughed as you walked to him and kissed him and H put her hands on both of your faces, trying to pull the two of you apart and you both laughed and kissed her cheeks and she giggled, scrunching up in your hold.

"What're you making? It smells good." Billy smiled, "Pasta, after we put her down, I need to talk to you." You nodded and rubbed his arm before putting H down and walking to your room to put one of Billy's shirts on with a pair of sweatpants. Billy plated the food for the three of you as you all sat down and Billy cut up H's noodle so she wouldn't choke and she thanked him as you all ate, everyone talking about their day.

By the end of dinner, H was tired, nodding off in her chair and Billy caught her head before it fell into her dinner. You both laughed and you stood up, picking her up as you went to her room and changed her pull-up before putting her in pajamas, kissing her head as you tucked her in before leaving her room and you helped Billy clean the kitchen.

"You said you wanted to talk." He nodded and you went to the bedroom. "I'll be in there in a few minutes, just gonna tell her goodnight." You nodded and Billy went into H's room and came back a few minutes later, stripping off his shirt and his jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor before slipping sweatpants on as he sat on the bed.

Billy picked at his fingernails, having clipped them the night before. "What's wrong, B?" He shrugged, "I don't know, I just feel like one day I'll mess it all up with her. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if she ended up hating me one day." You placed your hand over his, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. "Billy, she loves you so much. All she ever wants is you. You'll never be Neil, do you understand me?" He nodded but you saw it in his eyes, the worry.

"You're present in her life, hell, you fucking squish yourself in her bed knowing you're going to be hurting the next day. If that doesn't show that you love her then I don't know what will." He nodded again and a soft voice was heard outside of the bedroom door, "Mommy? Daddy? I'm scared." Billy stood up and opened the door, scooping the toddler into his arms as she held onto him, her shark plush in her arms.

"Wanna sleep with mommy and I?" She nodded and Billy turned to shut the door and H looked at you, smile on her face and you stifled your laughter, knowing she just wanted to sleep with you and Billy instead of in her bed. Billy plopped her down on the bed and she giggled loudly as you tickled her and she called out for Billy, "Daddy," she squealed out as she tried to move from your fingers that were tickling her sides and her tummy.

"Sorry baby, I can't help you." She grumbled and you and Billy laughed, "She has your attitude," you both said at the same time and Billy stuck his tongue out at you before tying his hair up, doing the same with H's hair before moving her from his side as he laid down. He opened his arms and she climbed onto him and plopped down, taking us his entire chest as he held the back of her head and kiss the top of her head, holding her close before you laid on his bicep and he smiled and rubbed the back of your head with his unoccupied hand.

A soft snore left H's mouth and you both quietly laughed and you rubbed her back, lulling yourself to sleep along with Billy as he rubbed your back.

[maxverstappensflatbrim]

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [38]

chapter thirty-eight, act five: the ballad of me and my brain

masterlist

June 3rd 2017

The little sparkly silver birthday hat sits crooked on Tommie’s head, her freshly cut short hair in a mess and her bangs are fluffed out of control. There’s silver sparkles on her forehead, catching the light alongside the beads of sweat on her forehead.

She’s wearing her beat up skeleton cowboy boots, a pair of shorts and a new sparkly waistcoat George got her for her birthday. 

Her cheeks are flushed but her tipsy smile drops when the door finally swings open, “Matt?”

“Finally!” He complains, pushing his way into the house Adam had rented in Ohio for her birthday, where her surprise birthday party was being held, “Where’s Adam?”

“Um, kitchen, I think….”

He nods, not saying much else, her eyes focus on the burnt out joint he’d dropped and she steps on it quickly before following him inside.

“You’re late.” Carly says, back of her hand hitting Matty’s shoulder as he grabs a glass to fill it with water, tipping it all down himself as he starts downing it. His white 

“Late to what,” He looks around leaning against the kitchen counter, “Why’s there so many people in the house right now?”

Carly steps back, then she reaches forward, hand grasping his chin as she opens up his eyes, “Are you high right now?”

“Just on weed.”

She shakes her head and pushes him to the side, “Are you serious?”

“It’s just weed, Carly, calm down. Where’s Adam?”

“Upstairs, I think, getting Tommie’s bir-”

“Great, cheers.” He says before heading for the stairs, almost hitting Tommie over as he passes her.

She leans back so he can pass, brows raised as she meets Carly in the kitchen, “What’s he doing here?”

She crosses her arms and looks back at the door as Carly sighs slowly, “He was supposed to be here hours ago.”

Her head snaps to Carly, her hat falling off her head, being caught by the string which makes it hand around her neck, “You invited him?”

Carly reaches out to fix the hat, brushing her bangs down and then fixing her hair, “Adam invited him. Like two weeks ago ‘cause he was moping around.”

Tommie picks at the skin on her fingernails and sighs, she leans back against the counter with her arms crossed, staring into space and hoping Matty will stay away from her.

The past few months since the Brits have been hell, touring around but feeling completely alone. Of course she had the guys, but only Ross knew what had happened that night, and even he didn’t know everything.

Caleb has stayed away, they’ve been in the same room maybe once since it happened, Gabby had come to tour but she and Matty had gotten hotel rooms and travelled separately leaving the others on the bus.

That’s when Tommie felt like she could breathe again, one less person made the metal container much more bearable to be in.

And now, on this night dedicated to her- something she would’ve hated four years ago if it wasn’t for Matty building up her birthday tolerance- she’d felt the happiest she’d been in months, maybe even years.

With Carly following her around with extra drinks and Adam giving her a slice of pizza every time her hand was empty.

Even Button had been making her feel special by cleaning up her own toys (she didn’t want any of the strangers to steal them so she hid them in different places around the house).

There’s not too many people here, the band and their girlfriends, Jamie and his missus, Denise and Louis had flown over too, some tour helpers and a few other people. Phoebe had sent about ten thousand messages apologising that she couldn’t make it after receiving an invite from Adam.

There’s no Caleb, no Gabby. And until now there had been no Matty.

She sips from her drink again and Carly leans forward to adjust the party hat on her head when it starts slipping again, “Just ignore him, he’s come to see Adam, will probably leave after that.”

She nods with a quiet sigh but quickly smiles when Rome calls her over to ask about one of the presents she’d received. 

It’s much later when Matty returns, she hadn’t even realised he’d come back downstairs but a loud racket from the kitchen only she seems to hear has her coming face to face with him.

There’s around three or four smashed glasses on the floor, Matty’s left hand is cut to pieces but he doesn’t seem to mind as he continues to fix himself a drink.

“Matt?”

He looks up, eyes squinting as he leans towards her to see who it is better, “Oh, hey.”

“Oh, hey?”

“Hello, Thomas, such a fine night tisn’t it?”

She rolls her eyes at his sarcasm and leaves the kitchen to head for the bathroom upstairs where Adam had made very clear to everyone is the place he’d stored the first aid kit that they usually keep tucked away on the bus. He’d made the purchase a few shows back when George had cut his finger when trying to make dinner as the bus was moving.

When she returns he’s sipping from the glass and she shakes her head asking him to come with her, “Why?”

“Just… please?”

That’s all it takes, he’s following her into the quiet hallway, and down the little steps out to the porch.

He has many things on the tip of his tongue ready to say but keeps his mouth shut when she forces him to sit.

She sits beside him and wipes the blood from his palm carefully, he winces, the pain sobering him up as he takes his hand away from her.

“I need to get the glass out.”

“How’d that happen?” His brows are furrowed and he’s leaning against her to stay upright.

“I don’t know.”

He winces again and she pulls his hand a little more harshly, “Stop babying me.”

“Stop being a baby.”

He huffs and she holds his hand up when it’s all cleaned up, “I told Gabby I wouldn’t talk to you.”

“Gabby doesn’t want you to talk to me?”

“No, Gabby said we’re bandmates and we have to talk to work well. But I don’t want to talk to you.”

She slides away a little, turning her head to look forward, “Does Caleb let you speak to me?”

“I haven’t spoken to Caleb in four months.”

“You broke up?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

She sighs and shakes her head at him, “You’re all cleaned up, can go finish your drink now.”

“What happened?”

She just looks at him, the party hat crooked and tears in her eyes catching the light reaching them from the kitchen window, reflecting the sparkles on her hat, “Oh…”

She nods as he suddenly realises, but he stands and heads for the door, but she can’t help it. Can’t help asking, reaching out.

“Why, Matt? Why’d you have to ruin it for me?”

“You were miserable.” He shrugs.

“Did you think it would make me happy?” She scoffs, “This life I have now. I’m in some kind of- of limbo with my relationship. With Gabby, with you.”

He shrugs and scuffs his shoes against the pavement, “Exactly, you don’t think Matty, only think about yourself.”

“That’s not true-”

“Not true? Look what’s happened, you’re still with Gabby, still got the guys cause they don’t know what’s happened, you’re fine. I lost my boyfriend, my best friend, Gabby…”

He shrugs again and she shakes her head one of the tears finally falling, “I’m sorry.” He decides to say, not looking at her, he can’t look at her.

“For what?”

“That you’re in love with me.”

She raises a brow, but then they furrow. And if he’d just look at her he’d see that face he hates seeing. The one that shows her confusion and sadness at the same time, the one that has tears in her eyes and a frown on her lips. 

“Cause I’m not in love with you.” He tells her. “I can’t be in love with you now.” He clarifies.

She finds herself holding her breath as he stands, “Why not?”

“I- I can’t.”

She stands in front of him now, party hat long forgotten as she rips it from her head and clutches it in one hand. Giving her something to hold onto, something to hold her back. “Am I that bad? What’s wrong with me, Matty? What’s so wrong with me you can get it up but you can’t fall in love?”

He opens his mouth and then closes it.

It’s not that he’s not in love with her, it’s that he won’t let himself be in love with her.

Of course he’s in love with her, he always has been. But he’ll ruin her, he doesn’t want to ruin her. He wants to get it right, to be sober and love her every second, to spoil her and wake her up with a smile on her face. To have Allen and Button run around together in a garden of their own house, a house they’ll buy and move into together.

But they can’t have that.

He can’t give her the life he wants her to have, he knows Caleb won’t either, which is why he worked so hard to split them up. He’ll agree he went about it all wrong but he just wants her to find someone good, who can give her everything he wants to give her and more.

But at the same time he doesn’t want her to find that if it’s not with him. It’s why he worked so hard to sabotage her and Caleb’s relationship.

“Go back to the stupid party,” He tells her, “Find another friend of Adam’s to fall in love with.”

She stands, speaking before he disappears down the pathway, “Do you know what this stupid party’s for, Matt?”

He shrugs, kicking at the floor which causes him to lose his balance for a few seconds. He stumbles, and she clutches the party hat even tighter not to reach out and steady him. 

She’s tired of being the one to steady him. 

“It’s my birthday.”

He stays silent, still not looking at her, “Twenty-three today.”

Still he says nothing, so she goes on to fill the silence. It’s never silent between them. Usually it’s filled with their shared laughter, or calm breaths or skipped beats of the heart.

“You know, coincidentally, that’s the age you were when everything between us started going to shit.”

“Tom-”

“It’s the truth, we haven’t been us, Matty and Tommie, for a very long time. And- I’m tired of trying for us to be that way.”

“We’re fine, perfect….”

“We haven’t talked since February, Matt. We’ve been on tour for almost five months now, and haven't said a word to each other…”

“I fucked up, I know that-”

“Yeah, you did. We both did.” She admits, “But I can’t-” She shakes her head, “I don't like feeling this way.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll try harder-”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Ma-”

“Then what are you saying? I never know what you’re trying to say. So just say it. Outright, fucking say it.”

“I hate that I’m in love with you.”

The door behind them opens, Adam pops his head out, “More pizza’s here.”

She keeps staring at Matty, he looks back up at her, Adam doesn’t move.

“Happy Birthday, Baby.” He says simply.

She nods, watching him turn, hands shoved in his jacket pocket as he heads out into the street, head ducked to protect himself from the rain and disappears from their view.

She tosses the hat away from her and sits on the steps of the house, arms wrapped around herself as she watches the hat get washed away down the street in the rain.

Adam sighs, “Come on inside, it’s raining.”

She shakes her head, lighting a cigarette from in the pocket of her shorts and staring out into the street, “What’s going on?” Adam asks after he’s sat beside her on the greying steps.

She shakes her head but he nudges her, “Come on, put that big smile back on your face. I’ve missed it.”

“I’m lonely,” She says, arms wrapped around herself, a fresh cigarette in her mouth. Adam looks at the ashtray beside her, there’s fourteen cigarettes in there, and he hopes to God that it hasn’t been cleaned out for a few days. But they’ve only been here for a day, he hopes there’s a few other smokers here, but she and George are the only two that he's seen disappeared for a smoke tonight. 

“I can’t sleep.” She says again, taking a deeper drag,  “I think I’m depressed,” She tells him, “Or Autistic.”

“Oh, you’re definitely Autistic.” Adam says and she cracks a little smile as she looks down. “You can be both. Have you… talked to anyone about it?”

She shrugs, “Like who? Caleb?” She scoffs, “Haven't seen him since February, he’s avoiding me.”

“Why?”

“Cause he knows I’m going to break up with him,” She sighs, “Matty was right…”

“Wow, never thought I’d hear you of all people admit to Matthew Healy being right.”

She chuckles, but it turns into a weird strangled sob as her entire face contorts and she starts crying, leaning her head onto Adam’s shoulder.

“I hate him.” Adam’s not sure who she’s talking about, Matty or Caleb at this point.

“He- I hate him. Can’t stand him. He makes me hate myself… and he’s so… so American-” Caleb then, “And condescending, he has to correct the way I talk and makes me feel stupid around his friends, and I…”

“Break up with him then.”

“I can’t do it over the phone-”

“Email?”

She chuckles again, rubbing at her nose harshly, “I can’t do that. It would break me if it happened to me-”

“He knows that, that’s why he’s avoiding you.”

“You know, the end approached us before the beginning.” She says.

He readjusts his grip, pulling her back a bit so the rain won;t hit her legs, “Why did you start dating him?”

“He listened to me… and I don't know, I felt like it was a way to distract me I guess…”

“From what?” She breathes in, chest stuttering, she considers telling him. She thinks over how it will go, how she will say it, how he will react, their relationship once it’s revealed. 

‘I slept with Matty, the day before I saw Caleb… we fell out over it so I went on a date with him to get back at Matty, make him feel the way he made me feel.’

‘You slept with my best friend? Are you serious? What’s wrong with-’

“Life…”

He hums, “Not to make Matty jealous?”

She looks up at him slowly, “Why would I do that?”

He chuckles, “I’m not stupid, Tommie, or blind. I know everything-”

She turns to the door in realisation of her loose mouthed best friend, “Ross! I’m gonna kill him, he told you-”

“Everything.”

She winces, head ducking down as she closes her eyes, “Ads-”

He shrugs, “You can talk to me about that kind of stuff you know-” He is quick to jump in and correct himself, “Not sex stuff… Please don’t tell me about that.”

She giggles a little, sniffling with a nod, “Okay… not even about how he-”

He unravels his arms to plug his ears and she laughs again.

He grins at the fact he got her to smile again, he pulls her into his side, kissing the top of her head, “Break up with Caleb, focus on yourself, don’t worry about Matty or the band right now. Take time off if you need it-”

She shakes her head, “I’m not quitting the band.”

“It’s not quitting, more like taking a break. No one will know, we’ll say you’re ill or something.”

She shakes her head, “I’m not leaving, not taking a break. I’m fine.”

“Don’t push yourself.”

“It’s not a push, more of a slow drag.” She says which has him laughing again as he shakes her a little.

“Promise me if it gets too much you’ll just stop. Go home, have time to yourself. I’ll come with you if you need it.”

She nods, lifting her hand and they link pinky fingers, “I will, Ads, don’t worry.”

“I always worry.”

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart, @indierockgirrl, @sofaritsalrightt, @julezs-bl0g, @eaglestar31, @sophinthealpss, @noacfemcel, @if-my-heart-bleeds, @befrwime, @fallingforel, @sexorchocolateorpillowsorclouds, @3terna15unshin3, @1975sophie1975, @thesocraticjunkiewannabe, @littlesoldierelleora, @procrastinatinglikeapro

-let me know if you want to be added :)

[dirtnapdreamfactory]

The Nature of Daylight - [Chapter Two]

Rated: Explicit for Future Violence, Gore, Mature Themes, Adult Language, and Smut. 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 1.4K

[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

The first pale rays of dawn filtered through the small, cracked window high on the wall, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the modest backroom of the tavern. On a narrow, well-worn cot tucked away into the corner, Alida, at last, stirred from her slumber. Her coppery hair is tousled from sleep and clings softly against the skin of her pale, freckled face like a halo. With a contented sigh, she slowly opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. The room was sparsely furnished with just a wooden chair and a small table cluttered with odds and ends, but to her, it felt like a sanctuary. The air carried the faint scent of stale drink and wood smoke, mingling with the lingering aroma of hearty meals served in the tavern the night before.

As she stretched her tired limbs, her petite frame was momentarily silhouetted against the light. A rush of nostalgia washed over her as she recalled the events of the previous evening - how the gruff barkeep had noticed her plight and offered her the cot in exchange for cleaning up after closing time. She had eagerly agreed, heart soaring with a glimmer of hope she hadn't felt in weeks. Now, as she sat up on the cot, letting the blanket fall from her shoulders, she couldn't help but feel a rare sense of peace settle over her. Her vibrant mane was laughably out of sorts from sleep, but she quickly brushed it back and secured it into a loose braid. Despite the weariness that still clung to her bones, there was renewed sense of determination shining in her eyes as she faced another day in this unfamiliar city.

She gracefully rose to her feet, her body still carrying traces of exhaustion but moving with fluidity and poise. As she stretched, her muscles strained and relaxed beneath her skin. With a grateful sigh, she took a moment to straighten the cot that had provided some semblance of comfort for the night. Her fingers smoothed the rough blanket and fluffed the thin pillow, a small gesture of appreciation for the temporary respite it had offered. As she stepped out into the main room of the tavern, she found that the barkeep had already returned and was hard at work, his broad back facing her as he reorganized and restocked the bar. He turned with a slight smile and nodded to her.

"Good, you're awake," He said with a grunt. "I have to give you credit, girl. You did a fine job. And you didn't take anything - good for you. So how ‘bout this: you keep helpin’ out around here and you can keep crashin’ in the back. Sound good?"

Alida's eyes sparkled with gratitude as she listened to the man’s offer. She had been on her own for so long, always moving from one place to another, never staying long enough to call any place home. But now, standing in this scruffy little tavern, the smallest sense of belonging tugged at her heart. She nodded in response, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Yes, of course," she said, her voice warm and sincere. "I'd be happy to help. Thank you."

The barkeep grunted in approval and handed her a rag and a bucket. "Give the shitter a once over - place smells to high hell," he grumbled before turning back to his work.

The young woman grimaced but regardless, set off to clean. Her mind wandered as she worked, reflecting on the twists and turns that had led her to this point. She hadn’t exactly pictured salvation would come to her in the form of scrubbing the putrid stench out of an overused privy, but alas. This newfound work was menial and unpleasant, but it was nevertheless something tangible that she could hold on to and build upon.

Before long, night had descended upon the tavern like a heavy cloak, its once-quiet atmosphere now buzzing with life. Patrons filtered in, their laughter and chatter weaving a tapestry of sound that filled every corner of the room. Alida, her tasks completed under the owner’s watchful eye, sat perched atop a barstool, a small glass of bourbon cradled between her hands. The man, Henric has she now knew him, had insisted it was on the house - a small token of appreciation for her hard work.

"Enjoy," He had said with what she assumed was the closest he could muster to a warm smile before disappearing to tend to other patrons.

The dark liquid swirled in her glass as the woman studied its movements, mesmerized by the way it curled and danced. The rich aroma of the bourbon mingled with the scents of the tavern – woodsmoke, roasting meat, and the faintest hint of pipe tobacco. She took a sip, feeling the warmth seep into her, soothing the lingering chill in her bones. Her thoughts drifted as she stared into the glass, contemplating the unexpected turn of good fortune that had brought her here.

“Maybe things are finally turning around for me”, she mused, a small smile tugging at her lips.

The subtle sound of someone taking a seat beside her yanked Alida out of her reverie. She glanced over briefly, her eyes catching a glimpse of a pale elf sliding onto the barstool next to hers. He rested his elbows on the polished surface, his posture relaxed yet elegant, as he awaited the barkeep’s attention. His hair was a manicured mess of silvery white, accentuating a face that was both sharp and graceful. The deep red of his eyes carried an enigmatic glint, drawing the attention of those around him without effort.

The flickering candlelight overhead illuminated the stranger’s sharp features as he leaned against the bar. Henric, ever attentive, made his way over, wiping his hands on a towel before greeting the man with a nod. Alida observed their interaction from the corner of her eye, only slightly intrigued.

"What can I get for you tonight, son?" The older man asked, his voice surly but remarkably cordial.

The elf smiled, a small, knowing curve of his lips. "A glass of your finest red, if you please," he replied, his voice smooth and mellifluous, with an accent that exuded an essence of aristocracy and old-world sophistication.

As Henric moved to fulfill the gentleman’s order, Alida found herself stealing another glance at the elf. There was something about him that piqued her interest, a strange sense of mysterious familiarity that surrounded him like a cloak. She took a sip of her bourbon, the liquid burning pleasantly as it slid down her throat.

"Interesting choice," she commented into her glass, not quite registering that her thoughts had found voice.

"Ah, but there is a certain allure to the subtlety of a fine wine," the elf responded, catching her slightly off guard as he turned towards her. His vermillion eyes held hers, a beguiling sparkle dancing within them. "It invites one to savor every note and nuance."

The young woman couldn't help but smile just a bit, drawn in by his charm. "Ah, a refined palate, I suppose."

"Only when it enhances the experience," he replied cryptically, his lips quirking into a playful smirk.

Henric returned with a glass of rich ruby wine, placing it before the elf. The pale figure lifted the glass to his lips, taking a slow, measured sip. Alida watched his movements with curiosity, her mind racing with questions. Who was this man, and what was it about him that felt so…familiar?

"Forgive me," she said, breaking the silence after a moment. "I don't believe I caught your name."

"That would be because I did not offer it, my dear," he replied smugly before extending a hand towards her. "My name is Astarion. And you are?"

"Alida," she answered, shaking his hand gently. His skin was cold to the touch, yet she hardly seemed to notice.

"A pleasure," Astarion murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. "A lovely name for such a beautiful creature. It suits you well, darling."

"Mhm - Sure," Alida chuckled softly, though her heart quickened at his words. "It’s not quite so poetic as ‘Astarion’, but I suppose it’ll have to do."

As their words intertwined in a dance of intellect and emotion, she felt herself sinking further into the gravitational pull of their conversation. With each passing moment, her fascination with him grew, like a wildfire consuming everything in its path. It was as if he held the key to some hidden part of her soul, unlocking a sense of inexplicable connection that left her breathless. It was as if fate itself had guided their paths to intersect at that exact moment.

And perhaps, that wasn’t so far from the truth.

[franmeh]

Do you believe in Soulmate? [Huskdust Oneshot]

Angel starts to wonder about soulmates. Hoping that maybe if they were real. He might have one himself.

Click to Read

After sometime. The Hotel had managed to get everything back to normal after the attack by the angels. Charlie's dream once more on blast by the headline 'Hazbin Hotel Freaks, Killed Adam- Adam Hazbin killed'. However it wasn't postive promotion for the hotel as now more eyes were on them. Still seeing them as a joke but interested in watching them all. The Hotel became a TV show almost.

AngelDust's happy and gory moments didn't last as long as he was reminded of his deal with Val. His fight was watched over and over, boosting Angeldust's fame and causing Val to want to cash in on it. Angel began having to work increasingly more, unable to fight back as though he was more confident. The Contract did force him into Val's hands.

While the hell grew Dark, the light peaking slightly as the morning was slowly coming. Angel finally made it back home. Opening the hotel doors. Walking in seeing that Charlie had fallen asleep in a chair while Vaggie stood next to her, looking up at the spider and the two just nodding at each other. "Charlie wanted to check on you after work. But well. you know," Vaggie said, pointing at Charlie. "Right. Sorry" Angel said with a small smile. Not being used to having someone care that much for him like that in a while. It.. was taking him a while to get use to it. Vaggie just gave a small smile. "Sleep Well Angel" was all she said as she scooped up Charlie to carry her off.

Finally, alone, Angel sighed, leaning on the door and brushing his hair. "Fancy a drink?" A deep voice called out. Angel's gaze lifted, and he spotted Husk, a smile playing on his lips as he held up Angel's favorite drink. "What, did you wait for me too, Kitty cat?" Angel teased, getting a small chuckle from Husk. "Nah, why would I do that? I just couldn't sleep." "Alright, whatever you say, husky," Angel said, approaching the bar and sitting down, placing his drink in front of him. Husk going back to cleaning the bar. Leaving Angel to his thoughts as he held his glass, moving it slightly to watch the liquid dance around the glass. The two stayed quiet.

"Hey Husk." "Yeah?" "Do you think soulmates are real?"

Angel's question caused Husk to stop what he was doing. Thinking about the question. "I don't know; if they are, I ain't got him. Don't own a soul." He shrugged. Not looking at Angel. Unable to see that he had tucked his head into his arms, embarrassed. "Yeah, I know, dumb.." Husk's ears perked up at the shift in Angel's tone, prompting him to turn around. The sight that met his eyes confirmed his suspicion-something had gone wrong for Angel. He swallowed hard, leaning across the bar and fluffing his hair. "Listen Angel. Kid... I-" He struggled with his words before getting annoyed with his failure. "Maybe they are real or not doesn't matter. You got me, haven't ya?" He said. Causing Angel's eyes to widen, still hidden. Slightly panicked by his words. Angel smiled. "Thanks Husky.." Husk turned away, trying not to face Angel due to his embarrassment. "Whatever Angel" Angel looked up for a moment "For a grumpy man, you managed to cheer me up" Angel teased, getting a 'hm' from the cat. "And~ Stop calling me kid. I am probably older than you if I didn't die early on" "Doesn't matter. I am still older" Husk smirked.

Angel chuckled, putting his head back down. "I am having a nap, don't wake me"

-----------------------------------------------

After a little time, Husk sat next to Angel, now in a deep sleep, pulling a blanket over him and sighing. "What's with all that soulmate talk, huh? I am here for you," He thought out loud, looking over to Angel and sighing. "Doesn't matter. If anyone going to get out of his shit hole. It will be you.. You don't need to worry about love. You won't be here for long.."

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 20

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: none for this chapter

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @persephonepraxidikechthonios @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @happydistraction @hannah9921 @valacircareads @toooldforobsessions @kingliam2019

Masterlist

Day 203

After arguing a little, Ash let Leah pay the normal hourly rate for his work and gave her a final hug before seeing her off.

“So,” Sy began as they stood outside the shop, “where to now?”

That was a good question. Leah had been stunned to see Sy—thrilled—but stunned. All she knew was that she wanted to keep him close but she also couldn’t miss her appointment with Ash. After that, well, she’d been too focused on not messing up Ash’s lines to think about what they would do next.

“I’m going to guess you’re starving since all you’ve eaten since you showed up on my doorstep was a couple of strawberries so… Dinner?”

Dinner was the obvious answer considering it was almost six o’clock but what kind? Did she take him home and make him wait while she found something to cook? Did they go out? If so, where? Was this a dinner and a movie type of thing or a drinks at the bar type of thing?

“I am starvin’. Why don’t you tell me where I can get your favorite takeout and I’ll meet you back at your place?”

Leah released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. That sounded perfect. She didn’t know why Sy made her so nervous. She’d never been one to turn into a blubbering mess in front of a guy but damn did she feel like a kid going up to her first crush on the school playground. Maybe it was because, for the first time, she really wanted a relationship to work out. 

“There’s a little place on 2nd Street. Every time the guys talked about what they wanted to eat when they got home, I thought about their bacon cheeseburgers.”

Sy’s desirous groan confirmed that he was fully onboard with that idea. Leah laughed, holding out her hand.

“Give me your phone and I’ll pull up the address for you.”

Sy did as requested, holding on a second longer than necessary as their fingers brushed together.

“Why don’t ya put your number in there while you’re at it. I figure that’s something a good boyfriend should have.”

Leah pursed her lips as she bit the inside of her cheek. “Is that what you are to me now?”

“Give me the next two weeks then you can decide for yourself.”

Why was this man so damn smooth? And how was he still single? The women in Georgia must have been blind. Or maybe Sy just wasn’t around enough to really get to know anyone.

“If you get me that bacon cheeseburger then you might just be able to do it.” Leah finished up with Sy’s phone handing it back to him. “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

After seeing Sy off, Leah rushed home, making a mental list of everything she needed to clean before Sy came back. She started with the living room which had the empty snack wrappers from the previous late night with her brother. She then took the trash out back and moved on to the bathroom to remove all signs of female life. Her wax strips, razor and shaving cream were unceremoniously dumped in a basket under the sink before she threw her dirty clothes in the laundry hamper. Finally, she changed the sheets on the bed, not remembering if she had done so before leaving in order to come home to an already fresh set of sheets.

The front door opened just as she finished fluffing the pillows. She made her way back down, drawn by the familiar scent that reminded her of her many amazing family nights growing up. Sy finished taking his boots off then lifted the paper bag. “Kitchen or couch?”

“It’s probably best if we eat this at a table but we can do a movie on the couch afterwards.”

“Sounds good.”

It was difficult to maintain any kind of conversation over dinner with how messy the burgers were but they both devoured their food so fast that there wasn’t enough time for it to get awkward.

“You were right,” Sy declared after finishing the final bite of his burger. “I’ll be dreamin’ of that meal once we get back.”

“How you just ate two of those and haven’t yet fallen into a food coma I do not understand.”

Although, in Leah’s experience, the more she trained and gained muscle, the hungrier she got. With a body like Sy’s—which looked to be about ninety percent muscle—he was probably capable of eating that much on a daily basis.

Sy huffed a laugh at her comment, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. “I may still fall asleep during the movie.”

Leah stood, throwing the wrappers in the trash and swapping the empty soda cups for beer bottles from the fridge.

“I need to take the wrap off my tattoo before we do that. My jeans are pressing on my skin and it’s starting to hurt.”

Sy opened his eyes, reaching a hand out to catch Leah around the waist and pull her to sit sideways on his lap. She didn’t resist, letting herself be moved and putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t stay uncomfortable on my account.” His thumb traced the exposed skin of her side. “What would ya have put on if I hadn’t been here?”

A shiver ran down Leah’s spine at the gentle touch. “Umm… Probably an old t-shirt and boyshorts.”

“Ya didn’t seem worried about undressin’ at the shop. Would it be different with it just bein’ the two of us here?”

No, she hadn’t been worried at the shop and she wouldn’t be uncomfortable undressing now. However, she did care about her appearance. Comfortable and sexy didn’t often go hand in hand. Leah may not have been trying to tempt Sy into bed but she didn’t want to look like a slob either. 

“I guess I shoulda asked before now,” he added after a moment without an answer, “but do ya wanna tell me what your limits are?”

Leah wasn’t quite sure what Sy meant but she’d only heard the word ‘limits’ used in a handful of contexts.

“Like kink limits?”

“That too but I meant any sort of boundaries ya have.”

Sy took a deep inhale, his expression turning thoughtful as he carefully considered his words. The last thing he wanted was for Leah to misunderstand his intentions.

“Imma be honest here,” his tongue darted out, wetting his lips. “I don’t care if we don’t have sex or if we don’t do anything else that would get either of us off but it would be real hard for me if physical contact was fully off the table. I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable or do something against your will. If there’s anywhere ya don’t want to be touched I’d appreciate ya lettin’ me know before I do something wrong.”

“Is that why we’re having this conversation with me sitting on your lap?”

Sy looked down as if he hadn’t realized what he’d done. It was like wanting to have her close was so deeply ingrained in him that he’d done it on instinct.

“Yeah, sorry.”

He moved to lift her off but Leah stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“No, it’s okay, I like this. I’m okay with cuddling, kissing or sitting on your lap but…”

“But I should keep my hands in safe territory and avoid anything sexual?” Sy finished when she hesitated for too long.

“Yes but no…” Leah shook her head, making her hair fall over her face. “I know it’s stupid but if you’re doing it for you then it’s usually okay but if it’s with the intention to get me off then it’s usually not.”

It made Sy angry to hear Leah talk about herself that way. It occurred to him that Leah, although confident in her physical abilities and skills in the field, always struggled to express her feelings or share personal thoughts. She usually responded better to specific questions but they still appeared to take a toll on her.

“It’s not stupid. Nothing ya feel is stupid, okay?” He held her tighter, moving a hand the back of her neck in the hopes that the gentle pressure would help soothe her. He was working off a hunch he’d had for a while that Leah had submissive tendencies. Though she didn’t like feeling out of control, Sy had an inkling that she would appreciate giving it up to someone she trusted. And that she needed more praise in her life. “You’re doin’ real good, darlin’, this is helpin’ me understand. When ya say it would be okay when it’s for me, would ya enjoy it or would ya tolerate it?”

“If I was in the right mood, I’d want to make you feel good and I’d enjoy it.”

“But you wouldn’t want me to reciprocate?”

Leah shook her head ‘no’.

“Okay. Thank you for tellin’ me.” Leah leaned into Sy’s hold on her nape, some of the tension finally leaving her body. “Is there a reason talkin' about this is so hard for ya?”

It scared him to ask the question but he needed to know if the reason for Leah’s discomfort was because of a bad past experience or if it was just how she was. Leah had kept her eyes averted the entire time and Sy fought the desire to tip her chin up, not wanting to risk her shutting down completely.

“I guess I find it embarrassing to explain so it was always easier to just act like I was into it.”

Sy touched his forehead to Leah’s temple, closing his eyes as he calmed himself.

“Don’t ever do that with me.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order. “If you’re not into it, nothing happens. We don’t need to get deeper into all this tonight but you have to promise me that much.”

Leah shifted on Sy’s lap, turning to face him more fully. Sy’s intense gaze met hers, conveying how deeply he cared about her and her wellbeing.

Feeling a little too overwhelmed for words, Leah pulled Sy forward and gently pressed her lips to his. He let himself be moved, giving her control to slowly explore the kiss.

When they parted, Leah had a shy smile on her face. “I promise.”

“Good girl.” He kissed her temple and tapped her good thigh twice. “Now go get comfy and I’ll finish cleanin’ up in here.”

“If I change then you should too.”

“I’m not the one with a massive wound on my leg but I can take my pants off if that’s what ya want.”

Leah rolled her eyes, biting back a smile. “Well, it wouldn’t be a hardship but I meant you should put on shorts or sweats or something.”

After Sy agreed to change, Leah went upstairs and made sure her tattoo was clean and dry before slipping on her boyshorts and oversized t-shirt. She looked herself up and down as she tied her hair into a loose ponytail, declaring herself as ready as she could be.

When she returned, Sy had already made himself comfortable on the couch, scrolling through the movie options. He’d changed into what looked like thin sweatpants and was stretched out in the corner of the L-shaped couch.

“Don’t move for a second.”

He watched as Leah pulled what looked like a drawer out from under the main section of the couch and popped it up to form a mattress sized couch.

“Well that’s convenient.”

“Dad got sick of me and Caleb fighting over the single ottoman we had so he bought this couch instead.”

Spotting the instant change in Leah’s mood, Sy stretched out his arm in invitation. She crawled forward, snuggling into his side and gratefully accepting his quiet comfort. Conveniently, Sy had chosen the side of the couch that allowed Leah to rest on her good hip so she made herself comfortable with her other leg over Sy’s lap.

“Did you find something to watch?”

Sy flipped through the titles again. “I don’t recognize most of the names but I’m up for Friday Night Lights, Taken, Coach Carter—”

“Ooh, I haven’t watched Coach Carter in forever.”

“Coach Carter it is.”

He started the movie and handed Leah her beer, taking a sip from his own. The weight of Leah’s body against Sy’s appease an ache that had been growing stronger in Sy since he’d met her. It had started in earnest after the whole Sharpie tattoo incident, turning into a bone deep need for her touch.

After careful consideration, he placed his hand on her thigh just above her knee. When she didn’t flinch with pain, he began tracing patterns over her skin.

They both managed to stay awake throughout the whole movie although Leah was definitely struggling to keep her eyes open. Sy switched off the television as the credits began to roll and slipped off the couch, leaving a grumbling Leah behind.

“Come on, baby girl, I’m sure your bed will be more comfortable.”

She smiled sleepily scooting out from the center of the couch. Sy couldn’t help himself, he leaned down and pulled Leah into his arms.

“I can walk, you know.”

“Yeah, but the last time I carried ya up a set of steps I couldn’t do it how I wanted. Indulge me.”

Leah pressed her nose into the crook of his neck, humming in appreciation. Sy carried Leah into the bathroom, seating her on the counter. “I’ll leave you to it while I go get my bag.”

“Okay. My room is the one on the left of the stairs.”

After brushing her teeth and relieving her bladder, Leah grabbed her trusty ink towel and set it up in her bed.

“What’s that for?” Sy asked as he came in and closed the door.

Leah took the tie out of her hair, shaking it out. “Blood is easy to get out but ink, not so much.”

“Only you could tell me that blood stains are easy to get out as if it’s an everyday occurrence and without a lick of sarcasm.”

Sy reached behind his head, pulling his shirt off by the collar. Leah shamelessly studied his chest and stomach. His hair had grown back but she didn’t mind it one bit. The pants came off next, leaving Sy in only his underwear and the man looked damn good.

“Well,” she began, shaking herself out of her six-pack induced trance and getting under the covers, “all you need is hydrogen peroxide and it comes right out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sy joked, catching Leah’s chin and tipping her head up for a languid kiss that made her melt into the mattress.

“G’night,” he whispered, placing a final peck on her cheek before switching off the light.

Reversing their positions from their night at the motel, Sy slipped an arm under Leah’s head and drew her closer until her back was pressed to his chest. After a short moment of silence, Sy spoke up again. “For the record, the southern charm worked.”

Chapter 21

[nixie-writes]

Octavia x Cousin Reader - I Belong

I wrote this a little while ago and it's not my best but I need to post something while my wrist heals so have this. The reader is Andrealphus' daughter (but you can easily change the pronouns).

You awoke to the sun shining in your face, blazing in your eyes. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you crawled out of your bed and walked up to your mirror. Your servant, Lamb, approached you. “How are you doing this morning, [Y/N]?” You fluffed your feathers, smiling in the mirror. “Oh I’m doing wonderful, Lamb! Today is the day I meet my cousin!” You explained, allowing her to use gel to smooth out your feathers. The imp walked over to your closet and pulled out a pink dress with ribbons. “Your father suggests you wear the dress your aunt Stella bought you for this occasion,” Lamb told you as she approached you with the dress. You nodded in agreement. “I want to look my best for this!” You exclaimed excitedly. Lamb nodded; “you will look absolutely stunning, Miss [Y/N].”

After Lamb took off your nightgown and put on your dress she grabbed your makeup. “Now Miss [Y/N] stay still while I apply your foundation, concealer and eyeshadow.” She instructed as she sat you down on your vanity. You rolled your eyes. “Oh Lamb, you know father says I don’t need makeup; I’m beautiful without it.” You told her, sitting down at your vanity and examining yourself in the mirror. Lamb nodded her head in agreement. “That is true Miss [Y/N] but you know how Miss Stella is; she wants you to look your best for this meeting.” She told you as she applied foundation to your face. You tried your best to stay still while she did your makeup but you could hardly contain your excitement. 

“Lamb, do you think Octavia will like me?” You asked her, your worries resurfacing. You’d been looking forward to this occasion for a month now but you were concerned your cousin wouldn’t like you. Lamb patted your back reassuringly. “Don’t worry Miss [Y/N], I’m sure your cousin is just as thrilled as you are to finally meet.” You looked up at her and smiled. “Thank you, Lamb.” Lamb smiled down at you, rubbing your shoulder. “Of course Miss [Y/N],” she responded. 

You ran to the kitchen, excited to see what Archibald, Andrealphus’ butler, was making for breakfast. Lamb scuttled after you, trying to keep pace. You skidded to a halt at the entrance to the kitchen, taking a deep sniff. “Mmm, pancakes!” You exclaimed as you ran in. Your father was already sitting at the food table, reading his newspaper. You skipped over to him, peering at the newspaper. “Hello, father!” You greeted him, climbing in his lap. He chuckled and patted you on the head. 

“Hello my little peacock,” he replied, rubbing your head. You peeked over the table to get a look at the newspaper. It was advertising a party hosted by Stella, your aunt. This party would be when you got to meet your cousin for the first time. “Father, do you think Octavia will like me?” You inquired, gazing up at him. He produced a couple of ice cubes for his tea and replied, “of course my dear, why wouldn’t she?” You wriggled out of your father’s lap and moved to your own seat, scooching up and placing a napkin into your dress to prepare for your breakfast. 

Shortly after you arrived Archibald placed a plate of pancakes in front of you and refilled Andrealphus’ tea. “Father, why are you not eating?” You inquired. Andrealphus looked up from his tea and responded, “I’ll be eating at the party so I want to save my appetite. I told Archibald to only give you two pancakes so you’ll still have an appetite without being hungry.” You nodded in understanding and dug into your pancakes, eating them up in record time. You were always a clean eater and didn’t get anything on your napkin. 

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” Andrealphus reminded you as you finished your milk. You replied with a muffled sound of agreement. Setting down your empty cup you ran to the restroom, grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste. After brushing your teeth until they gleamed you ran back to your father, who had Archibald pressing his tail feathers with gel. “Are you ready to go, my little peacock?” He asked you, examining your dress. It aws pink with ribbons and frills. “My sister made a good choice in that dress, it does suit you well,” he complimented. You did a little twirl to show off your dress and Andrealphus clapped. “You look lovely dear, get ready to leave.” You ran to your room and grabbed your favorite toy, a plush unicorn with wings. Its mane and tail were rainbow colored, the body was white and the wings were pink with glitter embedded in them. 

Your father waited at the door as you rushed up to him, unicorn plush held between your hands. “Father, I’m worried; what if they don’t like me? I’ve never met these demons before,” you voiced your concern. Your father shook his head. “Don’t worry my little peacock, if someone doesn’t like you pay them no mind. You belong in the Goetia family,” he assured you. You clutched your unicorn plush as you followed him out the door, Lamb and Archibald following. Andrealphus opened the door to the limousine for you and you climbed inside, him closing the door behind you. He walked around the limo to his seat near the front, sitting behind Lamb and Archibald as they started up the vehicle. You looked down onto the floorboards of the vehicle, kicking your feet back and forth with anxiety. You were worried your cousin wouldn’t like you and no one could assure you otherwise. 

When you finally arrived at the palace Stella and her husband, Stolas, lived in, Lamb opened the door for you and you clambered out of the limousine, glancing around. It was a tall palace, almost reflecting the sun. The doors were decorated with stained glass and there were many pillars. It was daunting to you. You would have turned back if it weren’t for your father taking your hand and leading you to the door. He knocked twice and an imp answered the door, presumably a butler. “Oh, Sir Andrealphus! Miss [Y/N]! What an honor; please, come inside.” The butler led the both of you into the palace and into the party room. Across from you were three owl demons. One was a tall, lanky owl wearing a dark red tunic and beige pants that went to his knees, and a tattered cape accessorized with feathers. Beside him was a female owl demon wearing a white dress with puffed sleeves and feather trimming with black accents. Between them was a small owl demon wearing a pink dress with white stars adorning it. You recognized her as your cousin but you were too shy to approach her. 

“Stolas, Stella!” Andrealphus greeted, hugging his sister, your aunt. “I assume this is your precious little Via?” He inquired, petting her head. She nodded meekly, clutching her dress. You fiddled with your unicorn plush, waiting for your father to introduce you. 

“This here is my darling daughter, [Y/N],” Andrealphus stated as he moved to stand beside you. Next to him you were almost a carbon copy of him, blue feathers at your chest with an ice emblem and everything. You walked across the room to your cousin, meeting her for the first time. “Hello, Octavia,” you said, bowing to her. “I’m [Y/N],” you introduced yourself. Octavia examined you closely. “You’re my cousin?” She asked, looking you up and down. You gulped. What if she didn’t like you? All your past anxieties came flooding back to your mind. 

“Do you wanna play with dolls?” Octavia asked, snapping your attention back to her. You stared at her dumbfoundedly for a minute before nodding your head excitedly. “Sure!” You replied. She took your hand and led you out of the ballroom and to her bedroom on the second floor. When you entered you were surprised with all the space themed stuff she owned. Star-shaped pillows, starry wallpaper, blanket with stars on it, countless space themed items and clothes. It made sense with Stolas studying the moon and stars, that he would give his daughter a space themed room. 

Octavia opened a drawer and pulled out two dolls, one a bunny and the other a turtle. “I heard there’s this human game where a hare and a turtle race, wanna play that?” She offered. You weren’t sure what to do but you nodded your head in agreement. 

You two had been playing with dolls for about 30 minutes when Lamb opened the bedroom door. “Miss Octavia, Miss [Y/N], dinner is served,” she said before rushing off to help Archibald with the plates. You grabbed your unicorn plush and followed Octavia down the stairs to the dining room. There were many chairs, presumably for a party. You took a seat beside Octavia. The five of you ate your meals and Stolas sent you two off to Octavia’s room for the night to sleep. 

You and Octavia shared her bed, there was plenty of room for two children. You dozed off for about an hour when yelling woke you up. You awoke with a jerk to the sound of Stella screaming at Andrealphus. You couldn’t quite make out what was being said so you snuck out of Octavia’s room and down the stairs, standing just outside of the dining room. 

“Andrealphus that child is a nightmare! If she were mine she’d have gone to an orphanage by now!” It struck you like lightning: she was talking about you. For a split second fear threatened to sweep you off your feet - what if your father listened and put you up for adoption? “Stella please, keep that opinion to yourself,” you heard Stolas try to reason with her. You were frozen solid. You couldn’t walk in there and beg her to like you, nor could you go in there at all. You were supposed to be asleep. 

“As if I’d ever! [Y/N] is my daughter whether you like her or not. She’s your niece and you’ll have to live with it,” Andrealphus told Stella. You heard her snort. “Good luck with that nightmare,” she said and began walking away from your hiding spot. Andrealphus sighed, turning and walking towards your hiding spot. You were still frozen in shock and couldn’t move, you could only hope you were in a dark enough spot to where he wouldn’t see you. Luckily he had his face in his bands as he walked out of the dining room, meaning he didn’t see you. You breathed a sigh of relief that you weren’t aware you were holding. 

You snuck back up the stairs into Octavia’s room and climbed in the bed, tears in your eyes. Your movement woke Octavia and she rolled to face you, blinking sleep from her eyes. “Are you okay?” She asked, sitting up when she saw your tears. You sat on the bed and placed your face on your knees, wrapping your arms around your head to hide the tears. You choked on a sob. 

“It was mum, wasn’t it?” She asked, rubbing your back. How did she know? “She always makes dad cry; I can tell she said something that struck a nerve. What did she say?” You sniffed, rubbing tears from your eyes. “Um, she said that my father should put me up for adoption because I’m a nightmare to put up with,” you confessed. Octavia gasped loudly, pulling you into a hug. “She has bad thoughts on others but I promise you won’t be put up for adoption, I won’t let them,” Octavia promised. As a child who didn’t understand you trusted her, hugging her back and crying into her sleep gown. 

---

“We’ll meet at Stylish Occult, right? …Okay, see you there.” You hung up the phone and called for Lamb, your buttress. She came at your beckon and climbed into your limousine. “To Stylish Occult as per usual please,” you requested as you checked your texts. It wasn’t like Via to want to meet on weekends. You didn’t know why but she refused to meet on weekends but now she wanted to? What was the plan here?

When you arrived at Stylish Occult you climbed out of the limousine and entered. Looking at the taxidermy was the easily recognizable Octavia and a face you never expected to see: Stella’s. You gulped. Before you could make a beeline for the door Octavia turned around and noticed you. “Hey, [Y/N]!” She called out to you. Stella turned around, shaping you up and down with disapproving eyes. Meekly you approached her, trying to avoid Stella’s stare. Before you could make it to Octavia Stella scoffed. “You seriously invited her here? You know how I feel about her,” Stella said, rolling her eyes. You felt a smidge of defiance. 

“You know Stella, I’m a Goetia, whether you like it or not,” you started in on her, grabbing her attention. “I get you don’t like me but you can keep your fucking opinions to yourself; Via and I are cousins and I’m your niece, live with it.” You glared at her, ready to get physical if she chose to throw a slap at you for disrespecting her. She only snorted. 

“My daughter can do as she pleases, but I would be embarrassed to be seen with such a disappointment,” she shot back at you before leaving the store. Octavia grabbed the taxidermy she wanted and paid for it, and bought you a shirt for a band you really liked. 

“I’m surprised you stood up to my mum like that,” she said as she examined her new taxidermy. You shrugged; “she deserves it, I’m part of the Goetia family whether she likes it or not,” you told her. Octavia giggled, “Wanna get ice cream after this?” She offered. You nodded your head in agreement. “Yeah, sure,” you agreed, tucking your new shirt into your purse. 

[ofduskanddreams]

Sensation and the Scent of Waterlilies

For @talons-and-teeth. The prompt: Omegaverse Gwynriel with Alpha Gwyn and her Omega, Azriel.

Gwyn x Azriel ✦ Rated M (but SFW?) ✦ 685 words ✦ on AO3

Azriel’s gone. In this place—the lightning-filled feeling of his veins, the full body hum pitched at a frequency like this is everything and he is nothing but sensation and the scent of waterlilies—he’s immaterial, immeasurable.

The real world returns slowly. Consciousness is a feather reluctant to give over to gravity’s determined pull, but coming down is inevitable.

First, it’s the sensation of soft palms tracing up and down his sides. He’s fever warm but those hands are cool bliss stroking. Next, it’s the grounding weight pressing his hips and thighs down into the mattress at the center of his nest. Finally, just before he braves a peek through his lashes, Azriel can hear her voice—what began as unintelligible sounds are now words.

“... so good, sweetheart. You’ve done so well. I’m here. I love you. I’m so lucky to have you. My Azriel. My omega.”

“Alpha,” Azriel breathes, eyes fluttering open and finding her. 

“I’m right here, Az,” Gwyn tells him, hands traveling higher to cup his face and brush his hair off his damp forehead. “How do you feel?”

He rallies enough brain cells to scan his body and replies, “Better. I think it’s over now. I’m no longer…” he blushes as he recalls the onset of his heat. “I’m not out of my mind with desperation to have you anymore.”

Gwyn laughs, smiling down at him and Azriel’s chest lights up at such approval from her. “I’m glad you’re finally somewhat satisfied, love. It’s been three days.”

“That explains why I feel like I’ve just run back-to-back marathons,” he says with a groan.

“You were wonderful, Azriel.” Gwyn traces his cheekbone with her thumb, then leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. “You stay here, I’m going to clean you up a little and then go grab some food for us from the kitchen.”

Azriel thinks that’s for the best, he’s not sure his limbs would be capable of obeying him at the moment. She’s gentle as she uses a warm cloth to wipe away the mess and then she’s gone. Even though he knows she’s only a floor below him, Azriel can’t help feeling anxious at the distance.

He traces the slightly raised, crescent-shaped mark on his neck. It calms him, feeling the evidence of Gwyn’s claim, feeling the proof that he is hers and she is his and she will never leave him behind.  

Gwyn returns, guiding him to sit up against carefully fluffed pillows and they eat until they can’t manage another bite. Azriel has a blurry memory of Cassian delivering them food at one point, but his heats are always a haze in hindsight.

“I’m going to go run you a bath now, and I’ll join you after I change the bedding, okay?”

Azriel nods, he’s grateful for the simple instructions. His heats always leave him exhausted. Making decisions, even ones as trivial as these, is the last thing he needs right now. 

“Thank you,” Azriel replies, kissing Gwyn’s freckled shoulder to add another layer to his gratitude.

She cards her fingers through his hair, and Azriel leans into the touch, humming in pleasure. He whines a little when she draws her magic hand away and Gwyn laughs, a soft and delighted sound. “If I keep doing that, you’ll fall asleep.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Gwyn shakes her head, her expression somehow both fond and admonishing. “I know you’re tired, but you know that you’ll hate yourself if you go to sleep like this.”

And of course, she’s right. But that doesn’t stop Azriel’s eyes from drifting closed the moment his aching limbs are submerged in the steaming water. He hears the soft rustling of shifting fabrics through the partially open bathroom door and it soothes him, knowing that she’s near.

Azriel dozes. Only the swish of displaced water and the sound of his name coax his eyes open. Gwyn sits on the far side of the large tub, her coppery hair piled high into a bun to keep it dry. 

“Come here, Azriel,” she tells him.

And Azriel is happy to comply.

✦ ✦ ✦

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