#cw the foster care system

[autistic-katara]

TELL ME MORE ABOUT CATRIONA!!! what's she like . can i squeeze her like a stress ball and put her in a blender

AAAHHH TYSM FOR ASKING !! (made it kinda long oops)

anyways uhh not sure what u want to know but her birthday is the 22nd of July, she’s 15 years old, she’s lived her whole life in Scotland, she’s lesbian, she was raised non-religious until she was placed with a hyper-christian foster family (her parents died when she was 11 // religious trauma frfr), she has a little sister named Francis who she was separated from after her parents died, one of her earliest memories is watching her dad try and learn arabic from a family friend (his parents were west asian immigrants who gave him up for adoption when he was a baby so he never got to learn his parents language), she has ptsd from what happened to her in her foster home + her parents dying, she was the second person in the group to leave home and find the flat (the first being Liam), she loves cats (there’s a stray who sometimes sleeps inside the stairwell of the apartment building, she named her Faye), all she wants is to find her sister, she doesn’t cope with her problems well (none of them do), she hates the scars on her legs (scared of what others would think but glad it’s unlikely anyone’ll see them), she’s autistic (undiagnosed bcz the system sucks), she straightened her hair everyday for almost 3 years because her (white) foster family couldn’t be bothered to figure out how to take care of curly hair, she and Ella start dating after a good few months of living together in the flag (she wonders what she would think of her scars, she knows she wishes Liam would stop), she often wonders how long it’ll take to fuck-up the little family of the 6 of them (forcing her alone again), she hopes it won’t happen for a while, she’s scared it’ll be her fault.

[asherthephoenix]

Oooh! Here's a question! What is one (1) headcanon you have for each reboot kiddo? (One for Priya, one for Bowie, and so on.)

Most of these I've had for awhile but thanks for helping me realize there were a few characters from this cast I never bothered to make hcs for lol. Some of these are gonna be sadder than others (I like making angst). TW FOR MENTIONS OF: Child neglect, transphobia, homophobia, the foster care system, child abuse, relationship abuse Caleb: Dumped Priya shortly after the season 2 finale when he realized they just weren't compatible and he'd rather just be friends (please let this be the case in s3🙏) Axel: She's related to Shawn and has a part time job as an instructor at the flower shop and fighting school. Years after the show she gets promoted to manager/class organizer

Nichelle: She's the daughter of the in-universe equivalent of someone like Beyonce or Will Smith, and so she got into acting as a baby.

Lauren: Her parents paid very, very little attention to her when she was a small child because they were preoccupied with their (full of illegal practices) circus buisness and Lauren was primarily raised by her older brother (who is 11 years older than her.) The computer was her babysitter a lot of the time and she got into creepypasta stuff at like age 4 Damien: He's trans ftm and was disowned by his parents after coming out, luckily he had a supportive aunt who took him in and allowed him to start HRT. He signed up for TD without hesitation or even bothering to look up what the show entailed when he heard he could win a million dollars because he knew he could use that money to A. repay his aunt for her kindness and B. afford top surgery

MK: Raised in the foster care system alongside her twin brother. She barely ever got anything for herself growing up and developed her klepto behavior after stealing her first video game and console (a 3DS and pokemon sun for anyone curious)

Raj: Figured out he was gay in middle school. Didn't want to come out because while he knew his immediate family would be supportive, his extended family overseas certainly wouldn't be. Needless to say his family cut contact with a lot of distant relatives after the show aired Wayne: He'd never actually had a girlfriend prior to being on TD. When the purple haired intern (who I hc started liking him after he helped her in the fear challenge) told him she had a crush on him she had to explain it very slowly several times over in order for him to understand what she meant Ripper: also had it rough growing up unfortunatley; he mentions at one point his parents dropped him a lot and told him that babies ruin everything so I don't think it's a stretch to say his parents were abusive. Axel was the first person who truly made him feel loved and accepted.

Zee: Uses perscription marijuana for anxiety. The soda is a clear metaphor for weed; while yes he drinks a lot of it normally since he probably wasn't allowed to use drugs (even perscription) on camera he seriously upped the amount of soda he drank as a sort of replacement

Chase: Was actually a decent person once upon a time and legitimatley did woo Emma over with actual charm. With time unfortunatley he started the youtube channel and once it took off the fame got to his head so he would do anything to make the next "viral video," including putting his GF's life in danger.

Emma: She used to be a model student- straight As, participated in a lot of extracirriculars, had a ton of friends, etc. All of that went down the drain when she used 90% of her time to work on the youtube channel. After breaking up with Chase (the second time) she went to therapy and is trying to become the great person she once was, but it's going to take quite a bit of time.

Julia: She first came out as queer for the sake of a pride month post/getting sponsorships from "queer friendly" brands but hadn't actually thought much about her sexuality at the time. Getting to know MK (and Bowie + the hockey bros) during TD made her realize she actually is a Lesbian, she wasn't lying like she thought she was. Millie: Developed a HUGE crush on Priya during s1. She first started gaining feelings around episode 6 or so but didn't quite process that it was a crush until she realized just how happy she was to have Priya back when she forgave her in the season 1 finale + how upset she would have been if she lost Priya. She cried herself to sleep after watching the season 2 livestream at the playa😭 Bowie: Was a huge brony when he was a kid and got into arguments about the show with grown men online in middle school Priya: After season 2, she was contacted by Courtney (who very reluctantly checked out the new seasons and was horrifed by Priya's situation) who offered to be her lawyer when suing her parents for the right to access the s1 prize money. They were sucessful and Priya moved in with Millie afterwards 😉

[sleepyfan-blog]

Forest Wanderings

Author’s note: This is the next part in Mer-Cedric wandering with Reader! Thank you to @egrets-not-regrets for letting me borrow her oc Erriox! First. Next

Warnings: brief talk about the American foster care system, please ask me to tag something if it bothers you/I missed it

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel

Summary: Cedric continues to accompany you on your backpacking travels through the forest near the sea he popped out of. 

Cedric flew alongside you through the air with an effortless ease that you were trying very hard not to be jealous over. The rocky, hilly terrain covered in trees and underbrush was difficult for you to traverse on foot, and the path that you were taking to the nearby town for your next stop in civilization was poorly maintained in this part of the forest you were walking in. He stayed close to you, while not being so close as to feel as if he was crowding you.

You also got the distinct feeling that he could move much much faster than the pace he was… Flying? He looked as though he was swimming through the air somehow, from the way his fins and tail flexed and shifted in the slight breeze that blew through the trees and felt nice on your face and hands. “How are you able to do that?” You ask, pausing and sitting on a large boulder as you’ve decided to take a break from hiking. 

The point of backpacking in your opinion wasn’t necessarily the destination that you had in mind - as you weren’t planning on going anywhere in particular, but the breathtaking journey. Like now. On one side of the rocky and grass-covered path was a steep cliff drop, where you could see the rolling waves of the ocean, the salt-sea air refreshing. On the other side, was the same deep forest that you were traveling through. Many of the trees were spruce and douglas fir, though there were also cedar trees growing wild as well. 

You’d seen deer wandering through the underbrush, nibbling on the new-growth leaves and half-ripe berries growing on some of the bushes and vines earlier today. You’d taken a couple of pictures of them with the camera you’d brought with you. You’d been tempted to take pictures of Cedric as well as the large white and black patterned mer flew through the forest, but you’d decided to wait for an appropriate time to ask him first. 

“Do what?” Cedric asks, tilting his head a little at you as he sits down next to you. 

“Fly through the air?” You answer. He’s so big, you can’t imagine that his bones are hollow… And he doesn’t have any sort of wings that you’re familiar with, to allow for flight. 

“Oh! It’s an ability granted to us by-” Cedric stops talking for a moment, fidgeting with his hands “It’s an inborn ability, though flying itself is a skill that one needs to practice. I’ve met some brothers who are very good at flying. Others… Not so much.” It was a gift that the god-emperor had gifted each mer-ine, along with the ability to swim through the sea of stars and the raging warp for prolonged periods of time. But it was forbidden to say such things to the mortals of Ancient Terra, lest they learn of things too early. 

You squint up at him. His ears were a fascinating shade of pink and he was fidgeting with his hands, which meant that he was either lying to you or hiding something. As many tales you’d heard about how terrifying and mysterious the Astartes were, Cedric was neither of those things. He was big and strong, but had a curious joy with which he explored the world. You silently wondered whether or not he was young for an Astartes. Perhaps like you, a young adult, having left home for the first time and searching for one’s place in the world… “Uh-huh. We’ve been traveling together for several hours now. What do you think of backpacking?”

“I find it to be an interesting practice. To enjoy the journey for what it is, rather than because you are trying to get somewhere.” Cedric answers with a small smile “I’ve told my brothers that I will be traveling with you for some time… It’s definitely possible that at least one of them will come to see us, and pester me.” He sighed a little, shaking his head a little.

You were about to say something, a question on your lips when the device attached to one of Cedric’s wrists crackled to life. 

A low, masculine voice rumbled “I just got your message. What’s this about traveling overland with a human?”

“They’re traveling the nearby forest, close to the waters’ edge, and I asked if I could join them, at least until they get to the next human settlement, and they agreed.” Cedric answered with a small grin directed at you.

“Alright. Be sure to use your common sense and exercise caution, alright? You’ve got some healing potions on you, right? If you’re going to be traveling away from the pod for some time, you better be properly kitted out for it.” The other rumbled.

“Yes papa, I have healing potions in my bag. A couple of regular ones and a couple of high-strength ones, just in case something happens. I’ll be sure to vox in regularly, too.” Cedric answered with a sigh, a small smile still lingering on his face.

“Good. Your mom is in the area, trading with her inland cousins, and foraging for some ingredients for Amelia. She’ll probably stop by and say hello.” Cedric’s dad responded, a sigh in his voice.

“Okay dad. I’ll keep an eye out for mom.” Cedric answered, rolling his shoulders a little. 

“Good. Talk to you again soon. Have fun wandering, pup.” The older mer answered.

“I’m not a pup! I’m full grown!” Cedric groused, pouting at the communicator on his wrist.

“Yes, yes. I know. Goodbye for now.” With that, the machine stopped making noise.

The large white and black mer chuffed grumpily and glowered at the machine for several seconds before shaking his head a little. He smiles at you and apologizes “Sorry for ignoring you, but my dad voxxed me.” 

“I’m glad that you’ve got family who care for you, Cedric. It’s good to be cared for.” You answer, a wistful smile of your own tugging up the corners of your lips.

“... Do you not have a family?” The mer asked, startling you a little.

You hadn’t expected that he would pick that up “Well… Sort of? It’s complicated. I was left in the baby box at the hospital I was born in, and was never told anything about either of my birth parents. I grew up in the foster-care system, traveling from family to family every couple of years… I was almost adopted a couple of times but… After I hit thirteen, the younger kids were focused on as potential adoptees as most parents looking to adopt aren’t interested in teenagers.” You sigh deeply, shaking your head a little “I suppose that’s where I got my love for travel… Although I enjoy it a lot more now that I get to decide where to go, and how long the journey takes. A couple of my fellow foster siblings I really connected with, so we stay in contact with each other when we can.”

“... Oh…” Cedric managed out. You see tears in his light blue eyes, and his lower lip wobbles a little. “Would you… Mind if… Would you be uncomfortable if I gave you a hug?”

You smile a little and shift so that you’re facing him more on the boulder you’re sitting on, opening your arms wide “Sure thing, Cedric.” Part of the reason why you’re wandering like this is to process all of the feelings about your… Varied childhood without being watched and pressured by other people to be what they think of as normal. You also have weekly video chats with a therapist, who has been helping you… You think. You cry at least once during the sessions, but you tend to feel better afterwards.

Or at least hollow and tired, which is better than the bitter rage that still festers under your skin from time to time. 

He smells like sea salt as he hugs you tightly, almost to the point of driving the air from your lungs. Cedric’s hug is warm and comforting, and you hide your face in his broad chest. You can hear his heart… Hearts? Beating in his chest. It’s a comforting if somewhat strange sound. You hadn’t expected to run into a mer-ine, but Cedric has been a wonderful companion so far.

He also doesn’t seem to mind that you hug him as tightly as you can for several minutes. You hadn’t realized how touch-starved you were until Cedric started hugging you.

Maybe mer-hugs lasted for several minutes? They were deeply mysterious creatures after all. Or so you’ve been told. You do eventually let go of him, and he lets you go a moment or two later, and makes no comment on the fact that his chest is damp with tears.

“Right, then. Let’s… Shall we get moving? I’d rather not sleep this close to the edge of a cliff, as I don’t think I could survive such a long fall. Besides, we’ve got several hours before sun-down.” You say, smiling a little.

“... What does sun-down have to do with stopping traveling?” Cedric asks curiously, tilting his head a little at you again. “It’s a clear night, and the moon is nearing full. More than enough light to continue to travel by if you wish.”

“See, humans don’t really see well in the dark, like at all without having a much closer or much brighter source of light to see by then the moon and stars. I do have a flashlight, but I try to save the battery for emergencies only. Besides, I’ve been traveling for most of the day and pushing myself to walk overnight will only exhaust me, possibly dangerously so, for the next leg of the journey.” You explain, shrugging a little.

“Oh… So humans do need to sleep every day/night cycle. I thought so! Hah, I’ll be sure to tell Jophi that when I see him next.” Cedric responded, wriggling a little in delighted vindication.

“Do… Do you not need to sleep?” You ask your new traveling companion, curious as to whether or not that rumor was true.

“I mean… We should, and we can. But we can travel for months if not years on very little sleep in much more dangerous conditions than this terrestrial walk we’ve been doing. But we only do that in dire circumstances, and in much larger shoals, with those who are resting in the middle of the shoal, so that everyone else can move them while they sleep.” Cedric answered with a playful grin. 

“What would cause a shoal of mer-ines to migrate like that?” You ask.

Cedric shifts a little, ducking his head a little “If we received a call for help, because of dangerous predators attacking or causing troubles. I cannot say more about this without permission. Certain dangers can listen in if they are spoken about, and we wish to spare this world from their view.”

Well… That was a deeply ominous thing to say, Cedric. Thank you very much. Now you’re imagining space-cthulhu attacking random planets as mer-ines like Cedric swarm after them like a bunch of angry wasps or bees. “Gotcha! No asking about mysterious predators. Ready to get going?”

“I am ready when you are.” The mer nodded, smiling a little as he started to float, content to travel alongside you.

[streetlamp-amber]

blanket fort for the soul

dick grayson x batmom!reader

word count: 2.2k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: mention of death, family fluff <3 NOTES: dick grayson my little baby i love you so so much you deserve endless happiness and to be protected from all evil

You were just coming back from your lunch break with two of your coworkers when you received a call from Gotham Academy asking you to come pick up Dick as soon as possible. It didn’t take more than a minute after the call ended for you to inform your boss you were cutting your day of work short today, to grab your black trench coat and bag and to sit behind the wheel of your car, on your way to the private school.

Dick Grayson had entered your lives a month and a half ago, after Bruce took you on a date to Haley’s Circus where the young boy’s parents died tragically in front of your eyes. When you were informed that their child didn't have any family to care for him and would end up in the foster system, you didn't even have to try to convince your husband to begin the process to become his foster parents. It had been two weeks since Dick started living with you in the manor and though he was slowly warming up to Bruce, Alfred and you, he was still plagued with nightmares and a deep sadness about the loss of his family.

“What happened?” You asked the receptionist in a hurry once you arrived at the school. You didn't need to introduce yourself or mention to the woman behind the desk that you were Dick’s ward, perks of being married to Bruce Wayne.

“Ah, Mrs. Wayne!” The headmaster, a bald fifty-something white man with round glasses that you should probably try to remember his name, exclaimed as he appeared in the doorway leading to his office. “Please, follow me.”

You walked around the receptionist’s desk and entered the headmaster’s office, where a small boy with dark hair hung his head low. You could sense the sadness emanating from him the second you stepped in the room. You ignored the principal’s invitation to take a seat in the chair in front of his desk to instead crouch down in front of Dick.

“Dick, sweetie, are you okay?” You asked him worriedly. You rested your hands on his knees and lowered your head to try to catch his eyes.

The young boy shook his head ‘no’ before lunging onto you, wrapping his thin arms around your neck as he wept on your shoulder. You were surprised at first, Dick wasn’t comfortable enough with you and Bruce to do more than holding your hands when outside of the house, but you recovered from the shock in less than a second.

“Oh, bubs,” you whispered in a sigh, hugging him close to you and rubbing your right hand up and down his back in a comforting way as sobs shook his small body.

“He’s been like this since the beginning of the students’ lunch break,” the headmaster sympathetically informed you. “The lunch supervisors tried to comfort him but it was to no avail, so we called you.”

You turned your head to face the older man, noticing at the same time the plaque on his desk that read ‘Principal Richardson’. “You did the right thing,” you told him.

“Given the circumstances, it is more than alright if Mr. Grayson wants to go home for the afternoon,” Mr. Richardson offered.

“Do you want to go back to the manor?” You whispered the question in Dick’s ear and he nodded his head ‘yes’.

You rose up from your crouching position, Dick still hanging onto you tight like you were his lifeboat. Thank God he was a little frail since his parents’ death or you wouldn’t be able to carry the eight year old in your arms right now.

“Thank you, Mr. Richardson,” you thanked the principal and he accompanied you out of the school where one of the lunch supervisors waited at the door with Dick’s school bag and lunchbox.

You sat Dick down in his booster car seat – he was still a little too small to sit without one – and put his bags in the seat next to him before closing the door behind you.

“Please send our salutations to Mr. Wayne,” the principal told you and you shyly smiled, nodding your head one time as you sat down in the driver’s seat.

The ride back to the manor was quiet except for Dick’s sniffles as he continued crying. It broke your heart that you couldn’t just take all of his pain away. Both you and Bruce had lost your parents when you were kids, you understood the grief Dick was in just like you knew that only time will heal him.

Once you arrived home, Alfred came down the stairs to grab your bags while you carried Dick, who was back to latching onto you like a koala, in the house. You kicked off your high heels after walking through the front door and went straight to Dick’s room on the second floor.

“Let’s get you out of that uniform, how’s that sound bubs?” You softly asked him once in his bedroom.

“Okay,” Dick murmured, letting go of your neck to rub the tears away from his eyes and his cheeks.

You sat him down on his bed and turned to his drawer to pull out a pair of pyjamas. You then helped him change his clothes and once he was ready, with Zitka his elephant plushie tucked under his arm, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of his room.

“Can we make hot cocoa, please?” He looked up at you with his big blue eyes, the colour eerily the same as Bruce’s, and you simply couldn’t say no to them. Not before, not now and definitely not ever.

“Of course, bubs,” you said, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

You both made your way to the kitchen, where Alfred was doing an inventory of the dry food in the cupboards.

“Mrs. Y/N, Master Dick, can I help you with something?” He politely asked you.

“Pretend like we’re not here Alfred,” you told the butler as you helped Dick sit on the kitchen island. “We’re making hot cocoa. Do you want some?”

“You know I would never refuse a cup of your famous hot cocoa, Mrs. Y/N,” Alfred lightheartedly said and the two of you broke down in small chuckles.

“Should we also leave some for Bruce when he gets home?” You asked Dick who was now eye levelled with you from where he was perched on the kitchen island.

The little boy nodded his head ‘yes’ and you set up everything you needed to make the warm beverage, along with four coffee mugs. Dick helped you and in a matter of ten minutes, your drinks were ready.

“Come with me,” you whispered to Dick as you helped him get down from the kitchen island counter. “I have an idea of how to pass time while we wait for the hot cocoa to cool down a little.”

Dick held your hand as you made your way to the living room with the television and the comfy couches (because of course Wayne Manor had more than one living room, including ones that were more formal for the balls and galas you hosted).

“You wanna know what my brother and I used to do when one of us was feeling down?” You looked down at the small boy. He nodded his head for you to continue. “We built the biggest blanket forts that could ever be built. But I think with all the materials we have here, we can build an even bigger one. Are you in?”

You were slowly succeeding at making Dick feel better after the little episode at lunch. Grief comes and goes in waves, and his loss was still very recent. You just wanted to be there for him when the pain hits him.

Dick nodded his head, a little more excitedly this time, and the two of you set off to start building a giant blanket fort using the couch mattresses, throw pillows and blankets stored in the room. You were hanging a blanket that would be the roof while Dick held up the mattresses when Alfred brought your cups of hot cocoa to the living room, the drinks now topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. You thanked the butler and he smiled at you before he went back to the kitchen to complete his inventory, sipping his beverage along the way.

“Are you comfortable in there?” You asked Dick after a moment from the entrance of the blanket fort. He had been in charge of placing the pillows and blankets inside while you made sure the structure was stable.

“Mhm,” he positively hummed in response.

“Alright, I’m gonna give you our cups of hot cocoa then I’m gonna come in with the laptop and we can watch whatever you want,” you told him.

“Okay,” Dick said, his mood lighter.

Once the two of you were settled in the fort with your mugs, you opened the living room laptop (because of course you and Bruce had more than two laptops) and put it down between the two of you.

“So, what are we watching?” You looked at the dark haired boy to your right, waiting for his answer.

He shrugged his shoulders while drinking more of your hot cocoa. Yeah, he was gonna be a ball full of energy until way past his bedtime, but he deserved something fun and comforting. If anything, Bruce could train with him to tire him out once he was back home from work.

“Remember those songs we were listening to on the drive back from Bruce’s office last week?” You tried to jog his memory up to when you blasted Abba’s greatest hits after his first visit to Wayne Tower. You kept stealing glances in the rear view mirror the whole ride, smiling every time you saw Dick bopping his head along to the music.

The little boy nodded his head.

“Well, they made a movie where the characters are on a Greek island and sing the songs the whole time. Wanna watch that?”

Dick shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”

You grabbed the laptop and put it in your lap as you went on Netflix and searched for Mamma Mia!. Dick took the opportunity to scoot closer to you, his small body curling around your torso, and you smiled at the fact that he was more trusting and comfortable with you.

When Bruce arrived back home, he came to a stop in front of the living room with the television in it that he was only planning on passing by while he made his way towards the staircase to get to your shared bedroom. The room was disordered and more loud than it usually was at this time of the day, which is what got his attention away from his cellphone. He loosened his tie, feeling more relaxed now that his day of work as ‘Bruce Wayne, CEO’ was over, and approached the blanket fort in the middle of the room.

“What is going on in here?” He crouched down and peaked his head inside the fort.

“So when you’re near me darling, can’t you hear me? S.O.S.,” you sang instead of answering him, index finger pointing in your husband’s direction.

Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes. “You roped him into watching Mamma Mia?” He asked with a hint of a smile.

“I didn’t rope him in,” you scoffed over Pierce Brosnan’s horrible singing. “I suggested it and Dick agreed to watch it,” you sweetly grinned at Bruce.

Dick, who was still curled against you, one arm looped with yours while the other held tight onto his elephant plushie, nodded his head to back up your claim.

Bruce then noticed the two now empty mugs, clear traces of hot cocoa on them. “Did you make hot cocoa?” He perked up, now fully smiling.

“You got this little man to thank,” you pointed to Dick. “We made a cup for you, just heat it in the microwave then you can join us.”

“I’ll be right back,” Bruce said and jogged to the kitchen where a cup of your famous hot cocoa was indeed waiting for him. He was back in the living room two minutes later, shoes and blazer off, top buttons of his shirt undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, ready to relax with his family.

He handed you his cup of hot cocoa for you to hold while he made his way in the blanket fort and settled on your left since the laptop was still in your lap, hence putting you in the middle. Once next to you, Bruce pecked your lips to greet you and when Dick glanced up at him, the look in his eyes wondering if he would also receive some kind of greeting, your husband affectionately ruffled his dark hair before leaning over you to plant a kiss of the top of the little boy’s head.

Bruce then made himself comfortable, also cuddling onto you, and put his head on your shoulder, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he did so. You handed him his mug back and the three of you continued watching Mamma Mia!, much to your happiness.

Enveloped in the warmth of your two boys squishing you from both sides, you couldn’t fight off the smile that pulled on your lips. Laying under your blanket fort with your little family, it was moments like this one that made everything else worth it.

[chxnsgirl]

필릭스 ─── between heaven and you

⋆｡ ˚༘ ♫ turning page - sleeping at last

"ever since you came into my life, you taught me all about unconditional love."

♡ pairing ៸៸ angel!felix x afab!reader genre ៸៸ angst, fluff, smut ៸៸ cw ៸៸  brief mentions of sexual assault, depression, suicide attempts, drug and alcohol abuse, blood, domestic abuse (physical, verbal, and emotional), minho is an asshole (sorry), very much a slowburn (felix is YEARNING.) hyunjin is also in this fic as an angel. smut cw: loss of virginity, slightly inexperienced felix, unprotected p in v, vanilla af tbh ♡ synopsis ៸៸ after watching you struggle for so long, your guardian angel falls for you, and ends up breaking celestial laws just to be in your presence. a/n ๑ i tried a different writing style for this story, it took me about three weeks to finish. this was kind of inspired by felix's unfair mv. the concept of him as an angel suits him so well. i'll put content warnings but please read at your own risk, there will be heavy heavy topics mentioned in this fic. - mostly proofread. [ 17k words ] ㅤ ♡ masterlist

felix was there. he was always there, before you even realized it.

life hadn’t been easy for you—that much had been clear for as long as you could remember. your mother walked out of your life when you were only three, and not long after, your father succumbed to liver failure, leaving you orphaned and adrift in a world that seemed designed to crush you. without a family to hold you, to remind you that you mattered, you became just another number in the system, another child shuffled between homes like a piece of lost luggage.

your belongings were carried in a garbage bag, a cruel reminder that you were never meant to stay anywhere long enough to unpack. foster care was supposed to provide a sense of stability, but instead, it felt like a series of cold exchanges, your worth measured in paperwork and stipends.

things took a darker turn when you were placed with your first long-term foster family. at first, you thought the word "long-term" might bring relief—a chance to settle, to belong—but it quickly became a prison sentence. you realized, with bitter clarity, that "long-term" didn’t mean better; it just meant more time to endure. and endure, you did, wishing with every passing day that their home had been just another brief stop on the endless conveyor belt of placements.

the mother was controlling, piling chores onto you to the point where your schoolwork was neglected, causing you to nearly fail your first year of middle school. the father was lazy and critical, spending his evenings in a recliner with a beer in hand, quick to judge but offering no help around the house. unknown to the foster care system or the foster mother, he had a disturbing habit of sneaking into your room at night under the guise of wanting to "cuddle."

it wasn’t until he started trying to undress you that you realized this wasn’t something that was normal between fathers and daughters. 

but yet, you stayed silent. afraid of making them angry. you knew it wasn’t right, what he was doing to you, but they were giving you a home. something you had been wishing for for several years. you didn’t want to pass that up just because some gross dude lifted your nightgown for a measly 5 minutes 3 times a week. 

you stayed in that home for about 2 years until they got tired of you. finally, you were free from that prison.

however, the weight never stopped piling on top of you, the feelings never stopped rising. you didn’t realize it because you were too young, but remembering what that sick fuck did you was enough to leave you nauseous for a few days. you found yourself stuck in your head, constantly feeling his fingertips grazing your inner thigh, his mouth on yours, still smelling the faint odor of alcohol on his breath. 

you hated yourself for letting it slide. for letting him get away with it. you resented yourself for being so fucking afraid all the time. why didn’t you just speak up? why were you so fucking pathetic? the thoughts whirled in your head constantly. 

you had no idea that the flood of dark, tormenting thoughts in your mind was the reason felix came into your life. the first time he truly saved you was when you were just 14.

it was late at night, and you were alone in the bathroom you shared with three other foster girls, each of them sleeping in the room just outside. the door was locked, and your back was pressed against it, the cool wood digging into your skin as tears soaked your cheeks. your fingers trembled as they gripped the little pill bottle in your hand, eyes locked on it as your lip quivered, the weight of the moment almost unbearable. you didn’t know how much longer you could keep going.

everything in you was screaming to stop the noise inside your head, to stop the endless thoughts that tore at your mind. but there was one thing you couldn’t escape—your heart was still beating, and no matter how hard you wished for it to stop, it wouldn’t. so, with a quiet curse, you made up your mind. you were done.

the pills felt like stone as they hit your throat, each one a bitter reminder of everything that was falling apart. you gagged, struggled to swallow, but you forced them down, one after another. you locked yourself in that bathroom, barricading yourself from the world, and for what felt like an eternity, you sat there, on the edge of breaking, hoping for something—anything—to stop the pain.

only for a mere moment was the world quiet around you, the kiss of death just barely brushing your lips..

until something strange happened. it was like the very essence of life itself surged through your body, jolting you upright from where you had been slumped on the cold tile floor. the world spun out of control, and your body betrayed you in the most brutal way—it took everything you had to keep yourself upright as you lurched toward the tub. your stomach heaved violently, the contents of your body fighting against the poison you had just forced in.

sweat dripped down your face as you vomited, shaking uncontrollably, your body a hot mess of fear and desperation. it was a moment of raw panic as you realized, in the haze of your disorientation, that you were still alive. the wave of disappointment hit you like a freight train—how could you still be here? how could it not have worked? you wanted nothing more than to disappear in that moment, to fade into nothingness. 

but he was always there.

a couple of years passed, and you were adopted by a family who genuinely cared for you. they said they loved you, and you told yourself you loved them too—or at least, you thought you did. but you could never quite tell if your feelings for others were genuine or just surface-level mimicry. you heard their words of love, but you never felt it in the way people described—the flutter in your chest, the warmth in your stomach.

instead, there was only emptiness.

you had a family that cared, hot meals, a safe home. by all accounts, it should have been enough. so why wasn’t it? why did you feel a persistent ache for something more?

high school offered a temporary escape, at least for a while. you had a knack for finding trouble—running with the wrong crowd, skipping class to get high or spend hours making out with whichever guy you were dating at the time. in those moments, everything felt exhilarating. the thrill of breaking rules filled you with a rush, and being with them made you feel whole, even if only briefly.

but when you were alone, the emptiness crept back in.

in solitude, every thought became louder, every feeling sharper, relentless in their assault. the weight of it all was unbearable. whether you realized it or not, you were slowly self-destructing, losing the spark and vitality that once defined you as a child. this wasn’t the gradual "loss of innocence" that comes with growing up—it had been stolen from you. and instead of clinging to what little remained, you shoved it all away, forcing it into a dark, unrelenting void of pain and regret.

the second time felix saved you was when you were 16. 

it was a night that seemed like any other, until everything changed in an instant. you and your boyfriend had been at a party, the music loud and the laughter even louder, but the night took a turn the moment you got in the car. he had been drinking heavily. you tried to convince him to let someone else drive, but he insisted, too drunk to even form a coherent argument. you told yourself it would be fine—he was your boyfriend, and he promised he was fine to drive.

but it wasn’t fine.

the crash came so suddenly, you didn't even have time to brace yourself. the screech of tires, the sudden force of the impact—everything spun, and then there was silence.

when you opened your eyes again, the world was a blur, the harsh sound of sirens breaking through the ringing in your ears. your body was heavy, and the pain was overwhelming. you couldn’t move your arm, and it felt like you were sinking into the seat, your head throbbing with every heartbeat. you reached for it, fingers trembling, feeling blood dripping from your hairline. 

your trembling hand reached up instinctively, grasping at anything to try and level yourself while twisted in the vehicle, but it ended up brushing against something warm and wet—blood. it was everywhere. at first, you thought it was just yours, but then you looked to your side.

your boyfriend was there, slumped unnaturally in the driver’s seat. his head hung at an angle that made your stomach twist, and his chest didn’t rise. his face, once so familiar and full of life, was pale and lifeless. for a moment, the world stood still as your mind grappled with the impossible reality in front of you.

you called his name, your voice barely more than a croak, but there was no response. the quiet was suffocating. hot tears blurred your vision as panic overtook you. you reached for him, shaking him, begging him to wake up, but it was no use.

the realization hit you like a cold wave, and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t process the weight of it. 

at that moment, the pain in your body was nothing compared to the weight in your chest. the boy you thought you’d share so many tomorrows with was gone, and you were left drowning in the wreckage of a life that would never be the same.

it was then that you felt it—the presence of someone, something, familiar but impossible to explain. there was a warmth, a sense of calm in the chaos. the sound of voices in the distance didn’t seem so muffled anymore. you could hear the paramedics, shouting instructions, but you felt... distant, almost like you were floating outside of your own body.

“stay with me,” someone was saying, but it wasn’t the paramedics.

“i’m here. you’re going to be okay,” a deep, yet soft male voice rang. the words weren’t loud, they weren’t even clear, but they were enough to settle you, just enough to make the panic simmer down into something manageable. you had no idea how it got there, but the voice was a tether.

you tried to respond, tried to speak, but your body wasn’t cooperating. the world seemed to shift and swirl again, and then you were in an ambulance, being rushed to the hospital.

the moments after the crash were a blur of bright hospital lights, sterile smells, and the constant beeping of machines around you. 

the doctor had placed you into a medically induced coma due to the amount of drugs and alcohol in your system, as well as your severe brain injury. it took some time for your family to arrive at the hospital, but felix stayed with you. he was by your side the whole time you lay there. 

later on, your eyelids fluttered open, your lashes brushing against the dryness of your skin, and it took a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the harsh white light above you. blinking slowly, you tried to clear the fog in your mind, forcing your surroundings into focus. 

beside your bed, there was a chair. empty. the sight of it hit you like a wave of loneliness. your mind raced. had someone been sitting there? had someone been waiting for you to wake up?

before you could let yourself fall into the quiet despair of it, something caught your eye—a flash of movement. at first, you weren’t sure if it was real or just a trick of your disoriented mind, but there it was again. a figure. a blonde figure dressed all in white, moving swiftly past the door and out of the room.

your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat. it happened so quickly, you didn’t even have time to process it fully. just a flicker of someone in white, someone you couldn’t place, and then they were gone, disappearing down the hallway like a phantom.

you tried to call out, tried to move, but your body refused to cooperate. you were too weak, too broken, too tethered to the machines that kept you alive. who had that been? was it someone you knew?

but before you could think any more about it, the pain returned, sharp and immediate, and all you could do was close your eyes, hoping for a moment of peace. even as your mind raced, as uncertainty flooded you, you couldn’t shake the thoughts, your mind wondering if what you saw was real or just a hallucination from your drugged-up state. 

felix spent countless hours studying you, observing the subtle ways you shifted in your sleep, the way your body would tense when you were about to face the next wave of agony. he wasn’t supposed to be so emotionally attached, not in the way he found himself. angels were meant to be impartial, neutral—protective, but not emotionally involved. and yet, as time went on, felix found himself more and more drawn to you, his gaze lingering longer than necessary, his thoughts turning to you even when he wasn’t near. it was a kind of fascination, but it was also something deeper, something he hadn’t experienced before.

it always pained felix to watch you struggle. it was his job, of course, as your guardian angel, but that didn’t necessarily mean he liked it. his role was simple, or so it was supposed to be—guide, protect, watch over you—but there were moments when it felt like a weight he could barely carry. watching you hurt, seeing the toll life had taken on you, it gnawed at him in ways he couldn’t quite explain. it wasn’t just about keeping you safe; it was about witnessing your inner turmoil, the pain you couldn’t escape, and knowing he could never truly take it away. he could intervene, sure, but only so much.

he became fond of you. at first, it was a quiet awareness—a soft sadness in his chest when he saw your tears, a feeling of helplessness when he couldn’t stop you from making the same painful decisions over and over again. but it grew. he watched how you pushed through your struggles, how you fought to keep living despite everything that weighed you down. there was a quiet strength in you, an undeniable resilience that made him both proud and heartsick.

sometimes, when you were at your lowest, felix would find himself feeling your pain. it wasn’t just an awareness, it was a visceral ache that seemed to pulse through him as if your suffering was his own. and that was strange. he wasn’t supposed to feel anything—least of all the sharp, gut-wrenching pain that you carried with you. angels were above human emotion; they were supposed to observe, not participate. but there it was. he would feel your despair, the weight of your grief, the crushing exhaustion in your heart as if it were his own.

he’d try to push it away, to block it out, but it lingered. it was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

after the accident, he had watched you slip into that coma, felt the void of your absence, and during the time you were unconscious, it was like a part of him had gone with you. the pain he felt as you fought to survive, the pull of your fragile life, had him teetering on the edge of something unfamiliar. he wasn’t supposed to care this much. he wasn’t supposed to let himself be moved by your suffering. but he was. and it terrified him.

felix could barely stand it. he was so close, so close to you, but always just out of reach. he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t make you understand that he was there. he had to stay hidden, an invisible force in the shadows. it was one of the many rules he was tasked to follow.

but he was there. and he was watching, as he always did. every time you moved, every time you cried out, his heart cracked just a little more. there were moments when he wished he could reach out, hold you, tell you it would be okay. but he couldn’t. his purpose was to guide you, not to console you the way a person could. and yet, he longed to.

it was strange. it was almost as if, in trying to save you from the darkness, he was losing himself in the process.

he was supposed to help you without complications. but oh boy, did it become complicated. 

“why do you seem down?” hyunjin asked felix, his shoes clacking against the marble floor of felix’s room. felix lay on his sofa, deep in thought. it took him a few seconds to finally answer. “she’s not doing well again,” he said lowly, the sound of sadness apparent in his tone. hyunjin walked over and sat next to him, letting out a soft sigh. “the same stuff?” he asked, referring to your depression. 

felix just hummed in response and nodded, laying his head back down as he stared off into space. “i can't do anything to help her.” he muttered eventually, disappointment in his tone. 

hyunjin studied felix quietly, his own expression a mixture of concern and confusion. angels weren’t supposed to form such deep attachments. they were guides, protectors—meant to observe and intervene only when absolutely necessary. but felix... felix was different.

"you care about her more than any angel i’ve ever seen care for their human," hyunjin said softly, his voice tinged with a cautious curiosity. "it’s not... wrong, exactly, but it’s not normal either."

felix didn’t respond right away. his gaze was distant, locked somewhere far beyond the room they were in. finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper."she’s been through so much, hyunjin. more than anyone should ever have to endure. and she keeps going, even when it feels like the world is crushing her. but it’s wearing her down. i can see it in her eyes, hear it in her thoughts."

hyunjin frowned, leaning back on the sofa. "you’ve saved her before. more than once. isn’t that enough? isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? intervene when necessary and then... let go?"

felix sat up abruptly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "let go? how can i let go when every time i turn my back, she’s falling deeper into the darkness? i can feel her pain, hyunjin. it’s like it’s… carved into my being."

hyunjin tilted his head, watching his friend carefully. "you’re more human than you think, felix," he said quietly, almost to himself.

felix’s head snapped toward him, his expression a mix of surprise and defiance. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," hyunjin continued calmly, "that maybe you care so deeply because you understand her in a way most angels don’t. you don’t just see her struggles—you feel them. that connection... it’s rare, felix. but it’s also dangerous."

felix looked away, his jaw tightening. he knew hyunjin was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. "i just want her to be happy," he said finally, his voice breaking slightly. "i don’t care if it’s dangerous or rare or whatever else you want to call it. i just can’t stand to see her like this."

hyunjin reached out, placing a hand on felix’s shoulder. "maybe it’s time to think about what she really needs. sometimes, saving someone doesn’t mean fixing everything for them. it means being there, quietly, in the background, until they find their own strength."

felix sighed, his shoulders slumping under the weight of hyunjin’s words. he didn’t know if he could do that—if he could stand by and watch you struggle, hoping you’d pull through on your own. he had been waiting several years for this, for you to come to, for you to get better. it didn’t seem achievable because of how much you were obviously hurting still. 

but deep down, he knew hyunjin had a point.

all he could do was stay close and hope his presence, even unseen, would make a difference.

a few more months passed, and felix found himself at his breaking point. watching you spiral further into despair was more than he could bear. he had always been bound by the sacred rules of his kind. yet, with every passing day, those rules felt like chains, holding him back from giving you the comfort and hope you so desperately needed.

he began to push the boundaries, leaving subtle signs of his presence. a faint warmth brushing your skin during your loneliest nights, the sudden scent of vanilla randomly wafting through your room–his signature scent.. or the soft flutter of a breeze indoors when no windows were open. felix hoped these tiny gestures would remind you that you weren’t alone, that someone was watching over you. sometimes you’d swear you’d wake up in the middle of the night, feeling eyes on you in your bedroom.

but he knew he was treading dangerous ground. revealing himself to the living, even indirectly, was a direct violation of celestial law. angels were forbidden from crossing into the mortal plane unless absolutely necessary—and certainly not for personal reasons. every time he bent the rules, felix felt the weight of disapproval from the higher realms, but he didn’t care.

all he cared about was you.

eventually, felix realized that his subtle gestures weren’t enough to ease your suffering. the flickers of warmth, the faint scents, and the soft breezes weren’t making the impact he hoped for. so, he made the decision to go further, breaking the rules more boldly than ever before.

what started as occasional visits to watch over you as you slept turned into a nightly ritual. every night, without fail, felix would enter your room, his presence unseen, and settle himself beside you on the bed. he would sit propped against the headboard, his fingers brushing gently through your hair in soothing strokes. this was the only time he saw you truly at peace—your expression free of the sadness that weighed you down during your waking hours. your mind was finally quiet, your face soft and serene, and seeing you like this brought felix a strange sense of solace.

he didn’t feel out of place lying beside you. on the contrary, it comforted him to know that, even if you couldn’t feel his presence, he was there for you during your most vulnerable moments. but simply being there wasn’t enough for him. he wanted you to know you weren’t alone, even if you didn’t understand the source.

so, he started leaving a single white rose in your apartment, always in a spot he knew you’d notice. the first time you found one, you panicked. your thoughts immediately jumped to the idea of a stalker. it would explain the strange sensation you sometimes felt while sleeping, as though someone was watching over you. but no one had a key to your apartment, and you were sure you hadn’t misplaced a spare. there were no signs of forced entry, no broken locks or jimmied windows. and living on the tenth floor of a building without a balcony made the idea of anyone sneaking in seem impossible.

yet, every wednesday, like clockwork, the roses appeared. each time you came home from work, you found one waiting for you—sometimes placed carefully on your pillow, other times resting on the kitchen counter where you always dropped your keys.

the mystery of the roses consumed your thoughts. you couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of being watched, but at the same time, something about the gesture felt... kind. even as the fear lingered, you couldn’t deny the strange comfort the flowers brought, like a small, silent promise that someone cared. 

you’d sit for hours, turning the possibilities over and over in your mind, desperate for an explanation. the only theory that felt remotely plausible was that it might be a deceased family member—perhaps your father—reaching out to you from beyond. maybe he was watching over you, leaving these gifts as a sign of his presence.

but even that felt like a stretch. you’d never been one to believe in the supernatural. ghosts, spirits, angels—it all seemed too far-fetched. yet, the roses told a different story. they appeared in your locked apartment without any logical explanation, and the sheer impossibility of it all began to chip away at your skepticism.

the more you thought about it, the more your disbelief wavered. you still couldn’t bring yourself to fully accept the idea of something otherworldly, but a small part of you began to wonder: what if there was more to this world than you’d always believed?

it wasn’t until a little later into your adulthood that felix fell for you. he fell for you in a way that was more than he ever thought possible, a deep, unshakable kind of love that bloomed quietly in the recesses of his heart. it wasn’t sudden—it was a slow, inevitable tide, creeping up on him as he spent day after day watching over you, silently observing the subtle shifts in your life, the quiet struggles you faced, and the moments of fleeting joy that seemed to light up your world in spite of it all.

the more he watched you, the more deeply he felt connected to you. he could see the way you smiled when you thought no one was looking, the way your eyes shimmered with a mix of hope and pain, and how you carried your burdens with such quiet strength. he admired your resilience, but it tore at him too. each time he saw you frown in frustration or collapse into exhaustion after a long day, it felt like a jagged piece of glass scraping against his soul. the desire to be close to you—to be there for you—burned inside him like wildfire, something so powerful and raw, he couldn’t contain it.

felix found himself drawn to you in a way he couldn’t explain. he watched you laugh with your friends, saw you comfort a stranger, witnessed the quiet moments when you thought no one cared. and in every one of those moments, his heart ached. it ached because he longed to be the one to make you smile, to ease the weight on your shoulders, to tell you that he understood in ways no one else could. he wanted to be the one who held you when the world felt too heavy, who whispered comforting words when you couldn’t find any of your own.

he wanted—no, needed—to talk to you. to introduce himself, to somehow, impossibly, let you know that he knew you better than anyone else ever could. he knew your scars, your fears, your dreams. he had watched you grow, silently and from a distance, always just out of reach. and every part of him screamed to speak, to tell you everything he had seen and felt as he quietly admired the person you had become. every thought he had about you, every observation, every small detail, every fleeting moment, was carved into his soul.

but as much as he wanted that, he knew he couldn’t. he wasn’t supposed to be here, to be seen by you. he was bound by laws that held him away, that kept him a silent observer, a watcher in the dark. his love for you—his desperate, consuming love for you—was forbidden. and yet, it consumed him more than anything else. he ached with the overwhelming need to be near you, to somehow make you feel what he felt, to break the invisible barrier that kept him at arm’s length.

felix would continue to visit at night, his form hidden in the shadows of your room, listening to your breathing, watching your peaceful face as you slept. he would run his fingers through your hair, wishing he could tell you everything. he would hold his breath, praying you would stir, that maybe, just maybe, you would feel him there, his presence lingering like a soft touch, a whispered promise. the thought that you might never know how deeply he loved you—it was unbearable.

felix wanted so badly to be noticed, to have you turn and see him. he wanted you to know, not just that he existed, but that he had been there all along, watching over you, loving you from afar. he wasn’t some fleeting presence, some passing moment. he was here. he had always been here. and all he wanted was for you to know that.

god, he loved you so fucking much. in a way that was all-consuming, in a way that made every moment of separation feel like a quiet ache in the deepest parts of him. he loved you in a way that was both impossible and undeniable. and it terrified him, because he knew he could never have you—not truly. he could only watch. and in doing so, he was bound by something even greater than the laws that kept him from you. he was bound by the love he could never express, the feelings he could never act upon.

and that was the cruelest part of it all—he loved you more than anything, but he could never truly have you.

felix leaned against the door of his home in the astral plane, his body feeling as though it was made of stone, weighed down by the crushing pressure of what had just transpired. his mind was a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts, still reeling from the conversation he had mere moments ago. the higher realms had caught on to his increasingly reckless behavior. he had always known there would be consequences, but hearing the words from the voices of the celestial council made the reality of it all hit him like a bolt of lightning.

a warning, they had said. a warning that if he continued this way—if he kept breaking laws, bending the rules, and daring to reveal himself to the mortal world—he would be cast out. disowned. stripped of everything he had ever known. his immortality would be taken from him, and the wings that had always been a part of him, the wings that had given him his identity, would be severed. he would be cast into the human world, forced to live among those he had been forbidden to touch, to exist as one of them—fragile, finite, and utterly alone.

felix’s chest tightened as the weight of their decree settled over him. he was horrified, and in the pit of his stomach, he felt a deep, aching sense of loss. the thought of being cast down, of losing the eternity that had once defined him, gnawed at him. he had existed for so long in the celestial realms, watching over worlds, knowing his place, and now that place felt as though it was slipping away from him, just as quickly as his heart had fallen for you.

he didn’t want to stop seeing you. he didn’t want to stop visiting you, to stop offering you the comfort he could give from the shadows. the mere thought of no longer being able to watch you, no longer being able to quietly support you from the distance he had grown to cherish, felt like an ache so deep, it was like his very soul had been torn in two.

but at the same time, felix was terrified. terrified of what it would mean if he allowed himself to follow this path, if he let his emotions run wild, if he dared to embrace this connection he had with you. to lose his place among the celestial beings, to lose the very essence of who he was, the very reason he existed—it was too much to bear.

he closed his eyes, gripping the edge of the door as though it might anchor him in the reality he so desperately wanted to hold onto. his heart raced, torn between two worlds—his love for you, and the celestial duty that had once defined his every action. the love he felt for you was dangerous, forbidden, but it was real. the kind of love that carved deep into his chest, raw and desperate, a love that made him question everything he had ever known about his purpose. but was it worth losing everything? was it worth abandoning the very thing that had given his life meaning—his immortality, his place among the divine?

felix didn’t know. he didn’t know if he could make that choice.

all he knew was that the fear of losing you—of being cast away, disowned—was as terrifying as the thought of losing himself.

felix found a small measure of peace when you started dating someone—a coworker named minho. though it pained him to see you with someone else, the thought of minho being there for you when felix couldn’t brought him some comfort. from what felix observed, minho was kind and attentive, and that was enough to keep felix at ease, even if it hurt to stay in the background.

still, felix couldn’t bring himself to leave entirely. he continued to watch over you, always vigilant, ensuring that minho treated you the way you deserved. 

but something shifted in your world, something that didn’t escape your notice. once minho entered your life, the roses stopped appearing in your apartment. at first, you didn’t think much of it, but as the weeks went by without a single flower, a strange pang of disappointment settled in your chest.

you hadn’t realized how much you’d grown attached to the mysterious gifts until they were gone. you had even gone out of your way to display them in a vase, replacing the wilted roses with fresh ones every week, as if honoring the unseen hand that left them. the absence felt odd, almost unsettling.

it didn’t take long for the thought to creep back into your mind: what if it really had been a stalker? but you dismissed it just as quickly as it came. there were no signs of forced entry, no evidence to support the idea. and besides, minho was with you now. if something truly dangerous were happening, surely he would have noticed too.

still, the timing nagged at you. the roses had stopped the moment minho came into your life. was it just a coincidence, or was there more to it? you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d lost something special—something silent and unseen, but deeply meaningful.

as your relationship with minho deepened, felix began to notice troubling changes in his behavior. at first, it was subtle—offhand remarks about the way you did things or minor criticisms disguised as jokes. but over time, those comments grew sharper, more frequent, and far harder to ignore. minho started nitpicking every little thing you did, blaming you for even the smallest mistakes, and turning minor missteps into significant issues.

it didn’t take long for felix to piece together the truth: minho was a narcissist, and worse, an abusive one. his behavior escalated rapidly. the once seemingly harmless complaints turned into outright yelling. he began getting in your face during arguments, his voice laced with venom, his demeanor intimidating. felix watched helplessly as minho’s anger grew darker, his threats becoming more pointed.

the shift terrified felix. there were moments when minho’s fury burned so hot that felix feared he might follow through on his threats. each time minho’s hand twitched or his voice reached a dangerous pitch, felix braced himself, sick with worry that this time, it wouldn’t stop at words.

countless nights, felix lingered nearby, his unseen presence heavy with fear and frustration. the thought of you being seriously hurt haunted him. despite his duty to remain in the background, every fiber of his being screamed to intervene, to shield you from the storm brewing in your own home. 

as your relationship with minho continued and his behavior spiraled further into toxicity, you began to notice something strange: the inexplicable occurrences in your apartment had returned. the faint, sweet scent of vanilla began lingering in the air once more, subtle yet unmistakable. it crept into your senses at odd times, reminding you of a feeling you hadn’t experienced in months.

even more unsettling was the distinct sensation of being watched while you slept—something you’d felt before but had long since faded when minho entered your life. it was subtle at first, a gentle prickling at the back of your neck or the softest shift in the room’s energy. unlike most people, who might have been terrified by the idea of an unseen presence in their home, you felt an odd sense of comfort.

this wasn’t the unease of being stalked or the fear of danger. it was familiar, almost nostalgic, as though the presence itself carried a quiet reassurance. it reminded you of nights when you used to feel a strange sort of peace in your solitude, a solace that had seemed to vanish when minho came into your life.

you came home late wednesday night to find minho sitting at the kitchen island, his posture rigid and his expression already clouded with annoyance and barely concealed anger. you sighed inwardly, bracing yourself for yet another confrontation and wondering what you could have possibly done this time to provoke his ire.

before you could speak, your eyes fell on the white rose lying on the counter in front of him. your breath hitched, and your heartbeat quickened as unease settled deep in your chest. you had a feeling you knew exactly where this was going, but you forced yourself to play dumb, hoping to defuse whatever storm was brewing.

“what’s that?” you asked cautiously, your gaze darting between the rose and minho’s piercing glare.

he let out a humorless chuckle and lifted his head to meet your eyes. “you’re asking me?” he said, his voice calm but laced with an edge that sent chills down your spine.

you swallowed hard, struggling to steady your hands as you fidgeted with your fingers. “i don’t know. i didn’t—”

“come on, y/n,” he interrupted, his tone dripping with condescension. “i’m not stupid. i didn’t give this to you, so who did?” his voice was eerily calm, but his expression betrayed his barely contained fury, which was far more unsettling than when he was openly yelling.

“i-i don’t know, i swear,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you searched his face for any sign of reason.

minho’s jaw tightened, and his fist slammed against the counter, the sharp sound making you flinch. he stood abruptly, towering over you as his eyes narrowed. “bullshit. you got it from a guy. who is he? do i know him?”

“no, minho! i haven’t talked to any guys today!” you cried, your voice rising in desperation as your body began to shake.

“you’re lying,” he hissed, his gaze unwavering and his presence suffocating. he reached for the rose, running his fingers along the delicate petals as though mocking its fragility.

“i’m not,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

minho studied you for a moment, the silence stretching into something unbearable. then, with a sudden burst of violence, he clenched the rose in his fist, ripping the petals from the stem and scattering them across the counter. “clean this shit up. i don’t want to see any more flowers around here,” he snarled before shoving past you and storming toward the hallway.

something inside you snapped. “no,” you said firmly, the word escaping your lips before you could stop yourself.

minho froze mid-step, turning slowly to face you with a mixture of shock and fury. “what did you just say?” he asked, his tone low and dangerous.

“i said no,” you repeated, your voice steady despite the fear twisting in your stomach. you stood your ground, glaring at him with a defiance you didn’t know you possessed.

his surprise faded quickly, replaced by a dark, menacing rage. in an instant, he closed the distance between you, raising his hand and striking you across the face. the sharp sound of the slap echoed through the room, and the sting of his palm seared into your cheek.

before you could even process the pain, a loud crash shattered the tense silence. both of you turned toward the counter, where shards of glass from the vase that once held your white roses lay scattered. the vase had shattered violently, though neither you nor minho had touched it, and you were both too far away for it to have been accidental.

minho stared at the broken glass, his face contorting in confusion and unease. for the first time, you saw a flicker of something unfamiliar in his eyes—fear. and for a brief moment, it felt like the air in the room had shifted, heavy with something unexplainable, something beyond either of your control. 

“get the fuck out,” you spat, your voice trembling with both rage and sorrow as you shoved minho away from you. your lip quivered, and your heart pounded in your chest. he stumbled backward, his usual composure shattered as he stammered, trying to piece together words to defend himself.

“out!” you screamed, your voice breaking as tears began streaming uncontrollably down your face. you clutched your stinging cheek with one hand, the pain of his slap mingling with the ache in your chest.

minho hesitated, his face flickering with disbelief and hesitation, but eventually, he relented. grumbling under his breath, he grabbed his things and left, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed through your apartment.

the silence that followed was suffocating, oppressive in its stillness. you stood frozen for a moment, staring at the broken glass scattered across your kitchen floor. your legs gave out beneath you, and you plopped onto the cold tile, your back pressed against the refrigerator as a sob wracked through your body.

you cried harder than you had in months, your tears falling freely as every ounce of frustration, anger, and pain came pouring out. you were furious—with minho, with yourself, with the cycle you seemed unable to break. why had you let it get this far? why did you allow another man to mistreat you, just because you were terrified of being alone again?

the realization cut deeply, leaving you raw and exposed. you told yourself then and there that you were done. done with minho, done with letting people like him have power over you. and this time, you meant it.

true to your resolve, minho didn’t bother you again. after a week of silence, it was clear that he wasn’t coming back, and for that, you were relieved. but relief didn’t erase the damage he had done.

in the aftermath of the breakup, you found yourself slipping back into the darkness you thought you had left behind. nights were the hardest. some, you spent curled up in bed, crying until exhaustion finally claimed you. others, you lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling as the all-too-familiar numbness crept over you, settling into your chest like an unwelcome guest.

the emptiness was back, deeper and more consuming than ever. it felt like your heart was a hollow shell, incapable of feeling anything but the ache of its own vacancy. and as the days blurred into weeks, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all you were destined for—cycles of pain, brief reprieves, and an ever-present void you could never seem to fill. 

one night, as you drifted off to sleep, your dream took an unusual turn. in the depths of slumber, you saw flashes of golden blonde hair and a face so captivating it felt almost otherworldly. he had plump, soft lips, a delicate button nose, and a constellation of freckles scattered across his skin. his presence was magnetic, his beauty striking yet gentle.

at first, the dream was fleeting—a quick glimpse of him before the scene shifted into the usual randomness of your subconscious. but as the nights went on, he began appearing more frequently. his visits weren’t long, just brief moments where you saw his face, a sense of comfort and calm washing over you before he would vanish again into the recesses of your mind.

though you never spoke to him, you could feel him there. his presence was undeniable, and oddly familiar, as though you knew him from somewhere. the more you dreamed of him, the more he felt like a guardian, someone watching over you from the shadows.

what you didn’t realize was that this wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. it was felix. after weeks of struggling to find ways to be closer to you without breaking the celestial rules, he decided to take a different approach.

he was hesitant at first, unsure if entering your dreams would be too bold, too much of a risk. but he couldn’t stay away. the idea of reaching you in this subtle, intangible way felt like the perfect compromise—a chance to be near you without disrupting the delicate balance of your reality.

so, he appeared to you in fragments, carefully choosing each moment. the dreams were his way of offering comfort, a gentle reminder of his presence, even if you couldn’t fully understand what it meant yet. to felix, it was enough to know he was there for you, even if only in the quiet hours of the night.

the dream started like many others—hazy and indistinct, with colors blending together in a soft, swirling mist. you were standing in a field bathed in moonlight, the grass cool beneath your bare feet. a gentle breeze carried the scent of vanilla, a fragrance that had lingered faintly in your waking hours.

and then, you saw him.

he emerged from the mist like a figure out of a painting, his golden hair glowing faintly in the silver light. his face, with its constellation of freckles and gentle, piercing eyes, was heartbreakingly beautiful. he stopped a few paces away, his gaze locked on yours. for a moment, neither of you spoke. the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but charged with something unspoken—something familiar yet strange.

"who are you?" you asked finally, your voice trembling as if afraid to break the spell. his lips curled into a soft smile, and he tilted his head slightly. "you already know me," he said, his voice like a melody, soothing and warm. your brows knitted together, confusion flickering across your face. "i don’t think i do."

"you’ve felt me," he said gently, taking a cautious step closer. "in the quiet moments. when you’ve been at your lowest. i’ve been there." the realization hit you like a wave, a shiver running down your spine. "the roses..."

he nodded, his expression tender yet tinged with sadness. "i didn’t mean to frighten you. i only wanted you to know you weren’t alone."

"but why? why me?" you whispered, a lump forming in your throat.

his gaze softened further, and he crouched slightly to meet your eyes more closely. "because i care about you more than you’ll ever know. i’ve watched over you, protected you, even when you didn’t know i was there." 

your breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. "are you... an angel?"

felix hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. "yes. and breaking every rule to talk to you like this."

"why now?"

"because i can’t bear to see you in pain anymore," he admitted, his voice cracking just slightly. "you’ve been through so much, and i... i couldn’t stay silent any longer."

tears welled in your eyes as you took a step closer, your hand reaching out instinctively. he didn’t pull away, but you hesitated, your fingers hovering just above his. "this doesn’t feel real," you murmured.

"but it is," he assured you, his voice firm yet gentle. "i’ll be here as long as you need me, whether you see me or not."

the dream began to blur around the edges, the mist creeping back in. "wait," you pleaded, your voice tinged with desperation. "will i see you again?"

felix smiled softly, his golden hair shimmering in the fading light. "always."

and then he was gone, leaving only his signature scent and the lingering warmth of his presence behind as you woke, tears still fresh on your cheeks. 

“you did what?” hyunjin asked felix, surprise evident on his expression. felix bit the inside of his cheek before he quietly repeated himself. “i.. visited her in her dream.” he mumbled. 

hyunjin stared at felix, his eyes wide as he leaned against the railing of their astral plane. the soft glow of their surroundings illuminated the disbelief on his face. "you visited her in her dream," he repeated slowly, as if trying to process the gravity of felix's words.

felix nodded, looking away. "i couldn’t just watch her suffer anymore. she needed to know she wasn’t alone."

hyunjin ran a hand through his dark hair, letting out a sharp exhale. "do you have any idea how reckless that was? visiting the living in their dreams might not be as bad as full manifestation, but it’s still breaking the rules."

felix’s gaze hardened, his usual softness replaced with a rare defiance. "i don’t care about the rules anymore, hyunjin. they don’t help her. she’s falling apart, and i can’t just stand by and do nothing."

hyunjin crossed his arms, his expression shifting from surprise to concern. "i get it, felix, i do. but you’ve been walking a thin line for a while now. leaving roses, lingering in her presence... do you really think the higher-ups won’t notice?"

felix clenched his fists at his sides. "let them notice. let them punish me if they want. but i won’t regret it. not for her."

hyunjin softened at felix's conviction, his features losing their edge. "you really care about her, don’t you?"

felix’s eyes glistened as he nodded. "more than anything. she’s been through so much, hyunjin. no one deserves that kind of pain. if i can be the one thing that brings her some comfort, i’ll take any punishment that comes my way."

hyunjin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "you’re not going to stop, are you?"

"no," felix said firmly, his voice steady despite the weight of his words.

there was a moment of silence as hyunjin studied his friend, his lips pressed into a thin line. finally, he relented with a small shake of his head. "alright. if you’re going to keep doing this, at least let me help you cover your tracks. if they find out what you’re doing, it won’t just be a slap on the wrist, felix. it’ll be exile—or worse."

felix’s eyes widened in surprise, gratitude quickly replacing the shock. "hyunjin, you don’t have to—"

"i know i don’t have to," hyunjin interrupted, his tone sharp. "but you’re my friend, and i’m not about to let you face this alone."

felix smiled faintly, the weight on his shoulders feeling just a little lighter. "thank you."

hyunjin sighed again, this time with a hint of exasperation. "don’t thank me yet. i’m not sure what kind of mess we’re getting into, but i have a feeling it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better."

felix’s smile didn’t waver. "it’ll be worth it."

hyunjin shook his head with a wry smile, muttering under his breath. "you’re hopeless."

but despite his grumbling, he didn’t leave felix’s side. if felix was going to fight for you, hyunjin would make sure he didn’t do it alone.

the dreams for the next few nights unfolded as they always had—flickers of unspoken moments and hazy images that faded like sand slipping through your fingers. but this night was different.

the air around you shifted as the dream took form. you were no longer in a familiar place but somewhere entirely foreign and breathtaking. marble floors stretched endlessly beneath your bare feet, their white, polished surface reflecting soft, golden light from above. the room seemed to glow, not harshly, but with a serene brightness that made you feel weightless.

and then there was the scent—vanilla, rich and warm, filling the air like an embrace. it washed over you, soothing every frayed nerve and quieting the lingering chaos in your mind.

before you could fully process the setting, he appeared.

felix stepped out of the light as though it had created him, his form entirely whole this time. his white tunic draped elegantly over his lean frame, the fabric flowing as if it were alive. his blonde hair, wavy and radiant, seemed to catch the ambient glow, each strand moving with an ethereal lightness. but it was his face—those delicate features, framed by a constellation of freckles, and eyes that held galaxies—that truly caught your breath.

you couldn’t look away.

the space between you and felix was vast, yet he began to close the distance, his steps slow and deliberate, as though each one was meant to reassure you. his gaze, warm and unwavering, never left yours.

your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a mix of confusion, awe, and an unexplainable comfort. "you’re back," you whispered, your voice trembling but filled with a strange relief.

felix’s lips curved into a gentle smile, and as he stopped a few feet away, his presence felt like the missing piece of a puzzle you hadn’t realized you were trying to solve.

"i promised i would be," he said softly, his voice carrying the same calming warmth as the vanilla in the air.

the marble beneath your feet felt cool, grounding you as you tried to steady your breathing. "where are we? what is this place?"

felix glanced around, his expression serene yet thoughtful. "a reflection of the in-between. it’s not quite your world, not quite mine."

you frowned slightly, tilting your head. "why are we here?"

his gaze softened further, and he took another cautious step toward you, his hands loosely clasped in front of him. "because. i needed to see you again."

your breath hitched, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the dreamlike quality of the moment. "this feels... so real," you murmured, reaching out instinctively, though you stopped short of touching him.

"it is," felix replied, his voice a quiet assurance. "as real as it can be."

you hesitated for a moment, staring at his outstretched hand. it was so close, yet it felt like reaching for something impossibly distant. your heart raced as you extended your trembling hand toward him once more.

“can i... touch you?” you asked again, your voice quieter this time, as if afraid he might vanish if you spoke too loudly.

felix’s expression softened further, his lips curving into a smile so warm it felt like sunlight breaking through a storm. “you can,” he said, his voice gentle, almost reverent.

you reached out, and when your fingers met his, a jolt of warmth spread through you like ripples in still water. his skin wasn’t just soft—it was otherworldly, as if every molecule hummed with energy, radiating life and something deeper, something unnameable.

you gasped softly at the sensation, your fingertips brushing along the back of his hand. “it’s like… you’re made of light,” you murmured, your voice filled with awe.

felix chuckled softly, the sound low and soothing. “in a way, i suppose i am,” he replied, his thumb lightly brushing against your knuckles. “but what matters is that i’m here. with you.”

the weight of his words hit you, and your breath caught in your throat. you looked up at him, your eyes searching his for answers. “why are you doing this?”

his expression became more serious, though his touch remained tender. “because you deserve to feel loved, to feel cared for. you’ve been carrying so much for so long, and i couldn’t stand to see you bear it alone.”

your lips quivered, and tears began to well in your eyes. you fought them back, but the sheer kindness in his words made it impossible. “i don’t understand,” you whispered, shaking your head slightly. “why me? i’m nobody special.”

felix’s dark eyes softened even further, and he took a small step closer, his presence as overwhelming as it was comforting. “you are special,” he said firmly, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “you’ve survived so much, endured what most wouldn’t. you have a strength you don’t even realize.”

the tears spilled over then, and he reached out to gently brush them away, his touch featherlight. “you don’t have to do it alone anymore,” he said, his voice a vow. “i’m here. for as long as you’ll let me be.”

you stared at him, your heart swelling with emotions you hadn’t felt in years. gratitude. hope. maybe even something more.

but before you could speak, the dream began to shift, the bright marble surroundings fading into soft mist. you panicked, reaching for him as the world around you dissolved.

“felix, wait—don’t go!” you cried, desperation in your voice.

he cupped your face in his hands, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made the fading dream still for a moment. “i’m never far,” he promised, his voice steady and unshakable. “call for me, and i’ll come.”

and then he was gone.  you woke up clutching your hand to your chest, as if trying to hold onto the feeling of him for just a little longer.

the memory of his words and his touch stayed with you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe—just maybe—things could get better.

you found yourself spending more and more time with felix in your dreams, sharing conversations that ranged from the mundane to the profound. each night felt like peeling back another layer of his essence, and the bond between you deepened in ways you never imagined possible. he spoke to you with a sincerity that left you feeling safe and cherished, sharing stories of his watchful presence over the years, recounting moments when he had intervened in unseen ways to keep you safe. the weight of knowing just how much he had done for you was both humbling and overwhelming.

the concept of a guardian angel was still difficult for you to wrap your mind around—an ethereal being solely dedicated to protecting you. but even harder to believe was the fact that felix was yours. all yours.

felix never outright told you how much he cared for you, though you began to sense it in the way his gaze lingered, in the warmth of his words, and in the gentle way he reached out to comfort you. he held himself back, aware of your past pain, and was careful to move at a pace that respected your healing. he wanted to be patient, to give you all the time you needed, even as his feelings for you grew with each passing moment.

what he didn’t know was that you were falling for him just as quickly. the connection between you felt as natural as breathing, as though the universe itself had woven your fates together. the once-dreamlike visits began to feel more vivid and tangible, as if the line between the dream world and reality was slowly blurring.

by the time a month had passed, seeing him each night had become as natural as the sun setting. you found yourself eagerly anticipating the moment you would drift off to sleep, knowing he would be there waiting for you, his presence offering you a kind of solace you hadn’t felt in years. it was no longer just a dream; it was a sanctuary. a place where you could be yourself, free from judgment, and bask in the warmth of someone who truly cared.

of course, it didn’t last. how could it? luck had never been on your side, and this fleeting comfort seemed no different. without warning, felix was gone. the dreams you once eagerly anticipated were now nothing but empty darkness, leaving you tossing and turning in your bed, haunted by the void his absence created. you replayed your last conversation over and over in your mind, searching for any clue, any indication of what might have gone wrong. everything had seemed so normal—he was attentive, warm, and genuinely happy to be with you. there was no sign that anything was amiss.

the silence left you with nothing but questions. had you said something to offend him? had he grown tired of you? the thought gnawed at you, stirring feelings of abandonment and self-doubt. yet, what you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that felix hadn’t chosen to leave. felix had gotten into trouble. big trouble.

far away from the sanctuary of your dreams, felix stood before the higher celestial realms, his head bowed in silent shame. the luminous expanse was unlike anything mortal eyes could comprehend—a vast court of blinding light, with entities of immeasurable power seated upon towering thrones of radiant energy. their voices were neither spoken nor heard but resonated directly within his being, each word a vibration that seemed to shake the very fabric of his existence.

“you have broken our most sacred laws, felix,” the central figure intoned, its voice a perfect balance of wrath and sorrow. “angels are not to reveal themselves to the living. and yet, you have not only shown yourself—you have formed a connection.”

felix clenched his fists at his sides, his golden head still lowered. “i couldn’t stand by and watch her suffer anymore,” he admitted, his voice steady despite the gravity of his situation. “she needed me. she needed someone.”

the entity’s light flared brighter, casting long shadows that seemed to pull at felix’s very essence. “your intentions may have been pure, but your actions were reckless. you risked exposing our realm to the mortal plane and disrupted the natural order.”

another voice, colder and sharper, chimed in. “you allowed emotion to cloud your duty. this is not love; it is folly. and now, you must face the consequences of your defiance.”

felix finally lifted his head, his freckled face set with quiet determination. “if loving her is a crime, then i will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary. but i don’t regret what i’ve done. she was alone in a way no one should ever have to be.”

the celestial beings exchanged glances, their forms shifting and flickering with the intensity of their deliberation. finally, the central figure spoke again, its tone heavy with finality. “felix, you are hereby stripped of your ability to interact with her. you will be confined to the astral plane, unable to enter her dreams or manifest in her presence. should you attempt to defy this order, the consequences will be irrevocable.”

the words struck him like a physical blow, and felix staggered, his heart aching with the weight of his punishment. to be kept away from you, to be forced to watch your pain from a distance without being able to comfort you—yet again–it was torment.

but there was nothing he could do. with a final flash of light, the court dissolved, and felix was left alone in the vast, endless expanse of the astral plane, his physical connection to you severed.

back in your world, you sat on your bed, staring at the clock as tears streamed down your face. the weight of his absence was unbearable, a silent ache that pressed against your chest. you whispered his name into the dark, hoping against hope that he could hear you, not knowing that he was out there, whispering your name too.

felix could still watch over you, still fulfill his celestial duties to keep you safe, but it wasn’t the same. something had shifted—an invisible barrier now confined him to the most basic of his responsibilities. no longer could he visit your dreams or stand by your side as you slept, even if you couldn’t see him. it tore at him. every part of him yearned to return, to let you know he was still there, to reassure you in the way only he could.

he could feel the ache of your unanswered questions, the way you were consumed by his sudden absence. you were falling deeper into a loneliness that clawed at your soul, a loneliness that made his punishment feel like a knife twisting in his chest. he knew you were hurting in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time, and the knowledge that he was the cause—however unintended—made it all the more unbearable.

winter came, and with it, you began to fade. the heavy, suffocating emptiness seeped back into your life, wrapping itself around you like a cold, unrelenting fog. your appetite vanished, and the simplest tasks became insurmountable. you stopped answering texts, ignoring calls from friends you hadn’t spoken to in weeks—some in months. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

nothing mattered anymore because nothing could fill the void felix had left. you tried, briefly, to shake the feeling, but no one could make you feel the way he did. felix had ruined you for anyone else, his presence so uniquely comforting and irreplaceable that his absence felt like a gaping wound.

felix watched helplessly, his golden light dimmer than it had ever been. he saw the way your energy drained, the light in your eyes fading. he knew he was the one thing that could pull you out of this darkness, and yet, he was forbidden from reaching you. he spent countless moments wrestling with his own helplessness, the longing to be with you tearing him apart.

in the nights that followed, as you lay in your bed staring at the ceiling with tear-streaked cheeks, he whispered your name softly into the void, desperate for you to hear, even if he knew it was impossible. all he could do was hope.

the dark feelings were relentless, clawing at the edges of your mind, whispering venomous lies that you couldn’t escape. for months, they lingered, festering in the absence of light. no friends, no family, no felix—just you and the unyielding barrage of your thoughts. you had tried to fight it, to push forward, but the weight of it all was suffocating.

one cold winter night, as the world outside lay silent under a blanket of snow, you sat at the edge of your bed, staring at the empty room around you. the loneliness felt louder than any noise could. enough was enough, you thought. the hollow ache in your chest felt unbearable, and you saw no way out.

you grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, your hands trembling as you began to write. words spilled out, raw and unfiltered—apologies to those you thought might care, explanations for your decision, and an overwhelming sense of defeat. the letter wasn’t long; it didn’t need to be. when you finished, you folded it neatly and placed it on your nightstand.

the pills sat in the cabinet for months, untouched but always there. you retrieved them now, your breath shaky as you poured them into your palm. one by one, they gleamed under the dim light of your bedside lamp, little capsules of finality. you clutched them tightly, tears slipping down your face, mingling with the numbness that had overtaken you.

but just as you raised your hand, the room shifted. the light flickered, a sudden gust of vanilla-scented air brushing against your skin. it was so sudden and so familiar that your hand froze. the bottle slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor, pills scattering across the wooden boards.

and then you saw him.

felix stood before you, his form shimmering like an ethereal beacon against the darkness. his golden hair glowed faintly, his freckled face etched with desperation and anguish. he looked at you, and for a moment, you could see the pain in his eyes—a reflection of your own.

“don’t,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “please don’t.”

your breath hitched as you stared at him, unsure if he was real or just another cruel trick of your mind. “you… you left me,” you choked out, tears streaming freely now. “i thought you were gone forever.”

“i didn’t want to go,” felix said, stepping closer, his presence radiating warmth. “they made me. but i couldn’t stay away anymore. i  can’t lose you.”

you felt his hands, warm and soft, cupping your trembling ones. the faint buzz of energy that accompanied his touch was a reminder of the bond you shared. “i’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with guilt. “i failed you.”

“no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “you didn’t. i just… i can’t do this anymore, felix. i can’t keep feeling like this.”

“you’re not alone,” he said firmly, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “you never were, and you never will be. i’ll fight for you, even if it costs me everything. but you have to promise me something.”

“what?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“promise me you’ll hold on,” he said, his hands tightening slightly around yours. “even when it’s hard, even when it feels impossible. i’ll be here. i’ll always find a way to be here.” 

the intensity of his words wrapped around you like a lifeline. for the first time in months, a glimmer of hope pierced through the suffocating darkness. you nodded, tears spilling as you whispered, “i promise.” felix pulled you into his arms, his embrace warm and grounding. for a moment, time stood still, and the only thing that mattered was that he was here.

felix’s comfort only lasted a fleeting moment. his golden eyes, filled with relief as he cradled your face, suddenly clouded with pain. his expression twisted, and with a sharp intake of breath, he dropped to his knees beside your bed. his hands clutched at his chest as if trying to hold something unseen together, his gasps turning into strangled cries.

"felix?" you called out, panic lacing your voice as you knelt beside him, your hand pressing firmly against his trembling shoulder. the warmth of his skin beneath your touch felt fleeting, fragile, like it was slipping away. "what’s happening? tell me!"

he tried to speak, his lips parting, but no words came. instead, he groaned, his body convulsing slightly as though an unbearable weight pressed down on him. his anguish was palpable, his gasps ragged and labored, his entire form shuddering under some invisible force.

then, a sound—a haunting, visceral snap—echoed in the air, like the ripping of fabric mixed with the grotesque crunch of bone. felix’s head shot back, and he let out a heart-wrenching wail that cut through the room like a blade. his back arched unnaturally, his hands clawing at the air as if trying to grasp something that was no longer there.

you froze, horrified, as the source of his agony became clear. through the thin white cloth of his shirt, you saw it—two jagged, open wounds on his back, seeping blood that shouldn’t have existed. the fabric clung to the injuries, staining crimson as the bleeding continued.

"felix, what’s happening?!" you cried, your voice trembling as your heart raced wildly in your chest. you tried to steady him, your hands gripping his shoulders, but he flinched, his body recoiling from the touch like it burned.

he groaned again, his voice hoarse and broken. his glowing, ethereal presence dimmed before your eyes, his radiant skin now pallid and sallow. the faint hum of electricity you always felt when you touched him—gone. even the scent of vanilla, so comforting and familiar, seemed to fade, replaced by the metallic tang of blood.

his breathing was ragged, shallow, and his entire form quivered with agony. "no... no..." he muttered weakly, his voice barely a whisper.

"felix," you choked out, your tears blurring your vision. you pressed your hands to his face, your touch desperate. "please, what’s happening to you? tell me what to do!"

he looked at you then, his eyes swimming with sorrow and pain so profound it felt as if it might shatter you. his voice was barely audible, cracked and broken as he rasped, "they’ve... taken it... everything. my wings... my grace..."

your breath hitched, your mind reeling as the realization dawned on you. felix wasn’t just in pain—he had been exiled. stripped of his celestial essence, cast down to a mortal existence for breaking the sacred laws he once upheld.

tears streamed down your face as you tried to support his trembling body, your heart breaking at the sight of him so vulnerable, so human. "you’re bleeding," you whispered, your voice trembling as you pressed your hands against his back in a futile attempt to stem the flow.

"it doesn’t matter," he said, his words slurred with exhaustion. "i... i couldn’t stay away. i knew this would happen, but i couldn’t leave you... not like that."

the weight of his sacrifice hit you like a tidal wave, and you sobbed openly, clutching him tightly as he collapsed against you. felix’s breaths were shallow, his body heavy and weak as he leaned into your embrace.

"you shouldn’t have done this," you murmured, your voice cracking with guilt and despair.

"i had to," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "i love you.." 

felix’s whispered confession hung in the air like a fragile thread, his words trembling with vulnerability. his golden eyes, dulled by exhaustion, searched yours for a reaction. the weight of his love—of everything he had given up—pressed against your chest, making it hard to breathe.

"i love you," he repeated, stronger this time, as if saying it louder could convince you of its truth. his hand, trembling but resolute, reached up to touch your cheek, his thumb brushing away your tears. "i’ve loved you for so long... even before you knew i existed. watching over you, seeing your pain, your strength... i couldn’t stand to just watch anymore. i couldn’t lose you."

tears streamed down your face as you cupped his face, his skin warm beneath your palms but lacking the celestial glow you’d once marveled at. "felix," you choked out, your voice thick with emotion. "you gave up everything for me. how could i ever be worth that?"

his lips curled into a faint, pained smile. "you’ve always been worth it. you’re worth every punishment, every scar, every moment of this mortal life. i would do it all over again just to see you safe, just to be with you."

you shook your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words. "i don’t deserve this. i don’t deserve you."

"yes, you do," he countered, his voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing him down. "you deserve to be loved, truly loved, in a way that heals instead of hurts. and if i’m the one who can give that to you, then i’ll bear whatever it takes."

his words cracked something open inside you—a dam you’d been holding back for so long. the love you felt for him, so deep and consuming, poured out all at once. "felix, i love you too," you confessed, your voice trembling. "i’ve been so scared to admit it, even to myself, but i do. i love you more than i’ve ever loved anyone."

felix’s eyes widened, glistening with tears of his own, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift. his arms, though weak, wrapped around you tightly, pulling you into a desperate embrace. "you don’t know how much it means to hear you say that," he murmured against your hair.

you clung to him, your heart aching with both love and fear. "but what happens now? you’ve already lost so much because of me."

felix pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression resolute despite the pain etched into his features. "we’ll figure it out together," he promised. "no matter what comes next, i’m not leaving your side. not now, not ever."

his words were a lifeline, a tether to hope in the storm of uncertainty surrounding you. 

as felix’s promise lingered in the air, his golden eyes searched yours with such intensity that it felt as though time had momentarily stopped. despite the anguish and exhaustion etched into his features, there was an undeniable pull between the two of you—something raw, something unspoken.

your fingers instinctively moved to his face, brushing back the damp strands of hair that clung to his forehead. he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as if savoring the simple intimacy of it.

"felix," you whispered, your voice barely audible, "you're all i have."

his gaze snapped back to yours, filled with equal parts tenderness and desperation. "and you're everything i’ve ever wanted."

before you could reply, felix closed the distance between you. his lips met yours in a kiss so gentle it felt like it could break with the wrong move. there was no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the unyielding truth of your shared emotions spilling into each other.

his kiss deepened as his trembling hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, as though he feared you might slip away if he let go. you felt the warmth of him, even in his weakened state, and the love he poured into that single moment overwhelmed you.

your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him as the kiss turned more urgent. the pain, the fear, the heartbreak—they all melted away, leaving only the two of you and the fire igniting between you.

felix broke the kiss briefly, resting his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. "i can’t lose you," he murmured, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "not again. never again."

"you won’t," you promised, your voice steady despite the tears still streaming down your face. "i’m here. i’m not going anywhere."

as if reassured by your words, felix pulled you closer, his lips finding yours again with renewed fervor. his kisses were desperate yet tender, an unspoken apology for the pain you’d endured and a silent vow to never let you feel that way again.

something inside felix had snapped. whatever holy laws that prevented him from feeling this primal, sinful desire for you, they were long gone. something about kissing your lips, tasting you, drinking you in.. drove him into high gear. his hands were never ending in their exploration of your skin, roaming your body under your clothes. soft hums of appreciation left his lips as they danced hungrily against yours. 

his love and affections for you were obvious.. but this instantly grew beyond an emotional depth, and he wanted to claim you. in this instant, it was more than wanting to care for you emotionally. he longed to satisfy your every desire, offering you the most exquisite sensations a human could experience. he wanted to give you even the slightest taste of heaven, even if he was no longer an angel. 

his injuries and newfound pain were at the back of his mind–his main focus was you. finally, it was you. 

your hands slid up his arms, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held onto you like you were his lifeline. his body was warm, his presence grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the crushing weight of your loneliness lifted.

the heat between you grew, felix’s touch becoming bolder as he brushed his hands down your sides, hesitant yet yearning. you felt his fingers tremble slightly, a reminder of his fragile state, but he didn’t pull away. instead, he held you tighter, pressing kisses along your jawline and down to the curve of your neck.

"felix," you whispered, your voice catching as his lips lingered on your skin.

he paused, his breath warm against your collarbone as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. his eyes were filled with love, devotion, and a vulnerability that took your breath away. "tell me if this is too much," he said softly, his voice hoarse but steady.

"it’s not," you replied, your own voice trembling. "but.. your back. you’re hurt."

felix’s lips quirked into a faint smile, his golden eyes softening even as his hands remained firmly on your waist. “don’t worry about me,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. “this… what i’m feeling right now, being here with you… it’s worth any pain. i’m fine.”

you searched his face, uncertain, your fingertips brushing over his cheek. the warmth of his skin, the sincerity in his gaze, soothed your lingering doubts. “but felix—”

“i want this,” he interrupted gently, his voice carrying a rare firmness. his hands slid up your sides, steady despite their earlier trembling, until they rested just below your ribs. “i want you. i’ve wanted you for so long, and now that i have you here, i’m not going to let anything take me away from you again.”

your heart clenched at the conviction in his words. the love in his gaze was overpowering, a force you couldn’t fight against even if you wanted to. “you’re sure?” you asked softly, needing his confirmation, your fingers brushing through his disheveled hair.

he exhaled shakily, leaning his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with your own. “i’m more sure of this than i’ve been of anything in my existence. i’ve spent so long watching over you, loving you from afar. i don’t want to hold back anymore.”

felix tilted your chin gently, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt different from before. it wasn’t just hungry or desperate—it was tender, deliberate, filled with a quiet intensity that made your knees weak. his hands moved down, gripping your hips and pulling you closer, as though he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you.

his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a warm, tingling trail that made your breath hitch. he paused again, his voice barely above a whisper. “tell me if you need me to stop,” he said, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

you shook your head, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions swirling within you. “i don’t want you to stop, felix. i want you.”

at your words, felix released a shaky breath, his lips curling into a soft, relieved smile that sent a shiver down your spine. slowly, with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the moment, he grasped the hem of your shirt and began to lift it. the fabric slid over your skin with ease, leaving your stomach exposed to the cool air, and you felt your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

you raised your arms, allowing him to remove the shirt entirely. the loss of its warmth left goosebumps in its wake, your skin tingling from the sudden exposure. felix’s gaze dropped, and you swore you saw his pupils dilate, his golden eyes darkening with something primal, something raw. his breath hitched as his gaze lingered on your bare skin, your braless chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. the chill of the room had already peaked your nipples, and the sight seemed to unravel him further.

a low, guttural sound escaped him, almost like a growl, as he leaned in. his lips brushed against the center of your chest, pressing soft, reverent kisses that made your breath catch. each touch was deliberate, tender, and filled with a worshipful intensity that made your mind spin.

his lips moved slowly, leaving warm trails across your skin as he kissed the delicate curve of one breast, then the other, lingering as though savoring every moment. the sensation sent jolts of heat coursing through your body, your chest heaving under his touch. felix took his time, his lips and hands mapping the contours of your body with a devotion that left you trembling.

your thoughts were a hazy blur, consumed by the realization of how intimate this moment was. felix—the celestial being who had once been tasked with shielding you from harm, who had watched over you like a guardian star—was now here, touching you in ways that felt both sinful and sacred. 

his hands, his lips, his every movement felt as though they belonged there, as if this connection between you was meant to be all along. the contrast of what he once was and who he was now only deepened the intensity of the moment. 

“i want to see more of you,” felix murmured, his voice low and thick with longing. his hand cupped the underside of your breast, his touch reverent, almost trembling. you met his gaze, your heart fluttering at the vulnerability in his eyes, and nodded slowly, offering him a soft smile.

standing, you reached for the knot on your pajama pants, untying it with shaky hands. felix’s eyes never left you, his gaze intense, watching every movement as if memorizing it. meanwhile, he began unbuttoning his pristine white shirt, the fabric catching slightly against his trembling fingers.

when the shirt finally slipped from his shoulders, you caught your breath. his honey-toned skin glowed faintly under the dim light, a stark contrast to the jagged wounds on his back and the fading bruises across his neck. he winced, a hiss escaping his lips as the shirt grazed the sensitive injuries, but the pain seemed to dissipate the moment his eyes landed on you.

you’d reclined on the bed, your pajama pants now discarded, leaving you in only your underwear. the soft light kissed your skin, highlighting every curve, and felix froze, his heart racing so wildly he thought it might burst.

he moved closer, his hands steady despite the overwhelming emotions coursing through him. leaning down, he pressed a kiss to each of your bent knees, his lips warm and tender against your skin. his hands trailed down your thighs, his fingertips grazing your soft flesh with a featherlight touch, as if afraid he might break you.

“felix?” you spoke, your voice shy and a little hoarse from the intensity of the moment.

“yes, my love?” he murmured, his tone soothing and steady, even as his lips brushed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“how do you…” you hesitated, your cheeks burning as your voice dropped lower, “know what to do? i thought angels couldn’t—”

felix chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. his hands continued their slow, adoring exploration of your skin, his lips hovering just above your thigh. “you’re right,” he said, his voice rich with affection. “angels don’t… but i’ve watched humans for centuries. seen their moments of love, of passion. i may not have experienced it before, but the thought of touching you, of being with you like this…” he paused, lifting his gaze to yours, his golden eyes filled with unwavering devotion. “it’s instinctual. it’s like i was made to know how to love you.”

his words sent a shiver through you, your chest tightening at the raw honesty in his voice. “felix…” you whispered, your hands reaching to cradle his face, your thumb brushing his cheek.

he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly before he pressed a kiss to your palm. “if i’m clumsy or unsure,” he continued, his voice soft, “just tell me. guide me. all i want is to make you feel cherished, loved... whole.”

your heart swelled at his words, and you nodded, sitting up a bit to press your lips to his. “you’re doing everything right,” you assured him, your voice trembling with both nervousness and excitement.

felix’s lips curved into a soft smile against yours before he deepened the kiss, his touch growing more confident as his hands slid back to your thighs. his movements were reverent, as though worshiping every curve of your body. slowly, he shifted above you, breaking the kiss for a moment to meet your eyes, his gaze filled with both tenderness and longing.

one hand slipped down between your legs, his fingers brushing over your mound through the thin fabric of your panties. his golden eyes flickered down to watch his hand, but they quickly returned to your face, searching for your reaction. he pressed down with a little more pressure, the motion drawing a soft gasp from your lips. the sound sent a thrill through him, and a subtle smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

felix’s movements became more deliberate, his fingers creating a gentle rhythm as they teased you through the fabric. your hips instinctively rose to meet his touch, grinding against his hand as he followed your lead. the warmth of his palm, the delicate friction, sent sparks of pleasure racing through you.

“can i feel you... underneath?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and desire. a faint blush dusted his cheeks, a charming reminder of his inexperience.

you reached up, threading your fingers through his tousled hair, offering him a reassuring smile. “yes, that’s okay,” you whispered.

he nodded, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss before his hand slipped beneath the fabric of your underwear. both of your breaths hitched simultaneously as his fingers met your slick heat. the intimacy of the moment made your cheeks flush with warmth, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

felix’s fingers explored you slowly, his movements careful but curious, as though memorizing every contour of your most sensitive place. when he brushed his middle finger against your clit, a moan escaped your lips, your hips jerking slightly in response. the sound sent a jolt through him, his arousal growing, the evidence of his desire pressing against the confines of his pants.

he began to circle your clit, experimenting with pressure and rhythm, his focus entirely on your reactions. every gasp, moan, and shudder guided him, and the connection between you deepened with each passing moment. your breaths became ragged, your body arching into his touch as he expertly worked you closer to the edge.

“felix, i’m gonna... oh my g-god!” you stammered, your voice breaking as waves of pleasure built within you.

he leaned down, pressing kisses to your jaw and neck, his voice low and soothing. “it’s okay, love. let go for me,” he murmured, his words like a lifeline pulling you into bliss.

your orgasm hit with devastating intensity, your body trembling as waves of ecstasy washed over you. your legs shook uncontrollably, your nails digging into his forearm as you cried out, your voice cracking with the force of your release. felix watched you with awe, his heart swelling with pride as he took in the sight of you—your back arching off the bed, your mouth falling open in a silent scream, your entire form glowing with pleasure.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his chest tightening at the sight of you undone beneath him. the sheer intensity of your release and the knowledge that he had brought you to this point sent a surge of arousal through him, his own need nearly overwhelming.

as you descended from the peak of your bliss, your chest heaving with each breath, felix leaned in to press a delicate kiss to your temple. his touch was gentle, almost reverent, as his fingers softly brushed a strand of hair from your flushed face. “are you okay, my love?” he asked, his voice low and tender, full of concern.

you nodded, your lips curling into a shy, dazed smile. “mhm… that was… really good,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

a soft chuckle escaped felix’s lips as he carefully withdrew his hand from your panties, his golden gaze dropping to the slick coating his fingers. without hesitation, he brought the digits to his mouth, his lips parting as he sucked them clean with an experimental slowness. his eyes fluttered shut briefly, and when they reopened, they glimmered with darkened desire.

“you taste divine, y/n,” he murmured, his voice rich with admiration and unrestrained hunger.

your cheeks flamed at the sight of him savoring you, but your attention shifted to the noticeable bulge straining against his pants. the sight sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach, and when your gaze returned to his face, you found him already watching you. his eyes were soft yet filled with a pleading sort of anticipation, his vulnerability laid bare.

“can i…?” you asked cautiously, your hand lightly pressing against the outline of his arousal.

felix’s breath hitched at your touch, his expression briefly contorting, not in discomfort but in a momentary overwhelm at the unfamiliar sensation. “y-yes,” he stammered, his voice shaky. “but… be gentle, please?”

“of course,” you assured him, offering a comforting smile as you carefully guided him to lie back. “just relax. don’t worry about the sheets.”

he followed your guidance, grunting softly as he adjusted his position. though the movement aggravated his healing wounds, felix bit back any complaints, his focus entirely on you. how could he not, when you knelt before him, bare and beautiful, your hands already working to free him from his remaining clothes?

as you tugged his pants down, his erection sprang free, slapping against his toned stomach. you couldn’t help but admire him—his length was flushed a deep pink, the prominent head peeking shyly beneath the extra skin. he was perfect, and undeniably human in this moment.

you leaned down, pressing soft, deliberate kisses along the base of his shaft, your lips trailing up the warm skin. felix’s breathing grew uneven, his golden eyes flickering down to watch you, though he struggled to hold your gaze. his cheeks were painted with a faint blush, his flustered expression only adding to his allure.

“you’re so beautiful,” you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with awe.

felix’s lips parted as if to respond, but the words seemed to catch in his throat, replaced by a soft groan as you kissed the underside of his length. your touch was gentle, tender, as though you understood how new and overwhelming this was for him.

“does this feel okay?” you asked softly, your eyes seeking his for reassurance.

felix nodded quickly, his voice catching as he replied, “yes… it feels incredible.”

encouraged by his soft groans and whispered praises, you continued your delicate exploration, your lips and hands moving with care and devotion. felix’s chest rose and fell in a rhythm that matched the tremors of his breath, his hands clutching the sheets tightly as if anchoring himself to reality.

when your lips wrapped around his length, his entire body jerked slightly in response, a low groan escaping his parted lips. the sound was raw, unrestrained, and it sent a surge of confidence through you. you moved slowly, your mouth warm and wet as you took him deeper, your tongue teasing the sensitive head with deliberate flicks and swirls. with each motion, you made sure to pull the skin back gently, exposing the most sensitive part of him to your ministrations.

“god, y/n… that’s—” his voice cracked, his words dissolving into a panting moan. his abs flexed involuntarily under your touch, and his head fell back onto the pillow, golden hair splayed like a halo. his hands left the sheets to tangle in your hair, his fingers trembling as they brushed against your scalp, though he didn’t pull or guide—he simply held on as if the pleasure was too much to bear alone.

your pace remained steady, your tongue working magic against him as you hollowed your cheeks to increase the intensity. felix’s reactions were mesmerizing—his breath hitched, his thighs quivered, and his lips parted to let out soft, helpless moans. you could feel his arousal building, his body tightening under your touch.

“a-ah… wait!” he suddenly cried out, his voice desperate as his hips tensed.

alarmed, you pulled off immediately, his length slipping from your lips with a wet pop. “felix? did i hurt you?” you asked, your voice laced with concern, your eyes searching his flushed face for any sign of discomfort.

he shook his head quickly, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “n-no, love,” he managed, his voice shaky but reassuring. “you didn’t hurt me. i just… i was getting close, and i… i didn’t want it to end so soon.” his golden eyes, filled with vulnerability and desire, met yours, and he offered a soft, apologetic smile. “i want to feel more with you. all of you.”

his words sent a new wave of warmth through your body, and you leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “it’s okay, felix,” you murmured against his mouth, your tone soothing. “we’ll go at your pace. i just want to make you feel good.”

felix’s breath hitched as he let out a shaky laugh, his hands cradling your face with a tenderness that seemed almost at odds with the raw desire in his eyes. his golden gaze searched yours as though looking for permission to continue. “you already make me feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “but… please, i need to feel you completely. let me… let me be inside you.”

the desperation in his plea made your heart skip a beat, his need evident in the way his length twitched against your skin. “are you sure?” you asked softly, your voice laced with caution and care.

“i’ve never been more sure of anything,” felix replied fervently, his hands trembling slightly as they traced down your sides. before you could say another word, he gently guided you onto your back, his movements deliberate but brimming with urgency.

he tugged at the fabric of your panties, slipping them down and casting them aside, his eyes never leaving yours. the sight of you bare beneath him seemed to stoke his desire even further, his lips crashing into yours with newfound hunger. his knees parted your thighs a little more, positioning himself between them as he kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring yours with a fervor that left you breathless.

your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. the anticipation was electric, your body taut with expectation. felix pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his hand guiding his aching length to your entrance. “if you need me to stop, just say the word, okay?” he whispered, his tone full of care despite the tension in his voice.

you nodded, biting your lip as your head sank into the pillow, bracing yourself for the moment you had both been yearning for. slowly, felix began to push inside you, his hips trembling as he sank into your warmth. the sensation overwhelmed him instantly—your tight heat surrounding him in a way that made his breath falter and a shudder rack his body.

a gasp escaped your lips as he slid all the way in with one smooth motion, the stretch both surprising and exhilarating. felix braced himself on his forearms, his face hovering just above yours. his eyes fluttered shut, and a whimper escaped his lips as he struggled to stay composed. “god… so tight…,” he muttered, his voice strained as he adjusted to the sensation.

for a moment, he stilled, giving you both a chance to adjust. his gaze returned to yours, full of concern and adoration. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice a whisper.

“y-yeah,” you managed, your voice breathy. “you can move.”

felix exhaled a deep breath and began to roll his hips, starting with a moderate pace. his movements were tentative at first, his eyes fixed on your expression to ensure you were comfortable. but as your gasps turned to soft moans, his confidence grew.

the friction was maddening, his steady rhythm sending waves of pleasure through both your bodies. each thrust drew a mix of grunts and whimpers from felix, his forehead resting against yours as he poured his entire being into every movement. “you feel… so good,” he groaned, his voice shaky with restraint.

your hands found purchase on his back, being cautious of his wounds. your fingers dug into the taut muscles as his pace began to quicken. the pressure was building, both of you lost in the connection that felt as much emotional as it was physical. “felix…” you moaned his name, your legs tightening around his waist as his hips snapped against yours with increasing fervor.

his breathing became erratic, his pace growing desperate as he chased his release. “y/n… i can’t…” he gasped, his body trembling with the effort to hold back.

“it’s okay,” you whispered, your voice tender and encouraging. “let go, felix.”

with a strangled cry, felix buried himself as deeply as he could, his entire body shuddering as his climax overtook him. his hips stilled, pressing tightly against yours as warmth filled you, his groans muffled against your neck as he clung to you like you were his lifeline.

for a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your mingled breaths, the quiet intimacy of the moment enveloping you both. felix finally lifted his head, his flushed face framed by his damp hair, and his eyes met yours with a look of pure devotion. “i love you,” he whispered, the words filled with awe.

your heart swelled, and you reached up to cradle his face. “i love you too, felix.”

as the two of you lay entwined in the quiet aftermath, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the warmth of his body against yours and the steady rhythm of his breathing. felix’s fingers lazily traced patterns on your skin, his touch grounding and tender. there was a newfound softness in his gaze as he looked at you, a vulnerability that mirrored your own. whatever boundaries had once kept him from you—divine laws, celestial duties, or his own insecurities—had crumbled completely, leaving behind a love that was raw, human, and boundless. in that moment, as you rested your head against his chest, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat, you both understood that this was where you belonged: together, in a love that defied heaven and earth.

©chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[anjanahalo]

Potential DPxDC Fic 6

Guess it could be just DP. I just like DPxDC. It's a Bad Fenton Parents fic, but based on me reading about various new forms of child abuse to use. CW below for childhood neglect and stuff.

Danny is born into the Fenton family after Jack and Maddie lose their beloved Jasmine to The Stystem. Taken from their home and placed in foster care for small things like forgetting to get her lunch perfectly on time (or every day after a breakthrough) or getting behind on laundry for awhile (after spending a week backing up their research in case of a ghost or EMP strike. Its not like they managed time to bathe or change clothes, either!). They wouldn't make the same mistake as they would with their lovely daughter. Instead of announcing the pregnancy, they kept quiet. Maddie stayed home so the neighbors didn't see her growing belly. When the birth came, they delivered at home (a biology degree is good enough!), and vowed to home school him so he would stay and not be taken away. The homeschooling didn't...end up with the same results as traditional school. They were both still busy closing in on their portal, after all, so lessons were usually sporadic and centered around their work. Danny definitely had the Fenton Genius (TM) from how he picked up advanced physics, calculus, mechanical engineering and mathmatics. He still wasn't great at reading regular words or writing, but his numbers are neat and his calculations flawless, so things like English and History could sit on the side. It was sad, of course, how Danny was stuck in the home for the sake of the family, the curtains permanently drawn to avoid the nosy neighbors that tore apart their family before, but instead of moping or rebellion, he worked alongside them as soon as he could. Maddie framed his first hazmat suit, gifting him a new one with each growthspurt, always white ("We'll let you pick your own Fenton OSHA Approved Hazmat Color once you grow up, Danny."), and he stood with his parents as they tried to open the portal when he turned fourteen. And it failed. Dejected, all three left and ate the planned celebratory fudge with sullen expressions, the fudge itself feeling overly tacky with their depression. Danny, however, got up in the middle of the night and snuck into the basement, his steps smooth and confident even in the darkness of the house (he could get anywhere in the house with his eyes closed). He crept into the basement, an idea striking him. There was an auxillary power button inside the portal itself, meant as a backup or last resort override. However, Danny knew his dad installed the electrical system overnight one night in a fit of manic inspiration. What if it wasn't the auxillary power button anymore? He slipped on his hazmat suit. He walked into the portal, double checked the wiring, and looked up at the button, red and obvious in the wall. If he was correct, he thought as he raised his hand to the button, all he had to do was-

Jack and Maddie raced down the stairs as the lights flickered and a faint cry rose from below. In the basement they found Danny in his hazmat suit. He stared at them with frightful shock, his hair and left hand singed, then turned toward the humming that enraptured his parents as soon as the descended. The portal was working. It worked! Jack and Maddie and Danny were all elated, but Danny began to recede from their work. Stating he wanted to journal their portal research and development into a story, he began to hide in his room more and more. He ordered and read books on biology, psychology, even philosophy, because he knew what happened to him. The portal opened on him, and he died. He awoke in the basement as a ghost, barely transforming himself into something human looking before his parents arrived. However, what he thought he felt went against everything he knew about ghosts. Ghosts weren't sentient. They were emotions strongly imprinted on ectoplasm. Enough ectoplasm or emotions and an echo of those dead feelings rose, taking on an avatar and acting purely off the instinct of the moods that made them. Considering ectoplasm usually manifested with death, and the strongest emotions of the dying are usually fear and anger, most ghosts were destructive with no care for property or life, mindless monsters who'd tear apart the mortal world if left to their own devices in a vain attempt to soothe their undying emotions. But Danny still felt like Danny. He had thoughts, emotions, physical feeling, everything like when he was...when the portal wasn't open. Research, thankfully, taught him what happened. After all, signs were there that something changed for the worse in him. He felt afraid of his parents, and he'd begun lying to them daily when he could never remember telling a fib. On top of that were the strange new powers he couldn't control and shapeshifting abilities between himself and some ghostly manifestation of himself. The portal changed him. He wasn't Danny the Human anymore, but he wasn't a typical ghost, either. Danny was a Philosophical Zombie, and he had no idea how he's gonna tell his parents.

[jellymochii]

My Angel

♱ pairings: Guardian Angel!Felix x F!Reader

♱ genre: fluff, angst, smut

♱ cw: smut, cunnilingus, religious themes, mentions of abuse/foster care system.

♱ wc: 4.1k

↪author's note: Hiya! I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors or if it seems rushed, I'm still a new author so any feedback is greatly appreciated! Hope you enjoy :)

**THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT REFLECT THE TRUE NATURE OF THE PEOPLE MENTIONED**

*Abrahamic-denoting any or all of the religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) that revere Abraham, the Biblical patriarch.

_______________

An angel's task was always difficult, yet fulfilling. Serving at the right hand of the Lord and doing everything possible to assist humans in gaining access into heaven. Some angels, however, we're granted one of the most difficult tasks of all– becoming a guardian to a human.

The tradition of every abrahamic* Religion states that at birth, a guardian angel is assigned to the human, overseeing the physical and spiritual protection of that individual, as well as encouraging them through various methods to turn back to God. While it can be a daunting task for many, especially the angels who were assigned reckless and bold humans, it was overall a beautiful and rewarding experience for many of the angels, watching their little humans grow and live life to their fullest. 

While it was quite normal for angels to grow quite fond of their little beings, and even experience love for them, becoming in love with them was something that was forbidden entirely, as it represented otherworldly and ungodly desires and lust not suited for the pure kingdom of God. This was something, of course, that a newer guardian angel would quickly learn.

_______________

Life would always find a way to kick you down, no matter how hard you tried to crawl your way back up. Not a single day in your life was free from pain, even on the day you were born.

Growing up in foster care was less than ideal, switching from house to house on a whim, leaving any friends you may have made in that town behind as you started fresh. Some of your foster parents and towns were much more pleasant than others, but living in a cycle of rejection of adoption from everyone led you to spend 18 years of your miserable life in the care of facilities and strangers. You were never wanted, not even by your own parents.

The only people you ever considered to be your true family were a pair of twins in the same boat as you, Hyunjin and Yeji. Much like you, the two never had any luck with getting adopted and struggled a lot with trusting others after what they'd been through, and yet, they welcomed you right in every time you found your way back to the facility after another failed fostering. Once all of you had turned 18, you collectively decided to scrape together moments from part time jobs and rent out a small apartment south of the city, where you'd been residing alongside the Hwang siblings for a while now.

Since the foster facility was highly faith-based, you were always subjected to weekly preachings and visits from the local pastor. He was kind, sure– but he always said that God had a path for all of us, and that everyone would find peace eventually, and that your guardian angel is always watching over you and protecting you. Despite listening intently every Sunday, that peace and protection from the world you were promised never seemed to make its way to you. You were cursed and cast out in the eyes of the Lord, left being the second option to everyone. There was no way in your eyes someone out there could truly love someone like you. And yet, you felt that there was someone out there who desired nothing more than you. It had to exist somewhere. Maybe somewhere, love was right next to you all along.

_________________

There you found yourself that day, umbrella in hand, taking the usual 10 minute commute to your part time job. The pouring downfall certainly wasn't ideal for walking in, but you trudged through nonetheless, passing through familiar streets that were usually bustling with life at this time of day. It felt quiet, unusually quiet. 

As you're about to place your headphones on, hoping to drown out the sound of pouring rain around you, a loud THUD coming from behind a coffee shop quickly grabbed your attention. Normally, you wouldn't give it a second thought. It could just be the usual raccoon rummaging through the dumpster, but something didn't feel quite right. Why did you feel so compelled to stop in your tracks and investigate? Perhaps it was a natural wave of curiosity or something compelling you to walk towards the source of the sound. As your feet dragged you towards the narrow alleyway, you felt something stronger than any rummaging dumpster critter could possibly make you feel, almost as if you were being pulled by a string of fate to peek behind the rundown bricks of the shop.

What you didn't expect to see, however, was a man with large wings rubbing his head in pain sitting on top of piled garbage bags in a dumpster.

You froze in your tracks at the sight as your mind raced. What the fuck was going on? Was your brain playing tricks on you again? Was this a lucid dream of sorts? Who is this guy?

The man’s eyes met yours, suddenly snapping out from his pained and confused state as his eyes widened as his face turned into a state of shock.

“Uhhh, Y/N, can you see me?” He said hesitantly.

Who is this guy? You thought. How does he know my name? And most importantly, how big are those fucking wings? Are they real?

“Who are you? How do you even know my name?!” You shouted, taking steps back out of fear.

“Wait...you CAN see me? Is this real?” The mysterious man questioned as he took notice of his large wings wrapped around him, now covered in dirt and torn white cloth from his attire. 

Admittedly, he was extremely beautiful. Warm brown eyes, long golden hair, and sun-kissed skin lathered in a constellation of frekels. Not to mention, the once delicate white fabric wrapped around his muscular arms.

“That doesn't answer my question, who are you and what's with the giant wings?” You retorted.

He paused for a moment as if contemplating his next thought.

“Felix...yeah, I'm Felix. I'm your guardian angel, Y/N.”

“My...what?” You questioned.

He hopped down from the garbage bags he sat on and approached you slowly. Every neuron in your mind was screaming at you to run away, to call for help, but your feet kept you planted as he crept forward, his hand gently cupping your face.

“I’m from the Kingdom of Heaven, I've been with you since the moment you were born, and God... you are so beautiful.” He spoke softly as he wrapped his arms and wings around you and pulled you into a tight hug.

Your mind still couldn't wrap around the fact that a gorgeous man in a dumpster with comically large wings was hugging you like his life depended on it. You felt your nostrils flare up as a stray feather from his wing fell on top of your nose, as your face twitched.

“AH-CHOO!” You sneezed. Okay, maybe the wings were real.

He quickly pulled back from you after the sneeze. “Oh, sorry about these, let me just-” he said as he quickly retracted his wings, almost making them vanish into thin air.

“So.” You said. “If you're really my guardian angel, and you're really from heaven, then why are you here?

“It's...a long story. I made a bit of a mistake, but hey- at least I'm here with you now!” He beamed.

“So then you've seen me this whole time? Everything I've gone through, and everything I've ever done?” You questioned, as you felt your cheeks flare with anger. How could he be real, and how could he let you suffer from rejection your whole life?

“Well, not everything you've ever done, most just the major ones-”

You cut him off quickly with a slap to the face.

“How could you ever let me go through hell and back?! You know all I ever wanted was to be loved, and yet you let me suffer?” You screamed, memories of the past flooding into your head.

Felix hunched over slightly, hand cupping his cheek from the sting you gave him. He crawled away slowly, like a rejected puppy, before he spoke.

“I really...tried my best Y/N. I know you've suffered so much, and it's my fault, really. I was still a young angel in heaven when you were born, and I got assigned to you. I felt every emotion you had and tried my best to keep you safe. It was for your own good...I promise.”

This was unbelievable to you. How was all of that for your own good? The countless lonely nights, praying to God that you'd finally get a loving family, only to be shut out and left to rot in the foster home until the cycle would repeat.

“My own good? How was any of this shit for my own good?! I suffered because of you, asshole!”

His heart shattered. You were everything to him, and yet it seemed like all his dedication to you was worthless.

“I'm done with this conversation, I need to get to work.” You declared as you began to walk back to the alleyway before a voice stopped you.

“Y/N...please. You can hate me forever, but just look at this, please?” He spoke with a whimper in his voice, holding up a soggy newspaper with 2 faces plastered on the front cover.

As much as you were frustrated, you decided to indulge him for once and take a look. The headline of the local paper issued in bold letters stated “BREAKING: FOSTER PARENTS ARRESTED FOR SERIAL CHILD NEGLECT AND ABUSE.” 

Once you actually saw the couple's faces, you felt the color in your face begin to fade. It was one of your foster couples. Your favorite one, in fact. The two seemed so sweet all those years ago, spoiling you with frequent gifts and homecooked meals that tasted amazing - it was the rejection that hurt the most because of how much it appeared like they loved you. Were they really monsters this whole time, and did Felix know about this?

Maybe you hadn't given him a fair chance.

“Did you know they were terrible people, Felix?” You asked, almost regretfully.

He nodded, head still tilted down in ache. 

“They were evil. They wanted to hurt you, I couldn't let them.”

“What about the rest of them, then? There were... some nice ones, I suppose.” You responded.

“No...none of them were ever good enough for you. They would never give you the life you deserved.”

You felt immense remove and guilt for the poor angel, covered in dirt and in pain from your harm. You'd heard so many horror stories from the Hwangs’ about cruel foster parents in and around the town, and maybe Felix was just doing his job. Maybe he did care.

“Hey, listen-uh, Felix. I'm sorry, I didn't know they were horrible. I shouldn't have slapped you.”

His head slowly rose, warm eyes locking into yours. “It's okay, Y/N. You didn't know. But man...I guess this is what pain feels like, huh?” He spoke as a smile crept back onto his face.

“Listen-forget work, okay? How about we just get a coffee or something.” You remarked.

“Oooh sounds fun! I've always wanted to try it!” He beamed.

________________________

You learned a lot that day, to say the least. Felix told you his life story–about how he died when he was only 5 from leukemia, rising up to heaven and living amongst the paradise of heaven, until he was assigned by the elder angels to become a guardian to a human, a high honor for such a young angel as him. At the very moment you took your first breath, Felix was there with you. While still young himself, he quickly matured and aged alongside you, almost as if you were going through everything with him. 

Felix began to tell you how he could sense when you were in danger with your life, and how we knew the moment your mother gave birth, you would be in harm's way with her, hence why she felt compelled to give you up to adoption.

He really did want to see you in a loving home, truly. Yet no one who welcomed you had the best intentions, he'd rather you be alone than in the house of monsters. Call it bad luck, or call it fate.

“So Felix, what grave mistake did you make to get kicked out? Did you try to murder one of my foster parents?” You asked, almost humorously as you sipped your coffee.

“Oh...just a fight with another angel, was all. Not supposed to fight in heaven, y'know?” He muttered.

He couldn't tell you the truth.

The truth that he was cast out of heaven by the elders for falling in love with you.

He's always adored everything about you as a young angel, but as the two of you grew together worlds apart, his feelings grew even more. However, his obsession didn't become out of control until recently. He loved everything about you, inside and out. He loved how you always had your nose stuffed inside a book when you weren't on the job. He loved how your sneeze was so high pitched it sounded like a mouse squeaking. He loved the way you walked, talked, and slept–to say he was a man possessed was an understatement.

Unfortunately, God was all-knowing. He could see his desire, and word quickly got around of a lust-filled angel. 

That's when this morning, after a long meeting with the elders to decide his punishment, he chose to come to earth, to be with you. It didn't matter that he would grow old and feel pain, he loved you, and he would do anything to simply bask in your presence.

You decided to keep him in your life. You let him follow you around and keep you company (as long as he promised not to have his giant wings out). At night, he'd find someplace to sleep, which during the cold and wet season broke your heart, so you let him slowly become accustomed to your shared apartment, introducing him as a friend you met at work. You gave him an allowance to buy whatever clothes/shoes he wanted (to which he quickly became addicted to shopping, spending the bare minimum on clothes while splurging on stuffed animals for the two of you.) 

You couldn't complain, truly. He was a ray of sunshine, and brought something new to your life.

________________

Time flew by quickly with your newfound friend by your side. While Yeji was a little unsure at first of him, Hyunjin quickly became inseparable to Felix, and frequently taught him how to play video games and cook for the house. Turns out, Felix had quite the knack for baking, specifically brownies, which tasted better than any dessert you'd ever had before. As quickly as Felix came into this world, he'd swiftly become the best thing that ever happened to you.

And yet, there was still something that was bugging you.

How could someone as perfect as Felix in every way ever possibly be cast out of heaven? He didn't have a mean bone in him, and surrounded everyone close to him with his graceful love and support. 

He had to have been lying to you about the fight.

One night, while he was enjoying some soup and TV, you decided to confront him. Something wasn't right.

“Felix, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what's up?” He said as he patted the empty spot on the couch, giving space for you to sit beside him.

You sat down and took his hand in yours. You were desperate to know the truth.

“Be honest with me, please. Why did you actually get cast out from heaven?”

He froze in his spot, face becoming pale.

“Felix...you know I won't judge you, I promise. Hell, even if you murdered someone, I'd still forgive you since you've done so much for me.”

He breathed a heavy sigh, there was no turning back now. He had to know if you loved him the way he loved you.

“Ok…I'll tell you but promise me that this won't ruin our relationship, okay?”

“Of course, pinky promise.” You said as your pinky interlocked with his.

“Well–I love you, Y/N. That's why I was kicked out.” He muttered, face heating up his freckles with a rosy pink.

“What do you mean? I'm sure you do love and care for me, but how is that wrong?”

“No, Y/N. I'm...in love with you. I have been for a long time. You're everything to me, I love every detail about you in ways I shouldn't.”

He paused, catching his breath and staring into your now widened eyes.

“Guardian Angels aren't supposed to fall in love with their humans…” He stated. “It's considered Lust, which is a sin. I'll probably never be let back into heaven unless I repent to God, and to you. Even though I’m head over heels for you, I'll never deserve you.”

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he let go of your pinky, standing up and turning towards the door.

“I'm sorry Y/N, I've ruined everything, but I'll leave you alone now.” He whispered as he wrapped his hand around the doorknob preparing to leave.

Only to be stopped by you, as you spun him around and smashed your lips against his.

Your soft lips and gentle cusping of his face made his heart soar back to heaven, leaving him no other choice but to pull you closer and embrace you while your kiss continued.

You pulled back first, almost reluctantly. 

“I love you too, Felix. I actually have for quite-” Your speech was cut off by his lips fervorishly smacking back into yours.

A long, drawn out groan came from his lips as your kiss melted all his worries away, ever so romantic and tender, yet wanting more.

The other angels were right, he needed more, a desire like no other was consuming him, making him hungry with lust. To him, just the chance to taste you was worth more than any eternal life he could have, because who needed Heaven when his Heaven was here in front of him? The more your tongue danced with his, the more something he'd never felt until a few months ago burned in his heart. He needed to taste you, he needed to worship the ground you walked on. He could feel his length hardening every second he spent engrossed in your presence, not claiming you as his was not an option anymore, he had to.

“Baby…” He whispered into the kiss. “...Please. I'll do anything you want, I'll make you feel so so good, j-just please let me have you.”

You parted your lips from his and looked deep into his eyes, now expanded from the love and lust consuming his system.

“Then take me Felix, I'm all yours.”

That was all it took for a switch to turn on inside of him, swiftly grabbing you and carrying you bridal style to your bedroom. He laid you down gently on your back, almost as if you were a delicate sculpture, eyeballing your figure attentively. 

“Can I?” He asks as he fiddles with the zipper of your jeans. You quickly nod and help him remove it from you, leaving only your delicate yet soaked panties exposed.

Felix wasted no time, as he quickly pressed the pad of his thumb to your clothed clit, rubbing circles at a torturously slow pace, causing you to whimper gently.

“Felix...please, I need more.” You whined.

“Oh, sorry love, I got a little carried away.” He giggled at himself, as he began to take off your panties, exposing him to your glistening and throbbing cunt.

It was more perfect than anything he could have ever dreamed of, and all he could ever want.

He looked up at you with pleading and glowing eyes like a puppy begging for its food, looking for any sign of approval to feast on you. 

“Go ahead Felix.” 

Without hesitation, his face dived into your needy pussy and began desperately licking stripes up your folds like a starved man. It was truly the sweetest nectar he had ever tasted, he needed all of it. Every last drop.

You felt almost helpless with him devouring you at this pace, a firm grip on both of your thighs as you squirm at his every touch. His tongue turns its attention to your clit, as his lips wrap around it and begin sucking it for dear life. Jolts of electricity were sent flying across your entire body as you let out a series of high pitched, whiny moans, making Felix suck even harder.

“Felix, p-please!I-Its too much!!” You cried out from overstimulation.

His lips released from your clit with a “pop” as he turned up to you. He looked disgustingly beautiful, with puffy lips dripping with your juices, and pupils dilated in an almost drunken state. 

“S-so good baby, you taste so good!” Felix said desperately. “Cum for me, please? I need it so bad, you have no idea.”

Soon enough, your fingers guide his head back down and begin tugging against his hair while you drive him deeper into your cunt. Felix can’t help but rut against the bedsheets to your moans, his eyes shutting from time to time from the friction of his cock and the sound of your voice as you cry out his name whenever his tongue hits a sweet spot. 

“Oh my god oh my god, Felix please! I'm gonna cum!” You cry out, earning a moan from Felix as he speeds up the already brutal pace, eating you out like it’s the greatest meal he’s ever had. His wings swiftly materialized to hold your thighs in place, allowing him space to bring your body closer to the edge.

One little peck to your clit was all it took to send you over the edge as you released the most guttural moan you'd ever cried out, your whole body trembling as your pussy released the sweet juices Felix desired so much. He wasted no time in licking every spot of your folds clean, drinking it all in as his whole body shook alongside yours.

Your breathing became erratic and heavy, trying to come down from what was possibly the greatest orgasms of your life- when you noticed Felix pulling himself up shakily from his position, taking notice to the newfound stain, and you see why. Right where he was lying down on your sheets, a puddle of warm liquid sat with some running down his leg, with underwear completely soaked. You couldn't help but giggle to yourself as you pulled him into a warm embrace, his breathing still heavy. 

“I love you...so fucking much Y/N.” He spoke softly, head tucked into your shoulder.

“I love you too Felix, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.” You replied, placing a gentle kiss on his temple, rubbing his neck and scalp gently.

Even after only a few seconds, you heard a sniffle followed by a wet feeling on your neck.

“Felix, baby...what's wrong?” You whispered, tilting his chin up so his eyes could meet yours. Tears were streaming down his face, and his lip quivered violently.

“I'm the luckiest angel in the world.” He croaked out through his soft sobs. “I'm glad I get to spend the rest of my life here with you.”

As his soft wings wrapped gently around your body, you finally realized that maybe love was around you this whole time. A sweet boy who loved you and always did his best to protect you, even if you couldn't see it at the time. You were truly grateful to God for sending him to you, and you knew your story with him was far from over. No matter what, you knew he'd always be there for you, and see the best in everybody.

“You really are my sweet angel, Felix.”

[brokenpieces-72]

Echo

Note: I have been working on this oc for a while, and there's a lot I wanted to do with them. This story is oc reader insert, so I leave the name open but the hero name is already established.

CW: Foster system (abuse of it), injured reader, financial abuse, car crash, let me know if I missed anything.

You know that feeling when everything seems to be falling apart? You’ve had it before, when you lost your parents and separated from your sibling in the foster system. You feel it now too along with plenty of soreness from your injuries.

You lay in the hospital bed, with your cracked phone screen. Foster parents hadn’t seen any of your texts and no phone calls had been answered. You messaged your sibling but they wouldn’t be able to make it to you. Your friends were either stuck at work or asleep right now. The nurses and doctor suggested calling a lawyer for yourself, since the other driver is a lawyer and his family wants to press charges. Insurance company has you covered for any other surgery or treatment they need to do so no need to contact them.

Still, you stare at your phone screen staring at the small text message history you have. You could try. He might be busy, but you could try. While your boss wasn’t the softest or kindest person, he still cared. Many not a lot, but at least a little. Then again, maybe it would be a chance for him to stop mentoring you, and go solo again. The pros and cons fight over what to say in the text. Regardless you wouldn't be out of hospital for a while so he needed to know that.

E: Hey boss, sorry but I can’t come in to work for the next couple days.

You shut your phone off after sending it. Then you turn it back on again, debating whether to delete it, edit it, or leave it. Honestly with the drugs in your system, it’s a little hard to make proper decisions. You know he’ll ask, you know he’ll be hard on you for reckless driving, but he’s all you’ve got right now. Right now you just need another person with you, even if they’re somewhat of a stranger.

Your phone rings. Holy crap it can still do calls? Whatever not the point. You answer the call without paying attention to the screen, though you briefly see the name. This would not be pleasant.

“Hello?” You answered, before coughing. Maybe you could cover up your sore voice as a sick one.

“What's going on?” Your boss asked.

“Uhh… can I…” you pause a lot, the war still going on, and fighting over your vocal cords. To your boss's credit he’s patient right now. Finally, you get something out. “Are you on patrol?”

You rub your head, praying you don’t have a headache coming on. Your boss takes a moment to answer.

“Yes why?” He asked. He sounds irritated. You don’t want a lecture when he gets here.

“Nevermind. Forget it.” You say quickly.

“Outlaw, answer the question.” He said.

“… I…” you swallowed. “I’m in hospital. No one can make it, and… was wondering if you could come see me?”

There’s silence again and you shut your eyes. This was a bad idea. You hear a sigh over the phone, and regret sinks in.

“Forget it, I’ll be fi-“

“On my way, give me a few minutes. Do you need anything?” Your boss asked.

“Maybe a change of clothes.” You suggest. “That’s kind of it.”

He hangs up, and you sigh. He was gonna lecture you, but at least he was coming. Especially if they needed to do more surgery. God knows your fosters wouldn’t come anytime soon.

Jason Todd arrived at the hospital, jacket on, hood up, and a small backpack with a change of clothes for you. Trying to see you as your boss likely wouldn’t work very well, but seeing you as your brother could pass. He approaches the desk where a nurse is typing away. The nurse looked up, seeing him almost towering over her.

“Here to see Y/N L/N.” he asked.

“Down that hall, room 168.” The nurse instructed. Jason made his way down the hall, keeping an eye out for the room. He stopped himself just outside your door, ensuring the face mask he brought covered his face. His eyes were uncovered, but the hood shielded them enough. Then he overheard you on the phone.

“It was an accident, I swear I did-no it wasn’t for attention. I was just-“ you tried to get a word in as your foster parents demanded to know why they were getting medical bills. Jason steps in, quietly as you continued to plead innocent. “I just went out to meet a friend, I wasn't even drinking. Insurance money will cover it, I checked. I'm not asking you to cover it, I'm just telling y-...Okay. I'll transfer the mon-I'll take it out when I get the chance.”

You’re on the phone getting yelled at until they finally hang up. Your head is down, and you're holding back tears. When you looked up you nearly jumped out of bed, seeing the large figure that had come into your room. The red hoodie was a dead giveaway. Jason stepped in and set the bag down nearby.

“What happened?” He asked, not bothering with a greeting.

“Car accident… don’t quite remember. I swear I was driving on the right side, and I tried to move out of the way, but…” you trailed off.

“At least you’re alive.” He pointed out.

“Yeah so I can get medical bills, foster parents barking at me, no car for the next who knows how long, and now I even have to get a lawyer because the family of the other driver says it was all my fault, and I won’t be able to go to work or go on patrol or even train.” You say, trying to keep the lump in your throat down. The last thing you wanted was to start sobbing.

Jason sits in a nearby chair. “You’ll need more than a couple days.”

“The couple days is just for me to get out of hospital, the rest I can do easily enough.” You say, shrugging. As if shrugging really got rid of the weight of everything. Red Hood needed Echo, they were close to a breakthrough in a fighting and drug ring.

“You need rest.” Jason told you.

“For a couple days, then I’ll be back on my feet. The next load is coming Thursday, I'll be fine by then.” You said firmly, but there was a crack in your voice from emotion. Sidelining is the last thing you want. You’ve worked too hard for him to take you out of the game. Jason is quiet in the chair. It looks like he staring at the floor or the bed but you know he’s looking at you under his hood. You refuse to break.

Jason knows you are though. You’re tired, you’re injured, you have morphine in your blood stream, and financially you’re fucked. When he sighs, you think it’s pointed towards you and your stubbornness. It’s not. He realizes that you’ve been carrying a lot more than he thought. Now he has to call for a favour, one he didn’t want to ask for.

“Kid, right now, you are unfit to fight-don’t interrupt.” He said, holding his hand up, before you could argue. “You’re injured, you’re stressed, and you’ll be distracted. The last thing I want is your death on my conscious because I let you get yourself killed.”

“I don’t need to be sidelined.” You said, your voice breaking.

“You’re being benched for your own good. When you’re ready to get back into the game, I’ll pull you in. Don’t rush it but don’t waste time.” Red Hood ordered. You nodded. It’s a bit of a relief, since you haven’t had much time for regular life, let alone time for yourself.

“How long do I have?” You asked. Of course you wanted to be on a time limit. Jason did it to you for a lot of your training, whether it was posting up or reaching a checkpoint.

“Knowing shit like this, it will take maybe a week or so until you’re out of here.” Jason thought out loud.

“Then I have to get a lawyer which is a week or so, I have enough money… I should. I can do that while I’m recovering, and then I have work, and my side job. Chores, extra because I’ll be away. Then getting my vehicle repaired which will take a while…” your voice broke again thinking about the work you had after you leave the hospital.

“Hey.” Jason said. You looked up at him and it’s the first time you’ve seen his eyes. They were more natural than you thought. For some reason you thought they’d be red or maybe yellow. “This isn’t a fight, focus on what’s in front of you. I’ll give you a month.”

“I won’t need a month.” You said, take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“You’re getting one. Consider it mandatory vacation or something.” Jason said.

You want to thank him, and hug him but you’re a little incapable. The relief is massive wave, almost drowning you. You look down at your broken phone, feeling it vibrate.

“Thank you.” You said, the tears finally breaking free from your eyes. You sniffle and wipe at them. “Sorry.”

“Just fucking cry kid. Your life is falling apart it’s a normal response.” Jason said.

You let out a small noise that he thinks is you laughing. You nod, wiping your eyes, and a small smile on your face. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you. You wouldn’t happen to know any lawyers would you?” You asked. Your phone vibrated and you checked it, seeing your friend had replied, saying he was close by.

“Recover for the first while, then worry about a lawyer.” Red Hood said. Jason notices you smile at your phone, and takes it as his cue to leave. “Rest. I’ll be in touch.”

Jason gets up, leaving the backpack. Once he steps into the hallway he sighs. He doesn’t want to make this call, he really doesn’t. But you’re his partner, his apprentice. Hell, you’re basically his Robin. Jason had a rough life. You might have what he didn’t, but that didn’t make your life perfect. He’d been pulled out of that struggle and sure it wasn’t perfect, but it was at the very least decent.

Once he’s out of the hospital, he dials on his phone. He didn’t want to but with the bs justice system Gotham has, you would need some help.

“Alfred?” Jason said, hearing a familiar older voice on the other end. “Is Bruce there? I need to talk to him.”

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving

[crescenthistory]

hey my love 💓💓 i just wanted to say that i am so infautuated with the way you write and the way you think, i can't seem to get enough. your characterizations hit for me 🤧 i don't know if this request is going to make any sense, but i was wondering if you could share some general headcanons you have for the slytherin gang? like, i want to see more of how your mind works and how you view them. it can be things about them you already actively include in your fics or things you think about but maybe haven't gotten to explore yet? idk, go crazy, we will eat it up regardless 💘

this. this is exactly the kind of ask writers want to get – you've basically just asked me to yap away about my favourite characters, don't mind if i do love<33 and i appreciate your sweet words so much, know that i deeply appreciate and love you mwah

characters: barty, evan, regulus, dorcas, pandora

cw: discussion of abuse (crouch sr., walburga black, students), foster care system, taxidermy/animal death, violence, mental illness, fire, mentions of canon-compliance (though not based around it)

the holy bible of crescenthistory canon for the slytherin skittles !

barty

this is something i haven't touched upon in any of my writings, but am eager to bring to fruition -> i view barty as eastern european

you give me a dark-haired, thick-browed, chaotic, loud, incredibly welcoming and loyal to those he loves, avid drinker and smoker, i will tell you he is eastern-european

i am not necessarily particular about which eastern-european country, but personally i am partial to romanian

this is partly because it's the nationality that fits best with the rest of my hcs (as it's a romantic language in eastern-europe, surrounded by slavic nations), because i think the stereotypes work well for barty's characterisation while also not putting him too much in a box (unlike for example russian) and i can just see it

romanian pet-names i think he'd use: Dragă (dear), Inimă (heart), Buburuză (ladybug), Frumoasă (beautiful), Soare (sun), Pisicuță (kitten), mami (lol)

i will also accept polish (known in europe for being high-energy and off the rockers), moldavian (alcohol is part of their blood) and bosnian (good-hearted, explosive temper)

specifically, i think his mother was eastern-european and his father was english; his mother tongue was romanian but they primarily lived in england because of his father, thus he went to hogwarts instead of durmstrang

because he is so fond of his mother, i believe barty feels a rather strong connection to his eastern-european culture and it's definitely something he brings up/jokes about a lot

this all ties into another important hc i have for barty, which is that he is The Polyglot TM -> and provides the reasoning for why (apart from the fact that he is freakishly intelligent)

growing up, his father was neglectful and rarely spoke to barty unless it was to scold him. romanian became barty's native language because he was only ever truly raised by his mother.

thus, i think he struggled with english quite a bit in the start, because he was not exposed to it to the same degree

when crouch senior used barty's lack of fluency in english against him, taunting him, barty experienced his first act of rebellion/spite by ensuring he became so fucking good at english

it was not enough for him to become fluent, he needed to be a master of it, even learning many different accents (which he often pull out for a joke or a party trick btw. suddenly he's just speaking with a heavy derry accent)

both to a) show off and 2) prove his father wrong

as he grew a bit older (all still pre-hogwarts), the thought of being so connected to his father's language kind of soured for him, and to counter act that, he decided to pick up as many eastern-european languages as he possibly could

barty is nothing if not petty, fuelled by spite for his father

thus, he learned russian (very common language in eastern-europe), moldovan (neighbouring country to romania), hungarian (neighbour) and serbian (neighbour)

most of the slavic languages are fairly similar, so once you learn one, it is "easier" to learn the others, especially at a young age

by the time barty started hogwarts, i think he was fluent in 6 languages already, toying with a few others

when he befriended regulus in his first year and found out he was french, his reaction was immediately "oh guess i've gotta learn french now too!"

both to know what regulus was saying and so that the two of them could talk shit together

as a romance language, it was fairly easy for barty as a romanian to adapt to it, which is also how he throughout his time at hogwarts also learned spanish and italian. maybe latin?

barty is intelligent, out-of-pocket, spiteful and loyal; thus he is the epitome of an eastern-european polyglot

i think it's also canon that barty received 12 owls? that is a piece of canon i am 100% compliant with. he is just wired like that, he is the type who does not need to study for it and loves to flaunt that in others' faces

lastly, while i often depict barty as aloof and careless, i view this as the persona/facade he is putting on for protection. i genuinely believe barty is so terribly vulnerable and has some grade A meltdowns during his time at hogwarts

i don't want to say outright that i hc him as someone with borderline, but i will say that my partner has borderline and kins him for that exact reason so. do with that what you will

the only people who truly get to see this is the skittles, you, his mother and james potter on one unfortunate evening (which led to him understanding and respecting barty like never before)

evan

first and most obvious: twins with pandora

he was born 12 minutes after her, though i don't view them as the type to argue about "oldest"

visually, i have always imagined them to be almost identical (sometimes one of them are hc-ed as trans and they are identical twins, but i think regardless that they have the same face, height and size)

absolutely angelic, ethereal creatures -> all sharp angles (in their faces, sharp teeth, almost fox-like) and large contrasts (dark skin, blonde dreadlocks & very white teeth, big noses and thin eyebrows)

the twins have hetereochromia -> one green eye and one brown and yellow (again with the contrasts)

evan is also a very contrasting figure between his looks and personality; i see him as an incredibly beautiful, almost feminine person who has a primal, stoic personality

the type of face that makes others' jaws go slack while his tightens painfully at their reactions

i have seen others hc that evan is called a "doll" by everyone because of his looks and i think that does something to him mentally over time

it sent him to a quiet, dark place before he found true comfort and belonging with the skittles -> by seventh year, i think they had made it into an inside joke

stoic in the sense that he does not speak before he has thought over his words extensively and his face is in a constant deadpan, not letting anything slip

incredibly observant, finds comfort and joy in watching others. it can be studying human behaviour and social cues, or watching others squirm under his watchful eye, relishing in their discomfort

i believe he was selectively mute for a period of his life and pandora spoke for him (twin telepathy is real with these two)

with the skittles, he was treated as a person of interest for the first time in his life, with particularly dorcas and barty prodding to find out who he is and what he thinks

this is how he grew comfortable with them; he tested the waters and when they liked him even more for all his weird, he let go with them

humour wise, i believe him to be the type that snickers and barks laughters when he is with his select circle

crude, direct, unapologetic, clinical, curiosity-driven, loyal, animalistic

he is not the type to snap, but rather to sit back with his emotions and let them simmer until he channels them into something dark

however, if one of His People TM snaps, he is loyal to a dangerous degree and will be right there with them, going for blood

(which is how he and barty always ends up in fist fights)

barty gave him his first piercings in third year (perhaps to offset the whole "doll" thing at the time) and ever since, evan has been getting more and more

if his body is an angelic vessel, he wants to decorate it as he fucking pleases

oh and i think he curses like a sailor. again with the contrasts between looks and personality

anything unorthodox or "unacceptable" catches his attention -> his mind almost gets hung up on certain concepts or thoughts like a scratched plate

it can vary vastly from things considered "immoral" to things people just look down upon -> e.g. taxidermy vs skating

fascination with creatures (human or animal or fantastical), their bodies (blood, bone, veins, etc.) and behaviour (social interactions, hierarchies, relationships, etc.)

the point is that evan himself has lived as an oddity his whole life, so he pursues oddities in all forms. a sense of belonging and understanding.

preferably does it all with pandora

in a muggle au, evan would either be a tattoo artist specialising in occultist imagery or a biologist within a super niche field of a species he became obsessed with -> same same but different

regulus

i apply the generally accepted headcanon that the black family has french roots and thus french was his mother tongue; he slips into it when deeply emotive (in either end of the spectrum) and he borrows his favourite words that he feels does not have a sufficient equivalent in english

for instance, he calls his love amour instead of just "love" because he feels like the word holds more meaning in his native language

personally, i don't necessarily view regulus as a polyglot -> i think he could learn spanish and italian if he felt like it, but he would rather pursue poetry and music

(though i do believe he has taught himself latin to be That Bitch)

i recently touched upon this, but i believe that regulus is the most exquisite violinist

all sacred 28 children are raised almost as royals with all the "traditional" upper class teachings of learning classical instruments, reciting sonnets, horseback riding (though perhaps a magical creature instead? thestrals?)

both regulus and sirius were taught the piano to begin with, but regulus excelled much quicker than sirius, and mastered the piano incredibly early on

(the boys were heavily pitted against each other and made to compete, and due to their age difference, this was one of the few areas regulus outdid him. i believe regulus always did better than sirius had at his age, he felt as if he was behind because sirius was better than him in the moment. so he absolutely cherished it, and thus made musical instruments a large part of his personality for the first half of his childhood.)

to continue im(proving) himself, regulus decided to try out the violin, and i believe this is the instrument he truly fell for

the violin is a more physically engaging instrument than piano (at least for regulus, pianists don't kill me) -> he has to move his whole body to make the sounds he chases after, he can hold his fingers down on the sharp strings until they bleed, he can clutch the violin in between his chin and shoulder until it bruises

it becomes a much-needed physical outlet for him as well as an artistic one

if we want to get very sad, i picture sirius unable to listen to any music with violins in them in the parts of his life he spends without regulus (for whatever reason)

generally, i view regulus as someone who appreciates the arts as an escape

i believe he also reads and writes poetry -> originally he mostly consumed and replicated the sonnets he had forced down his throat (shakespeare was probably a wizard, right?) but as he grew older and continued, he developed his own style

i think he primarily discusses different manifestations of pain and generational trauma in his works; these are the pieces he is proud of and considers publishing under a pseudonym

but when regulus falls in love, he falls hard and i think it would be impossible for him not to write sappy love poems; these are the pieces he stows away and vows to never share with the world, until he is old and married and healed and finds them once more and walks into the living room to show his partner as they laugh and cry together

i think his most emotive pieces are written in french, his most secretive ones are written in latin and the ones about healing and developing are written in english

i don't feel like i need to dive deep into it, but i obviously believe regulus is a cat animagus

(i think he either did it young simply because he could, or he found out that sirius was an animagus and refused to be upstaged once more, so he did it over the summer after he discovered it)

(because regulus black is what? petty as fuck)

(it's part of what bonded him and barty early on)

i also want to touch upon the fact that i often (though not always, and rarely explicitly) view regulus as transmasc

i might delve more into it one day, but for now i'll just say i think he would use he/they pronouns if given the opportunity

LAST thing i promise: crop tops. slutty waist. thank you!

dorcas

without a doubt, i view dorcas as the strongest of the group, maybe even the strongest of all marauders era characters.

this is referring primarily to her magic but also her will power.

her spells have an explosive force to the point where she prefers not to cast healing spells or casual spells, because her magic is too "rough" for it to be suitable. she's a strategist in that sense, often delegating such spells to others. she works on more permanent/solid spells, e.g. putting up wards, hexing objects, any and all battle spells, potions.

she is a proper scholar and a good student who gets top marks, but that is not where her talent or aspirations stem from. she knows her power and she wants to use it effectively and pragmatically.

that goes for her willpower as well. say it with me: dorcas "debate team champion" meadowes. she is blunt and direct and unapologetic about it. she believes there is such a thing as a "correct" opinion and she will tell you as much in a so devastating manner you cannot formulate a response.

(canon-compliant: this is why she was killed by voldemort himself. she went straight from the mckinnons' home to where she knew she would find as many death eaters as possible, and then she just unleashed everything she had. knowing it would kill her, a form of suicide mission. she could not live without marlene, could not take the grief, but she wanted her death to be worthwhile; thus, she let go and single-handedly caused the largest amount of casualties for the death eaters had had in one battle. it was voldemort himself because no one else could.)

most of this stems from a pathological need to prove herself.

unlike the other four skittles who all grew up in abusive homes (although in varying forms), i believe dorcas grew up in the foster care system. which in the uk 70s was not a pleasant experience.

i don't think she experienced many caretakers who were angry/violent, but i don't think they were involved or engaged with her at all. they were just there, she was just there, and that was that.

from her fellow children in the system, she learned both what love and hatred was. the first girl she kissed was a roommate at one of the houses she spent some weeks at. but in the orphanage she spent most time at, she was caught in a severely psychologically harmful environment among the children. there was bullying, there were fights, there was instability.

dorcas was a blurred face in a massive crowd, moving at full speed. she needed to stand out, she yearned to be someone.

so; she began proving herself and she never stopped. academically, socially, capability-wise. which is how she harnessed such massive power. she had to establish a strong sense of self and make it seem to others like she stood with her head held high at all times, even when she was feeling fragile or scared.

i don't think she had a temper like barty's though, nor was she so wrung-tight like regulus. she was not one to snap or shake. she fake-it-till-you-make-it-ed her self assuredness and honestly believes it herself until she is alone.

when she crumbles it is through exhaustion and maybe a few tears that lead to silent sobs. if you don't know to look for it, you would never be able to notice it when she's in bed.

"i'll keep everything bottled up right here thank you" and does so successfully until she is held gently and then she melts

from northern england in my mind. favourite curse word is "bloody" and she overuses it.

because she is confrontational and not afraid to ask the tough question, she is the ideal person to come to when you need to get some real advice. in that sense, she serves the same purpose in the skittles as lily does with the gryffindors. i think the two would bond a lot.

dorcas is really proud of her name. i think she feels a real connection with it and identifies with it – it's beautiful. despite this, she likes the nickname "cas" because it signals a closeness she has yearned for her whole life. as i already have written about a lot, she can and will kill you if you call her "dorc" (the skittles still do ("but it's with a c!").

i would not go as far as to call her a pyromaniac, but she has a fascination for flames. i think she identifies with them a lot, too. she would have many candles lit around her at all time, and plays with the wick and the wax when she's bored.

she likes to read kind of niche, disturbing literature. she likes tropes like "cannibalism as a metaphor for love", "transforming into a bug", "a relationship between a voodoo doll and its maker"

i always believed dorcas' features and voice to be rather soft. i think her voice especially was naturally quite airy and light, which she tried to fight against for years to make it louder and match the power she knows she harnesses and wants to exude. as she heals, she knows she does not need to. she can still command a room with her soft voice and can still lead an army with a soft face.

i feel like maybe one of the most disputed aspects of dorcas is her style? and i'll tell you right now, in my mind dorcas has a light academia meets princess mermaid style. and it is significant. she dresses like she is the president of the debate team and would be the best person to bring on a beach date at the same time. with potentially some witchy/whimsygoth undertones.

in a muggle au i picture dorcas as either being in the un or a professional volleyball player. i don't think i will elaborate.

pandora

nicknames "dora"

everything said for evan regarding looks of course also applies for pandora as his twin -> ethereal, angelic, "doll-like" looks, heavy contrasts in colours and features (including heterochromia and blonde dreads)

i occasionally view pandora as transfem (making her and evan identical twins) and i think their features are quite androgynous, though femme-leaning

when i view her as trans, i think it was evan who picked her name out with a reference to pandora's box

in general, "pandora's box" is a running joke within the friend group. there are no ends to how the term is used; it can refer to her mind, her room, her partner, her bag, etc.

she has had the same wide cloth shoulder bag throughout all her time at hogwarts, that she always patches up by hand using natural elements, and she has hexed it so many times (to have more storage, to not let anyone with ill intentions in, etc.) that it radiates this magical energy you can feel when your hand hovers above it.

pandora's oddities are just as severe as evan's, but partly because she's a girl they're more often brushed off as "whimsical" -> i argue this is a mistake on their part

she is not the flora to evans' fauna; they are both fauna, they are both primal and wild

the reason evan is more violent than pandora is largely because he does it out of loyalty to barty and because he has been shunned in a more aggressive manner due to gender roles. pandora instead can be mentally and magically violent, creating new jinxes that crush someone's psyche in ways previously unheard of, should need be.

she is also primal in the sense that she is a very tactile person -> she touches to understand and learn. she can randomly grab someone's chin mid-conversation or rub at their eyebrows. her friends are not fussed over this whatsoever anymore, carrying on their sentence without any disruption. others, not quite as much.

pandora collects bones and uses them with everything from her magic to jewelry or decor. she has a habit of giving the prettiest bone of whatever creature she is pilfering from to whoever she is happiest with at the moment, kind of like a crow.

she has a deep respect for all fauna and their way of life; she often finds it to be more logical than humans'

pandora thinks on a plane above most other people.

i believe her to be a seer, though not always in the traditional sense. she doesn't necessarily know everything that is going to happen (some of it, sure), but she sees thoughts and feelings that are about to form in the air around her. she sees auras and sounds too.

in fifth year, her and barty make a business out of her giving relationship advice based on the fact that she is a seer. unfortunately, she actually said it as it was, leading to some unhappy customers, leading to barty beating them up. not good for business (but hilarious stories at parties)

she enjoys crystals, tarots, sage and other things we usually associate with spirituality. she enjoys them both for the concept of occultism or otherness, and as actual tools for her more unorthodox approaches to magic. many of her friends don't quite believe it, but it always works when she uses it all on them, so they don't say anything. i think dorcas quite enjoys learning tarot from pandora, while barty makes up fake stories for the cards.

her seer-abilities leads to a lot of miscommunication and is in large part why she talks the way she does. on her own plane, she often misses certain social cues or sarcasms, while others aren't privy to what she bases her worldview on, because they cannot see it.

i have always thought her voice and way of speaking to be very similar to luna's (that's where she got it from). it's airy and light, like she is addressing more than just the people present in the room.

in my fics, i usually make her quidditch commentator for that reason -> people find it entertaining (some in good nature, some in taunting) and her insights in players' mindsets and actions is beneficial

incredibly kind and patient with her friends

i think she has a fascination with mirrors -> both the concept of reflecting back, the idea of distorted mirrors, using mirrors in her magic, etc. her house is full of them.

i often view her as on the aroace spectrum ("i have greater concerns"), but if she is not i think she either:

a) views relationships and situationships in an almost clinical sense; experimenting with quite a bit of detachment, maybe even taking notes of it, yet somehow in an innocent-ish way

b) mates for life. finds one person and goes oh yes this one'll do and stays with them forever. (which i suppose is what she did with lovegood?)

in muggle aus, i think she would work at a funeral home and be that soft, celestial presence that sticks with a grieving 8 year old for the rest of their lives like a loving ghost reminding you that death is natural and grief is loved persevering

on that note, given the option i fully believe she would have become a ghost. the only reason she isn't in canon is because she missed evan and regulus.

the whole gang

everyone has made out with each other at some point -> have you heard of the term queer platonic? yeah that's them

overprotective in every form of the word. supporting each other in their maniacalisms. a cohesive group to the core.

pandora and regulus are best friends who can talk about the real shit and understand each other on an almost cosmic level

regulus and barty are best friends who are back to back in any situation, ready to be with each other through the worst -> the type who have been close for almost too long and bicker like an old married couple because of it

barty and dorcas are best friends who "will do it if you do it" and end up in the most nidicolous situations together just for the laughs

if barty goes through a breakup, it's dorcas he calls. if regulus goes through a breakup, it's pandora he calls. if evan goes through a breakup, the group splits in half where regulus and pandora stay with him while dorcas and barty goes to kill the breakup-er

regulus is the mum friend of the group, the kind of exasperated mum who sprays her kids with a spray bottle and put them on leashes. when regulus is out of commission, big sister dorcas picks up the mantle in the most chaotic manner you have ever seen (swap the spray bottles for bug smackers and the tired sighs with screeching). pandora is constantly the aloof auntie. evan and barty are babies with no regard for safety (their own or others').

their interests loop together into funny weird little systems

for example: barty finds the dead animal (maybe kills it if we're being honest), evan experiments on its carcass and dissects it, pandora retrieves its bones afterwards and makes jewelry with it

another example: pandora likes creating paint from natural elements, evan likes using it for his skateboard, dorcas likes using it for her paintings and clothes, and barty likes huffing it

on graduation day, pandora handed them all little dolls of each of them that she made herself -> in reference to the "rosier dolls", showing that they were all dolls because they were all family. they looked like a combination of voodoo dolls and babushka dolls, painted, sown and bedazzled with button eyes. they treasured them.

when i write fics where the skittles never got involved with the death eaters at all (which is most of the time), i usually hc dorcas as half-blood and the discrimination she faced is a large part of the reason why they were turned away.

they will vocal stim at the same time together, particularly barty and pandora. it drives regulus mad, while dorcas and evan don't even notice it.

when barty got in fights, evan backed him up and eventually threw him over his shoulder when it was time to stop. if they were fighting someone who deserved it, regulus and dorcas would stand on either side and throw healing spells on the perpetrator/victim, so that the punishment could be prolonged without actually killing someone.

pandora is the only one with veto rights in the group. whether it is to stop an argument, decide who is right, decide what to do or any such thing, it is only her word that is final. it's not always it comes to that, but when pandora's soft voice says "stop" or "yes", that is the end all be all.

many of them were each other's first real hug.

i love them, your honour

[hanihazeljade]

TikTok Tim

TikTok has been a blast and of course, Richard has been bothering Tim to make an account for siblings bonding. But Tim got himself a newfound confidence and a new way to irritate the people around him.

(CW: thirst traps, TikTok, possible femboy content, swearing)

"Can we just talk about Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne?" A TikToker with million followers said, "Like this dude is seventeen turning eighteen in like 3 months and what he done in his almost 18 years of existence?" It showed a screenshot of a headline way back when he was attending grade school that he skipped two grades, "He skipped 2 years in school and even though he dropped for two years, because some tragedy happen in his life, he still managed to graduate high school the same year in his age range." Which is true, but with all hacking the school systems, he graduated.

"And I also discovered that he is emancipated from his foster parent, Bruce Wayne. Like at first it was insane because you got the Wayne to finance you but look at him, he is one of the biggest shareholder in the Wayne Enterprise and he already got so many praise especially from Lex Luthor," and then screen showed a clip of Lex saying, "I commend the young Drake-Wayne, even he doesn't have any degree in business, he knows how to handle one unlike some people that I know that have bachelors degree. But if you think about it, it must be in his blood after all his mother is Janet Drake, that woman is the scariest socialite in Gotham." And the screen turned back to the TikToker, "Dude doesn't have any degree yet get a praise from Lex Luthor? He is a genius I tell you." and with that the TikTok video ended.

It all started with that one video on how perfect and genius Timothy Jackson Drake. And it snowballed to edits, a thirst trap if you will, of Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. One TikTok video and the whole internet has been sleuthing every single picture, video of the new most eligible bachelor of Gotham City. And with that, #tim drake on TikTok have millions of views in span of 2 days. And it also doesn't help that Tim's life has been exposed in the different tabloids since he was a kid, being a member of a elite society especially in Gotham. He doesn't really know and care but with so many people doing a deep dives in his life, it kind of unsettling.

He scrolled again and it was a thirst trap edit. And he decided to exit the app, enough internet for the day.

"Timmmyy." Dick whined as he was begging Tim to make a TikTok account for 1, he can do those trends with Tim and two, he wants Tim to see those thirst traps edit of himself and it has been seven days straight. And Tim's patience has been wearing thin.

"I will, once I finished these reports." he said with no intention of doing it and gonna said that he forgot about it.

"No, do it now. I know your schemes, Timmy." Tim sighed with the insistence, "Then come back here later for you to remind me then."

++++++

"So, my brother Richard has been keep bothering me to make one of this account and apparently, many people tried to make a little clout so I am going to make one to gather all the clout." Tim said with a blank stare but let out a snort at the last part. "I will probably never upload anything again but yep, hope you are happy, Richard." and with that the video ended. 2 hours later after that video got uploaded, his account boomed to 2.3 million and his first video got featured in some internet forums and articles were being published online.

++++++

"And he finally succumbed to the Tiktok." Jason said as soon as he walked to his penthouse and Tim rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing here, oh mighty Jason?" Tim rolled his eyes, sarcasm is dripping to those words.

"I thought you are better than Dick but it seems like I was mistaken."

"Pot. Kettle. Just because I was on the side of edit Tiktok and you are in booktok doesn't make you the top. You are giving pick-me vibes, ngl."

"Did you really just said ngl instead of not gonna lie?"

"Did I stutter?"

++++++

Tim thought it will be cool if he just upload another Tiktok video after months of abandoning his account. He look at the trends and some old trends and he particularly got stuck in the transition videos and he took liking on the one audio edit of Jade West saying, "What's the prob, dog?", and he is a gremlin for a reason.

So, he was there chuckling at himself with the thought of the internet will never know what's gonna hit them.

+++++++

Tim likes to do a little bit of thirst traps in his content but he also like just to gave his audience what he does in his free time whenever he is done reading and signing the needed papers, like typing in his computer or solving a rubiks cube. And he keeps getting millions of views every time and it is such a ego boost for him.

But he also likes the videos with prominent people in United States, most is just him and Lex Luthor doing stupid shits and every time it will happen, both the stocks of WE and Lex Corp is going up and somehow that made both Tim and Lex being close yet hating each other so much.

The Justice League, specifically Superman, is very much annoyed and not happy about Tim's association to one of the prominent villains in the existence. But all Tim does is send them a lip sync video of him with the audio of, "Do I give a fuck? No, not one. How many fucks do I give? Zero. Exactly, so therefore your comment is irrelevant." And he called it a day. He is still fucking salty of about his worst year of his fucking life. He will not going to forgive those assholes when they didn't even apologise.

But somehow the limit of his TikTok freedom is having him doing a thirst trap in a form of being a femboy. Listen. Tim knows he will never be a brickhouse like Jason and Bruce but god forbid his BMI doesn't go up to 20 even in his peak body mass. He was always has been a twink and he also doesn't like that but apparently, that type of body is a perfect "bottom/submissive" material based on the different manhuas he having been indulge himself the past month.

++++++++

Dick was scrolling at his fyp page that was full of animals, gymnastics and Justice League edits - because, and he got in a video of a guy sitting on a red couch doing a simple transition of throwing his black shoe and then changing his casual fit to a more formal attire and it was a smooth transition on Dick's observation and he subconsciously goes to the comments because he wants a laugh at the thirsty comments.

Did anyone notice how smooth that transition is?

Lol, that is a big ass shoes

He is a mighty fine fella

WHY DOES NOBODY IS COMMENTING THAT THE ACCOUNT IS TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE?

Dick blinked once at that comment. And he blinked again. He closed the comments and swipe left. And the comment is right, it take him on Tim's verified account with now two videos.

When did Tim had a 5.6 million followers?!

Tim already on the same following count as him and he was still definitely gonna get more. Dick is now kind off regretting his decision if putting Tim in TikTok.

+++++++

The next month was shown that Tim doesn't have any schedule that follows his uploading, it seems like he upload wether he like. But the ones that broke the internet is the one thirst trap that Tim posted.

Ashley, look at me

Tim made the hand movements for the transition and from the Saint Laurent sweater, it is Jason's, Dick knows because he just saw Jason wear it like two days ago and it was paired with a black slacks and it turns into a oversized silk dress shirt and it looks like nothing underneath and Dick hopes that there is a boxers underneath because God forbids, he will delete Tim's TikTok account. In that video, it showcases Tim's long, pale, scarless legs, which is a fucking lie, he doesn't how Tim did it but that is a fucking lie. And oh boy was the comments are wild.

He is a sugar baby with the money of a sugar daddy

I'm straight but damn

yeah that's it, I'm bi now

I can hit that any time if he hit me up

Wait! I AM CONFUSED

Am I.. into this?

bottom vibes ngl

Dick stops reading the comments. TIM IS HIS LITTLE BROTHER! Sure he's nineteen but Dick felt uncomfortable looking at his brother's thirst trap, that he made himself. He immediately message Tim to stop posting thirst traps and Tim just reply with, 'Well, you have to face the consequences of forcing me to this damn app'.

He will be damned, he thought.

[keresnotceres]

Say You’re Mine (Good, Good, Great pt 2)

Ghost x Fem!Reader

[nsfw] cw(s): rdr is being a slut again, jealousy, possessive undertones, SEX, rough sex, oral (m receiving), throatfucking lol, p-in-v sex, ghost getting called ‘big boy,’ unsafe sex oops.

4.7k words In honor of 200+ followers (wtf guys thank u) & by the request of many, I present to you: Good, Good, Great pt2 :) This is just shameless porn with an egregious amount of plot. Enjoy my lovely dovies <3 (Also Ghost has a short refractory period for uh,, plot reasons).

A few months after his jealousy at Myth, Ghost gets sent on leave. When he arrives home at 12 AM on a Friday night, he promptly decides to pay you a little visit at work. You, however, are once again testing his patience (and he doesn’t take particularly kindly to that).

Roughly three months later, you’re working a busy Friday night at Myth, and damn it, you’re making sure that you’re making good money tonight. Flirting was easy; men were easy. Just making them think you were the least bit interested did wonders for your tips. Sure, you didn’t make as much as the girls on stage, but it was pretty damn close to it.

You made your way downstairs after taking a few orders from assorted tables upstairs, going to the servers closet to ring them into the system when the hostess scurried over and told you about a party of 8 at Center Table 3 before skittering on back to the stand to greet another guest or five. After putting your tables’ orders, you began to prepare yourself for the nightmare that this 8-top was about to be.

It was only 10 PM, and you had hope they wouldn’t stick around until closing. As you make your way through the sea of customers on the first floor, you spot the table; even better, you spot the perfect person to flirt-till-you-die with.

He was rather young, maybe 21 or 22, and looked like he would see white if you even smiled at him. He came in with some sort of bachelor party, and you were expecting the worst sort of groom-to-be and his just-as-bad groomsmen. Your target looked the most frightened to be there, like if he said the wrong thing he would be thrown to the curb; which meant he was the perfect man to squeeze some money out of. The men around him would probably cheer him on for getting special attention.

You walk over to the table with a smile etched onto your face, swaying your hips just enough to be noticeable, and put a small bounce into your steps. You stop next to the man at the head of the table and wait for the group to quiet from their unnecessarily in-depth conversation about their favorite actresses.

“I’ll be taking care of you guys tonight,” you introduce yourself. “Can I get you guys started with a bottle or are you looking for something by the glass?” You look down at the man you’re next to, tilting your head a bit.

He looks up to you, not even bothering to hide the stare he gives your tits. “What beers do you have here?”

You nod a bit, launching into the list. “We have Budweiser, Guinness, Foster’s, Carling—” The man put his hand up to stop you, making some sort of interrupting noise.

“I’ll take a Foster’s,” he says blandly. He gestures to another one of his friends to order, head swiveling back over to the stage as a dancer makes her way on. If you didn’t want to take a glass and shove it up his ass at that moment, the following hours of their presence would definitely make you want to.

You stretch your lips into the kindest customer service smile you can muster and look at the next man. When you get to the last drink of the table, the poor man you were planning on hitting in til’ he couldn’t see straight, you step closer.

“And what can I get you?” You make your voice just a little bit sweeter and lean down a bit.

His eyes dart from your face to your breasts, then dart back up. “A whiskey sour,” he blurts out, tacking on a quiet ‘please’ as a second thought.

“Of course,” you smile at him, then look up to the rest of the group. “I’ll be right back with those drinks.” You turn away, and as you’re walking towards the servers closet, you can hear some cheers and a catcall from the table.

Once you’re in the server's closet, you drop the painfully plastic smile and fish a coworker’s Elfbar from the pile of check books and pens on the table below the kiosk. As you enter drink after drink, you take a hit from the vape, letting the nicotine take the place of smacking your head against the wall repeatedly.

You send the final drink, a fucking whiskey sour of all things, and groan. Another bottle girl comes speeding into the server’s closet, a sour look on her face.

“What’s it today, Mel?” You ask, eyebrows raised as you lean against one of the walls.

Mel looks at you disgruntled, like she was about to lose her shit. “My table just tried to order five espresso martinis and then got mad at me when I said we couldn’t do them tonight.” She taps a few buttons of the kiosk rather aggressively. “Then proceeded to ask for an extra strong vodka cran, but to only be charged for a single.”

Mel taps on the mixed drink button, then on the vodka button, then cranberry, then double. “Fuck her,” she hisses, taking the Elfbar right out of your hands.

It’s only after she takes two hits from it that she asks whose it is. You don’t know either.

The night continues like that, with Mel being perpetually pissed off at a table and you staving off the urge to bash your skull in with a vaguely blueberry smelling vape.

When the clock hits midnight, you don’t have the Cinderella moment that some part of you wishes you could have. You don’t get to rush home, fall asleep, then wake up to your prince charming searching for you. No, of course you don’t.

Instead, you get the worst hit from someone’s cart that leaves you fighting for your life and, much worse, the nightmare bachelor table waving you down.

“What can I help you guys with?” You look around the table, waiting for someone to speak up.

One of them takes one for the team, finally. “We wanted to get a bottle of something, but Nick here decided to wave you down before we figured out what to get.” He jerks a thumb in the direction of the man you decided to target.

So your victim's name is Nick, huh?

You put a hand to your mouth and force out a laugh; a man likes it when you laugh at things he says. “It’s alright, I don’t mind waiting for you to decide.” Your eyes flicker to Nick, meeting his for a fleeting second.

It was almost too easy.

You smirk at him, putting on your best charm. “Since you gave me the false alarm, how ‘bout you buy me a drink?” A few of the guys at the table chuckle, as expected. You take the opportunity to walk up to him, getting closer.

You put your hand on the back of his chair, leaning your body weight into it, your fingers facing him. Nick looks up at you like a girl looking up at some ugly guy she’s giving a blowjob to, and it takes everything in you to give him a simple, sultry smile in response instead of a fit of laughter.

You look over to the groom-to-be, waiting for him to decide on the table’s bottle. And then you see a familiar jacket in the corner of your eyes, with a familiar build and a familiar surgical mask covering half of a very familiar face.

God damn, Simon Riley might just be everything you needed tonight.

Once again, he didn’t even bother to call to tell you he was coming home. You couldn’t stay mad at him for long, though. The rational part of your brain blue-screens, leaving only the work-oriented brain and the stupid slut brain left. And the work-oriented part of your brain wants to make good money, so that’s exactly what you’re going to continue doing.

There’s something about fucking with Simon that thrills you. Maybe it’s the fact you know you’ll get something good out of it, or maybe you’re just a little messed up in the head.

You look away from Simon and swivel your head back down to the poor soul you’ve chosen to pay off your car insurance. Your hand shifts so that your fingertips rest gingerly on Nick’s shoulder, and boy does it do wonders.

His look of ‘blowjob innocence’ morphs into ‘holy shit a woman is interested in me’ and some of his friends croon oohs, another whistles. You peel your eyes away from Nick and look to the groom, “have you decided on a bottle?”

He looks over at you from the bottle menu with unfocused eyes. “We’ll do, uh, a bottle of Jameson and,” he squinted back at the menu, then looked at a friend. “What vodka did you want?”

The friend looks up from his lap, his illuminated face darkening. “Oh,” he leans over to look at the menu, then looks at you. Or, rather, he looks at your tits. “Grey Goose.” You fight the urge to raise your eyebrows and question him, but manage to smile politely and nod.

“I’ll bring those right down for you boys.” As you leave the table, you let your fingers trace Nick’s shoulder lightly. Your gaze slowly finds Simon when you turn away, and he simply stares at you, his usual bourbon nestled in a hand.

With a cheeky smile on your face, you skitter over to Simon to greet him.

“Hi there,” you croon, “what’s a big boy like you doin’ here?” Simon gives no hint at a change in attitude, you don’t even see a single hint that he’s smiling under the mask. You pout at him, “at least say hi.”

His eyes are unusually steely, like they had been months ago during his surprise visit. “Stop touching him.”

Your faux pout melts into a grin, “jealous?” You ask, stepping forward. “Again?”

He looks away from you, eyes flicking to the dramatic scene of some random movie playing on one of the bar TVs. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You lean into him, breasts pressing up against his bicep. “Come on, big boy,” you goad, “no need to act nonchalant.”

He lifts his arm to push you off, not even bothering to look at you. “You heard me,” he says, “don’t touch him again.” His words only push you to question him further, if anything, they make you want to get more handsy with — what was his name? Nate?

“Or what?” You press, cocking your head to the side to catch his eyes again. “You gonna kill him?” Simon’s eyes flit to you, flashing with some sort of challenge.

His eyes bore into yours, “maybe.” His gaze moves away from you again and his free hand slips up to pull down the surgical mask and take a sip of bourbon.

His lackluster response leaves you itching for more. You huff at him and slink away to the server’s closet to put the two bottles on the bachelor party’s tab. You trudge up the stairs to the second floor, eyes sweeping over the chattering people at tables.

You grab the two requested bottles from the upstairs bar before visiting a few of your tables on the second floor, checking in with a sweet smile before heading back down to the bachelor party. You give your poor cheeks a rest as you bounce down the stairs, your face falling into a bored resting face before it stretches right back into that damn customer service smile that you managed to perfect over the years.

You pass by Simon on your way back to the bachelor party, his eyes give you a brief warning before they flick back to the TV screen. It only makes you want to make him mad.

After you’ve set the bottles on the table and brought over new glasses (including a few shot glasses) for their liquor, you go right back to flirting with whatever-his-name-is. Your hand rests fully on his shoulder as you chat with the table, paying special attention to Nigel (or was it Nico?).

You can practically feel Simon’s eyes burning a hole through you as you do so, and it makes you wonder just how much he really cared about this little stint of yours. Nevertheless, you let your victim of the night continue to think he’s special, you even get roped into feeding him a shot of the Grey Goose.

Nick (you were reminded of his name by one of his friends goading him into taking shots) starts to get more handsy with you, to which you kick it up a notch. As you gently hold the shot glass up to his lips, his hands snake up and rest on your hips, keeping you in place as his friends count down until he has to take the shot.

You lean forward with the shot glass after someone shouts ‘zero,’ basically shoving your tits into his face as he took his shot of top-shelf vodka. You congratulate his semi-decent shot taking skills in an effort to make yourself seem like you really like him.

“Good job,” you purr, hand raising to stroke his hair once before falling back to your side. “Took that so well.” When you step away, the man looks like he’s in a stupor.

You turn to look at Simon with a cheeky smile engraved on your lips, only to receive a very pointed glare.

When the bachelor party finally leaves at around 1:30 AM, after what feels like for-fucking-ever, you wander over to the table to pick up the check. Your flirting really paid off.

A tip of £200 on a bill of roughly £600 — almost a 35% tip. Making money off of men was ridiculously easy. Even better, you finally get to go the fuck home! You silently thank your manager for not giving you the closing shift and get your shit before anyone can pester you to stay longer.

Simon’s waiting for you at the door, staring straight through you as you make your way to him with your work bag slung over your shoulder. He doesn’t make any effort to speak, and you’re frankly a bit too burnt out to comment on it. You pass him your car keys, unwilling to drive after your nightmare shift.

The drive home is quiet, not even the cheesy radio music breaks the silence despite the volume being on level 30.

As soon as he pulls into your parking space of the building lot, he turns the car off and flings your keys back over to you. You amble into the building,

Simon’s hands are on your waist before you can even put your keys down, you barely register that the door shuts behind the two of you as his fingers dig into your hips.

You snicker at him, “you weren't jealous, huh?” Simon doesn’t respond verbally, just hoists you into the air and puts you over his shoulder like you weigh absolutely nothing.

His reaction is nothing he hasn’t done before, but there’s a heat in your abdomen that tells you that you’re going to call out of work tomorrow. Well, that, and the fact that Simon’s had a hard on for the entirety of the drive home and you really wanted to fix that problem for him. Bottom line is, you’re horny, he’s horny, it’s going to be a long fucking night.

It’s what you needed after around 7 months without being stretched out by Simon. It’s what he needed after watching you get touchy with someone who wasn’t him. If you didn’t end up sprawled out on Simon’s bed, incoherently moaning words as he fucked you dumb in 30 minutes, you were both going to have an issue.

As expected, when he got to the top of the stairs, he turned right instead of left, going into his room instead of yours. His room was mostly untouched, the comforter a little crumpled from the time you passed out on it after taking one too many blinkers a few weeks ago (you’ve found you really like being in his room when you aren’t sober).

He shuts the door behind him and drops you on the bed on your back, further disheveling the dark gray comforter. You push yourself up onto your elbows, encouraged by the rustling of Simon’s belt coming undone.

“Get on the floor,” he tells you, “on your knees.” You make an absentminded noise in response and shuffle to the end of the bed, sliding off with relative ease. He tells you to do something else, but you’re too absorbed in your own world to hear him.

Simon walks towards you, hand resting atop your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he sits down on the edge of the bed in front of you. “Not fuckin’ listening to me anymore, huh?” His grip on your hair tightens and he moves your head back and forth.

“You’ll fix that tonight, yeah?” He eyes you like a man starved, you can’t find the words to speak, nor can you move your head under the grip he has on your hair. He seems to take your silence as a ‘yes.’

Your eyes roam to his torso, to which part of you is disappointed by the presence of his shirt. Then, you look further down to the very obvious tent in his briefs. Your head goes to move closer on instinct, but Simon holds it back.

You struggle against his hold for a few seconds before sighing and giving up, looking up at him with a frown. He looks down at you, a cocky smirk adorning his lips.

“You need to learn patience,” he grumbles, pushing your head to the side and retracting his hand to move the waistband of his underwear.

Your head returns to its original position almost immediately, anticipation coursing through your body. You’re basically salivating at the thought of having Simon down your throat.

In all honesty, Simon should be grateful you were taught manners at a young age, because otherwise you would’ve slapped his hand away the second his head popped out of the dark fabric and taken him all for yourself.

In substitute, you shuffle closer to him, knees scratching against the carpet.

Simon pulls his cock out, finally, and gestures for you to have your way. You pounce on the opportunity, hands flying up from your sides. One settles on his thigh as a support as the other slips down, thumb pressing against the tip. You can feel Simon jerk under you from the contact, and it only makes you dart forward and press your closed lips to the side of his cock.

You part your mouth and flatten your tongue against him, dragging it upwards until you reach the head again. You let your mouth part further and take him in slowly, teasingly.

Simon’s hand grips your hair, pushing your head further down on his cock. A low groan escapes his throat as you take him in your mouth and his fingers twitch in your hair.

He bucks his hips up, watching as you take all of him in diligently without even so much as gagging. He doesn’t expect anything less from you. He keeps an even pace until the need gets to him, until the haze ends and he remembers why he has you on your knees; why he’s not supposed to be nice and even.

He picks up his pace, rutting into your mouth quicker than you can take, leaving you gagging on his cock as he holds your head in place. Your moans turn staccato, the sound of Simon’s balls slapping against your chin falls behind your stifled gagging. It’s a rhythmic disaster, but fuck, it’s music to his ears.

At some point, he stops thrusting into your mouth and simply pistons your head up and down his cock with a hand. You’re nothing but a drooling mess, looking up at Simon’s face through your eyelashes, blinking through tears. He appears to be the polar opposite of you. His eyes are calm and his lips are settled into a thin line; the only thing that lets you know he’s relishing in this is the twitching of his cock down your throat and the low groans he lets out occasionally.

That is, until his jaw sets and his grip on your hair gets tighter. His other hand takes a fistful of your hair as well and holds your head in place again, his hips thrusting forwards and retracting faster than you can even react to. Your hands fly to his thighs, nails digging into the denim as he ruthlessly ruts into you. You’ve given up on trying to breathe.

Simon’s mouth opens slightly, a shuddered breath tumbles out and your lips quirk up ever so slightly. “Fuck,” he hisses, dull fingernails scratching your scalp in a mind-numblingly good way. He bucks into you harshly, then again, and a groan feathered by pants fills the air as cum drips down your throat.

His cock is heavy on your tongue as he pulls out and you’re quick to dart back to it and lick small beads of cum off head. His torso spasms at the action and his hands yank you back by the hair. You whine, trying to wriggle loose of the iron grip the man has on you, but stop once he lets go.

Through labored breathing, he tugs you off of your knees and pulls you up to him. He falls back onto the bed, taking you down with him. You quite enjoy straddling over him, breasts dangling below you as your hands press into the mattress on either side of his head.

You give him a stupid smile, “out of breath, big boy?”

He scoffs at you, the only evidence that he just came in your mouth is his lack of a boner. “Don’t say things you’ll regret, love.” The pet name sends a swarm of butterflies to your stomach, (rather, your ovaries). His hands come out of nowhere, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back, suspending you in the air over him. “Don’t think I forgot what you like,” he muses, “what a slut.”

His eyes gloss over you, when he gets to your skirt and fishnet tights, he frowns. “Told you to take ‘em off,” he mutters, moving so that both of your wrists are held in just one of his hands. It’s both a blessing and a curse that he’s built like a tank. His free hand snakes down and tugs on the edge of your skirt, making you splutter out a few words of warning.

“Let me undo it,” you plead, “you’ll break it.” He looks at you unimpressed as you try to get him to not ruin your favorite skirt. He relents, miraculously, and maneuvers you to straddle over his thighs. You don't bother trying to take your time as you undo the inner clasp of your skirt before unzipping it. Your right hand grips his as you shift your weight onto your right knee while the left hand pulls the skirt off of you, then vice versa.

Simon’s patience runs thin when it comes to your fishnets, and pushes you down onto his chest by the shoulders. With your ass in the air, he simply rips the fabric until he’s satisfied. Now you’re even more horny, but you also have a giant hole in the crotch area of your only pair of fishnets.

He makes a noise somewhere between a grunt and an appreciative noise. “Better.” His fingers brush over your underwear, letting out a quiet laugh at the damp fabric. Your hips jerk against the ginger touches from his hands, making him pull his hand away.

A whine breaks through your throat, your lips pulled down into a pout. His eyes flick to yours, the look sending shivers of ecstacy down your spine.

“You don’t deserve that,” he murmurs. “Come on, you know the rules.”

You give him a pleading look, eyes straining to see his from your face-down ass-up position. “Please?” You know it won’t work, his resolve is entirely too strong to be folded by the likes of your begging.

You get your answer as he grabs you by the waist and tosses you to the side. Faster than you can even make a remark at, he’s looming over you, hips trapped between his knees, dog tags dangling down.

“Don’t try to beg,” he chastises, voice low. A hand moves your soaked underwear to the side and he gently presses his tip against your pussy. It’s nothing but a tease, but it has you squirming for more, and there’s a vicious little grin on Simon’s face that sparks something in you.

He doesn’t bother to warm you up, and, really, you would’ve been frustrated by having his fingers stretching you out rather than his dick. Is that a safe sexual practice? No; but right now, you didn’t care about that, you just wanted to get dicked down.

After what feels like an eternity of teasing (in reality, likely just about five minutes), Simon finally pushes the tip of his cock into you. He pauses, then slowly pushes inch after inch into you until he’s balls deep in you and you’re damn near rolling your eyes into the back of your head from the feeling of him.

It had been too fucking long since you felt him inside you, since he stretched your insides to fit his cock so perfectly that he mumbles compliments into your ears when he feels like being nice.

He stays buried inside your pussy and looks you in the eye, another challenge. “You wouldn’t let him do this, would you?” He asks, arms lifting off of your body to cross over his chest. “No,” he responds for you, his hands darting back down to grab your waist. “You’re mine.”

And, oh, that admission sends waves of giddy excitement through your body.

“And I’ll prove it.” It’s a rather ominous statement, but he doesn’t even give you the time to register that before he pulls out from you and slams right back in. Then again. Then again, and again, and again until a rough, even pace is set.

Even, however, is not what you wanted. You wanted rough, fast. You could mumble for him to go faster all you wanted, but Simon wouldn’t budge. If he wanted to, he could go as slow as he possibly could just to keep you frustrated.

But even Simon is only human, and he can’t resist the urge to rut into you with reckless abandon.

His hips jolt against yours, a muttered expletive turns into a pant of ‘fuck’ and barely contained groans as Simon all but slams into you. The sound of skin hitting skin accompanies the noises falling out of your mouth, Simon’s hushed tones, and the bed frames occasional creak to create a melody of pure lust.

You find yourself unable to hold yourself together any longer, thighs twitching and abdomen getting tighter as Simon continues to pound into you like there’s no tomorrow (would it technically be ‘no today?’ It is 2 in the morning, after all). You can’t even bring yourself to form the words before you’re cumming on Simon’s cock while it’s thrusting in and out of you.

A whine builds in the back of your throat, your legs tighten around Simon’s waist, trying to pull him closer into you as the heat builds in your abdomen. One of his hands lifts from off of your waist and runs through your hair.

“I can tell,” he manages to get out through almost undetectable grunts. “You’re barely hanging on, huh?” He’s taunting you. “Go on,” he mutters, shifting just enough for him to rub against you in an entirely new angle.

You make a collection of noises, a moan that devolves into a whimper, and eventually squeaks as Simon continues to fuck you through your orgasm until he eventually starts pouding into erratically, an uneven pace that only gets more and more mind-numbing until he’s pulled out of you and you can feel your lower stomach be painted with his own orgasm.

It’s just seconds later that he leans his head down and presses his forehead to your. A simple, but oh so damning gesture of intimacy. His breath puffs against your face, warm and quick, but you can’t help but lean into the touch.

🍒: @xaestheticalien @clear-your-mind-and-dream @stunkbiggu @abbiesxox @nijiru @lanu-la

[3thansl4ndry]

never felt so alone

pairing - ethan landry x fem!reader

summary - ethan's conflicting emotions come out to play when he realises what he has to do to avenge his brother.

cw - canon violence, intended lower case, angst, character death, swearing

a/n - my first ethan landry fic im so fucking terrified, i kinda hate but also love this.

word count - 1.5k

ethan knew that he didn't want to kill you. his sister, quinn, had picked you out for him, you would be ethan's first real kill following on from what had happened in New York - you would also, as it turns out, be his first real girlfriend.  you were the perfect first kill,  you lived alone;  your parents were killed in a car accident when you were 12, and since they had burned all of their bridges with their extended family members, you were left to the broken foster care system, of which you were released when you turned 18 - it was perfect, ethan would kill you, and no one would miss you. that was the initial plan, until ethan found himself getting attached to you - he didn't actually love you, did he?

he knew he loved you when he realized he couldn't end your life the way that his father and sister wanted him to. he knew that there was no one in your family that would miss you, but he would - he would miss the feeling he got in his tummy when he would fall asleep in your bed with you beside him, he'd often wake up with your arm in his face from the way you sprawled out when you slept, but he never minded. he would miss the way that you make jokes about his geek-ish interests, about how you never understood the order of any of the star wars or the marvel movies he loved - and despite all of your jabs at his interests, you watched every single movie with him, even if you were bored to death, his excitement at the little details made your heart warm.

it was all of these things that made what ethan was about to do all the much more difficult. he really, really didn't want to kill you. but he had to. he had to do it, to finish of his brother's movie and honour his legacy - to try and make his father proud. however, ethan wasn't sure if all of those factors were worth your life. before he could rethink his choices, he crouched down by the wall of your apartment building, holding onto the railing of the fire escape as he pulled out his phone - double checking that his caller id was off, if it wasn't, he wouldn't do it - and called your number.

you looked over at your desk as you heard your phone vibrating, shoving your laptop off of your lap and pushing your duvet off, you got out of bed to go and investigate who was calling you, your brows furrowing as you saw that the number was withheld. you unplugged your phone, letting the cord drop to the floor as you held the device to your ear, accepting the call.

"hello?"

ethan poked his head up, making sure you were focused on the call, but he couldn't think of anything to say to you, opting to stay silent as he tried his hardest to quietly break into your apartment. guilt was starting to eat at him, he had told you he couldn't hang out with you tonight, saying he had econ and he would see you the next day to make it up to you, even though he knew that the likelihood was that you would be bleeding out by the next day, dead in your apartment.  when you heard nothing but radio silence on the other end of the line, your heart rate picked up, along with your adrenaline levels - you had seen a lot of horror movies, and claimed you would be smarter than any of the girls that they portrayed in them, this was the moment that you know that all of that was out of the window.

"This isn't fucking funny," you scolded the person on the other end of the line, you didn't have time for childish bullshit like this. you turned around, swallowing hard as you saw the figure of a ghostface standing on your fire escape, the dark figure illuminated by the streetlight and the light provided by the moon. acting fast and on your pure adrenaline, you reached for the knife you kept tucked in between your mattress and bedframe, gripping it tightly in your hands. you jumped back as the figure threw themself through your bedroom window, smashing the glass into pieces as they fell to the floor with a grunt before quickly picking themselves up before charging at you. you sprinted out of your room and down the hallway, where the masked person followed you to. "What do you want?" you tried your hardest not to show how terrified you truly were.

ethan knew that you were scared, but he wanted this over with. he would make it quick for you, hell, maybe he'd even tell you it was him, maybe it would make it hurt less, but there was something not right, he watched as your fear turned into...excitement? what was going on? he moved towards you, only to be met with a picture frame smashing over his head, the glass shattering as it fell to the floor.

"stay the fuck back. i'm warning you," you waved the knife in front of the ghostface's mask, noticing they had dropped their weapon in your attack. "you think you can come in here and just try and kill me? yeah, nice try. the last people who tried that ended up in a car wreck, brake failure." ethan's heart dropped. you had killed your parents? now it all made sense. your reluctance to talk about what had happened was not merely a trauma thing, it was a murder thing. ethan now realised he was now both the prey and the predator, either one of you could be the crime scene in the days following, this was yours and his game now. before he could react, you shoved your knife through ethan's shoulder, forcing him onto the ground, you pushed through his back, driving the knife into the floor of your apartment. acting upon an adrenaline rush, ethan pulled your knife out of his shoulder, anger flooding him - you were going to kill him?

no, he couldn't have that. he had something to prove. suddenly, the entire way ethan felt about you changed - your life to him was no longer of any importance. his anger took over as he discarded the ghostface mask, you didn't deserve to die thinking that he loved you anymore.

"ethan?" your voice waivered. no. no no no no no. ethan, your sweet, dorky, nerdy boyfriend was trying to kill you. you no longer felt as confident as you did, your heart breaking as ethan got up onto his feet, gripping your knife. he chuckled as he pointed your own weapon at you. "no. what...what are you doing?"

"what do you think i'm doing? you think i'd show you my face if i was gonna let you live? oh, you sweet, dumb thing," you were convinced this was another ethan, this wasn't your boyfriend - this was just a monster that possessed his body - he told you that he loved you, no one had told you that before. you trusted him more than anyone in the world. you struggled in ethan's strong grip as he held you, your back to his chest. "you know, i really did love you," he told you. "well, that was until you tried to kill me, bitch."

before you could react, he drove the knife into your stomach, twisting the offending weapon as he plunged the knife further into your abdomen.

"ethan! please stop!" you begged him, your hand covering his as it held the knife which stuck out of your stomach. you screamed as he dragged the blade up your torso, cutting into and slicing through your intestines. "please! i love you!"

he started to feel guilty again. but he had committed now, what would you say at the hospital if he let you go? the police would take a statement, you would stick him into the cops. no, he had to follow through now. he pulled the knife out of your stomach, and took a minute to look at your blood on his hands - bright red and a stark contrast against the paleness of his hands, the blood loss from the stab wound on his shoulder. ethan held you up since you had started to slump, the life draining out of you along with all of your blood. he jerked you back before plunging the knife into your chest repeatedly, you didn't have it in you to beg or plead anymore, blood trickling out of your mouth as your boyfriend made hole after hole in your torso. feeling you go limp, ethan dropped your lifeless body onto the floor, still bleeding out from the holes in your chest and stomach.

ethan watched you lay there, blood spilling out from your body and onto your white carpet. his heart broke this time, the realisation of what he had done hitting him. he had killed you, and you loved him, you trusted him and loved him, and he did this to you.

[mariademetal]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ kitty itadori yuuji / gn!reader ©mariademetal 2024

cw ... yuuji calls reader babe, blood(?) but nothing violent and no vivid description of a wound, if there's anything else lmk note ... haiii welcome to my lil established relationship yuji fic in which he is a stupid cat dad this is HEAVILYYYYY based on my experiences with kittens (every single kitten i've ever owned has shat on my bed once, as if just to get it out of their system before devoting themselves to a litter box) and the many fatal injuries i've received from them..... word count ... 3.1k

At first, you're the one that's apprehensive about bringing the cat home.

It's a little brown thing that ambushes you at the foot of your apartment's stairs, and who was very fun playmate for the first twenty minutes it followed you around, but got to be a little more trouble than you thought it might be worth after locking into climbing you like a tree and tearing a hole in your jeans in the process. At which point, you decided that while your hangout sesh was a lot of fun, it's time for your friend to go back to its mother.

To its fortune, just as you steel your resolution to leave your new friend at the bottom of the staircase on which it first attacked you, Yuuji shows up— of course he does— and decides as soon as his eye catches the claws hanging off of your shirt that he will simply keel over and die if the two of you don't foster the kitten.

"What if her last owners neglected her?" He pleads with you, looking you with the most convincing sad brown eyes you've seen in a moment while he speaks. (All while his new best friend bites his finger like it's made out of something positively delicious.) You're in the worst place in the world for this discussion, you think, still sitting at the bottom of that damned staircase. The fact that Yuuji will have won the moment you move into your apartment with that kitten keeps you in place at the price of your pride.

"Look at how fat she is, Yuuji," you gesture to her, and you can't even remember at what point in your heated discussion it became her. "What if her owners love her dearly and are waiting for her to come home? I'm not going to... catnap her."

"What if her mother died and she's looking for a new one?" He keeps asking these stupid hypothetical, rhetorical questions that prove nothing but still annoy you to no end. Not to mention the way he's cradling her in his arms— you have no doubt that by new mother he means himself.

"We already have a kid," you grit out. By kid, you don't mean an actual child, but rather a betta fish that Inumaki dared you to buy six beers deep and who you, unfortunately, discovered you could not return the morning after, nor ever. Yuuji stepped up as his father when you proved to be a little bit too absent as a single parent to him, and he's alive and thriving to this day, albeit in a tank you doubt is quite the recommended size. "What if she eats Fish? He's my pride and joy."

At this, Yuuji stops and thinks. "Aren't Nobara and Maki looking for a cat?"

"I think so," you hum, and tentatively reach over Yuuji's lap to rub your little enemy's stomach.

"Lets just take care of her until they're ready to take her," he smiles at you, tight-lipped and hopeful. "I'll make sure she doesn't eat Fish. I'll scoop her shit and feed her too."

You take your hand back to allow another tenant to pass between you and Yuuji and lean your head against the railing with a sigh. It's a bad idea and you know it. As much as you'd love to think you and Yuuji are ready to take care of a cat, dedicate the time and care it needs to it, you just can't. But if Yuuji says he'll take care of her just for the meantime, you know he means it. "... Alright. But the second she fucks with Fish, she's gone."

As it turns out, Kitty, as you and Yuuji have intermittently named her to match with Fish, is an only slightly worse roommate than Yuuji. If you were to rank everyone in your apartment by how much you all contribute, it'd go something like this— Fish in first place, obviously, for all the joy he gives you and Yuuji, as well as causing the least mess; you in second, for feeding and raising Fish up; Yuuji in third for cooking and paying the bills; Kitty at dead last for shitting all over your comforter on the first night she stays with you and having the audacity to beg you for food come morning.

Yuuji had prepared in every way he could think of— he bought her a litterbox, plenty of food for kittens, a collar (just until Maki or Nobara take her to get chipped), and enough catnip to plant a field. And, for what it's worth, when you’d first brought her into your apartment, just before Yuuji left to buy her supplies, she was an angel. She was the calmest you'd seen her the whole evening, carefully sniffing the floor of your apartment, sneaking up behind corners, checking for any harm that might come her way. So preoccupied with discovering this new, unknown land that she doesn't even acknowledge Fish's existence. It was only after she'd settled in that he ran to get her kitten things.

Naturally, Yuuji didn't think to check if Kitty actually knows how to use the elegant litter box he'd so diligently set up for her in your bathroom, so where you were expecting to sleep in and wake up to your boyfriend peppering your face with kisses, you instead wake up at the asscrack of dawn to the feeling of him jerking your blanket off of you (and the rest of your bed, you suppose), Kitty watching him from the floor with what you can only describe as morbid curiosity.

"Yuuji, what...?" You croak out, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

Then, the smell hits you, and you're confident you're not falling back asleep.

While Yuuji washes your blanket and lectures Kitty on the proper, sanitary way to relieve herself, you sprinkle some food in Fish's tank.

You stare down Kitty, who, in Yuuji's temporary absence, has taken to frolicking around your flat, as if she isn't a criminal, as if she didn't ruin your favorite duvet, and with a glare that softens by the second, you scoop out a can of cat food into a bowl and put it on the floor for her, despite the fact that Yuuji swore he’d take care of feeding her.

For what it's worth, you have to appreciate that, at the very least, she hasn't so much as glanced in Fish's direction. Despite how vehemently you're denying it at the moment, Kitty is, in fact, tearing and clawing and shitting her way into your heart— but if she does come to stay with you for any extended period of time, you'd rather it be one in which you don't have to constantly move Fish further and further away from her reach in order to keep him safe.

Fish, your first and beloved son— an accident, sure, but the happiest you've made in your life. There have been nights where you have been one dry heave away from throwing up your stomach in its entirety, and the only thing that could get you to stand up and drink some water was Fish, blub-blub-blubbing in his own, urging you with bulbous eyes to take care of yourself (because if you don't, you can't take care of him).

He's a selfish child, but all children are, you suppose. It’s their right.

Kitty finishes her food with a satiated meow and barely makes the three-foot journey to your coffee table before dropping down onto her side and passing out. It's an adorable sight, obviously, but one that also reminds you that that could've been you this morning if only she hadn't emptied her bowels onto your blanket.

Yuuji comes back to your apartment, empty-handed and head hung low, and you already know what he’s going to tell you; “Your blanket didn’t make it, babe.”

All you can do is sigh and throw your arms up. “I’ll pick up another one after work.”

Thankfully, after that fateful morning, Kitty didn’t have many other shit-related accidents. It was incredible, really, how easily she managed to fit into your life, how easily she forced you to carve time out of your day to spend with her instead— she sleeps on your couch since you tragically banned her from your bedroom, wakes you up like an alarm clock, consistently, to give her breakfast, and lazes around your apartment in tandem with you and Yuuji scurrying around to get ready for your respective days. You have class in the morning, he has work, and you always come come back just in time to deliver Kitty and Fish’s lunch. You’ve also found that Kitty has a taste in television— she screams at you whenever you put on Rupaul’s Drag Race, out of excitement or prejudice you can’t quite find out, and curls up into a ball in the crook of your elbow whenever you watch Seinfeld. Then, Yuuji comes back from work and if you don’t have plans, the four of you eat dinner together like a bonafide family.

Tonight, you don’t have plans, but Nobara, who has been promising to call you about Kitty for the past month you’ve had her has finally caught you on your phone.

“Of course I want her,” she insists, and you can see her bob swaying along with her head as she jerks it around in your mind's eye. (You love her dearly.) “It’s just… not a great time for Maki and I.”

Maki and I seems to be her favorite thing to say nowadays— you don’t think you’ve seen one without the other in some months. “That’s fine, but me and Yuuji can’t foster her forever, you know,” At the sound of his name, Yuuji whips his head around to see what you’re doing. Once he clocks who you're talking to, he mouths to you to tell Nobara he says hi. “Yuuji says hi, by the way.”

“Yeah, tell him I say hi too,” Nobara sighs. “We’re moving into Maki’s folks’ place, and I don’t know how they feel about cats and stuff.”

“Maki’s folks’ place is so big I doubt they’ll ever even see her.”

"I'm sorry, but can you just keep her until we're settled in?" Nobara asks with a politeness that's very out of character for her. Then again, if you had to live within a mile of the Zen'in compound, you'd be worn out, too.

It must be a sign from God, from Buddha, from the universe, or maybe just fate that before you have the opportunity to mumble out an uncertain I don't know to Nobara, Kitty wraps herself around your calf. She's gotten so big, you think to yourself— it feels like just yesterday she was small enough to fit in your shoe, but over the month you've fed her and scooped her shit, she's become big enough to play with your shoes.

"Yeah, of course," you splutter out. You press your phone against your shoulder and lean down to pick Kitty up while Nobara chatters away in your ear about gratitude and just hum when she asks you this or that. For a moment, just a moment, you wonder if you should be selfish and keep Kitty for yourself. Then you reprimand yourself, because she's still, for all intents and purposes, Maki and Nobara's cat.

Still, as you come to terms with the fact that Kitty's stay in your apartment will certainly be longer than you originally planned, it seems Kitty comes to the same realization— you and Yuuji discover that she's pointedly decided to make herself entirely at home. She was never well behaved, not really, what with the way she'd pounce on Yuuji whenever he fell asleep on the couch, or the way she'd dig her nails into your thighs whenever your petting skills failed to meet her standards, but it seemed that you, at the very least, had an understanding when it came to respecting the space you're all sharing— your apartment. She didn't scratch your couch, didn't spray litter all over your bathroom, and seemed to ignore fish in his entirety.

Now, though, she's picked up possibly the worst hobby of all— knocking shit off of other shit. Pens off of your desk, detergent off of your washing machine, cups off of your fucking kitchen counter. Yuuji, guilty for anything and everything he is physically capable of being guilty for, has cleaned up after her with a vigilance that you feel genuinely bad about. Unfortunately, he doesn't do it as carefully as you wish, which is why you're picking glass out of his hand with a tweezer at one in the morning after he stumbled out of your room to find what you and him had neglected to put away (what Kitty had managed to knock off of a counter) this time and found out the hard way. By tripping on the culprit in the darkness and falling hands-first onto the scene of the crime.

"Are you sure you can go to work tomorrow?" You ask, voice soft, and Yuuji, who has been smiling since he woke you up with a yelp, finally falters.

"I think I'll be alright," he murmurs back. "Nanami won't be happy, but..."

"When is he ever?" You snort.

"He likes Kitty, too."

"You've shown him pictures of her?"

"Of course! I've shown pictures of her to everyone in the department," he grins, and you can picture him, heavy in his uniform, lifting his phone up to his stoic boss' face with a picture of Kitty, asking Isn't she cute? Then him adjusting his glasses before nodding, Yes, Itadori, she's very cute.

You suppose that's the effect Kitty has on people. Yuuji, too.

He's sitting on the edge of the tub, you're sitting on the toilet seat, paper plate balanced on the sink beside you to drop the fragments of glass onto, Kitty passing and curling around your and Yuuji's feet. It feels odd to say it, but he got off lucky in this situation— only a few pieces of glass burrowed themselves deep enough into his skin to bleed, and the rest are just stuck on the surface. Still, you're pretty confident Yuuji's in a lot more pain than he's letting on.

"Really, Yuuji," you huff, "I think you should stay home tomorrow. Just so the swelling goes down and it'll be less painful the day after."

"It doesn't hurt," he starts speaking with his whole chest, but once he clocks the look you're giving him of complete and utter disbelief, his confidence wanes. "... that much."

"I know you're worried about money, but I'm worried about you," you start, and try not to wince with him after pulling out a particularly deep shard of glass. "And besides, if this gets worse because you went back to work too early, we'll have to pay for that, too."

He hums. "I guess so."

You wrap his hand up diligently, pepper his face with kisses, and shoo him away to your bedroom so you can pick up all the glass on the floor that didn't end up on that paper plate. He calls in sick.

You get through your classes like a zombie being pulled along campus by a leash. As it turns out, staying up until the early morning making absolutely sure that there wasn't any glass left on your floor did not prepare you for success when it was time to leave. Still, Yuuji solemnly swore to spend his day focused entirely on healing, so you achieved one little victory, if nothing else.

When you get home, before you can even grasp the doorknob, you hear Kitty yapping away, Yuuji sniffling, and something being shuffled around your living room. You don't know quite what you're afraid of— an intruder, Kitty growing to the size of King Kong, or Yuuji having shrunk of Kitty's height, but after peeking your head into the door, you can confidently say that it is none of the above. You do, however, see the assortment of Kitty's things gathered right by the door.

You step into your apartment, kick your shoes off, and greet Kitty as she practically jumps into your arms.

"Yuuji?" You call out to him, and realize he's in the bathroom, probably figuring out what the best way to remove Kitty's litter box would be. "What're you doing?"

He walks out of the bathroom, eyes red, bandage on his hand freshly, but messily changed, and his head hung low. "We have to give Kitty up," he says, and you immediately clutch her tighter in your arms.

"What're you talking about?"

He just gestures to where Fish is— rather, where fish should be. His tank isn't just empty, it's gone. You realize what happened.

"Did she eat Fish?" You ask. Your voice is calmer than you really are, but you don't want Yuuji to think you're mad at him for Kitty coincidentally killing Fish the one day he happened to stay home.

"No," he insists, and points to a red Solo cup he's placed on top of your bookshelf. "He's there. She... knocked his tank over. I saved him before he could die, but..."

You look down at Kitty, who is similarly looking up at you— it's like she knows what she did, like she knows exactly what your one condition to let her stay is, like she's pushing the rules just to see what you'll let her get away with before kicking her out. But Fish is not dead, albeit traumatized and certainly not thriving in his temporary home. You realize that you think you'd forgive Kitty if she clawed your eye out. You've been denying your truth— denying that you love Kitty like she's yours, because she is— for far too long.

"I-I remember what you said about only fostering her if she doesn't mess with Fish, and I agreed, so—"

"I don't want to get rid of her," you interrupt Yuuji, and his expression goes from distraught to severely confused.

"No," he insists. At first, you were the one who was apprehensive about keeping Kitty. Now, the roles have been reversed. "She messed with Fish. I get it."

"Yuuji," you say, softer, and walk towards him. You look at his hand and realize he must've worked so hard on his day off, to clean up the glass of Fish's tank, to clean up the water, the decorations, the plants, and how scared he must've been that Fish would die. How scared he must've been that you'd be mad at him. You love him too much for that. "We're not getting rid of Kitty."

"We're not?"

"Of course not. Do you want to?"

"Of course not!" He huffs, and makes a face at Kitty that she must not like, because she takes a swipe at him from all the way in the crook of your elbow.

"So... do you want to tell Nobara?"

"Hard pass."

[runningw-thewolves]

List of random crap I associate with Angrboda

- Femme fatale characters (I am also including Jessica Rabbit even though she’s a subversion of this character archetype)

- Tom Lehrer’s “Masochism Tango” (though I do have it on a Loki and Sigyn playlist as well)

- That scene from Addams Family Values where Morticia and Gomez are dancing and Morticia casually throws a knife at Gomez.

- Doing a witchy cackle for the Hell of it cause it’s fun

- “Bombastic side-eye. Criminally offensive side-eye.” Also; “stank face.”

- That “Fuck it all” parody of “Let It Go”

- The Song “I’ve No More Fucks To Give” by Thomas Benjamin Esq.

- Fall Out Boy’s “I Don’t Care”

- P!nk’s “So What”

- DAGames’ “Fuck Yourself” (CW for WW2 slur about the Japanese)

- The Song “Fuck this shit, I’m out”

- Self-empowerment songs (e.g. “WANNABE” by ITZY)

- Outfits that make you feel yourself. Like you look in the mirror and it just clicks, and you think you’re a hot piece of ass or elegant as Hell or cute to the point of dying.

- Everytime Chilli gives Bandit her “Excuse me!?” look in Bluey (do NOT fuck with a bitch who knows what she’s doing)

- Inclusive femininity, punching TERFs and Nazis and Pro-Israel cunts.

- Spreading awareness about MMIWTS (murdered and missing Indigenous women and two spirit)

- Women’s wrongs movies (e.g. Carrie, Lisa Frankenstein, Bride of Chucky etc)

- To quote Hell’s Belles; “Do it scared.” You’re afraid to do something? Then do it scared.

- Owning your power, cause damn it you are wonderful and loved and worthy.

- Scary dog breeds - because they are actually just silly goofballs with gummy smiles. Look at this and tell me how it is scary. I’ll wait.

- Fighting against breed specific legislation.

- Raising awareness about the problems with the foster care and adoption systems, childhood trauma, generational trauma etc.

- Utilising the “block” button.

- Tom Cardy’s “Hey, I Don’t Work Here”. (I feel like the last chorus is pretty much what she’d tell Odin if given the chance.)

[colorfulcowboykingdom]

Guess who's trying to write a post-island story (long post)

CW just incase: Mentions of depression, vague mention of death and trauma

**Note, I'm not good at writing characters, nor am I good at telling stories, tell me any changes I can make to this story Also, the descriptions are very vague because this is just the draft of it**

Over-run:

• Boys leave the island on May 23rd, 1953

• After being rescued from the island, the boys are sent to the hospital to have their injuries checked. Many boys families have either died, or have no way of finding there kids again so they stay at the hospital for a few weeks

• The boys are sent to the foster care system, some stay for a few weeks, and some stay for months or years

• If a boy was taken in by a family, they would either move to a different city or move to a different country, but most stayed in England

• The boys have trauma from the island and are either sent to boarding schools for troubled kids or go to therapy instead

• Some of the boys go back to the schools they had been in before (like the choir)

• Few boys partake in interviews about their time on the island (especially Ralph)

• Horrible things ensue after they get back, and things get worse during high-school

Now onto the characters in the story!!! (for now)

Ralph

• Spend 2 months in the foster care system, gets adopted by a new family (father is presumed to be dead, or either away from the country)

• Being in foster care messes him up a bit, conditions aren't good, he refuses to eat most of the food given to him, very agitated at this time, very jumpy and disconcerted.

• He has a hard time getting used to his new surroundings

• Very uncomfortable with his new family and finds it difficult to form a healthy bond with them

• His family thinks that if he talks about his feeling he"ll feel better, and might open up more. But we will not open up to his family about what happened, they try there best to help him but be won't budge

• Even though he doesn't like the idea, he's forced to go to therapy because his family thinks he needs to open up about his feelings and thoughts (also because he won't talk about anything with his family)

• He decides to pick up a diary and writes in it when he can't physically communicate with people (this becomes important for the plot)

• Therapy doesn't help, so he's sent to a boarding school instead (this doesn't help either)

• Graduates in 1959 ( gets held back one year, so he was supposed to graduate in 1958)

• Goes to college, drops out of two different ones due to troubles

• Settles down in his third college and meets Maurice (very unlikely but oh well)

• He hates his guts at the start but finds that he's starting to form a type of bond with him and gets very confused on why

• Few months pass and he meets other people from the island and it sends him to a downwards spiral

• Major survivals guilt

• Acute trauma (an isolated or single event that causes an individual to be traumatized)

• Very depressed

• Night terrors

• Dies in 1960 (will disclose how later...maybe)

• His diary is published as an autobiography by his foster family, this causes a documentary to be made about the island as things that haven't been told before are exposed and cause some outrage

Jack

• Spends one month max in the foster care system, his family is still in England and get called to get him out of the system

• Things are worse for Jack back home, his family has become more neglectful towards him and full on abandon him

• Due to lack of care from his family, he slowly depends on any form of attention wether it be positive or negative

• Develops mommy and daddy issues (damn!)

• Back at school, the choir disbanded and barely any of the members talk to each other. Almost everyone avoids Jack (except for Roger and, to an extent, Maurice)

• His parents don't even think to get him therapy, they send him to a boarding school for troubled kids. He's very afraid of being alone at this time, but luckily he meets Roger there so he isn't alone (There relationship is not healthy)

• There relationship can be described as codependent, and very one-sided

• Roger splits with Jack and it devastates him, he goes into a depressive episode for a few months

• Able to graduate in 1958, goes to college and somewhat gets better (then he meets Ralph, so not for long)

• Comes back in contact with some of the choir members, he only succeeded in getting in touch with Roger and, later on, Maurice

• Complex trauma (multiple traumatic events)

• Pushes the island trauma to the back of his mind to try and forget about everything, but it doesn't work

• Believes he's being haunted by Simon's ghost because he has nightmares where Simon appears most of the time

• Also depressed

• Finds out about Ralph's death and goes into another depressive episode for a span of 7 months

• He's included in the documentary after Ralph's death and has a copy of Ralph autobiography

This is all I have for now, I will post another part of Maurice, Roger, and Robert soon (may not be today)

[chas3supremacist]

father figure.

Pairing/s: James Wilson x Platonic!Doctor!Reader

Summary: Wilson's favourite oncologist struggles with POTS.

Request:  Anonymous asked

hi omg i love that you're writing platonic house fanfic! if you're taking requests can i rq like platonic greg house and/or james wilson with a reader who has a chronic illness/pain

Word Count: 612 Words

CW: none I think! Let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Okay. Here goes nothing - also here goes my first house pic! I don't love or hate this, my biggest apologies to the anon who requested this pic - A lot went down from the time I started writing this until now. Please let me know what you think - Likes, reblogs and feedback is always appreciated!

"Y/N"

You hummed and then groaned in discomfort as you opened your eyes, the harsh white light from the ceiling of the doctor's lounge burning your eyes. You recognized the concern written on the blurry face hovering above you - Wilson, the head of the department you worked in. You sighed, a bit embarrassed that your boss had found you passed out because you had been standing up for too long.

"I'm up," You assured him, trying to wave him and his concern off. Fainting was nothing new for you, especially if you'd gone too long without resting - you were diagnosed with POTS when you were 15 and had tried everything that your doctors had suggested to try and treat it, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that this was going to be something you would need to live with since your diagnosis had been 10 years prior. 

"Are you okay?" Wilson helped you up onto your feet, making sure not to rush you, just in case you fainted again. If you were being honest, Wilson was kind of the closest thing you had to a dad, considering your family put you up for adoption when you were six - citing that you were too much for them to look after anymore. You ended up in the foster care system until you turned 18 and got yourself into a good medical school, powering your way through school despite the struggles that came with your illness. 

"Yes, dad, I'm fine," You joked with him, shooting Wilson a tired, weak smile. He chuckled and shook his head at you, you were certainly...something. But you were one of the best oncologists he'd met, specialising in pediatric oncology, your gentle nature made you extremely likeable among your colleagues. "Don't you have better things to be doing? I'm fine now Wilson," You assured him.

"I know, I'm just making sure. I don't want you fainting again, here, have some water," He handed you a bottle of water, since you were told you had to keep your fluids up and try and avoid sugary foods or drinks all you really drank was water. You took the bottle from him and glared at him jokingly - Wilson knew that you could be defensive about him "looking after you" sometimes, but he guessed that was part of the package of growing up without a real family, you never had one set person care about, if even at all.

But no matter how defensive you were - Wilson would never judge you for it. You had your reasons for it; but you would never admit to him, or even yourself that part of you found comfort in your head of department looking out for you in the same manner you wished a father had when you were growing up. You knew that he cared about you - Maybe even more so than some of the other doctors on your ward, you weren't sure why, you just know that he did.