#i find her handwriting and little notes in there too :)

[sandwitchstories]

Hello, Hello! This little scene of Mouse and her Papa has been bouncing around in my head for a few days now, so I had to get it out of my system!

For more adventures in Mouse's Mini-Verse, check out my Dad!Sukuna Series on my AO3 - Here! )

If you prefer to read on AO3 click here !

Author's Note: For anyone new to my Dad!Sukuna Series, Mouse is Sukuna's, currently, 2 year old daughter with reader.

Summary: Sukuna and Mouse take a trip to the market.

WC: 600+

CW: toddler dad Sukuna, girl dad!sukuna, true form Sukuna (4 arms), it's pretty much just plain Dilf Sukuna fluff and crack, SFW in every way, just family fluff, father and daughter fluff, I love them together

Sukuna was simmering. If he didn’t love you the way he did and tolerate Uraume the way he did you both would have been scattered about in pieces. He was the King of Curses and Deadly Poisons. The strongest sorcerer alive. Tall, 4 arms, muscular and a master of hand to hand combat. 

Yet the two of you didn’t think he could handle a single trip to the market with Mouse by himself. It infuriated him. She was a 2 year old. It was not that hard…

“Papa okay?” Mouse asked as she walked next to him, sensing his mood.

“I’m fine.”

He paused as Mouse ran to the side, picking a weed and bringing it back to show him and find out the name of it. About the 6th time she did it, he picked her up and put her on his shoulders, tired of answering questions. She loved the view from up there and he could keep moving at a decent speed. 

But at the market… no no, she HAD to be on the ground, she would accept no less. She knew better than to scream and cry, so instead she made multiple attempts at physically escaping her father’s grasp before he set her down in sheer annoyance. They were still a short way from the market but they were going to have a talk.

He held onto the back of her outfit so she couldn’t get away as he knelt down. “Mouse, listen to me.”

“Okay, Papa,” she said, moving to hold his face and pull it down so they could touch their foreheads together. “I listening.”

“Good. When we get into the market you are to stay by my side. No matter what, you stay by my side. Am I understood?”

“Okay, Papa. I understand!” she smiled and gave him a kiss on the nose. “I stay by Papa.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled, ruffling her hair before standing to his full height. “Lets go.”

When they got to the market Mouse’s eyes got huge and he could swear he saw drool drip from her lips. And then… she apparently decided their entire conversation just moments before had never happened. She set to zigging and zagging through the stands of foods, smelling and looking at everything she could see. 

He couldn’t find it in him to be mad. She was pretty damn cute when she came back to him, jumping up and down telling him about all the foods she saw. And then she got him.

“Papa. We try together?” she wrapped herself around his leg and looked up at him with a big smile. “Food tastes best with Papa.”

He smirked and picked her up in one arm, giving her a little chuck under the chin. “Food tastes best with you too, Mouse. I hope you brought your appetite with you. There’s lots of food to try.”

“I big hungry. Let's go!” she pumped a fist into the air.

“That’s my girl!”

_________________________

It was late afternoon when the two returned home from the market with absolutely nothing you asked them to get, stomach aches from eating too much and both needing a nap after dealing with the general public. You sighed, hands on your hips and shaking your head as you saw the two of them curled up in bed sound asleep. Like father, like daughter.

A small pouch on the nightstand caught your attention. You walked over and picked it up. On top was a note written in Sukuna’s beautiful handwriting. (The man took pride in every single thing he did down to his handwriting. It was impeccable.)

Y/N- As if I would forget about you. - Me

“Such a sap,” you smiled at the bed, feeling butterflies in your stomach. Sukuna was many things. And among them were being a good father, and a wonderful husband. He was a prickly pain in the ass, but gods did you love him. You just… wished he had gotten the items on the damn list…

[lunar-years]

I like to think Roy leaves little notes for Jamie around the house. Some are for little reminders like "don't forget to pack this..." or a list of meal prep instructions on the food he's left for Jamie in his fridge, etc. and some are just general well wishes like "good morning beautiful, meet you at the club x" or whatever. Except Roy's handwriting is so tragically bad, and this combined with the fact that Jamie already finds reading difficult results in Jamie never having one single clue what the hell that man is trying to say to him. He keeps all the notes in a shoebox anyway because they're from Roy and because Roy always signs them off with "I love you," the one sentence in Roy's handwriting that Jamie is never not going to recognize 🥰🥰

[get-stitched]

03.02.2024 // 6" hoop

[yuquinzel]

atsumu who goes above and beyond to impress you, his crush and classmate of four years, in all definitions of “impress.”

honestly how the fuck isn't it obvious to you by now, he might as well be walking around with “i like y/n” tattooed on his forehead.

you mention you like guys that can cook once and holy fuck atsumu who still doesn't know how to use the microwave without quite literally burning the food, who's never chopped onions before without ending up with enough cuts to bandage his whole hand— that atsumu practices for weeks and stays up till 2 am to prepare for the lunch he'll make for himself, because osamu said said no and then because you bring homemade lunch to stay and eat in class with your friends— he'll casually just plop down on the seat next to you, his friends will then very obviously willingly talk loudly about his lunch and he'll just throw in a, “yeah, made it maself, 'm a solid chef, who do ya think taught 'samu?”

okay if that didn't get your attention, no worries, what are his friends there for?

if atsumu gets lucky in a day and catches you chatting away with your friends in the hallway, then he instructs his friends to walk past you, hover in the corner, just within your earshot— “'kay, so when we pass her by, ya gotta speak ma name real loud, loud enough so she can hear it, but don't annoy her”

and so for the time you stand there, trying to hold a conversation with your friends, all your mind can really focus on is the, “atsumu was so fucking good in practice today, if we're gonna win, then it'll be all him”

and then you hear the subject of the conversation speak, “nah, we're a team, every time we win, it's all thanks ta you guys,” because you also mentioned you like modest, humble guys.

god forbid the days you're absent in class.

atsumu who's sulking all day, doesn't know what the fuck is going on in classes, he's half in and half not in every conversation, even his passes are sloppy and weak. to the point osamu and suna are concerned, well, in their own ways, “are ya constipated or something, yer missin’ your spikes and yer passes as clumsy,” osamu says off-handedly.

“i heard y/n didn't come today, i think her friends said she's sick.” suna chips in, and atsumu shrinks in his spot like a grumpy cat.

“i already know that, wouldn't have come today if i knew she wasn't comin’.”

“you'd miss practice then.”

“don't care, don't talk to me, don't wanna do anything, what's the point.”

“down fucking bad,” suna muses, and atsumu glares at him.

atsumu's day is ruined and his disappointment is immeasurable. why did you get sick? how could you get sick? now he's worried and half of himself and his passes are shit and god, he wants to see you. he feels like he could die.

then when you finally show up the next day after what felt like eternity to atsumu, you find on your desk a pile of snacks with a little note— banana milk, everyone knows it's your favourite, the bar of chocolate they only sell down the convenience store near the school, the glazed donuts that you're always eating in class, and a lot of bubblegums that only one person in class knows you like— atsumu's handwriting is rushed and barely comprehensive but you know it by heart because he doesn't know you saw him slip the note you found in your locker this morning, and countless other mornings—

“i hope you smile because of this”

atsumu as a secret admirer is... not so secret because he's still unaware that you see him every morning, and let him giggle to himself as he slips the notes and the strips of bubblegums in your locker— you don't even like that flavor.

but he gave them, so you think they might just be your favourite.

then again, maybe atsumu doesn't want to be a secret admirer.

atsumu has a crush on you and you know that— he's very obvious. but he's also very dense and doesn't realise that everyone besides him can see you like him too. he doesn't know the only reason you bring homemade lunch is because he had started to eat lunch in class with his friends. you stand in the hallways with your friends pretending to talk so that when atsumu's walking past you, his friends will practically yell his name and you'll see him blushing shyly. he still doesn't know you come to his every match, cheering for him and scream with joy at every one of his scores.

atsumu makes it obvious he has a crush on you but is stupidly dense that you reciprocate all the same :'))))

© yuquinzel 2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

POSTING BECAUSE WHY TF NOT HUH HUHHHHHHHHH

@kyoghurts hi bbg

[bioblsm]

WHAT DOES THEIR CAMERA ROLL LOOK LIKE?

❀ ꒰warnings꒱. boothill backstory spoilers, not proofread ಥ_ಥ

𖧷 characters. jing yuan, blade, dr ratio, ruan mei, aventurine, sunday, boothill

☆彡 notes. aventurine 🤝 boothill — being some of the most gay ass mfs i’ve seen in a hyv game (apart from bronya and seele) seriously their flamboyance still gives me whiplash…anyways this has been on my mind for months now but i’ve never gotten around to writing it!!! >_<

JING YUAN 𐚁 景元

[◉"] 2,304 photos, 83 videos

⌖ if you scroll really fast down or up his gallery, all you’ll actually manage to see is splotches of pink, blonde and silver

⌖ everything ranges from cute candid shots of yanqing (he takes multiple if yanqing’s fallen asleep while on duty), to sneaky pictures of fu xuan as she’s working where he’s in the foreground doing peace signs — the final picture of course being her looking at the camera lense directly to glare up at him

⌖ reaching weekends when he’s slightly a little more free or allows himself a small break to stroll around town, his camera roll is either filled with pictures of food he’s eaten or swords that yanqing may or not definitely ask about that he’s now more inclined to buy as he’s seen them in person (he’s a boy dad who loves spoiling his child, alright?)

⌖ the large majority of his photos unfortunately are work related, only really the recent ones being deleted from his gallery to clear up some space

⌖ however, while his photos are preoccupied with either his two kids or random scrolls with messy and rushed handwriting, each video is of you; jing yuan thinks a picture would belittle your beauty too much.

⌖ he needs something a little more real, a little more active and animated to help him quell the chirping loneliness that creeps up on his heart whenever you’re away from him for a prolonged period of time; if he’s feeling particularly mischievous he might sneak a quick but blurry picture of himself to send to you ♡

BLADE 𐚁 刃

[◉"] 9 photos, 2 videos

⌖shit is BARREN. literally a complete EMPTY VOID. if you snatched his phone somehow you’d assume he just got it despite him not having changed it ever since he received one

⌖ perhaps on the occasion you’ll find a cameo picture from one of the stellaron hunters as his phone is left unoccupied and someone decided to blast his entire gallery with their face (silverwolf specifically just hacks into his phone to keep putting random screenshots he’s never taken in his gallery to make him believe he’s taken them)

⌖ maybe sometimes he’ll screenshot different ways to die or health clinic locations he can avoid when he’s fortunately bleeding out but otherwise? nothing.

⌖ if you’re a massive yapper and love sending him pictures, he won’t go out of his way to download them for later usage (whatever that may be…) but he also won’t go out of his way to delete it if it’s accidentally automatically downloaded on his phone — maybe elios intended for it to be there?

⌖ it’s quite nice having a reminder of his significant other where he doesn’t have to actively listen to their voice… that’s a little exaggerative; but he loves just mapping out the features in your face, it helps him sleep just the slightest bit better with no ailment if he’s able to trace your features like a constellation on his blank, dark wall

DR RATIO 𐚁 真理医生

[◉"] 1000 photos, 100 videos

⌖ call it a form of ocd, but he NEEDS to have a decent ratio (i didn’t even mean for this to be a pun i’m so sorry) of his photos to videos; he doesn’t care if it’s 10:1, 2:1 1:5, he needs something that’s at least somewhat pleasing to the eyes

⌖ ratio immediately deleted anything he doesn’t need or thinks he won’t find use in for at the very least the month (this includes every single cameo shot aventurine or you have taken of yourselves on his phone without his permission, which by the way, he didn’t hesitate to scold you two for)

⌖ maybe if he’s feeling particularly loving (when is he ever?) he’ll allow ONE picture to stay.

⌖ his camera roll is purely filled with test results, written exams, student emails he needs to read over, things concerning the guild or the ipc and secret purchases of ducks he’s made (he’s not ashamed, he just doesn’t want you to know he’s buying ducks that are bigger in size every time so he can fill your shared bathroom)

⌖ realistically, maintaining such a perfect ratio of photos:videos is rather impossible unless you’ve got impeccable timing with things you save and delete so, in order to bypass this, ratio made a photo library to help serve as a base number of sorts

⌖ that photo library is of course a secret and locked haven filled with pictures and videos of you, none of which you can even recall taking. all of them hold at least some sort of significance to the both of you, but the ones that dr ratio loves the most is the ones that are just natural

⌖ the ones that show you being yourself, whether it’s where you’re cuddled up near a blanket reading something with a leg hiked up over the sheets or where you’re sleeping with your mouth wide open because you’re sick and unable to breathe through your nose properly; he loves it all

RUAN MEI 𐚁 阮•梅

[◉"] 505 photos, 28 videos

⌖ she tries to keep it as neat as possible; that means no sneaky pics taken of her by you, accidental blurry shots she’s taken (god forbid, those ones are immediately scrapped and done anew especially if related to an experiment of hers) thought that doesn’t mean she clears it in the regular

⌖ ruan mei actively saves any photo you send her, sometimes she’ll even screenshot the chat itself if she finds herself clutching at her heart as she swoons over a few lines of flirting that apparently you couldn’t hold yourself back from due to how much you missed her

⌖ she’s not someone really sentimental so despite having photos of her little cake-cat hybrids, she rarely ever rechecks them unless the trailblazer sent another report on their status to match

⌖ honestly her memory is impeccable to the point she doesn’t even need screenshot reminders of things like dates and experiments saved (would it even be called machine reductionist to call her a walking computer model at this point?) therefore, anything she saves that’s work or science related probably has more intricacies that she can account for

⌖ her gallery is a little boring otherwise. for someone of her morally grey standards you’d expect at least something worth mentioning, maybe even something dumb like a secret recipe she uses to make the sweetest (anti-truth serum…) pastries but no— nothing.

yet the reason for that is very blatant; not even her beloved has the privilege to witness her mendacity.

AVENTURINE 𐚁 砂金

[◉"] 8,793 photos, 777 videos

⌖ it’s a complete and utter mess to say the very least; dr ratio refuses to so much as glance at it whenever he’s near and topaz just gets an ick:

“how do you even manage to find anything?”

“luck.”

⌖ his photos range from absurd, to sweet to egotistical. things that remind him of you such as random rocks he finds, alcoholic beverages that have the same colour scheme of an outfit you wore the night before, an animal he saw that he swears if reincarnation was real would so be you

⌖ he has a specific library for just solely screenshots based off your chats, most of them including a significant amount of “i love yous” and goodbyes that promised a little something more when you met up next; everything that aventurine utterly cherished and craved

⌖ …and then the rest was either him showing the background of him photobombing others, pictures he took to send to you (or one of the ipc members to piss them off, sometimes even the trailblazer for a cheeky laugh) and on the even more popular occasion, all his extraordinary wins whether it be in poker, pool or uno

⌖ compared to his photos, his videos are slightly more interesting. a near 50/50 split that ranged between him telling dumbass jokes to piss off his coworkers, recordings of the back of dr ratio’s and or topaz’s head just for the future laughs (he likes the reminder that he does actually have friends and they aren’t just deliberate hallucinations born of loneliness).

⌖ but of course, all his “favourited” videos involve you somehow. sometimes it’s just a slip of your name while he’s sneakily recording a meeting, him telling you he misses you or vice versa, other times it’s just when he feels like he has a home. you snuggled up on his chest, hands intertwined together as your breathing nearly synchronises with him…moments where he feels as though he could forget the trademark imprinted onto his neck.

SUNDAY 𐚁 星期日

[◉"] 777 photos, 111 videos

⌖ now as much as i want to say “oh it’s all you! he has a special folder for you <3” i unfortunately can’t.

⌖ it’s almost most definitely videos of robin’s concerts, solo shows, videos he stolen off of audience members with good seats when he wasn’t available to personally hide in the crowd…a lot of the photos are also the same way; robin’s promotional pictures, screenshots from her recent advertisements and negative hate comments or news stories that he’s going to personally deal with later

⌖ that doesn’t mean he values or priorities you over his sister, absolutely not. you two are the only people in his life who he would unironically take down the skies and survive utter torment for if it meant your voices were the last things he heard as bellowing winds sliced past his eardrums to tune the world out in order to hear his own final breath

⌖ he tries his best not to be sentimental or nostalgic, as he’s been told as he grew up into the bright and maybe just slightly tragic and guilt-infested man he is today, those things in his eyes are an innate weakness of humanity. clinging onto something thats not tangible anymore.

⌖ but he can’t help but hold on to every video you send him. every picture of you smiling, laughing, every text of you saying i love yous, quoting love songs to him or showing him pictures where you jokingly said “that’s us” (did he tilt his head a few times when you kept sending animals to him with that particular correspondent message? perhaps, but it never made him blind to the intentions).

BOOTHILL 𐚁 波提欧

[◉"] 12,113 photos, 191 videos

⌖ he truly doesn’t gaf (give a fork) about how messy it is, all the things that are genuinely important are already locked and loaded into his noggin’, there’s no point in being frugal with the space he’s been given on a little cellular device

⌖ you wouldn’t believe it, but he rarely uses it unless it’s for emergencies. there’s plenty of trouble that comes around when you’re a galaxy ranger, which means having a constant tracking device on you like a phone that you update daily is a stupidly bad idea; which is precisely why his photo gallery is a mess

⌖ he quite literally can’t go in and clear it out otherwise it risks giving out sensitive information.

⌖ not applicable to you, that is. in boothill’s eyes, you’re an “emergency”. if you’ve texted him, it’s obvious you want his attention, which potentially means you could be in danger and he has to rush to the rescue like the flamboyant cowboy he is (no he absolutely knows you don’t need help, but there’s always that nagging “what if” factor, you know?)

⌖ he inwardly blesses whoever invented screenshotting because it would be an understatement to say that little as half of his gallery is littered with you. he’s just a bit of a boomer when it comes to technology like this, despite being a whole walking charging port himself ehem, so a lot of the pictures he has saved of you that you sent over whenever he cutely pleaded;

“missing ya, send me a lil’ somethin’ wont you?”

unfortunately are uncropped and framed with the outline of whatever messaging app you’re on.

⌖ if he lets you scroll up far back enough, maybe you’ll get to see just a glimpse of how similar his adoptive daughter’s smile was to his

© BIOBLSM ✮ do not copy steal or repost

[aakeysmash]

prompt:

sukuna skipping gym to sleep in and later on does his workout in their living room, using her as a weight when doing push ups, may turn heated hehe

college Sukuna's masterlist

turned this into a college!sukuna drabble lmao sorry!! no smut this time, i wanted to elaborate a bit on sukuna's protectivness toward yuuji :)

You're humming a song from your studying playlist when you hear someone knocking at your door. You look at the clock you keep on your desk near a plant Yuuji gifted you last week. On the terracotta vase there's a scribbled note in the obvious handwriting of a child.

To: baby peach, but no more annoying screams when we play, please!

You smile. He always chooses to be baby mario when you play Mario Kart together because he doesn't want you to feel alone in case you're the only baby character. He's such a cute kid, you're lucky to have him as one of your almost-roommates.

You get up (it's still pretty early anyway) and stretch your back, hearing it pop. You open the door, and standing in front of it is the same kid you were thinking about.

"Hey," you wave at him, a happy tilt to your voice. You look at him shuffling and avoiding your gaze.

"Is everything okay, Yuuji?" you start getting worried. He mumbles something you don't hear clearly, so you make him repeat himself. He juts his lip out, then looks straight at your face.

"Can you take me to school please?"

You raise your eyebrows. Usually, this is a big brother kind of duty: where is Sukuna? Yuuji takes your silence as rejection and starts backtracking.

"Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you, I can just go alone-"

"Sure, let me grab my purse and we can go," you stop him, changing your expression to one of calmness, ruffling his pink, unruly hair.

"Are you sure it's not a bother?" he asks you hesitantly. "Big bro closed his door and I can't seem to be able to wake him up... and I'm supposed to be accompanied by an adult..."

"It's not a big deal, Yuuji. I'll take you in my passenger seat, okay? We'll be there shortly," you reassure him, nodding.

"Thanks," he says, blushing, giving you one of the biggest smiles you've ever seen him do. Your heart melts a little, and he looks at you like you've physically hung up the sun shining outside.

When you get back home, you're not even able to get to your room when you find yourself being squished between the nearest wall and a hot, rapidly rising and falling chest.

"Where the fuck is my brother?" Sukuna grits out his teeth, breathing down your neck. You wince. He's controlling his strength, but he's still a mountain compared to you, and your ribcage is starting to hurt.

"Get off of me right now or I'm calling the police, Itadori."

He notices he must have been too rough and takes a step back, mumbling an apology while still looking at you menacingly. You pat your clothes, making sure there are no wrinkles before answering him.

"I took him to school. He told me he was being neglected by his own caretaker, so I had to intervene," you shrug.

"He did not say that. He doesn't even know the word neglect," he says, sighing. His shoulders drop and he takes on a more relaxed appearance.

"What's wrong with you? You've never gotten up later than 6 am," you ask him, trying to sound nonchalant, walking toward your fridge to make yourself a toast. The truth is, you're starting to get attached to him. In the last couple of months, you've created some sort of bond, and it's probably also thanks to Yuuji and his stubbornness in making you do things like you're a family. Just last night, he forced you both to make cookies with him because apparently his friend Megumi was coming to play this afternoon and "he wanted to make a good impression".

Sukuna, on the other hand, can be a lot. The majority of the time he nudges you to get you to move out of his way (he just does it to see your annoyed face, but he's not going to tell you that), huffs in your face when you say he hasn't cleaned his dishes from the night before, and flips you off whenever you try to have a civil conversation about who's turn it is to choose the film on Friday night. But he's also pretty attentive. It's not like he makes you notice it, but he does feel bad for you when you get out of your room after an all nighter because of your studies. He thinks you're annoying because you're always trying to pry into his private life, but when you're not home Yuuji always asks of your whereabouts. Yeah, that's definitely why he can't stop thinking about you laughing with the boy he literally raised. The boy whose disappearance was driving him insane this morning.

Because sure, Sukuna tells Yuuji he's a brat 95% of the time, and the kid yaps way too much for his taste. He also manhandles the kid badly, telling him he's way too weak to be called his brother, and more often than not Sukuna tells him he's adopted and that he'll kick him out as soon as he can. But you've seen the way he prepared soup every night when his little brother caught the flu in December—he's just full of shit. He'll never admit how hard it was to raise a brother he didn't want at 13, alone and broke. But he'll make sure the child never doubts of having someone to fall back into like Sukuna did since he was much younger than Yuuji is now.

"Didn't sleep well and I missed the gym," he responds, munching on an apple. You hum in acknowledgment, not turning around from the stove.

"You know that pilates class you suggested to me last week? I found their videos on YouTube. I was thinking of starting them today," you quickly change the topic. You know you won't get more than that; him admitting he didn't sleep well was already a win.

"Wanna start them with me, chipmunk?" he asks you. You turn around to slap his arm slightly.

"I told you to stop calling me that," you say rolling your eyes.

"No."

You whine. "Yes, by the way. I want to see you suffer like the men I see on TikTok."

"Come be my weight and I'll do pilates with you today," he suddenly says. You're biting your toast and you're so caught off guard that you start coughing up crumbles. He hands you a glass of water while telling you you're too fucking dramatic.

"What does it mean to be your weight?" you tentatively ask him when you can breathe properly again.

That's how you find yourself sitting crisscrossed on his back, gripping his shirt as hard as you can, while he does pushups and tries not to laugh every time you scream about him moving too much and almost making you fall.

[syoddeye]

john price x f!reader thing. unedited. ~600 words.

john price finds a dent in the driver’s door and a note tucked under a wiper.

sorry i can’t afford to pay, please forgive me x

and he’s angry, of course. who wouldn’t be? piece of shit. then he registers the looping handwriting and the little heart in the corner. interesting. he pulls the cctv. lo and behold, there she is. the culprit. some stumbling drunk buffoon.

~~

you probably shouldn’t have nabbed an e-scooter when you were three sheets to the wind, but you did, and fuck, you’re paying for it. you genuinely feel bad about the dent you left in the parked car last night, but you think a broken wrist and three stitches in your lip is more than enough punishment, thanks. you groan, remembering how you tossed the scooter into a bush and hiked a few streets away before calling 999. having to clock in for an opening shift added insult to injury.

~~

he imagines it’s rough going, working an espresso machine with a busted wrist. he supposes the manager didn’t want her as the cashier given the lip. pity, the swelling and stitches aside, she’s quite cute. but serves her right.

he wonders how she’ll react when he picks up his coffee and procures the printed still of her face, clear as day, fleeing from the scene of the crime.

he should feel bad, considering her injuries and what a barista job pays, but. it’s the principle of the thing.

“rough night?” he asks, hovering at the end of the bar.

“huh? oh, yeah. could say that,” she smiles tiredly. it’s a little strained, but still warm. “pity partied too hard.”

john’s smirk flattens. “pity party?”

“yeah,” she shrugs. “series of unfortunate events.”

like running into my car?

“what, bad date?” he jokes carefully, hiding behind a friendly grin.

“ha, guess so. it was supposed to be an anniversary dinner.” she explains dryly, looking all the more defeated as she tamps the grounds.

“supposed to be?”

she glances up, locking in the portafilter with a crank of her good arm. she finally looks a little suspicious of him. smart. “yeah.”

“i don’t mean to pry. you just seem like you could use a vent.” solid recovery.

it works. she considers a moment, shrugs again, and nods as she pulls the shot. “guess so,” she licks her lip and looks back, evidently deeming him harmless. not smart.

“found out he was cheating, called him on it, and he stormed out. after we ordered.”

that’s. that’s not what he expected. but it stirs something oddly protective. john’s a bit old-fashioned, he’s the first to admit it, so to hear about a man carrying himself so poorly? a man running around on a pretty thing like her?

it doesn’t sit well with him. car be damned.

“so how’d you…” he prompts, nodding at the cast.

“oh, yeah, we ordered some fancy wine. i drank most of the bottle alone, sobbing,” she cracks a self-deprecating smile and it dislodges something in his chest. “but the server didn’t charge me for dessert. i, uh, fell on my way home.”

crashed. you crashed into my car.

“sounds terrible.”

“it was. the whole night was. anyway.” she pauses to slide a pen from her apron to write on the cup. “americano to go?” she asks, pushing the drink over the counter, eyes floating to the next order.

john spots the same little heart, the looping letters. he looks back at her, plugging along despite the clear heartache and injuries. he sighs, crumpling the print out in his pocket.

“think i’ll have it to stay, actually,” he mumbles, knowing she doesn’t hear him as she makes the next drink.

he camps out at a table where he can watch her. there’s a dent in his car, but he’s decided there’s a barista-sized hole in his life.

[rin-may-1103]

Just a Bite (part two)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Danny slid into the taxi and closed the door, not even a second later did the man merge into traffic. Sneaking a glance at the driver, who somehow looked even worse than Danny did when he hadn't slept in four days, Danny slowly peeled off the sticky note from the seat.

glancing down, he found Clockwork's familiar handwriting. (which he would like to add, shouldn't be as familiar as it is, but then again, he shouldn't be having tea time with him either.)

Do what you think is right, only then does your future look bright.

well, alright then. does that mean Danny should jump out the moving car? because he didn't think walking into some poor rich dude's house and forcing his company on the family was the right thing to do. He thought it was the most convenient at the moment, sure, but not the right one.

flipping the note over, Danny found more writing;

Do not jump out of the car, you've already come this far. Patience will be a virtue. This is worth the persue. Do not worry, there is no hurry.

"what the hell, Clockwork?" Danny quietly hissed, glaring off to the side and out the window. "You become friends with Ghostwriter or something? and what do you mean don't worry? I'm literally running from the government. if nothing else, that's probably the one thing I need to worry about."

Another sticky note poped up, this time stuck to the back of the driver's seat. Glancing up, Danny waited a second for the driver to be distracted before reaching out and snatching the note.

the only thing on it was a very shitty smily face.

what the fuck.

"this isn't funny, clocky!" Danny hissed again, glancing up to make sure the driver hadn't heard him. "mom and dad literally have my ecto signature, they only need a single hint of which direction to go before it becomes all too easy to find me again."

closing his eyes, Danny took a deep breath.

holding it for a second, then exhaling. Alright. Fine, if Clockwork isn't worried or against this, then there's no reason not to do this. (well besides the obvious one; it's rude to walk into someone's house uninvited and whatnot.)

"fine, but I'm only staying long enough to snag some food and then I'm gone, got it?" Danny grumbled, glaring at his reflection in the window. he didn't receive another note, so he leaned back and watched as the city passed. Slowly buildings spread out, and green lawns turned into green fields.

staring down at the smiley face, Danny shook his head, carefully he pulled out his phone and removed the case. shoving the sticky note inside, Danny put the case back on and put his phone in his pocket. it was dead, so he couldn't do anything else with it so might as well make it useful. who knows when Danny might need that little bit of ectoplasm.

A few minutes later, the taxi slowed to a stop next to a black gate and rolled down the window. "taxi 'ere, Mr. Wayne already paid me."

"I see," a strongly British voice echoed from the box, "come in." The gate beeped a second later and swung open, allowing the taxi to drive through. Danny glanced around the front 'yard' as they approached the looming building. Nicely trimmed green grass fields as far as the eyes could see, trees lining where Danny had to assume were the property lines.

somehow it was completely different from Vlad's front yard, yet still, Danny could only describe them as the same. Green, full of flowers and sculpted bushes and outlandishly garish paveways for their rich front doors. If Danny squinted he could swear there were butterflies happily fluttering around the sides of the building.

and Danny uses the word building here because that was not a house.

No, no. That building wasn't even a mansion like Sam's house. nor was it a castle, like Vlad's. It was an old building of amalgamated eras and themes. Danny was so annoyed his phone was dead right now, Sam would have lost her mind if she could see what he was. Are those eighteenth-century dormers right next to a twentieth-century skylight???

you know what? Mr. Wayne deserves to have all of his food eaten right in front of him. Who in their right mind would allow their home to look like that? And in the twenty-first century no less!

The taxi pulled to a stop; and Danny, lost in his Sam-induced horror, automatically pushed the car door open, stumbled his way out, closed the door, and stopped at the bottom of the stairs to stare up at the roof.

Taxi man sniffed and then drove off, his jaw cracking yawn echoing in the back of Danny's mind.

"Master Tim?" the British voice from earlier echoed out from the now-opened door. Danny's gaze dropped from the roof and down to the older man now walking toward him. the man hadn't looked up from his newspaper, still reading a paragraph as he stopped in front of Danny.

blinking, Danny glanced down at the paper. he might as well see what had the man's attention so thoroughly. Another article about Damian Wayne and the schoolyard incident.

Danny snorted, he remembered reading about that one. Someone had thrown away their copy and Danny had been bored. let's just say Danny was thoroughly entertained. he even had thoughts about how the kid had managed to sneak in a small dagger with how tight the school's security claimed to be.

"it had to be his belt, I just know it," Danny whispered, leaning a little more to try and see what the new article revealed.

"yes, yes. young master Damian snuck his dagger to school, no need for you to tell me how for the seventh time. Now, then." the butler, folded the paper and put it in his back pocket, and then, again without looking, gently grabbed Danny's arm and guided him toward the door.

"master bruce has been worried about your lack of sleep, you will go to your room and take a nap or you will not be allowed to share in your siblings' desert at diner tonight." the British man sternly continued, closing the front door behind them.

Danny blinked at him, then at the large foyer in front of them. he was so glad Vlad hadn't splurged on aesthetics like this family obviously had. Was that a crystal chandelier?

The British man, Danny was going to call him Gramps now, guided Danny to the stairs and then promptly let him go so he could rush off to find the source of a loud crash, but not without telling Danny (master Tim) to get some rest.

Glancing up at the grand stairs (covered in an obscene amount of glitter) and finding a large golden framed painting of the ocean with a for sale sign next to it, Danny made up his mind.

Mr. Wayne was a multi-billionaire, who allowed his ancient family home to be butchered. If he wasn't going to respect his home when Danny didn't even have one anymore?

Then Danny was going to honor Sam; The person who had dragged him into this hellish life of interior and exterior design (as well as the half'a life coincidently). And how was he going to do this, you ask? well what else, then do the very thing she's dedicated her time to?

Eating the rich.

Or in this case; their food.

and well, what was a ghost supposed to do when welcomed into an ancient home with ungrateful residences? Not haunt them?

[harryslittlefreakk]

kiss it better

summary: when y/n doesn’t show up to work, harry takes her care into his own hands. ceorry x PA y/n

warnings: mentions of illness and vomiting! just plain fluff other than that

wordcount: a little over 2k

a/n: in honour of me being gravely ill 😀 this is probably not very good lol whatevs!!!! i wanted to write and fluff was calling my name

masterlist

Harry glanced at his watch, frowning as he realised something was off. You were always punctual, always greeting him with a smile and a steaming cup of coffee before he even stepped into his office. But there was no sign of you. His desk was a little too tidy in the absence of your swirling handwriting on sticky notes and files. It smelled musky without the sweet coconut of your perfume to counter the dominance of his aftershave.

He set his briefcase down, pulling out his phone to dial your number. He knew he shouldn’t call you, that whatever kept you from work was obviously important, but he needed to know. The phone rang into Harry’s ear a few times before going to voicemail, his brows knitting as he left his office in search of an explanation for your absence.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out, an email pinging through to his phone almost as soon as he opened his mouth to ask where you were.

Without thinking twice, Harry grabbed his coat and headed for the door, his heart thudding with concern, for reasons that he couldn’t quite place. You never missed work. You were always so reliable, pushing yourself even when you shouldn’t, even when Harry told you not to. If he was in the office, you were too, always leaving later than him and getting in earlier.

He stopped by a small deli as he left the office, ringing his mum in the middle of the fresh produce aisle to get her family-favourite soup recipe. Some fresh bread, vegetables, milk and teabags, medicines and ginger shots.

Harry was carried by some sort of unseen force, a desire to be the hero for a day. It wasn’t until he reached your building’s main entrance that he thought to question what he was doing.

He hadn’t even told anyone he was leaving - his briefcase was still sat on his chair, his work untouched. He was skipping on his own company to show up at your door laden with supplies like he was close enough to you to be your caretaker. He shook his head gently, his out-stretched finger reaching for your buzzer before he even made his mind up on whether to stay or go.

He was at your front door a few minutes later, the groceries hanging limply in his hand as he took in your appearance, his features softening as his eyes trailed over your face. Your usually bright skin was dull and pale, your brown eyes outlined by reds and purples, the tip of your nose tinted pink, your lips dry and cracked.

“Harry? What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice thick and hoarse.

You pulled your cardigan tighter around your waist, wishing the building would just collapse around you, a stray meteor would strike you down, anything to not be standing in front of your boss in your skimpy pyjamas while he looked at you like you were a wounded puppy.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

You shrugged, stepping back into your door as Harry moved towards you. “I didn’t want to bother you. It’s just a cold.”

“Bother me?” He shook his head, stepping around you and pulling the door closed behind him. “You’re never a bother, y/n. I was worried.”

Before you could protest, he was already moving into your small kitchen, setting the groceries on the counter. “I bought supplies. Have you had any medicine? You go sit down and I’ll bring you some over. Tea, coffee, water?”

You looked around in a daze, your gaze flitting between the front door and Harry as your brain struggled to catch up. Medicine, supplies, tea, sick, worried. His words were buzzing around your clouded mind, your brows knitted as you stepped towards him.

“Harry, you don’t have to-” you started, but he shot you a pointed look over his shoulder. You knew that face all too well. It was the ‘I’m in charge here, and we both know it’ look that you’d seen him giving to clients and staff countless times over the past year, usually followed by a smirk in your direction.

“Sit. That’s an order,” he said with a hint of a smile. “I’ll take care of everything.”

You sighed but obeyed, shuffling over to the sofa and sinking into the cushions. You knew better than to argue, especially with the way your body was aching after only walking to the door and back.

“I’ve had medicine already,” you told Harry, nodding your head towards the packet on the coffee table. He padded over, reaching for the pills with a satisfied smile.

“Good girl. Where are your mugs?”

Good girl. You pressed the back of your hand to your cheek, knowing instantly that you were burning up and it had nothing to do with the flu.

“Top cupboard on the left,” you muttered, your voice tiny as Harry stared down at you.

You’d found yourself in a dangerous game. It was hard enough to control yourself around Harry in the office with your wits about you, but with him in your home, apparently intent on taking care of you, calling you a good girl, you were almost ready to plan the wedding.

“Oh no.”

A sudden wave of nausea washed over you, your eyes glued to the floor as you scrambled to your feet, rushing past Harry as if he wouldn’t notice if you went fast enough. You barely made it to the toilet before the nausea overwhelmed you, your body heaving.

Within seconds, Harry was behind you. He knelt down, one hand gently pulling your hair back from your face while the other rubbed over your shoulders. “I’ve got you,” he murmured softly.

Now you really wished someone would smite you down. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, both from the force of being sick and the embarrassment of having Harry see you like this. You tried to apologise, but another wave hit, cutting you off.

“You’re okay,” Harry whispered, his hand never stopping its gentle motion on your back.

You slumped back against the wall, exhausted. Harry stood up to wet your flannel, crouching in front of you to dab at your forehead and cheeks, his touch tender and careful, as if you might break.

The ridiculousness of it all almost made you laugh. There he was, in his thousand pound suit, his curls perfectly styled, wiping the sick from your face as you poured like a child in your Barbie pyjamas. And it was only 11am. There was plenty of time for things to get even worse for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse and weak. “That was mortifying.”

“Hey, none of that,” Harry said firmly, but his eyes were soft as he studied your face. “You’ve taken care of every one of my needs for a year. You’re sick, I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulled you to your feet, keeping a tight hold of your hand as he guided you back to the sofa, fluffing your cushions before you sank down.

You closed your eyes, your body aching with fatigue and the lingering embarrassment of being so messy and vulnerable in front of your boss.

As if he could read your mind, Harry sat down beside you, his arm wrapping tightly around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “I’ve got you,” he murmured again, his voice ghosting over the top of your head. “Just rest. I’m not leaving.”

You let out a shuddering breath, the warmth of his body against yours easing some of the lingering chills. Slowly, the tension began to drain away, the exhaustion tugging at you. You turned slightly, pressing your face into his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

He shifted, carefully adjusting his position so you could lie more comfortably against him. His fingers stroked through your hair, chills shooting straight down your spine.

“You’re okay,” Harry whispered, his lips brushing against your hair. “I’m right here.”

When you didn’t respond, Harry stayed still, holding you close, his heart aching at how fragile you suddenly seemed to him. He would keep you safe, he promised to himself.

—

You were still glued to Harry’s side when you woke, although he’d clearly been busy while you were out cold.

His blazer was slung over a chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up as they always were after a few hours of work. His arm was still tight around you, his free hand dancing across the keyboard of his laptop as he stared and muttered at the screen.

Your lips curled into a little smile with the realisation that he’d been up and about while you slept but had still come back to cuddle you. Your hand instinctively flew to your mouth, covering your smirk before Harry noticed just how happy you were to wake up at his side.

His eyes snapped over to you, his eyes crinkling as his mouth stretched into a grin. “Morning, sunshine,” he teased, setting his laptop to the side.

A gasp fell from your lips as you looked beyond him for the first time since you opened your eyes, realising how little light was left. “It’s nearly dark, Harry. How long was I out?”

“A while,” he shrugged. “It’s a good thing. Your body heals while you sleep.”

You pulled away from him to sit up straight, suddenly conscious of the wet patch on his shirt, his tattoos stark against the translucent fabric. “I kept you hostage here for hours while I drooled all over you.”

“I’ll forward you my dry cleaning bill,” he smirked, peering down at the mark. “I don’t mind, really. I had Tony bring my bits over,” Harry shrugged, nodding towards his laptop. “I got quite a lot done. Maybe we should work from home more often.”

“I won’t be making a habit of chucking my guts up in front of you and drooling all over you,” you whispered, your cheeks blazing hot.

“Glad to hear it, sweetheart. How are you feeling? Do you fancy eating?”

You nodded, running a hand through your wild hair. You didn’t even want to imagine what you looked like. It was becoming increasingly more apparent that you’d have to change your name and flee the country the second Harry left you alone.

But as he padded away from you, you listened to him bustling around your kitchen, the familiar clink of plates and cutlery, it felt all too comforting and all too normal.

Harry came back with a tray, a steaming bowl of soup, some toast, and a cup of tea balanced on top, a tea towel thrown over his arm. He set it down carefully on the coffee table, then sat beside you, watching as you guided a spoonful of soup past your lips.

“This is really good,” you murmured, surprised at how the warmth seemed to spread through you, easing the ache in her throat.

“Glad you like it,” he said, looking pleased. “My mums recipe. I’m half convinced your head could fall off and that soup would manage to cure it.”

You managed to eat most of the soup, under Harry’s watchful gaze. When you finished, he cleaned up quickly, then returned with a fresh cup of tea for you both and a blanket.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you said softly as he draped the blanket over you.

He gave you a gentle smile, pulling your legs onto his lap. “I wanted to. You take care of me. Let me take care of you for once.”

The energy shifted in the room, the atmosphere clouded with something unspoken. You rubbed a finger over your lips, your gaze lingering on Harry as he traced patterns over your skin.

He glanced over at his laptop, pushing the screen closed. “Alright, I think we’ve earned a movie,” he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “What’s your favourite?”

You shrugged, turning your attention to the tv. “I always watch Harry Potter when I’m sick.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Barbie pyjamas and Harry Potter. Maybe I don’t know everything about you.”

“Simple pleasures,” you shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

As the movie played, the sky gradually darkened, the light from the screen casting soft shadows across the room. You’d pulled your legs from Harry’s lap at some point, sinking into the sofa beside him as you sipped at your tea. He kept his eyes on you as you put the mug back down, then without a word, he gently wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer.

You hesitated for a moment before relaxing against him, your head resting on his shoulder. It felt more natural earlier, when you were still dazed and cloudy and overwhelmed with embarrassment. It still felt right, comforting and familiar, but you were so much more aware of your proximity now. Still, when Harry’s hand began to rub slow, soothing circles on your arm, you melted into him.

You glanced up at him after a minute, catching his profile in the flickering light. His eyes were focused on the screen, but there was a softness to his expression, a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

He must have sensed your gaze, because he looked down at you, his eyes locking with yours. For just a moment, the movie, the room, the soft pounding of your head all faded away.

Harry’s hand stilled on your arm, his fingers lingering as if unsure of what they wanted to do next. Then, slowly, he reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your flushed skin.

“Y/n..” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. There was something in his eyes, something vulnerable and almost hesitant, as if he were seeking permission.

Your breath caught, your heart quickening. You pushed your head against his touch, just the slightest movement, your eyes never leaving his.

That was all the encouragement Harry needed. Leaning in slowly, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss so soft and gentle it was almost like the ghost of a breath against your skin. His hand moved to cradle the back of your head, his touch careful, still so gentle as if he was scared he’d break you.

But his kisses were sweet, unhurried, and full of something you couldn’t put into words. He kissed you like he was savouring every moment, like he thought it might be the only time he’d ever feel your lips against his. You felt your whole body surrender to him, enveloped in the warmth and care of his touch.

“You’re going to get sick,” you whispered when he pulled back, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip.

He leaned in again, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, then one to your temple, his arms tightening around you as you buried your head in his chest. “I think I’ve spent enough time in your company to end up catching your germs anyway. At least I got to do that,” Harry murmured, smoothing a hand over your hair.

You stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the movie forgotten. The world outside didn’t matter, the weight of how shitty you felt didn’t matter, the impending infection you’d passed to Harry didn’t matter. In the quiet shadows of the evening, you snuggled closer, feeling his heart beat steadily against you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly content.

“Stay with me?” you murmured, her voice barely audible.

“Of course,” he promised, his lips brushing over your hair.

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7 @cohnfusedarling @ell0ra-br3kk3r @stylesfever @stylesbrock @harry-nialllover @triski73 @meetmeintheemeraldpool @harryshousewitnessprotection @danaehldy @fairytale07 @storyschanging @wannaliveinparadise @mrs-anna-styles211994 @mema10 @fangirl509east @devilsqueen722

[lxkeee]

MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE PART THREE

pairing: Lucifer x fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fanfiction

notes: Imaoo sorry it took awhileee I'm actually a very busy college student while simultaneously having so much brainrot for this man so... Be patient omfg, I just posted part one a two days ago also, don't mind the warnings too much as it doesn't specifically for this specific chapter but it can be future parts of the story. So yes, hand holding before marriage will happen between Lucifer and [y/n]

warnings: none except hand holding before marriage Imao.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR

Lucifer paced back and forth in his room, worried. Walking around the large master's bedroom, passing by many piles of rubber ducks he made.

“She should be back by now.” Lucifer murmured to himself, sighing.

His eyes landed on to the framed pictures decorating his walls.

He prayed that Charlie met [y/n] up there, the one angel he trusts. Though, it has been eons since he's last seen her, he wonders if [y/n] changed after all these years, especially after he had fallen from grace.

Did she hate him? Did she miss him like how he misses her?

As he sat on his arm chair, a gold sealed white envelope manifested on top of the coffee table in front of him, pink glittery smoke surrounding the letter.

“...What the...?” Lucifer murmurs, hesitant and cautious, eyeing the envelope. What if it's a trap?

Suddenly his phone buzzed, he immediately checked it to see it was a text message from Charlie.

“I just left a letter on your table, it's from someone you know. I'll tell you everything that happened in heaven but I'll rest for a bit. Love you dad!”

Lucifer smiled though a tad bit worried, he can tell that the meeting didn't go as his daughter hoped. He can only give her time.

Lucifer then now turned his eyes back on the neat envelope, sparkling a little. He turned the letter around to see it was specifically addressed to him, written in an oh so familiar handwriting to him. Unknowingly, just by seeing the handwriting was enough for his eyes to tear up a little.

“[y/n]....” He murmurs, finally opening the letter. Using his sharp nails to scrape off the wax without breaking it or tearing the envelope. Taking out the carefully folded light yellow paper, unfolding it to reveal her letter to him.

My Dearest Lucifer

His cheeks flushed slightly, with a comma after dearest. My Dearest, Lucifer

“Oh [y/n], this will keep me up at night.” Lucifer murmurs with a small dorky smile on his face, his sharp teeth shining against the light, eyes watering.

My Dearest, Lucifer

       It has been awhile hasn't it? A couple of eons since we've last seen each other. You have no idea how excited I was when I heard your daughter would be coming here in hell. I made sure to write a letter in advance a day before her arrival. I have a lot to tell you, first and foremost, I truly missed you. You sly man, you really got married without inviting me. How's your time down there? I hope hell is treating you right, I really hope I'll get a chance to see you again. I hope we'll get a proper chance to talk, I want to personally hear you how you've been doing. I hope you'll get the chance to see the good of humans after giving them free will, I promise to find a way for you to leave and visit earth. I am running out of paper to right on but I promise to help your daughter up here and lastly, I want you to remember that I adore you always.

“Sincerely yours, [y/n] [l/n]” Lucifer softly reads out, voice shaking. It felt like he could hear her as he read the letter. The same kind [y/n] who always believed in him. His heart swells knowing that she's still trying to help in any way she can despite their distance. She never stopped believing in him despite him leaving without notice (not that he had the chance to).

“If only you knew how much I adore you too, [y/n]...” Lucifer murmurs softly, his finger tracing the outline of the paper ever so gently.

“I want to see you again, I have so many things to say to you... So many unsaid words I wanted to say... I wanted to tell you that I love...” Lucifer's eyes widened ever so slightly, cheeks turning red. He knows he loves her and he still does but he also loves his ex-wife, Lilith. Does he? Or is he just holding into something that no longer exists as it was something he had for a long time and now it's gone?

Everything in his life changed, Lilith's love for him changed, he changed.

Despite all of this, [y/n] remained unchanging inside his heart. Sure, Lilith held the majority of his heart but now? He is not sure but he is 100% sure [y/n] never left, he still has affections for the angel.

How can he not? She's the only one who believed in him when he was up in heaven? She comforted him whenever the elders said hurtful things to his ideas.

But now...

Her letter gave him a sense of hope that his decision of giving mankind free will might not be useless after all.

Lucifer closes the letter, gently folding it back on how it was folded before he opened it. Bringing the piece of paper to his nose, smelling the faint scent of her perfume. It brought back memories of his time with her in heaven.

“I'll ask Charlie about what happened up there later but for now, I'll take a moment to process this.” He says with a small sigh. Slipping the folded paper back into the envelope.

Lucifer sighs as he gently places the envelope back on his table, walking to his balcony. Eyes staring up into the smoky red skies of hell, devoid of any moon and stars.

He used to stargaze with her when he was still in heaven.

[y/n] was his moon, who shines during his darkest days.

Waving his finger in the air, specks of golden dust flickers out of his fingers. Forming a crescent moon.

Lucifer leans into the railings, eyes staring at the faux moon he created.

“Moon, tell me if I could...” Lucifer softly sang, eyes tired but hopeful. “Send up my heart to you...?” he asked softly, unfortunately no one answered.

A bit of a timeskip....

It has been a few months since Charlie's visit here in heaven and the next extermination is getting closer by the day. Emily and I are still trying to look for ways to help Charlie.

Sera adores Emily, I am sure that she wouldn't get punished. I on the other hand, Sera has been keeping a close eye on me. Criticizing me. Lute being tasked to watch my every move.

“Sera, this is utterly ridiculous! We should give those poor souls a second chance.” [Y/n] says, clenching her fists as she looked at Sera who was sitting on her chair inside the Seraphim office.

“That is enough, [y/n]. You keep this up and you'll end up fallen like Lucifer.” Sera said sternly, eyes glaring at the [y/n]. “You barely managed to escape that fate before, you could've fallen the same time as Lucifer but thankfully your actions weren't as severe as his.”

[y/n] slammed her fists against the table, angel eyes appearing on her wings with fury, “We aren't God, Sera! Who gave you the right to judge those sinners and claim they don't deserve a second chance?” she exclaimed.

Sera stood up from her seat, anger evident on her face. “Don't you dare raise your voice at me! You're on thin ice, [y/n]!”

[y/n] rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over chest, “What are you going to do? Huh? Kick me out of heaven?”

Sera's glare sharpened, patience running thin. “Keep that attitude up and you just might.”

“Lucifer doesn't deserve this treatment! You cursed him to not see the good of people! You cursed the people who have a chance to redeem themselves by taking their life! How does it feel that so much blood is spilled because of your decision?!” [y/n] asked angrily, tears running down her cheeks.

“We have our own souls to protect! This decision wasn't easy to make!” Sera remarked angrily, her wings spread out intimidatingly.

“Protect them from what?! As far as I know, it's only us angels who are a threat to them? If they do something that doesn't fit your standards or the elder's standards they are bound to fall from grace!” [y/n] says mockingly, rage and annoyance evident on both women's eyes.

“That's it, you've crossed the line!”

“You don't want to admit that I am right, angels are such selfish, greedy, and filthy creatures. I cannot believe I am associated with beings whose hands are stained with blood.”

You know, falling doesn't seem so bad.

Strong and harsh winds are blowing against my back, thankfully I still have my wings. It is currently useless, unfortunately. I don't have the energy to flap them to save myself from the approaching pain.

After that argument with Sera, the higher seraphim thought I was already way out of line and disrespectful. I was placed on trial, handcuffed with the type of handcuffs that prevents me from using my angelic powers while it simultaneously sucked the energy out of me.

I was deemed guilty, shameful, and ungrateful and a threat to the order of heaven.

Tossed out of the pearly gates of heaven by none other than Adam, that asshole really grabbed me by the hair.

[y/n] sighs softly, vision blurring. Trying to focus it as she falls from grace. The skies looked so beautiful.

Lucifer would've loved these skies, we've stargazed during the night before. When he was still in heaven with me.

Lucifer, I can see Ursa Major tonight. Someday, I'll bring you back here on the surface and stargaze like we've always do. No matter how many stars are in the sky, you always take my attention. You're like my star, you shine so bright and so pure.

I'll join you in the pits of hell, I hope you didn't forget about me.

I should be happy that I'm finally leaving that god awful place.

Why am I so scared of falling to my demise?

For a moment, I can see a glimpse of how Lucifer felt when he fell from grace.

Terrifying.

[Y/n] closes her eyes as she finally goes past the Earth's crust. Ichor flowing out of her hands from the handcuffs she had to wear.

“I am not allowed to die, I still need to see him.” [y/n] murmurs before eventually crashing into the fiery grounds of hell, she fortunately crashed somewhere where there weren't any people, a wide space of nothing but dead trees, a hotel can be seen in the distance.

Pain, pain shot everywhere her body. She let out a sharp scream of pure pain. Blood spilled everywhere before she eventually passed out.

It didn't matter, the pain didn't matter. She's here now. She'll look for him or Charlie.

She doesn't know Charlie would find her first.

END NOTES: YUHHH THEY'LL SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN IN THE NEXT UPDATEE

TAGLIST:

@n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @luleck @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya (I can't tag you </3) @many-fandoms-lover

[ceesimz]

Who falls in love in November?

part 2 of this, also known as the happy ending everyone wanted :)

Alexia had three days remaining of her time in Menorca after you left. Never in her life had a vacation been so miserable.

Even without you there, her head was constantly on a swivel when she was out, hoping she’d turn a corner and you were there waiting for her. She was withdrawn from social occasions with friends, stuck in her head thinking about how much she wished you were by her side.

But it wasn’t going to happen. It didn’t happen.

And to top it all off, she had no evidence you even existed aside from the book you gifted her, as if you were merely a figure of her imagination. A daydream she didn’t want to come out of. It was simultaneously the best and worst summer of her life, because she had you, and then she didn’t. You slipped out of her grasp before she could do anything about it, and that fact was eating her up inside. 

To be honest, as she boarded her plane home, she had never been so grateful for a vacation to end. She slumped into her seat after storing away her suitcase and sighed heavily, looking out of the window of the place that she currently held mixed feelings about. The whole island was tainted by you and the memories that remained. At the thought, she slammed the window cover shut. It was a pitiful attempt to shove you out of her mind; to be fair to her, it worked for a few seconds. Except, when she reached into her backpack by her feet, her hand grabbed something and pulled it out.

Your book. The only thing that remained of your relationship. 

Relationship? Could it be classed as that? Probably not. But what else could she call it? The greatest mistake of her life?

Since she opened the first page the night you gave it to her, she had probably read the note there a hundred times. And so what if she had traced the curvature of your handwriting with her finger as her eyes burned with tears that night? You weren’t there to see it, that’s the only thing that mattered to her. 

This book means a lot to me, and from all the wonderful things I know about you so far, I think you’ll like it too. We haven’t known each other for very long but I hope that changes because you’ve already had a better effect on me than anyone I have ever met, and for that I am so grateful. Let me know when you finish it.

That last sentence, as well as the accompanying smiley face that was exactly the same as the one you had drawn on another note to her a few days prior, mocked her. She couldn’t reach you if she tried. She only had your first name and the city you lived in, there was nothing to go off of if she attempted to find you. The worst part of it all is that you could be her neighbour for all she knows, but the only thing she could do was hope that your worlds aligned sooner rather than later. You could live in the apartment right beside hers, or above it, or below. The possibilities were endless and it killed her. 

Maybe it was sad and pathetic, but she couldn’t bring herself to read the story. There had been one attempt so far, and it only resulted in a throbbing headache, puffy red eyes, and a damp pillow. Another sigh left her lips as she dropped it back into her bag and zipped it up with more aggression than necessary, earning a strange glance from the flight attendant that walked past her just as she did so. 

A little while passed before the plane got ready for take-off, and ever the rule-stickler, Alexia took one of her earphones out as the safety video played out. At that point, she realised just how screwed she was, because she couldn’t even look at a life vest on a fucking plane without thinking back to that day with you on the boat.

“Qué coño estoy haciendo?” She grumbled under her breath, slipping her earphone back in and resting her head back against the seat, eyes closed. 

Unfortunately, that was a question she would repeat to herself a hell of a lot the following months. Because, really, not a day passed by without her thoughts being infiltrated by those days with you. The second she closed her eyes at night, she saw your face. When she woke up in the morning, she wished you were beside her, even despite the fact she had never once shared a bed with you.

At one point, sometime in September, she even found herself going along to one of Mapi’s dinners in Barcelona that she always planned. Alexia had been invited to every single one in the past few years since the defender had started organising them with her closest friends, but the blonde had only attended a handful in that time. Her attendance for this one was solely for the purpose of seeing you. 

However, you didn’t show up.

There was one chair at the end of the table empty, and though no one ever took it, Alexia couldn’t tear her eyes away. She had a vacant expression on her face throughout the whole duration of the evening, forcing a smile when she had to and keeping her responses short. The people there that didn’t know her too well were probably a little weirded out, but Mapi could see heartbreak in her eyes and the realisation of what likely happened brought a frown to her face. She didn’t want to intrude on a situation she knew Alexia would prefer to keep private, but it hurt to see her friend so down like she was. 

Only one conversation topic truly piqued her interest that evening. Near the end of the night, someone asked why you weren’t there. The single mention of your name had her heart racing.

“-has gone to England to see her family for a while.” 

The person talking, who Alexia assumed was your friend, went on a bit more about your whereabouts, but the blonde had tuned out of it as soon as she heard that you weren’t even in the country, nevermind the city. 

She had the urge to just get up and walk out of the restaurant there and then at the news, but she was here, at a restaurant with alcohol available to her, and instead she decided to throw her personal laws out the window for the night and have a few drinks. They didn’t numb the pain, in fact they probably made it more prominent. Alarm bells were ringing in Mapi’s head at the sight of her friend with an alcoholic drink in her hand, especially since the new season had just started, and she waited until everyone was leaving to bring it up.

“Ale, Ale, espera.” The shorter woman lightly grabbed her friend by the arm just as she started the walk back to her apartment. “Qué passa?”

“No, Mapi.” Alexia mumbled, shaking her head and continuing to walk. Mapi kept up the pace beside her, allowing the silence to sit for a bit, before the older woman sniffled a little. 

“Oye. Habla, ahora.” Mapi demanded, halting their movements on the sidewalk as Alexia kept her head down.

“No es importante.” Alexia shrugged dismissively, opting out of looking at Mapi and instead observing the streets she had walked all of her life. Ones that you have probably walked too.

“Es importante!” Mapi argued, before she pushed down her frustration and addressed her captain much more calmly. “Si estás así de triste, es muy importante, Alexia.”

“Stop, Mapi! Leave it, it has nothing to do with you.” Alexia snapped, before turning away and heading back in the direction of her flat. 

The fact she slipped into English, now of all times, told Mapi everything she needed to know. Things hadn’t gone smoothly between you and Alexia. Whatever happened, Mapi would stay out of it until she was needed. That didn’t mean she was any less disappointed at it though. Not at you, or Alexia, because regardless of what had or hadn’t gone on, she didn’t blame you and she knows neither of you would have blamed each other too. Whatever had occurred was left in the hands of the world to sort it out.

Though, if she had known it was just a miscommunication that could have been easily solved, she would have grabbed you both by the ears and lectured you to no end. 

The truth is, if Alexia wasn’t so stuck in her misery and just read the book given to her, all of her problems would have been solved. In her opinion, if she did read it, it would just mean finding out more about you that she couldn’t have. But, as a matter of fact, getting to the end of the story would give her the one thing she wanted all along.

By the time November rolled around, Alexia and the rest of the Barcelona team were well into the season in most competitions already. The league was going well, they had won the two Champion’s League games so far, and they had just beaten Real Madrid in the first game of the fifth, albeit unofficial, infamous competition of the season- El Clásico.

A win like that always had to be celebrated, and none of the blaugrana players were going to pass up a night of partying in Barcelona afterwards. 

There was just one small thing Mapi failed to tell Alexia before they arrived at the club, however.

—

Your life after that vacation didn’t really change. The only noticeable difference was the heartache and the anguish you felt after arriving home that no one would understand. In secret you met, in silence you have to grieve. 

Except, your pain wasn’t quite the same as Alexia’s. Hers surely had an expiration date, she would get over you at some point. Yours would only get stronger the longer you spent apart from her, the anxiety turning the scenario you were in from a nightmare into a reality.

You had no doubts that Alexia was a busy person, so for a few weeks, you gave her the benefit of the doubt when it came to reading. But a few weeks turned into a month, then one turned into two, and before you knew it, it was November. Maybe she didn’t want to see you again after all, maybe those few days were enough for her.

That summer felt like a lifetime ago, an out of this world experience that was nothing more than a dream. But it was real, you know it was, because you still feel the phantom touch of her lips on your shoulder and the comfortable warmth of her hand in yours. You still remember every detail about her, like the moles on her face and the depth to her hazel eyes, or the tattoos on her back and the strength of her arms when she embraced you. Not even your wildest dreams could have created such a person like Alexia. She was more than anything you could have wished for.

Perhaps you could have searched her up online, the blonde was apparently a prominent public figure after all, so it probably wasn’t that hard to find out more about her. You didn’t want to do that though, in the weirdest way, it would feel like invading her privacy. What could be found online was most likely not a true representation of her. Though she wasn’t yours anymore, and she never really was in the first place, you knew the media’s perception of her would be so different to who she actually was, and indulging in that would be a disservice to the woman you had the honour to love, even if that was for just a week.

In your time since Menorca, you had gone back to your normal life like nothing had happened. As if nothing had changed outwardly, when internally, everything had changed. You had been introduced to the true beauty of life, what it means to feel seen, only to have it ripped away from you. And maybe it was your fault that it wasn’t yours to experience anymore. If you could go back in time to that final moment in the bar, you would have done everything differently, especially if you had known it would end like this.

At some point in September, the city you loved became nothing but a mental challenge. Alexia could be anywhere, yet in your opinion, there was no morally correct way to try and find her. It all got too much, and you had to escape. Going back to England seemed like a good idea at first, however in hindsight, it just made things worse. Somehow it made the pain, regret, sorrow, it made all of it reach new heights. During the taxi ride back to your apartment in Barcelona afterwards, there were tears in your eyes that hardly left for the next two months. No matter what you tried, you couldn’t get her out of your mind, even though you were probably long gone from hers.

A night out in the city sounded perfect suddenly, in November. One mention of it from a friend of a friend, and you were in. There was some special occasion apparently, according to María, but you didn’t care that much to pay attention. All you knew was that the club was booked for you all, there was a ticket with your name on it, and alcohol waiting for you.

Only, you didn’t expect to meet a familiar pair of eyes at the bar a few hours into the night. 

“Ale?” You whispered under your breath at the sight of the woman a few metres to your right, leaning against the bar with a near empty beer bottle in her hand. 

With the music thumping throughout the club, there was no way she heard you. But her eyes averted to her left anyway, and they landed straight on you. Her entire body froze, eyes wide whilst the rest of her face seemed void of emotion. It was hard to get a read on her and considering there was a fair amount of alcohol in your system by this point, it wasn’t surprising when the anxiety took over and made you doubt everything. 

Did she still feel the same way about you? Was there already somebody else for her? Maybe you didn’t mean as much to her as she did to you. There were probably thousands of other people she could have, when you took her supposed stardom into account. The scale of her fame was still a mystery to you, but at that moment it was too overwhelming to think about. What business did she have falling in love with someone who was nothing more than a fly on the wall?

Nobody ever noticed you, you were just there. Alexia was… Alexia. There weren’t enough words in any and all languages to describe what a person she was. 

Unbeknownst to you, Alexia was freaking out too. Not in the way one would initially expect, though; there was one overwhelming feeling for her that wasn’t fear or anxiety, it was relief. Complete, utter, all-consuming relief, because you were right in front of her. Within arms reach, basically. Despite all the possibilities that could occur from here on out, she was just happy to see you. 

However, her face hadn’t changed in the time the pair of you had been staring at each other agasp for the past however long, and it didn’t change as she cautiously took a few steps closer to you. With each step she took, your anxiety grew. It grew and grew, until she was about a metre away, and it reached its peak.

In true anxiety fashion, the fight or flight kicked in.

A proper glance at her face and you were breathless, and not in the swooning, romantic way, but instead out of pure panic. The club was too loud, too restricting and suffocating, and the only option that seemed plausible was getting the hell out. You didn’t care about the people you bumped into, or the voice shouting after you. The situation that confronted you back at the bar was more than you could handle and it seemed to be an insurmountable challenge that you weren’t quite prepared for. 

In your mind, Alexia was done with you. The heartbreak was tearing through you already and had been for months now, you didn’t need a run in with her to increase that, and you definitely didn’t want closure. Too long had passed, you had grown content with the realisation that she had moved on seamlessly.

It took a matter of seconds for Alexia to lose sight of you in the crowded room, and what didn’t help was the sudden barrage of teammates that seemed determined to drag her to the dancefloor. They were buzzing off their copious amounts of alcohol compared to her one bottle of beer, completely unaware of the turmoil she was going through due to the winning high they were still riding. She saw the disappointed look on their faces as she brushed them off and it hurt for a moment, before she remembered the situation she was in, and then the celebrations were forgotten entirely. 

The moment she exited the club, she spotted you outside the next building over, a restaurant with outdoor seating that was closed due to the late hour. You were sat in one of the chairs there, head in your hands with a leg bouncing out of intense anxiety. Alexia knew she was the reason for your current state, it didn’t take a genius to figure that out, but she also didn’t want to leave you alone when you were so clearly worked up. If you pushed her away, fine, she’d leave. She just wanted to try first.

As she prudently walked over to you with a few gentle calls of your name, like she were approaching a skittish animal, you glanced through your fingers to find the one person at the centre of your anxiety approaching you. Rather than tell her to leave, or get everything off your chest in a ‘screw you’ way, or simply pretend she didn’t exist, you removed your hands and sat up like you weren’t just having an anxiety attack. Your people-pleasing habit had no boundaries. 

“Are… are you okay?” Alexia asked softly, standing a few feet in front of you with her hands, that itched to reach out and comfort you, holding onto the chair behind her which she leaned on just as an excuse to nervously fidget with something not too obvious. 

“I will be.” You gave her a tight-lipped smile that you paired with a quick sniffle and a brush away of the tears on your cheeks. 

To anyone else, this whole situation probably seemed ridiculous and unnecessary. Why not just exchange details in the first place? Why not ask Mapi, a mutual friend, for the other person’s details? There were so many seemingly obvious solutions and ways this could have been prevented. 

But love isn’t so simple. It’s a risk to take, a fact that often goes unacknowledged and underappreciated. Especially when your heart has already been broken and stuck back together so many times, it’s hard to hand it over again. It is a delicate organ, the only one other than the brain that has the ability to feel, to hold sentiment and adoration. 

There’s no rhyme or reason as to why people decide to harm it, but Alexia isn’t one of those people. She’d take your damaged goods and glue them back together with gold if she could, and you’d do the same for her. When all is said and done, there is no blame or resentment present, just guilt and regret. Your souls are too pure for hatred, they’re professionals at harbouring love for those around no matter what, and it’s evident with the way you both treat each other, despite all the unspoken sorrow and devastation individually experienced during all these months. 

A week of pure, whole-hearted, unconditional love was worth all the months of anguish. That was an easy conclusion both of you had come to somewhere along the way.

“I…” There was so much that Alexia wanted to say, but she had no idea how to verbalise any of it or where to even start. She believed that nothing she could say would live up to the moment. 

“We don’t have to do this, Ale.” You decided for her. Your words exuded a confidence that wasn’t there at all, and you figured that it was probably evident in your anxiety-filled appearance, but what’s the harm in trying. 

“Do what?” Alexia replied with her face scrunched in fearful confusion. Ale. She had missed you saying that. 

“Do the awkward back and forth whilst ignoring the fact we fell in love four months ago.” 

It hurt to admit it out loud. 

For months, this pain had been nothing but an internal one, hidden in the background of your thoughts at all points of the day whilst the world around you was none the wiser. The only external signs of such an event were the mascara stains on your pillow after a night of crying and the tear tracks engraved onto your cheeks when walking into work the next day.

You fell in love four months ago. And the person you were still in love with stood before you. But time had passed, and perhaps that love had to be left behind. 

“Maybe I don’t want to ignore that.” Alexia’s shoulders were up in a shrug for a few moments, her heart beating away so fast in her chest that a pit of nausea had formed at the sentence she had just uttered. You looked up at her through tears that glistened in the street lamps, a glint of hope in your eyes that you loathed. In just one statement, you were wrapped around her finger again. 

“What do you mean?” You questioned firmly, voice distant despite the crack in the middle of it.

“Maybe… I am still in love with you.” 

Laughter wasn’t quite the response Alexia was expecting, especially spiteful laughter. Disapproving laughter with anger so clear in its undertones. 

“How can you say that after you’ve obviously moved on? After I’ve heard nothing from you all these months?” You scoffed. Your pent-up exasperation wasn’t even at Alexia, she just so happened to be there and saying all the wrong things to act as the catalyst for the eruption.

No, the anger was entirely at yourself. You opened up your heart to someone you knew you couldn’t have, and still had the audacity to be so hurt by the anticipated turn of events. Alexia was never to blame, it was you. 

“What? I don't understand.” Alexia retorted, and it’s unexplainably hard to continue your onslaught of misdirected blame when there’s so much pain in her voice.

“You had so much time to contact me, and yet you didn’t. I can read the room, Ale, I can tell when I’m not wanted, and I get it.” The fight left you then, your body deflating of all its tension as you curled back into yourself. 

“I had no way to get to you! I don’t get it, cariño, I really don’t, because I have loved you still all these months and I missed you, and if I did have a way to get to you, I would have taken it because I have lost myself after losing you!” 

“Oh, so I just gave you my favourite book with my number in the back of it for no reason then?” You scoffed once more, shaking your head as you willed the tears away once more.

Just a few feet in front of you, Alexia was going through about a million different emotions, thoughts, feelings, all that good stuff, at once. Her head was spinning, dizzy at the gravity of what you just said. 

“I didn’t read your book.” Alexia whispered, her voice quiet and dripping with awe, still stuck in regretful astonishment at the fact the solution to everything had been under her hands all this time. 

Your number, in the back of the book that was right beside her bed. She had you right under her fingertips and she didn’t even know it. 

“What do you mean?” You asked in the same tone.

“I could not bring myself to read it because I missed you too much. Your number is really in the back? You are not doing some… some cruel joke?”

As if you’d ever.

“No! I swear, I wrote it in there that night in the bar when I gave it to you. I thought you saw me write in it!” You exclaimed, overcome with all sorts of emotions at the new revelation. 

It had been a stupid mishap, nothing more. No malicious intent on either side, no animosity (aside from the last few minutes), and most of all, throughout this whole thing, there had been no love lost. It was just a mutual misunderstanding. That label felt too simple for all the turmoil that had occurred, yet at the same time, an exhilarating amount of relief came with it which soon overrode the seething irritation that flashed by. The possibility of exploring a relationship with Alexia was so much more thrilling to focus on than all that could be different.

There was no use in dwelling on what could have been if this mistake hadn’t happened. Far too often have you done that in the past, and it’s never gotten you anywhere. Alexia had done the same during those lonesome nights after hours spent in the presence of thousands of people in stadiums across the world - going from being surrounded by countless adoring fans to nothing but overwhelming silence was something she had struggled with. It opened up a world of vulnerabilities for her, as she thought and thought and thought until the mental exertion exhausted her and she finally fell asleep. 

Something that came with her ACL injury was the introduction of a psychologist, and it had forced her to change so many aspects of her life for the better. Like in this scenario now, where just like you, she wanted to disregard what hasn’t happened, and instead focus on the moment, and all the amazing things that could happen. Because, really, what was standing in her way apart from the threat of a road not taken? And the best thing of all, is that with one look in your eye, she knew you felt the same.

She knew you wanted the simplicity, rather than making it more difficult for yourselves which had happened already since that last goodbye in the bar. Once the realisation settled, the only thing left to do was acknowledge that fact.

“I didn’t. I didn’t see you write in the back, only the front.” Alexia murmured, pausing for a few seconds as the pair of you fell silent. 

The pulse of the music could be faintly heard, as could the distant chatter of people passing by, but none of that mattered when the prospect of the future hung within reach between you both. It was that that had Alexia turning the chair she held onto around and slumping down into it out of shock. The adrenaline had run its course, and now it left a tranquil euphoria, a brewing excitement that took its time to build. 

“So… you haven’t moved on.” You said about a minute later, holding back a smile that broke out anyway when Alexia laughed at it all. 

“No. Not at all.” 

Words seemed a little useless from then on. There were coy smiles on each of your faces afterwards, when everything had been hashed out and made clear despite it being slightly overdue. The only thing you could do was stand from your chair, walk the short distance that separated you both, and gaze down expectantly at Alexia. She stood too, the tables turning so that she was the one looking down now, but that didn’t matter for long, because before you knew it, her arms were back around you and embracing you so tightly that your feet lifted off the ground. You laughed into her neck, which in turn made her laugh too, and then the pair of you were just a mess in each other's arms. 

It felt like someone had come along and stoked the fire in your heart again. The coldness that had settled in your bones at some point during the last months was gone, instead it had been replaced with the love you’d lacked for too long. This time, it didn’t have a time limit, you were free to relish in the fact that from this day on, there was always going to be someone on your side, a person there just for you. And there was a certain level of pride that came in knowing you were going to be that for Alexia too, because the way she held you so close to her heart, metaphorically and in this moment literally too, told you enough about how she felt. 

When you leaned back and looked up at her, you saw the future in her eyes, one that didn’t seem so dauntingly alone and gloomy. There were also tears there too, to your surprise, and it only amplified what you knew about her already; she was made for you. She loved you.

“Please tell me I will not lose you for a second time. I cannot do that again.” She admitted the secret quietly, and before you had even found the words to answer her, the admission was stored away safely in your soul. 

“No, you won’t. I… I think I need you, Ale.” You told her, closing your eyes as you rested your forehead against hers. You sensed the relieving sigh that Alexia let out and shared how she felt; at peace.

“I need you too.” Alexia mumbled in reply, her voice cracking with emotion that for once isn’t drowning her, instead, she feels more alive right now than she had since summer. “Te extrañé mucho. Mucho.” 

You smiled. A genuine one, with no layers or falsity to it. You smiled because you could, because Alexia and all she was in that moment allowed you to feel worth your weight in gold, something that hardly ever came naturally to you. But with the blonde woman holding you so tentatively, firm in her love despite her fears, you owed it to her to provide the reaction her character brought out. 

“I missed you a lot too.” You breathed out, years worth of inadequacy and shame leaving you as you did so. “I’m sorry for causing all this. And for-”

“Why are you apologising?” Alexia cut you off, pulling back from the embrace as her hands gently landed on your shoulders and the frown you had strangely missed came out in full force.

“Because I just made all this so difficult and caused you so much pain for no reason, I should have thought it through more and n-”

“No, don’t.” She shook her head and tugged you back in, her arms around your shoulders and a hand on the back of your head with her thumb stroking up and down comfortingly. “Don’t take yourself down that road. Do not place blame on yourself when there is none there. Please don’t. It is not your fault.” 

All you could do at that was nod into her chest. Alexia’s advice hadn’t failed you thus far, so why stop listening to it now.

“I’m so glad I found you again. In a club of all places.” You said, giggling into her shoulder as she chuckled. 

“I didn’t know you would be here.” Alexia stated, keeping her hands on your waist as her eyes were wide and adoring as they moved all over your face, almost as if she was in disbelief that she was really with you.

“María invited me, I don’t normally come to these things, but… I guess it’s a good job I did.” You replied bashfully, Alexia nodding immediately and making you laugh once more. “She said it was a big occasion or something? I don’t know, but it must be pretty big if the whole club is booked out.”

“It is a big thing. For us, anyway. I…” She glanced up at the building she was in earlier and her smile faltered a little. She was caught in two minds; she wanted to spend time with you, now that you were in her arms she didn’t want to let you out of her sight, but she also had made commitments to be here with her team tonight. It was an abnormality for her to agree to a night like this, but the excitement and the pleading from her teammates made her give in, and their joy at her attendance made it worth it. “The team won a big game earlier, so they wanted to celebrate. I don’t go to these things too. They begged me, so I should probably go back to them.”

“Okay.” You said, trying to disguise the dejection burning through you. Her hands gripped your sides a little tighter, like she knew what her words had done anyway.

“Will you come back in? With me?” She asked hopefully.

“I don’t know, I don’t want to intrude on your time with your team, especially if it’s a big celebra-”

You were interrupted once more, but there wasn’t exactly any complaining from your side. Alexia’s palms were cradling your cheeks, fingertips light and warm on your soft skin, and in much the same way as she did after that first date, she kissed you. Firmly and fervently, months worth of longing reaching its peak and crumbling with each movement of your lips. It was just as mind-numbing as you remembered- you’d thought a lot about those few kisses in Menorca and how you hadn’t had enough. There was no way you could ever wait that long for one again.

“You will not ‘intrude’ on us, I promise. If I could, I would take you on a date right now, but they will be angry if I do. When you are around, there’s no one else I want to spend time with.” Her eyes bored into yours as she held your face securely in her hands, ensuring you couldn’t look anywhere but at her and take in the honesty of her words. “I want you there. You.”

“I’ll go with you.” You responded like you were in a trance. You basically were: entranced by the affirmation that she wants you and you only. The blonde grinned and ducked down again to kiss you, more than content to revel in your touch now that she has you again. 

After that, Alexia took your hand tight in hers and led you back into the club. You trailed behind her, happy to follow her lead, blushing each time she looked back at you with her charming smile that overflowed with utter joy, until you found yourselves back in the main area of the club. Understandably, the vast group of people you didn’t recognise, probably Alexia’s teammates, were partying hard together. There were people on each others’ shoulders, drinks being spilt, some rather abysmal and slurred singing, and a number of new faces that lit up when they saw Alexia again. 

“Some of them are a bit loco. You will get used to them.” Alexia said into your ear, and when she moved back to gauge your reaction, she instantly recognised the uncertainty in your expression. Her arm curled around your waist, her lips pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and she gave a reassuring smile. “I will be with you, I’m not going anywhere.”

Like always, she stuck to her promise. Not for a second did she leave your side as she celebrated, introduced you to her teammates, and hardly took her eyes off you. Some part of her was always touching you, whether that be her arm around your shoulders, her hand brushing against hers as a finger linked with yours, a palm resting on your lower back as she guided you through the bustling room. And though it took some time to settle into the crowdedness, you eventually found yourself joining in with her teammates as they danced and took you in like one of their own.

Throughout the night, the blonde midfielder couldn’t hold back the smile on her face. Watching you fit right in with the people she considered family, whilst knowing to some degree how much you struggled with these things, flooded her with so much admiration and appreciation for you. It reached a new level, and though it was something she didn’t understand, each second she spent with you she felt herself falling more and more in love. Even if you did say ridiculous things like…

“You know what my favourite thing is about football? When you guys sit there at the side with your little blankets like the grandparents from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” 

She might have rolled her eyes at the declaration, but somehow she adored you impossibly more after it. Especially when the group of her teammates you were with burst out laughing at it, some firing off into teasing arguments at it as you turned to Alexia and gave her a beaming smile at the reaction. Before any of the others could wrap you up in a conversation again, she simply took your hand like she did earlier and walked you both over to the bar. Mapi, who had been part of that group and had almost passed out from pure elation when she saw the pair of you walk in together at the start of the night, watched you leave and nudged Ingrid vigorously. The poor Norwegian had been subject to all of the defender’s speculation and conspiracies of what had transpired between her two friends, and the dark-haired woman wasn’t sure if it was that or the current overwhelming excitement of her girlfriend that was worse. 

Alexia ordered new drinks for you both at the bar, before turning to where you stood beside her and smiling softly down at you. You entertained her gaze, mirroring her smile as you waited for her to speak. But instead of doing so, she moved to stand behind you and tugged you back against her while her arms enveloped you completely. Her chin found home on your shoulder, her heart bursting at the seams when she heard you let out a content sigh. She turned her face into your neck then, discreetly scattering kisses up and down the skin there. 

“Ale, what are you doing? All your teammates are here.” You told her quietly, leaning back into her and covering her arms with yours.

“Me da igual. Tendrás que perdonarme por ser tan pegajosa, pero no puedo apartar los ojos ni las manos de ti.” Alexia murmured, reaching around to grab her glass and take a sip from it, before focusing her attention back to you by kissing you. Her lips were cold from the ice of her drink, but they quickly warmed up against yours as she indulged in the kiss without a care for her surroundings. It was only when your drink was placed on the wood of the bar that she broke it off, smirking down at you and the blush to your cheeks. 

If this was how she was going to act, you didn’t want the night to end. 

Fortunately for you, it didn’t. Something you had learnt over the years was that the Spanish knew how to have a good night, and this was no different. The music kept coming, the euphoria kept running, and the dancing didn’t stop for a second. As the hours went on, Alexia came more and more out of her shell, and you saw a new side of her that made you weak at the knees. 

Her actions got bolder as her inhibitions left her, and if she was clingy before, that only increased. Even when she substituted her alcohol for water, as did you, her affection continued to pour out. You were more than happy to revel in all she had to give. This was what you had longed for since the summer, and it still felt surreal that you were here right now. 

Seeing Alexia so carefree and happy sparked the same feelings in you, it willed you to be just as open and unabashed in your joy, and it was fastly turning into one of the best times of your life because of it. But there were other feelings too, ones that were becoming quite unavoidable as they built up throughout the evening. And when the celebrations somehow amped up, there was a certain level of acknowledgement between you and Alexia. Your eyes communicated that to each other, coy smiles shared between you both in anticipation.

The pair of you continued to dance together, none the wiser to the partying around you anymore. You were more than content to stay in your own little bubble, allowing the tense thrill to grow whilst waiting for the other to make the first move. Unsurprisingly, it was Alexia who cracked, her next actions conveying the desperation that fizzed between the two of you. 

“I think I said I had to make it up to you after our first date, no?” She hummed from behind you, one arm around your stomach as the other brushed your hair from your neck so that she could attach her lips to your pulse as she awaited your answer.

“Yes. Please.” The second word slipped out unknowingly, only realising what you had said after Alexia smirked into your skin. Her confidence radiated from her, and you took it and ran with it. “Don’t act like you don’t need it too, la reina.”

“Don’t call me that.” She grumbled and you turned in her hold with a raised eyebrow, your arms linking around her neck. 

“What would you like instead?” You challenged, feeling her hands tighten their grasp just slightly.

“You know. Ale. Alexia.” You hummed and nodded, leaning a little closer and kissing her jaw on your way to placing your lips beside her ear.

“And where would you prefer me to call you that? Here, in this club where you can hardly hear me with your friends all around? Or in your apartment, in your bed?” 

It was that final question from you that had her breathing in sharply and leading you out of the club for the final time that night. Earlier, when you left in a rush, you were wracked with anxiety and self-doubt. Now, you laughed with the woman you loved as she flagged down a taxi and clambered in behind you. She listed off her address as you gazed meekly at her from your seat, heart eyes so glaringly obvious despite the dim light of the car. Granted, she could probably feel your stare more than she could see it, though there wasn’t much else that the midfielder wanted to focus her attention on. 

She smirked and shook her head when she noticed, her hand travelling across the middle seat and reaching its destination on your thigh. You placed your own over it, squeezing it once and averting your eyes to the city’s scenery that passed by, unable to maintain your infatuated look due to the overloading feeling of ardour that reinforced itself every time the footballer was in your vicinity. 

Throughout the car ride to Alexia’s apartment, it was majoritively silent, bar the deafening beating of your heart in your ears that grew in its volume the closer you got. The driver’s GPS sounded out as he parked outside the building, and Alexia rushed to pay him before getting out and offering her hand to you. You took it with a shy grin, swinging it between you both as you made your way inside.

Back at the club, the tension was palpable and unmistakably charged. However, it had taken a turn during the short journey. Now it was teeming with nerves, both aware of what faces you when you step foot in that apartment. There’s exhilaration and simmering desire too due to how much you want it, it was something that had been thought about individually late at night. Ultimately, this would add a whole new layer to the growing relationship, and neither of you wanted to wait a second longer to be able to savour the aftermath and the moment. 

And in the end, it was inexplicably better than you could have imagined. Once the initial awkwardness wore off, the desperation took over and gave the night a tale to tell. You hadn’t experienced anything like it– it was tentative and ineffably intimate and something you wouldn’t forget. It was perfect. 

Most importantly, it didn’t leave you in a pit of anxiety afterwards. Being able to freely relish in the moment when it was over in the comforting hold of the figure you loved so wholly was something you appreciated greatly. Words wouldn’t do it justice, what it meant to you. All you could do was return the benevolence handed to you on a silver platter and hope that Alexia understood the gravity behind your actions. 

The sheets covered your sated bodies, you with your head on her chest as her arms held you securely and sincerely, and they rustled when she reached over into her bedside table for something. You leaned up a little in confusion, watching her curiously as she searched around the drawer, only to pull out the bane of your existence.

“What are you doing with that?” You asked humorously, nestling back down into the warm, sturdy body beneath you. 

She had gotten out your book. With a hum, she opened it and flicked to the back page. There she found your number, written clearly just as you had told her. 

“I don’t believe it.” Alexia mumbled, one of her fingers tracing the ink there. “It really was there.”

Quietly, without disrupting the serenity of the room that had settled, you took it from her hands and dropped it onto the table on your side. Then you turned back to her, brushing some strands of hair from her face as you rested upon your elbows and cupped her face. You looked at her with a pointed gaze, leaning down to place a slow, meaningful kiss to her lips, before pulling back.

“Forget about that. We’re here now.” You whispered, thumbs stroking softly over her cheekbones as she accepted your words, willing herself out of that regretful mindset. Because she had you, right where she wanted you.

“We’re here now.” She repeated with a loving smile, one you instantly reciprocated as you nodded at her response.

On a night like this, there wasn’t much else that needed to be said. So you laid back down then, on your side as Alexia copied your position with the covers pulled up to your shoulders, face to face and barely able to make out each other’s features in the dark room. 

That book, the one you nervously handed over to Alexia back in Menorca, was possibly one of the most revealing things you had done. It didn’t quite go the way you expected it to go, but it didn’t matter in the end. You got the result you wanted and it was so much better than you anticipated. There was still a lot to learn, about each other and the lives you led, though nothing felt unaccomplishable now that you had Alexia on your team. 

Alexia didn’t quite know when your book had moved from the top of the table into the drawer, but it probably had something to do with how much it hurt to look at. It still didn’t fill her with the best thoughts whenever she saw it. She had no doubts that you being with her now would change that. She could see herself reading it in the near future, with you on the opposite end of the sofa, your feet in her lap as she got a glimpse into your soul. New memories could be made with it, and even right now, despite the grievances she had with it, it was still something she treasured deeply and she knew that would only become more true as time went on. 

In your current position, you could just make out how deeply she was looking at you. There were a lot of things swirling around those favourite eyes of yours, but it was the insecurities there that you hadn’t noticed previously which caught your attention. Wordlessly, you willed her to voice them, and she did.

“Things might get difficult sometimes.” She began, and you acknowledged it with a gentle nod and a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “There is… a lot that comes with my job that I do not enjoy. I am afraid it will come between us.”

You could only guess what she meant. Finding out exactly what that was, was a task for another day. Right now, she needed your belief and your assurances, you knew that.

“I don’t care about that. As long as you promise that I’ll have you, then I don’t care about anything else. I only need you, that’s all. The rest is just background noise.” You told her, pleased to see those doubts dissipate before you, her whole body language changing as it did.

“You do. You do have me. I promise.” Alexia stated firmly, quietly sighing out of relief and exhaustion.

The day was beginning to take its toll on her. It had been pretty packed, with a full game of fiercely competitive football, partying, a whole load of emotions, and the events afterwards that had gotten her to this point. Sleep didn’t come so easily to you, even after all that had happened. You gladly took the extra time to rake your eyes over Alexia’s face, who seemed so at peace as she began to drift off. There was a brief moment where you envied that fact, but you shoved that thought away as quick as it came, because that was the old you. There was a new version of you now, and it was one that did have the capability to experience that very same tranquillity that Alexia was in the midst of. And it was all down to her, the woman resting in your arms. 

There was just one more thing you needed clarity about, and it unfortunately meant disturbing the blonde’s bliss, but it couldn’t wait.

“Ale, will you go on a date with me?” You asked shyly, waiting for her reaction with a grimace, for what reason you weren’t sure of. She chuckled under her breath and subtly shook her head, which was indeed not what you were looking for, until she spoke before you could panic.

“You really just asked that after we spent the evening together and had sex?” 

Your hand covered her mouth immediately, though the damage was already done and she laughed at that fact. 

“It was a simple question that needed a simple yes or no.” You attempted to come across as serious, but there was a smile already there as Alexia pulled your hand away and nodded. 

Her lips found yours in what you thought could be deemed as the softest kiss in mankind, before she leans back just enough to be able to murmur her answer against your lips.

“You don’t have to ask.”

—

there's a bit of pressure and nerves that comes with writing a part two like this so i hope i took the right path with the plot and that it was worth the wait 🙃

[sandwitchstories]

Do you want to build a snow man?

Welcome back to more adventures in Mouse's Mini-verse! I just can't get enough of these two together!

For more adventures with Mouse, check out my Dad!Sukuna Series on my AO3 - Here! )

If you prefer to read this story on AO3 click here !

Author's Note: For anyone new to my Dad!Sukuna Series, Mouse is Sukuna's, currently, 2 year old daughter with reader.

Summary: Sukuna harbors a tiny pink haired fugitive and then becomes his daughter's accomplice.

WC: 900+

CW: reader is referred to as 'Mama' but not described, toddler dad Sukuna, girl dad!sukuna, true form Sukuna (4 arms), it's pretty much just plain Dilf Sukuna fluff and crack, SFW in every way, just family fluff, father and daughter fluff, I love them together, Uraume makes an appearance, with a meat cleaver

Sukuna sat on the tatami mat in the main room, letting the early morning sun warm him through the open shoji doors while he worked on paperwork, his writing elegant and formal. Sukuna took great pride in everything he did right down to his handwriting. Sloppy chicken scratch was unbecoming. 

The sound of little feet slapping on the floor hit his ears long before Mouse’s little frame slid in through the shoji doors leading into the main room from the hall. She booked it over to him and ran behind him. He looked over his head in confusion as she lifted the edge of his haori and put herself directly under it.

Mouse popped her head out quickly and looked up at him. She pressed a finger to her lips and shushed at him. “A secret, Papa. A secret!” 

And with that she completely disappeared under his haori. He shook his head but said nothing. Between your genetics and Mouse being only 2 years old… He did not even try to make sense of what was going on.

That was, until he heard louder footsteps rushing towards them. He set down his brush and looked up, wondering what on Earth the issue could be. He had been enjoying a quiet morning for a change… He raised an eyebrow as an unusually disheveled looking Uraume appeared at the door with a hand behind their back.

Uraume took a knee in respect before asking, “Forgive me for interrupting. Have you seen Mouse anywhere, Master Sukuna?”

“Is there a reason you are trying to locate the brat?” He cocked his head. 

“None. None at all… I was just looking for her to give her some… cooking lessons,” Uraume said with a smile. “I’ll take my leave.”

Sukuna watched as the winter haired warrior stood and turned to make their way back into the hallway, but not before Sukuna noted they were hiding a damn meat cleaver behind their back. Once the door was closed Sukuna spoke.

“Come out, Mouse. I think the coast is cl-”

The door opened again and this time it was you, flustered and almost sputtering. “Have you seen our precious little daughter anywhere?”

“What is going on? Uraume was just in here looking for her too.”

“Well, you better hope I find her before Uraume makes her into toddler tenderloin!”

Well, that explained the meat cleaver. “And this is all because…”

“Mouse got into the flour and made the biggest mess you have ever seen.”

“That’s what the big issue is?”

“Uraume slipped on it when they were in pursuit of Mouse…”

Sukuna blinked all 4 of his eyes slowly, digesting this information. But then… then he began to imagine the scene in his head… and he threw his head back laughing.

“You’ve finally lost your mind, haven’t you?” you asked with hands on your hips.

“Mouse, come out,” Sukuna chuckled.

You hurried to shut the shoji door behind you, hissing out, “I had a feeling you were harboring a fugitive!”

Mouse moved to his side and lifted his haori to rest on top of her head. “Hi Mama…”

“Hi Mouse,” you said, moving to stand in front of the two of them looking down at her. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“No, please and thank you,” she said, going back under Sukuna’s haori.

Sukuna’s lips twitched in amusement at her answer. “Mouse. Why did you make a mess in the kitchen?”

Her head popped out to look up at her father. She regarded him for a moment as if trying to decide what route she was going to go. She opted to give him a big toothy grin and wrap herself around his arm. “Hi Papa.”

“We’re past that now,” he said, grabbing a hold of her and putting her in his lap. “Answer the question.”

“I not trying to make a mess,” she said, looking up at you both with big doe eyes. 

“What were you trying to do?” he asked. 

“I want to do snow angels,” she answered.

“Huh?” you guys asked in unison.

She looked at the two of you like you were slow. She proceeded to climb out of his lap, lay down on the floor between you and say, “Snow angels.” Followed immediately by a demonstration.

“Mouse… flour isn’t snow… it’s not even cold…” you stared at her in disbelief.

“It white and it soft,” she replied, as if explaining herself, still laying on the floor.

“Brat…” Sukuna looked down at her, pondering her lack of common sense. Then again, she was only two. “You know Uraume can make ice. They can also make snow.”

Sukuna immediately questioned his words as he watched Mouse’s eyes get even bigger before she leapt off the ground like an expert martial artist and bolted out of the room yelling for Uraume. You looked at him like you wanted to ring his neck before you took off after the toddler who was unknowingly now on a suicide mission to make snow angels in the middle of August.  

Sukuna glanced down at the paperwork he had been working on. It no longer held his interest. He stood and fixed his robes as he headed towards the kitchen where he could hear a commotion. You were absolutely going to tell him he was part of this problem… Sukuna grinned at that thought. Well, if he was going to be on your shit list either way… why be part of the problem when he could be the whole damn problem?

He called out to the three of you as he came down the hall. “Mouse! Forget snow angels! Let's make a snowman!”

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Carpe Diem | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After himself being ditched by Oliver, they meet once again. Both seemingly skirting around what happened in the Common Room when they last saw one another. | Word Count: 5.1k~ (oops) | Warnings below the cut!

Part One: Quid Pro Quo Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

A/N: I feel...like the word count is overboard but FUCK IT it's my blog 😈

“Greek and Latin both belong to the Indo-European language family, which does not necessarily mean they are similar. The branches are totally different. Whereas Latin belongs to the Romance branch, Greek belongs to the…”

She half-listens to the lecture, caught between Professor Wardon’s monotone ramblings and scribbling whatever bits and pieces she can string together in swirly handwriting, trying to ignore Trevor two rows in front of her, typing loudly on his brand new Macbook that he no doubt got from his well-off parents for Christmas.

Pencil and paper for the peasants, she thinks bitterly.

The laptop she has back in her dorm is clunky, too thick for carrying in her bag, and any notes she makes now will have to be typed up meticulously later. She supposes it’s a good way of getting the information to be irreparably printed into her brain though. That’s the only thing keeping her from going insane.

Which is where she finds herself now, in the wee hours of the morning, her fingers so tired and eyes so strained she feels that all the letters and characters are beginning to merge together.

She's just about to close the damn thing when a notification blares in the bottom right corner of her screen.

‘m_gav_314159265359 is now online’

She presses her lips together to stifle a laugh at the username, it makes her giggle every time. Of course his username is fucking Pi.

After their little ‘happening’ in the Common Room, they'd talked for a bit over MSN, sometimes texting when she had enough credit and even more rarely meeting up at Trinity College campus. Their timetables never seemed to line up very often, so their meetings were quick and over before they could even get settled into really getting to know each other.

It felt strange to have done something so exciting and yet not really know someone.

The memory made her blush. She was never usually that impulsive and brazen. But she didn't regret it.

Everytime Michael saw her, his cheeks flushed almost without her even needing to try. And it felt nice to see someone act like that in her presence.

After lectures had started after Christmas into the New Year and then into Spring, she found herself somewhat self-conscious. Second guessing herself. Wondering if the freedom and calmness of the holiday period had given him a new sense of clarity.

After all, he'd not spoken to her once since lectures had started again.

A heaviness weighed in her chest, bitterly like rejection.

Maybe she was delirious from the time of night, but she felt a surge of courage, desperately wanting to just know if this was going to be more or not.

She felt her cheeks heat somewhat, rubbing the backs of her knuckles against her lips. There was no time to reply before he sent another.

And if what he'd said before didn't make her face burn, that certainly did. She nearly smirked when she thought to herself, 'you mean when I sucked you off in the Common Room?'

But she didn't type that. She decided to have mercy on him, if only a little.

His replies were so blunt and to the point that they were so quintessentially Michael. She found herself wondering if what he'd typed before had been for the intention of making her blush, but she doubted it. He seemed the type to be somewhat oblivious to how words could affect the opposite sex.

Or anything to do with the opposite sex for that matter.

Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she typed off a few quick goodbyes and with a soft, plastic tap, shut her laptop for the night.

“There are no fit guys in my class this semester, fucking livid,” Priya rolls her eyes, nursing a stale pint and a cigarette.

“Did you really expect Modern Languages to be teeming with attractive men?” She smirks in response.

“No. But I at least expected a good shag within the first three months.”

“Does they have to be within our course?”

“No, course not. I'm not lazy as fuck. Can’t be arsed to go off campus.”

She laughs, waving the smoke trail that's formed between their faces, the smell of cigarettes and damp, beer-soaked carpets fill her senses, nursing the only pint she's capable of downing.

“Don't shit where you eat, Priya.”

“Don't you fuckin’ start,” she grins with all her perfect teeth before checking her phone, “fuck, is that the time. Sorry mate you've got like half your pint left-”

“Don't be silly, just go. Whoever you're meeting is bound to have a bigger cock than me anyway.”

“You're a nasty bitch, you know that?” she smiles, standing and pulling her mini-skirt down, “see you later? Catch up?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world. Have fun!”

“Oh I will!”

She smiles, sipping the stale beer as Priya rushes out the door excitedly tapping the keypads on her phone in reply to a guy no-doubt, nearly running right into a lamppost.

She pulled out her own phone, spotting a new message from the ex-boyfriend she hadn’t heard a peep out of since Freshers Week, groaning with a displeased expression at the first few lines of text that read as if he were desperate. Even over the crackling sound of the speakers and Daniel Powter’s ‘Bad Day’ lulling quietly through the pub, she was still sensitive to the sound of his voice.

“-get me another pint please, Oliver? Thanks.”

She had to crane her neck, half-swivelled on her chair, but it was undoubtedly him. Only one person had that hissy, direct way of speaking, had dirty, blonde hair that touched the nape of his neck and was likely to wear such an…interesting selection of clothes.

Her mouth was barely open before she realised it was Michael, and by then he was too far away to shout from across a busy pub. She found herself with a sort of stupid grin, watching him walk with such a lanky gait, as if walking were an inhuman thing for him to do. 

It took her a few moments to text back a reply to her ex before she looked up again, eyebrows furrowed when she saw that whoever Michael had been with, was now umming and ahhing about whether to join the popular lot, for which she recognised Felix Catton amongst them, shockingly ill-dressed in a ‘what happens in Kassiopi stays in Kassiopi’ t-shirt, with a cigarette between his lips that had been inhaled to a nub. 

She grimaced. Only rich people could dress so fucking shocking.

And then her heart leapt in a different way when she saw Michael look distantly at Oliver, his hand half-raised in an awkward wave, his face crumbling in a way where she knew he was disappointed and yet, not surprised in the slightest. 

It was when Michael pushed his glasses up his nose in a way she couldn’t help but find sweet and go for the door, that she slipped from the stool she was on, a quarter of her pint left, and took off after him.

“Michael!”

The late winter air nipped at her skin, cursing internally that his legs were so fucking long he could stride a hell of a lot further than her. 

“Michael!”

It wasn’t hard to see the glint of his glasses lenses off the streetlights once he’d turned to face her, his lips parted in surprise and a heat rising to his cheeks.

He swallowed visibly, “H-hey..”

She felt her own heart rattle in her chest at how easy it was to fluster him, “Hey, you alright?”

For a moment, the self-proclaimed mathematical genius seemed genuinely lost for words, his throat closing up on him like he was having a sort of allergic reaction to the opposite sex. So with all that, he simply nodded, his hands clenched as if not knowing what to do with them.

“Sorry about your mate, that was a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh, he’s…he’s not my mate.”

She nodded, rubbing her hands together to warm them from the chill, “d’you wanna go somewhere?”

Michael’s eyes behind his glasses widened, “like…together?”

“No, I’ll make you go off on your own,” she grinned, “yes together!”

He huffed an embarrassed but elated laugh, and only now her eyes studied his shirt, cocking her head in amusement at the ‘that’s how I roll’ shirt with what looked like a maths equation beneath it. The actual meaning was lost on her, but it was so dorky it made her smile.

“U-uh, my mum bought it me for Christmas...” he muttered quickly to which she cracked an even bigger smile, the two of them laughing quietly for a moment before he spoke up again. 

“Do you wanna come to mine?” he asked, and it was so direct it made her blink, her lungs feeling as if they were fluttering, “I mean-my dorm.”

She wet her lips from the dry cold, watching how nervous and twitchy he was. And how it reminded her of the last time they were alone together. 

“Like…catch up or something. I-I’ve got alcohol if you-”

“That’d be lovely, Michael.”

He at least seemed grateful that she’d actually replied to save him from rambling, and even cracked a thin-lipped smile himself, clearly and delightfully nervous. Thirty-minutes ago, he’d have never considered this to be the ending to his evening. 

Michael’s room is disturbingly tidy, she wonders if he actually even lives here. It’s like those university rooms that they take photos of to advertise the ‘spacious’ and ‘community-driven’ atmosphere of campus life. 

At least it was clean, she mused as Michael passed her a bottle of the only alcohol he had, which were lukewarm WKDs.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking a sugary sip and looking about the room. Michael has since cracked open his own drink, but seems disinterested in it as it rests on his bouncing knee, looking up at her from where he’s sat on his desk chair from under his brow.

His laptop sits shut, pencils in a neat line next to it. His walls are bare, with what she can only assume are blue tack marks from the previous tenant’s last year. With the exception of a wall-mounted calendar next to his desk.

“No posters? Was hoping I could be nosy, see what you like.” 

When she turns back to Michael he quickly looks down as if not wanting to be caught staring, “It’d just be maths stuff.”

“And Carol Vorderman?” she teases mindlessly, not catching the way his cheeks go alight.

She hums an amused laugh behind the bottle at her lips, “It’s very tidy.”

When he just replies with a shrug, she scoots off the bed to have a roam about the place, needing only a few steps to cross the room to his bookcase, filled to the brim neatly with books. She runs her finger along some of the spines.

“You’re not going to mess anything up are you?”

She laughs, coming out more of a snort, which makes her cheeks warm, “Sorry. Just curious about your books. ‘Mathematics of Language. Sounds like a bit of me and you.”

There’s that flush again.

That deer in the headlights look.

“Uh…just sounded interesting.”

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

She smirks, “interesting.”

There’s a silence that for a moment neither of them are able to shake. 

Michael swallows visibly, “don’t know yet..”

She sees something in his expression when a playful smile lifts across her face, suddenly the memories and implications of what they’d done before now weighing heavily on them. And all at once, he’s able to smell the body scrub she’d used in the shower that morning and eyes flitting to the glint of her stud earrings. He’d remembered brushing past them with his fingers when her mouth wrapped around his-

“And who says you’re not a languages man?” she presses with a teasing lilt to her voice. The tone and sing-songy nature of her voice has his heart doing backflips, feeling as if he could feel the erratic beating between his ribs. 

Michael seems stuck in the position he finds himself as she lazily crosses the room, slipping back on his bed, one hand brushing across his bedsheets and the other setting the drink on his bedside table. For a long moment, his eyes couldn’t leave her. The whole situation was suitably extraordinary. A girl who had come onto him (to say the least) was now in his room, sat on his bed, touching his things…all while wearing something he personally deemed unsuitable for the cold, a dress with black tights beneath.

She turns her head to him, smiling, “you seem nervous.”

He swallows, trying to claw at any sort of reply, “is that an accusation?”

It comes out a bit harsher than he probably expected, but instead of recoiling, she bites her lip as if to stifle a full-toothed grin, “an observation.”

He shrugs, “just never had a girl in here before.”

“Worried I’ll mess up your feng shui?”

“My what?”

She genuinely laughs at that, nearly smacking her head on the bed frame, but a hearty chuckle all the same. And Michael doesn’t know why his own cheeks start to heat up at that, taking this opportunity that her eyes are shut to look down at her legs. For some reason, making her laugh just makes him want to try more. 

He’s never had that feeling before. Wanting to make someone laugh.

“No, really, my what.”

She meets his eyes brightly with her own, “feng shui, it’s like…the vibe of a room, a space. Like,  how you place your furniture or whatever.”

Michael raises a brow, his lip quirking on one side, “sounds like bullshit.”

“It probably is.” she laughs.

“Can I ask you something?”

The quick u-turn and tone in conversation has her eyes meet his nervously, her interest and curiosity piqued. Her hands find themselves nervously stroking her legs, the texture of the tights providing some level of comfort, “yeah sure.”

She can't quite figure out what expression he's trying to put on. His brows are furrowed in judgement and a curious sense of guarding himself. And yet he's sat back in his seat, looking at her like he is trying to figure her out, and yet wants to know why she is the way she is.

“Why did you do that?”

She blinks at the accusatory and monotone rhythm of his way of speaking.

“Do what.”

“Don't play stupid. Doesn't suit you.”

She nearly scoffs at that, “what? Why have you gone all weird all of a sudden?”

“Why did you do…that at the Christmas party?”

She shrugs and shakes her head, as if the answer should be obvious, “because I wanted to? And you didn't seem to mind either.”

“I didn't-that's not the point!” he retorts, “are you genuinely taking the mick out of me?”

“You've asked that before and no.”

“Well why then?”

“Is it not enough to really think that I find you interesting? And nice to talk to?”

Of all the things she expected Michael Gavey to go quiet at, it certainly wasn't that. But she watches him all the same, the line between his brow slowly disappearing as his frown vanishes.

She cocks her head, “and not bad looking either.”

“Stop it.”

“I mean it!”

“Nobody wants the fucking maths virgin-”

“Michael. I don't give a fuck about that,” she says calmly, “Hell, I was a virgin not that long ago. You keep saying ‘nobody wants the virgin’ but you can't keep using that as an excuse just because you're embarrassed you haven't done anything.”

He sighs, like he doesn't want to believe her. And she can hardly believe how self-deprecating and yet direct this man can be in a single breath.

“Look, if you don't want to talk to me, I can always go-”

Almost as soon as she is stood, he is too, one large hand wrapped around her forearm, “No.”

They've been sat so long, she had almost forgotten how tall he was, and the difference between them briefly has her tummy doing back flips. From here, she is able to smell whatever body wash he uses, and if she had to guess, probably blue radox.

“No, I didn't say I wanted you to go. Stay…”

He doesn't say ‘please’ once, and yet she's able to hear the desperation.

When she doesn't move, his grip loosens, and she feels tingly all over when his hand slides up her arm.

“Can I kiss you again like last time?”

She almost smiles in adoration at how he asks it, but for the sake of saving him the embarrassment of thinking she's laughing at him, settles for a simple and gentle nod of her head. She is sure she's not really thought it through. Weighing up the pros and cons isn't exactly the first thing on her mind right now though as Michael has to bend significantly to crash his lips to hers.

Much like last time, he is a bit endearingly clumsy, his lips moving quickly on hers like he's running a race with his mouth. This time there is no pool table for him to cage her against, but all the same his legs take him forwards until her knees hit the edge of his bed.

By the time he is on top of her, she's managed to weave her fingers through his hair, her nose nudging against his glasses every now and then, and guiding him with her own movements to slow down and enjoy the moment, with no need to rush.

She knows that secretly he's probably just excited.

But this time, his hands are extremely active.

She's unable to help the breathy whimper between desperate kisses as he tentatively squeezes her thighs, not quite brave enough to go beneath the dress yet and drifting upwards to her breasts, touching and clutching fondly, as if any harsh grip or movement and she'll get up and leave.

He's still unsure, maybe even nervous, she can feel it.

It's here she realises that whether he is doing it subconsciously or not, she can feel the strained bulge at the front of his trousers rubbing up against the inside of her leg, probably chasing friction that feels too good for him to feel lucid.

“Can I see you…” he asks as his lips break away.

She doesn't even reply, she just complies, pulling the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders and the bra straps along with it. The position she's in making it near impossible to reach behind her.

If she could print his face in her mind as she pulled her dress down to her ribs, she would. He looks entirely mesmerised in adoration, and once the only thing covering her breasts is the thin material of her bra, Michael looks at her with an almost dream-like gaze. 

His hand moves before his mouth, or at least before he catches himself, “Is it oka-”

“Course..” she says far too quickly. 

All she can hear as Michael pulls the thin straps of her bra fully down her arms, exposing her breasts, is his breath, staggered and uneven. His hand easily covers one of her breasts, squeezing experimentally, his thumb gently drifting over her nipple and watching them stiffen to needy buds. 

She doesn’t need to look between them to see how hard he is, she can feel him against her thigh, where her dress has since ridden up to her hips. 

His glasses knock against her chest as he leans down, all-too-carefully covering her nipple with his tongue, like he is trying to print the taste of them to memory. 

There is an unconscious desire to press her thighs together, but she settles for rolling her hips, causing Michael’s voice to rumble against her chest where he mouths at her breasts. One hand forever stays at the one he isn’t paying lip service to, testing the weight and shape in his palms. 

It feels like all sensitivity has been turned up to 1000. He is so slow, so unsure, that every languid movement has every nerve feel as if it’s on fire. A selfish part of her wants him to go faster, so used to the fervent, almost rushing nature of who she’d been with before. It was never like this, borderline worshipping.

“Michael…” she breathes, rolling her hips against him experimentally, rewarded with a low whine from him.

She watched as her nipple slips from his lips in the most erotic manner she’d ever seen, before his clear eyes are on her again. 

“Is this okay? Am I doing something wr-”

“No,” she shakes her head quickly, “feels nice.”

Michael licks his lips, a sign of how nervous he is, “Can I do something else?”

He is so eager to please, to learn, that looking at his face as he asks she can hardly deny him. And her head moves without effort, nodding as she watches his hand disappear beneath the hem of her dress to pull her tights down her legs. 

It then becomes obvious what he wants to do. 

“Are you sure, I-”

“I’m sure.” he adds, rolling the black nylon down her legs until all that is left between Michael and her bare skin below her hips, is her underwear. A flush of embarrassment engulfs her face at the thought of how aroused she might be, knowing he has no experience, she doesn’t want to scare him off. The tender and yet needy way he’d mouthed at her breasts had her body all warm, and she can’t remember the last time she’d been this ready for anything.

“I just want to do the same for you as you did for me. Make you feel good.”

And that certainly doesn’t help that feeling either.

She’s not sure if she will get tired of the sight of his long, lithe fingers gripping her thighs apart, and for a moment she finds herself entranced by the view, until he is pressing sweet kisses to the inside of them. Open-mouthed, with an addictive cooling sensation when he pulls away, only to edge closer to the centre of her underwear.

Her breath remains stuck in her chest as she watches him navigate the female body, mapping it out in his head. She knows better than to say anything, knowing him as she does now, he is immensely competitive, and wants to get things right. It’s likely if she stepped in to instruct him, it would only embarrass him more. So she stays quiet, and lets him come to her.

His thumb dips beneath the leg hole of her underwear, “Can I?”

She swallows visibly, now for some reason it’s her being the nervous one. Possibly because the first time, it was her doing something for him. And now, it is very much the feeling of being studied, of being watched to see what made her tick. A feeling that has her desperate for some kind of fulfilment. Anything.

She lifts her hips to help him slide her underwear down her legs, her cheeks warming at being so utterly exposed to him herself for the first time. There is a finality to it that she just can’t quite put into words. A point of no return.

A full body shudder made its way through her when she felt his thumb trail across the spot where her leg met her hip, trailing the line there that led to her sensitive womanhood.

Michael looked as if he was being presented with an equation, she could practically hear the thoughts in his head. But beyond not entirely knowing what to do, it didn't dissuade his curiosity.

She could tell though, that he didn't know what to do.

Michael nearly flinched when she took his hand, encouraging his thumb to touch her bundle nerves hidden between her folds. 

She watched him as his thumb cautiously collected the wetness that had begun to come out of her and used it to gently apply pressure to her clit. Breath was hot in her chest  as he started slowly.

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

As soon as she nodded, confirming how pleasurable it was, Michael's first reaction was to go faster. And so he did. Like he was trying to light a fire.

“No, no, no, it's fine to go slow.”

“Shit, sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she smiled, “just more gentle.”

The panic on his face had been clear. But at her gentle instruction, she saw him relax, taking her words and applying gentle pressure in slower, tighter circles. And it seemed Michael was now fully aware of its intended effect, as his eyes were able to lift up to hers underneath the rim of his glasses to see her breathing had increased, and blood rushing to her cheeks. 

It felt incredible to watch his expressions, she thought. Seeing the little thoughts rattling around in his head, to be able to awaken something in him for the first time. But it also felt utterly exposing, and every time his thumb drew circles against her clit, she heard the soft click of her arousal that made the room feel as if she were inside an oven. 

Michael’s lips parted, his head moving as if pulled by an invisible string to her core.

“Can I…?” he asked again, but more uncertain this time. 

The anticipation gnaws so much at her skin, combined with the way he is taking his time that she has become somewhat impatient, so it’s completely involuntary when she nods her head and somehow manages a whispered ‘yes’.

She doesn't really, really know what's wrong with her. She's had head before. But when he dives between her thighs so quickly and eagerly, his thumbs almost pulling her skin gently to expose as much of her as he can, and swiping his tongue over the centre. From her entrance, all the way to her bundle of nerves.

It has her breath stuck in her chest, instinctively reaching down to run her fingers through his sandy hair. Even the slightest tug on it has a low groan vibrating through her where his mouth moves slowly against her.

“Michael…”

At first he is careful, taking the instruction she'd given him before and applying it to tasting her instead. But his eyes flit up to her when she breathes his name like that, so he redoubles his efforts, gripping the underside of her thighs to tug her towards him in a teasing rhythm.

She didn't really know what to expect, assuming he hadn't done anything like this before. But Michael seems eager to please, as he nudges between her sensitive folds to tease her entrance with his tongue, the sharp shape of his nose butting against her bud with every movement, as little as it is.

With one hand in his hair, her hips move against his face, the glasses perched on his face hanging askew. And all she can see is that his eyes are closed as he tastes her, every now and then he makes a noise between a whine and a moan, as if he didn't want the experience to end.

Dragging his tongue back up to her bud to focus his attention there, Michael experimentally slides one long, slender digit easily inside her, pleased at the breathy sound it seems to elicit from her. Two feelings at once, just as she'd given him before.

“Oh, shit-” 

He fights the urge to smirk when he hears that. She's so warm and wet, that it's easy to slide in the second, feeling her walls suck him in as they clamp around his fingers moving in and out of her. It's a feeling he couldn't describe if he tried, and he daren't think of what she'd feel like around his cock, or if she'd let him.

She can feel her stomach muscles tightening, an orgasm bubbling up to the surface when he gains confidence, flicking her swollen clit with his tongue and pistoning two fingers with a pornographically wet smack into her over and over. Brushing that sweet spot inside that he manages to find sometimes, seemingly without realising.

“Michael - fuck - I'm gonna-”

He groans as her fingers tug at his hair, her hips grinding herself against him and chasing that delicious friction as her high barrels through her, sparking pleasure down each notch of her spine until it fizzles out through her limbs.

She can feel Michael grinding himself against the bed, searching for his own, as he maintains his actions, lapping up everything she gives him with determination. When she dares to look down at him, as if he can sense it, his eyes open to watch her expression, the blue of his eyes nearly entirely eclipsed by black.

As if something had been awoken in him that even he couldn't recognise he'd wanted.

With one last swipe of his tongue over her centre, Michael withdraws his fingers, gripping her thigh with them and making the skin there glisten.

Her cheeks feel as if they're on fire when he rights himself to his knees before her, looking down at her with admiration at how she is still essentially half naked. The tightness at the front of his jeans makes it obvious how he felt about what he'd just done.

Engrossed by watching her breasts move as she breathes heavily, the slight shimmer of sweat on her collarbones, Michael raises his hand to his face, using his palm to wipe her slick from his lips and chin.

She breaks the silence with a tired laugh when he pushes his glasses back up his face, one half of the lenses completely fogged up. It prompts him to laugh too.

“Was I okay?”

This time she doesn't hold back her smile at the way he asks it. As if she hadn't just shaken with the force of her high all over his face.

She nods, “More than okay.”

He seems genuinely relieved.

She bites her lip as she looks at him, his cheeks all tinged pink, his mind reeling at what they'd just done.

He doesn't know what to say or do, and she can see it.

“Do you fancy having a girlfriend, Michael?” she asks.

“Uh…I've never had one, not properly anyway.”

“Yes, but would you like one?”

She watches the bob of his Adam's Apple as he swallows heavily, “Y-yeah…”

She pushes herself up to meet him where he's knelt, admiring his features for a moment, before leaning forward to kiss him, encouraging him to kiss her back. It takes a second for him to respond, but when he does, it's needy, teeth and tongues clashing as the musky taste of her is captured on him.

“Tell you what, after your exams, when you can relax, I'll be your proper girlfriend. In every way..”

His breath comes out shuddered against her lips, “what do you mean?..”

She wets her lips as she smirks, “I think you know exactly what I mean, Michael.”

She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing him blushed and bothered.

And when they're both dressed, sharing awkward giggles and nervous kisses, she gives him a look with a cock of her head as he checks his wall-mounted Countdown-themed calendar.

“What you looking for?”

“My last exam is the 15th. There's exactly 12,246 minutes between now and then and all I'm going to be thinking about is whether you'll really be my girlfriend or not.”

She nearly smiles at the fact he does the maths so quickly. 8 days, 12 hours and 6 minutes until his last exam. And even though she's made it clear she wants him, he's still unsure.

She meets his gaze, unable to hide the grin off her face, “Better get studying then. You've only got 12,245 minutes left until you've got me.”

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[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Little Love Notes | Bang Chan 

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem!Reader  

Summary: Chan's girlfriend likes to leave him little notes.  

Warnings: It just fluffy. I have written a little drabble similar to this but wanted to switch it around so it's reader leaving him little love notes. This is a repost from my now deactivated blog. More of an explanation in my pinned post.

Word Count: 482 

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Chan's heart swelled with warmth as he read the little note once again. The words are written on a bright yellow post-it note which was stuck to his laptop lid. It was a simple sentence, but it meant so much to him.  

"Have a great day, my love. Don’t be too hard on yourself."   

The last couple day’s he’d been a little hard on himself because he couldn’t get a part of the latest song they’ve been working on right. No matter how he mixed it, with and without Changbin and Jisung’s help, he couldn’t seem to get it sounding like he envisioned in his mind.   

Taking a moment before he goes back to the song that’s becoming a headache, he remembers back to when Y/N left him the first note she ever left him. They had just moved in together when he found a post-it note stuck to the screen of his phone, with ‘I love you’ written on it. From that day on, Y/N made it her mission to leave him little love notes around their apartment. Some days they just said I love you and other days they’d be a small paragraph reminding him how loved he is, or how lucky she is to have him. Sometimes they would be sweet little reminders for him to take breaks, or to go easy on the guys and stuff like that. When he went away, whether it be in South Korea or overseas, the little notes would continue. He’d find them on in his bag, in the pocket of a random hoodie or pair of pants, and on his electronics. He even found one wrapped around his toothbrush, one time.   

The guys often tease him about the notes, but he doesn't care. He loves these notes more than anything because they are a physical representation of her love for him. It’s his and Y/N’s little thing they have that doesn’t involve anyone else. He loves it and would be sad if she ever stopped writing them.  

As he opens his laptop, he chuckles to himself when he finds another note in his girlfriend's handwriting. ‘Can we please have McDonald’s for dinner?’  

He puts the notes somewhere safe so he can add them to the growing collection, filling his desk drawer at him. Grabbing his phone, he pulls up his messages with Y/N, and types out his reply to her notes.  

‘You have a good day too. I’ll pick up McDonald’s on my way home tonight. I love you so much x.’  

He puts his phone to the side and boots up his laptop to get started working on the newest 3racha song.  

It doesn’t take long before his phone buzzes, notifying him that he has a new message. When he checks it, he smiles, seeing it’s from Y/N.   

‘I’ll message you my order later. I love you so much too, baby xxxxx.’ 

Likes, Comments & Reblogs are welcomed and appreciated. 

©️ 2024 CRAZYFORMFICS. NO ONE HAS PERMISSION TO COPY, TRANSLATE AND/OR POST MY FICS ON HERE OR ANY OTHER SITE.

TAGGED: @staytiny2000 - @dancelikebutterflywings - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea - @rainydayteacups

[hitomisuzuya]

Hi Suzu! How are you doing? I hope everything is fine 🫶🏽

Well, I'm a big fan of scummy Scara, maybe, can I ask for scummy Scara x reader, however, reader is also a scummy person, and Scara will discover this, probably he'll discover a secret obsession from us for him 🤫🤭, a smut or suggestive, as long as you feel comfortable writing, I hope you have a nice day.

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Scummy Scara. Journal descriptions of blow job, masturbation, degradation, sex. Filth. Yandere!Scara

Hello dear❤️ Thank you so much. I got a bit creative with this. Guys, I am nervous. I am pulling for Scara's C3 and weapon on his rerun.

Scaramouche knew your schedule like the back of his hand. What times you had which classes, when you would leave, the route you would take, and when you would be back. Tonight was one of the few evening classes he couldn't change his schedule to take the class too.

There was something he was dying to get his hands on. There was this one notebook you always, always carried with you. You never left it unattended. He gathered there was something personal about that notebook.

He had 95% of his classes with you, he always saw you writing in it. He could tell you weren't taking notes, because it looked like you weren't even listening to a word the teacher said during lectures.

What was going through your pretty little head? He had to know.

So, when he saw you leaving for your class without the notebook, he knew this was the only chance he would have. Was your head so far in the clouds that you left your dorm without it? His captivation with you increased even more thanks to his curiosity.

Each and every time he snuck into your room, never once did Scaramouche find the notebook. The first place he'd looked was your panty drawer. He didn't find it, however, he'd found a pair of panties and jacked himself off with them once he sprayed some of your perfume on them.

It only turned him on more knowing his cock would smell like you.

The scent of you enveloped him as he closed your dorm door behind him. He knew if anyone saw him sneaking into your room, they would be too pissed scared of him to call him out on it.

"Where oh where did you put it, kitten?" Scaramouche murmured as he crawled onto your bed. He was a pro at fixing your sheets back perfectly. The corner of something purple was sticking out underneath your blanket.

There it was!

Did he feel bad for snooping.

...

NOPE.

He stretched out on my bed, kicking some Squishmellows off your bed and onto the floor. He opened your notebook to a random page. His eyes widened, his breath hitching in his throat as his read.

On the page, written in your handwriting was stuff about him. Explicit things written about him. His cock throbbed with every word he read, his eyes racing across the page:

Scaramouche sat next to me again today. I couldn't stop looking at him from the corner of my eye. I doubt I even heard a word the Professor said the entire lecture. All I could think about was sucking Scaramouche's cock underneath the desk. I wanted so badly to make it pulse and throb under my tongue, happily moaning as he grips my hair and forces my mouth down on it.

Scaramouche took out his cock, and stroked it as he read. You'd been staring off at nothing during class thinking about choking on his cock. How long had you been feeling this way?

During the very same class this entry was dated for, he'd been thinking about fingering you into a wet mess underneath your desk. He'd fantasized denying you your orgasm while he watched you struggle to keep your composure. You would lean in and whisper a plead for him to take you back to his dorm and make you cum.

God, he wanted to corrupt you so fucking bad. You were always so quiet, shy and innocent looking. A good girl who always did her assignments. A fucking nerd. Who knew you felt like this?

Scaramouche turned to another page. The intimate descriptions of fantasies you had about him continued. His cock felt almost painfully hard now as he read. His hips jerked to rut into his hand as he massaged the precum soaked head with his thumb.

You know that empty classroom no one uses? The one that's always locked? Every time I walk by it, I think about how much I want Scaramouche to bend me over one of the desks, his hand covering my mouth to muffle my moans while he pounds his cock into my pussy from behind. I may have to stop writing this to use my vibrator or finger myself. I am getting wet, and my clit is throbbing thinking about it while I write this.

I just know my cunt would squeeze around his cock if he spanked me, and told me to be a good girl and stay quiet while he empties his cock into me. I want him to tell me what a slut I look like with his cum seeping from my hole around his cock. What a whore I sound like muffling loud moans behind his hand.

Scaramouche had drop your notebook to put a hand over his mouth to muffle a moan as he fisted his cock. You started writing another sentence but abruptly stopped. "Ah fuck," He groaned, his cock throbbed as he pictured you desperately fingering your drooling pussy, your fingers skating wet over your clit. Twitching and moaning his name.

Biting the palm of his hand, Scaramouche picked up your notebook again. The pace of his hand increased when he read your next words:

Fuck, I can't make myself cum. No matter how much I finger myself. I need Scaramouche. I need him to make me cum. It's so frustrating. He is all I can think about. I am so in love with him that hurts.

I want to be his little fuck toy. I would worship him and his cock on my knees.

At that point, it became too much for Scaramouche. Cum spurted into into his hand. He laughed, soft and dark as he jacked himself off through his orgasm. How exhilarating to find out you wanted him just as badly he wanted you!

He took the notebook with him after he left your room. It would give him something to read until your class was over. After that, if he had it his way and he knew he would, you would end up in his room.

You wouldn't be leaving that night.

He had a fuck toy to tend to, after all.

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Season Two}

Season one

Chapter Seventeen - End of the season

♡♡♡

The duke and duchess were holding the last ball of the season. It was going to be a grand event to be certain. The whole ton would be there.

You were wearing your last gown made for the season. It was beautiful. A shade of green. It had little jewels sewn into it, so it would sparkle while you danced.

You looked forward to seeing Thomas.

Though you had not secured an engagement within the time of the season, you hoped that you may continue to correspond with Thomas while he was in the country, and perhaps go see him at his family estate, that he may ask.

Your mother would be so proud.

Your maid did your hair and helped the jewellery. It was going to be a spectacular season finale. You could feel it in your bones.

Hastings House was beautiful.

You walked with your mother around the fountain to the main entrance. The ball was to be held in a small courtyard in the middle of the house. Daphne had done a splendid job.

There was a painting of the duke and duchess on display. Painted bt Henry Granville. It was beautifully done.

You stand off to the side while your mother chats with guests. You watch people waltz.

Violet arrives with Eloise. Daphne goes to talk to her sister.

You keep your eyes peeled for any sign of Thomas.

The next to come through the door are the Featheringtons. You cannot deny your relief at seeing Penelope again. Granted, she is wearing yellow, but she is here.

One dance ends, and the next dance begins.

You take a stroll about the ball. Thomas has yet to arrive, it seems. You smile at Penelope as you pass her. She smiles back, too, seemingly surprised you had paid her any attention. People usually don't.

You see Colin parting ways with Benedict across the room. Your eyes follow the second eldest Bridgerton as he walks.

He hasn't noticed you.

Maybe that's for the best...

No.

No. He is your friend and you want to talk to him. You are about to make your way across the room when a servant comes up to you with a note on his tray. You look at him confused.

"For you, ma'am."

You look at the note and pick it up. The servant leaves, and you unfold the paper. The handwriting belongs to Thomas.

I must apologise. I am to leave for York immediately. I shall not be at the Hastings ball. Do have fun on my behalf.

- T. Hardy

You stare at the note in silence. He's not coming at all. He must have left earlier in the day. Perhaps in a rush. You had been at the Bridgertons that afternoon, so if he called the house, you wouldn't have seen him.

If he had called to the house, the butler would have told you, or even your mother. He did not call... So he must have been in a rush.

You sigh. You fold the note back up and leave it on a tray of a passing waiter. They can dispose of it for you.

Glancing up, you find two blue eyes gazing at you. Benedict has seen you. Now you're definitely going to go talk to him. You make your way across the courtyard and come to stand beside Benedict.

"Hello."

"Hello," he replies softly.

Silence fills the space between you, and you turn to the dancers to occupy yourself, and to keep from looking at him again.

"Is Lord Hardy not with you?" Benedict couldn't help asking. He was surprised to see you standing alone tonight.

"No. He left London already. Back to York."

Benedict is even further surprised by the information. He thought Hardy would stay until the very end. He believed the man to be falling for you.

"I see."

You look down and try to keep yourself in check. "I thought maybe I had finally found someone. Someone who perhaps desried me, but it seems I was wrong."

Benedict keeps quiet.

"I wasn't enough for anyone this season. I tried, and I failed. Doesn't matter, I suppose. Next year might be different."

"You didn't fail."

You look up at Benedict. "I didn't secure a proposal or even managed to keep a man interested enough to at least say goodbye before he left."

"You might see him again," he says.

"Somehow, I feel not."

Benedict feels for you. You have been nothing but glorious and wonderful and yourself all year round. You wiggled yourself into the lives of his family and became a pleasant consistent in their lives. You encouraged his passions and made him feel a little more like himself.

"You didn't fail," he says again.

You look up at him and crack a smile. "Next year then."

He nods.

The music changes and the floor is cleared. You notice the duke and duchess approach each other. You knew something had happened between them, but didn't know what. Yet, here they were about to dance for the ton.

You smile at Daphne as dances with her husband. They look like such a handsome couple. You envy them. You envy what they have.

The way they look at each other. How close he holds her to him.

Love.

It is so rare. It's so rare that very few people ever get to feel it for real. You want it. You want to know what it feels like to have, well, a soulmate. The one person made just for you. To love and to hold. To cherish. To share every moment with.

Benedict shifts hisngaze from his sister to look at you. He can see the way you watch Daphne and Simon dance.

Benedict's had fun. He played around. Tested the waters. But looking at you right here and right now makes him rethink everything.

Genevieve has certainly been fun. Yet, if you were going to try again for your own sake next year, perhaps he should, too. You, who inspired his art. Inspired him to try harder and practise more.

Perhaps next season, you will both benefit and grow more as people.

As the waltz continues, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance brings you to look up at the sky. The heavens open and rain pours. You gasp softly as the cool droplets hit your skin.

Benedict instinctively reaches out for you and guides you under the canopy toward the house. You look up at him and then turn back to the ball. Everyone else does the same, seeking shelter from the rain.

Everyone but Daphne.

Simon is holding her hand as if he was guiding her to shelter, but Daphne stops him from doing so. She closes her eyes and lifts her face to the sky, letting the rain fall.

She looks beautiful.

Lady Danbury stops anyone else from going out into the rain. "Everyone... I believe this evening is complete. We shall thank our gracious hosts for such a splendid soiree in the morning. Now, go. Out."

Everyone begins to leave.

Benedict slips his hand into yours and guides you out. You look up at him quietly.

Daphne and Simon have some talking to do.

Benedict guides you through the house and outside to the carriage. It's still raining. His hair sticks to his head and you giggle.

"What?"

"Nothing..." You smile.

He gives you a boyish grin. He helps you into the carriage and stands around in the doorway.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" He asks.

"You leave for the country tomorrow."

"Are you not also?"

"Me and Mama are to stay in London. We don't have a country house to go to in the summer."

Benedict didn't know that. "Did your father not own an estate?"

"We had to sell it when he died. He left us with a great deal of dept."

He realises in that moment how much he doesn't know about you. You're so much more complicated than he originally thought.

Your mother clears her throat and Benedict moves to let her into the carriage.

"See you soon, I hope?" He looks at you.

"I'll write."

He nods and watches the footman close the door. He steps back as the carriage leaves, and Benedict finds himself a little lonely.

♡♡♡

When you rise the next morning, you have no idea of anything that happened within the Featherington house. Lord Featherington died. He was killed.

Penelope spent much of the morning in tears. Elosie had gone to visit her.

Marina went with Sir Philip Crane. The brother of her deceased love who never made it back home. She was to marry him. At least she could have her child and be looked after.

You had decided to go to the Bridgerton house before they all left. It was the least you could do for Benedict and his family. They had all seemed pleased to see you when you arrived, and that made you feel warm inside.

Colin was leaving for Greece. Another reason for Penelope to be upset. Colin was going to be so far away travelling the world.

You waved him off as he rode away on his horse. Benedict had his arm locked with yours.

As the rest of the family headed inside, you struck up conversation with Daphne, Simon, and Anthony. While the duke and duchess are staying in London a little longer, it would seem Anthony intends to find a Viscountess.

That leaves all of you stunned.

Though he follows it up by saying he will keep love out of it to keep things simple. Daphne frowns at that. As do you.

"Perhaps he will learn," she says.

"Perhaps not," you reply.

Eloise hurries over to her brother, who is about to climb onto a horse. You had already said farewell to him.

"Give my regards to Madame Delacroix." She says to Benedict.

"Your regards will have to wait, El," he responds. "She is making a short trip to France."

"Oh? Not going to say goodbye to her?" Eloise asks.

"I did. Last night, if you must know."

Benedict had gone to see her after he bid you goodnight. He went to say goodbye. After seeing you at the ball last night, he decided to change his mind on a few things.

Granted, the goodbye was a long one. He spent a couple of hours at the shop, but nothing untoward happened.

"You said goodbye to her?"

"After Daphne's ball, yes." Benedict then mentioned he spent most of the ball with you.

Eloise worked out that if Madame Delacroix had been at the shop all night. That couldn't have been her in the carriage when Eloise went to protect Whistledown.

Eloise headed back inside.

"Are you coming?" Benedict calls.

You turn and see him on his horse. "Me?"

"Yes, you." He chuckles.

"Where?"

"One last ride around the square before me and my family leave for the summer." He offers.

You smile and look up at him. "I'm not dressed for riding.

"No matter. He offers you his hand."

"Benedict... we cannot create a scandal at the very end of the season."

"Why not?" He grins

"Because I said so."

He laughs.

"Very well. I'm glad you came to see us." He says.

"Me too. Have a lovely summer, Benedict."

"You too." He speaks your name softly, smiling. You both stay like that for a moment, looking at each other. The moment is broken we spurs his horse onward.

You watch him go with a smile.

You look around the square and sigh softly.

Next season was going to be different. It had to be.

♡♡♡

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