#hes gotten little enough affection in his long life

[cursed-angelic-art]

Shen Yuan is a streamer known as Peerless Cucumber. His main focus is an rpg called Proud Immortal Demon Way that is often critiqued as "just another waifu collector" and Peerless Cucumber gets a ton of flak for being so invested in the lore and for heavily defending the main player character, Luo Binghe. But as is the way with content creators who are overly invested in one piece of media, he has a healthy niche following. One of his longtime followers is Heavenly Pillar, a Luo Binghe role player who leaves him lots of donations, despite his pleas for people not to send him money.

Shen Yuan has a love/hate relationship with this follower. On the one hand, he's pretty terrible at roleplaying Luo Binghe. He seems to have the characterization and speech patterns down, but he'll constantly go super OOC and start flirting with Shen Yuan while still pretending to be in character. And he barely says anything about the wives Shen Yuan encounters while playing. Luo Binghe isn't gay! And he certainly wouldn't be into Shen Yuan!

On the other hand, it's nice that someone out there seems to not only like Shen Yuan's content so much, but also values him as a person, showing concern if he's playing at odd hours of the day or hasn't eaten anything in a while or just seems particularly lonely. Maybe it's borderline parasocial, maybe Shen Yuan should be focusing on making friends irl, but it's nice, you know, to have someone's attention wholly on you.

Luo Binghe is a centuries old demon lord who's traveled to nigh on hundreds of universes and donned countless personas in his neverending quest to find something to alleviate the monotony of his life. This one caught his eye a few years back when he saw some advertisements for Proud Immortal Demon Way. It's far from the first time he's come across a story about his life, but a video game is a novelty.

So he downloads it. And in his expert opinion after hours of play, the game sucks ass. Not only are the fighting mechanics unwieldy and the rewards limited, but the wife quests have incredibly contrived plot lines that repeat the same 5 tropes over and over. Sure, Luo Binghe's actual harem was oft unwieldy and annoying (it has dwindled significantly in recent years), but he doesn't recognize any of the people he remembers marrying in these 2d pixels. Even the ones that are staples of the Luo Binghe genre, like Sha Hualing, Liu Mingyan, and Ning Yingying are pale caricatures of their real life selves in his memory.

Luo Binghe decides to shelve the game, but first takes to the internet to see what others have to say about it and that's where he finds him. Shen Yuan shows his face on screen. His voice. His mannerisms. Luo Binghe has only met the "not-Shizun" Shen Qingqiu a scant number of times, briefly, in a handful of universes. And each time, he was closely guarded by another Luo Binghe. But not this one. This Shen Yuan appears to be alone, neglected, a wilting flower carrying on through energy drinks, cup noodle, and sheer determination.

Luo Binghe is going to find out where he lives. It's not a matter of if, but when. And in the meantime, he's gaining his trust and affection one stream at a time.

[pikahlua]

Oh? Please, Madam

What Izuku rejects is the opportunity to be Katsuki's SIDEKICK. He doesn't reject being a hero or competing with Katsuki. He rejects working FOR/UNDER Katsuki. Which is hilarious because Katsuki accepts (apparently multiple times) showing up as a guest lecturer to help out Izuku's class. Katsuki tells Izuku that "If everyone is special, no one is special," which has the potential for SO MUCH DOUBLE MEANING. But what there is no ambiguity about to me is he's basically telling Izuku "Hey, notice this. I'm treating you special. You're special to me. NOTICE."

It's also implied that Izuku sees Katsuki more regularly than he sees most others from their class, which is emphasized by the previous chapter when Aizawa complains to him about Katsuki's behavior in public affecting his ranking. Katsuki basically tells Izuku he needs to start thinking about himself more, and he also ends their final interaction with a "See ya [later]." Katsuki is NOT talking about Ochako, but Izuku takes some of his advice as the impetus for going to talk to Ochako (specifically they just wanna talk more after the dinner since the dinner is now over and they didn't get to talk). So what was Katsuki thinking of? I personally read his "See ya later" as "You'll figure it out, just go handle what you gotta right now and you can catch up to me later."

Hilariously, Izuku calls Katsuki out for being the one to say "If you don't start thinking a little more highly of yourself, you won't notice the things you should." Izuku's response is basically, "Look who's talking." Again, the potential for double meaning here is painfully obvious. He could be referring to SO MANY THINGS and we're meant to infer what that is. WE GET TO GUESS. Izuku could be saying "You did stuff just as bad as what you're saying," or "You're STILL not noticing something, Kacchan."

And Izuku taking inspiration from Katsuki's words to go talk to Ochako is meaningful in another way--IT MEANS IZUKU LISTENED TO HIM. Katsuki is having an influence on Izuku in a way to improve who he is just like Izuku did for him in high school. Izuku takes Katsuki's advice seriously. NO ONE HAS EVER GOTTEN HIM TO UNDERSTAND THIS LESSON BEFORE NOW. It ends with Izuku and Ochako deciding to talk more, but what it shows us is the beginning of Izuku considering himself more. If Izuku follows Katsuki's advice long enough, he'll end up back in the competition with Katsuki just like Katsuki expects him to. That is just as easy of a conclusion to make from the theme of "inevitability" that Shouto gives us (and that Izuku also takes to heart).

This ending implies that inevitably Izuku's gonna catch up again, basically. Things will continue to change. So yeah, we get a beginning where he and Ochako meet up to talk, but it's just a beginning. It's one night of chatting. They're seeing if something's there now (which kind of implies that there wasn't much there before), but it's left open-ended. And I think it's left open-ended what happens with Ochako on purpose because anyone can read how that ends up however they like. You just have to decide as a reader what's "inevitable" for Izuku Midoriya from this point on. Me? I've decided Izuku is taking Katsuki's advice to treat people who mean more to him better. Ochako is just the beginning. Izuku has other people in his life he needs to show love to as well (because that's what this is, Izuku is learning to show people that they're important to him, that he loves them, because saving people doesn't do that--he saves EVERYONE). And then maybe he'll start to see how the people who love him treat him special too, like guest SPECIAL (same kanji) LECTURER KATSUKI BAKUGOU.

tl;dr there is a lot left open to interpretation and it's probably on purpose, read the chapter however you like, just like we did with the last chapter.

...and my interpretation which is the correct one is that Katsuki tells Izuku, "Here let me show you how to love people, damnit!" to give him the character development everyone has been begging for him to have for years, to realize that saving people doesn't mean they're special to him if he's known for saving everyone ever, so like, maybe go show them you care in OTHER ways, Izuku, and also I'll be waiting right here for you to come show you love me you jackass (and he does, he does come show him that)

[stargirlrchive]

simon is so sweet on you :( you’re his pretty girl, like how could he not be? you’re the best thing to ever happen to him!

it took forever to get to this point but it was so worth it.

any time his fingers glide over your back or when he grips at your waist as he guides you through a crowd. all the initial struggles you both had at the beginning completely forgotten.

he can’t get enough of you. seriously.

like before, he never cared about how long a mission took, he never really had anything worth coming back to, but now? the second he finds out he’s going to be away from you he’s so grumpy :(((

huffing and smoking even more than usual, the thought of leaving you alone drives him mad.

he definitely sneaks in one of your shirts into his away bag so his clothes can smell of you.

refuses to carry a picture of you on him for your own safety, but you had gotten into the habit of leaving sticky notes with cute messages for him all over his office. there’s one that just said “i love you.”

yeah he’s guarding that with his life and he takes it everywhere.

he loves to spoil his sweet girl. with flowers, lingerie, food, his affection. he’s always touching you somehow. gently squeezing at the plush of your hips, kissing your neck, or running his hands through your hair.

your just so soft compared to him. :((

he loves the way your eyes glaze over when he’s a little rough in the way he tugs on you. or when his thumb runs along your bottom lip. you’re just as needy for him as he is for you and it makes his brain fuzzy.

he can’t fathom why someone as good as you would want someone like him. but he’s grateful all the same.

[mywhisperingwords]

the chocolates | fred g. weasley

summary: fred weasley, a love potion, and a closet—the perfect recipe for disaster word count: 2.5k masterlist

The Gryffindor common room was alive with its usual post-dinner chaos—laughter, shouts from an impromptu game of Exploding Snap, and the faint scratching of quills from students rushing to finish essays.

You were curled up in your usual spot near the fire, absently chewing on the end of your quill as you debated whether your essay on Bezoars needed another paragraph. The warmth of the flames combined with the lively hum of the room almost lulled you into a state of contentment.

That is, until the portrait hole slammed open with a bang, silencing the room.

Fred Weasley burst in, looking like he’d sprinted all the way from the Great Hall. His tie was askew, his hair sticking up in several directions, and his face—well, his face was set in an expression of utter determination.

“There you are!” he boomed, pointing directly at you.

You blinked. “What—”

But before you could finish, Fred crossed the room in long strides, his eyes locked on you with unsettling intensity. He dropped to one knee in front of your chair, clutching your hand in both of his as the entire room watched in stunned silence.

“My darling,” Fred said, his voice trembling with emotion. “My light, my muse, my reason for existing—I’ve been a fool to wait so long to tell you this, but I can’t hold it in any longer. I love you.”

The quill slipped from your fingers. “What?”

“I love you!” he repeated, louder this time, as though sheer volume would make his words more believable. “You’re the sun to my Quidditch pitch, the sugar to my treacle tart, the spell to my wand. Say you’ll be mine forever!”

A beat of stunned silence followed. Then—

“Did he just compare you to a Quidditch pitch?” George’s amused voice cut through the stillness.

Fred whipped around, glaring at his twin. “Shut it, George. You wouldn’t understand true love if it hit you with a Bludger.”

The absurdity of the situation might have been funny and a bit sweet if you weren’t so mortified. You yanked your hand out of Fred’s grip and stood, glaring at him.

“Fred, what is going on?” you demanded.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Fred said, springing to his feet with alarming energy. “I’m in love with you. Have been for ages. But tonight, I ate those chocolates and suddenly realized that life without you is meaningless.”

Your stomach dropped. Chocolates?

“Wait,” you said slowly, your mind racing. “What chocolates?”

Fred grinned. “The ones in the green box on my bed! Absolutely delicious—did you make them for me, darling? A little token of your affection?”

You froze, realization crashing over you like a tidal wave. The chocolates.

You had made them, but not for Fred. They were part of your Potions homework—Professor Snape had tasked the class with brewing a subtle love potion and incorporating it into a confection. Your plan had been to dispose of them after class. But you’d gotten distracted while helping George brainstorm a prank and probably accidentally left the box in the boys’ dormitory.

Fred had eaten them.

The rest of the evening spiraled into chaos.

Fred followed you everywhere, loudly declaring his undying devotion to anyone who would listen. The common room was no longer just alive with its usual noise—it was filled with Fred’s dramatic serenades and heartfelt speeches.

At one point, he climbed onto the back of the sofa to address the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen! I would like you all to know that I, Fred Weasley, am in love. Truly, madly, deeply—”

“Fred, get down!” you hissed, tugging at his arm.

“—with the most beautiful soul in all of Hogwarts!” he continued, completely ignoring you. “And I don’t care who knows it!”

The younger students cheered enthusiastically, while the older ones groaned in exasperation.

“I’m begging you,” George muttered, rubbing his temples. “End this madness.”

You’d had enough. Grabbing Fred’s wrist, you dragged him out of the common room and into an empty corridor.

“Fred, listen to me. You’re under the influence of a love potion. This isn’t real.” Even if you secretly wished it was, but you would never admit that out loud.

Fred’s response was to grab your hands again, gazing at you with heartbreaking sincerity. “But it feels real, my love. Isn’t that what matters?”

“No!” you snapped, pulling away. “Because you’re going to feel very stupid when this wears off.”

It took until the next morning for the potion to wear off, leaving you sleep-deprived and thoroughly annoyed.

When Fred stumbled into the Great Hall, you could tell instantly that he was back to his normal self. His wide-eyed horror when he spotted you was proof enough.

“I—oh no,” he said, freezing in the doorway. “I didn’t… did I?”

You folded your arms. “You did.”

Fred groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he sank into the seat across from you. “How bad was it?”

“Bad enough that half the school thinks we’re engaged,” you deadpanned.

He groaned louder, burying his face in his arms. “Merlin, kill me now.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile, a flicker of hope in your heart. “Well, at least now I know what you’d be like if you fancied me.”

Fred froze, his arms still covering his face. For a moment, you thought he hadn't heard you. But then, slowly, he sat up, avoiding your gaze as he forced out a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yeah, well, lucky for you, that'll never happen," he said, his tone a little too casual. "Can you imagine? Me, fancying you? Talk about a nightmare."

His words hit harder than you expected, your chest tightening uncomfortably.

"Right. A nightmare," you echoed, keeping your voice light even though his dismissal stung more than you wanted to admit.

Fred shifted awkwardly in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anyway, thanks for, uh, not hexing me last night. I think l'll just... be going now."

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone at the table with your thoughts.

Over the next few days, things didn't go back to normal like you'd hoped.

Fred was acting... strange. He didn't avoid you outright, but he also wasn't his usual self. Gone were the easy grins and playful jabs he always threw your way. Instead, he seemed quieter, more distant, and almost hesitant whenever you were around.

At first, you thought he was embarrassed about what had happened, which made sense. After all, he'd spent an entire evening serenading you and professing his undying love in front of half the common room. Who wouldn't want to disappear after that?

But the longer his odd behavior went on, the harder it was to shake the nagging feeling that it wasn't just embarrassment keeping him away.

Maybe he regretted it-not just the potion-induced spectacle, but all of it.

The chocolates, the confessions, even spending time with you.

The thought made your chest ache in a way that surprised you. You hadn't realized just how much you'd grown to enjoy Fred's attention, his laughter, the way he always managed to make even the most ordinary moments feel brighter.

But now, it felt like he was slipping away, and there wasn't anything you could do about it.

You tried to convince yourself that it didn't matter, that Fred Weasley would never feel that way about you. And even if he did, it was only because of a stupid potion. Nothing real.

Still, the ache didn't go away.

&

The days dragged on, and the awkwardness between you and Fred showed no signs of fading. It was as though an invisible wall had gone up between you, and neither of you seemed willing—or able—to break it down.

Unfortunately for you, George Weasley had noticed.

One evening, as you sat in the common room trying (and failing) to focus on your Potions essay, George dropped into the seat across from you with a casual grin that immediately put you on edge.

“Hey there,” he said, propping his chin on his hand like he had all the time in the world.

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you want, George?”

“Why do you assume I want something?” he asked, feigning offense. “Maybe I just enjoy your company.”

You shot him a flat look.

“Alright, fine,” he said, leaning forward. “I couldn’t help but notice you and Fred have been acting… weird lately. Care to explain?”

Your stomach clenched. “We’re not acting weird.”

George snorted. “Right. And Peeves isn’t a menace. Come on, what happened? Did you two finally confess your undying love for each other and now you’re too shy to make eye contact?”

Heat flooded your face. “What? No! That’s not—”

“Relax, I’m kidding.” George smirked, but his eyes were sharper than usual, like he was trying to piece something together. “Still, you two have been avoiding each other like the plague, and it’s getting pretty pathetic. So, here’s the deal—I’m going to help.”

You groaned. “I don’t need your help, George.”

“Too bad,” he said cheerfully, standing up and dusting off his robes. “Because you’re getting it anyway.”

Before you could argue, he was gone, whistling as he disappeared up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory.

The next day, you found yourself standing outside a supply closet near the Charms classroom, clutching a note George had pressed into your hand that morning. “Meet me here at seven,” it read, the handwriting unmistakably his.

You had half a mind to ignore it, but curiosity—and a faint flicker of hope that he might have some kind of plan to fix things with Fred—got the better of you.

When you opened the door, the last person you expected to see was Fred, but you should’ve.

He was leaning against a stack of boxes, arms crossed and looking just as startled to see you. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“George told me to meet him,” you said, stepping inside. “Why are you here?”

“He told me the same thing,” Fred muttered, narrowing his eyes as he glanced at the door. “Wait a minute—”

Before either of you could react, the door slammed shut behind you with a deafening clunk.

Fred lunged for the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, jiggling it uselessly.

“Let me guess,” you said dryly, crossing your arms. “It’s locked?”

Fred sighed, resting his forehead against the door. “Yeah. It’s locked.”

The silence in the cramped closet was unbearable. You could hear every breath Fred took, every restless shuffle of his feet. He was standing close—too close—his familiar scent of soap and something faintly sweet filling the air.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to laugh. Mostly, you wanted to get out of there before you said something you’d regret.

“I don’t understand why he’s doing this,” Fred muttered, pacing the tiny space like a trapped animal.

“Maybe he’s sick of you avoiding me,” you snapped, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice.

Fred froze mid-step, his back to you. “I’m not avoiding you.”

You scoffed. “Really? Because you’ve barely said three words to me in the last week, and you won’t even look at me.”

Fred’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn around. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” you pressed, stepping closer despite yourself. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you can’t wait to get away from me.”

“That’s not true,” Fred said, his voice tight.

“Then explain it!” you demanded, your frustration spilling over. “Because all I can think is that you’re embarrassed about what happened. About me. And honestly, Fred, if that’s the case, then—”

“It’s because I like you, alright?” Fred exploded, spinning around to face you.

The words slammed into you like a rogue Bludger, knocking the air from your lungs.

“What?” you whispered, barely able to process what he’d just said.

“I like you,” Fred repeated, his voice softer now but no less intense. “I’ve liked you for ages, and that stupid potion just… it made it impossible to hide. And then when it wore off, I panicked because I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to ruin things, so I thought maybe if I stayed away…”

He trailed off, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you, his eyes pleading. “I was avoiding you because I’m a coward. Not because I’m embarrassed. Never that.”

Your heart was racing, your emotions a chaotic swirl of disbelief, anger, and something else—something warm and fragile that you’d been too afraid to name until now.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, your voice trembling.

Fred blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” you repeated, stepping closer until you were mere inches apart. “Because I like you too, and you could’ve just said something instead of making me think you hated me.”

Fred’s eyes widened, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, like a dam breaking, he surged forward, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you with a desperation that made your knees weak.

You kissed him back, your hands clutching at his robes as the tension that had been building between you for weeks melted away, replaced by something infinitely sweeter.

The sound of the door creaking open barely registered until a familiar voice drawled, “Well, well, well. About time.”

You and Fred broke apart, spinning to see George leaning casually against the doorframe, his grin so wide it was practically criminal.

“George?” Fred said, his voice laced with both shock and irritation.

“Don’t mind me,” George said, waving a hand. “Just here to check on my brilliant plan. Which, I must say, worked beautifully.”

Your stomach dropped. “Plan?”

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” George said, crossing his arms. “Who do you think left that box of chocolates on Fred’s bed in the first place?”

Fred’s jaw dropped. “You knew about the love potion?”

“Of course I knew,” George said, looking offended. “I took them from your bag after you got distracted helping me brainstorm pranks. Figured it was the perfect opportunity to give you two a little push.”

Your mouth opened and closed, words failing you. “You—you tricked me?”

“I prefer ‘strategically intervened,’” George said, flashing you a cheeky grin. “And before you get too mad, just remember—it worked. You’re welcome.”

Fred groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin, George, you’re insufferable.”

“Insufferably brilliant,” George corrected, clapping Fred on the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a very smug letter to write to Mum about my matchmaking skills. Ta!”

With that, he sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune and leaving you and Fred standing in stunned silence.

Fred let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Only George.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the weight of the last week finally lifting. “Remind me to kill him later.”

“Only after I thank him,” Fred said, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Because, for once, his meddling actually worked out.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “It did.”

This time, when he kissed you, there was no tension, no uncertainty—just the kind of warmth that made you wonder how you’d ever lived without it.

[moonselune]

Could I request some wholesome headcanons of the men meeting their baby for the first time after Tav gives birth? I’m a sucker for babies in your content!

More babies content yess!!!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The dim light of the morning sun filtered into the room, casting soft golden hues over the bed where you rested, utterly exhausted but overwhelmed with the bliss of the moment. Your body ached in ways you didn’t even know were possible, and every breath felt like a sigh of relief after the long labor. Beside you, swaddled in a blanket, was your newborn baby, sleeping peacefully after the chaos of their arrival into the world.

You hadn’t expected to be awake when Gale entered the room, but his soft footsteps and the quiet rustle of his robes stirred you. He had waited so patiently, just beyond the threshold, giving you the time you needed to rest. But now, as he crossed the room to you, there was an unmistakable excitement in his eyes, an eager anticipation that couldn’t be contained. The moment he saw you and the baby together, Gale’s face lit up with sheer joy.

"You did it," he breathed, voice full of awe. "You’re incredible. Truly, I've never seen such strength and beauty in all my life—no hero in any story could compare to what you’ve done today!"

His words poured out in a rush, and you could see the way his hands trembled with barely contained excitement. He knelt beside the bed, his eyes shimmering with emotion as he gazed at you, then at the baby. "The most remarkable thing I’ve ever witnessed! You brought life into this world, my love. You’re an absolute marvel—no, more than that. You're—"

You raised a hand, placing it gently on his arm, a tired but fond smile playing on your lips.

"Gale," you interrupted softly, your voice filled with affection but laced with exhaustion. "Thank you, but… please… can you just hold the baby? And maybe just a be a tad quieter, my love."

He blinked, clearly caught off guard by your request. "Ah, of course," he said, his voice faltering for just a moment. But then, with that same boyish enthusiasm that made you fall for him in the first place, he beamed at you. "Of course! I’m sorry, I’m just… overwhelmed, darling."

Carefully, with a reverence that spoke volumes of his love and care, Gale leaned down and lifted the tiny bundle into his arms. His movements were delicate, as though holding the baby was the most important spell he had ever cast. The look of pure wonder on his face as he cradled your child for the first time made your heart swell.

As the baby shifted slightly in his arms, Gale’s eyes widened with joy.

"Oh, my little one," he whispered, his voice full of tenderness, but he began to get louder and louder the more enthralled with the baby he became. "Look at you—perfect in every way. Already a miracle, just like your mother."

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, exhaustion still pulling at your limbs, but the sight of Gale with the baby was enough to lift your spirits.

"Gale, you’re doing it again," you teased gently. "Just… enjoy the moment."

He blushed faintly, realizing how carried away he had gotten. "Right," he said, lowering his voice to a near-whisper. "Quiet. Yes, of course."

But even as he settled into the quiet, you could see the emotions bubbling up in him, his eyes shining as he gazed down at the baby in his arms. And, in true Gale fashion, he simply couldn’t resist the urge to speak again, though this time it was a soft, almost reverent whisper.

"You are such a wonder," he murmured to the baby, his voice barely audible. "Such a gift. I promise I’ll do everything I can to give you the best life, little one. You’ve already made mine infinitely brighter."

You watched with a smile as he continued to quietly shower the baby with praise, his gentle words filled with awe and love. The sight of him, so full of emotion, yet finally quiet and tender, made your heart swell with warmth. Despite everything, despite his usual tendency to ramble and fill the air with words, in this moment, he was perfect.

"You know," you said softly, your voice laced with amusement, "I think this is the quietest I’ve ever seen you."

Gale glanced up at you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

"Well," he whispered, leaning closer to you with the baby nestled securely in his arms, "you did ask me to be quiet. But I’m afraid I can’t help it. You and this little one—you’re both my greatest accomplishments."

You chuckled tiredly, leaning your head back against the pillow as you gazed at him and your child. "You’re impossible."

"And you," he whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, "are everything."

With your baby safe in his arms and Gale’s quiet whispers filling the room, you felt a deep sense of peace wash over you. For the first time in what felt like hours, you let your eyes close, the sound of Gale’s soft, loving words lulling you into a peaceful rest.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The soft glow of the candlelight cast a gentle warmth across the room as you rested in bed, utterly exhausted but blissfully content. The labor had been long and difficult, but now your baby, your child, lay swaddled in a soft blanket, sleeping peacefully beside you. Every muscle in your body ached, and your mind was a whirlwind of emotions—love, joy, and exhaustion mingled together.

But there was one more thing you needed to happen, one more piece of this moment that would make it complete. You glanced at Astarion, who stood a few steps away, his eyes fixed on the baby with a look you hadn’t seen before—hesitation. His usual confidence, his sly, charming demeanor, had melted away entirely, replaced by something raw and uncertain.

He was standing there like he was staring at some delicate, untouchable treasure, unsure of how to proceed. His hands twitched at his sides, as though he wanted to reach out but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. You sighed softly, though there was a smile tugging at your lips.

“Astarion,” you said, your voice a little weak but firm nonetheless. “I just spent hours bringing this baby into the world. I think you can handle holding them for a few minutes.”

Astarion blinked, his gaze snapping to you as if he’d been caught in some sort of reverie.

“Oh, darling,” he began, his usual velvet tone laced with uncertainty, “I’m not so sure about that. I mean… what if I drop them? Or—gods forbid—what if they cry? Or worse, what if they don’t like me?” His voice was unusually soft, tinged with a vulnerability you rarely saw from him. You raised an eyebrow, half amused and half exasperated.

“In the nicest possible way my love, get a grip,” you said, though your tone was gentle, knowing how much this moment was overwhelming him. “I promise you, they won’t break if you hold them. And after everything we’ve been through together, I doubt our child is going to be scared of you.”

He hesitated for a moment longer, glancing back at the tiny bundle resting peacefully beside you.

The vulnerability in his eyes tugged at your heart, but you weren’t going to let him stay trapped in his fear. You reached out with your hand, gesturing toward the baby. “Come on, Astarion. I know you’re not afraid of something this small.”

Astarion took a slow breath, then gave you a weak smile. “You make a compelling argument, my love. Very well, if I must.” There was a teasing lilt to his words, but the nervousness in his eyes remained.

He approached slowly, like a predator stalking something fragile and precious, his usual grace turning into something cautious. With careful, almost exaggerated precision, he knelt beside the bed and reached out. His hands hovered above the baby for a moment, and you could see the hesitation still lingering in the way his fingers trembled slightly.

But finally, with a steadying breath, he slid his hands beneath the baby, lifting them up into his arms. The moment the tiny weight settled against him, Astarion froze. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared down at the small, sleeping face nestled against his chest. The baby’s tiny fingers twitched, and Astarion’s expression softened in a way you had never seen before.

You watched as something shifted in him—his fear giving way to awe. The tension in his shoulders melted, and he cradled the baby closer, his arms instinctively wrapping around them with surprising tenderness.

“Well,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, “I think they’re still in one piece.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I told you they wouldn’t break.”

Astarion looked up at you, his eyes shimmering with emotion.

“They’re so small,” he murmured, his usual bravado stripped away completely. “So… perfect.” He glanced back down at the baby, his thumb gently brushing over their tiny hand. The baby stirred slightly at his touch, their little fingers curling around his thumb, and Astarion’s breath caught in his throat.

For a long moment, he just stared down at the baby, his gaze filled with wonder and disbelief.

“I’ve done a lot of things in my life,” he said quietly, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the delicate peace of the moment. “Most of them… not good. But this…” He shook his head, his voice thick with emotion. “This is something I never thought I’d have.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for him.

“You deserve this,” you said softly. “We both do.”

Astarion’s eyes flicked back to you, and for a moment, his gaze was full of something vulnerable, something raw.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “For this. For them. For… everything.”

You reached out, placing your hand on his arm, feeling the tension still lingering beneath the surface.

“You’re going to be an amazing father,” you said firmly, leaving no room for doubt. Astarion let out a soft laugh, though it was tinged with emotion.

“I suppose I’ll have to be, won’t I? Not much choice in the matter now.” But there was no regret in his voice, only a quiet determination. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the baby’s forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “You’ve got a lot ahead of you, little one,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “But don’t worry. Your mother and I will be here, every step of the way.”

He looked at you again, his gaze filled with a quiet intensity.

“Together,” he said, his voice steady now, full of resolve. “We’ll do this together.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Wyll stood at the entrance of your room, a rare hesitation in his posture. He’d fought monsters, faced devils, and had become the Blade of Frontiers, a hero in his own right. But this moment, seeing his child for the first time, had him more nervous than he ever remembered feeling.

He glanced at you, resting on the bed, looking exhausted but radiant, and his heart clenched with overwhelming love. He had witnessed your strength through countless battles, but what you had just endured was something far beyond his understanding. You had brought a new life into the world—his child, your child—and now, it was waiting to meet him for the first time.

The midwife nodded, encouraging him forward, and Wyll took a deep breath before stepping inside. The tiny bundle in her arms was swaddled tightly in a soft blanket, a small, wriggling thing with a mop of dark hair, just like his. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through him as he reached out with trembling hands.

"Go on," you murmured with a tired smile, your voice gentle and reassuring, though you could see the nervousness in his eyes. "Hold your child."

Wyll slowly took the baby into his arms, careful and deliberate, as if he were handling the most fragile treasure in the world. The weight of the tiny body settled against him, and his breath caught in his throat. For a moment, everything else disappeared—the world, the dangers, the chaos. There was only this.

The baby stirred in his arms, letting out a soft, sleepy sound, and Wyll’s heart melted. He looked down into the face of his child, his eyes wide with wonder, and time seemed to stop. He had imagined this moment, dreamed of it even, but nothing could have prepared him for the overwhelming wave of emotion that crashed over him.

"Hello, little one," Wyll whispered, his voice thick with awe. His thumb gently brushed over the baby’s tiny hand, and the baby’s fingers instinctively curled around it. That small gesture made his eyes burn with unshed tears, his chest tightening with a love so fierce it nearly took his breath away. He turned to look at you, his voice soft and filled with emotion.

“Look at them. Just… look at them.” His smile was wide, but there was a hint of disbelief behind it, as if he couldn’t fully grasp that this was real—that this tiny life was part of him, part of you both.

You smiled, your exhaustion temporarily forgotten as you watched Wyll cradle your child. The tenderness in his expression was something you had always loved about him. The way he cared so deeply, not just for you, but for everyone he fought for, everyone he protected. And now, that same fierce devotion was shining through as he held your baby, his baby, as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

Wyll’s gaze returned to the baby, and he chuckled softly, though his voice trembled.

“You’re so small,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against the baby’s. “So perfect.” His words were barely more than a breath, as if speaking too loudly would break the spell of the moment.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring at the tiny face in his arms, his heart full to bursting. The baby squirmed slightly, and Wyll adjusted his grip, instinctively swaying on his feet to soothe them. His touch was gentle, reverent, as though he couldn’t believe he was allowed to hold something so precious.

For a moment, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. Would he be a good father? Would he be able to protect this child, to teach them, to give them the life they deserved? But as he looked down at the baby’s peaceful face, those worries seemed to fade. He didn’t know all the answers, but he knew one thing for certain: he would love this child with everything he had.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the baby’s forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment.

“You’ve got so much ahead of you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But don’t you worry. Your mother and I—we’ll be here every step of the way.”

He looked at you again, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Thank you,” he said, his voice trembling. “For this. For them. For everything.”

He shifted the baby slightly in his arms, cradling them closer to his chest as he sat down beside you. Together, you sat in peaceful silence, the weight of the moment settling over you both. Wyll’s heart was full, more than it had ever been, and as he looked down at the tiny life in his arms, he knew that this was only the beginning.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The room was bathed in the soft glow of a setting sun, casting warm golden light across the floor as you lay in bed, utterly spent but at peace. The long hours of labor had taken everything from you, and yet, you felt a quiet, serene joy as you looked down at the tiny bundle nestled against your chest. Your baby, warm and sleeping soundly after the ordeal, made every ounce of effort worth it.

Halsin had been with you for every moment of the labor, never leaving your side, his strong, reassuring presence a constant comfort. He had been so calm, so focused, using all of his experience as a healer and midwife to guide you through the pain, offering soft words of encouragement, steady hands to hold. He’d seen countless births before, delivered more children than he could remember over the course of his long life. But now, standing near the bed, looking at you and the baby with a strange, hesitant expression on his face, he was a different man.

You caught his eye, seeing the quiet turmoil behind the tenderness in his gaze. He had helped you bring this child into the world, but now, as the reality of it all settled in, it seemed as though Halsin was uncertain. You could sense his hesitation, the way his fingers twitched at his sides, as if he were holding himself back from stepping closer. It was so unlike him to be unsure of anything, especially something as familiar as holding a baby.

“Halsin,” you called softly, your voice still hoarse from the effort. “Come here.”

His eyes flickered to yours, and there was something deep in his gaze—an emotion that he rarely let show. He approached, slowly, as though he were afraid of disturbing the peace of the moment. The air felt heavy with something unspoken, something more than just the awe of meeting his child for the first time. He had held thousands of newborns, but this… this was his.

When he finally reached you, he knelt beside the bed, his large hands resting gently on the mattress as he looked at you and the baby. His gaze was soft, full of love, but there was a trace of uncertainty, a vulnerability that made your heart ache for him.

“I’ve delivered so many babies in my time,” Halsin said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “I have held them, cared for them, watched their mothers smile with pride… But this is different. This is ours.”

The depth of his words sank into you, and you reached out, placing your hand gently on his.

“Halsin,” you murmured, “you’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.”

He nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes fixed on the tiny form cradled against you.

“I have. And yet, now that it’s here…” His voice wavered for a moment, something that almost never happened to the confident, wise druid. “I find myself unsure.”

You smiled softly, lifting the baby a little, motioning for him to take them. “You’ve done this a thousand times. But I understand—it’s different when it’s your own child.”

He hesitated again, his eyes searching yours for a long moment, before finally reaching out to gently take the baby into his arms. His touch was tender, far more careful than it needed to be for someone who had handled newborns for centuries. But as the baby settled into his arms, the look of awe and wonder on Halsin’s face was something you had never seen before. His whole demeanor shifted, as though the weight of this moment was finally settling in, and he was letting himself feel it fully.

The baby stirred slightly, tiny fists curling and uncurling as they nestled against Halsin’s chest. He breathed out slowly, a deep, shuddering breath, as though the enormity of the moment was finally catching up with him.

“They’re so small,” he whispered, his voice full of wonder. “So… perfect.”

You watched him, your heart swelling with love as you saw the gentle giant of a man cradling the baby with such care, such reverence. There was no one else in the world you trusted more in this moment, and seeing the tenderness in his eyes only made you love him more.

“They are,” you agreed softly. “And they have your nose.”

Halsin’s lips twitched into a soft smile, though his gaze never left the baby’s face.

“I suppose they do,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet joy. “A piece of me, and a piece of you… a perfect balance.”

For a long moment, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound the gentle breathing of the baby in Halsin’s arms. You watched him, watched the way his heart seemed to melt with every tiny movement, every small breath.

Halsin leaned down slightly, brushing a kiss across the baby’s forehead, his expression full of love and reverence.

“I never imagined this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “To have something so precious, so full of life, to protect and nurture.”

“You’ll be an amazing father,” you assured him, reaching out to gently brush your fingers against his cheek. “You already are.”

He turned his gaze to you then, and the look in his eyes nearly stole your breath away. There was so much love there, so much gratitude and wonder.

“And you,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, “are the most incredible person I’ve ever known. What you’ve done today… you’ve given me a gift I can never repay.”

You smiled softly, your heart full. “You don’t need to repay me, Halsin. We did this together.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes filled with awe as he looked down at the baby again. “Together,” he repeated quietly, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Always.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rolan:

The room was dimly lit by the early evening light filtering through the curtains. You lay back in bed, exhausted but content, a quiet joy filling your heart after the long hours of labor. The midwives had just left, and now it was just you, Rolan, and the little bundle swaddled in blankets beside you. Rolan had been pacing for the last few minutes, wringing his hands in that nervous way he did when he was overwhelmed, clearly on the edge of his emotions. You watched him, feeling the anticipation radiating from him, and a soft smile tugged at your lips.

"Rolan," you called gently, your voice tired but warm.

He stopped his pacing and turned to you, his eyes wide, as if he had been waiting for some sort of permission. You knew him well enough to understand what was holding him back—this was new, different, a moment he had been dreaming of but was terrified to actually embrace. He was usually so confident, especially with his magic and his sharp tongue, but here, in the presence of his own child, that facade of arrogance had melted away.

"Come," you said softly, motioning to the baby. "It's your turn."

His eyes flickered from you to the tiny figure nestled in the blankets, and you saw a spark of wonder light up in his gaze. Slowly, as if in a trance, he approached the bedside, his breath coming in shallow, quiet huffs. He stood there for a moment, just looking, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft, a touch of uncertainty in his tone. "What if… What if I—"

"You won't drop them," you assured him with a small smile. "Just hold them like this," you added, gently guiding his hands to support the baby.

Rolan swallowed hard, nodding as he gingerly slid his hands under the baby. As soon as he lifted the tiny bundle into his arms, the world seemed to shift. He held them as if they were the most delicate thing he had ever touched, cradling them close to his chest. The look on his face was one of pure awe, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was holding was real.

"They're… perfect," Rolan whispered, his voice breaking slightly as he gazed down at the baby. His fingers lightly brushed the baby's cheek, and a breathless laugh escaped him when the baby’s tiny hand instinctively curled around one of his fingers. "By the gods, look at them."

The way he said it, with such reverence, such pure admiration, made your heart swell. You had never seen Rolan like this before—completely vulnerable, overwhelmed with emotion, his usually sharp, guarded demeanor utterly gone. His gaze never left the baby's face, his expression full of wonder and disbelief.

"They're beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "How… How did we do this? How can something so… perfect come from us?"

Tears pricked at your eyes as you watched him, the love and awe in his face making your chest tighten. "It feels unreal, doesn't it?"

Rolan nodded slowly, still staring at the baby with wide, glistening eyes.

"I—I don't even know what to say," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never thought I could feel this… this way. I never knew…" He trailed off, shaking his head as if words had failed him completely.

The baby stirred slightly in his arms, their tiny face scrunching up for a brief moment before relaxing again, and Rolan's breath hitched. He looked down at the baby as if they were the most precious thing in the world—because, to him, they were. His shoulders sagged slightly as he let out a shaky breath, his gaze softening even further.

"They're so small," he whispered, his voice full of awe. "So fragile. I don't know how to… how to be enough for them."

"You'll be more than enough," you said softly, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm. "Look at you, Rolan. You're already in love with them."

He glanced at you then, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and he gave you a small, shaky smile.

"How could I not be?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion. "They're… gods, they're perfect."

For a moment, he just stood there, holding the baby close, his expression one of pure, unfiltered love. It was as if the rest of the world had disappeared, and it was just him and the baby, wrapped in a quiet, sacred moment of connection. You could see the way his entire being had softened, the way he was completely, utterly captivated by the tiny life in his arms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Raphael:

The room was filled with the flickering warmth of the hearthfire, casting long shadows across the walls. You lay in bed, utterly exhausted after the long hours of labor but relieved, heart swelling with joy. A small, fragile bundle rested in your arms—a new life, the child you and Raphael had brought into this world.

Raphael stood near the foot of the bed, his crimson eyes glowing brighter than usual, a mix of wonder, pride, and something else—a fierceness, as if this was a moment he had been anticipating for centuries. His typical, devilish arrogance seemed softened, his sharp grin tempered by genuine emotion.

"My love," he said, his voice as smooth as velvet but tinged with an awe you rarely heard. "You have done it. You have given me an heir—our child."

You could see the pride swelling in him, his chest puffing out as if he were ready to declare this triumph to the entirety of the Nine Hells. He approached the bedside with an intensity in his step, eyes fixed on the newborn. His hands, for once devoid of their usual grandeur, reached out to gently touch the tiny head wrapped in swaddling cloths.

For a moment, his gaze softened even further, lips parting as if to say something tender, but instead, the devil in him couldn't help but emerge. He straightened up, lifting his chin with a certain dramatic flair.

"An heir to rule the Hells, to carry forth my legacy," he whispered with reverence, his eyes now alight with a wicked gleam.

He reached down, gently but firmly, and scooped the baby up into his arms.

"Look, little one!" he declared, turning towards the open window that faced a tear in reality—the distant, shimmering view of Avernus, the first layer of Hell. "All of this will one day be yours. The Hells will tremble beneath your feet, just as they have mine."

With surprising ease, Raphael lifted the newborn up, holding them toward the portal to Hell as if presenting his child to the infernal realm itself.

His pride was palpable, his voice thick with grandeur and excitement. "You will be the most feared and respected, a ruler, a—"

"Raphael!" you snapped, sitting up in bed, alarmed. "Stop lifting the baby like that!"

Your sharp voice broke through his grandiose moment. He immediately froze, his eyes wide with surprise. Then, as if suddenly realizing the absurdity of holding a newborn up in such a manner, he lowered the baby back down, cradling them properly against his chest. The fierce glow in his eyes softened, and for the first time, you saw the slightest flush of embarrassment creep across his sharp features.

"My apologies," he murmured, glancing at you sheepishly, though his smile was still laced with pride. "I—" He cleared his throat, chuckling softly. "I was simply… enthralled by the moment. They are just… perfect."

Raphael looked down at the tiny face of his child, his usually cocky and collected demeanor cracking, revealing the depth of his emotions. His thumb gently stroked the baby’s cheek, his gaze fixed on them as if nothing else in the world mattered. For all the pride and theatrics, there was no denying the raw tenderness in his eyes now.

"You’ve given me more than I ever thought possible," he said quietly, his voice losing its usual boastfulness. "This child—our child—has made me proud in ways I cannot even begin to describe."

He stepped closer to the bed, slowly lowering himself to sit beside you, still cradling the baby in his arms as though they were the most precious thing in existence. "And you, my love… You’ve given me everything. I shall never forget this."

You smiled, despite the earlier scare, your heart warmed by his devotion, his love. Even now, in this quiet moment, Raphael was both the devil you knew and something far more vulnerable—a father. His fingers, so accustomed to weaving magic and signing infernal pacts, were now tender, holding his newborn as if they were made of glass.

"You don’t need to show them Hell just yet," you teased, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face, still tired but comforted by Raphael’s presence.

Raphael chuckled, his sharp grin returning as he gently rocked the baby in his arms.

"Perhaps not," he conceded with a glint in his eye. "But one day, they will know it—just as they will know the heights of power they were born for. But for now… they shall only know peace. And love."

His voice softened as he gazed down at your child, his earlier bombastic nature ebbing away as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the baby’s forehead. He held them close, marveling at the tiny life nestled in his arms.

"So small," he whispered, more to himself than to you. "And yet, they will shape the fate of realms."

For a long while, Raphael stayed like that, his eyes never leaving the baby, his body unusually still, completely captivated. You watched him, seeing the pride and love interwoven with his usual ambition. And in that moment, you realized that, for all his grand schemes and devilish desires, this was the most important thing in the world to him—your family, your child.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The restraint I had to have to not put in the 'everything the light touches is our kingdom' line from lion king in Raphael's bit ahaha. Hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[chronicowboy]

Buck doesn't know how long they sit there in that café just talking. He's never had that before. The last time he'd done this, sat across from Natalia in the midday sun, he'd been excruciatingly aware of every passing minute as he tried to be fascinating to her, spun yarns of deaths and near-deaths and deathly comas. Here, now, Buck just exists and that seems to be more than enough for Tommy.

Tommy who hangs on his every word like Buck is the next Shakespeare even as he's rambling about rainbow emojis and allyship. Tommy whose smile is so big and wide that it carves the most beautiful caverns into his face that Buck kind of wants to live in. Tommy who grimaces every time he sips the coffee Buck bought him but dutifully drinks the whole thing over the course of their date even when Buck tells him he doesn't have to. Tommy who keeps muffling yawns into his fist every five minutes having just gotten off a twenty-four hour shift like he'd stay in that uncomfortable metal seat forever if he could.

It's the best second date of his life, so when Buck tells him to go home and get some sleep, he doesn't resist the urge to prolong the date for the few moments it takes him to walk Tommy to his car. With anyone else, so soon into whatever this might turn out to be, Buck would worry that it's too much too soon. But Tommy has been so loud in his affection even with how gentle he's made sure to stay. Buck wants to be as free in his wanting as Tommy as is, so he reaches out and slips his fingers between Tommy's, damn near euphoric when they begin to swing between them as they walk.

It takes a moment to drag his eyes up to Tommy's face, caught up in the feeling of a hand in his. It's not the first time he's held a hand, far from it. Not even the first time he's held a man's hand. But this isn't Eddie letting him squeeze his fingers as he screams in pain. This isn't Taylor indulging him every now and then. This is Tommy smiling softly down at their hands like he's as mesmerised by it as Buck is, the tips of his ears growing pink and sending a giddy thrill of satisfaction through him.

"Can I ask you something?" Tommy says, giving Buck's hand a happy little squeeze.

"Don't think there's a limit on second date questions," Buck replies.

"Evan." And, Jesus, there's something about the way Tommy says his name. Even when it's that chiding little tone that should remind him of his parents, all he feels is an overwhelming warmth, all he can hear is fondness.

"Of course you can." Buck grins and watches Tommy's smile crinkle his face all over again like he just can't help it.

"Why'd you choose that abomination of a coffee for me?" And Buck groans just to hear Tommy laugh. "Really? What even was that?"

"Black coffee four sugars," Buck mumbles, kicking a stone across the sidewalk sheepishly.

"Jesus, Evan." Tommy's laugh is something special, loud and unrestrained and the sound of sunshine maybe. "Why?"

"I-I don't know, I panicked!" Buck doesn't realise he's drifting away from Tommy until the man pulls him back in by their joined hands, and Buck lets the bump of their shoulders calm him. "Just thought, you know..." Buck turns towards Tommy's car, but Tommy drags him gently towards the Jeep, leaning against the door when they reach it.

"You just thought..."

"I don't know." He shrugs, heat rising to his cheeks under the weight of Tommy's bright-eyed attention, lowers his voice all the way. "It reminded me of you."

"What was that?" Tommy grins, using the excuse to move in a little closer.

"It reminded me of you," Buck repeats, clearer this time, more confident. "You know, bit foreboding on the outside, but all sweet on the inside."

"Christ, you really are adorable," Tommy breathes, sounding as effected as Buck feels.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies swarms in his stomach, delightfully unfamiliar to him but already intoxicating, almost addicting.

It's not two men stood on a busy sidewalk in the middle of the day then. It's just Buck and someone he really fucking likes, someone he hasn't been able to stop thinking about for a week, someone he's only kissed once somehow. And suddenly that's a fact that absolutely should be rectified.

Buck steps forward, leaning up just ever so slightly on his toes, and kisses Tommy right there in the middle of LA. And it just feels right. Overwhelming in the best of ways. It's a quick press of lips, something more suited to the schoolboy he feels than the very adult man he is, not the kiss he wants but the kiss they both need. Chaste and lovely. A hello again. A beginning.

Tommy's free hand ghosts against his jaw, a flutter of a touch as Buck falls back onto his heels and takes a breath. It takes Tommy a few moments to open his eyes which means Buck gets to watch them flutter open, dazed and delighted.

"Get some sleep, Tommy," Buck tells him, finally letting go of his hand with a squeeze. "Text me when you wake up."

"Yessir," Tommy murmurs.

And Buck can't resist another kiss then, just as quick and chaste, anything else dangerous to Buck's self-restraint, before he unlocks the Jeep and climbs in. Tommy waves him off, and Buck glances back just in time to see Tommy's hand falling down to his lips as if to chase Buck's touch.

[the-secret-keeper]

Twisted Wonderland Dorm Leaders ( - Kalim and Vil) X Reader

Not requested, just inspired. I was thinking about the diet that Vil put the characters on at the VDC/SDC, and I was wondering what it would be like if the reader couldn't eat what Vil had directed them to eat, so they go to the other dorm leaders to beg for food. Maybe because of an allergy, maybe because of a sensory issue, or a different health issue, it's not specified.

This could be read as Platonic or Romantic. GN Reader

Malleus' scenario is when you invite him to the VDC/SDC but with a little more added on to fit the scenario.

TWs: Mentions of hunger/starvation, mentions of not eating, and mentions of tampering with food.

Minor angst

You were so hungry. You had already tried hiding food from Vil, and not even anything that was unhealthy, just something that wasn't within his diet regulations. But he had found it, and you had gotten scolded. You wanted to eat with everyone else, but you just couldn't, and it seemed like Vil hadn't noticed. Some of the others had, but for your own sake hadn't questioned it, not wanting to make you talk about it if you were uncomfortable.

You had nowhere else to turn, so you turned to them. As embarrassed as you were, you put your pride to the side in an attempt to get some scraps of food.

Riddle Rosehearts

"I'm sorry, what?" He asked, incredulously. "You want food?"

"Not much! I swear!" You quickly defended. "Even just a small portion, I promise, I'm not trying to eat you out of house and home. I just," You sighed, tired and out of energy, "I can't eat."

"You can't?"

"What Vil is making me try to eat, I can't eat it. And I am starving, Riddle." You begged him. "I will do anything, for just a little bit of food. I'll clean, I'll help cook it, I'll help Ace and Deuce study, I'll do chores for however long you want. Just, please, Riddle."

In an act of desperation, you got down on your knees in front of his desk where he had previously been doing homework. You clasped your hands together, your last shred of dignity flying out the window as tears pricked your eyes.

Here you were, literally begging on your knees in front of your friend for food. You felt guilty, but you also knew that you could trust Riddle. And it's not as if you were just asking for food and leaving, you were offering a trade for the food.

"I am literally begging you. Please, Riddle." He got up and rounded the desk.

"Get up, you don't need to beg." He gently scolded, helping you to your feet. "Come on, let's get you some food from the kitchen. We can't give you enough food for the rest of the week, but we can at least offer you a meal for now, and invite you to dinner at least a few more times this week."

"Thank you! Thank you so much, Riddle. You're a life saver." You beamed, wiping away a few of the tears that had trailed down from your eyes. You would hug him, but he's not really used to physical affection, and didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"This is just doing the bare minimum. You're my friend, and if the person who is supposed to be taking care of you isn't, then I shall help you in any way you can." He nodded to his own words.

"You really are the best." You smiled at him, and he turned a little red.

"Come on. Let's go talk to Trey about getting you something to eat." He led you out of his office, and towards the kitchen.

Leona Kingscholar

"Shishishi." Ruggie laughed as he left you at Leona's door. "Good luck."

You probably would've gotten better results if you had asked Ruggie out right, and you acknowledge this as you stand in front of Leona's bedroom door. But, you decided to be vague, only stating that you needed a favor from Leona, rather than being up front. But you've made your bed, now you must lie in it. You mustered up the little courage you had, tossing your pride out, and knocked on Leona's door.

There was no response, which wasn't really unusual. You'd gotten closer with Leona lately, but it was still pretty normal for you to find him sleeping at all hours of the day, or for him to doze off while you were with him. You entered anyway, deciding to just rip of the bandage before you lost your nerve.

"Leona." You called once the door was closed behind you. "I need to talk with you."

"Whaddya want herbivore?" Leona asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

"I need a favor."

"Again? After the Octavinelle incident, I thought you'd never want to ask me anything ever again."

"Leona, please." You sighed, walking closer to his bed so he could see you.

"You look like shit." He commented.

"Leona." You scolded lightly, before shaking your head. "Look, it's not like I want to ask you a favor. But you're the only one I can sort of trust in this damn school that won't also get in trouble for helping me."

"Hmm?" He raised an eyebrow. "What kind of favor is this that you're worried your friends will get in trouble for helping you?"

"Vil has us on a really strict diet, and I can't eat any of it. But when I bought my own food and hid it from him, just so that I could eat and not bother him or anyone, he either tampered with it or threw it out. If I try again, I'll get in trouble, as will Ace, Deuce, and Grim if they help me. I would go to Jack, but he's still an underclassmen to Vil, so he might get in trouble too. But you're on the same level as him, so he can't scold you."

"As if he would try. What exactly are you asking of me?"

"Please, Leona, I need some food."

"Ha?"

"I'm not asking for a five course meal, just a little bit of food. Even just a small meal, or a bit of a portion of food from the meals your dorm eats. Please, Leona." He mulled it over for a few moments, the silence hanging heavily in the air.

"On one condition." He smirked, sitting up in his bed, leaning against the headboard.

"What?" You asked, apprehensive of what he may ask you to do. Target practice? Hours and hours of chess? Personal servant for an indefinite amount of time? What?

"Beg me. Beg me properly." You breathed a sigh of relief, happy that was all he wanted. It might be embarrassing, perhaps even a bit degrading, but at this point, you're desperate.

You sunk to your knees, looking Leona in the eyes. His eyes widened momentarily, in shock that you're actually willing to do what he asked. You clasped your hands together in front of you.

"I am begging you Leona. Please, help me." You begged. "I need your help, please."

"Alright, alright." He waved off your begging. "I'll tell Ruggie to make you something. And you can come and go whenever, and take food, just don't take too much."

"Thank you! This means so much, Leona." You thanked, shooting up from your position on the floor in front of him as he got up from his bed.

"Don't mention it." He sighed, walked towards the door. "I'm serious. Don't tell anyone about this." He glared.

"Never." You swore, crossing your heart with your pointer finger. He raised an eyebrow, confused at your action, but rolled his eyes.

"You coming or what?" You scrambled to quickly follow after him out of the room and towards the kitchen.

Azul Ashengrotto

"I'd like to make a deal." You had said to Jade, as he was the first one you saw upon entering the Mostro Lounge. He only smiled, that scary smile he always has on his face, and gestured for you to follow him, which you did.

He led you through the lounge, and to the back. Azul's office door was closed, as it usually was when you came to visit. You had grown quite close after the incident at Scarabia, and visited every now and then. But you hadn't been able to since Vil and the others had moved in.

Jade opened the door after knocking, telling Azul that he had a visitor. Azul looked up to see you, and smiled.

"What brings you here today?" He asked.

"They'd like to make a deal." Jade said cryptically before leaving. Azul looked at you, a little shocked, but it barely showed on his face.

"Is that true?" You nodded. "What can I do for you then?"

"I don't have much to offer in exchange for my request." You warned.

"I am aware. But I'm sure we can come up with something." His customer service persona was shining through, and it was almost impressive. "Now, what can I do for you?" You hesitated. "I have had my fair share of weird requests, rest assured, there's nothing to be embarrassed of." He tried to reassure you.

"Food." You weakly mumbled, almost pained by the request.

"I'm sorry, I fear I may have misheard you." He blinked, looking like a statue for a moment. "Did you say you wanted... food?"

"Yes.." You nodded.

"I apologize, I'm just a little confused. May I ask why you want food? I mean, don't you have food at your dorm? I know the budget is limited, but..." he trailed off.

"Vil, has put the entire team for the VDC/SDC on a very strict diet. And while I get what his intentions are, I can't eat the things he's trying to make me eat. I tried to buy my own food using the money I got from working shifts here, but he either threw it out or tampered with it. I'm sorry to be such an inconvenience, Azul, I'm just... I'm at my limit. I'm starving."

"He tampered with your food? How?"

"He hexed it." You told him. "It was just supposed to be to deter the others from eating it, since technically I don't need to be on the diet, but he did it to my private food stash too, so I fear he may be trying to make it so everyone has to eat the same thing. But like I said, I can't eat it. I can't. So, I'd like to make a deal. In exchange for some food, I'll work for free or something at the Mostro Lounge after the VDC/SDC." You tried to bargain.

"No, no, no, that simply won't do." He shook his head. "You already get an employee discount, but I'll comp your meals until the VDC/SDC is finished. Everyone should be allowed to eat." He told you. "Come in anytime, I'll inform the other employees that you are not to be charged."

"Really?"

"Yes. But, on one condition."

"What's the condition?"

"Come here when you have free time. Your company is nice, and it has been too long since we have spent time together." You smiled at him.

"It's a deal." You agreed. "Thank you, Azul. You're amazing! I mean it! This means everything to me!" You praised.

"Yes, I am. Feel free to spread the word about how generous I am." He laughed lightly. "Go outside and order something, then come back in here. You can do homework and eat as I work on contracts." You nodded, walking out to find Jade to order some food.

Idia Shroud

It was Ortho who had suggested it. He knew you and his brother were close, or at least closer than Idia was to the other students in this school. Ortho was concerned about your health, seeing it slowly decline as you weren't able to eat. He had practically dragged you to his brothers bedroom door out of concern for your health.

"Big Brother!" Ortho called. "Your friend is here, and they need your help." No response. You knocked rather loudly.

"Idia, I need to talk with you, please." You called out. A silence settled, and you were about to give up when the door opened.

"Come in." Idia said, allowing you into his dorm. He gestured for Ortho to come in to, but Ortho flew off before he could ask. "Ortho said you needed help."

"I hate to ask." You sighed.

"Well," he stammered, "you... you don't have to."

"I kinda do though." You acknowledged. "Idia, can I... can I have some food?"

"Food?" You shocked him out of his embarrassed state. "I'm sorry... food? Why do you want food? No, wait, that was a stupid question!" He panicked. "Of course you want food, everybody wants food, it's a necessity of life, even in games you need food," he began to rant, "I meant to ask why you want food from me, or, or, or, why you need to ask me for food?"

"Because," You interrupted his stammering, panicking, fast-speaking state, "because Vil has put everyone on a diet, and he's tampered with any food he's deemed to be outside of the diet. But I can't eat what he's asking me to eat. I just can't, Idia. But when I tried to buy my own food and hide it from him, he tampered with or threw that out too. I am really hungry Idia. And I hate to ask this of you, but can I please have some food?"

"Oh... OH of course. I'll order food for you right away."

"I can't, eat it at my dorm, Idia." You warned. "Vil will have a fit." He pulled up his phone.

"Then I'll just have to order it to be delivered to here, and you can eat it with me. Can't get in trouble with Vil if another dorm leader invited you to eat with them, right?" You blinked, slightly shocked at his cunning behavior.

"But... what if Vil gets angry at you?" You asked.

"That is a scary thought, he's rather.... intimidating." Idia acknowledged. "But, if he can't find me, he can't scold me, and he's never been to Ignihyde." Silence overtook you both for a moment, before you burst out laughing, beaming at Idia.

"Thank you, Idia!" You smiled. He chuckled a little as well.

Malleus Draconia

You didn't have to look long to find your friend Tsunotaro. He never seemed to be too far away when you needed him. Which was nice, in this case. You spotted him not too far away from Ramshackle, and managed to sneak past Vil's room just quiet enough to get out the door, and speed-walk towards your friend.

"Hi Hornton!" You greeted cheerfully, the envelope you'd been hoping to give him tucked safely in your pocket. He turned, and smiled softly at you.

"Greetings, child of man." He greeted, watching as you rushed up to him. "It's been some time. I trust all is well?" You waved your hand in a so-so motion.

"It's been better." You admitted. "But I'm doing ok right now!"

"I'm glad to hear it. It's good to see you in high spirits." He smiled.

"I had a question. Were you the one who sent the holiday greeting card?" You asked.

"Ah... that's right. I did give a card to Lilia to send. I never received a reply though." A bolt of guilt shot through you, even though you had no real way to respond or know if it was him or not. Especially given the fact that you needed to ask a favor of him. "You've surmised correctly. You really have no idea who I am, do you? Heh."

"I'd like to give you something in return for the card."

Maybe after you give him these tickets, you'll be even, and you'll be able to ask this favor without guilt. You are friends, right? He's your friend, so he might be willing to help you. You handed him the envelopes with the tickets in it. He carefully opened it, taking out the tickets to look at them.

"Are these... tickets to the show they're putting on at this year's culture fair?" He asked, almost shocked at the gift. "Are you actually inviting me?" He looked shell-shocked. You nodded enthusiastically, causing him to start laughing. "You truly have no fear at all." He smiled at you. "Very well. I shall accept your gracious invitation. Will you be in it?"

"No, I'm the team manager." You admitted. "But Vil and Kalim will be in it?" He should certainly know them, you thought, as they were dorm leaders.

"Oh, you're the team manager? Pity." He hummed. "But Schoenheit and Asim will be in it? Heh. That should be quite the spectacle. I'll look forward to the festival. Have a good night," He began to bade. You panicked.

"Wait!" You exclaimed, reaching forward and grabbing his arm, causing him to look at you with a little bit of shock. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to yell. And I feel guilty for even having to ask this of you after it took so long for me to respond to your holiday card." You admitted, sighing as you let him go.

"Ask what of me, child of man?"

"I told you that I'm the team manager. Vil had imposed a diet for the entire team, and unfortunately, that includes me. But I can't eat anything that he's making us eat. And I tried," your eyes pricked with tears, desperate for a solution you were hoping Hornton could provide, "I tried to just buy my own food and hide it from him, so I wouldn't bother anyone and I could still eat. But he found it, and he threw out most of it, and hexed what was left. And I'm just..." You tried not to sniffle, as a few tears escaped your eyes out of frustration at your situation and the fact that you're crying in front of your good friend, "I'm desperate at this point, Hornton. I'm starving. So, while I hate to ask this of you, and you absolutely do not have to do this, do you think I could maybe have some food?" You asked, getting quieter and quieter as you continued to speak.

"Schoenheit is not letting you eat?" He asked.

"It's not that he's not letting me eat, but he's not listening when I'm telling him I can't eat what he's trying to get me to eat." You explained.

"He... he hexed your food?" You nodded to his question, hearing thunder rumble from somewhere in the distance, despite the fact that it was winter. "Come, child of man," he held his hand out for you to take, "we shall feast tonight. And if Schoenheit has a problem with it, than he can talk to the dorm leader of Diasomnia about it." You nearly started crying out of relief. Bypassing his hand, you just slammed into him fully, hugging him tightly.

He must be quite good friends with his dorm leader, you found yourself thinking as he led you away from Ramshackle.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey Author! I love your BatFam work, and I was wondering if you could write something for the boys (especially Jason 🤤) reactions if the friend they had a crush on told them that their s/o had forgotten their birthday/anniversary/some other important day in their life?

Jason

Finds it insulting that your apparent ‘partner’ hasn’t spoiled you rotten, praise you for blessing their life with your love, time and affection, nor worshiped the ground you walked upon but instead forgot the most important day of your life and for what?

There was no excuse and Jason knew that if he were your man, he’d have everything planned months in advance for you, things such as a long winded letter that told you how much he adored you; followed by plenty of small gifts with deeper meanings for the pair of you scattered throughout the apartment.

However the grim reality was that he wasn’t your man, you were in the arms of someone who didn’t know what they have is someone who is one in a million.

He’d would try and attempt to write something sweet and heartwarming for you, all in hopes of replicating the very things he reads in books, and while he may not be good at it but he’s more then willing to try for you regardless.After all it was more effort than what your partner was putting in, claiming you weren’t worth the headache of planning for anymore.

Something so which that upon finding out, only proved to piss Jason off as to him that wasn’t love, it wasn’t anything at all and you certainly shouldn’t be on the receiving end of such..laziness. So while his best might not be good, but it sure as hell was a masterpiece in comparison of doing nothing for you like your asshole of a partner. He’d get you a plush that looked like him and tell you that it’s hiding a message, or a little gift that you might like, something for you to open when you were alone to read and or open the packaging.

If your partner was out for the night then Jason would have you come over to his place where he- with the help of Roy and dick- had decorated his apartment to celebrate you and everything that was you. You might find yourself wearing his hoodie for the night before having to take it off when you had to go home, but Jason would sneak it into your bag while you weren’t looking and when you eventually found it alongside a note telling you that once you were tried of that fool, come and find him.

You were left imagining a life where you had chosen Jason over your pathetic partner and how much more colourful life would be in comparison, but for now you’ll guess that it’s black and grey until you defied that enough was enough.

Bruce

Spends money on you, like serious money amounts of money on anything your heart desires because you deserve the most.

Sure it’s under an anonymous name but it doesn’t take long for one to figure out that it was from Bruce Wayne, for one the gift was expensive for even the most richest of families to afford so effortlessly, not without feeling the impact on their bank account.

Not Bruce Wayne however, never Bruce Wayne as even the most expensive gift in Gotham was an easy purchase for that man, and he’ll happily get if for you with the snap of his fingers, for anything you could ever want was as easy as breathing to come true for the billionaire.

He’d even personally come to your home and invite you to dinner over at his manor, only if you were interested of course he wasn’t going to pressure you.

‘But I’ve got nothing fancy to wear mr Wayne.’ You’d reply.

Bruce waves his hand. ‘Please call me Bruce, and there’s no need for fancy attire just whatever you feel comfortable in because you’d look charming regardless.’

You’d smile, this was the nicest compliment you’ve ever gotten, seeing as how your partner doesn’t even bother taking you out anymore, claiming you were costing them hard earned money and weren’t worth the headache. Something that Bruce disapproved of heavily, sighting that your partner was lazy, unappreciative and neglectful of you in every aspect of the word, and he wasn’t about to allow that to continue.

He was going to show you that you deserved more. That you should look for more from a partner -him- because you deserved someone who was more than willing to have you and isn’t afraid to show you off. *cough* him *cough*

Damian

Like father like son but Damian would gift you small trinkets that he knew you’d like, not because it was to spite your pathetic excuse of a negligent partner but because you deserved to be showered in such gifts.

You deserved to be treated more then how your current partner was treating you in general, and he’ll gladly show you such as he takes you out along with the dogs. Not only would he bring the dogs but he’d take you on a park date where you both painted on canvases, eat sweet treats and just have an overall good time together.

You know like a proper couple. Your partner should take notes.

Damian would tell you that you should break up with your partner, straight up, no mincing his words, he truly thinks that if one is unhappy on their relationship they should just leave and search for someone better. In this case your better partner was him, simple as that.

He wants you to wake up and realise that the better you’d wish to have was right in front of you, more than ready to lay down his life for you at any minor inconveniences should you ask him to. That and the dogs love you to death and didn’t like your partner neither as they’d growl at them to show their distain for the shitbag.

‘It’s Gotham, there is no better Damian, there’s just what you get and you have to live with it.’ You told him as you overlooked the city.

‘There is.’ Damian stated as he stared at you, the crappy city lights made you look angelic in his eyes and he’ll badly die on that no matter what. Then he glanced down at your hand, wanting nothing more than to hold it within his own, keeping it warm and safe in his like he should’ve from the start. ‘They…just weren’t fast enough to save you from that poor excuse for a partner.’ He adds with venom when referring to your partner.

You glanced over at him, searching him for a bluff but only finding the truth when his eyes remained on you, baring it all for you to read until you were satisfied. Damian wasn’t going to do anything until you make the first step and cut ties with your current partner and seek him out afterwards, so until then he’ll wait, he’ll always wait.

Dick

Takes you on an impromptu date…as friends of course…unless…👀

Dick thinks your partner is well….a dick for not wanting to spend time with you during your special day, but yet was more then willing to take your mind off of something negative and make something positive for you to focus on. Dick believed you shouldn’t have to be miserable and alone because someone else couldn’t be bothered to shower you in affection and appreciation.

He’ll gladly do so in their stead by locking arms with you, putting his hand on your lower back when in crowded areas, or just finding some way to keep hold of you however he could to prove that a love should go deeper then spoken words. Words to dick can only display feelings so far before you have to show it through other means and dick was the most affectionate when he was with you.

It was almost as though whenever he was within your presence, he felt the need to hold your hand, smile at you in a way that was special for the both of you, hold your face in his hands as he presses his forehead against yours while staring deeply into your eyes. Anything and everything he could think of dick found himself wanted to do with you and only you, and so if your partner wasn’t going to spend time with you, dick will and he will do it because he wants to be with you.

To Dick, being with you wasn’t a chore or an obligation to him, he wanted to be with you because he genuinely likes you and so much more.

Dick will bring Hayley because you loved her so much, and he will bring her often just to see you smile as you greeted the dog with open arms as she licked your face with affection. After all everyone loves dogs.

Dick would show you everything you’re missing out on and leaving you with the question; were you with the right person?

Tim

Finds it despicable that your partner couldn’t be arsed to spend time with you or get you gifts. He knows he can do a thousand times better than him. A thousand times better then him but I’d only he asked you out first before the rat of a person did, it’s a regret he holds within his heart and blames his hesitance for on many instances.

Tim would go so far as to find online shops and spend -on Bruce’s credit card no less because this man has those numbers memorised- on things that he remember you saying in passing that you liked but couldn’t afford unfortunately.

He’d have movie nights with you as you both shared his computer, eating pizza and your favourite sweets that he just so casually remembers, all the while just being over all comfortable with one another as sooner or later you’d rest your head again his shoulder.

Now this wouldn’t have looked like much, but when you had a crush on someone who was with someone who didn’t treat them like you did, Tim felt ask though he was within his one little dimension with you. He felt as though he was living the dream he was too afraid to make reality, he felt how right this was and how perfectly seamless this all was between the two of you; this was the dream he wanted to live with you in but until you break up with that prick, he couldn’t give you the life you so deserved in his eyes.

‘Thank you Tim.’ You said sleepily.

‘For what?’ He asks.

‘For everything, for remembering.’ You replied as you continued to watch the movie whereas Tim kept looking at you with a solemn look. You shouldn’t have to thank him for this, not at all because he’d gladly repeat this scenario countlessly for you if you so wanted.

‘No need to thank me,’ Tim told you, ‘I’m just doing what any other would’ve done for you.’ He adds awkwardly, still feeling the regret of not asking you out fast enough for his one liking as he offered you some sweets as the next movie played; ironically it was about a boy pining for someone who is in a shit relationship. Tim silently groaned as he was forced to watch what felt like his current situation play out before him, while you only snuggled up closer to him and casually saying.

‘This is one of my favourites.’

Tim knew even the devil would wince at his predicament, finding it enough torture for him as it was. He only hopes that you break up with the prick sooner rather the later before he says something stupid and by accident.

[natlovesls2]

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

Lando x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), gaslighting, sexism/ internalized misogyny, swearing, no use of y/n, some plot but not much, rushed, grammar mistakes, etc. Please remember that this is fiction, and in no way represents Lando as a person

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 1.7k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You love Lando but he does not feel the same, no matter how long you've waited (For the most part its just inspired Sitting, Waiting, Wishing from the In Between Dreams album, as the title of the fic says)

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

You had always made it painfully clear to Lando that your feelings for him were anything but platonic. If the constant heart eyes weren't enough to prove it then the little gifts and compliments surely should have made it abundantly clear. Surely he wasn’t THAT oblivious, and he wasn’t. You had often heard him boasting to his friends about your everlasting and eager love for him. There was one such instance that you remembered quite well– he had asked you to be his date to some event, in which you had, of course, ended up alone. “Thanks for agreeing to be my date, don’t know what I’d do without you,” he had said as if it even mattered that you were there. 

You watched Lando interact with some bitch he met at– long having forgotten about your presence. Sometimes it felt as if you were a stranger who was invading his space– uninvited and unwanted. She hadn’t wronged you in any way and, yet, you hated her. You hated her stupid face and her stupidly short dress that made her look like a cheap whore. It was obvious that it had to be the reason he was so enamored with her, she looked easy and Lando loved easy girls– and she was practically begging to be fucked. She wrapped her hand around Landos arm and you wished you would walk over to them and break her fucking arm. 

He made it very clear that night that he would never love you, at least not in a romantic sense, he's made that perfectly clear. But no matter how many times he humiliates you, you will fight for his affection, always. Even if that affection comes in the form of lust and only ever is lust.

His constant disregard for your feelings led you to promise yourself that you wouldn’t find yourself in this position with Lando again. In fact, you had sworn that last time would be the final time you found yourself tangled in his bed sheets. Truthfully you had never been strong minded, always giving up on those fitness challenges and never finishing the long books you bought with the intent to feel smart and accomplished. But you were tired of being so destructive– of ruining yourself for someone who obviously didn't give a rats ass. Maybe that's why you were in his apartment, to end it all– at least that's what you were telling yourself. It was all rather pathetic: the look you gave him as he went on about whatever he‘d been going through before you had gotten there. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered, bringing his hands to rest on either side of your hips, occasionally rubbing circles with his thumbs. You knew what he’d be doing if you weren’t there, fucking whatever bimbo threw herself at him. He pulled you closer, resting his head in the crook of your neck, “You’re awfully quiet– what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he asked, pressing gentle kisses to your neck. You could feel yourself begin to give into his intentions– you never were good at saying no to him. After all, your plan to avoid him and kick him out of your life altogether had lasted nearly two weeks… more like five days, but stretching the truth has never hurt anyone.

“Nothing,” you sigh, threading your fingers through his hair, slowly melting into his touch. You could resist the feeling his voice and touch brought upon you. You suppose that's why you’re here again, clothes slightly askew and hair a messy tangle. His hands eagerly explore the expanse of your body, lips impatiently marking down your neck. “I've missed this so much,” he raggedly whispers against your shoulder, rolling his hips against your own. His hands continue to wander, coming to rest at your clothed breasts, gently squeezing them. 

You pull his head up, body leaning into his in a heated kiss– feeling the vibration of his moans against your lips. This wasn’t something you were particularly proud of, but it kept him close to you. It allowed him to show an ounce of affection towards you, even if that affection was pure and unfiltered lust. “Need you,” you whispered in between rushed kisses, trailing kisses down the side of his jaw.  

“I know” he grunted, movements slowing as he brought his hands up your thighs and under your skirt, fingers ghosting over your underwear. Gently applying pressure to your clothed clit, stopping only to move your panties to the side, “God, baby, you’re already so wet.” He teasingly ran his finger up your slit and back down, only inserting the tip of his finger. Lando smirked down at you when you greedily attempted to shift your hips in hopes of getting some sort of relief. He kissed the expanse of your thighs, pulling your underwear down your legs and away. A few more kisses were placed on your thighs before he turned his attention to your pussy, teasingly licking and kissing the area. 

“Please,” you let out a whine as he slowly inserted a finger into your needy and begging pussy. He chuckled at the strangled moan that left your mouth, pressing kisses down your body, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. He continued to work his finger in and out of your pussy, adding another after a while, getting you ready for what was to come.

“Take this off,” he mumbled against your cunt, impatiently pulling the hem of your shirt up exposing your stomach, urging you to pull it off the rest of the way. You pulled the shirt off, tossing it aside before doing the same with your bra.

Your thighs involuntarily close around his head as he curls his fingers, thrusting them a few more times before removing them. He smirked at you, watching as your chest rapidly rose and fell, pushing his face further between your thighs– lapping up your arousal. The slurping like noise coming from between your thighs, giving you a wave of embarrassment as you reached down to tug at his curls. He fucked his tongue in and out, occasionally pulling fully out to run it up to your clit– swirling the nub around. His fingers found their way inside you again as he noticed your brows furrow together, a sign you were getting closer to coming. He increased his speed as your back arched, whines becoming loud moans as you clench around his fingers. 

“I’ll never get tired of seeing that,” he whispers, kissing up your body, wrapping his mouth around your left nipple, cupping and groping your other boob. 

“Mm” you whine, reaching a hand down to massage at his bulge. You felt him smirk against your breast, letting it go with an audible pop.

“So impatient, so desperate for a good fucking, huh?”

You nod rapidly, pushing at his pants, watching as he unbuttons his pants and kicks them off along with his underwear. He smirks as you open your legs wider, wincing slightly as he strokes his almost painfully hard dick, lining it up to your entrance. Perhaps you should have cared a little more as he pushed in with a condom, but in the moment it felt good to be wanted.

 A shuddered breath left you as he began to thrust, strong and steady, the faint sound of skin slapping against skin sounding in the room. “Feels so fucking good,” shakily said, wrapping your legs around Landos waist. Truly it felt as if your whole body had been lit on fire, you were burning with desire. 

“I know it does, baby– shit,” he grunted, slamming his hips against your own at a fast pace, snaking his hand down to rub tight circles against your clit. You clenched around him, quickly reaching your second orgasm. He sped up, holding your hips down, the headboard slamming against the wall. With a deep groan Lando came, spilling inside of you, he pulled out laying down beside you. 

“You don’t need me to drive you home do you?” he asked tiredly, voice a little shaky. 

“No, I drove here.” You stood up collecting your clothes, slipping them on one article at a time. The embarrassment began to seep in, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You sighed, turning to face Lando who now sat at the edge of his bed, “I can’t do this anymore, Lando.”

“Do what?”

“God, you know what I mean!” you said exasperatedly, running a hand through your sweaty and unruly hair.  

“I don’t, so why don't you enlighten me?” he said back, his tone shifting to something more harsh instead of the innocent tone he had been using.

“Us– this whole back and forth thing. I can’t– I just… I love you and you don’t love me. And I can’t continue to be the person you only use when you need them.”

“What?” he rose from his spot, glaring at you.

“God, don’t act like you haven’t noticed– I’ve made it pretty fucking obvious, Lando,” you raised your voice, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“You haven't–” he started. 

“Yeah, because sleeping with you isn't obvious enough. Just cut the bullshit.”

“I don’t know what you expect of me, I thought you were okay with being friends– we’ve had this conversation before, you said it was fine,” he took a step closer to you, eyes glaring into your own. He was challenging you, like he always did, because he knew you always gave in. Always accepted whichever shitty excuse he gave. Always accepted the whole “I’m not ready for a relationship” spiel. 

“Friends don’t fuck eachother, Lando.”

“Well we do, and if you can’t accept that we’ll never be more than friends then you can take your slutty ass out of here.” This was your breaking point. It hadnt been his abandonment at parties, or the way he bragged about how you let him fuck you to his friends, or the sheer lack of care for your emotional wellbeing. No, it was the way he had spat that word at you– slut. That's all you had been throughout the majority of your friendship. A hole that had been willing to be filled.

You started at him, mouth agape with disbelief, “You’re a fucking asshole. Oh my god, how did I not notice,” you let out a humorless laugh, shoving him out of the way. And as you walked out of his home, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You had a lot to learn and unlearn.

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚note: this was my first time writing smut, so I apologize if it sucks or makes no sense. feedback is appreciated, but please be nice because I scare easily lol

[retroellie]

Polluted

Summary: After a long day of work, Spencer comes home and fucks his stresses away.

A/N: This was written in literally 45 minutes but I had this idea and I couldn't make it into a full fic, my mind could only think of the smut part lmao. Enjoy!!! :)

Warnings: NSFW, slapping, degradation, squirting, unprotected sex, mean!spencer

Word count: 1.9K

Prison changed Spencer Reid, plain and simple. This is not the man you came to love. He was cruel, possessive, completely and utterly damaged. You hoped that prison wouldn't taint Spencer too much, you hoped that he would continue to be sweet little Dr. Spencer Reid. But you knew what prison could do to a person, for you locked people up daily. You knew that the system would take Spencer's old soul and soft heart into its muddy hands, squeezing them until they became one. Although sometimes in the right lighting, in the right moment, you can see a hint of Spencer in his light brown eyes.

You can't say that you hated the change in Spencer, obviously there was much work to be done before Spencer could truly be himself again. However, you could live with this change. He was hungry, feeling as though your body was the only thing that could fill that hunger. It was extremely attractive to you, his sudden hunger for you. Spencer was always using you, using your body or your mouth or your hands... just you. There was always an excuse for him to be inside of you in his mind. A man thought of looking at you? He bent you over the kitchen table. You wore a shirt that showed a bit of your chest? He dragged you into the bathroom and forced you onto your knees. You smiled at him? He would shove his face between your thighs until you couldn't even see straight.

Even on the way back home after he had gotten out of prison, he bent you over the backseat on the side of the road and fucked you roughly. It felt like you were stepping on eggshells every time around him because you never know what can set him off... it was oddly scandalous, almost arousing as the thought of how he'd fuck you next was always on your mind. A big plus was that spencer dug himself into your brain, pulling out your deepest and darkest kinks, and using them to give you earth-shattering, mind-blowing, life-changing orgasms. Now you don't think you two could ever go back to just plain sex. He had ruined you, ruined your body so much that only the thought of being hurt could get you off now.

"Fucking bitch..." Spencer spat out, his hand spreading your legs further open as his cock drilled into your soaked cunt. "That bitch looked at me like I was fucking stupid..."

His words came out breathy and jagged as he fucked into you at an animalistic pace. Spencer came home today upset, his tie being ripped off and thrown down as soon as he got into the door. You knew something was up by this action, but also the look on his face. He seemed to have a frown sewn onto his face, something that he wore most days. You asked what was wrong but you were met with him ripping off your clothes, hinting that he didn't want to talk but to fuck his frustrations into you. Now here you were, panties ripped off, legs wide open, Spencer deep inside you with his hand placed on your neck.

You couldn't tell how many times you came just in this position alone, you couldn't keep count. His hand gripped your through, affecting the way your brain functioned. You felt with every thrust of Spencer's hips you would lose brain cells... creating the dumb cock whore that Spencer ached to achieve. Spencer's hand applied more pressure to your throat as he thought of what happened at work, how while section chief Erin Strauss critiqued his work, people were being murdered.

"As if my 187 IQ wasn't enough for her." He started, his hand on your thigh being slammed down past your face and into the wooden table he was drilling you into. " I mean, I've been at this place for over 10 years... I know what I'm fucking doing"

You came again, not able to keep yourself from unraveling now. His hand on your throat was constricting your moans, completely silencing them as the only thing that could come out of your mouth was soft gurgles. You loved this feeling, knowing that at any moment if you didn't like it you could alert Spencer and he'd stop immediately. I guess you could say that Spencer's care for you never disappeared after prison, he would go on to say that it strengthened his love for you. He had this picture of you that you had sent him in one of your many letters, he kept it with him everywhere he went for it was the only thing that kept him sane.

One time a fellow inmate saw it, snatched it from him, and digested every single inch of you. He went on to explain the disgusting things he would do to you if he got the chance, that is exactly why Spencer came home to fuck you nice and good every night. Because if he wasn't the one to do it, he knew that other people would take you for granted, they would spend only minutes with you... ignoring what you needed and taking what they wanted. You would feel incomplete, unsatisfied, and completely in denial that love existed. You would assume love was only made for books and movies, that no one could show you the love you deserved. This is the love you deserve. You deserve a love that could have you coming undone over and over again, a harsh and mean kind of love but that always ended with soft kisses and a nice hot bath. A love that was sour at first but ended sweet, making sure that the words "i love you" were carved onto your skin.

"You wouldn't do that would you?" He whispered into your ear, his grip on your throat as he waited for your response. " You don't think I'm stupid ...hmm?"

His cock was too deep inside you, it was deep enough to have you going cross-eyed and unable to speak. Your moans became audible now, no longer being stuck in your throat due to his pressure being released. His pace was still inhumanly fast, not stopping even for a second. The table had started to shit forward, being scrapped across the floor and probably worrying the downstairs neighbors. You were on the verge of cumming again, your mind not even able to comprehend his question until you felt a harsh sting on your cheek. Spencer had slapped you across the face, growing impatient while waiting for your answer.

"Answer me...." He hissed out, leaning down and taking his lips to yours. He bit down on your lip, creating a pain that shot through your body. "Or I'm going to make you cum over and over and over again until you can't think of anything else besides my cock deep inside your tight little pussy..."

You could taste blood now, your lip bleeding and seeping into your mouth. His words created this deep, rough knot in your stomach. It wasn't like the rest of the orgasms you had tonight, no it was more intense. It hurt, painful with every thrust of his cock. It created a deep pain and pleasure dynamic in your body but felt like something was trying to claw itself out of your body.

"Fuck..." You screamed out, grabbing onto him and digging your fingernails into his back. "No I wouldn't! Fuck... I wouldn't! I won't!"

You finally replied, hoping with those words he would deepen his thrust if that was even possible. Spencer just grinned down at you, placing his head in between your shoulder blade and your neck. He set soft kisses to the skin, his warm lips against your burning skin. Spencer was close, your words pushing him further to the edge. The feeling inside your stomach didn't stop or dull, it only got worse. You were screaming now, Spencer's hand lingering on your neck but sitting gently on your skin. Spencer picked up his speed, the table scraping against the floor even harder.

You couldn't handle it, everything around you becoming so far away yet being so close. The feeling got to a point of feeling terrifyingly painful but also so potent of pleasure and so bewitching that you didn't want it to end now. A couple more of Spencer's deep and harsh thrusts sent you over the edge, the painful knot in your stomach snapping and shooting liquid out of your body. It was the first time you had ever squirted, the feeling so glorious that you wished it would happen every time. Your vision went out, only seeing light and hearing Spencer's soft moans as he finished inside of you. The world felt like it ended, nothing to be seen or to be experienced... just emptiness but complete fullness all at the same time.

"Good girl..." You heard Spencer's words echo through your now-empty mind. You couldn't tell if your eyes were closed or not. "You did so good for me honey... I'm so proud of you."

Those single words were all you needed to hear as you floated back to earth and into your body, you blinked a couple times... forgetting where and who you were for a split second. You came back to see Spencer brushing your hair back from your sweaty face, his face inches from yours as his face filled with concern that maybe he had broken you finally.

"There she is..." He chuckled softly, kissing your lips softly. " There's my girl..."

You gave him a weak smile, raise your hand to rest on his cheek. You rubbed it softly, feeling the growing stubble on his face. He was just as sweaty as you, his body hot to the touch. You two probably looked insane, one of you barely able to walk looking beat the hell up and the other one scratched up and drenched with liquids. Spencer gently slid himself out of you, watching you wince softly as it felt like he was connected to you at this point.

"Sorry..." He whispered, taking your hand in his as he rubbed your thigh gently "I was too rough huh?"

Rough was not even close to what Spencer was. He was brutal, sadistic, barbaric but you couldn't deny that you would choose it over compassion any day. You began to think that maybe prison was the best thing that could've happened to Spencer Reid, not only was he a genius but he now had a powerful glow to him. Shy kisses and longing gazes were a thing of the past for you two, Spencer knew what he wanted and he was going to get it.

"You were just rough enough..." I chuckled, feeling nothing but content and at peace in this moment.

Spencer laughed with you, pecking your lips one last time before pulling away from you. He looked around, his eyes landing on the couch. He smiled, walking over and leaving you but only for a second. He came back with a blanket, wrapping it around you then picking you up bridal style. You thanked him silently because you knew there was no way you were getting off the table without some kind of help.

"To the bath you go..." He joked, holding you close to him as he walked you to your shared bathroom. 

You looked into his eyes and at the right lighting, the right moment, you looked into his light brown eyes... realizing that this is Spencer Reid. This is Spencer Reid damaged, polluted, and bruised... but it was still the man you fell in love with all those years ago.

[feefivefoe]

I guess I'm unintentionally working my way up the age ladder, so Jason next-

This is the first part that contains backstory stuff I gave my reader, so unfortunately this is where a lot of the "they can be anyone" immersion dies, sorry y'all.

Genuinely, he thought he might hate you at first. Even at the preteen age of 12, where children were usually trying to start striving to independence, you had been so...bland.

It's not that you didn't stand out. Quite the contrary. Anywhere Alfred could be found, you were just a step or two behind him. A leech. Only ever speaking in a hushed voice, making the old man strain himself to hear you, surely.

He doesn't think you've ever even looked him in the eye.

It isn't until that summer he starts connecting the dots. You still cling to long sleeved shirts, pants over shorts, even when it's clear you're struggling to not overheat.

Then he catches you in the kitchen in the middle of the night, t-shirt and pajama shorts.

Burn marks, healed yet gruesome, decorate your arms and legs. Based on how they're positioned, he'd argue they probably exist on the rest of your body, too.

And yet, despite his invasion of what you clearly(?) wanted kept hidden, you merely bow your head in shame and offer a meek apology.

That's when he stops seeing you as a problem, but as a victim of consequence.

Not a bratty child who doesn't care enough about the lower class to speak to your new 'sibling,' but a lonely child who had never even once considered he might want to speak to you.

"Mister Wayne and Mister Grayson are very busy." You had said once, matter of factly rather than bitter or sad. "I'm sure they'd spend time with me if they weren't. But they have two lives, so they have less time than anybody."

He doesn't have the heart to tell you that they make time for him. And the rest of Gotham.

As you do with Alfred, you begin to shadow him. Meandering behind him without a care as to what his plans are, happy to receive the barest of acknowledgments.

You hesitate when speaking about yourself, as though taking up his time with mentions of you is an issue. He's starting to understand why.

Jason isn't sure if it's pity or growing affection that keeps him around, at first. For a while, he sees you as more of a sad, wet dog than as his family.

But you begin to connect with peers at school, finding validation outside of those that feel forced to give it to you. You mature, grow up more than you should, and realize the reality of your home life.

And Jason is thrilled! ...and...a little sad? He's happy for you, sure. Having friends is probably what you needed. People who want you around, genuinely. Who choose to make time for you.

But he'd be lying if he said that the way you used to stare at him didn't make him feel like a hero. Like he was doing so much, changing your world, simply by existing.

You still speak, of course. You're friendly siblings that get along well. You give him various foods you've tried making, courtesy of Alfred inspiring a desire to learn to cook and bake on your own. You talk about books you've read together, and listen intently while he rambles about his favorites.

You even peek in after particularly rough patrol nights, just to make sure he's gotten through it okay.

But it isn't...quite the same. No, but it's...it's for the best.

And he is still a hero! As Robin, he's protecting the whole city alongside Batman!

So he's still a hero.

He's still your hero.

"Jay? I was wondering if I could ask you for some help. The show my club is doing is one of those old books you like-"

"They aren't that old."

"-and my character doesn't show up much in the movie-"

"You watched the MOVIE before reading the book!?"

"-so I wanted to ask if you'd help me with characterization!"

He remembers groaning at you and rolling his eyes. "I'm busy tonight. Go watch the dumb, BAD, movie again." He pauses. "Uh, but I can tomorrow. I'll make sure I don't have anything planned, promise."

He saw you pause, and sees the constant same promises pass through you.

"I...have other arrangements. I'll make it up to you next time."

"Ah...sorry, kiddo! Big kid stuff. But next time! You trust your big bro, yeah?"

But this is Jason. Jason doesn't lie to you.

Jason keeps his promises.

You smiled. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

...

Then he died.

[suni-writings]

Running out of time.

jude bellingham x fem!reader

When two people who didn't know how to love met at the perfect timing to ruin each other.

part 2 | part 3

wc: 2.3k

(content warning: angst, troubled relationships, situationship)

“I can't do this anymore.”

The words escaped her lips before even she could fully process them. It was almost a whisper — a sign of utter defeat, of how much she had struggled and how much she could not take another second of being with him. There was no amount of affection that could mend what the situation had done to her, no amount of luck that could change their fate and, most definitely, no amount of effort he could have shown at that moment that would make her change her mind. It was too late for anything.

If he had listened to her attempts of communication, if he did not dismiss her feelings, if he took her more seriously… A series of ifs that only involved things he could have done.

She had tried to stay with him as long as she could, even if she felt, from the start, that she was doomed from the second her heart beat a little faster at the thought of him. After all, who would hate themselves enough to fall for Jude Bellingham, knowing his reputation, knowing the amount of women he had around on their knees, knowing him?

She thought she knew him, she really did. At least, better than others. They had met at a strange moment in their lives, where a relationship would never fit. That was never what they wanted.

Jude had recently gotten out of a relationship, whereas she was avoiding any sort of relationship for more than a year. Each one had their motivations, and one thing was clear: no relationship was a rule.

So, she didn’t mean to when she realized she was falling for him. In fact, it was nerve-wrecking — constantly beating herself up and trying to smack some sense into her own head; anything that would bring her back to reality. And like that, without knowing her feelings were reciprocated, she created a distance between them, leaving room only for her anxiety.

As her sorrow eyes met his desperate ones, she remembered. Flashes of how they ended up like that flooding into her head without her permission.

“So,” Jude said once. They were at her place — something they used to do quite often. He didn’t like bringing attention to himself and he wasn’t one to take any woman to his place, considering how the press could be if someone saw.

She didn’t know much about Jude. All she knew was that he was a good kisser, a nice company and someone that would provide her aftercare. She couldn’t ask for much more than that.

But one thing she did know — he was confident. Not that she wasn’t, but he was cocky. And, judging by the way he nervously held his thumb, she knew something wasn’t right.

“So?” She asked, tilting her head, looking at him gently.

“I—” he gulped and let out a nervous chuckle. “Look, don’t get me wrong. I know we said it was only a casual thing, but I’ve always been a man that liked, you know, talking to more than one woman.”

She nodded, furrowing her eyebrows, trying to predict what he was going to say. 

“What I want to say is—” he took a deep breath. “I don’t feel like talking to any other woman but you. I haven’t, actually, since this whole arrangement started. I know it’s only been a month, but—”

She laughed and he raised her eyebrows. She held his hand with an affection she hadn’t shown yet.

“Jude, it’s okay. I haven’t been with anyone else or even did as much as looking at anyone else ever since I’ve been with you,” she reassured him.

“Thank God.” He sighed happily, relieved.

The first and only rule was already broken.

“I can’t do this, you know. Can’t have a relationship. It’s not your fault, I just can’t do this sort of commitment at this point of my life.” Jude said while looking at her. She didn’t know where that came from.

They were peacefully taking a walk on a park close to her place. The cold breeze and the way his words somehow felt like a dagger made her shiver and cross her arms, not looking at him.

“I’ve never—” she tried to say. “We were never—”

What could she say? That they were nothing? That wasn’t the truth.

“I’ve never asked a relationship from you. I don’t even— want a relationship. We had talked about that since the beginning,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows. Did she do something that made him think otherwise?

“Let’s be honest with each other for a second.” He said and stopped her, turning her around to look at him  “This whole thing is running out of our control. I can’t do this. There’s no way I can have a serious relationship, one with actual commitment. I need to stop this before it gets to a point that I’ll hurt you.”

She swallowed. Despite her best efforts to hide how that hurt, maybe she was giving it away.

She didn’t want a relationship. They were in the same page.

But she was never the one to insist. Never the one to run after someone. In fact, her entire life, all she did was running away.

That’s all she knew how to do.

So, she just accepted it.

She sighed when she heard the knock on her door, her face twisted with annoyance. For some reason, Jude decided he wanted to see her and asked her to dress up nicely — something he knew she always did, but maybe he just wanted her to create some expectation and, perhaps, not dislike him as much as she was disliking him at that moment.

When she opened the door, he was standing there with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and in a perfect tuxedo. She would’ve sighed, if it wasn’t for the last conversation they had.

“You think you can buy me flowers and what? Problem solved?” She asked, not bothering to hide how much his presence maddened her.

“No. I know you better than that,” Jude said carefully, knowing he had to think well before speaking if he wanted to still be in her life. “But I can still buy you flowers, right? I know you like peonies. And I also like to think that’s a decent way to greet a woman you’d like to take on a date.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“On a date?” She asked in disbelief. “I thought dates were too couple-ish for you.” She mocked him.

He sighed deeply.

“I was wrong, alright?” He said and run a hand through his hair. “Well, not that wrong. The situation is getting out of hand and we’re breaking every rule we made up, but you’re right, this isn’t like I’m dating you. Still, I’d love to have you on my life and for things to be… the way they were before I fucked up.”

She sighed, crossing her arms.

“My ex showed up that day and I just got nervous; I think.” He looked down. “I had never liked someone this fast, you know? I don’t know how it happened to us. But when she showed up, everything I was afraid of suddenly came back and I just— almost ruined us. Whatever this is.” He looked at her. “But you're not her, and I like you so, so fucking much. Can I, please, have the honor of a second chance?”

“It’s the only one you’re having.” She said as she grabbed the bouquet. “Nice choice of flowers.”

He opened the sweetest, most genuine smile.

“Things are so much easier when I’m with you. I wish it was always like this. That I could take you everywhere,” Jude said.

They were stargazing in her backyard, laying on the soft grass. His head was on her chest as she caressed his hair. They didn’t need to look at each other and he didn’t need to see her eyes to know how she felt — he could hear her heartbeat. It was more than enough.

He was going through a rough patch; she knew that much. And she didn’t know how to fix it, how to help him — it was out of her reach to do such a thing and he would hate if she even tried. His pride always took a tool on him, used to suffering in silence.

“I know.” She sighed softly. “I like being with you, if that helps. You’re my favorite person to talk to.”

“I hope I am,” he chuckled softly. “That’s why we’re sort of together, right?”

“Right,” she nodded. Things seemed so easier and intimate when they were like that. She felt his soft locks against her fingers and sighed once again. “But only sort of together.” She teased him.

“You’re annoying,” he joked.

“Touché.”

“Why are you so mad at me?!” Bellingham exclaimed, trying to run after her as she made her way out of the nightclub. He tried to reach for her arm and called out her name. “Stop, please.”

She stopped. Why was she still agreeing with anything he told her to do, anyway? Even when she couldn’t think straight, even when she was tipsy from all the alcohol she had consumed. Since when he became such a strong influence in her life that she would just submit to what he said? Why didn’t she leave?

Why didn’t she run away?

She was so good at that.

“I just—” She looked up, trying to find a way to put her words together and make it make sense. “I hate seeing you surrounded by so many women. And it’s so clear how much you enjoy the attention.”

“I don’t—”

“You literally left me standing to go talk to whoever that woman was.”

“You’re exaggerating and you don’t want to listen to me. Why don’t you just breathe for one second?” He asked her. “Look, I might enjoy the attention, but I wouldn’t leave you standing anywhere. I told you, when this whole thing started, that you’d never have to worry about me hitting on someone in front of you.”

And, to her, it felt like they had taken every step back. He didn’t mean for his words to come out like that, really. He knew what she had gone through in her relationships and how much anxiety she could feel from liking someone. He wanted to reassure her and was managing to do the opposite.

“Yeah, the same way we told each other this would be nothing serious,” she scoffed. “And it really seemed like you were flirting with her. How come when it’s with me, I have to chill and take a deep breathe, but when you’re feeling like that, I have to keep explaining myself?”

He opened up his mouth, but no words left. She knew he’d say she was making a fuss over nothing.

“Good night, Bellingham,” she said before leaving the club, not bothering to look back.

That same day, thousands of pictures of him in the club came out. He wasn’t doing anything, but her heart broke a little bit more from how many women surrounded him.

He didn’t bother to explain.

In fact, he had ignored her for two weeks.

That’s how they ended up here.

“You’re joking, right?” Jude asked, though he knew her enough to know if she was bluffing or not. “I just told you all my problems and— that I need a break from us. I need to focus on other aspects of my life, I can’t afford the luxury of having space for anything romantic.”

She laughed dryly.

“And what am I supposed to do, huh? Shove my feelings right up my ass just because you want me to wait for you? Or even worse, be your friend?” She didn’t mean to sound that aggressive, but the two weeks of no contact were more than enough for her anxiety to overcome every good memory they had and replace them with thoughts that he didn’t even really care.

“I’m not asking to be your friend! Jesus, you’re so complicated!” Jude exclaimed.

“I'm not complicated!” She argued back. “I’m just tired of having to put your feelings on top of mine, of prioritizing you instead of myself. I know where this ends and I won’t submit myself to this. Not to this, not to you, not with you.”

“Please,” he sounded desperate. Pathetically desperate. He held her arm. “Don’t do this to me. Wait for me. I will come back, I swear to God.”

“And put my life on hold because you want me to?” She asked, looking up at him, showing how hurt she was by the whole situation.

“What if I’m losing the love of my life over something I cannot control?” He asked her in a whisper, his brown eyes meeting hers.

It was his last attempt, that was for sure. But he forgot just how good she was at walking away. Maybe it was her fault for always finding some excuse for his attitudes or even for forgiving him, in first place. Maybe she should've walked away when she realized she was catching feelings. Maybe she shouldn’t have allowed him a second chance.

A series of maybes that only involved things she could have done.

But one thing was for sure: she wasn’t going to break herself over anyone ever again. Despite how much she liked him, despite the part of her that was willing to wait — she had been through too much to do that to herself again. She didn’t know if it was worth it, not anymore.

“I’m not the love of your life, Jude.” She said and did what she was the best at: walking away.

[intoxicated-chan]

Hi! Can you make yandere head canons for miguel o'hara? I'm curious what kind of yandere he will be ;-;

Yandere!Miguel O’Hara Hcs

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ What it’s like having Miguel as a Yandere, welcome to the life.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Reminder! This is DARK CONTENT!! Thank you for the request! I may have gotten carried away with it… I also feel like this is more of a little fic than hcs, I’m sorry if it appears that way!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, DARK CONTENT, stalking, toxic relationship, controlling, death, blood, power imbalance, tracking, baby trapping…

Dark content under the cut. MDNI 18+

If you are an employee at his business, Miguel can be/is controlling and delusional.

Controlling people is easy for him, he owns a business, and quite a large one.

So, in the beginning, of course he’s in denial. But he wasn’t going to deny the affection you gave him. You just offered him a drink. He wasn’t going to deny your attention. He collapsed before a meeting.

Because of this, you became more affectionate. In reality, you were just worried about Miguel, you couldn’t sleep at night unless you knew he was taking care of himself, which is why Miguel issued you a watch. Lyla was built into i2t and it gave you access to Miguel whenever.

What you clearly didn’t know was that there was a tracker built into it, and Lyla kept tabs on you as well, per Miguel’s request.

It was all harmless, he just needed to know where you were 24/7. The location of your apartment, friends’ houses, favorite shops or cafes. Everything about you.

But one day, randomly, he thought back to the people he lost. He worked so hard for you, he couldn’t dare lose you.

Slowly, Miguel confined you to work at home. Then came the random visits so he could check up on you, but he was getting a good look at your apartment. Which room is what? Where’s the bathroom? First-aid… Things like that.

Then comes the stalking. The man has all the connections he needs to get what he wants. It’s easy for him to have people watch you, and if they aren’t good enough, then he’ll have to do it himself.

Which is why Spider-Man is always coming around when you’re in trouble, almost like he knows what’s going to happen. You didn’t find it strange, he’s Spider-Man. He should be everywhere and keep everyone safe.

It’s all harmless, it’s not like he’s purposely leading bad guys to you so he can save you, having you believe Spider-Man will always be there for you. Which is an ego boost for him, a very big one.

But your day became hell when Miguel promoted you to his personal assistant. It was from then on that he stayed in his office almost the entire day and you were there with him, running files, altering him of meetings, you had to keep him organized and on schedule. With his stubbornness, it was impossible.

It was like he was purposely giving you the wrong papers which made you look like a fool in front of everyone. Which ruined your reputation within the business. A once proudful, one time, and perfect employee is now screwing up simple numbers.

Which then leads you to talk about it with Miguel, he became your support system.

But being your shoulder to cry on wasn’t enough for him. But having you by his side, tabs on you, knowing your location… It will settle the dust, but not for long.

He’s going to start craving for more and more,

When you get into a relationship with him, he can become violent. But not directly at you, he’ll be punching walls, throwing objects as a way of controlling.

Making you second guess your choices of words. He’s jealous and highly possessive, manipulative and overly affectionate.

There will be days where he’d ignore you then a few hours later, he comes in with your favorite flowers and all doting on you.

“You must understand why I am hard on you, because everything I do, I do it for you.”

He wants you to know that you’re the only one who’s perfect for him and the other way around. So when an insect comes crawling into your life and putting thoughts into your minds, he has no other choice but to get his hands bloody.

He prefers slow and painful rather than quick and harmless. He wants the insect to know the pain of how hard it was to convince you that they were wrong. He might keep torturing them for a couple days before he’s done with them.

Whether it be a stranger, acquaintance, sibling(s), best friend, or parent(s)… Doesn’t matter who they are, they have no right to voice their opinions because his relationship with you is golden, perfect.

Even more when he finds the discarded pregnancy test, all his hard work and he’s finally getting rewarded. A dream he wished for, a family he desired for.

He finally has you where he wants you to be. Alone, scared, and confused. You swear that you were taking your birth control. He switched it out. Even with a plan B he gave. It wasn’t a plan B.

He has you scared, worrying about how you were going to take care of a baby without him, but of course, here comes his facade. He’s comforting you, letting you know that he’s happy with the result, and he knows that you didn’t mean to trap him. He trapped you.

He’s got his wish, and he ain’t letting that go.

Everything is supposed to be.

Yet there always has to be something screwing up his plans.

Even if you do run away and think that there’s no way for him to find you, he’s already at the hotel. Did you forget? How could you?

Like before, Miguel has connections and not only that, he’s Spider-Man. He’s going to convince you that it’s best to return because the baby needs both parents, no matter how shitty the relationship the parents have with each other.

What else should you do? Get married! Better now than later. Invite friends and family, who aren’t dead yet, to come join you and your husband on your happiest day of your life.

Locked down to a man who controls every aspect of your life. A man who will kill anyone who dares to say otherwise because they have no brain, until like him.

He knows what’s best for you, no matter what anyone else says.

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[tropes-and-tales]

First Time for Everything

(Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

CW:  Angst (friends-with-benefits; idiots in love; talk of bad past relationships; injuries); smut (vague references to sex; oral sex gone awry); 18+ only.

Word Count: 5591

AN:  This was requested by an anonymous person!

AN2: Usual caveat - not edited in any way. Likely grammar bugaboos, tense switches, etc.

Bob Floyd would have never thought he’d end up in a friends-with-benefits situation, but there’s a first time for everything.

You’re the one who drives the entire enterprise.  A civilian who works at Top Gun, you’re no stranger to the stress of dealing with a multi-billion-dollar fleet of planes.  You serve as a liaison between the Navy and the bevy of contractors who build and maintain the planes, and if Bob has to juggle a million complicated systems mid-flight, you have to juggle a million tricky relationships and contracts on the ground.

You put the question to him, late one night at the Hard Deck.  Harvard and Yale had been leading a spirited conversation about dry spells, long distant relationships, juggling hook-ups.  You and Bob sat there, listening but adding little.  But after the other Daggers started to peel away one by one, you had turned to Bob and started asking about his love life.

“Non-existent,” he had replied with a sad shake of his head.

“Same.”

There was a beat of silence—you sipped at your drink; Bob cracked another peanut.

“Any prospects?” you asked.

Another shake of his head.

“Yeah, same here,” you replied.

Then there was another long stretch of silence, but this time you fixed Bob with a curious look.  It lasted long enough for him to notice, for him to squirm in his seat—

“So, I have an idea, and you’re totally free to say ‘no,’” you started, and the rest was history.

-----

That was months ago.  Bob has gotten to know you much better since then.

Much, much better.

He knows what you feel like.  He knows what you taste like.  He knows the place on your neck that makes you keen when he puts his mouth to it.  He knows exactly where to press the tips of his fingers when they are inside you, where to find the spot that makes your pussy pulse with arousal, that makes your breathing stutter and your eyes roll back, that makes you moan out his name—

He knows how it sounds when you moan his name, and he knows how that affects him in turn, and he knows that he doesn’t know nearly enough about you.

He doesn’t know what you eat for breakfast or how you take your coffee or if you even drink coffee at all.  He doesn’t know much about your family, little about your childhood, only a bit about your wants and likes and dislikes.

Because of the rules you laid out that night at the Hard Deck.

Hooking up, friends-with-benefits, you had explained, requires clear lines be drawn.  Otherwise, it gets messy.  Feelings develop.  Misunderstandings happen.  People get hurt, sometimes badly.

Your rules keep those lines clearly drawn.  No spending the night.  No dates beyond sex—no lunch dates or movie nights, no days at the beach together.  You call each other and make plans to fuck, and then you part, and that keeps it neat.  Clean.

There’s no way you can know it, because you don’t really know Bob either, but there’s no rule on earth you could put in place that would keep him from falling for you anyway.  You work with numbers and contracts all day, so you believe in the power of words, in rules. 

You don’t know that Bob Floyd doesn’t require much to fall in love with you.  That the paltry moments between physical encounters is plenty for love to flourish for him.  That the handful of soft touches, the smiles, the little laughs…they are enough.  The way you pat his cheek after you brush a chaste kiss there once you’re dressed and about to leave his place.  The time you slid his glasses on his face, then kissed the tip of his nose.

Which is why your rules turn out to be so important after all:  because here he is, hopelessly, painfully in love while you only see him a safe place to release your sexual frustrations.  He cannot imagine how much worse it would hurt if those lines didn’t exist.

*****

You have a chronic issue with men.

You pick the worst possible boyfriends.  From high school until now, you seem to only attract cheaters, losers, and general assholes.  Numerous boyfriends cheated on you.  One stole your car.  One stole your prescription sleeping pills and got arrested trying to sell them. 

It’s not that you’re attracted to assholes, really.  The whole bad-boy schtick bores you.  It’s more that you like to fix things; you like to turn chaos into order.  That trait serves you well at work, untangling all the intricate contracts and orders and rules between the Navy and their contractors. 

That trait serves you less well in love, because people often can’t be fixed, at least not without wanting to be fixed.  And anyway, the guys you date need deep fucking therapy, not a girlfriend with a fetish for setting order to the universe.

(A therapist once posited that you’re this way because of your own childhood:  the only child of two career Army parents.  Your chaotic formative years—bouncing around the world, unable to set roots, sometimes even shifted from one parent to another due to conflicting deployments—left you with a wound, your therapist suggested.  Disliking having a mirror held up to yourself, you just ghosted said therapist and never dug into that part of your internal makeup again).

But the therapist did make you aware of your bad patterns with men, so you swear off relationships, which is easy enough. 

You still have needs, though.

You canvass the Hard Deck for a month.  Take in all the fly boys and consider the fly girls too.  Profile them, watched how they acted when they think no one is watching.  Watch them sober, watch them drunk.  Watch to see which ones are handsy in an unwelcome way, and which ones remain respectful.

It’s Bob Floyd who catches your eye.

Not the sort of man you’d go for, usually.  Quiet, reserved.  Hardly ever drinks but gets in on the sing-alongs.  Plays pool when someone needs an opponent.  Is often the designated driver, and you smile when you see his bemused frustration when he steers a fellow Dagger, drunk and stumbling, out the door and safely home.  He’s so stable and pulled-together.  You bet he’s never cheated on a girl or stolen her car.  Not your type at all.

He’s good-looking though, in a quiet way.  Ditch the shitty Navy-issued glasses, muss up his hair a little, and he’d be downright handsome. 

Not the sort of man you’d go for, usually, but you aren’t looking for a boyfriend or a future husband.  You just need a zero risk, reliable guy to get off with.  It seems like a long shot because Bob is so quiet, but when you put the idea to him, he blinks…then asks you to clarify.

Then he agrees.

-----

That was months ago.

The arrangement works.  It’s exactly what you were looking for.  Bob Floyd is exactly what you thought he was:  reliable, steady.  He’s no broken man-child; he’s quiet but that belies a secure sort of masculinity that you’ve never really experienced before.  He knows who he is and what he wants, and he isn’t swayed by anything.  He’s solid.

He’s also surprising, in some ways.

To be crude about it, in looking for a friend-with-benefits, you needed only two things in a man:  a clean bill of health and a hard dick.  Bob is able to provide both (he hands you his test results from his latest physical, neatly folded in an envelope the first night you meet up).

He is also able to provide more than that.  The first night is a little awkward, but only because you are near-strangers.

The second encounter is better.

The third encounter is…wonderful.  It’s like Bob was homing in on you, treating you like one of his weapon systems.  Calibrating you.  Figuring out what you like and doing more of that, seeing what you don’t respond to and never doing it again.  Which makes it sound cold, how he figures you out, but Bob is so damned warm.  Warm and sweet and considerate, and he grins at you and laughs with you, and it’d be so easy to fall for him—

It's been months, but for fucks sake, you’re falling for him.  It’s embarrassing, because you gave him this tough-girl speech about rules and lines and not catching feelings, and he had nodded seriously and said he understood…and now here you are, the idiot who is catching feelings, who is realizing that maybe your type of man was wrong all along, that maybe who you needed was a reliable, steady man with warmth and blue eyes that swim a bit behind the lens of his thick glasses.

*****

It’s been months, and Bob always worries that this arrangement will end. 

One of your rules had been that the arrangement stops the moment one of you find someone else, and Bob always worries that someone else will catch your eye.  That you’ll find some man—you are surrounded by handsome, capable men every day, for heaven’s sake—that you find an appealing prospect.  Someone you want to sleep with and be with.

Someone better than him.

He’s usually so secure in himself, but he has a small crisis of confidence.  He wonders what he lacks—what makes him a good hook-up but not a good boyfriend?  If he could just show you…if he could take you out on a proper date.  Buy you flowers, buy you dinner, take you for a moonlit stroll along the beach.  If he could cook for you, show you that he’s not that useless breed of man who can’t or won’t do homey tasks.  If he could take care of you when you’re sick, be a sounding board when you rage…

Bob decides to do what he can, which is to just be the best lover he can be.  To be the most considerate, most adventuresome, most giving man you’ve ever taken to bed.  It’s all he can do anyway, so he might as well give it his best.

-----

Bob usually lets you lead.  He lets you set the schedule, and for every five times you call to hook-up, he calls once. 

The arrangement, such as it is, does work for him.  For all the angst of his unrequited love for you, the hooking up does relax him.  It helps him burn off extra energy, which helps him focus at work.

It also helps him explore things he has never tried before.

With you, Bob has played around with role play:  tame scenarios where he gets to pretend that he’s a different person than he is.  He has tried a variety of positions that have tested him in both strength and flexibility.  If there’s a list of sexual acts, Bob feels like he’s steadily working through it with you.

There’s still one, though…

It’s Fritz who starts the conversation at the Hard Deck.  You’re not there, but the guys all are, and the conversation drifts towards the usual locker room talk.  Fritz kicks it off by talking about his latest girl.  The guys egg him on for details.  Bob grins around the rim of his glass, says little, but then Fritz says, “man, when she sits on my face and smothers me in that pussy, I could die happy.”

It never occurred to Bob before, but he adds it to his list of sexual acts:  have you sit on his face and smother him with your pussy.

The idea takes hold so fiercely that Bob has to shift in his seat, suddenly warm at the thought of you sitting on him, his mouth on you.  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, and he’s sending you a text before he even has a beat to rethink it.

Want to meet up tonight?

You reply within a minute.

Sure.  Mine or yours?

Bob pauses and considers.  He catches Rooster’s eye and tilts his head at him, gesturing to his roommate for a sidebar.  Rooster comes over and stands beside Bob.

“What’s up?” Rooster asks.

“What are your plans for tonight?”

Rooster grins at the question.  It’s not exactly a secret that you and Bob are hooking up, though you don’t publicize it either.  Bob doesn’t know that his fellow Daggers have a betting pool about how the situation with you will resolve.  He’s caught the sly grins between them sometimes and wondered at what they mean.

“You asking if the apartment will be empty?” Rooster asks.  “Hell, Baby on Board.  Keep it to your room.  I don’t care what happens in the privacy of your own room.”

Bob can’t help the blush that heats his face.  He shouldn’t be embarrassed, but sometime the two of you get lost in the moment, and more than once, Rooster has sidled up to Bob the day after and clapped him on the back, congratulated him on his prowess—

Rooster catches the man’s discomfort and elbows him in the side.  “I was planning on finding myself some companionship for the night,” he finally says.  “The place is all yours.”

Bob thanks him, then texts you. 

My place?

Another beat before your answer comes.  When?

Now.

*****

Bob generally lets you set the tone of your arrangement, but sometimes he has a moment of dominance that makes a wave of desire wash through you so strongly that your knees actually go weak.

Like his text.  No softening his final message, just a simple, single word that holds a universe of promise.

Now.

“Yes, sir,” you murmur.  You only take a minute to brush your teeth and slip into nicer lingerie, but then you get in your car and head over to his place.

He must have been waiting at the window, watching for you.  You aren’t even halfway up the steps to his porch when the door swings open, and there he is. 

Of course it was easy to catch feelings for him.  He’s perfect, and right now he’s staring at you like he wants to eat you alive.

-----

“Explain it…again,” you manage to get out between kisses.  “How does…it work?”

Bob raises himself, props himself on his forearms on either side of your head.  His hair is mussed (perfect), and his glasses are on the bedside stand, so his blue eyes peer down at you. 

“You sit on my face,” he replies simply.

You huff out a breath.  “Sure, but….like, how?  I weigh a lot—”

He shakes his head.  “Not a problem for me, honey.”

“But I could hurt you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I could kill you.” 

He laughs, and he shifts his weight onto one arm so the other is free to reach down and grasp your waist.  “If you kill me like that, I want how I died mentioned in my obituary, okay?”

“Not funny!”  You poke him in the side, and he laughs again.

“Seriously, Bob.  I don’t want to hurt you,” you continue.

“You won’t.  I promise.  It’ll be fine.  But I want to do this.”  His smile fades, and he fixes you with a darker look that sends a bolt of lust right through your core.  “Please.”

-----

The two of you, once you got over your initial awkwardness, usually move so well together.  Perfectly coordinated, in sync. 

This…is not that.

For the first time, the two of you aren’t working together.  Bob can’t know it, but it’s not just a physical misalignment—there are hidden feelings at play.  As you tentatively hover over where he lays on the bed, you feel suddenly exposed, like Bob might be able to see the feelings you’ve caught for him.  It’s so intimate, you think, being so bared to him.  You hold yourself back, shy, and Bob doesn’t understand the sudden reticence in you.  He chalks it up to fear of hurting him.

And you can’t know it, but Bob absolutely loves how intimate it is, being so exposed to him.  There are hidden feelings on his side too—how hard it hits him, that he’s never done this with another woman before, and how he cannot imagine doing it with another one after you.  He’s ravenous for you, wants to possess you in every way he can, but when he tries to tug you closer to him, you chalk it up to general horniness and nothing more.

It is all misunderstanding, in the end.  You hold yourself back, hover over his face.  He grips your hips, tries to pull you to him.  The two of you struggle against the other, not understanding what is really driving the other—

“Come on,” he growls.  “Give it to me, honey.”

“Bob, I don’t—”

“I can take it.”

“But I—”

It happens in a split second.  Bob tugs you down against him in the exact moment you try to get a better balance over him, and the force of his pulling you down is added to the full weight of you shifting, with a bit of gravity, and you hit Bob so hard.

There’s a sickening crack, like a chicken bone snapping.  You look down at him, startled, and see his blue eyes widen in pain—shock—

You scramble off of him, call his name, but he doesn’t move, and then you see it.

Blood.  There’s so much blood, all over his face, and you yell his name now, but he still doesn’t move—

You’ve killed him.  You’ve murdered him, and you scream.  You reach for your phone and fumble it, and your body just acts.  You back away, your mind scrambling, and you think I need to stop the bleeding, so you think to go to the bathroom for a towel, but when you pivot quick on your heel and turn towards the closed door, it is already swinging inward, right at your face, hard, and there’s an explosion of pain behind your eyes.

Then everything goes dark, and you don’t wake until you’re in the ambulance.

*****

Bob wakes up to the paramedics sliding him onto the backboard, his head immobilized between two foam blocks.  Rooster hovers at the perimeter, a worried look on his face.

“What—” Bob manages to croak out, but the room grows dim again, and he fades in and out until the hospital.

-----

He comes to and stays awake in a quiet hospital room.  There’s the steady beep of a monitor somewhere behind and above him.  When he tries to turn his head, though, he finds himself held in place by a brace.

“You’re awake finally.”  The voice is familiar, and a moment later, Phoenix’s face swims into his peripherals. 

“You scared us, Baby on Board.”  Rooster, to the left of him.

“Who knew you had it in you?”  The voice at the foot of the bed, the hint of smarm.  Bob feels a hand on his ankle, jostling him lightly.  “You dirty fucking freak.”

“Shut up, Bagman.”  Phoenix glares at the cocky pilot, then turns back to Bob, her gaze softening.  “How are you feeling?”

He considers his answer.  He feels…rough. 

He also notices that his Dagger teammates are there, but you are not.  Which makes him feel worse.

Phoenix seems to read his thoughts.  Something in his expression must give him away, because she leans in closer and sets a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“She’s still downstairs,” she says, low near his ear.  “You got a room, but she’s still in the E.R.  They haven’t released her yet.”

“E.R.?”

She smiles, snorts out a light laugh.  “Yeah, the two of you are a real fucking vibe, Bob.”

Rooster steps closer to the bed and grins down at him.  “You’re lucky I struck out at the Hard Deck.  I come home, barely get my shoes off, when I hear a scream.  I go running back to your room just in time to knock your girl out.  She ran headfirst into the door when I opened it.”  He claps his hands together.  “Down like a bag of rocks.”

Bob’s heart rate picks up, and the monitor registers it.  Phoenix glances at the machine and snorts again.

“She’s fine,” she assures him.  “I’ve been bouncing between you and her.  It’s just slammed down there, so she’s been waiting for the doctor to release her.”

“She’s okay then?”

Phoenix nods.  “Dislocated nose.  Slight concussion.  Embarrassed.  Convinced she murdered you, until I set her straight.”

Bob smiles despite himself.  “She thought I was dead?”

“She knocked you out,” Hangman cuts in.  “And broke your nose.”

“You weren’t moving and there was blood everywhere,” Rooster adds.

“She also gave you grade two whiplash,” Phoenix continues.  “And it looks like you’ll be sporting a pair of gnarly black eyes by morning.”

“Wow.”  Bob breathes out a reedy whistle.  “And you’re sure she’s okay?”

Phoenix nods again.

Rooster and Hangman offer to go grab some coffee from the hospital cafeteria, leaving Bob and his partner alone.  Phoenix drags a chair over and settles closer to him, and Bob feels his mood sour little by little.

“Are you okay?” Phoenix finally asks. 

He lifts his hand, drops it back onto the bed.  “I guess it’s ruined now.”

“What is?”

“Our…arrangement.  Mine and hers.”

She tilts her head.  “How so?”

“She has all these rules.  To keep it clean.  To keep feelings out, you know?”  He lifts his hand again, drops it again—the best version of a shrug he can manage.  “I have to think that injuries requiring ambulances is an unwritten rule too.”

Phoenix stares at him, but a smile starts to creep across her face.  She shakes her head then, grips his shoulder again.

“Do you love her, Bobby?”  The question is asked softly, kindly.

Bob forgets the brace for a second and tries to nod.  “Yeah.”

“You ever tell her?”

“Against the rules.”

“You ever tell her you wanted to revisit the rules, then?”

“No.”

Her smile widens.  “You’re so fucking dumb, dude.”

*****

Hangman’s the one who stops to check in on you.  He has a paper cup of coffee in each hand, and he holds both up to you.

“Wasn’t sure what you liked.  One is black, one is cream and sugar.”

“Cream and sugar, please.”

He walks over to your bed and hands it to you, then studies you.  You know you must look like hell—your eyes red from the hysterical crying of thinking yourself a murderer.  Your nose—not broken, only dislocated—swollen and tender.  And the general misery of how badly everything has turned out.

“You like the little nerd, huh?”

You take a sip of the coffee and thank him for it. 

You don’t answer his question.

Hangman sighs, leans against the wall.  “It’s just that, if you do, I’d like to know.  I have a lot riding on it.”

“Huh?”

“There’s a pool about you and Baby on Board.”  He sips his own coffee, smiles at you.  “I want to know if I’m out money or if I have a payday coming.”

“You bet on us?”

He holds up a hand.  “Whoa.  All the Daggers bet on you.  It wasn’t just me.”

You shake your head.  “I don’t understand.”

“Some of us bet that you’d end up together.  Others bet that you wouldn’t.  Not that hard to understand.”

You try to take a steadying breath through your nose, which is an effort with how swollen it is.  You look away from him and fix your eyes on the open doorway of your room.  You watch the nurses and doctors scurry back and forth, the gurneys of hurt and sick people. 

“It doesn’t matter either way,” you finally answer.  “I nearly killed the guy.  Is there a pool on that?”

Hangman laughs, and he settles in the chair near your bed.  “You didn’t nearly kill him.  You only lightly injured him.  Then Bradley lightly injured you.  It’s hilarious.”

You can only wince at his word choice.  It’s not funny at all.  Miramar is a gossipy hive of rumor, and Bob’s injuries will put him out of commission for at least a while—

“Is this gonna hurt his career at Top Gun?” you ask Hangman.  You glance over at him and catch the way his expression softens at the angst in your voice.  “Did I just fuck up his life completely?”

He reaches out and grasps your hand for a moment, gives you a friendly squeeze before he releases you.  “Shit happens.  The Navy knows that.”

“Still…”

“If anything, Bob’s gonna have some light duty, but he can do some systems work on the ground.”  The smile reappears on his face, and he slyly adds, “and his cred just skyrocketed.”  A beat.  “The quietest Dagger just got his face rearranged by pussy.  He’ll never have to buy his own drink again as long as he lives.”

“Jesus,” you groan, and you cover your face with your hands while Hangman laughs, but a second later the doctor enters your room and tells you that you are being released.

Hangman doesn’t take the hint and leave.  He watches you sign off on your discharge papers, sips his coffee.  He hands you your shoes, and he helpfully holds out your coat so you can slide into it.

“That little nerd loves you, you know,” he says suddenly.  “It’s obvious as hell, which is why I laid a big bet on it.”

“He does?”  The surprise in your voice makes him chuckle, then shake his head.

“Probably hard to see it from where you’re sitting, but he does.  His dumb face lights up the minute he sees you, and when you aren’t around, he’s like a lost puppy.  So if you feel even an inkling of the same for him, just go upstairs and put him out of his misery, okay?”

It feels like grace you don’t deserve.  You hurt Bob, even if you hadn’t meant to, and for Hangman to offer this sliver of hope you don’t think you deserve—

You can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes.  Hangman doesn’t remark on them; he only stands by the doorway and waits for you.

“You’re a regular Cupid, Jake,” you offer.

“Nah.”  He finishes off his coffee, crumples the cup, and tosses it in the nearby trash can.  “I just want that fucking pool money.”

-----

The tears that threatened downstairs…they break free the moment you finally see him.

He looks awful.  He looks…well, he looks like he pulled the full weight of an adult woman onto his face, pussy-first.  His nose is swollen in a splint, he’s in a neck brace, and both eyes are so bruised that they can barely open beyond slits.

But his smile…

God, when he sees you, it’s just like Jake said:  his poor, mangled face lights up, and his smile is so wide it looks like it might hurt.  It hits you again, as it often does, how different he is from your usual type of man.  That he loves to see you, is happy when he sees you, even injured.  That he doesn’t need you around to fix his life, but he wants you around to just…be with you.  Bob is no one that needs fixing; he just wants you there with him.

Phoenix and Rooster have the good sense to leave, ushering Hangman along with them.  Bob, when he sees the tears coursing down your face, frowns and holds a hand out to you.

“I’m okay.  I’m okay.  It’s fine,” he repeats.  You make your way over to him and take his hand, and maybe it is okay.  He holds you tight, his big, warm palm enfolding yours—

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

You shake your head.  You’re not okay at all.  You don’t know if Jake was lying, but you can’t lie to Bob anymore just as you can’t lie to yourself.

“I broke one of the rules,” you admit.  You watch him, wary.  You have the sense of how he might react, but you can’t know for sure.  You just have to push through and say it.  Put it out there.

“I broke a rule too,” he replies.  He squeezes your hand.

“Yeah?”  It comes out shaky, unsure.

“Yeah.”

“Which rule?”

He lifts your hand to his mouth and brushes a gentle kiss to the back of it.  He’s so damned soft, and you blink against the fresh tears that threaten to spill over your face.

“It’s your own fault,” he grumbles, but he smiles when he says it.  “If you didn’t want me falling for you, you shouldn’t have been so easy to fall for.”

You laugh, a nervous sound that nudges up against the wall of tears you’re struggling to hold back.  “Even though I almost killed you?”

“I mean, you didn’t almost kill me, but you definitely owe me for all this.”  He gestures with his free hand at his face. 

“You could make a claim against my insurance, I guess—”

“Just a date,” he interrupts.  “I just want one date with you.”

“That’s it?”  The sick feeling in your stomach starts to recede, and it’s replaced by the fluttery feeling of promise, of something new and wonderful starting. 

“Just once chance to show you how good it could be.”  His expression is dead serious, and he squeezes your hand again.  “Me and you.  For real this time.”

“I, uh…”  You clear your throat and glance at his bright blue gaze, then look away.  You fix your eyes on where your hands are joined together.  Your hand fits perfectly in his.

“I’ve only ever dated assholes,” you admit.  Another glance at him to see how he takes in your words.  “Guys who don’t have their shit together.  It’s why I wanted the whole…arrangement with you.  I’ve never been with a man who didn’t need, like, intensive therapy.  Or the occasional law enforcement intervention.”

“First time for everything,” Bob replies mildly.

“What if…what if I don’t know how to be in a relationship unless…unless…”  You trail off, not sure how to say it without it sounding completely terrible…but then, the reality of your dating life has been completely terrible anyway.

“You afraid you don’t know how to be in a relationship unless you’re miserable?” he asks gently. 

“Maybe?”

“Hmm.”  He releases your hand but pats the space on his bed beside him.  “I don’t know if I’d be comfortable making you miserable, honey.”

You perch awkwardly on the sliver of bed available to you, but Bob reaches up and gets a hand on your shoulder, tugs you gently down towards him.  It’s careful maneuvering—a stark difference to what got you here—but you eventually get comfortable beside him, your cheek against his shoulder, your temple against the hard molded plastic of his brace.  His hand finds yours again, and he threads his fingers through yours.

“What if we started with that one date you owe me?” he offers.  “And then maybe a second date.  I’ll treat you the way you deserve to be treated, and you see how it feels to not be miserable.”

One date, maybe a second.

“I think I can handle that,” you reply.

“Then a third date, then another.”

You smile.  “Okay.”

“Maybe around, say, the fifth date, you can spend the night.  Let me make you pancakes in the morning.  Fresh-squeezed orange juice.”

“Okay.”

“Then after maybe a month, you could keep some stuff at my place.  Shampoo, extra clothes.  So you’re comfortable.”

“I could take you to my favorite taco place,” you offer.  “Over in Imperial County.”

“I’d like that.”  He shifts a little in the bed, then adds, “maybe around the six-month mark, you could meet my family.”

“Would they make me miserable?” you tease.

“Oh, they’d make your life a living hell,” he teases back.  “My dad would give you this whole disgusting speech about how he always wanted another daughter, my mom would drop hints about my grandma’s engagement ring being set aside for me—”

“They sound horrible,” you laugh. 

“The worst.”  He chuckles, and a long moment of silence stretches between you, but it’s comfortable.  His warm hand in yours, the quiet beeping of the machines monitoring him, the steady sound of his breathing…the slightly whistling quality of your own breathing through your swollen nose. 

“You know, I’ve never taken a girl home to meet my family before,” he says, and his voice is serious.  “Never even considered it before.”

You lift your head a bit to look at him, and you see the thoughtful quality of his expression.  You settle back against him.

“And you’re considering it with the girl who broke your neck, broke your nose, and shamed you in front of the United States Navy?”

He chuckles again.  “You didn’t break my neck and I’m not in trouble with the Navy,” he says.  “And yes, I’ve considered it.  First time for everything.”

He doesn’t add anything else, and the drama of the evening starts to hit you.  You feel your eyes getting heavy, start to doze off in the hospital bed with him.  His verb tense choice, though—he has considered it, past tense, not is considering it, present tense—makes you wonder how long Bob might have been breaking that rule…

Bob doesn’t say anything else, but he thinks it:  he never took a girl home to his family because he vowed to only ever do it once—with the girl he plans to marry. 

[inaconstantstateofchange]

binggeyuan modern!AU based on this prompt where shen yuan and luo binghe live in the same apartment building, but have never met each other. SY is more-or-less his regular shut-in self, and keeps very odd hours, which means that he happens to be wide awake the first time LBH gets back to the apartment building at 3 a.m. after some manner of illicit activity and realizes he doesn't have his fucking entrance key. LBH hits one apartment number after another into the intercom, fully prepared to dazzle his way into getting one of them to open the door for him, but the intercom is old, and people come and go from this building often enough that most people don't bother getting it set up, and he's having no luck.

finally, just as he's about to give up and bully his way onto mobei-jun or sha hualing's couch for the night, someone picks up. he doesn't even remember which specific apartment number it was, he was just entering them mechanically. immediately, LBH pulls on his smoothest affect (sure the intercom has no video, only shitty, garbled audio, but that's no reason to let the universe catch you slipping) and prepares to give the sob story performance of his life. before he can even get a single word out, however, there's a crackly, almost indiscernible "Open!" and he hears the click of the entrance door unlocking before the intercom call is ended. he stares at the intercom for a minute, somewhat wrong-footed, but then shakes himself out of it in time to catch the door before it locks again.

SY, for his part, was broken out of a binge-reading spiral by the intercom call, and fully did not realize how late it had gotten. he assumed he had ordered something that was arriving earlier than expected, and kept an ear out for a knock on his front door from the delivery person for a few minutes, but then got sucked back into the target of his current literary criticism.

the next time LBH gets locked out, he starts in the general number range he remembers striking on the last time, and pays closer attention to the numbers this time. he's curious if his little philanthropist will be so accommodating again. SY orders a lot of packages, okay! the one time he didn't pick up the intercom he had to wait an extra three days for his ultra-rare, limited edition merch, which he will not be going through again. this time, though, when the intercom picks up, LBH is prepared. he starts talking immediately, playing up his stress at being locked out, how sorry he is to be a bother, and how much he really, really appreciates it. SY fully blue screens at this unanticipated display of emotions, blurts something out about how it's not problem and of course he's happy to help out a neighbor in need, then hangs up (after unlocking the entrance, of course). it is perhaps fortunate that the intercom has no video, and thus he can not see the look on LBH's face.

LBH gets more and more consistent pushy with his calls, curious how far this little philanthropist will go for him. he knows his apartment number, of course, he could just knock and introduce himself, but he'd rather let him come to him. LBH starts interjecting little questions here and there, trying to glean any information about his mysterious benefactor. SY, meanwhile, is lighting a daily candle for this poor little bun somewhere in his building, who has truly the worst luck in the entire world! who ever heard of a gang of pickpockets stealing someone's keys not once, but twice in the same week!

LBH gets comfortable with the state of things — as ever, too comfortable. nothing good can last forever. one night, after a long and utterly shitty day, for the first time in ages, he loses his key for real. he's tried to avoid reaching out to SY at any time when he's not 100% in control of himself, but there's nothing for it. he punches in the numbers for the unit he knows by heart at this point, and when it picks up, he sighs tiredly, and waits for SY to speak first. after a moment of silence, the call drops, and the door remains locked. LBH is almost shaken entirely out of his malaise. not even a word? he puts SY's apartment number in again, but this time it doesn't even pick up. he stares at the intercom in unpleasant shock for a few minutes, then punches the wall next to it and leaves. he spends the night on mobei-jun's uncomfortably small couch, staring unseeing at the ceiling above him. at least the other man doesn't ask him any questions.

their easy rapport broken, SY starts to worry when he hasn't heard from his unfortunate little neighbor — maybe he's moved out? hopefully to a place with a more accommodating security system... after a full week, his worry ramps up even higher. he wants to believe his neighbor just found a system to keep track of his keys that works for him, but statistically, it seems unlikely. feeling like the most awkward, overstepping idiot on the planet, he scribbles off a few short notes, and sticks one by the the intercom, one by the mailboxes, and one in the laundry room. his neighbor will have to go at least one of those places, certainly?

to my keyless neighbor - hope you're well! i was worried- if you ever need me, you know where to reach me. you weren't a bother- - XX4

the next time LBH stops by the apartment (he's been avoiding it by couch-hopping as much as possible, to the great aggravation of his friends) he carefully avoids looking at the intercom. as such, it's actually sha hualing who spots the note first. (she bullied her way into an invite to make LBH actually go home.) she crows out a harsh laugh, snatching the note off the wall and holding it up dramatically, cackling about "rom-com shit". LBH isn't really paying attention, until he catches a glimpse of the apartment number at the bottom. eyes flashing, he snatches the note out of her hand, and reads it over once, and then again. after a moment, he turns to sha hualing, and tells her to go home, that he's got plans, actually. she gapes at him for a moment, then scoffs and turns on her heel, flipping him off as she goes. whatever! she didn't want to babysit his mopey ass any longer anyway!

LBH spends a few frozen moments running over his options, torn between calling right now just to see if his philanthropist will pick up this time, and giving himself a chance to freshen up, and maybe make a good enough showing for himself that whatever it was that caused him to be ignored before will never happen again. ultimately, he decides on the latter, but rushes through all his preparations as much as he can while maintaining sufficient attention to detail. he wishes he had the materials to make something truly spectacular, but his apartment is showing his absence over the past week. he settles on a meal that just barely feels sufficient, and finds himself more anxious than he can remember being in years at this point, staring at his philanthropist's apartment door, two levels below his.

he raises his fist to knock, tentatively at first, too quiet to hear, and then once more, louder. a muffled voice comes through the door, and a few moments later, it cracks open to reveal a man just a bit shorter than him, with a rumpled shirt that looks like it has just been haphazardly thrown on and hair that might not have been brushed in days. he's... really cute.

LBH and SY just kind of stare at each other, frozen, for a bit, until LBH proffers the food he's brought, and SY's archaic etiquette subroutines kick in, and he invites LBH in before he can even think about. his immediate wince makes it clear he had not meant to do that, but LBH is not above making a situation work to his advantage, and graciously accepts, stepping into the somewhat cluttered apartment before SY can recover from his slip-up. they still have not exchanged names.

ultimately, they get themselves figured out. LBH introduces himself, and SY follows suit. there's a beat of silence as they both realize that this does not actually clear up anything about how they know each other. LBH finds the words to explain his own part in this are slow to come, so he finally just hands the note, neatly folded, to SY. SY's face colors, but he overcomes it to fussily poke at LBH about how worried he was, when the other just disappeared! LBH stops for a second, hearing that, then slowly responds that it was SY who cut him off first. SY gapes at him, then demands to know when he did a thing like that! he set his intercom call sound to caramelldansen and max volume so he'd be sure not to miss it!

LBH gives him the date, and SY flushes again, then looks away, muttering something unflattering about a "qingge". LBH feels a wash of jealousy, that he's misread the situation and SY is already spoken for, but SY goes on to explain that he had been stuck overnight at the hospital - for nothing major! pretty routine actually! - and the friend that was staying with him must have picked up, then hung up when he couldn't figure out who was calling.

LBH sits back, somewhat at a loss. so it... wasn't because SY was tired of him? SY sputters, waving his hands about. absolutely not! he might be slightly forgetful, but binghe is clearly a wonderful young man and it's not like SY has much else going on in his life!

LBH determines to himself then and there that the only way to ensure such a thing does not happen again is to make sure that he is the one staying with SY the next time he's in the hospital.

[oceansmotion]

Welcome to Gaudy Shore!

Power, fame, wealth— for decades, Sims have come to Gaudy Shore seeking fortune. On the outside, the glitz and glamour are dazzling, but the dark, seedy underbelly of the city casts a long shadow. Will these families shine bright, or will the shadow swallow them up?

Featuring 12 households, Gaudy Shore sees the return of some much beloved and missed families from Sims 1! Set 25 years in the future, this hood can be played as a companion hood to Pleasantview, or on its own.

Every family has their own storytelling album so make sure to check them out!

Keeping reading to learn about the families in Gaudy Shore!

Returning families:

The Mashuga Family

Content to dance the night away, - every night, for decades, - Frankie and Sylvia Marie have taken a hands-off approach to raising their children. Now that they're in their twilight years, what are their kids willing to do to get what they believe is owed to them?

The Hick-Charming Family

Elden only ever wanted what was best for his family, but somehow got himself involved in shady dealings. Charleigh is young and full of life, but will that get her into trouble with the boys? And will Clarke ever leave her bedroom?

The Jones-Smith Family

The Jones-Smith family has been a pillar of the community for decades, and the death of Chris has sent everyone reeling. Nick has vowed to honor his mother by setting his career aside to focus on his family, but that's easier said than done.

Michelle loves to dance, sing, and drink the night away, especially after the death of Mama Chris. Is her new interest in the town magnate genuine, or just another way to extend the party?

New Families:

The Banks Family

Rich, powerful, beautiful— the Banks family is known throughout town for everything beauty-related. Obsessed with only herself, will Arie uncover her husband's secrets? Lux thinks of himself as a good man, but is he really? Will Benjamin choose to follow his heart or his mind?

The Ramoz Family

Nora has always dreamt of being a famous movie star but has found mild success in the writing and voice acting world. Can that be enough for her, or will she strive for bigger and better things? Julien had his heart broken by his two best friends in the world. Can he ever forgive them? And will Carlos find himself involved in the shady underbelly of Gaudy Shore?

The Ermírio de Moraes Family

Wealthy, powerful, lonely, José has it all… except love. Is he blind to reality, or is this new relationship the real deal?

The Jenkins Family

Naive, sheltered Alyssa has lived her life under the strict thumb of her mother, Miriam. Will she be willing to ruin someone else's life to get the love and affection she's always desperately craved?

The Nelle Family

Quiet and reclusive, only a few Sims in town really know the Nelle family, but it doesn't take a genius to notice that something isn't quite right with them.

The Waltzman Family

Ever the partier, Wesley finally grew up and changed his outlook on life, but this has left him a little over protective of his sister, Wilma. Will he ruin her chances at happiness? And will he find love despite his ties to another?

Heartbroken for years, Wilma has finally gotten over her first love… or has she? She just met Donovan, but will her wandering eye lead her to her family's demise?

Four strangers living under one roof and a fresh divorce. Can Walda and Walter Waltzman get along after their divorce, or will they disrupt the perfect harmony Ines and Fernando Ermírio de Moraes have enjoyed for decades?

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Gaudy Shore features 12 playable households, 20 community lots, 3 apartment buildings, and 10 empty houses all built by me , except for Cafe Petit, a lot bin cafe (I like to think of it as a chain). Terrain also made by me. The hood comes with its own unique townies and strays; a few townies even own and work at some of the business around town!

This hood is not CC free but it isn't a lot

CC that I didn't use a lot of and the hood is fine without:

Wire Fencing by Cyclonesue on TSR

Stair Wall Fix by JRW on MTS

Photos & Plaques Hide with Walls Down by Numenor on MTS I used A LOT OF PICTURES taken with the career reward camera and the walls are very cluttered with photos, so I do recommend this mod.

Diagonal 3t2 Bungalow Windows by Nysha on MTS

Natural De Fences by Rosebine on MTS

CEP by Numenor on MTS

CC that will alter the hood significantly:

Bespoke Build Set by Bespoke on MTS

Shiftable Everything by Lamare on MTS

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I've been working on this hood on and off for a long time now, and I'm so happy that it's finally finished. It is definitely a labor of love and I hope you enjoy it <3 While Gaudy Shore was originally intended to be a subhood to complement Pleasantview, there are no ties to PV at all and can be played on its own. Please make sure to check out all the story images I included, I had a lot of fun taking them! For those adding the hood as a subhood, José, Michelle, and the Waltzman kids have which apartments they are supposed to be in at the end of their bios. And for the retirement home, I left it as a normal residential lot, but can also be converted into an apartment lot, or you can maybe use dorm doors, or mods to set each apartment to the correct Sim.

I have also gone through every Sim to set their intended names across all languages, so if your game is not in English, the Sims should still have the names I gave them!

Thank you to everyone that helped me along the way and play tested the hood for me, I really appreciate you <3

Download Mainhood || Mediafire Box

Download Subhood || Mediafire Box

Terrain Only || Mediafire Box

If the names got scrambled, you can use this program from MTS to fix them, it's really easy! Can also be used to fix any other neighborhoods that get messed up :)

Please let me know if the subhood version works as intended and does not yeet itself out of the game, test on a testhood!

Edit: Only download ONE version at a time.