#but something immensely fluffy

[nemo-in-wonderland]

ALSO, DO NOT THINK THAT I FORGOT ABOUT THE SPICY MEPHISTEA ARTWORK.

I DIDN'T.

I am just here, debating if to make it mild or spicy or extra spicy lololol

Because if it's TOO spicy, I cannot post it here lol.

SO AM EVALUATING.

because if you think that my brain has not been thinking about my most beloved disfunctional power couple, YOU ARE WRONG.

The Lord of Cania and his Consort are very much strutting around the brain like they own the place (and they kinda do, like, wtf convinced me to sign their lease fml), AND I CANNOT BE HAPPIER.

and honestly.

Honestly.

SO YES, SMUTTY ARTWORK IT IS.

[rafey-baby]

sweet treat 2

in which sexy construction worker!rafe who spends his days 'lifting heavy stuff and building shit' (his words) and driving shy!reader home, shows up on her doorstep in the middle of the night...

18+ mdni!

c/w: construction worker!rafe being a tease, slight somnophilia, smut (dry humping, p-in-v, unprotected sex)

wc: 2.7k

hi! this is a part two to this (also this whole story was originally supposed to be just a small blurb consisting of a few silly sentences but then i got a bit carried away :D) anyways hope you enjoy xx

part 3 part 4 part 5

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

It’s past midnight when her doorbell rings, making her brows furrow. She throws the fluffy covers away, immediately yearning for the warmth of them as she pads her bare feet along the chilly hardwood floors of her apartment.  

No one has ever been at her door this late, which makes her hesitate. Maybe it’s just her neighbor asking for sugar, she tries to reason, as if the retired elderly lady living next door would even be up this late. For all she knows, it could be a criminal who’s escaped prison, holding a bloody knife at her. 

Curiosity ends up getting the best of her (as always) when she gingerly opens the door, mentally preparing to face a serial killer.

However, all her worries wash away like pollen under rain when she realizes it’s Rafe standing tall before her. 

“Oh, hi. What are you— what are you doing here?” A surprised look paints over her visage.  

“You forgot this in my car, thought you might need it back,” he’s grinning, holding out a phone to her, pale yellow case making her realize it’s her phone. She almost doesn’t recognize it, since it appears so tiny in his massive paw, almost like a miniature version of the device she’s grown accustomed to.  

“Oh my god, I was looking everywhere for it, thought I was gonna have to buy a new one,” she takes it from him, a grateful smile etching her features.  

“Yeah, couldn’t exactly call you,” he shakes his head at his terrible attempt at a joke. 

A delighted giggle escapes her throat, nonetheless, eyes crinkling and teeth poking out; forcing the corners of his mouth to lift up as well as he finally takes in her appearance.  

A worn-out t shirt a few sizes too big and…well, that’s it. She’s not wearing anything else. He’s trying not to stare at her plush thighs, or the way the hem of the shirt slightly climbs up, revealing even more skin as she rakes a hand through a messy head of hair, swallowing nervously under his attention.  

Unfortunately for the both of them, he never actually ended up fucking her when she came over to his place last week and had him cook for her. He just felt so bad about initiating something like that when she kept yawning through forkfuls of pasta, eyes barely staying open as she complained about her limbs aching and how she was so exhausted she could sleep for a week after the particularly long shift she’d just had.  

Which is why he simply drove her home after their late-night dinner and wished her a good night with a heavy hand on her shoulder, thumb smoothing over the material of her shirt, letting her rest in tranquility. Telling himself he could be patient with her, not wanting to rush anything.  

However, she’s not making it very easy for him right now when there’s only one piece of clothing covering her. She looks so sleepy and pretty he has half the mind to pick her up in his arms and slump down on her bed, crawling under crisp sheets and feel how her lungs expand against his chest.  

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He carefully asks, suddenly worried he’s disturbed her serene slumber.  

“No, no. I mean, I was in bed but couldn’t really sleep so…” she trails off, desperately trying to come up with something to make him stay a bit longer, not wanting him to go yet; finding immense comfort in his assured presence.  

“Um, do you— do you want to come in? I could make you some tea or something?” She clumsily offers.  

His brows raise, surprised at her proposition. She’s being uncharacteristically bold; his mouth twists into an amused simper. 

“Actually, forget I said anything, you’re probably really tired and just wanna go home, sorry, I don’t know why I even—” she scrambles to correct herself, and now that sounds more like the girl Rafe’s grown familiar with.  

“Don’t be stupid, of course I’ll come in,” he cuts her off, stepping past the threshold, taking a look around her cozy home. Leafy plants adding greenery to the small space and picturesque paintings fixed on the cream-colored walls. It’s cute, he thinks.  

She sets a steaming mug in front of him on her kitchen table and sits down next to him on a wooden chair. He’s definitely not staring at the way the bottom of her shirt rides up the tops of her thighs, allowing for the flimsy material of her panties to peek out. He clears his throat.  

“You often have trouble sleeping?” He tries to focus on something else, anything else, taking a slow sip of the searing liquid; nearly burning his tongue in the process.  

“Yeah, sometimes. It’s just sometimes it’s hard to shut my brain off after spending all day at the cafe. I try to fall asleep but the loud noises of the customers talking and the clinking of plates and spoons keep replaying in my head and suddenly I’m wide awake, you know?” She explains.  

“I’m sorry, is there anything that helps?” He prods.  

“I don’t know, I guess just trying to think of something else or talking with someone else,” she mumbles out. 

“Oh, so what you’re saying is that you’re just using me in order to fall asleep?” He teases, grinning when he manages to drag out yet another giggle from her mouth.  

“Yeah, I suppose I am,” her eyes glimmer like little stars when she looks at him.  

“Should I feel offended right now?” He jokingly scoffs.  

“No, you should feel flattered, I don’t invite just anyone into my home at almost 1 am, just so you know.” 

And he thinks he likes this side of her, all playful and sleepy, she’s a lot less reserved than her usual fully rested and overly conscious self would be, more carefree. Maybe that’s the reason he lets the next words escape the gaps of his teeth.  

“You into cuddling?” He asks, profound aquamarine locking with her rounded eyes.  

“Uh— I mean, I probably would be if I had someone to cuddle with, but I don’t so…” she drifts off, not sure how to respond. 

“Wanna cuddle with me?” He says it so nonchalantly, and she doesn’t understand how he’s so indifferent to this whole situation while she feels dizzy, dazed mind reeling and vivid heart tingling in her ribcage. 

“Really? You want to? But wouldn’t it be weird?” She seems taken aback by his proposal. 

“Why the fuck would it be weird? I mean, we’re friends, right?” His brows crease. 

“Yes, of course we are, I just—” 

“Look, all I’m saying, is that it might help you sleep, yeah? Having something else to focus on and shit,” he reasons, making her realize she’s totally overthinking this; he’s simply trying to help.  

“You’re right, yeah, we should do that then,” she agrees and swiftly gets up on wobbly feet, almost falling face first on the ground, if not for his strong grip on her waist steadying her, grounding her, drawing a faint gasp from the back of her throat at his sudden proximity.  

“Easy there, Sweetheart,” he chuckles against her hair, finding her eagerness to get into bed with him amusing.  

“Sorry,” she mumbles, a raspberry hue dusting over her cheeks.  

And that’s how they end up tangled in each other under her soft sheets, his beefy arms wrapped tightly around her middle, caging her in with gentle fingertips toying with the hem of her shirt. His sturdy chest rises and falls against her back in tandem with his steady breaths, pacifying her; coaxing her heavy lids to flutter closed.  

He’s so warm and big making her feel so secure and safe she thinks she wouldn’t mind doing this again.  

“You good?” He murmurs next to her ear.  

“Mhm,” she blissfully croons, letting out a content exhale.  

Her mind begins to topple over the edge of reality, plummeting into oblivion; a far away dreamland where everything is upside down and the ether is evermore the shade of fluffy cotton candy and the sand consists of stardust and ecstasy.  

“Sweet dreams,” is the last thing her misty awareness grasps onto before she’s in the tender embrace of a crepuscular dormancy.  

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

She’s lethargic in her movements when she rouses from the abstruse blankness she seems to have lost herself in. Rafe’s heavy arm is draped over her waist, trapping her body into his and it’s murky in her unlit bedroom; the pale moonlight gleaming through the slots in her curtains the only beacon illuminating the space.  

The lines of her cerebrum are blurred and she’s not sure what has woken her up.  

Then she feels it; something poking her from behind, pressing against her ass. There’s a crinkle in her brow until her eyes widen in realization.  

He’s hard. Rafe is hard and she can practically feel the culprit of his excitement since he’s only wearing a pair of boxers, having complained about getting all too hot during the night to wear anything more. 

She swallows.  

What is she supposed to do? 

She shifts against him, trying to untangle her limbs from his. However, her attempt is proved fruitless when instead of unchaining her, he lets out a low groan, rumbling deep from his firm chest; grip tightening around her smaller form.  

“Rafe?” She calls out. 

No response.  

“Rafe? Wake up.”  

Still nothing. 

She can feel him breathing heavily against her hair; pawing at her hips every now and then, trying to pull her even closer, even if they’re already effectively glued together and there’s absolutely no means for her to move.  

She’s starting to become sticky between her thighs as he drags her against his cock again; seemingly stuck in a stupor.  

She mewls when her clit throbs, pestering for some sort of friction. And that’s when he finally stirs, the weight of his arms loosening like a tight knot unfurling and her lungs are finally able to greedily suck in brisk air.  

“Shit, sorry, my bad” his tone is gravelly and at that, some sort of birds begin flapping their wings in her tummy, jabbing at her insides. 

However, he doesn’t pull away like she half expects; her face heats up. 

“It’s uh— it’s okay. I mean…no worries,” she rambles because what the fuck is she supposed to say? 

“No, it’s fully my fault, just had quite a nice dream,” he admits, voice coarse. 

“Oh. What was it about?” She inquires, yawning, perhaps too curious for her own good.  

“You wanna know?” His brows raise, surprised. 

She hums.  

“Well, there was this really pretty girl, and she had me in her mouth and was letting me do whatever I wanted to her,” he murmurs with a heady tone overlaying his response.  

“Oh,” she tries to appear indifferent, although there’s a pitiful sprout of jealousy threatening to blossom from the damp soil in the pit of her stomach at his words.  

He chuckles at how oblivious she is. “You’re silly sometimes, you know?” He was practically dry-humping her just now, was he not? Why would he be dreaming about another girl when he’s got her right here with him? 

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, smiling to himself.  

“So, what else happened?”  

“What else? Okay, then she let me do this,” he says at the same time as he grabs her hips again, pushing against her, earning a faint whimper from her when she can feel how big he is through the thin fabric of her underwear. 

“Rafe…what are you doing?” She manages to ask through a whine; his blunt nails denting the exposed skin of her thighs.  

“Got no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?” He mutters, shallow. 

“I— what are you— what are you talking about?” Her brain is foggy and she’s not able to think straight when he’s so close.  

He doesn’t answer, instead continuing the retelling of his dream. “Then I grabbed her like this,” he lifts her on top of him in one smooth motion, as if she weighs nothing more than a piece of paper. Her inhale gets stuck somewhere along the way when he paws at her hips, shuffling her around until she’s straddling him, properly sitting on top of his cock and he lets out a heartfelt grunt when she moves her achy cunt over him.  

“You like this? Such a needy little thing, yeah?” He helps her find some relief by grappling at her hips; dragging her against his cock, filthy groans escaping his mouth when he feels her wetness saturating the two layers of cotton between them.  

“Rafe, can you…”  

“Can I what, hm? Play with you a little?” He says as he slips a hand in her panties, fingers petting at her puffy clit and a loud moan leaves her when she lifts the fabric of her shirt up in order to have a better view.  

“Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl. Getting real fucking wet from me just being close to you, yeah?” His thumb rubs lazy circles on her sensitive button, making her cry out his name as she presses down harder against his cock. 

“Shit, gonna come in my fucking pants if you keep doing that. You wanna know what else was in my dream?” 

She nods, frantic.  

“I pushed this little piece of fabric here to the side,” he says as he plucks at her underwear, doing just that. “And then, I did this,” he mutters as he takes himself out from the confines and her eyes round out as she looks down at it in his palm, mesmerized. He thuds the head of his cock on her clit, one, two, three times, and then smears it on her sticky folds, painting it up and down her soaked cunt.  

“Rafe…” she whines, desperate to feel him inside her. Unfortunately for her, he’s feeling a little mean, pressing just the tip inside her tight hole, slowly pushing in and out, turning her into a whimpering mess. The hydrangea blue of his eyes is locked down to where they connect, fascinated.  

“Fuck, Sweetheart, does that feel nice?” He asks, swiping a thumb over her swollen bud, tucking his cock in a little deeper, forcing a loud noise to leave her throat.  

“Feels so good, Rafe, I think I’m gonna…” she trails off, lids heavy as she stretches around him.  

“You’re gonna come already?” he chuckles, amusement coating his face, nudging his dick about halfway in and out, never fully plunging it inside of her though.  

“You feel so good, I can’t— can’t hold it,” water droplets are gathering in the corners of her eyes, catching to her lashes as teary eyes look into larimar and she rolls her hips against him, chasing after some sort of release. 

“Shit, go on then, let me feel you soak my cock, yeah?” He encourages her and she doesn’t need to be told twice; crying out and throbbing around him, hips stuttering as her cunt pulses and she’s unspooling on top of him. 

“There you go, just fucking give it to me,” he grunts and all of a sudden, he feels his own orgasm approaching; rolling down a hill like a landslide. She’s squeezing around him so tight, he can’t help but thrust his hips into her, a guttural moan leaving him when he stuffs his cock profoundly into her, to the hilt.  

He stills inside her and then he’s groaning out when his cum gushes out from his drippy tip, coating her gummy walls in white, filling her to the brim; making her feel so full. She thinks she could die happy right now.  

There’s so much of it, to the point where the sticky substance begins to seep out from where they’re connected as they both pant, trying to even out their breathing.  

She turns into something mellow in his arms, slumping down against him, burying her face in his neck as he draws sluggish circles on her back, calming her down with tender words spoken in gentle murmurs.  

“Did so good for me, shit, we should do this more often, yeah?” He says with a sleepy tinge.   

And she’s completely out of it, head as empty as ever, merely managing an amorphous hum in agreement; tumbling down a slippery slide right back into a nebulous slumber. 

[cherrieflavouredheadcanons]

Hi can we please have fluff w Aventurine where reader and him reunite after 2. 1 and just fucking elope start a new life etc? Please I need it.

God yes. This is what we all need after 2.1. I'm aware he is in a coma-like state technically now but for the sake of fluff and this headcanon he is awake from that coma and is now reuniting with you. CW: Spoilers for 2.1 and Aventurines actual name, starts angsty but then turns fluffy, Gn reader, pre established relationship hurt/comfort

I am still accepting requests (especially for aven) btw so if you wanna see something send it in!

Back in your arms

You had lost track of how long it was since Aventurine left for his mission in Penacony. Has it been 2 months? No, probably more. It had been months since you last had been able to make contact with him. Your messages no longer went through, unable to be sent.

Looking at your textlog and scrolling up, you came across the last message he had sent you. It had come in while you were asleep, and it simply read “I love you”.

Waking up to that message would have been a sweet message for most people, but for you it had made you immensely worried.

 Aventurine was never someone who professed his love openly, so such messages were quite rare. Receiving such a message, especially unprompted, made you send him a barricade of texts, none of which went through and even now months later none were able to be sent.

If you were honest you were starting to lose hope of ever seeing him again, who knows what happened in Penacony after all? He could be…dead for all you knew, you had no way to verify whether that was true or not after all. 

You tried continuing your life on as you would normally, what else could you do? It was hard though, everyday you missed him more and more. Sometimes you imagined his face in a crowd somewhere but whenever you would take a closer look he would vanish.

Sighing you closed your phone and looked around your apartment, it felt so liveless ever since Aventurine was gone. Tears were falling down your eyes as you wondered how much longer you had to live with the uncertainty of where he was and if he was even alive.

Exhaustion was taking over as you began falling asleep. A common occurrence nowadays, since at night you were restless, unable to fall asleep as you worried. Just as you were beginning to fully doze off, you heard the door to your apartment open, immediately waking up.

No one but you and Aventurine had the key, and with him being absent panic coursed through you thinking someone was breaking and entering. You grabbed the nearest heavy thing to defend yourself with.

“For fucks sake…” You muttered as you made your way to where the noises were coming from. Cursing every entity out there for piling even more shit onto you as if your significant other being possibly dead wasn’t enough.

Readying your weapon (probably a heavy book) you stepped foot into the room where the noise was coming from ready to attack and hit the intruder. But once you saw who it was that was in your appartment, you dropped your makeshift weapon, a sob escaping your mouth.

Before you stood Aventurine, alive and breathing. You rubbed your eyes, making sure that this wasn’t your mind playing a cruel trick on you again. Aventurine watched you with a smirk on his, albeit very exhausted looking, face and his eyes held a new found softness you had never seen before.

You fell into his arms immediately, holding him tightly against your body, feeling his warmth. Desperately you grabbed at his clothes as you held on to him, scared this was all just a dream and you would wake up all alone once again. Tears were falling from your eyes, unable to hold them back, the relief washing over you making you let out all of your emotions.

“Wow you missed me that much?” He asked, in his usual teasing tone. Though there was something in his voice that usually wasn’t there. Desperation and a bit of fear. Was he afraid you wouldn’t have missed him? Or was there a deeper reason for it?

Moving away from the hug you grabbed his face in your hands, the tears still falling from your eyes as you took a good look at him. His face had fallen in, and he seemed exhausted. But there was also something in his eyes, his beautiful eyes you were so sure you would never see again, that you couldn’t recognize, having never seen it on him before.

Before you spoke your first words to him, you pulled his face closer and gently kissed him. The feeling of his lips on yours felt like you were floating in heaven. They may have been more chapped than usual, but fuck was it nice to feel him again.  Breaking the kiss you finally were able to muster up your first words to him.

“Fuck…I was so worried about you…I…When my messages stopped being able to sent I was…so sure you…Please…never worry me like that again Aventurine…”

You leaned your forehead against his, your words jumbled together from the adrenaline coursing through you.

He took in a deep breath, and held it for a moment before letting it out. A gesture you saw in many people before they needed to say something important and heavy, but one you never saw in your lover.

“...Kakavasha…” His voice seemed unsure and meek as he spoke. 

You, of course, had no idea what he was saying, so you looked into his eyes confused.

“Wha-”

“Kakavasha…it is…my given name. The one my mother gave me” He inhaled deeply before he continued.

“It is a long story but the short version is…I am no longer affiliated with the IPC, they probably think I died or something. So I no longer go by Aventurine, and…with how close we are and how much you mean to me. I felt like it was appropriate for you to know my true name...”

His eyes refused to look at you, flickering about unsurely as he spoke. Though he tried to sound confident, his voice wavered, scared that you would not accept him for who he truly was and reject his true self.

You looked at him gently and with all the love you had for him, gently pulling him close again and kissing his nose.

“Well then…It is nice to meet you Kakavasha…” You smiled brightly at him, showing him you accepted him as he was.

He felt relief course through his body and could not help himself but pull you into a passionate kiss. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to stay alive. As if he would die without you.

Breaking the kiss he whispered “Marry me.” It wasn’t a question but a request. One that you were too stunned to answer to, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I mean it. Let’s get married, run away from everything and start a new life just you and me.”

His eyes were pleading with you to agree. He knew that he wanted to start over, but he knew he needed you with him.

“...yes!!” You once again fell into his arms and kissed him. The two of you holding each other so closely it was as if you were one.

Kakavasha knew that he would need to tell you everything that happened in Penacony at one point, even the part where he tried to end his life. But he knew that if he explained everything to you, you would still stay by his side and be with him. 

You were his family after all.

[milkis-deepspace]

sylus x reader - period pains

a/n: this is very self-indulgent^^ features established relationship and just fluffy goodness

being on your period is never fun. for around a week you have insane cravings, unbearable cramps and some major mood swings. truly horrible in all honesty. but the most embarrassing part was how needy you were especially now since you were in a relationship.

sylus is prepared for anything when it comes to you. ever since you've stayed over at onychinus' head quarters - he has made sure that anything you would ever want or need, would be at your disposal.

heating blanket? bought already.

pads and tampons? they’re placed in the cabinet under the sink, right besides sylus' skincare.

medicine? you knew where they were.

a massage? that... that was unexplored territory. while you and sylus were in a relationship and were quite touchy-touchy, asking for a massage seemed intimate. but then again, this might be the hormones talking. but would he think you were weird for requesting that? probably not, sylus would without a shadow of a doubt accept (almost) any of your requests. but would you really ask the mr. sylus qin - the already extremely busy leader of onychinus who had mephisto track your every move? speaking of the damn bird...

“i got a call from a little birdie saying a certain person has been in pain all day and didn't want to quote unquote bother me,” sylus enters the bedroom and takes off his jacket.

tsk, of course mephisto had tattled on you! that damn crow, someday you would make the crow heed under your command but today was not that day…

“sometimes it isn’t this bad, so i thought it would be okay,” you mumbled, curled up on sylus’ bed. it seemed as if the cramps intensified and sylus went over to sit beside you, his eyes filled with worry.

"tell me, how can i be of help to you?”

you glanced at him and shyly considered your answer. “well, uhmm, do you mind if- uh could you maybe give me a little massage…?”

sylus chuckels and easily complies to your request.

with a heating blanket placed under you to relieve the stomach cramps and sylus' warm hand massaging your back, you couldn’t help but to feel so immensely content. his big hands were perfect to warm you and his soothing voice was an anchor to keep you sane.

“you tell me if it’s too hard alright? i don’t want to unintentionally hurt you,” his thumbs pressed into your lower back, making sure to focus his strength on the tip of his fingers. his thumbs worked in circles, hands moving up and down, getting every tense spot.

his fingers worked like magic on your back. every touch, every caress made you fall into a state of heavenly bliss. just how did he learn to massage that well?

"do you want me to go harder? or softer? you need to remember to tell me, sweetie,"

"mngh, it's good. keep going," you replied with your eyes closed. you didn't want to break this moment - and you almost felt tempted to stay in sylus' bed forever - as long as every worry you had dissappeared.

"shh, just relax. i got you,"

his hands move up to your upper back and massages between your shoulder blades. a couple of days ago, you had remarked about how sore you were - it was meant as a fleeting comment - but it was something sylus was determined to remember. who was he if not the person to take away your pain? just mention whatever you want and sylus would make sure it would happen.

your pain eased away and pleasure replaced it. he noticed how much more relaxed you were now, and proceeded to lie down besides you. while you had fallen asleep, sylus gently played with your hair. it was still a wonder to him that you were here, in his bed, just making yourself at home.

after what felt like 9 hours were merely half an hour and you were still cuddled up with him and as the pain subsided you noticed how tired you truly were. a yawn escaped from you - and sylus' chuckle almost brought you back to reality.

“you’re welcome to fall asleep again sweetie,”

sylus saw the pure look of exhaustion and adorned your face with kisses and gentle touches. from your forehead to your jawline, sylus adorned your every feature with careful, loving pecks.

you fell victim to the lullaby that was sylus' heartbeat and when your breathing turned even, sylus too decided to join you in dreamland.

[recklessmatt]

fascination - c.s જ⁀➴✮⋆˙

PAIRING: chris sturniolo x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 1K

GENRE(S): smut

SUMMARY: in which chris has this fascination to your voice, especially when you moan his name

WARNINGS: smut [dom!chris, unprotected sex, dirty talk, light degradation and praising, fingering, breeding]

chris always had this fascination with your voice. he couldn’t explain it, something about your voice is just so enthralling, you were something special. he loved listening to you talk about your day or whether you needed to vent about something. he couldn’t help but smile everytime he sees you get so passionate about whatever topic you’re talking about. he loves your giggles when he’s being goofy to help cheer you up, he loved making you laugh. but he especially loved your moans.

it was late, and instead of sleeping, he had his fingers buried deep inside of you. you let your head fall back onto the fluffy pillow, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt chris reach that sweet spot inside of you with the curl of his finger everytime he pumps into your cunt. 

“c’mon lemme hear you baby” chris mumbles against the crook of your neck, licking and sucking lightly on your neck knowing it turns you on.

“mmmm fuckkk chris” you moan out loud, closing your eyes letting an immense amount of pleasure take over.

“that’s my good girl” chris’ sweet voice praised you as his fingers started to pick up speed. 

“r-right there” you stutter out, fingers digging into the bedsheets as you feel your orgasm close.

“yea baby? i can feel you squeezing around my fingers.” chris says as he adds pressure to your clit, starting to rub in little circles that has you screaming.

“you’re so wet baby, i can’t wait til fill you with my cock.” chris whines in your ear sending you over the edge. 

“fuck! im cumming” you yell out as you feel your orgasm wash over you leaving your legs trembling and chris to lowly chuckle. “that’s my girl.” he says slowly pulling his fingers out of you leaving you to wince slightly from the sensitivity. 

“c’mere mamas” he says grabbing your cheek and jaw with one hand as the other grips onto your waist. he leans in smushing your lips together, you moan into his mouth which causes him to moan into yours.

“fuck, i love hearing your voice.” he mumbles against your lips before messily making out with you again. he pulls away leaving both of you breathless. chris is quick to undress himself before hovering over you. he gives himself a couple strokes using his precum as lubricant. 

chris pulls your leg up and rubs his dick against your slit coating himself in your arousal leaving you to shudder and whine still feeling a little sensitive from your previous orgasm. you threw your head back onto the pillow sighing as you feel him push himself into you slowly bottoming you guys out. 

chris started to grind himself into you letting out a small moan feeling how wet and tight you were. deep breaths left your mouth and your hand firmly grasping onto his hand which was gripping onto your waist keeping you steady. 

“c-chris o-oh, my god!” you moan out loudly. 

chris groans picking up his pace gripping tighter onto your waist throwing his head back.

“god you sound so sexy moaning out my name” 

you gasped as you feel him thrust into you harder, choked moans and whines leaving your mouth and filling the room as his cock rammed right into your sweet spot. you arched your back as you moved to grab his bicep, fingers digging into him.

“that’s it baby” chris chuckles lowly feeling you clench your walls around him. 

“you look so pretty like this, like a desperate little slut. yea? are you my desperate little slut?” he moans out as he sees how fucked out you look. all you can do is nod with tears starting to well up in your eyes as you felt overwhelming pleasure that made you dizzy. 

as chris picked up his pace, thrusting into you faster and harder he leaned down to bury his head in the crook of your neck sucking onto your soft skin trying to supress his moans and groans which makes you cry out. 

“chris..!” dragging his name out as you cry in his ear.

“fuck baby, you’re gonna make me cum with your voice” he lets out a throaty groan against your neck feeling you roll your hips to match his. 

you grip harder onto chris feeling yourself getting closer to your peak leaving you to whine in his ear. your whine sending goosebumps down chris’ body leaving him to moan loudly. he raises his head to take a good look at you. and you just looked, mesmerizing. 

“you feel so good, i’m gonna cum inside this little pussy. d’you want me to cum in you? hm?” 

you let out a hoarse moan and clench your walls around his length at the naughty thought.

“f-fuck, yes yes yes! please cum in me chris!” you stutter out feeling close to your orgasm. 

chris leans his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, moaning at the thought of filling you up with his cum. he bit his lip, sloppily pounding into you losing his rhythm when he feels you wrap your legs around his waist.

“cum for me baby.” he says as he puts pressure onto your clit rubbing in little circles.

“fuck chris!” you yell out when you feel his thumb on your clit, clenching and cumming all over his cock. 

this was enough to send chris over the edge from the mixture of your walls tightening around him and you crying out his name. with one more hard thrust, you feel him coat your walls with his hot cum as he lets out a small whine. you both ride out each other’s high, before pulling himself out of you with a content sigh and laying down next to you.

“i fucking love your voice so much” he says grabbing your face to give you a big kiss on the lips.

author's note: surprise surprise, a chris story hehe. can ya'll believe i wrote this in day (if this story sucks its bc of that), im sorry it’s kinda short 😭thank you guys for 900 followers omfg i never thought i’d see the day and i have a small surprise planned when i hit 1k hehe anyways yea i hope it met your chris needs love ya'll stay sexy babes mwah kissy <3

taglist: @luverboychris @mattscoquette @strmbolisworld @nmegamett20 @sturniclo

@shadowthesim @surniolozzzprincess @sturnsintrouble @sturniolo-slvt @mattandchrismakemewett

@stonermattsgf @zivall @sturniolo-fann @gvf23

@thecynthh @jayz4dayz4 @beccaluvschris @cindylcuwho @sturngirly

@sturnslcver @nyktoxs-lover @simplysturn @il0vecatzzz

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ BLOMSTERTID, PART FOUR !

summary :: Centuries-old mage, Y/N L/N, possesses magical abilities unheard of. A few citizens monopolize the remnants of magic they find, of which they now title “Hextech”. Hearsay of this power bleeds through all of Runeterra, until Piltover and Zaun find themselves in an anarchic war to obtain said power. Before Y/N can even blink, however, the humans neglect their plans when they realize they’d rather have Y/N instead.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 10.7k

content warnings :: SPOILERS! obsessive!vi, yandere!vi, yandere!jinx, yandere!viktor, gender neutral reader, alcohol/alcoholism, violence, suic1de attempt, & some s3xual themes (but nothing too explicit).

vi's yandere traits are . . .

ambitious, territorial, & controlling

⋆ ｡ ˚ ⋆ ⸺ When the moon rises and the vibrant world eases, Vi always finds herself dreaming of the same thing. 

She imagines herself beneath a shower of softness, the sight of prickling tears or bruising flesh disintegrating. Even in the height of her childhood, her desires have always been adorned in thick blankets of fluff. Instead of toys and trinkets, it was hopping sheep and tickling feathers. Here, there would be no further need for clenched fists anymore, not when there is tender love. 

To feel the touch of gentle warmth — that is the haunting desire which paints her dreams.

It is a desire that is entirely foreign. A stranger, indubitably. Yet, this hunger is so immense, the mere thought of actually satiating this emaciation causes her stomach to sway. 

Even standing at a high point in Piltover, identity exposed to any lingering pedestrians, Vi does not feel at unease. Beside Mylo, Claggor, and her sister, Powder, the heist they frivolously forged in their heads fails to provoke any nerves within the young girl. If anything, she is fearless, as many have described her as. Not a worried bone in her body.

Slithering into the apartment of a Topsider came with its bumps in the road, but nothing that team could not swiftly smooth out. The mess of golden gadgetry scattered around is framed in an array of twisting cogs and sprockets. Books are spread through the expanse languidly, a few left open and dogeared to certain chapters. A wide chalkboard joins this scientist’s paradise, as well. Scribbled in white chalk are a myriad of mathematical equations she couldn’t decipher even if she cared enough to try. 

With a warning of concern to Powder (and a quick scolding to Mylo and Claggor), Vi sets out by herself and finds an office space nestled at the end of the hallway. The door is of a dark mahogany wood, carved with dark golden frames and intricacies. Oh, to be born so lucky and care for the appearance of a simple door. 

Within, there is a wider variety of books, scattered pages of blueprints, and even a lone, half-eaten sandwich. 

And right in the center of this mess is a figure. 

She cannot articulate how (or even why, for that matter), but the sight of them yanks the breath right from her chest. For the very first time in her tumultuous, violence-induced life, flight-or-fight has become a afterthought. Standing on the threshold, she freezes. 

Bent over the desk is a cloaked stranger. Their fingers, jagged and dark-hued, toy with some electric experiments. The subtle jingle of the jewels and adornments beneath their coat perfuse through the silence. A cloud, almost a halo, suffuses from their form in hues of purple and sapphire. All that is missing is a fluffy pair of wings and Vi would be positive she’s just stumbled upon an angel. 

When they turn over their shoulder to identify the sudden, yet sneaky entrance, she truly feels like she has become a statue.

They are pretty. Frighteningly so. Not in the same vein as the Piltover Pageant Queens, but something entirely beyond that. It is pure and unearthly; something soft, yet gut-wrenching. A whole other universal level of ‘pretty’, she’d describe. And as high and mighty as she carries herself, that stone-hard facade crumbles to baby pebbles when a subtle smile stretches on their serrated lips. 

They stand to their feet, abandoning their efforts with Topside science in favor of her. As they step closer to her, something unknown crawls about in her stomach. That hunger, so comfortable in its withering starvation that the mere scent of nourishment has it itching to sprint away. Still, she remains frozen in dazed wonder. 

It is only when they halt before Vi does the realization settle. She wished she had chased them through that sandstorm. Chased them through any storm, for that matter. She can no longer count on her fingers the instances in which she found her sister doodling that exact face among the walls of the Last Drop’s basement, her hands a permanent stain of old chalk and dry markers. It is simply a sloppy cartoon, she always assumed. But now, it is everything and so, so much more. 

“You may have a good heart, but you must not let it blind you.” 

Wind chimes. 

That is what the voice sounds like, accentuated by summer winds and sprinkling rain.

Wide-eyed like some stupid puppy-dog, all Vi can do is stare as they bring their hand up to her cheek. The heavenly warmth perfusing from their palm meets her flesh and in a flash, her vision is overwhelmed in darkness. Images flood through the shadows, all painting a picture of this stranger. 

They sit beside a river’s edge, peering into the water surface and scrutinizing their appearance in utter horror. Splotches of purple and blue cover their skin, contrasting in varying sizes and hues. Incomprehensible gibberish glitters across their exposed, sparkling skin. Black streaks of dirt and ash leak down their face with the seeping tears. Horrific perfection. 

“Mama…” They whimper, cracked and devastated.

A gasp leaps from Vi’s chest as she is finally granted clarity. 

Her feet fail her in awkward tumbles, before she inevitably falls to the ground. She finds herself to still remain in the office of this rich Topsider, but she is now in complete solitude. The stranger has vanished. Nothing remains in their departure besides the open window panes swinging with the wind. 

They leave the girl no room to digest the fact that every desire of softness and tender touch was just clutched in her palms. Not when it had abandoned Vi as quickly as it was granted to her.

This sense of abandonment festered inside of her for the remainder of an entire decade. 

Desperate endeavors at grasping a sliver of what you had gifted her all prove to be futile, no matter how ambitious the attempt. If anything, the sheer opposite had infested Vi’s life; a pendulum swung ahead to something amazing for only a second, just to remain stagnant on the opposing end for many agonizing years. 

Any effort at forcing that pendulum back, maybe even reforging the events of her memories, only serves as a blunt reminder of what she is now. A pit fighter, of all things; a savage spectacle. All her hands now know is violence.

Large streaks of dirt paint the expanse beneath her eyes. A smudge here, some dusted there — just the same as you, peering at yourself on the reflective surface of the river. And as devastating as the conclusion is, she has no choice but to accept this is what her life was made for.

The only remnant of peace Vi can grasp in this life is within the walls of her bedroom. As artificial as it may be, drinking herself sick and watching her poisoned brain carve fantasies into reality is the highlight of her day. 

Slumped over the thin mattress, she gapes in reverie at the blurry sights of you. Sometimes staring into the cracked mirror, a deity admiring the masterpiece of their appearance. Other times laying right beside her, gentle hands that cannot get enough of her flesh. Maybe even bludgeoning her fists into the punching bag, imagining some lovelorn, teenage-like fantasy of her defending your honor, to where you drown her in praise and gratitude. 

The peace is puny, pitifully so. Yet, is the only drop of fuel pushing her forward through this pathetic life.

And indulging in these visions is exactly Vi’s intentions as she returns to her room after another win in the pit. That is, until she is greeted by a sight that alone is enough to ruin her entire night. 

“Violet.” A smooth accent speaks.

Standing beside her door is a figure dressed in that familiar, irritating gold and blue uniform. Navy-blue hair is slicked back into a ruler-straight ponytail, framing her sharp face, paired with a gun almost as tall as her towering frame.

“Who are you? And how do you know my name?” 

She displays her badge like a shimmering trophy. 

“Commander Kiramman. Leader of House Kiramman. Address me with respect, or keep your mouth shut.” She speaks with direction, chin held high and chest puffed out. Classic Topsider.

“Still doesn’t answer my question.” 

“It’s written on your face.” 

Vi sighs out in defeat, entering her room and grasping a random, half-full bottle from the ground. She lands with an exhausted groan on her mattress.

“So, what is it now? Random search? Escort off the property? Or are you just here to waste my time?” 

The Kiramman follows suit and stands on the threshold, gaze stern as she glares at Vi. 

“I’m here for an investigation. I’m sure you and your people,” She spits out, “have heard of the attack against the council.”

“Yeah.” Vi snickers. “Just means we got a few less Pilties to worry about.” 

The last syllable barely parts from Vi’s mouth before she finds herself staring down the barrel of a gun. 

“I warned you, filthy rat.” 

She merely rolls her eyes at the aggressive gesture. Violence is a second home, after all. 

“Fine. I don’t know shit, alright? Bomb went off, rich people died — I know just as much as the other schmucks in this pit.”

With measured ease, the Kiramman sighs out a breath, folds her gun, and tosses it over her back. 

“We’re looking for Jinx, the criminal mastermind behind the attack. We’ve received several reports of her appearing around this area.” 

She folds her long arms over her chest. 

“Since you are the most prominent figure in this… pigsty, surely you have seen her.”

Vi sneers in response. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’m too busy trying to keep myself afloat down here. Not that you Topsiders know jack shit about that…” 

She then takes a hardy chug of the alcohol in her hands. As she drinks, the Commander slips her fingers into her back pocket. She unfolds a wad of paper, before presenting it to Vi. 

“Then, do you recognize this person?” 

Cheap whiskey spatters from Vi’s mouth when she registers the contents. Eyes blown wide, she goggles at the sight of your face sketched in almost exact clarity amongst the lined page. A near identical replication of the day she was blessed with the genuine sight. 

The bottle in her grasp is swiftly abandoned in favor of snagging the paper from the Enforcer. A grunt of disdain huffs from her, but Vi is too engrossed in you to care for the disrespect of the stranger in her room. Every intricacy and trace is done with such grace, she may as well have been holding your face in her palms. 

“We are under the impression they played a role in this attack-” 

“No!” Vi abruptly interrupts. “They wouldn’t- You don’t know anything about them…” 

“Well… Whoever is behind it, we believe they are after Hextech. We’re halting all trades until further notice.” 

The words may as well have been background noise to Vi. In one ear and out the other, inevitable when she is met with the most realistic depiction of you she’s seen in years. 

“If it interests you,” The Commander begins, shoveling another item from her pocket. “You seem to know more about Y/N than you let on. And we need as many bodies as we can get.” 

The gold glimmer of an Enforcer badge grasps Vi’s attention. Taunting her, almost. She slaps the badge out of her hands almost as quickly as it was revealed, the metal clinking with the several empty bottles left languidly in the corner. 

“Fuck. You.” Vi seethes, her grasp still latched to the paper in her hands. Possessive is her disposition.

Nonetheless, the Kiramman remains just as stone-cold as she was when she first waltzed into the room. She does not utter another word before she leaves Vi to herself, her offer still plaguing the silent air.

Vi’s back hits the mattress with a hard thump. Paper still in hand, she stares into the etchings as though you were truly here beside her. Terrifying perfection.

It is that very perfection that sat Viktor here in the first place.

Right beside his partner before the city's councilors, who all look down at him as though he were a muck-covered stray at their doorstep. 

Piltover has never been his home, nor has its people accepted him as. The only home he has ever been granted full claim of is you and the paradise that is the sanctuary you’ve cultivated. Now, that serenity has been robbed straight from his hands; he was granted a second of heaven and nothing more. And it is torturing him more than he is willing to admit. 

Viktor’s disposition alone does all the confessing necessary, however. Urgent conversations from the councilors are drowned out by the forlorn, cry-ridden mold seeping through his mind. What was once soul-crushing anguish is now simply nothing. A hollow numbness that permeates his entire being; a deep pit that could only be filled by you.

Some frantic entity within him desperately latches onto any loose thread of yours he can find, but any breath of you is merely a figment of his imagination. No matter how hard he may fight and thrash, the truth still bludgeons its bruised, bloody fists into his form: Viktor was not strong enough for you. And without you, there is nothing else in this life that interests him.

“If the Under-City possesses even a sliver of Hextech, this could only result in-” 

“It is not the Under-City you should concern yourselves with.” Viktor interrupts. “It is Jinx who is the problem.” He snarls her name like he is spitting out rotten food. 

All attention is forced to Viktor, but his gaze remains far and distant. His thoughts have lost themselves in an open field of torturous disarray. 

“How are you so positive this is the effort of a single individual?” Cassandra questions him. “How do you know this Jinx you speak of is not working with others?” 

A sneer itches at his lips. 

“That rat stole Hextech directly from my hands. She will stop at nothing if it is for the sake of Y/N.”

“You speak quite highly of this… Y/N.” Mel Medarda inserts herself into the discussion. “Seems to me they hold some imperative power. Am I mistaken?” 

“They are of utmost importance. Y/N is an absolute necessity.” 

Whether this imperativeness is for the sake of Piltover or himself, he isn’t sure. Still, he will lay his deepest feelings bare for all the Councilors to judge and belittle if it means bringing you home. Viktor is now miles beyond desperation and this new sensation frightens him to no end.

“Power that Jinx could want, perhaps?” 

Viktor shakes his head in disagreement. “No, no. These… feelings Jinx has for Y/N tread deeper.” 

“You propose Jinx is possibly in love with Y/N?” Mel inquires further. 

“I believe Jinx thinks she is in love with Y/N, but it is merely insincere. No, a creature like her will never amount to anything worthy enough for Y/N. They are simply too…” 

A soft fog drapes over his expression. 

“Resplendent. Brilliant a-and radiant. An angel we have been-” 

“I think what my partner is trying to say is… Jinx is a problem that needs to be promptly addressed.” Jayce rescues Viktor from the social-suicide he was seconds away from committing. 

This does not save him from the ghost of his memories plaguing his body, however.

In the clap of a second, Viktor has returned to the scene of the crime: within the whorls of your beloved sanctuary. That laughter, that haunting laughter, pervades through his memory like a thrashing storm. Perfusing into every corner of his mind, granting the tortured man no possible room for clarity. And so enchanted with the moment, Viktor does not attempt to fight the urges his body indulges in before his eyes are rolling back and he’s leaning in to kiss you. 

Before your lips can meet in a music-swelling moment of bliss, an abrupt explosion penetrates through the air. The romantic scene is brought to a record-scratching halt and instinctively, Viktor leaps to protect you from the sudden intrusion. A fraction of his mind curses him for not discerning the threat sooner. He’d be a stronger knight if his monarch weren’t so damn hypnotizing. 

The swarming fireworks are soon engulfed by the encroaching of smoke bombs, erupting the once breathtaking environment into hazy clouds of purple, pink, and blue. Viktor does not hesitate before sacrificing his body as your shield, tackling you to the ground and ensnaring himself around every inch of flesh he can reach. 

Just as he begins to drown you in relentless assurances of his protection, his devotion, how he’ll never abandon your side, the rampant chorus of footsteps then accelerate behind him. 

In a flash of blue braids, he is knocked out cold.

When Viktor wakes, he discovers himself motionless in a pool of his own blood. Through his dizzy gaze, the colorful smoke has eased and the sun has reached its highest point. A bitter silence has now overwhelmed the air. Nonetheless, the only thought present in his mind is you. 

He searches through the havoc to no avail, dragging himself to his stuttering legs to further search his surroundings. Limping forward, every nook and cranny present is scrutinized by this crazed man, prayers of finding your face drifting from parted lips. 

The frightened villagers have all scurried to their homes, barricading the doors and windows with any fragment of protection they can garner. Cowards, Viktor mutters to himself. There is no force in the universe that could restrain him from ensuring your safety. He would tear mountains asunder just to see a smile stretch on your face.

Abruptly, Cassandra Kiramman is what halts Viktor’s trip down memory lane. 

“We cannot ignore the possibility that Y/N may be working alongside Jinx. What proof do we have that tells us otherwise-?” 

The snap! of Viktor’s cane splitting into two permeates the room’s expanse when he slams it against the desk edge. 

“You keep their name out of your filthy mouth!” He spits out, wild and enraged. “There is no boundary I will not cross if it means being united with my spouse! Be it another bomb from that blue-haired mutt, I will persist through all-!” 

In the matter of a second, a violent force crashes into the room and several councilors are killed beneath its weight. 

Viktor, horrifyingly so, is almost among those several. Not with the desperate enforcement of Jayce Talis, who rushes him to the lab to treat his fatal injuries.

And this very lab is where Jayce has remained for the past several days he has lost count of. 

His partner remains stagnant in the mess of Hextech, opalescent strings of gooey sludge enmeshing his unconscious body. Meanwhile, Jayce scrutinizes every etch of Viktor’s journals, searching for some antidote that will wake him from this magic-induced coma. Though, the most redundant theme in these scientists’ notes is the etchings of the same face, sketched over and over again in an obsessive harmony. 

Jayce’s fingers drift among the surface of the page, dragging his gentle touch among the curves and shading of their paper face. He can understand why Viktor is so enthralled by them, as they are evidently, heart-wrenchingly beautiful. But, Jayce is not an easy man. Thus, he does not waver for the artistic works of a man head-over-heels. He’ll just choose to ignore the strange pit in his stomach every time he recalls Viktor using the word “spouse” in regards to them.

“We need to begin preparing ourselves for a full-scale invasion.” 

Caitlyn Kiramman announces herself abruptly as she struts into the room. 

Upon this intrusion, Jayce slams the journal shut as though he were caught by his mother sneaking sugar before dinner. He cannot put a finger on the reasoning behind such a culpable reaction, but he digresses to accommodate her presence, anyway. 

“You’ve taken this time to secure Hextech, I presume?” 

She rounds the corner, but her determined strides reach a sudden halt upon finding the sight of Viktor. For just a moment, there’s a glimmer of emotion in Caitlyn’s expression. Brief, albeit, but its existence had prevailed fleetingly, nonetheless. 

“He’s breathing. That’s… That’s all I know.” Jayce mutters.

Her weakened attitude is swiftly replaced by her habitual, stiff disposition. Chest and chin held high, she continues. 

“There is no use dwelling on these matters. Not when the Under-City is potentially planning another attack.”

Exhaustion getting the better of him, Jayce scoffs at her persisting suggestions, rubbing the ache in his temple.

“Cait, I already told you. I promised Viktor. You can’t just go down there, guns-a-blazing-!” 

“And I have told you, Jayce, this is no longer up for debate. Jinx has proved herself to be an extraordinary threat. Now, we have proper reason to believe Y/N is, too. It is absolutely imperative these threats are located and neutralized.” 

Caitlyn glares daggers as she awaits his response. Jayce has been rendered speechless, however. The hopeful plans he formed for this nation a decade ago have all crashed and burned in a violent matter of seconds. He has found himself at a complete loss, no successful direction on this plane to resort to. All due to this Jinx character. Now, potentially, this beautiful stranger, as well.

Stuck within his inner turmoil, Caitlyn perceives his silence as an answer. She turns her shoulder and takes a single step toward the door.

“Let me try talking to them.” 

This grasps her attention.

“You… You wish to speak to Y/N? Why?” 

A confession of what lies in Viktor’s journal bridges on his lips, but he halts the efforts of his honest tongue. 

“I, uh…” Jayce gulps nervously, but conceals the motion with a forced cough. “I believe I can crack through them. If I can talk to them, I may be able to predict Zaun’s next attack.”

Caitlyn merely gapes at him in utter bewilderment, stammering over herself before she can properly articulate her puzzled thoughts. 

“That is vacuous! Our knowledge of Jinx is weak, yes, but Y/N is an utter stranger! A monster, at that! You’d be throwing yourself into uncharted waters, Jayce, you cannot be-”

Her expression drops from scrunched confusion to bitter offense when she realizes the intent behind his lies. He refuses to meet her eye and maintains his vision to the glossy floors. Ashamed, but he will not admit such. 

“What will Miss Medarda think of that? Hmm?”

Her tone is low and cautionary. A gentle threat, subtly jabbing at her new privileges as a respected councilor member.

“It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. The sake of Piltover is most important.” 

The thinly-veiled lie provokes a sharp, dry laugh from Caitlyn. It is her final response before she promptly takes her leave.

Another powerful figure of the Upper-City has been claimed by this all-engrossing outsider. That being one of the closest friends she has ever known. This creature will surely claim more, unfortunately, but Caitlyn will not allow them to possess her. 

She will stop at nothing to bring this devil to their feet. No matter what it takes.

Down under, thundering music and flashing lights dance around Vi. Slumped over the ragged surface of the bar, the ache of alcohol hammers her messy mind. Her pockets are heavy with the coins she earned from another win in the pit, but her senses may as well have been melted to jelly with how much intoxication she has poisoned herself with. Just another night spent resorting to whatever means necessary to forget, the bartender knows all too well.

Tonight, however, another heavy-weight worry has been tossed onto the pile of thousands. 

“Me? An enforcer?” Vi chuckles at the prospect alone. “The peanut patrol can suck it, for all I care!” 

Another mouthful of liquor burns her throat as it descends. 

“That Piltie-bitch wouldn’t know Y/N if they punched her in her dumb face, heh!” 

Her bruised, calloused hand lazily grasps hold of her cheek, the very way you did all those years ago. A glance over to the busy dance floor and her evening intentions have found success. There you are, your cloaked figure like a sore thumb among the other partygoers; a scene so out of place, it is almost comical.

“Y/N…” 

With liquid courage working its wonders, she has an unbearable urge to shuffle over to you, collapse against your form, and pour her heart from her ribcage straight into your palms. The confession would be drunken and disgusting, stained in inky reverence and muddy worship. Yet, perhaps you’ll be so moved by this passionate declaration, you’ll let her drag you back to her room and-

“Sheesh, kid. Back at it again?” 

She’d let out a groan if her body had the energy to do so. 

Loris, a regular in the audience, sits himself beside her. Or, ‘Wannabe-Vander’, as she has jokingly titled him after one too many shots. 

“What’s ‘yer diagnosis this time, ‘ey? That ‘Y/N’ ‘yer still caught up on?” 

Her languid arm attempts to shove him away in her drunken state. Maybe sock him in the face for speaking of you so passively while she’s at it.

“Shut up… Dick…” 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get ‘ye home.” 

His arms lock under hers and lift, bringing Vi to her wobbly legs. Reluctantly, she follows his guide. Her eyes are locked to the fuzzy hallucination of you with every step out of the bar.

The sight of the flags with the enforcers insignia threaded into the fabric is a brutal reminder of life without you present. 

“Enforcer… Fucking joke…” 

The thought alone puts a nauseating taste on her tongue. Do Top-Siders really think they can cast out their own people, only to return and take their pick of the litter? Despite all the inevitable disappointment their behavior elicits, Vi still finds herself in the same insufferable fits of rage with every action they take. Every damn day it seems they test her patience. Now, they’ve taken one step too far, from military stomps to an all-too aggressive, annoying intrusion.

Vi splats face-first into the firm plush of her mattress. Loris speaks, most likely a farewell, but the rampant ringing in her aching head fails to discern his words. The door closes with a clunky click and just like every other night, Vi is all alone. The air may be hollow and heavy, but her mind is alive with the softness she only touched once. 

“Y/N…” 

If it is true, if you are really out there somewhere and not just a pretty figment of a teenager's wild imagination, she cannot decide how to feel. She is at an odd juxtaposition between an ecstatic light and a lonely darkness. All those isolated nights, drunken ramblings, and savage bar fights — why weren’t you there to stop her again? All she has known her entire life is pain, why can’t you mend it the way you did all those years ago?

Even after all this buzzing noise, those words still echo in perfect precision. 

“You may have a good heart, but you must not let it blind you.” 

And to this day, she hasn’t a clue how this adheres to her life. 

‘Good heart’ this, ‘good heart’ that. It is what the most imperative figures in her life have told her. You, however, were different. You were a warning, a feather-touched glimpse into the brutality of her future. Swarming in like a steel crane, bludgeoning the walls she’s spent her entire life forging brick-by-brick.

A strangled gasp dances into the silence when the revelation hits. 

These walls have blinded her. That is why you are not here beside her! You must have attempted plenty of times, but the sheer girth of these walls has drowned out any call of her name. Vi was far-too engrossed in maintaining a tough, take-no-shit disposition and neglecting her need for gentler things. Neglecting her need for you, wherever you may reside beyond these thick layers. And this epiphany is shattering.

The Enforcer badge abandoned in the corner of the room calls out to her. A symbol of power and privilege, just beyond her touch. What was once something that churned her stomach by just a mere thought has now transformed into a golden, glimmering opportunity.

That navy-haired Commander, whatever her name was, seemed to know you extensively. Far more than Vi is comfortable with. Maybe if she bites her tongue and wears the badge, she’ll know just as much. Maybe if she leaves this pit, she'll know more than anyone ever has. Maybe if she crosses the bridge, she’ll obtain the proper resources to track down the love of her life.

Maybe, if she joins the Enforcers, she can leave the pigs a breadcrumb trail away from you. Then, just maybe, she can return some of that softness you gave her.

If one thing is abundantly clear, blue and gold are not Vi’s colors. 

That is a coherent understatement Vi is acutely aware of now, standing beside the Piltie’s who destroyed her life as their equal. Here, they utilize what they call ‘The Grey’ as a weapon against the people of the Under-City. Green puffs of poison perfusing from every possible angle, the place she has titled home is now reminiscent of a battlefield. 

Every building drowns in the gas, mere figments of shapes beneath its thick haze. ‘WANTED’ posters of this ‘Jinx’ character are engulfed in this matter, too. Respected members of the Chem-Barons are now left in languid messes of bodies, some dead while others gag and cling to life. The people of the underground deserve to breathe, until one of them is a bomb-wielding maniac. 

“We’ll begin in the Lanes then down to the Slums. Remember: if there is a clear shot, you may open fire, but it is I who will deliver the final blow. No matter Jinx or Y/N. Understood?” 

A series of “Yes, Commander”’s are mere squeaks against the booming authority of Caitlyn Kiramman. With a Hextech-powered gun in hand, she confidently guides several Enforcers through the quiet city.

Vi, amongst the several, feverishly scrutinizes through the green gas for even a prick of you. She is no longer blind; the mask has finally been torn from her face. As she concluded, it is surely only a matter of time before you come barreling out of the smog and into her embrace, there to never part again.

It is when their team passes an alleyway that her attention is garnered. 

The space is overwhelmed in green fog, but through the silent murk is a noise. It is a quiet sound, like skittering paws. Restrained coughing, almost. That sound is not foreign to the Under-City, an expanse overwhelmed with disease and infection. For reasons Vi cannot decipher, though, this is different. Familiar, she could further detail. 

The others have continued countless paces forward as she stands and studies the intricacies of the sound. Classic Topsiders leaving the Zaunite in their dust, once again. Vi does not take the rare moment of Enforcer eyes off of her for granted, however, and ventures into the alleyway. 

The sounds that once allured her have now been overwhelmed by her own rampant breaths, intensified within the barriers of her gas mask. Hope has consistently preceded betrayal over the course of her life, so she does not dare let your name touch her tongue. It still resides in her chest, however, where you have always lived. Calling out for you with every thundering beat of her heart.

When Vi rounds a corner, something juts out through the poisonous clouds. Anxiety thrashes inside of her, but she does not dare to halt her efforts now. When she takes a single step closer, her entire world plummets. 

Hidden behind an array of old barrels is no other than you. 

And just like that, the war is over.

Guns stretching into red-painted arrows mending broken hearts. Gunpoint threats overcome with strong declarations of devotion. Gunpowder residue building to form dust bunnies of a home well-loved. Gunshots easing to soft breaths of tranquility on a gloomy morning. Gunmen’s savage hands healing through bandages to fur-soft touches. 

Salvation has found its way directly to her doorstep, wrapped in pretty bows of purple and blue. The war is finally over and Vi can barely tolerate the rush of rapture now pumping through her bloodstream. 

You’re huddled into a ball, nearly nude and nothing short of terrified. Puffs of purple and blue spark from your palms in your effort of summoning your powers, but the sudden surge in strength from before has now run dry. Your attempts at shielding your coughing fit is futile, as well, evident in the second presence now towering over you. And it takes every fibre inside her to restrain herself from tackling you like some feral, emaciated animal. 

It is fate, purely. A few chapters late, albeit, but finally inked down in all of its beautiful, annihilating colors. You gifted her wisdom many years ago. Now, it is her turn to utilize her own wisdom to protect your precious life.

“Oh, Sweetheart…” 

Vi is swift in ridding herself of her gas mask to place it over your head instead. The relief in your expression is immediate when you are finally granted a gasp of clean air. 

It does not go unnoticed by Vi, either. She hadn’t realized she had placed a hand on your bare shoulder, but feeling your muscles ease beneath her touch has her releasing a shaky breath she wasn’t aware she was choking on. As though this was normal; as though neither of you had spent a single day apart from each other's side. Partners until the end of time, she muses, your paths and hands woven together with the universe’ needle and thread. 

Her lover. The thought alone sends a hot tickle up her spine. Lovers. 

Vi suppresses the gags induced by the gas in her elbow, while her other hand caresses the skin she has only dreamt of touching. Any turmoil hurled her way is now a cake-walk with your touch beneath hers. 

So engrossed in the whorls of you, in fact, it is only now does she take further notice of other fractions of your physicality. Some vibrant smudges are written on your forehead. “KISS ME, JINX!” is drawn in a blaring demand. Beneath the beautiful face, now covered in a thick mask, is an adornment around your neck. “Property of JINX!”, a warning threatening others off claimed territory.

It is a revolting collage of obsession, one that informs her without words how Jinx is the only threat present here. It could never be you, the pinnacle of tranquility. Too perfect to ever force harm. This Jinx, however, is a different story.

The memories then strike like cold water. 

Powder’s insistence of “the stranger” being taken alongside Vander, despite Vi’s assurances that they are nothing more than a fictional fantasy (a territorial motive on her end, she’ll admit). The relentless collision of blue magic that took the lives of almost everyone she held close. The quiet hope that somehow, you’d persevere through the wreckage and mend the impossible wounds.

Then, there was the red-hot rage ensnaring around her every action. Violent hands that swore to never touch family have done exactly so. “You’re a jinx!” erupting from her throat before she can measure the consequences. The enraged paces away, abandoning the only family she had left in ash. Stumbling upon the pit, where Loris took her under his wing. The place she has resided in for an entire decade.

“Please…” 

And then, there was you. The essence of her wistful dreams; the only light present to protect her from the monsters under her bed. Now, plunging your hands into her chest and claiming her soul as yours, once and for all.

“Do not hurt me…” 

You may as well have clutched her heart in the process, too. The thick, gooey chunks of the red organ stuffed beneath your fingernails.

Placing harm on you will never be a possibility. Like an ocean without water, a galaxy without stars, a pair of hands without touch. It is a prospect that simply does not exist. And it kills her that you think it does.

“You think I wanna hurt you, baby?” 

As though she were approaching a feeble, wounded animal, Vi slowly shuffles closer to where you sit. Her arm slithers around your shoulder, your touch igniting a flurry of goosebumps down her flesh. 

The puny strength your body conjured to plead for your life is soon snuffed out. Your heavy vision droops and you fall unconscious, coincidentally landing against the chest of Vi. And of course, in typical Vi fashion, her mind reaches the conclusion of you doing such from the comfort you find in her embrace. Not a second more is wasted before she is scooping you into her strong arms. 

“Sweet thing… Nothing’s gonna hurt you…” 

She presses a kiss to your temple. Electric, warm bolts tickle her lips upon contact. 

“’Never gonna let you out of my sight again…” 

Bringing herself to her feet, Vi adjusts your position in her arms and sets off into the night. Eager to embark on this new chapter where she indulges in the sweetest blessing she’s ever received.

The twists and churns of your stomach is what welcomes you when you first awaken. Voices dance in an echoing synchronization, impossible to discern in your weakened state. Specks of your vision return in short spurts which reveal nothing more than swaying purple lights through a maze of darkness. 

“Aww, shucks, birdie! Just can’t stay away, can’t ‘ya?” 

The familiar tones have you thrashing about in a new state of adrenaline-induced clarity. You frantically search for those blue braids you know too well, but find no sign of the criminal mastermind. What you do find, however, is another figure rushing to your side. 

“Easy, Sweets. Just you and me here.” 

Violet sits beside where you lay and her hands are on you in record speed. The Enforcer uniform she has draped around your form does not protect you from her greedy touch, with her caressing any fraction of you she can clutch in an attempt at comfort.

“What a mess you have become, child. What would your father think seeing you in such disarray?” 

The sudden perfusion of a voice you have not heard in centuries yanks a sob from your chest. It is met with even more loving affections from the persistent presence beside you. 

“Why did you abandon me…?”

Vi gapes at you in response. Tears prick at her eyes and her bottom lip begins to wobble — sensations that have become strangers over the past several years. She doesn’t grant herself a moment to even consider what this “abandonment” is before she’s adorning you in fervent reassurances. 

“I…” She stammers. “I would never leave you behind! You’re the only reason I’ve stayed in this fucked-up city in the first place. I promise you, sweetheart, I’m not blind anymore.” 

The intensifying ache in your stomach drowns out her remaining words. It is then you realize this sudden illness poisoning your body must be at fault for the excessive blood intake during your stay in Jinx’s lair. It is surely the reason behind such painful visions, too.

Rest is an imperative necessity now, but you will not ease until you have returned to the safety of your sanctuary. And you will certainly not rest in the arms of the girl you have not thought of once in an entire decade. 

You can’t even grasp how you are supposed to confess how the “blindness” you spoke of was in relation to her father, not yourself. On the rare instances you leave the expanse of your sanctuary, you reserve a fraction of time to help outside citizens. Young Violet amidst her Piltover heist were among those citizens. It is only now do you realize the consequences of your kind actions.

The hushed pitter-patter of boots outside are soon met with the intrusion of a smooth tone. 

“Retreating down to the Slums? Makes sense for someone of your kind.” 

Vi’s immediate acknowledgment and panic tell you this is not another cruel trick your brain is forcing onto you. She then parts from your side, concealing a half-broken bottle behind her back before she faces the unwelcome visitors. Her figure passing through the crooked threshold is the last thing you see before you doze off, once again.

“Does it matter? I’m following orders, Commander, am I not?” 

A stable lie has always come easy to Vi. This is a tool she swiftly abuses in the heat of the moment, a skill that is more imperative now than ever before.

“Without your badge, I see?” The Kiramman fires back. 

“Heh, this is the problem with you Topsiders. You only look at shit from a surface level. Never had to dig your hands in the dirt like the rest of us.” 

Caitlyn’s fingers tighten around the gun swung over her shoulder. 

“Is that so?” She further challenges. 

“’The fuck else would it mean?” 

The Commander allows a silence to settle, stalking the nervous tics and twitches within the newest Enforcer. Soon to be former, but Caitlyn doesn’t mind allowing this mutt to run around in circles. 

Always straight-faced, Commander Kiramman sends out her next demand. 

“Search the grounds.” 

The panic that ignites in Vi’s eyes is nothing short of delicious. If it weren’t for the purpose of maintaining her image, Caitlyn would allow herself to smile in response to the all-mighty pit fighter’s horror.

The bottle she successfully hidden then barrels through the air, puncturing into the skull of one of the several Enforcers. Their death came as quick as the bottle was thrown, landing on the ground with a harsh thump. 

A flurry of gunshots ensue, all of which Vi manages to dodge. All she has to defend herself is her fists, which has been the weapon she has used for as long as she has lived. With ease, she is able to disarm the surrounding Enforcers and beat them into bloody pulps. Never has Vi been one to bend over easily. And that is certainly the case now with her forearms drenched in warm blood, blue-and-gold dressed corpses littering her path.

However, there is one missing. Through the enraged chaos, Vi cannot find the Commander amongst the mess of bodies. With the door to her childhood home wide open, she feels her stomach cave into itself. She clumsily scrambles to her feet and rushes into the dilapidated building, eyes wide and crazed as she enters.

The Kiramman is nowhere to be seen, and horrifyingly so, neither are you. All that is left of you now is the Enforcer jacket she blanketed you in.

A roaring scream bruises Vi’s throat raw as she collapses to the dirt. Tears mend with the mess, seeping down her face like they never have before. There is no torture like being so close to having everything, then having it torn from your hands in the matter of seconds. That is a reality Vi will do anything to destroy.

Never in the thousands of years you have been alive did you ever consider the possibility of being arrested. 

One of the most powerful creatures in Runeterra has now been locked in a cage. You would laugh at the prospect alone if your body weren’t so weak. The stiff, cold surface of the cell bed you’ve been thrown upon does not aid this sickness, either. Neither does the boisterous complaints of other inmates and clanking metal bars. 

Despite the rampant pounding using your brain as its drum, you’re insistent on staying conscious. No matter how torturous reality may be. Soon, you assure, you’ll be back beneath the warm blankets of your sanctuary, a steaming bowl of soup and cup of tea greeting you first thing. This adventure will be nothing more than a silly story to tell your beloved villagers.

It is when you glance out of your cell do your thoughts come to a halt. 

Through the thick bars of the cell before yours, you find doe-like, honey-gold eyes staring at you in complete wonder. Her gaze is almost shielded beneath the messy mop of chestnut-brown locks atop her head. The fearful tears glimmering in the corner of those eyes prick at your heart, as well as the chubby cheeks already stained of her cries.

A little girl, in a place like this? What measures has Runeterra resorted to while you were sitting cozy in your palace? 

“Oh… Hello there, little one…” 

Your coo is quiet amongst the calamity of the prison, but the young girl latches to your words, nonetheless. 

“Would you like to see something magical, perhaps?” 

Her attention, already captured, is now thoroughly piqued as she eagerly nods her head. Her tiny fingers grasp the rusted metal of the cell bars, impatiently awaiting your next move. 

Normally, in a healthier state, you’ll entertain the children of your village by forging shapes from these clouds. From cranes and flowers to blimps and dinosaurs, it never fails to put them in a state of awe. With your stomach still swaying with blood, the best you can muster is a few fireworks that lazily dance from your palms.

Despite the (in your opinion) pathetic performance, the little girl brightens with excitement, her hands clasped around her cheeks in amazed shock. For the first time in weeks, just about, you smile with her. Raw and real, just the way it is back in your sanctuary.

Like clockwork, that happiness is robbed from you when a certain somebody makes their presence known. The sight of the little girl is blocked by the bulky figure of Vi, who stares down at you in your cell as though you were served as the main course at tonight’s feast. 

“Don’t get too excited, sugar.” She muses, tone slow and greedy. A timbre you know all too well. 

A few metal clanks and twists of her hand, the cell slides open and grants this lovesick monster full access to you. Her gaze is predatory as she locks the cell shut behind her, unblinking eyes never parting from yours. An evident fire burning inside her that not even the most violent of oceans could extinguish.

“You think that stupid Kiramman is gonna be enough to keep me away?” She laughs mockingly at the idea alone. “Took some pathetic groveling to get back here, but I have a few ideas of how you can make it up to me.”

You curl into yourself, knees pressed to your chest as though it could conceal you from the hungry mouth drooling to sink its sharp teeth into you. This effort is merely futile as Vi wastes no time in sitting down beside you, calloused hand beginning to massage the juts of your knee. 

“Violet…” 

A warmth blooms in her chest at the sound of you cooing her name; the only noise she’d ever want to hear first thing in the morning, replacing the hangover-buzz diluting the demands to prepare herself for another fight. 

“I worry for my people. Please, I insist! I must return home-!” 

A finger pressed to your lips and you’re silenced. 

The sly grin slithering onto her face is impossible to avoid, as well. Evidently giddy over the concept of having such control over you. You also do not fail to notice the way she subtly nudges that finger against her mouth. A sloppy indirect kiss, you presume. Even though he was such an ephemeral figure in your life, it might as well have been Viktor sitting beside you with such teenage-like antics. 

“You don’t need to worry about all that right now, sugar. No monster is gonna get you while I’m here.” 

A hand to your shoulder and you are swiftly tugged into her embrace, the same way a python ensnares itself against defenseless prey. Your body feels like that of a stranger when the action causes lethargy to perfuse through your whole body.

With your head on her chest, one thought remains persistent as you drift to sleep for the umpteenth time.

This is really getting irritating.

“Well… It all went to shit.” Jinx admits in defeat. “Didn’t it, Birdie?” 

The nightlife has now overwhelmed all of Zaun, but Jinx remains on the outskirts in complete isolation. She passes the countless posters adorning her face in favor of treading mindlessly. She has no intended path in particular. Anything to keep her moving; anything that will outrun the demons that lurk in her path. 

Her hair drags through the sand as she walks the edge of the lakeshore, feet bare to the jagged litter and broken glass shards. The water is frigid, to a painful degree, but she cannot find it within herself to pay any mind to the matter. Not with you gone, no. Nothing matters with you far from her side. 

Footsteps drum from behind her, but she does not dare to turn. She is perfectly aware of what prowls in the darkness. 

Mylo, in his state of a decomposed, neon-adorned apparition, breaks through the thick silence. 

“What did I say? Like always, you find a way to jinx everything. Jinx.” 

His teasing remarks do exactly as they intended: sink deep beneath her skin. Almost, she turns to snap back at his insult, but she manages to halt herself. After all, none of it is real, and surely you do not wish to date someone whose sanity is several blows away from shattering beyond repair. 

It is when Claggor joins the party does she nearly crack. 

“Did you really think they’d settle for someone like you? Come on, you knew it was a bad idea from the start.” 

Her nails dig into her hair, attempting to shield her ears from the rampant abuse. You wouldn’t settle, you’re not like that! No, you’d love her, you were so close to learning how to! It was those stupid Topsiders who rid two innocent lovebirds of that chance! And that scientist, that bones-y creep! Couldn’t get it up for you and had to snag you away for a round two! 

“Y/N, hoo! That’s a catch you don’t find too often. Don’t think it’s somethin’ you can hook, kid.” 

Vander’s thick accent seeps deep into her bones. Jinx’s clenched fists pound against her skull as she tries to stop the thoughts from rattling around. She has torn Zaun asunder trying to find you, it was those Piltie scums who sunk their hook into you! It was them! Their fault, not hers! 

Vi’s voice perfuses next. 

“Time to cut your losses, Pow-Pow. They’d do better with someone like me-” 

“Shut up!” 

A bullet pierces through the wind when Jinx whips around to blow her sister's brains out. When the silence settles, deep and lonely, she registers her sanity has finally received its final blow. Now, there is nothing but the chunks of her persistent failure that remain. She is a jinx and that fact prevails like it never has before.

A single step sinks into the wet sand of the beach’s shoreline. Another sinks deeper, then another, and another. Her frail body begins to shiver from the ice-cold contact, but still, she does not cease her efforts. 

Floating on her back, Jinx sways along with the gentle waves, a juxtaposition to the pandemonium within her mind. It is a strange peace the sensation earns her. Nothing reminiscent of your all-consuming tranquility, but the resemblance is puny, nonetheless. Serving as her only comfort through all of this noise. 

With the flap of her hands, she descends her body further into the waves. The water gladly consumes her whole, gleefully robbing her of any oxygen. It clutches at her lungs with no hope of ease and indulges in the thrashing fight. Through the chaotic wasteland of her mind, however, Jinx can only find you. 

Instead of the violent calamity she is so familiar with, the images stamped in her thoughts are inked in your happiness. Her eyes close and she revels in the picture-perfect scenery of what her life could have been. 

Vibrant paint splattered amongst each other, a playful fight in the midst of the renovation of yours and (now) Jinx’s palace. Toying with gadgetry and inventions, forging utensils to better the lives of your villagers (and maybe the bedroom, as well). Cheesy, romantic music perfusing from the gramophone as you both clasp onto each other in an intimate dance. Cherries-on-top present themselves through kisses on cheeks, flustered giggles, and warm nuzzles. The very definition of a perfect life, that is how Jinx would describe these fantasies. 

They continue to play as her lungs grow tighter and tighter and tighter. Though, there is no pain with your smile shining behind her eyes. 

Then, with one final gasp of your name, there is nothing.

Across the bridge, you’ve now found yourself in an irritating routine of succumbing to your body’s incessant need for rest. Asleep for years, it feels like, only to be granted mere minutes of energy. Every time you stir awake, without fail, Violet is the one you wake up against. How a prison guard has not raised the question of why one of their Enforcers is cuddling an inmate, you haven’t a single clue. 

What you do know is that she is currently in a deep slumber. Testing the waters, you lightly nudge the thick muscles of her arm. With no rousing in sight, you take advantage of her unconscious state and your sudden burst of energy.

With slowness that would put a snail to shame, you lift Vi’s arm from its permanent residence around your waist. Just before you can slither out of the new space for escape, that arm locks around your form, its sudden tightness forcing a gasp from your throat. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” 

Her leg is then brought into that equation, too, now latched around your hips. Nuzzling her face into the nape of your neck, you try to ignore the possessive affections and instead, measure the weight of your possible choices from here.

Simply walking out of this cell is not a clear option here. There is also the matter of being patient for your powers to return, but the waiting game is not something you wish to play. A repeat of what that blue-haired mastermind put you through is nothing short of a nightmare. With only one feasible option on the horizon, you take a deep breath of preparation. 

Evidently, this girl has a weakness. And that very weakness is heavy-eyed and lethargic, locked in this prison cell. Weaponizing this could result in your escape, sure, but it could also lead you into a… Sticky situation, if you will. Even if you read thousands of books on the skill of romance, you would still be oblivious in any effort to navigate that world. In the centuries of your life, you have never cared for such, either. 

The people within your village have always been of utmost importance. Tending to them has been the path you have happily tread down for years. Never a kiss, never an embrace, never even holding hands with a special someone — your interest in these pursuits has never been piqued. 

Sure, Viktor and Jinx are not the first to piece together your runes and find their way to your sanctuary, greeting you with lovelorn declarations of devotion that would take the trophies of the most talented of poets. None of their romantic pursuits ever compelled you to indulge them, though. Until the feelings are mutual will you ever consider the choice.

With that being said, this does happen to be the first time their reverence has pushed you and your magic outside of your sanctuary. Locked tight in a prison cell, no less.

From here, you bite the bullet and put on your best award-winning performance. 

Before Vi’s grasp can tighten once more, you swiftly slip out of her greedy hold. She reaches for you like a child parting from their teddy-bear, but another demand of your return gets lodged in her throat when you straddle her.

Fake smile plastered on your face, you take her face into your hands and simply stare. A few well-measured caresses of your thumbs and she’s entirely at your will, evident in the exasperated breaths and powder-grey eyes sparkling like a puppy-dog with a juicy bone. Vi’s hands clutch around your thigh, jagged nails digging into the flesh as a desperate means to not let them travel further. This attempt at self-control is weak, however.

“Fuck. C’mere-” 

Her lips just barely graze yours before you interrupt her intentions. 

“I was so frightened before. Not a soul could fathom the weight of my fears.” 

Paired with a gentle pout and nervous tone, any disappointment surrounding not having your lips on hers is replaced with genuine, unbreakable interest. 

“Jinx was so, so cruel, Violet.” 

The name of her sister should never sit on your tongue, only hers. It causes her to tense beneath you, a stirring pit of rage forming from the frail tones in your voice. The sight of tears building in your eyes does not assuage these feelings, either. No, it adds even more fuel to the fire.

“Even my cries were not enough to stop her vicious hands. Extraordinary violence, she always treated me with.” 

It is faux innocence; a sloppy attempt, at best. Still, your efforts work marvelously with the anger you’ve managed to ignite. The fact she has not thrown you back onto the cell bed, stormed out of the prison, and returned with a pair of blue braids on a silver platter is nothing short of a miracle. 

“You…” 

Your finger traces the jut of her collarbone, eliciting a chill with every centimeter your nail treads.

“You are simply different. A softness I did not deem myself worthy of, crashing into my world like the catalyst you are.”

Accentuated with laughter, Vi falls even deeper into your magic spell. It is only now do you realize a mere caress would have done enough damage, why hadn’t you utilized this skill sooner? You did not expect such antics to work so obnoxiously well. So much so, you fear you may have abused this tool a pace too far.

“Let me make you feel good, ‘Sug. ‘Promise it’ll be nothing you’ve ever felt before.” 

Her arm then ensnares around your waist once again, the other clasping your jaw to prevent another escape. The gasp it pulls from you is misinterpreted as something sensual, of which she gobbles right up. 

“Tastes like candy, I bet.” 

Vi’s lips find your neck before you can merely react to the sudden movement. Lapping and sucking onto any stretch of skin she can claim — a heaven she has only dreamt of clutching. 

You twitch uncomfortably from the affection, which she, once again, mistakes as an act of passion. If her mouth weren’t occupied with the best meal she’s ever tasted, she’d reassure you of how there is no need to rut against her for more of her touch. If she were to speak of such, your act may falter from the disgusting insinuations behind the filthy words. 

“Violet…” 

Your attempt at grasping her attention is perceived as one of pleasure, evident in the satisfied groan it pulls from her. Brows curling upwards and all. 

“Allow me to kiss you. Please.” 

The words are so foreign, they feel equivalent to vomit crawling from your mouth. Anything to remove this blood-hungry vampire from your innocent neck. 

Vi obliges in an almost whiplash-inducing speed and her eyes flutter shut as she leans in. With a prayer to no one, you enact on a power you did not ever believe you’d wield in such circumstances. 

Two fingers pressed to her closed eyes, you whisper your next action. 

“Sleep…” 

And just like that, it was like the humiliating scene had never occurred in the first place. Violet is out like a light, sinking down onto the concrete-surfaced prison bed. This mechanism has only been explored in more light-hearted scenarios. It was normally exercised to lull fussy babies. Now, it is used to pacify the animalistic exertions of this dark-haired street fighter.

With your weakened state, you cannot accurately anticipate how long Violet will be asleep for, nor can you measure how much time is left before you’re forced into a state of unconsciousness, once again. You yank the dangling keys from Violet’s hip and fiddle with them clumsily, before the correct one finally unlocks your cell with a click. Centuries spent applying your powers to any barrier makes for an awkward runaway, you surmise.

Scanning the long aisle of cells for any lingering guards, you dash to the cell directly before yours. Another graceless scrambling of clanking keys ensues before you finally hear that melodious click. Upon entering, frantic and horrified that you had possibly let a child witness such a fiasco, you release a pent-up sigh of relief when you find her fast asleep. And, most imperatively, safe. 

With another paranoid glance over your shoulder, you bend to her level at the edge of the prison bed. You inspect the skin not covered in rugged scraps for any wounds, of which you thankfully find none. The people beneath this roof are prone to aggressive violence. Forcing such hands onto a child is an act you deem unforgivable, and frankly, impossible to understand. It is an overwhelming gratitude you are met with when you find they spared the girl of such. 

The adorable coos of gentle snores almost prompt a spike of guilt in you, but you insist on nudging her awake before this rare window closes.

Golden eyes peer around in confusion as she rouses from her sleep. Upon discerning the sight of you, the girl practically throws herself into your arms. You stumble back upon the surprising act, but do not hesitate in returning the affection. What kind of monster would deny a child the necessity of comfort, after all? The heart-shattering cries muffled into your shoulder only strengthen this belief furthermore.

“Oh, Rabbit… I will not let them harm us. I promise you.” 

When she retreats from your hold, you clasp her face in your hand and stroke her chubby face.

“I know of a place I am positive you’ll adore. Somewhere you will never be hurt again.” 

Her eyes are hopeful as they stare into yours, sobs having eased to hiccuping sniffles. A smile, just a hint of one, stretches on her scarred lips.

Shifting your gaze a little to the left, you find a rusted helmet with cracked goggles had been left underneath the bed. Possibly belonging to an old miner, it appears. You place the hat atop her messy locks, pretending you were crowning royalty. 

“You will need your best armor, soldier. Only the strongest can embark on such a journey.” 

That earns you a giggle, of which you revel in the success of. 

“Remind me, soldier, what is your name?” 

The girl seems to consider your question thoroughly, measuring how exactly she should inform you of such. Several motions of her hand spell out her name in sign language, of which you read in perfect coherence. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Isha.”

Meanwhile, Violet remains limp in the neighboring cell. A peaceful, blissful slumber that is oblivious to what is happening just several feet away. And in this slumber is where she revels in the exhilaration of a love she’ll cling to for the remainder of her days.

Like the triumph of a curtain call, Violet’s dreams have come true: to feel the touch of gentle warmth. After an entire lifetime, she is finally soft. Here, beneath the light of you, everything melts. 

Now, her dreams have shifted. Violet will keep a tight clasp on this feather-touch. 

No matter what it takes.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ YOU REALLY GOT A HOLD ON ME,

SO THIS ISN'T JUST PUPPY LOVE . . . ❞

gif creds.

tag list: @honey-beeuwu @mrprettycom @makangelo @thelonelyme @solavily @eldritch-bunny @decaffeinatedclodbagelweasel @orbitingmarswithp @frickidyfrog @phantomdomi @mermaidm0tel6 @numbu5 @applepinsss @anon34570 @biohazardousbunny @vogelaqwry @lorely788 @mellowangeltree @myathegoat @alix-37 @lavandercinnamon @vrnicky @mellowfishauthoreggs

[letsbangts]

thank you || jjk

⤷ summary: when you express your appreciation for the man you married

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 1.4k

⟶ genre: fluff, married couple au, established relationship au

⟶ content: husband!jk, fratboy!jk briefly mentioned, sweetheart kook that could cause cavities

⟶ warnings: none just pure fluff

↬ a/n: so this is inspired by you may want to marry my husband. hope you enjoy! :) as always hope you enjoy & let me know what you think! angel xoxo

masterlist

I have been married to the most extraordinary man for four years. I am planning on many more (a plan that has been in effect since our first date seven years ago and will continue to be). And for that, I feel I should express my gratitude.

Thank you. 

Honestly, I do not know what I am thankful for, for everything, I guess? For him always being there, for him staying by my side. For loving and treating me exactly how I have always wanted a man to. 

Now, you may wonder who this gentleman is, and I am so happy to tell you, Jeon Jungkook.

He was an easy man to fall in love with. I did it in one day.

Let us take a trip down memory lane, shall we? Seven years ago, a young lady struggling with dealing with college and her part-time job gets dragged out by her best friend (I guess I should be thanking her too) attends a year-end party at a frat house one late evening. About an hour later, she bumps into a boy who spills his drink on himself, though all he can do is say to her with the brightest smile: You okay there, Clumsy?

And when she looks up at his face, she realizes that this is no douche frat boy with beer on his shirt, but an unbelievably attractive high-spirited young man. She shyly replies: Yeah, I'm okay. That is when what was supposed to be quick party banter with a stranger turned into a night of great conversation and a polite walk home. That then turned into sweet exchanges of subtle flirtatious texts and small phone calls that had this young lady thinking: Uh-oh, there is something loveable about this person.

As the couple enjoyed many hangouts during the beginning of summer (by the end of the summer, I knew I wanted to marry him) amidst the ever-growing flirting, they finally acknowledged their immense attraction. Then the hangouts turn into dates when that lovely young man finally asks her out. That is when they would have officially kicked off their step from subtle flirting to very blatant obvious flirting—the beginning of a couple that would only continue their journey together.

So that was the start of us.

I am a bit biased, but I will create a list based on my experience of coexisting with him for about 2,556 days on the reasons I am thankful for him and thus love him. The following list of attributes is in no particular order because everything about him is so important to me.

Starting with the basics: His blindingly contagious smile, his gorgeous body filled with pure joy and positivity (and muscle), his adorable fluffy hair that falls over his forehead to match his striking brown eyes, and his effortlessly breathtaking passionate singing, of course.

He always knows how I am feeling and how to match his mood to whatever one I am in. He can read my face with just a simple glance. I have always appreciated how he adjusts his mood to fit my own. If I am in the dumps and his spirits are up, he brings them down to comfort me; even if he is down in the dumps, he lifts his spirits to keep a smile on my face. And for that:

Thank you.

If I could list just one of the things that made me fall in love with him from day one and still makes my heart flutter to this day, it would be his little acts that are natural for him, which shows how much of a gentleman he is. From always opening doors for me, making sure I walk on the inner side of the sidewalk, giving me his jacket to wear, or carrying me into the bed when I fall asleep on the couch. He may not know how much I appreciate the little things, but those little things always remind me I sincerely have the best man out there. 

Silently suffering with the things I put him through that he may not want to do. Sitting through the cliché chick flicks, trailing behind me in the store as I look at three different tops that he says all look great on me but always end up picking the one he can tell I want more, or even giving up his personal space and all feeling in his right arm because he knows I sleep much better entangled with him.

That brings me to something he may not know that I know about him. He holds in a lot more than he leads on. The song he tells me he is struggling to perfect but tells me it is only a little bit of writer's block. Yet I can see in his eyes that it stresses him much more than he says. Yet he is always quick to change topics with a:

How could you have gotten prettier while I was gone?

Or

So tell me about your day. Did anything interesting happen today?

If I did not know him so well, I could have easily missed these things, but I have come to learn about the kind of person he is. He is the type of person who always puts others before himself. He leads himself to take on the role of making sure others around him are okay. He already knows he does not have to hide his worries from me, but Jungkook still always tries to keep the minor worries to himself because he believes they are things I will excessively stress over on his behalf. (and he is right, I would, what can I say I love the guy)

We have come to know each other so well over the years, huh?

When looking for a dreamy, last-minute adventure, he is my man. He always comes with me on random just-cause trips, be it a road trip to the countryside for a break from the city or a train ride to the sea to walk by the shore.

Thank you.

If it is still unclear, here is the kind of man Jeon Jungkook is: He surprised me on my first day at my new job with flowers because he knew how nervous I was. He is a man who is always up early and goes out to surprise me every Sunday morning by putting a different kind of flower on my nightstand with a love note. A man that comes out from the minimart or gas station and says: Hold out your hand. And, voilà, a plastic ring he got from a gumball machine (had that been his proposal, my answer would have been yes).

I am sure you understand what I am trying to say by now, and he already knows how crazy I am about him. Wait! Did I mention that he is incredibly handsome? I will never get tired of looking at his handsome face.

If I am making him sound like a prince and our relationship sounds like a fairy tale, that is not too far off. I consider his proposal one for the books: Ever since you stumbled into my life, quite literally. I have never been able to picture being without you. Will you marry me, Clumsy?

Jungkook, I was serious about what I told you in our vows:

I always want more time with you, Jungkook. I want more time with the guy who takes me to get ice cream in the winter. I want more time sipping beer in bed with my drinking buddy. Although I desire our time together to be endless, we cannot live forever. But as long as I am alive, as long as I am a person on this planet, I will continue to follow you wherever the road takes us. So let us walk it together, alright?

Your dependability and loyalty are the qualities that show you are the most extraordinary husband, the most extraordinary man, and will be the most remarkable father one day. I know you will lead our future family into a lifetime of happiness because that is where you have been leading mine for seven years. I know you will continue to do so.

I will wrap this up because I can go on and on about how you are the most genuine, non-self-oriented gift I could have received. So, thank you for being you. I hope for the day that I get to tell our children about the kind of man their father is, the man Jeon Jungkook is, and about the love story I am honoured to be a part of.

(P.S. That day I mentioned will be coming in approximately nine months!)

With all my love, Clumsy xo

[neuvistar]

❝ MY STAR, MY DAUGHTER. ❞ signed: boothill . wc. 791

— featuring ┊boothill x fem!reader

— warnings / content warnings ┊sfw (lil bit of angst if u squint) . major spoilers abt boothill’s story. girldad boothill girldad boothill!!, established relationships (marriage), mentions of pregnancy, just pure fluffiness which hurts my heart | special tags . @rinneverse @mewnbuns

— a/n ┊this is VERRRRYYYY short n somehow took quite a bit bc readers block was eating my ass but i like how this turned out :3 if i see one more tt abt boothill’s silly (not so silly) backstory i will sob uncontrollably :,)

this was a blessing from the aeons themselves.

you were pregnant, with a daughter.. his kid, his flesh and blood. boothill closed his eyes, fingers gently stroking your belly in slow, comforting circles. you could feel his chest heaving softly, his breaths growing deeper and more laboured, signaling his fading consciousness. your husband’s arm loosened, draping over your belly and chest. “.. baby, thank you for this gift. son of a nice lady, yer fudgin’ strong for carryin’ our baby girl inside of ya.”

boothill was beyond excited, your husband couldn’t believe it.. after all these years, he couldn't shake the feeling of gratitude; he was creating a family, a future together with you, a future he could’ve had with his first daughter he had lost and grieved for years. in his eyes, this was his blessing, his second shot at being a father. your heart ached for your husband. you knew about his past and experiences, he told you many times already.. a story you can’t help hold dear to your heart. for boothill, the little baby girl he lost on that fateful day.. was the day he lost everything. the pain of her absence was immense and left a void that no amount of time could heal, sending him in a spiral of grief that engulfed him wholly.

but yet.. when he heard the news of your pregnancy a few months ago, boothill felt that little spark of light erupt once more with pure joy.. the glow he lost many years ago, returned with a new sense of hope, a new sense of hope for the future he’s always wanted. the joy and excitement he felt was a welcome reprieve from the grief that had consumed his soul for so long, overcoming his deepest regrets. he couldn’t wait for this little rascal to grow, experience the beauty of life herself, explore the world around her with curiosity and wonder.. teaching her about all the things he knew. maybe even tell her about the older sister she could’ve had. boothill wanted to see her smile, dress her up in pretty little princess dresses, help her walk her first steps, he wanted to experience and see it all. all he wanted was to see his daughter grow in-front of his eyes, something he had failed to see with his first.

to boothill, his flesh and blood forming inside of you was his second chance at fatherhood. he promised himself he’d pour all his love and energy into raising the baby with you, seeking a renewed sense of purpose and meaning of a father’s love. “i can’t wait for our little girl to grow up, baby.. m’ gonna be the best daddy ever, i’ll tell ya that.”

“you already are, hun. you already are.”

“heh.. rely on me from now on, ‘kay? ‘gonna protect you and her.” your husband leaned in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before moving to brush his lips against yours, tenderly.. his thumb forming gentle circles on your belly. “always darlin, always.” boothill smiled crookedly, a tear glistening in the corner of his eye. the cyborg leaned in, his forehead still touching yours as spoke softly.. his words destined for the bundle of joy growing within you. "little one," boothill whispered, his voice filled with love. " mommy and i have been talking. both so fudgin’ excited to meet ya. princess, we’ve been workin’ hard to make sure that when ya join us, you'll have everythin’ ya need. ‘going to shower you with love ‘n affection.. promise to be there for ya, to teach ya and guide ya. mama and daddy’re a team, ‘n we'll be the best parents we can be, just for you,”

your husband paused for a moment, allowing the love in his words to resonate before continuing. ".. ‘can't wait t’hear your first cry, ‘feel ya in my arms, kiss your forehead. mama and i love ya more than anythin’ else in this world. so.. for now, jus’ keep growin’ healthy and strong, okay?"

boothill reached over, taking your hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. your husband gazed back up at you, offering you a small smile as he spoke to the little girl, puckering his lips to leave a gentle peck to your belly. “heh.. jus’ so ya know, s’ your daddy, babygirl. can’t wait t’squeeze those chubby cheeks, roll you up in a marshmallow usin’ daddy’s good-old red scarf.. i can’t wait t’love ya. love ya as much as the universe. y’know why, darlin’?” he paused, nuzzling his nose against the warmth of your belly, “because you’re my star, sweetie. the star that lit up mommy and daddy’s life,”

“my star, my daughter.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I’VE ALWAYS LOVED THE WAY YOU EAT ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; suguru is a morning person. he likes the serenity of it all; the quiet of the early hours, the expensive feel of his coffee pot. more than anything, he likes bringing you breakfast in bed.

word count; 4.9k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, just comfy morning vibes, fluff fluff fluff!!, suguru being a good soon-to-be husband, lots of petnames, reader is whipped (and so am i) but suguru is even worse, i need him biblically.

a/n; this is my personal essay on why suguru geto is the perfect man and wife. bon appetit !!

something smells good.

as your eyelids flutter open, and you gradually slip out of sleep’s fuzzy embrace, you are engulfed by that one thought. that one sensation.

there’s a sweet fragrance in the air, an unnamed something you can’t place. a force of love.

soft sunrays flit in through the haphazardly closed window blinds of your bedroom, cascading across the floorboards and bouncing off the walls. splotches of sunshine envelop you in a hazy kind of glow; gentle and coaxing, stirring you awake. it feels good on your skin.

indulging in a few more slow blinks, you shift to lie on your back, halfheartedly attempting to chase the sleepiness away. tangled up in silken sheets and fluffy blankets, you stare at the ceiling — but even such a mundane task feels so nice. just wallowing in the tantalizing scent drifting through the bedroom, the flurry of little kisses that the sun smothers you with. 

it’s still early, and you’re still sleepy. outside the walls of your apartment, the sun is rising to its feet, dyeing the world in warm colours; violets and blues melting into pinks and oranges, like an egg cracked open on the canvas of the sky. everything is quiet, not a sound to be heard except for the very distant chirping of cicadas from the trees outside your window. utter peace. like time isn’t even passing.

in the midst of such a precious moment, all you want is to laze around. it’s just that kind of pleasant, mellow morning; the kind that makes you wish the sun would never fully rise.

a satisfied little sigh slips from your lips. content to soak in the heavenly feeling until it passes, your eyes flutter shut — you’re just so sleepy, and the sun just feels so warm. soothing you, making it even harder to stay awake, cradling you in its hazy embrace. sunlit and saccharine.

with the morning fatigue clouding your senses, you don’t even notice the other presence in the room. 

suguru smiles, from his spot by the door — leaning against the wall and gazing at your relaxed expression, an immense fondness reflected in his eyes. taking a moment to silently admire you.

you look so content. tangled up in blankets and pillows, with your limbs outstretched and starfished across the mattress. your hair is a little messy, and you’re drooling just a smidge, wearing his shirt; it’s a couple sizes too big for you, slipping off your shoulder and exposing your sunkissed skin. as suguru’s eyes trail over your features, the fond smile on his face only grows, shifting into something honeyed and giddy. 

you’re perfect, he thinks. absolutely perfect.

a moment passes. then another. suguru continues to stare, as if trying to etch the image of you into his memory. trying to prolong the moment for as long as he can. 

until, finally, he’s had his fill. simply admiring you from afar isn’t enough — he needs to see you up close, needs to hear the sleepy little tilt of your voice. so he opts to make his presence known, voice gravelly and sweet, echoing softly throughout the room.

“good morning, sweetheart.”

softly, your eyes flicker open. the familiar voice sends a tremor of something running through your chest — and suddenly, it feels as if some of the sleep clinging to your skin has been washed away. it’s a little easier to make yourself move, shifting to your side to get a better look at the source of the sound.

and the warmth that blossoms in your chest when your eyes meet suguru’s is almost overwhelming.

(god, he’s pretty.)

suguru looks perfect, in the morning. he looks like the rest of your life. hair a little messy, tied up into a lazy half-done bun, silky black strands cascading down his neck. and wearing a pair of comfy sweatpants that hang a little low on his hips, but no shirt — showing off the curve of his tiny waist, the slight twitch of his arms when he indulges in an idle stretch. 

you try to restrain yourself from ogling his bare chest and arms too much, but it’s tough. frighteningly so. with the sunlight embracing his skin, muscles on full display, he looks a bit like a sculpture. a little too good to be real.

but he is. and he’s yours. and he’s smirking at you, lazily, affectionately — eyes half-lidded as he balances the tray that’s making the room smell so sweet. just standing there, looking so unfairly gorgeous. waiting for you to muster up the energy to respond to his greeting, more than happy to watch the way your eyes soften as they trail across his features in the meantime.

“morning,” is all you can rasp, eyes closing as your cheek sinks deeper into the mattress. a bit too tired to talk to him properly, and a bit too unguarded to look at him without feeling as if your heart is about to leap out of your throat. 

he’s a little too pretty, like this. framed by the hazy sunshine, like something out of a dream. all soft clouds and gentle caresses, the scent of dried lavender, the pitter patter of rain against a windowsill. all things kind and comforting. 

you’re afraid that your heart might give out, if you look at him for too long.

suguru doesn’t seem to mind. he only chuckles, voice deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine. his lips quirk up into a smooth kind of smile, and he’s quick to make his way to your side; crouching down to meet you at eye level after placing the tray on the nightstand.

a hand comes to caress your cheek. the rough pads of his fingers smooth down your jaw, gentle and doting, as if coaxing you out of hiding. as if you’re made of porcelain. suguru always treats you like you’re fragile, like you’re the most precious thing he has.

(because you are, he thinks. more precious than the expensive vanilla extract he used to make the waffles on the tray, more precious than the diamond-clad ring he’s hidden away in a drawer of the guest room. more precious than anything this world has to offer.)

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you nuzzle into his palm. suguru leans forward to smear a kiss against your forehead, overcome with fondness; warm lips lingering on your skin.

the sensation strikes you as just a little heavenly. his touch is so tender, every caress so full of love. instinctual, the way his love bleeds into his touch, trickles down his veins to the tips of his fingers — smoothing along your skin. such a heavy thing, but he just makes it feel so light. 

“still sleepy?” he hums, a little teasing. eyes crinkling, voice bordering on a coo.

and it’s infuriating. the amusement that flickers through his eyes, the way you can tell he’s itching to tease you for being so groggy and tired.

between the two of you, suguru’s always been the one to get out of bed first, to your grave annoyance. and he’s so smug about it. you want to tell him that waking up so early on a saturday isn’t normal, that he’s the weird one for not being sleepy — 

but when he’s cupping your cheek so gently, all you manage is a meek little murmur of mm. one that has suguru stifling a coo, lips curling up into an adoring smile. 

look at you. his sleepy little baby, dyed in sunrays and tiny specks of dust. so effortlessly pretty, tangled up in fluffy blankets, an image so precious he almost feels like he shouldn’t be looking at it. yet he continues to do so, mesmerized.

(suguru doesn’t mind being a little greedy, when it comes to you.)

“i made you breakfast,” he continues, as you melt into his touch. an absentminded action, but almost brimming with trust; the trust you have in him to treat you well. one he’ll always, always affirm. “your favorite. wanna eat with me?”

breakfast.

something in your brain visibly reacts to the sound of the word, shooing away a little of the morning fatigue still clouding your senses. before you know it, you’ve forced yourself into a sitting position, with groggy movements and a soft groan. rubbing the skin beneath your eyes and kicking the blanket off your legs, a little clumsily.

suguru breathes out a soft bout of laughter, low and amused, as you lazily stretch and indulge in slow blinks. his hand goes to ruffle your hair, and all you do is lean into it.

“i’ll take that as a yes,” he teases, eyes full of fondness. you crack a sleepy smile at his amused tone of voice.

suguru’s hands are big, and a little rough, but still so very soft. you could spend hours tracing them — from the tips of his fingers down to the veins of his wrist, across his knuckles littered with small scratches and barely visible scars. stories of his childhood, that he loves telling you about, almost as much as you love hearing them.

you love his hands. they’re so pretty. so warm and grounding, as they smooth down your hair, unmistakably caring. the weight of them is a comfort, as his fingers card through your bedhead, scratching softly at your scalp. a sensation that makes you feel all fuzzy inside.

suguru is just so good to you.

and you’re only further reminded of that fact when your gaze trails over to the assortment of breakfast foods he’s prepared, neatly stacked on the nightstand. all your favorites, made with so much love; and it’s so evident, even just in the presentation. the freshness of the strawberry slices, the perfect amount of syrup spread over the waffles. the cup of coffee made just the way you like it.

maybe it’s the morning fatigue, or just the softness of the moment. the intimacy, so palpable you can almost reach out and touch it. or maybe it’s something else entirely — whatever the cause, you feel your eyes get somewhat glassy. 

a meek little sniffle leaves your lips, and it catches even you off guard.

suguru blinks. suddenly alert, his morning-fatigued brain trying to comprehend the sight of your teary eyes. brain spinning in circles, not sure if it should be telling him to panic just yet. something in him constricts, twists and turns, a desperate kind of yearning to protect you.

but before he can even reach out to wipe away the wetness with his thumb, you’ve latched yourself onto him.

arms snug around his waist, face tucked under his chin. fitting into him like a puzzle piece. breathing in the remnants of the cologne on his neck; a nice bergamot mix that you like, so he sprays on a little extra just for you. so close to him that you can feel the patter of his heart against you, as you soak in his body warmth. 

and his arms find their way around your form just as naturally, without him even having to think. like every bone in his body was born with a desire to cradle you close. like he was crafted in the image of someone made to soothe you. 

being in suguru’s arms is pure bliss. the most grounding sensation you know, one that never fails to calm you down, no matter how stressed or anxious you’re feeling. with his broad chest and strong arms, his bergamot-scented skin. so doting, pressing little kisses to your shoulder, trying to console you. his hair tickles your cheek a little, but it’s comforting.

”what’s wrong, honey?” he questions, voice set on a low, particularly soothing lilt. coaxing, almost cooing — a tone that buzzes with safety. his big hands go to rest on your head and back, smoothing down your spine.

”nothing,” you sniffle. feeling a little silly. ”you’re just too perfect. ‘s not fair.”

a pause. 

then, a chuckle bubbles up from suguru’s throat. something fond and delightful unfurls in his chest, a kind of relief; a feather-light amusement.

(you’re so ridiculous, he thinks.)

but you only nuzzle further into his neck, all sleepy and affectionate — and it stirs his heartstrings in a way that makes him feel rather helpless. crumbling beneath your touch. gazing at you with soft eyes, a happy little hum buzzing in his throat.

he takes you in, in all your clingy glory; so impossibly sweet. maybe he should have sprinkled some sugar on the strawberry slices, just to see if the taste could ever measure up.

”ah, is that so?” he drawls, a lazy amusement flickering through his eyes. playful. ”i’m sorry, baby. i should be the one saying that to you, though.”

but you just shake your head, arms tightening around his midriff. as if offended that he’d have the audacity to brush off your objectively correct statement, to even think to deny how perfect he is. 

and suguru raises a brow at you, in tandem, a mild protest resting on the tip of his tongue — offended at your blatant disrespect, shaking your head at his factually correct words, as if disagreeing with your own evident perfection. 

but before he can even begin to fight you on the topic, you part your lips to speak.

”thanks for breakfast, sugu,” you sleepily murmur, biting back a yawn. still a little meek, but oh so loving. ”i would die for you.”

he stills, once more. then another soft bout of laughter escapes his lungs, rumbling through his chest like a soothing thunderstorm. it makes you feel so terribly safe.

“there’s no need for that,” he assures you. ”don’t you wanna eat instead?”

to his surprise, he’s met with another soft shake of your head. so snug in his embrace that you could practically live there, only clinging to him a little tighter with a huff.

”just wanna hug you first…” you yawn, arms squeezing at his waist affectionately. shifting in his hold until your lips find their way to his neck.

”i love you,” you mumble, kissing down his jaw and collarbone. sleepy, open mouthed pecks, trailing over the expanse of his pretty skin. ”so much.”

it tickles, a little. suguru digs his teeth into his cheek, ever so slightly, just to hold back the giggle that threatens to break out from his throat.

and it’s maybe just a little too sweet, the sensation that blossoms in his chest, something honeyed and flowery; fluttering deep within his ribcage, like a dragonfly buzzing and trying to break free. it gets him a little weak in the knees.

to distract himself from the voice in his head urging him to go get the ring in the guest room drawer right this instant, suguru scoops you up. cradling you close, as he plops down on the mattress, legs crossed to give you space on his lap.

you don’t protest, only snuggling a little closer — as if yearning to tuck yourself away within his ribcage. 

and suguru chuckles, the deep tremor of his voice reverberating through his chest, echoing in your head as you listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart. rubbing your back with a teasing smile, pressing a kiss against the crown of your head.

“i should make breakfast more often if it’ll get you like this,” he grins, basking in the warmth of your body against his. 

a little whine falls from your lips. muffled into the curve of his shoulder, against his bare skin. “it’s not about the breakfast,” you pout, looping your arms around his neck. “it’s everything you do…”

a heat rises to your cheeks, a little embarrassed at the sappiness you’re exuding. but the sun feels so nice on your skin, and the bedroom smells so good, and the whole world feels so kind. 

inhaling the fragrance of bergamot and coffee, you can only fall apart at the intimacy of the moment. 

“i’m really grateful…” you murmur, resting your lips against his skin. buzzing with a warmth that has him shuddering. “‘m just bad at expressing it.”

suguru’s eyes soften. melting into a tender hue, like that of a creamsicle sunrise sky. a dreamy look smoothes over his features, and a fond hum buzzes in his throat.

“nah, you’re fine,” he drawls, squeezing at your hips affectionately. pulling away ever so slightly, just to plant a kiss on your forehead, brushing your bangs away with a certain bleeding tenderness. “you don’t need to say it out loud. i know, anyway.”

and he does. suguru understands you better than anyone; a point of immense pride, for him. knowing you so deeply that he can practically hear your thoughts before you speak them, knowing what you need at a single glance. just from a certain furrow of your brows, or the slight tilt of a smile you’re trying to hide. 

always one step ahead, folding your laundry on days you’re feeling particularly stressed out, or giving your hand a comforting squeeze when he notices that you’re nervous. always so attentive. it’s a little overwhelming, but also so comforting — to be so thoroughly understood.

his eyes are warm. full of pure affection, a devotion so heavy it makes your heart stutter in your chest. all you can do is glance down, shyly, slumping your forehead against his bare chest. 

your voice comes out a little strangled, still raspy. a little wobbly in the wake of your adoration.

“i wanna appreciate you…” is muffled against his skin, your lips curled down into a soft pout. and suguru breathes out a flustered little breath, amused — somewhat delighted.

“you can appreciate me by eating a hearty breakfast,” he suggests, a teasing tilt to his husky voice. cradling you just a little closer, as if even the miniscule distance between you is unbearable. as if he needs your hearts pressed together to keep himself intact. “how about that, hm? or would you rather give me a kiss?”

a moment passes, and a sleepy hum slips from your tongue. he feels your lips touch the soft skin of his neck, once more; then you muster up the strength to pull back from his embrace, slumping against his shoulder with your back against the headboard. it takes concentrated effort.

and suguru chuckles, again. odd, how a man who’s normally so put-together can’t seem to ever hide his joy whenever you’re around. but suguru is just a little too weak for you — he can’t help but let you strum his heartstrings along, however you want. any kind of melody you desire.

(it just so happens that no melody sounds prettier than a joyous one, when it’s falling from his lips.)

a lovesick smile painted on his face, suguru watches as you finally dig in. and he thinks it’s precious, the strawberry juice smearing your lips, the contentment in your features as your eyelids flutter shut. a mellow kind of pride swells in his chest with every satisfied hum that you grace him with, every giddy declaration of how delicious it all is. 

there’s something about it he can’t quite explain, can’t put his finger on. something almost otherworldly, in how fulfilled it makes him feel, like he’s lived his entire life just for this moment. just for the sake of making you breakfast and watching you wolf it all down.

suguru doesn’t think there's a single better way to show his love for you than this; cooking for you, putting every last drop of his love into everything he makes. from beverages to pastries, each of them carefully chosen to suit your tastes.

there’s an intensity to the labour, something that brings him great joy. the care and excitement in something as small as the flick of his wrist when he pours sugar into your coffee, or the weight he puts on the kitchen knife while cutting the fresh strawberries he spent four minutes picking out at the market.

there’s something about it that’s just so, so tender. that earnest wish to see you happy and healthy, to make sure you never go hungry. taking care of you. it's pure, domestic, love incarnate. he’s so weak for it, so sappy, but he just can’t help it — suguru loves watching you eat his cooking more than anything.

that, and your blissful little expression is a sight to behold. sunkissed by the morning rays flitting in through the window blinds, suguru thinks you look something like an angel, soft and fleeting and so beautiful it makes his heart squeeze painfully inside his chest. heavy thumps of blood; warmth trickling from his heart to his wrists to the pads of his fingers, as he rubs absentminded circles into the skin of your thighs.

and he thinks to himself that all the happiness he needs is right here in front of him. in this moment, with you tiredly munching on the breakfast he made, sipping slowly from your cup of coffee and savouring every last drop. smiling at him so sweetly, so positively precious that he simply can't resist leaning down to taste the caffeine off your lips. 

everything feels so wonderful, so completely and utterly right. the world feels so kind, like this. a world where all that exists is you, and him, and the sun. heaven on earth.

all of it sends a tremor running through his heart, every slight change of the scene reflected in his eyes. the soft smile on your lips, the way you lean your head against his shoulder and bite back a yawn, the expectant look in your eyes as you feed him pieces of your food with a giddy grin —

suguru thinks to himself that he’d sooner die than give it up. 

as much as he loves sleeping in, loves indulging in your warmth until the sun sits comfortably on the blue canvas of the sky, he loves this even more. loves dragging himself out of bed before the sun even has a chance to peek out beneath the horizon painted pink and purple, tired and groggy, and so disgruntled at the warmth that leaves him when he pulls away from your skin. loves making his way to the kitchen almost in a daze, moving around the open space so very naturally; fingers curling around the lid of the espresso machine, and the crinkled paper bag of pastries, and the carton of orange juice he bought just for you.

just watching the world wake up, basking in the peace and domesticity of it all. basking in the thought of you — you, with your messy bedhead and droopy eyes, always blinking up at him so sleepily when he returns to you in the morning. he loves it all.

the soft little frown that sometimes tugs at your lips when you’re still lost in dreamland, blindly and subconsciously reaching for the empty side of the bed when he gets up to stretch. the weight of your arms around his waist, hugging his back on the somewhat rare occasion that you make your way to him before he makes his way to you. the grumbles against his skin about how he always abandons you on your days off, even if he only does it so he can make you both coffee.

you, in all your glory — now resting against his shoulder as you plop the last strawberry into your mouth, closing your eyes with a blissful little sigh.

and suguru feels so lucky. so very honoured, to be the one you chose. the one and only person who gets to see you like this, when your voice is still raspy and your hair is still messy, and you have crumbs sticking to your soft lips that you're too sleepy to wipe away.

he does so, himself, with an amused little huff that’s really more of a sigh laced with adoration. thumb smoothing over your skin gently, a silent i love you hanging on the tip of his tongue. his fingers find their way to your skin so effortlessly. like they belong there, like they exist solely to trace the softness of your jaw and to cradle your cheek.

”thank you,” you beam up at him, grinning sweetly. 

and suguru knows that you mean it. he knows that you’re grateful, knows not a moment goes by when you don’t notice his affections, no matter how subtle. he thinks you're a little bit silly for worrying that he doesn't. but he thinks you're even sillier for not realizing that you deserve all of it and more, that just that sweet smile of yours alone is more than enough to make up for it.

more than anything, he hopes from the bottom of his heart that you know the opposite is true as well. that he appreciates every single thing you do, notices everything you do for him, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem to you.

you're so good to him. always have been. how could he ever bear to not repay you in tenfold?

”you’re welcome,” he smiles, soft and saccharine and genuine. his lips brush against your forehead with a soft peck, one that has your body melting into his just a little more.

breakfast passes you both by in a flurry of warmth, splotches of sunlight and content hums, until you’re lying side by side beneath the blankets once again. curled up close to each other, with you resting on suguru’s chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart. his arm rests on your back, cradling you closer.

”that was delicious,” you chirp, something soft buzzing in your voice as you bite back a yawn. stretching your limbs out lazily, a honeyed smile on your face. ”as always.”

suguru’s a little too tired to fully hide the soft grin that crawls up to rest on his lips, almost smug. awfully happy with himself, and your words of earnest praise.

“yeah? ’m glad,” he hums, looking at you with affection swimming in his eyes. ”i haven’t lost my touch yet, then.”

”of course not,” you exhale, somewhere in between a huff and a chirp. “you could start a whole breakfast diner with your skills!”

the words are teasing, a little much, but laced with a syrupy sweet sincerity that has suguru’s heart doing laps in his chest. thump, thump, thump — strumming his heartstrings along as you please, conducting the orchestra inside his ribcage. but he’d much prefer to think of you as his muse.

a low chuckle rumbles through his body, akin to a purr. buzzing right by your ear, as his fingers curl around yours, his thumb rubbing soft circles into the skin of your hand. ”you think so?” 

an eager nod, as you gaze up at him happily. the sight makes his lips twitch upward, and he can only hope you don’t catch the way his heart skips a beat.

smoothing a large palm over your head, he tousles your hair fondly. ”yeah?” he chuckles, again. “you'll be my first customer, then.”

the smile on your face widens. ”will i get a discount?” you ask, a fuzzy contentment in the way your eyes glimmer. ”since i’m your favorite.”

suguru grins. a husky puff of laughter seeps out of his throat, filling the air with a palpable fondness. it’s almost overwhelming, the affection that simmers in his chest, a cup overflowing. he wants to reach over and smother you in kisses, wants to coo at you. wants to tell you how irresistable you are, like this; so cute and sleepy that he thinks you could probably coax him into giving you every star in the sky.

but that can all wait for another time. he doesn’t want to break the peace of the mellow moment, the subtle intimacy that lingers in the air. the playfulness in your words.

”of course,” he simply says, indulging you with a sweet smile. ”you’ll get all the discounts you want, baby. nothing less for my favorite customer.”

suguru’s eyes crinkle, brimming with love when he hears the happy little giggle that tumbles from your pretty lips. so pretty that he can’t resist pulling you a little closer, to give you another kiss — relishing in the way you soften against him. like you could fall asleep just like this, so safe and comfortable. breathing him in.

sunlight shines in through the window blinds, engulfing you in that familiar heavenly hue. your bedroom almost seems to glow, like a hazy polaroid, a moment that feels too precious to put into words. 

you look stunning, he thinks, with your droopy eyes and sleepy yawns. absolutely breathtaking. soaked in a brightness rivaling that of the sun herself, the most precious thing this world has to offer.

and suguru thinks to himself that this might just be it. that this might be all that he needs, all that he’ll ever need — but he already knew that.

he thinks of sunrises. of soft embraces and fluffy blankets, of expensive coffee pots and diamond rings, of the way your lips curl up every time he kisses you. he thinks of the light of morning, how it always seems to devour everything else. how it makes every sliver of darkness seem so inconsequential.

he thinks of how your presence always seems to do the same. 

when suguru looks down, pulled out of his lovesick stupor by the sound of a little snore, you’ve fallen back asleep. cheek squished against his bare chest, drooling a smidge as you dream so prettily, your chest rising up and down in a rhythmic serenity.

his heart flutters. fleeting and giddy, a little dove trapped in his chest. with a sweet coo, he reaches over to caress your skin with the back of his hand, careful not to wake you — so gentle that he holds his breath, as if afraid that even a single exhale could disrupt your well-deserved rest. 

butterflies dance in his stomach, when he sees the way that makes you smile. a whirlwind of them, wings fluttering eagerly, as if attempting to fly out of his throat. he gulps them down again, but he can still feel them. just like he could when you first met.

butterflies that still haven't gone away, despite how long you’ve been together. butterflies that never will go away, as long as there are plates to fill and breakfasts to be made.

in other words, they're there to stay — forever and ever.

(suguru’s gaze falls on your ring finger. he thinks of the secret in the bottom of the drawer, and wonders what kind of breakfast he should make for you when it’s time to bring it out.)

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Hi 💗 I hope you’re doing well! This is soooo random and might not be much but may I request another roommate Carmy one-shot where he fixes something around the apartment and looks really hot while doing it? So, reader gets turned on and wants to show her appreciation for his handiness, meanwhile he’s like, I’d fix anything for you. And things just get hot and heavy and maybe even kinda fluffy. I’m just on a Carmy binge rn, and I loveeeee how you write him! 🥹❤️

Hands On.

Synopsis - A broken lightbulb leads to some interesting discoveries for both you and Carmen.

Pairing - Roommate!Carmen Berzatto x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. carmen's big ego.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 1.5k

Author's Note - thank you for this request!! another roommate!carmy fic <3 this takes place in the roommates universe, but it's up to you if it comes before or after the other fics - there's no timeline!! this one got a little filthy, actually. the roommate series seems to be getting dirtier and dirtier... i would apologise, but i'm not sorry.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.

You're sat reading a book on your bed when the room is suddenly plunged into darkness.

You shriek in shock, and Carmy comes running, socked feet sliding on wooden floors through the apartment.

"Honey? You okay?"

He knocks twice before swinging the door open, looking around.

"Why are you sat in the dark?"

You huff and throw your book in his direction.

"I wasn't, until one second ago. The light just went off."

"Did it blow?"

"What?"

"Did it make a noise, when it went out? Did it flicker? Pop?"

"I don't know, Carm. It just kinda... went out."

He grabs his phone from his pocket to use as a flashlight, shining it at your overhead lamp.

"Looks like the bulb has blown. I think have a spare in the kitchen cabinet. Hold on."

He departs, leaving you sat on your bed, unable to see much. There's a warmth slowly building in your stomach, and you take a breath. Why are you so flushed, all of a sudden?

"Here. Got one. You think you can hold the light for me while I replace it?"

You nod and jump out of your spot, grabbing the phone from his hand. You point it towards the ceiling, watching as Carmy reaches up to unscrew the old bulb. His white t shirt rides up his stomach as he raises his arms, exposing his taut muscles. You exhale a shudder of a breath, willing yourself to calm down.

"Honey, can you stay a little more still please? The light is shaking."

"Sorry, Carm."

He winks at you before reaching up again, screwing in the new bulb. You can't stop staring at his arms, his strong biceps flexing as he works. His hands, big and rough, completely dwarf the little lightbulb. You know how those fingers feel as they brush across your skin. Little moments - like him skimming your back as he passes you in the kitchen - are imprinted in your mind, swirling around at a million miles per hour.

You're practically panting by the time he's finished, willing yourself to calm down.

"You okay, honey?"

You don't hear him. Instead, you're watching him run his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. You want to pull it as hard as he'll let you.

A hand on your shoulder startles you back to reality.

"You okay?"

You clear your throat, taking a deep breath.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Thank you, Carm. Don't know what I'd do without you. Seriously."

He chuckles, running his fingers up and down your arm.

"It's not a problem. I'd fix anything for you."

Your eyes shoot up from the floor to meet his, ocean blue irises focused on your face.

"...Really?"

He looks taken aback by your question.

"Yeah, really. You didn't know that? I'd do anything for you, sweetheart. Genuinely, anything."

You don't think before you move. You lunge forward and connect your lips to his, fingers tangling into his hair just like you imagined.

Carmy kisses you back with more passion than you expected, hands gripping at your hips to pull you flush against his body. He slips his tongue into your mouth as you happily let him take the lead, humming in contentment.

Eventually, you pull back, gasping for air. Carmy rests his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath.

"What was that for?" he whispers.

"Just wanted to thank you."

"That was a hell of a thanks," he chuckles.

You smile, running your thumb across his cheek.

"You're so fucking hot when you fix stuff for me around the apartment."

"Wait... what?"

"Fuck, Carm. I got so turned on watching you drill that kitchen cabinet last week that I had to take a cold shower."

"That's what does it for you?"

"It's just you. You're good with your hands. It's fucking sexy."

"Yeah?"

He's smirking now, clearly enjoying having his ego inflated. You know you shouldn't, but you continue. You grab one of his hands, running your fingers over the palm.

"I imagine that my hands are yours when I touch myself."

He groans, low and rumbled.

"That's what I think about, Carm. At night, when I can't sleep. Think about the way you'd touch me, the way your hands would feel on my thighs, my tits, wrapped around my throat."

"Fuck."

"I'm surprised you haven't heard me. I try to be quiet, but I'm not very good at it."

Carmen's chest is heaving, eyes dark and watchful. You can see the thoughts forming in his head, filthy and menacing.

"Such a dirty fuckin' mouth," he drawls, running this thumb over your bottom lip carefully. "Maybe we should put it to better use, hmm?"

You whine at his tone, but you're smug on the inside. There he is, you think. The Carmen that you don't get to see very often. The version of him that's domineering, possessive, assertive. You like him like this.

"Wanna see how pretty you look on your knees for me."

You can't say no to that.

You sink down onto the carpet, looking up at him with wide eyes. He looks as if his control is wearing thin. You want it to snap.

"Now what?" you tease.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Play innocent. Not after all that shit you just said."

You smirk, running your fingertips over the tent in his sweatpants. He grabs your wrist, holding it tightly.

"Don't fuckin' tease, honey. You and I both know I'm not patient."

"Something you should definitely work on," you wink, pulling his pants and underwear down his legs.

Your mouth waters as you look at him. He's pretty all over.

"Gonna thank you properly now," you murmur, before taking him in your mouth gently.

Carmy groans, hand flying to the back of your head. He tangles his fingers into your hair, keeping you anchored in front of him. He doesn't force you anywhere, just keeps you still.

"Goddamn, you look pretty with your mouth stuffed full of me," he drawls. "This what you wanted, baby?"

Baby. That's a new one. The nickname goes straight to your core, rubbing your thighs together to ease the ache. You nod in response to him, taking him deeper.

"Fuck. So perfect. Fuckin' made for me. Only me."

You nod again, reassuring him you've heard.

"Tell me, baby. Please. Use your words."

You release him with a pop, drool running down your chin and landing on your chest. You take a deep breath, licking your lips.

"I'm yours, Carm. Always have been. I'm yours. This pussy is yours."

You swear you see his knees buckle as he smirks down at you. He looks like the cat that got the cream.

"Gonna fuck you all over the apartment, baby. Every single surface. Doesn't matter if we break something. I'm good with my hands after all."

He winks at you before guiding himself back to your mouth, sinking down to the hilt. You hollow your cheeks and suck, trying not to smile when he practically whimpers. It's a power trip, having a man like Carmy at your mercy.

"Gonna cum down your pretty throat, angel."

You pull away to murmur against his skin.

"Want you to. Please, Carm. Wanna taste you. Wanna swallow it all."

He groans, deep and visceral, as you double down on your efforts, determined to get him to his ending. You dig your nails into his thighs, scratching down the skin as his hand tightens in your hair. The edge of pain is what undoes him, muscles tensing as he spills down your throat.

You catch his eyes, ensuring you have his attention. Swallowing carefully, you stick your tongue out, showing him proof of your promise.

"Good fuckin' girl," he breathes, dropping to his knees to connect your lips, languid and filthy.

Carmy smooths the hair back from your face, placing a tender kiss to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, the corner of your mouth. Collapsing back against the bed, he pulls you with him, wrapping you in his arms.

"You okay?" he whispers into your ear.

"More than okay. You?"

"I've never been better."

You laugh, and the sound makes him grin, white and beaming.

The two of you sit on the floor for a while, unbothered by the passing of time. You're enjoying being so close, the proximity a welcome change. Eventually, Carmy breaks through the silence.

"So, I've been meaning to mount our TV on the wall... you wanna watch?"

You elbow him in the side, heat creeping up your cheeks as you both laugh.

DIY suddenly doesn't seem all that bad.

@dins-cyarika

[amourane]

your fated one

pairing: regulus black x fem!reader

genre: fluff, mentions of pregnancy

w/c: 1.2k

summary: you never believed in fate until you met regulus black.

warnings: none

a/n: i love regulus black sm with all my heart and soulll, also i've been in a fluffy mood lately can you tell???

“Merlin.” You whispered as you held the pregnancy test in your hand, stomach churning at the two positive lines that were drawn on. 

Immense happiness filled your body before the dread came…how were you going to tell him?

Regulus lay in your shared bed, his dark hair tousled against the pillow. You stumbled out of the bathroom, head spinning from the new knowledge that had been bestowed upon you. Everything seemed surreal.

The morning sickness had been relentless, the missed period a silent alarm that something was amiss. Yet, the reality of it all hit you like a ton of bricks as you stood there, clutching the bathroom door frame for support. You and Regulus hadn’t even come close to discussing the topic of children. The both of you had basically just graduated from Hogwarts and the engagement ring that sat on your finger was the symbol of a promise of a life together.

Regulus glanced up from his book, concern etched into his features as he took in your distressed state. "Are you alright, love?" His voice was laced with worry, eyebrows furrowing as he approached you. "You don't look well."

Your throat felt dry, parched even. Your fingers were trembling as you felt tears prick your eyes. Merlin, what if he didn’t want the baby? Regulus was so young and so were you, having a child was something you hadn't even begun to fathom. 

“Y/n, darling?” There was a moment as his eyes caught sight of the object in your trembling hands, his expression shifted from confusion to realization. “Is that…?” 

His voice trailed off, eyes widening in astonishment when you nodded in approval. A wave of happiness washed over him and he felt warmth spread throughout his chest. His joy, however, was quickly tempered by concern as tears continued to streak down your face.

“Love, what’s wrong? Isn’t this meant to be a happy occasion? You’re pregnant!” He asked softly, bringing you to sit on the edge of the bed, his arm around you. “Do you not want the baby?”

“No! Of course I want the baby!” You shouted, voice cracking. “It’s just…we’re so young Reggie and we’re getting married soon, I don’t want to walk down the aisle looking like a fucking whale.” You wailed like a banshee and your fiancé broke out in laughter. 

“You are not going to look like a fucking whale darling, and we can postpone the wedding if it makes you feel any better, I’ll wait forever for you.” He cooed as he gave you a kiss. The tears didn’t stop but you felt happier. “I’ve always wanted a family and the journey we’re going to have together will be amazing. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“What if you love the baby more than me?”

“Not possible, I could never love anyone more than I love you.” He cupped your cheeks, adoring the way you acted like a petulant child at times. 

You sniffled, hands rubbing your belly. “I can’t believe it…”

Regulus's smile widened, his eyes alight with a newfound brightness. "Believe it or not, love, but fate has a funny way of bringing us together." He teased, his playful demeanor bringing a smile to your lips.

“Fuck that shit, I don’t believe in fate.”

“Love, we’re literally a witch and a wizard.” 

“Still don’t believe in it, you know me Reg.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, pushing you down onto the bed gently, peppering your face with sweet kisses. You could see the ways his eyes sparkled with something new. His smile was brighter than ever and his cheeks were rosy. You felt a new batch of tears brimming at your eyes and you soon started to cry again.

“Y/n?” He asked, wiping your tears away with his hand. “Are these tears happy or sad?”

“I just l-love you so much.” You sobbed. “I fucking love you Regulus Black.”

He bit his lip to hide the joyous laughter that was bubbling up inside of him but a chuckle escaped from his lips. You smacked his arm as a scowl took over your features.

“You prick, I’m here confessing my love to you and you’re laughing!”

Regulus bursted into laughter before summoning a mirror for you to look at your reflection. Your eyes were swollen and quite evident that you had been crying. Your hair was frazzled and all over the place.

“Even though you look like a mess, I still love you.”

"Good." You replied, a grin spreading across your face despite the lingering tears. "You're getting married to me."

//

Amidst the cheers and celebration, you and your newly-wed husband stood hand in hand, surrounded by friends and family. Little Leo, just five months old, nestled in your arms, his wide eyes already reflecting the familiar stormy grey of Regulus'.

“How’s little Leo doing?” Your husband cooed at your son and he giggled, tiny hands latching onto Regulus’ finger. “Me and Mama just got married. She’s officially Mrs Black now.”

Your heart melted at the words he said. The long dinner table was seated with chattering guests and you thought now was the perfect time to finally say the speech you had been preparing. Regulus still hadn’t a clue about what you were going to say so this was all going to be a surprise. 

Passing Leo into Regulus' loving arms, you pressed a kiss to your son's forehead before rising to your feet. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to you, curiosity and anticipation flickering in their gazes, including Regulus' and Leo's.

“Hi everyone.” You gave the faces you knew for decades a wave. “I've been waiting for this moment to share something I've wanted to say for a long time.”

You saw the way your husband’s face was knitted with confusion and you couldn’t suppress the grin that took over your face.

"Regulus Black, you have always been, and always will be, the light of my life. From the moment we met at eleven to this day at twenty-one, time has flown by, but my love for you has only grown stronger. You've given me the greatest joys in life, and I will never stop cherishing you. We've faced hardships together, but with you by my side, I know we can overcome anything. I cannot wait to continue this journey with you, raising our son together."

You could see the emotion welling in Regulus' eyes as you spoke, his expression mirroring the depth of your love.

“I used to say I didn’t believe in fate, that was a lie. I believed in fate the moment I met you Reg, you made me believe in it. We are destined for each other and I hope that I spend every second of my life with you. Fate brought us together and it will keep us together. Our family of three.”

You finished your speech and you saw Regulus’ eyes fill with tears as he got up and kissed you deeply without hesitation. The room erupted in cheers and congratulations, the love and happiness palpable in the air.

“We have fate to thank for this I guess.” He smiled as he rested his forehead against yours.

Tears were now running down your face as you gave your husband another kiss. Your gaze shifted to your son, cradled in Regulus' arms, and then back to your husband, a wave of love washing over you. 

“We sure do.”

[nachrosas]

BLANKET OF STARS | s.reid x reader

summary: in which stargazing with spencer leads up to you confessing your feelings. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: none, just pure fluff word count: 790 a/n: hope you guys like it and feedback is always appreciated! till the next one!

The evening temperature was mild, with a pleasant chill that caused slight goosebumps on her exposed skin, but nothing that bothered her all the same; from time to time, a gentle breeze blew in, carrying the scent of the nearby trees and the newly formed grass. What kept their bodies from touching the icy grass was a large, fluffy, cozy blanket that smelled faintly of lavender — which she was pretty sure Spencer had taken out of the washing machine before leaving the house. The constant chorus of crickets and the rustling of leaves caused by the light wind created a perfect soundtrack for the evening. 

He was lying on his back, his arm raised pointing to the sky. With a small green laser in his hands, he was tracing invisible lines between the bright dots.

“There, look!” he said, his voice full of excitement but still low, respecting the silence of nature. “That's Vega, the brightest star in the constellation of Lira! And just over there is Altair, part of Aquila. Together, with Deneb, they form the Summer Triangle. Fascinating, isn't it?”

You snuggled up next to him, your eyes watching him more than any constellation in the sky. His every move, every delicate, subtle gesture as he pointed to a new star, seemed more fascinating than any constellation. He spoke with such passion, with such intensity, that it was impossible to look away. The way his hands moved as he explained, the sparkle in his eyes, all that made the universe seem so distant, so secondary, but at the same time, in his presence, everything was so magnificent.

“Fascinating indeed.” she replied, with a warm tone, more because of the way he spoke than because of what he said.

Spencer turned slightly to look at her, his eyes shining brighter than any star. “Do you know that the light from these stars has traveled light years to get here? Looking at them is like looking into the past. The universe is so immense that...”

Before he could finish his sentence, you ended the space between you, interrupting him with a soft but intent kiss. Spencer was surprised for a moment, his body rigid before relaxing against you, his eyes closing in response to your touch. The kiss was quiet but charged with something deeper, as if the words he was about to say were swallowed up by the immensity of the moment. When your lips parted, you could still feel the warmth of his lips, the lightness in the air between you, and, for a moment, the universe seemed to have stopped to make room for the moment. Spencer's breathing became slower, and he smiled softly, his eyes still shining, but now in a different, more intimate way, as if he had found the right place in the middle of all the vastness.

The glitter of the stars reflected in his eyes seemed to dance with a softness you had never seen before. His eyes, normally curious and intense, were now softly focused on you, as if the entire universe had fallen silent, waiting for the next words to leave his lips.

“You know, among all those wonders up there…” you began, but your voice faltered momentarily. He didn't look away and the way the corners of his lips slowly curved revealed more than any words could express. “Nothing shines brighter for me than your smile.”

You took a deep breath, your mind a little scrambled as you waited for his reaction. Then, just as softly as your words, the same smile you offered Spencer was returned — not with words, but with the tenderness of a silent gesture, just the movement of your lips meeting again and your eyes fixed on his. 

The sound of the crickets in the background seemed more distant now, as if the whole universe had quietened down around them, standing still to watch that intimate moment between the two of them. The light breeze that caressed your skin was now the only thing that filled the silence between you, and it was comfortable, and welcoming, as if the whole countryside was sharing in the intimacy of that kiss.

When you pulled away, you laughed softly — a soft sound that was lost in the vastness around you. The warmth of the moment was still there, but in a quieter way, as if the words you'd said before still warmed your hearts. Spencer looked at you, his eyes softening even more as he realized that you were somehow closer to him than he could have imagined.

Under the infinite sky, and with Spencer by your side, you felt like you were in the right place. There was nowhere else in the entire universe you'd rather be.

[safebear]

I just had some wild thoughts….just something about reader not wanting wrio to pulls out even after he came like 😀😀 the reader would just wraps their leg around him and begs him to stay inside

I’m not sure if you’re looking for a wholesome, fluffy version or a spicy, smut version anon so I’ll do both! Enjoy!~ (Also, shoutout to my coworker for helping me think of male scents for Wrio. She a real one lmao)

~Fluff Version~

~warnings: mention of sex/orgasms, cockwarming, otherwise just fluff, snuggling, slight aftercare, fem!reader, MDNI!

His sweaty body falls ontop of yours as you both breathe heavily, hearts beating fast as you come down from the euphoric high orgasm. Once he gains his awareness, he pushes off of you as to not crush you with his muscled weight. As he was about to pull his cock out so he could lay next to you, his movements are stopped as you wrap your legs around his hips. “Not yet Wrio. I want your cock in me for a little longer.” You beg as you look up at him with a needy look. How could he say no to you, especially since you look so glorious laid out on his sheets like that. He chuckles and flips you two around so you’re straddling his lap, cock fit snuggly inside your pussy as he wraps his arms around you. You rest your head in the crook of his neck and inhale his scent. Sweat with the hint of aftershave and the smell of spice and black vanilla. Nuzzling your nose into his neck, you press a kiss to his skin. Smiling, he uses one hand to comb his fingers through your hair as his other arm wraps securely around your hips, keeping you close. “We’ll stay like this just a little longer, then I’ll run us a bath, my dear.” You only reply with a mumble, eyes getting heavy as exhaustion overtakes you. The calming pace of his steady breathing, the secure hold he has on you, and the mesmerizing touch of his fingers in your hair easily lulls you to sleep. It’s not long until slight snores can be heard from you. Smiling, he presses a light kiss to your forehead, then closes his eyes to bask in the serene moment of closeness and silence.

~Spicy Smut Version~

~warnings: smut, mentions of grinding, cum, cockwarming, slight aftercare, fem!reader, MDNI!

Laying on top of you, he holds his upper half up while his head rests in the crook of your neck, he breathes heavily as he tries to gain his senses from the mindbreaking orgasm he just had. Once his cock finally finishes spurting his warm seed inside of you, he begins to pull out until he’s stopped by your legs wrapping around his hips. He’s caught off guard for a second and gives you a questioning look. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull his face close to yours and look deeply into his eyes. “Not yet Wrio. I want your cock in me for just a little longer. Please?” You beg then peck his lips. He replies with pulling you into another kiss. This one deeper and longer, more passionate. Your tongues interwine as the kiss turns more intense. You moan into the kiss as his hands explore your skin, groping your most sensitive areas. You smirk as you feel his cock twitch inside your pussy. “I see I’m not the only one who wants more.”

“Can you blame me? How can I not get hard from kissing your sweet, delicious lips and hearing the sinful moans that leave them.” He kisses you again, lips moving from your mouth, down to your chin, to your neck, to lick and nibble on the already bitten skin. Tilting your head to give him more access, your eyes close and your hips involuntarily move against his as you whisper his name. “Fuck,” he quietly curses. His hips grind against yours, pelvis rubbing against your sensitive clit, as he searches for that pleasurable friction. Your hands grab his ass, helping to guide him to rub harder against your clit. Your nails dig into his skin, causing him to groan and bite harder onto your neck. The bed creaks and bumps against the wall from your movements. It doesn’t take long until you’re both shaking from the immense pleasure as you cum on his cock and he spills into you once again. He falls unto his side and pulls you close to him, keeping his cock snuggled in you. Rubbing your back, you both try to steady your breathing and fast heartbeats. Once calm, you both look at one another and break into a giggling fit. “That was..wow.” Wrio says as his laughter subsides. “I suppose I should tell you not to pull out sooner.” You teasingly flirt. He smiles at you and pulls you into a passionate kiss. Once you two pull away, you press your forehead to his, nuzzling your nose against his. “I love you, Wrio.” His hold on you tightens. “I love you too, my Duchess.” He presses one final kiss to your forehead and holds you close in his arms as you two finally succumb to sleep. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi, I just wanted to ask: If you end up writing something for the monsterfalls au do you think you could do something where reader helps to groom Ford or Stan's newly acquired wings and them just loving the attention and care they give them? Also, love your stories and thanks if you decide to do this.

Stan, while thinking his new appearance was great for scaring kids on Summerween, hated his stone wings that weighed like a pair of cinder blocks.

They made sleeping difficult! How do you make sleeping difficult?! Apparently becoming a stone gargoyle.

That wasn’t even the worst thing either. Ford told him once after he complained about how his wings felt itched and irritated, almost like an itch he couldn’t scratch, that his wings needed constant preening whenever necessary as to avoid such situations from happening.

However Stan couldn’t exactly reach everywhere that needed preening and grew annoyed but his saviour arrived in the form of you.

‘Doll face! Just the person I’m looking for, would you mind helping me with my wings? They’ve been a pain in my ass this entire morning and I could really use some help in getting to the spots I can’t reach.’ He says as you examined his wings, strong and durable just like him, but oddly enough were soft like clay underneath; also just like him

‘I’d be happy to help Stanley but why me? You could’ve asked the kids or even Ford to help preen.’ You asked and Stan stiffened as he remembered the fact that Ford told him about preening; it was a mating thing to display the bond between mates amongst other reasons, which was mainly why he wanted you to preen his wings for him.

Stan scratched the back of his head. ‘Eh, none of them are in the house, doing their own thing or whether and even if they were they’d probably pull out the wrong feather.’ He quickly explains himself, hoping you’d buy it.

‘Okay, why don’t you lay down on your stomach and I’ll get to work.’ You replied after a brief moment of silence and Stanley sighed in relief as he was quick to flop on his bed, displaying his beautiful wings for you to gawk at.

Ford maybe a sphinx with pretty wings but you found Stanley’s wings even prettier, they looked as though they have priceless minerals within them, glistening beneath the light. They were a beauty to behold for those who actually cared to look at them and it never failed to take your breath away. ‘Beautiful.’ You murmured to yourself as you began to gently pull out the loose stone feathers that weighted like a pebble within your hand.

Stan felt like he could’ve fallen asleep then and there with how therapeutic he felt, he could feel his wings getting lighter with each loose feather you pulled, growling lowly in content as he closed his eyes and focused his mind on the way your hands carefully navigated his sturdy wings. He could’ve told you to be a bit rougher as they were like ordinary wings, but he throughly liked the way you treated them like they were glass and the way you run your fingertips in appreciation of them while counting the minerals within them, thinking he wouldn’t notice but he did and he couldn’t help but smile softly to himself.

He could happily stay like this forever if he could but he knew he couldn’t, so Stanley will take whatever time with you he could and keep it close to his heart to remind himself that someone does care about him and his stupid stone wings.

Ford took immense care of his wings but he often forgets that he has them when he’s deep in thought, which leads to him knocking stuff over, smacking Stanley, you or the kids accidentally with them and so on.

His wings were beautiful, majestic and fluffy, unlike Stanley’s which were the colour of gunmetal or cold stone or even gravel.

So whenever he forgets that his wings needed preening, he won’t know until you point it out to him, which is what you did.

‘Ford, did you forget to preen your wings?’ You asked as Ford looks over his shoulder and at his wings, where he could obviously see there was a few feathers that needed to be removed.

‘Ah so that’s why I’ve been in such discomfort as of recently, thank you my beloved for pointing it out. I shall preen them as soon as I’m done here.’ Ford replied but you pressed your hand onto his shoulder.

‘Why don’t you let me preen your wings for you?’

Ford blushed, he has read somewhere that pressing one’s wings was a thing only done between mates, or even that of a courting ritual amongst some bird species, but not only that but preening one’s wings was also seen as a means of survival and self care of one’s being. So the thought of the of you doing his wings for him had a whole lot more meaning to him as he would very much like you to preen his wings, but feared that he might make some…noises of enjoyment from your actions.

You saw his hesitance and said. ‘I’ll be gentle but then again it is all up to you as they are your wings, that and I don’t want to see you in discomfort or pain.’

Ford’s features softened as the blush died down. ‘Okay my dear I trust you with my wings.’

You smile as you sat yourself behind him and began to get to work in easing the loose feathers as carefully as you could, making sure you weren’t using more forced them necessary while praising Ford and his beautiful wings. ‘Your wings are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, but then again they only reflect the person blessed with such wings.’ You then sweetly kissed where his wings connect to his back, a sensitive spot for Ford, causing the man to take a sharp breath as you do so before relaxing once more.

He was a little tense to start off with but gradually Ford felt himself melt under your carful touch and caresses as he purrs low in the back of his throat, tail slowly swishing in a display of his happiness and content regarding the current situation. He knew from that moment as you placed the loose feathers into a neat pile by your feet that he didn’t want anyone else to preen his wings but you.

Then again he was never in dispute with this idea of you preening his wings, he was just a bit awkward and unsure how to ask such a task of you without it coming across too strong, or that you didn’t have a choice but to agree to preening his wings. He just wanted to spend time with you and it just so happened that his wings were also in a state of disarray when you came in, all of which was completely unplanned and purely coincidental, but Ford couldn’t help but thank fate for this moment for he would treasure it forever and always.

‘You okay Ford? I think you’re…purring.’ You spoke with a smile upon your face when you felt his tail hit against your foot, finding it adorable as the purring coming from him.

‘Yes I’m perfectly fine my dear, perfectly fine.’ Ford reassured with a smile upon his face. ‘Perfectly fine indeed.’

[kyeomyun]

2:01 AM

pairings: dad!jeonghan x gn!reader

genre: FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFF :((

warnings: none... you might lowkey go through baby fever :)

word count: 0.8k

synopsis: jeonghan would do literally anything to stop his baby from crying, even if it included being dolled up.

::note: WELL- yes ik now those jewels on jeonghan hair are indeed stickers and not hairclips but YK WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THIS. also hello strangers :). it's been a fat minute since I have actually written something down so if this seems a little dry... just know I haven't written anything since august 🧍🏾‍♀️but i do hope you enjoy this absolute brain rot I wrote last night at 2 in the morning 😍

network(s): @kflixnet

If there was one thing Jeonghan absolutely despised, with his whole entire being, it would be seeing someone who he holds, oh so dearly to his heart, cry.

He knows crying is a trigger for intense emotion, don't get him wrong, he knows very well it was common with toddlers. Including his. But that does not eliminate the huge tear he feels in his chest when the salty crystalline drops roll down his wife or his daughter's cheeks.

And he would do about everything (except cook the pot roast dinner that you LOVE that takes almost 5 hours to make and Jeonghan could not, for the life of him, stand on his two increasingly aging feet for more than 2), to make his loved ones stop crying. Even if that included doing something he thought he would not fit..

"Almost done, darling?" Jeonghan asked softly, careful not to make the tire of his voice get the best of his tone.

It was 2 AM, and his daughter, Yoon, had a rude awakening with cold sweat and vivid memories of a nightmare that she did not want have the guts to relive with her father. Which the father could understand, reliving a nightmare is not fun at all and he did not want to force that scenario onto his precious girl.

"Nu-uh," She clipped another hair clip onto Jeonghan long hair, humming in approval watching her masterpiece come to life in front of her eyes. "You said I can put a lot, daddy!" She pouted, hands flowing through the overload of bows: baby pinks, baby blues, even ones with sparkles and stars dazzled upon the long strands of freshly washed hair. Messy? Yes. Did Jeonghan care? Just a little tiny bit. "I have to make you really, really, really, pretty!"

"I did say that, did I?" Jeonghan said that more to himself, his words playing back on him tremendously. His eyes were drooping, fighting back the wondrous dreamland he was in before he was awoken by a frightened 4 year old. As much as his body wanted to shut down, his mind was stuck on one thing and one thing only.

Well maybe 2.

How long will it take to take these hairclips out and how is his miniature him doing?

"Mhm!" She clipped glittery pink hairclip on a randomly selected portion of her father's hair. "But at least daddy will look extra, extra pretty!"

Jeonghan butt was staring to numb, sitting on the carpeted floor of his daughter's room criss-crossed and Yoon standing up behind him with the next 2 hairclips awaiting their home on his head. But his heart filled rapidly, an intense feeling he has always had at moments like these. Ever since Yoon was born, this feeling was almost... unexplainable. Too immense to be just happiness and too extreme to be just love. It could be a mix of both but those 2 words are just not enough. No words could ever be.

Oh, he is down bad...

The smile that stretched upon his poorly chapped lips was one worth describing though; a smile that held so much value, love, adoration, did he think love?

"One more, daddy!" Yoon announced enthusiastically, a pretty baby blue butterfly, clipped on a strand near the front of Jeonghan head. A small giggle was heard as the little girl admired her work, grabbing ahold of the mirror and giving it to her pretty caregiver. "Is it pretty?"

Jeonghan took the mirror, its weight light but enough to slightly tilt his hand a bit. This motion was able to show the awaiting face of his daughter, who too stared into the mirror and tried to read her father's face. But he obviously had his answer.

But he still pretended to contemplate, his pointer finger tapping his chin in wonder. "It's not pretty,"

That cute pout adorned her lips again, her fragile heart clenching painfully. "You... don't like it? I thought–"

"It's beautiful, baby," Jeonghan looked behind him, and nothing, absolutely nothing, could match the cuteness of seeing his other half, his small angel, puffy cheeks bunch with joy. A smile that could kill many, Jeonghan being one of millions. Billions.

"Yay!" The excitement was barely contained in her small body, slightly bouncing in her place she stood in for almost 30 minutes before her stubby arms wrapped around the neck of her father. "Do you think uncles will be jealous?"

"Very," Jeonghan stared back in the mirror, his smiling bundle of joy warming his heart to the greatest. "Very, very jealous."

A kiss was planted on his cheek, and now he was conflicted about what his members will actually be jealous about.

His marvelous creation on his head, hairclips and bows that were placed in no particular pattern, or the creator, that shined her crooked teeth and eyes shining just as bright as she went back to slightly messing with the butterfly hairclip that hung just barely in his peripheral.

Ok, definitely the creator.

did you enjoy your order?

if you did, please reblog, like, (pls) comment, all of that jazz :>

have a good day, sweets ^^

tagging: @wheeboo @etherealyoungk @rubywonu @trblsvt @icyminghao @idubiluv @odxrilove @stormyjisung @slytherinshua @fairyhaos @gyu-effect @hannieheartuu @jaehunnyy @luvhyun3 @lvlystars @mesanthropi

[autistichalsin]

Halsin headcanon

So Halsin's writer has said on Twitter that Halsin's family's deaths were natural, a combination of misfortune and disease. BUT also that Halsin lost them fairly young. It doesn't sound like childhood per se since he said "comparatively" young, but also young enough that he was "turned over to the Druids" as opposed to finding/joining the Druids himself ("turned over to the Druids" was the specific verbatim wording used.)

Which implies the Druids were given custody of him by his parents, so my guess is he lost his parents as a teenager.

Which brings me to my headcanon:

Teenage Halsin arriving at the Grove, starting to get lessons on Druidic magic. He excels, mastering his wildshape faster than initiates decades or even centuries older than him.

The Archdruid, Halsin's mentor, thinks something is off. Halsin's bear wildshape, his clear favorite, is that of a cub. Small and fluffy and delicate (and enough to get him mocked by the peers immature enough for bullying). And the combination of trauma and just general age leads to Halsin being resentful and acting out, fighting with the initiates his age, and blatantly defying the rules any chance he gets.

The Archdruid then realizes he made a huge mistake. He talks to Halsin softly, telling him that Halsin needed a chance to heal, not the weight of responsibility. That he needs time to just exist. He tells Halsin that they'll know when he's ready to resume his instruction in Druidic magic and culture, and lets Halsin wander about more or less as he pleases, with some lessons here and there for learning Druidspeak or the history of Druids. Low pressure things a teenager could reasonably do.

Meanwhile, Halsin wanders off, spending more of his time in cub form than out of it, and finds a mama bear who takes him in. She just had a cub leave and misses them, even though it's only natural, and sees Halsin and pretty much instantly goes "mine. My cub." And Halsin very much appreciates it, cuddling up to her warmth and letting out little cub noises and letting her totally baby him. After all, no one else is around to judge.

Months or years pass, and he starts to grow and heal. He puts on a bit of weight (having been very skinny before) and his bear form starts to finally grow. When it's finally in adult form and Halsin starts seeking out the company of the other Druids instead of refusing to see anyone but the Archdruid, they know he's ready. He starts his lessons again, and this time he is able to focus- and more importantly, to enjoy it, to enjoy learning about nature and magic. It's only a few years later before he becomes a novice Druid, to the Archdruid's immense pride.