#i have a yellow decorative cushion

[burnt-tree]

very pleased that my dorm room has a random teal wall. how did they know

[naffeclipse]

Champion

Gladiator!Reader x Gods!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

This was such a fun and unique fic to write and I'm honored @drops-of-the-sun requested my writing for their AU! A mix of gladiators and gods with two offers and difficult choices. I also loved describing the boys as gods and how they interacted with their champion!

Content Warning for suggestive themes.

———

The domus, a large house, stands tall and grand. In the shadow of the colosseum, it is a mere footstep of smooth marble but no less imposing. The double doors are gilded in gold, and the guards escorting you speak not a word as they push you through the entrance and into the atrium. You gaze around, wary. A large central hall is open at the roof, allowing sunlight to stream down and open up what would otherwise be drenched in shadows. Lavish decorations of gold vases, jewel-bright pottery, and marbled floors scream of the high importance of those residing here. The walls are splashed in frescoes of deep blue midnights and burning yellow mornings; the glorious depictions of the astral beings who must use this as a villa during the god games.

Why do they summon you now?

Aligned with the front door is a dark curtain of blue speckled with tiny yellow stars separating a study from the rest of the building. The guard pushes you towards it. You glare back at the rudeness of your escort. Though you are still a captive, you are a famous gladiator. Your renowned skills earn you much recognition within the colosseum, and though fame does not grant you freedom, it provides you with status. Status that should keep from being treated so harshly, like a lamb led to slaughter. 

Unless that’s what you have become in such a short time. The god games are soon. Your heart cools like iron left out to crumble and crack at the thought of your patrons choosing to cast you aside for another—and forsake your chance for freedom.

A strong, steady voice speaks beyond the curtain.

“Enter, our champion.”

The guards step back in a unison beat of footsteps, standing tall and fearful of the gods they serve.

You however straighten with grizzled anticipation. You smooth down your chilton, a knee-length, short-sleeved tunic, and adjust the cloak carefully wrapped around your body. Stepping forward, you sweep the curtain aside and enter the study.

The room glitters lowly with the light filtering in from small square windows. A glow from the bronze couches, overrun with plush cushions, brightens the space. A center table piece of polished wood lies gilded in gold. The walls are finely decorated in frescoes of yellow ochre and blues so dark they’re almost black. 

Two astral beings fill the room with their radiance. You remain guarded as you bow yourself before them in reverence. Your patrons are powerful. You do not trust them.

One steps forward, his body flickering with living flames. He dons dark armor, cladded with a rich red cloak down his back. Gold chains bridge over his chest and attach to his shoulders with the rich symbol of the sun. Aptly decorated, for he is Sun.

A marking that is upon your lower back, a stamp of claim when you first became their champion, shares the symbol.

The second astral being leans against the wall, draped in shadows. Moon. You resist a shiver as his crimson, otherworldly eyes look over you with an expression you can’t read. He lingers on the scar on your face, and you nearly turn your head away in anger that he would openly gaze at the marred flesh you despise. His arms are folded, and his skin is the living flesh of the night sky, dark and deep blue, with tiny stars speckling his body. He wears gray linen, thin and climbing up his throat. A tendril not unlike a nightcap falls over his shoulder from behind his head, shimmering softly.

“Welcome,” Sun greets boldly. He gestures an open arm over the couches. “Make yourself comfortable.”

You silently pad to the bronze seat. Sitting down, you loathe how they stand over you, lording, commanding, an untouchable power radiating from their beings.

“You are stunning, our champion.” Sun steps closer, and draws his finger along the scar of your face, leaving a hot trail over the bridge of your nose. “Your physical prowess is lethal and your strategic cunning is a marvel to behold.”

You hold very still, jaw clenched and muscles pulled taut along the length of your body. The beat of your heart jumps.

“Yes?” you inquire.

Sun flashes a burning smile, his pale eyes flicking like candlelight.

“We have an offer for you.”

Moon steps forward. He studies you fiercely, eyes half-lidded before he speaks.

“Become our consort.”

You stare, struck by the astral beings. A thick haze takes over your mind.

They already claim you, a marking of a moon and sun sitting on your lower back, circled in black. You, their champion. But to become a consort would mean a fight you have never faced before. Would they use you? Bleed you dry of all your mortal love before casting you aside? Do they only care to preserve their favorite fighter?

You don’t dare lean into their silvered words. How can you?

“We are waiting for your answer, my champion.” Sun steps closer. He takes your hand and brings it to his mouth where the temperance warmth of his flames lick your knuckles. “You have never been so uncertain in battle. Why begin now?”

“If you accept, you will have freedom,” Moon rasps darkly. He slips like a shadows to your side. He gathers your other hand and drags the back of his finger down a scar that cuts the length of your forearm. “You may refuse if you wish.”

“And rot in the colosseum,” Sun punctures cheerfully. 

You shiver in equal parts fear and uncertainty.

Freedom. You could see your mother again, after all these years. She was frail before you were thrown into the gladiator fights. You have often imagined how unkind the years have been to her and your younger brother while you’ve been held away in the colosseum. How big has your brother grown? Has he moved on? Begun his own life? You hope so.

The two gods loom over you. You cannot keep them waiting.

You open your mouth, then close it, then open it again. This is not the simple task of cutting another down. This is your fate of dancing between the will of astral beings and your desires. 

Can you trust your patrons?

“I beg, my lords, for time to consider this most gracious offer,” you speak, cool and cordial, but careful.

The flames of Sun’s being flare for a heartbeat, and the heat upon your hand creeps to an unbearable degree. Moon’s hand tightens around your wrist as if to place you in shackles. Would it matter to them if a consort is willing or not?

Sun grins and releases your hand. “Very well. A day should be plenty for you to understand what a gift this is. Moon?”

“Agreed.” He sets your hand back on your lap with a rubied stare. “You may go.”

You bow again and slowly rise. Without a word, you leave their presence, their stares cutting through your spine and into your very core before the curtain falls. You breathe out.

Is freedom worth the price of becoming two gods’ consort?

Your quarters are meager, dusty pale walls with simple wooden furniture strangely strewed with lavish gifts from rich contributors and sponsors of your battles. There are letters from those you celebrate your victories and root for more bloodshed by your hand. 

If you accept being Sun’s and Moon’s consort, you are then slotted in as their champion for the god games, and winning such a battle would win you everything. Your gods’ affections, freedom, and the power to choose your fate—should your lords treat you well and properly.

You don’t believe they will simply adore you. They yearn for something. They wish to use up precious life at their whim.

But do you stay and fester, fighting until you grow older and more unbalanced, and a blade catches your heart?

What choice is there when it is between two shared fates of doom?

You do not light a lamp. You stay in the darkness and contemplate how you will answer in the morning. 

A disturbance pulls you from your brooding. Under your door, darkness shifts. Before you can reach for your weapon, a column of smoke slips into your room. It spills and twists upon itself. From it emerges a god.

Your eyes widen before you throw yourself down on your knees, and bow properly. Never had you hosted such a guest in your pitiful chambers.

“Eclipse,” you breathe.

“Do not speak,” he growls. The god holds his two sets of arms wide. His skin is dark maroon, almost colorless. His loose brown robes expose his chest and the burning orange star set within his chest like an exposed heart. His one eye glows not unlike embers pulsing within a fire. A fierce marring on his other eye removes it completely. He glides deeper into the darkness of your room, standing before you.

“Rise, and sit with me.” He moves without confirming your movement. Draping himself upon the humble workings of your dull wooden couch, he waits for you. His head tilts expectantly. His sharp teeth flash, waiting. 

You have no choice but to answer. Straightening, you rise to your feet and stand before him. His relaxed, reclined position on the couch is too uninhibited for your liking. 

The god smirks up at you, his tongue running over his wicked fangs.

“Sit.” He pats his thigh.

You do, falling into the god’s lap. His arm immediately wraps around your waist. You hold your breath steady as if you tread black water, afraid of sinking into his abysmal mass.

“I have come here to make you a most beautiful proposal.” His upper right arm finds your hair, cut short with an undershave, and strokes the scars over the back of your neck. It takes all your being to not shudder.

Your eyes flash to his in the darkness. 

He grins wickedly and snarls softly, “Become my champion.”

Your lips part, eyes widening. 

“Oh, I know,” he chuckles ruefully, “Sun and Moon think they can keep you all to themselves. But you don’t have to be tethered to them, dragged into their apathetic schemes. No, I will show you what a true champion deserves.”

You hold horrible still as his claws softly scrape over your hip bone. His eyes fall to your lower back side, where your chilton conceals the gods’ marking upon you.

“And you would not have to tell them you have chosen another,” he says, his eye half-lidded. “You need only to say you have accepted their proposal. Then you will watch them, study them, and tell me what you have found. What do they lack? Where do they stumble?”

You wish so horribly to speak but if an astral being commands you, you must obey. Your teeth grind softly together.

“Do this,” he lowers himself to your ear. His glinting teeth graze the shell of it, and you clench your fists, “and I will free you. I will adore you eternally.”

You hold yourself rigid under the god’s offer. That may be the ultimate demise. If you taunted Sun and Moon and betrayed them to another, how would they obliterate you? Your very being could be scattered to the cosmos like stardust. 

But Eclipse offers you something more. 

“You may speak,” he says and draws a clawed hand down your thigh. He clutches you close. His one eye admires you as if you were a golden crown.

Your mouth is dry. Wetting your tongue, you face the astral being as if he draws in the very light of the world into him. Nothing can escape, not even you.

“Do I have your sworn oath that no harm will come upon me should I agree to such a plot?” 

His single burning eye glimmers.

“Yes.” His hands tighten around you. “I give it now, pledging myself to you, gladiator. We will be equals. Though you will be consort in name, you hold the power of a god at your disposal when you accept my hand.”

You hold your breath. A god’s oath is too powerful, and unbreakable, even by their strengths. 

You could soon be free.

“I will give you the night to reach a decision.” Eclipse slides you off of his lap as if you were only a feather. He sets you sweetly back on the thin cushion of your couch. “By morning, when you return to Sun and Moon, I will have your answer. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Twisting smoke envelopes him. Again, the thick haze of his traveling form slips under the door, and you are left in the dark without his crackling orange light.

You don’t move. Your fate is in your hands, and you must choose.

[defectivevillain]

whispers in the night

pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi/Reader

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns used.

summary: When you can't fall asleep, you stumble out to the common room to get a snack—only to find Shinsou on the couch, similarly restless. After a moment's contemplation, you sit down next to him and the two of you share a quiet night in.

word count: 1.9k | ao3 version

warnings: exhaustion, fatigue, insomnia

You can’t fall asleep. 

Despite how incredibly busy your day has been—what with classes, sparring, and Quirk training—you’re still left staring up at the ceiling in frustration as you attempt to go to bed. You’ve had your eyes closed for roughly an hour or so, but you haven’t fallen asleep. Gritting your teeth, you decide to get up and grab something to eat. You’re not even sure if that little trick will help you fall asleep, but at this point, you’re desperate. As you quietly walk through the halls and into the common room, you’re surprised to find that someone else is also awake. You’re less surprised when you see Shinsou sitting on the couch, looking down at his phone.

“You look like a raccoon,” Shinsou says in lieu of a greeting. You point to the dark circles under your eyes and he nods. You mumble some half-assed explanation about being tired, before deciding to reply honestly. 

“That’s ironic, coming from you,” you say jokingly. Shinsou evidently expects the remark, because he simply rolls his eyes. Distracted from grabbing a snack, you move to sit next to him. The couch is surprisingly comfortable, and there are decorative pillows thrown about the cushions that Momo created a bit ago. You grab one and hold it against your chest. 

“Well, dark circles are typical for me,” Shinsou remarks casually, with a sense of resigned defeat. You immediately sense what he’s implying. 

“I know,” you acknowledge. He’s absolutely right, of course. You’re just not sure why you’ve been so sleepless lately. You tell him as much. “I’ve just been restless.” 

Shinsou nods silently. Immediately, you feel guilty for bemoaning your lack of sleep, when Shinsou is hardly ever able to sleep. Yet here you are, complaining about the one time that you’re awake at night. An apology is on the tip of your tongue when Shinsou inexplicably leans close to you. He stretches and grabs the remote on the cushion next to you before returning his attention to the television in front of you. A familiar icon appears on the screen. 

“Is that Netflix?” You ask, unable to keep the surprise from your voice. The lack of Netflix on the common room television has been a sticking point for many of your fellow classmates. You can recall countless times in which Kaminari or Sero practically begged Present Mic and Aizawa to get a shared Netflix account for the class. Their pleas never went very far, though. “Holy shit, how’d you-”

“Stole Aizawa’s password.” You stare at Shinsou, whose eyes are locked on the screen ahead. He clicks on the remote a few times, evidently selecting the right letters for the username and password. Even as he does so, it takes you several moments to process just what he said. 

“You did not,” you say in disbelief. 

“I did,” Shinsou grins, clicking on the yellow profile with your teacher’s name under it. Aizawa’s home screen comes up and you can’t help but laugh incredulously. Shinsou’s lips twist ever so slightly—he’s evidently proud of himself—and he turns to you. “What do you want to watch?”

The two of you eventually decide to watch The Great British Bake Off, since you don’t quite want to commit to watching something serious. Besides, you’re half-expecting that at least one of you will fall asleep. Shinsou clicks on an episode and you lean back against the couch. The pillows are strewn about the floor now; you promise yourself you’ll pick them up later.

The baking show is rather entertaining, you have to admit. Shinsou seems to think so too, as he occasionally huffs or smiles ever so slightly. You find yourself torn between watching the television and, well, watching him. The first episode passes within no time at all. Shinsou plays the next one and, in a sudden burst of spontaneity, you lean your head against the edge of your cushion. You're dangerously close to resting on Shinsou’s shoulder, but you manage to keep the distance between you. 

You do notice, however, that Shinsou’s arm is hovering on the back of the couch. Once you realize that, the show is suddenly far less captivating. Your heart races as his hand falls further down the back of the couch. Blinking slowly, you turn your attention back to the program. Unfortunately, your fatigued body decides to entirely disobey you, and you feel yourself falling into Shinsou’s shoulder before you can contemplate the consequences. Thankfully, he doesn’t shove you off of him or anything. In fact, his arm falls from the back of the couch to rest around your shoulders. 

You feel yourself beginning to grow tired as time passes, but you desperately want to remain awake and keep Shinsou company. It must be terribly isolating to constantly be restless at nighttime. Despite these thoughts, however, it doesn’t take long for your eyes to slip closed. You’re in a bit of an awkward position and Shinsou’s shoulder digs into your neck. Suddenly, you’re tugged to the side and into a significantly more comfortable position. You blink your eyes open briefly, surprised to find that you’re now pulled against Shinsou’s chest. Before you can overanalyze that, however, you’re drifting off again. 

An immeasurable amount of time later, you're roused from slumber and lightly jostled. You feel an arm supporting your back and another under your legs. Is someone... carrying you? You try to open your eyes, but your eyelids are stinging and you soon forget to resist sleep. 

The next time you wake, you find your phone alarm blaring extremely loudly. Groaning, you grab it and try to hit the snooze button. Unfortunately, it’s a bit too late for you to go back to sleep—the sheer volume of the alarm has entirely roused you from slumber. You sigh and push yourself up into a sitting position, electing to scroll through things on your phone for a few minutes. You grab your blanket and tug it up further, feeling chilly all of a sudden.

…Wait a second. Didn’t you fall asleep in the common room last night? You bite your lip and try to remember what happened. Sure enough, you went to the common room and watched TV with Shinsou. You look down at your blanket and frown. How did you end up back in your room? You definitely didn’t walk back. You try to recall the events of the last night, only to freeze upon remembering your short time awake. Someone had been carrying you. 

You’re suddenly immensely grateful that you don’t have a fire Quirk, otherwise your room would be entirely doused in flames. As it is, your heart is pounding treacherously in your chest. You can’t help but think about Shinsou’s arms around your back and legs, the ease with which he lifted you... 

Safe to say, you’re sufficiently frazzled for the rest of the morning. You scramble through your typical routine and grab a quick snack before deciding to go to class a bit early. Surprisingly, you’re far from the only one there. Iida is present, of course. Kirishima, Jirou, and Shinsou are all in their seats too. You greet everyone and walk over to your desk.

“How’d you sleep last night?” Kirishima asks once you sit down. He’s just so sweet. You’d been talking to him yesterday about your trouble sleeping, after all. You’re touched by his concern, of course, but his question immediately provokes what you’d been trying to forget—Shinsou carrying you back to your dorm.

“Oh, um, I slept well,” you choke out, feeling extremely flustered. You suddenly want the ground to swallow you whole. Feeling eyes on you, you turn to find Shinsou staring at you. The satisfied gleam in his eyes confirms your suspicions from before. You take a deep breath and turn back to Kirishima, getting lost in casual conversation. 

Throughout the rest of class, you feel Shinsou’s gaze burning into the back of your head. When the bell finally rings, signaling the end of the period, you sidle up to him and the two of you walk out of the room together. It’s lunchtime now, but neither of you are moving towards the cafeteria with any modicum of speed. Eventually, all of your classmates pass by and Shinsou and you are left alone in the hallway. 

“You didn’t have to carry me back,” you eventually say, once the tense silence between you grows to be unbearable. You can’t help but notice the furrow to Shinsou’s brows—a clear sign that he’s avoiding an answer. 

For a long moment, he is entirely silent. You decide to wait for Shinsou to explain. When he finally does break his silence, he says something entirely unexpected. “What if I wanted to?”

“What?” You ask, convinced you misheard him. 

“I... wanted to,” Shinsou repeats, significantly quieter this time. You blink at him a few times. Somehow, it’s still taking you a while to process just what he’s saying. When you finally comprehend his statement, your eyes widen and you stare at him in thinly-veiled surprise. 

“Oh,” you remark dumbly. “Well... thanks.” Maybe I should lose sleep and come out to the common room more often, you think to yourself. 

“Maybe you should,” Shinsou responds. It takes you several moments to realize that your last remark was voiced aloud and you suddenly feel like melting into an embarrassed puddle on the ground. But the expression on Shinsou’s face is nothing short of complete sincerity—coupled with an attractive confidence that you know to be a result of his extensive sparring sessions with Aizawa. 

“Maybe I will,” you say with a small smile. 

That night, you will venture out to the common room once more. Shinsou will be resting on the couch again and you’ll take your place beside him, before grabbing the remote and scrolling through Netflix. The two of you will stumble upon the account’s history and laugh at the shows Aizawa seems to enjoy, before choosing one to watch. This time, your head will fall on Shinsou’s shoulder much sooner; this time, he wraps an arm around your shoulder without hesitation. You’ll admit in murmurs that you enjoy spending time with him, and he’ll echo the sentiment. For a quick yet seemingly endless stretch of time, the two of you will sit in silence. Then, possessed by some otherworldly courage, you will lean close and ask to kiss him—only for him to meet you halfway and make the first move. 

Then, since the both of you have horrible luck, Aizawa will walk in and interrupt you. You will try to break apart, but it’ll be too late. For a long moment, your teacher will study the both of you, before an unimpressed expression appears on his face and he mentions that he got a notification that someone was using his Netflix account. Shinsou will try to play dumb—and you’ll remain silent, out of fear for your life—before Aizawa, knowing when to give in, huffs and bids you both a good night.

But right now it’s lunchtime, and all the words you want to say feel trapped under your tongue. And before you can summon the courage to even begin telling Shinsou just what he means to you, Kaminari appears out of nowhere and slings his arms around you both. The moment between Shinsou and you is temporarily broken, but you smile with the knowledge that you’ll reunite with him in the quiet night once more.

thanks for reading! <3

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[xianyoon]

you cannot be serious

neuvillette x gn reader where his melusine daughters get mischievous reupload from my prev. blog @.i23kazu. domestic & romantic fluff

the minute neuvillette steps into the house, his mind is already at ease. the air is warm, a stark contrast to the chilly autumn that decorates the outside world. you’ve already had the fire started from the time you reached home — your husband is grateful, taking his gloves off and warming his hands by the fire.

“welcome home, darling,” you croon, helping him take his jacket off. “dinner will be ready in half an hour, why don’t you go and rest?”

"have i mentioned that i'm grateful for you?" neuvillette smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. with another stolen kiss to the cheek, the man reappears from your room quickly, freshly showered and changed into a dark turtleneck. neuvillette moves to sit on the navy loveseat, gratefully nursing the warm mug of peppermint tea that you had prepared while the sounds of his shower going had become your white noise.

as he nestles into the soft cushions of the seat, your two little ones, mela and puca, giggle and push one of the books he had bought for them into his hands.

"pleeeeaaaseeeee, daddy?" mela whines, snuggling closer into his lap.

"didn't i read that to the both of you last night?" neuvillette raises his eyebrows in confirmation, not unkindly. he couldn't quite understand your girls' attachment to this particular book... not especially after narrating it to them, every night, without fail. nevertheless, neuvillette gently plucks the book out of his lap when mela and puca nod furiously, and the father adjusts his position – making space for the two girls to nuzzle on his lap. they stay in that spot for a while.

there's nothing but the sounds of the warm fire crackling alongside them, neuvillette's soft narration breaking through the quiet silence. even the girls know not to disturb the serenity of the scene they're in.

but the serenity seems to catch up to neuvillette – especially after a long day at the opera epiclése, the warmth and hearth of the home gently cover him like a freshly-warmed duvet. his words start to slur and trail off into nothing, and the book lays down to rest on his chest as he puts it down. your husband has finally succumbed to the warm lull of sleep, gently snoring.

mela and puca exchange a glance and giggle softly, deftly leaping off his lap and trotting to the next room to grab items for their next activity. papers and markers are held with childish eagerness, and the pair sprawl themselves out on the floor to continue, drawing cute foxes and flowers.

as tranquil as the house is, energy-filled little girls never are fully entertained by the limits of marker and paper.

and sometimes, little girls need to do what little girls do best – find another outlet. unfortunately, neuvillette had become too easy of an outlet by his proximity and lack of awareness.

puca quietly tiptoes to her sleeping father, leaving behind the forgotten, strewn about pieces of drawing block – and turns her attention to a snoozing neuvillette's face. mm... daddy wouldn't be angry, right?

the markers are back in use – swirly scribbles and smiley faces decorate neuvillette's cheeks, with brushes of bright yellow under his eyes and green whiskers. mela soon joins her sister, her red marker highlighting her father's lips. with the most mischievous grins only little girls could muster, puca giggles and gathers neuvillette's hair into tiny pigtails, his white hair sticking up at odd angles.

neuvillette is turned into a masterpiece.

well, a masterpiece, in your daughters' eyes.

perhaps mela had giggled too loudly, or puca had accidentally knocked her marker against neuvillette's cheek – but the older man starts to stir, noticing a wetness on his face.

"what happened?" he mumbles groggily, moving to sweep his hair out of his face – when he realises that he can't.

puca and mela hide behind the curtains, giggling.

"dear? i think there's something on my face, could you help me to check it?" neuvillette calls, and you set down your phone to make your way to the living room. he rubs his face with more vigour, but nothing comes off. strange.

"let me see-" a quiet oh. tumbles off your lips, momentarily caught off guard by the... sudden bedazzlement of your husband. you bite back a laugh, not wanting to embarrass him – but how can you keep a straight face when your husband is quite literally the embodiment of a girl dad right now? you tremble with laughter, spotting your mischievous little ones hiding behind the curtain.

"mela, puca, did you happen to give daddy a makeover?" you laugh lightly, searching for a mirror to hand to neuvillette. finally, one with a wooden handle is found, and he chokes at his clownified appearance.

"we did! isn't he pretty?" mela positively beams. neuvillette's heart breaks, and he doesn't have the heart to wash it off at this point.

"are you.. are you angry, daddy? mela and i just wanted to have fun, and the drawing paper wasn't enough." puca nervously toes the ground, her eyes not meeting neuvillette's.

"while i am, ah.. surprised, i could never be upset at the two of you, mes petits rayons de soleil." your husband smiles, his lips still painted cherry red. your little girls snuggle back into his arms, grinning and touching his face.

oh dear. that'd take a while to come off – but you snap as many pictures as you can, because this might not happen again anytime soon. your little mela and puca are the most pleased, and neuvillette would do anything to make it stay that way – even if it meant leaving his face of artwork on for a little longer.

[biggestxsimps]

hi uhmuhmuhm could i request connor dbh helping his s/o re-wrap the bandages for his s/h scars? maybe they got re-opened on accident and in the end they decorate the bandages with little drawings?? if you’re uncomfy with writings this by all means lmk i don’t wanna request smthn like this again!! have a lovely day🫶🏽

Here for you

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, it's such a cute idea and I loved writing it! I hope this did your request justice! I'm not too familiar with s/h and hope this makes sense. Please know that if you're struggling with anything like this, you're never alone.

WARNINGS: past self-harm scars (not descriptive), blood

Y/N was laying back on the cushions of his couch, eyes locked on the entertaining movie that was playing on the tv. His eyes trailed each scene, his mind numbing as he got into the action.

An itch on Y/N’s arm makes him quietly grumble, his eyes remaining on the screen as he scratches his wrist. But instead of feeling the sweet satisfaction of easing an itch, he feels a strong burning sensation. Y/N winces as he looks down at his arm, eyes widening as he sees where exactly he had scratched.

Y/N’s previous wounds had been opened up due to the excessive scratching on his wrist, Y/N used his other hand to cover the cuts that had started to seep blood.

Y/N stands up, bee-lining to the bathroom to avoid making a mess. He rushes past Connor, who had been in the kitchen. Y/N steps into the bathroom, closing and locking the door as he turns the tap on. Y/N cups water in his hand before letting it gently fall onto his burning wounds, wincing at the feeling.

Connor turns his head at the sound of loud and rushed steps, his LED turning a soft yellow at the sound of the bathroom door quickly closing. He puts aside whatever he was doing to walk over to the bathroom, gently knocking on the door as he called out to Y/N.

“Y/N? Are you okay in there?”

Y/N turns at the sound of his boyfriend, sighing as he walks over and slowly opens the door. Y/N looks into Connor’s eyes, a slightly saddened look on his face as he brings his arm into Connor’s view. “It was an accident, I didn’t mean to reopen them..”

Connor looks down at the wounds, his irises scanning the severity of it, seeing they were Y/N’s past self-inflicted injuries. He notices Y/N’s distress and nodded slowly, joining him deeper into the bathroom. The android holds his hand out to Y/N, taking his hand in his own as he guides the worried man to the edge of the bathtub.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Let’s get them cleaned up, okay?”

Connor smiles up at the man as he grabs a first aid kit from the sink cabinet, opening it and crouching in front of Y/N. Connor pulls out some wipes and a bandage, gently cleaning the weeping wounds, they hadn’t been fully opened, only letting out small drops of blood.

Connor gently wraps the bandage around Y/N's wrist, making sure it was tight enough to stop the bleeding but not tight enough to cause the man discomfort. "Does it hurt at all, love?" Connor looks from the wound into Y/N's eyes, giving him a soft and reassuring smile.

"Just stings a bit. Thank you, Connor."

Connor nods before leaning his head down, gently pulling Y/N's arm up to place a soft kiss on his boyfriend's bandages. "There, all cleaned up." Y/N's worries seem to disappear at Connor's soft actions, giving a thankful nod to the android.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Connor. Thank you."

Connor stands up from his spot, gently pulling Y/N up with him. The android wraps his arms around his lover, pulling him close as he kisses his cheek. "I'm always here for you, Y/N."

Y/N gives the other man a small nod, thankful for his partner's care. Connor takes a hold of Y/N's hand again, gently pulling him out of the bathroom and back into the living room. Connor pulls Y/N over to the couch, signaling for him to sit down.

As Y/N sits down, Connor walks over to the nearby desk, grabbing a couple markers and bringing them over to where the other man sat. Connor holds up the markers before smiling at his partner.

"Which colour do you want?"

Y/N confusedly smiled, pointing to one of his favourite colours of the bunch, Connor handing it to him. Connor puts aside the other markers as he grabs one for himself. Connor pulls off the lid and brings the tip to the newly wrapped bandages, he looks up into Y/N's eyes, almost like he was asking for permission.

Y/N realises what Connor wanted to do and warmly smiles, nodding softly before Connor gently doodles on the bandages. Connor starts off with soft little squiggles, then starts to use a little more focus as he draws the face of a familiar dog.

"Look, it's Sumo."

Y/N giggles at the sweet gesture, grateful for Connor's ability to calm him and brighten his mood. Y/N takes off the lid from his own marker, drawing small little pictures beside the ones Connor drew.

The two spent the evening laughing at their poorly drawn doodles, making each other smile as the night grew darker and Y/N's worries were replaced with gratitude.

A/N: Holy shit, we've hit 450 followers. Thank you guys so much for all your support, we really appreciate you all!

Masterlist

- Written by Owner 1

[jamneuromain]

I have an idea omg. We need more of Lloyd and reader... What about a situation when Lloyd got injured, like he kicked someone's ass , got his knuckles bleeding, or maybe he got a cut or smth... and the reader though she's aware of her blood-seeing problem ofc decided to help him, trying to fight her hemophobia best she could because Lloyd needed her help. Or it can be quite the opposite, the reader got hurt in some way, bleeding a bit, and Lloyd decided to help her because he knows her reaction to seeing blood and all. What do you think?😬☺

Hi Elena😌❤️ （sorry that it took so long I accidentally deleted my draft ... and took very long to recover from the devastating fact :l

Your "Lloyd got hurt" idea certainly is very interesting....👀

So, what would happen if Lloyd got hurt and he has no one else to turn to but his secretary with hemophobia...🤔

Bleed Out

Lloyd Hansen x You

Warning: Mob AU, Mob!Lloyd, Secretary!Reader (Driver!Denny Carmicheal), Graphic Depiction of Blood and Violence (I guess Lloyd is a warning of his own?), Reader has hemophobia (fear of blood), a lot of cursing.

Summary: Lloyd is under your protection for now.

A/N: This is the sequel to A Whiff of Blood, Thank you for all your love to Mob!Lloyd<333

One thing, one particular feature you like about the apartment you're living in, is that this little condo - along with the rest of the building and five other blocks in the vicinity, belongs to a high-end resident community that has strict security guard patrol schedules and limited key-card access. These precautions resulted in rocket-high market prices and a rather wealthy neighborhood, as the owner of these buildings forbids renting, for every keycard that could access the front gate, elevators, and their matching apartments, accompanied by facial recognition embedded in the little chip. When you get home every night (or afternoon, if you are lucky), you have to press your keycard and stand before the camera before the gate grants you inside. This brings quite some comfort for you, working for a mob boss named Lloyd Hansen, and knowing that his associates are basically "wanted" by rival gangs for the valuable information they possess.

While it is impossible that you could afford such an exquisite apartment with your salary, though very well-paid, you are truly grateful because Lloyd signed this condo - his condo - to you without a word (or asking a dime from you) when you told him during your final interview that you will be needing a week to relocate before starting the job.

That's when you made up your mind that Lloyd Hansen is a boss worthy to work for.

It's not a big place. Having two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen. Decorated in white, black, and grey, clearly matching Lloyd's taste when he asked his lawyer to give you the key card and have you move in.

You've lived here for three years now. Adding soft cushions and light-colored sets to the tedious design here and there. Like the sunflower tablecloth and daisy plates and bowls. Like the pink polka dot sheets and duvet covers. And the fluffy slippers, taken out from the cabinets, ready to be put on as soon as fuzzy socks don't work their magic any more.

You are finishing washing the mug you just used. After putting it on the racks, you wipe your hands with a clean cloth. It is a workday tomorrow, and you intend to sleep early to wake up with a fresh spirit to deal with your (sometimes) moody boss. Treating yourself to a nice little read in the bedside lamp radiating yellow glow - another decoration that you feel much needed for this place, you reach out to turn off the lamp when there's a sudden rush of knock on your door.

You zip your mouth shut.

The news two weeks ago, about a woman who was curious about the baby crying at her door, was yanked out of her apartment as soon as she opened the door, being raped and killed in her own bed.

You are smart enough not to ask "Who is it", letting this unexpected guest learn that a young female is at home.

When the unexpected visitor doesn't hear your reply, they knock on the door more fiercely, nearly knocking your heart out of your throat.

You remember the tutorial online: Approach the door with caution, and check the surveillance camera. If there's no one in sight, call the cops. If there's anything out of the ordinary, like a baby or a kitten by the door, call the cops.

In summary, call the cops.

Your fingers hover above your phone, having the police number on speed dial, when you turn on the surveillance camera monitor by the door.

A very bruised, cut, and tired Lloyd, having a gun in his hand, banging on your door as he winces in pain.

"Goodness gracious-" Your gasp gets stuck in your throat. Opening the door in an instant, there's nothing else in your mind than keeping him alive. Your goosebumps on high alert as Lloyd's eyes scan over you. You pull him in, checking that the hallway is secure, before closing the heavy door as quietly as possible.

You turn to him, "Mr. Han-" Your words stop mid-sentence as you feel the need to fight the bile down your throat.

Yes. Mr. Hansen is very much covered in the one thing you hate most in the world.

Blood.

Blood splattered on his chest, his ridiculous choice of the blue-white striped polo shirt and cuts littered over his face and bare arms. His pants are dripping. Some crimson-colored liquid will stick permanently onto your floor and your beloved carpet.

Redness, some stained into near-brown, all over his figure.

You hold your breath, not letting the iron taste linger to make matters worse.

Lloyd walks, more like limps to each of your rooms - now that you can breathe a little while the blood smell is gone temporarily, and convince yourself that it's just ketchup on your boss (though you doubt that trick works) - and inspects each of them with his finger on the gun's trigger.

Taking in the whole situation, three things pop into your mind.

Lloyd is in desperate need of medical attention.

You are most likely to faint as soon as he returns, seeing this amount of blood.

Lloyd wouldn't knock on your door if this isn't desperate for him as well.

As Lloyd approaches, you are wrecking every brain cell to work a way out of this.

" 'S anyone here?" He asks, pulling the safe of his gun back on, before plopping down on your couch and groaning because he most definitely pulls one or two, if not a few of his wounds.

However, one of THE most brilliant ideas comes to you when you are holding your breath.

You shake your head, raising one finger to tell him you need a moment - or you hope that your running off conveys the message, and dash towards your bathroom.

Lloyd sags down on the couch, not even bothering to get up or turn his head to watch whether you've pulled out a gun pointing at him. You probably wouldn't do so, since you chose to pull him in, instead of letting him bleed out by your door.

When you appear in front of him again, his body briefly stuns a moment, before emerging in a burst of full-blown laughter. He laughs so hard that his laughter turns into coughs, which leads to him pressing his hand over his chest in case he tears his wounds further.

You place your hands on your hips. Compared to him, you are least amused by your idea.

You smoothed your hair back and put on your scuba diving goggles from a paid leave last year. Lloyd personally oversaw your two-week vacation, paying from your hotel suite to your travel expenses, and even ordering you full scuba diving equipment for your one-hour scuba lesson.

Of course, you weren't actually interested in becoming an expert, but the scuba equipment was too nice to be thrown away.

"Not funny." You breathe through your mouth. Even though the orange plastic - or glass, you don't quite know which - changes how the bloody Lloyd looks in your eyes, it still doesn't completely change the idea that Lloyd is, in fact, covered in blood, as much as you don't want to think about it. And it definitely doesn't block the smell of blood, which probes the nerves at the back of your nose whenever you breathe through your mouth.

Lloyd scans your "outfit", his laughter slowly dials down, eventually turns into a lazy smile ghosting his lips, "You're right. It's not."

It's over 10:30 pm, and you usually would have been sleeping, or lying on your bed, at least. But no, you are stuck in the living room with your boss who's about to die any minute, and you are only able to stand in front of him, alive and thinking, with a fucking scuba mask on.

So, fuck this.

You roll your eyes at your cold-blooded boss. "Should I call your doctor? Or send you to the hospital?"

The smirk disappears.

Although he didn't say "no" to the hospital, by now you've realized the hospital choice was crossed off the board, as he chose you instead of ringing the police - which will no doubt lead to an investigation since Lloyd is the most notorious mob in Los Angles.

You search for the first aid bag that you stocked away when you moved in. It has rarely been used.

"Doc's dead." He murmurs, but loud enough for you to understand. He spoke with a sadness that only appears when he has lost one of his people. "I took Jared to his clinic."

You know Jared, he is one of the muscles working for Lloyd. He helped take care of one of Lloyd's rivals, Brewer.

"The deal with the Russian mobs tonight went wrong, but we got out in one piece." Lloyd explains curtly, "I got him to Doc's place to get stitched up. But we were attacked... Doc died, so did Jared."

So... two of his people.

Medical alcohol and Q-tips were picked from the bag, then a roll of gauze. You place those on the coffee table.

"I think you need something bigger than a Q-tip." He chuckles, unbuckling his belt, removing his pants. You open your mouth wanting to argue it's probably best that he doesn't move right now, but you silence yourself when you see a flesh wound -

Blood trickles down his thigh, leaving a scorched round hole on his leg. You turn your head to the other side as soon you feel the need to hurl. Even with your goggles on, deep down, you know that it's blood, not ketchup, nor some red paint oozing from his body.

“Don’t puke on my shoes. Crocodiles died for it.” A strangled grunt comes out of his mouth when he finished speaking, having your heart tug in the slightest of agony.

The belt he took off just now is turned into an instant tourniquet on his thigh. The blood drips slower than it did, but it keeps ruining your carpet.

“Yeah, I bet the crocodile spirits hate you right now.” You mutter under your breath, snatching a face mask from the first-aid kit, taking a small inhale after you put it over your face.

Much, much better now.

Lloyd snorts out a short laugh, “You look like one of those bird-man in the Middle Ages when they are battling the plague.”

“Yeah well,” You place your hand on your hips, feeling somewhat braver to deal with this bloody mess all over your living room, “You’re about to bleed out on my couch, so let’s start with you telling me what else I can help with.”

Lloyd spares a glance at you when he’s busy rolling the gauze and pressing it onto his gunshot wound, his expression uninterpretable. Though you would guess that he is mildly impressed.

“Got any liquor? Something strong?” He raises his brows almost challengingly, “I don’t see any painkillers here, so … Bourbon? Whiskey? Scotch? Anything?”

You do have a bottle of whiskey that your cousin gave to you when you moved in. He’d come to visit and lend a helping hand from time to time. You take two glasses from the cupboard and half a bottle of whiskey.

You could use some liquid courage with a murder scene and your psycho boss in the middle of this lovely condo.

With the aid of whiskey and your patching and cleaning of the rest of the wounds, Lloyd is able to sleep through the night soundly without worrying about being a rigid corpse in the morning.

Yawning, and accidentally stretching his patched-up wounds, he allows a string of curses to flow out of his lips. Judging by the sunlight peeking through your curtains, he’d say it’s 9 or 10 in the morning. Last night, he was tired when the adrenaline gradually faded away, and he did not have the chance to take a close look at your – used to be his – place.

You did not put this place through any major changes, just some minor traces, reminding him that he is, in a sense, invading this cozy little apartment with his banged-up body.

With a decent set of fresh suit, shirt, and tie on the chair beside the bed.

Faint murmurs come from the other side of the door, Lloyd tenses up immediately, pulling his gun under the pillow, where he stocked last night, and turns the doorknob slowly.

“… shut up.” He hears you smack someone’s arm jokingly.

Your voice blends in with the voice in his memory of last night, when he winced in pain as you tried to take out glass shards from his forehead with a pair of tweezers, when he swung another gulp of whiskey from the bottle.

“Fucking hell, woman, I swear you’re trying to scoop my brains out rather than finding the glass pieces.” He grumbled.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kick you out, Mr. Hansen. Now I’m kindly asking you to shut up so I can take care of your wounds before it could get any worse.” You said impatiently, having struggled between the discomfort in your stomach and your determination to get him patched up, but adjusted your attitude soon after, keeping your mouth shut and pushing his upper body so he would lean on the couch and be still, while you turned on the flashlight to search the little glass piece on his forehead.

The warm and shallow breath fell on the ridge of his nose. It was broken, sure, tingling and itching, but it also meant that you were close, close enough to kiss-

“Cuz, are you sure that-”

The male voice is cut off when Lloyd in a black suit appears in front of you and a young man. One of his hands behind his back, you know far too well he’s holding the gun and will shoot your cousin’s brain out if you don’t explain quickly.

“Morning Mr. Hansen. This is my cousin, Connor Ashborne, studying at UCLA Med School.” You smile politely towards your boss, “I called for him to check up on you, since you refused to go to any doctor with a gunshot wound. He’s here to provide professional medical assistance.”

“Mr. Hansen,” the young man extends his hand for Lloyd to shake, “I’ve heard of a lot of things about you.”

“Lots of bad things, I hope.” Lloyd throws in a comment half-sarcastically, plopping himself down on the couch, ignoring your cousin’s extending hand, “Shit.” When he stretches his wounds again, the gauze must have clotted with his flesh for this level of pain.

“Cuz?” Conner turns his choice to your hand, “It’s your call. I can’t force your boss to do anything.”

“Yeah, me neither.” You mutter, “He’s more stubborn than a bull with eyes on the red flag.”

“Careful there, sunshine.” Lloyd gulps down some whiskey, numbing the pain in his thigh, “I can hear ya’ loud and clear.”

You silently shrugged towards your cousin, letting him know that you could not be of help any more than he did. “You should probably head to your classes.” You speak softly towards Connor, “Say hi to your sister for me, will you?”

“Sure thing, cuz. Remember those antibiotics and pain meds for the... patient in the kit.” He pulls you into a hug, “No need to thank me, I know, I'm one of a kind.”

Yeah, he's a one-of-a-kind dick when he wants to be. You can't help but smile knowing that his ego bloated after coming to your aid.

“I’ll see you around Christmas, yeah?”He asks.

“Around Christmas.” You confirm, patting his back.

Connor shoots you a wink and a “Bye, cuz”, grabbing the bicycle helmet on the kitchen counter and rushing out of your apartment like a gust of wind.

"A-hem." Lloyd clears his throat.

You let out a long exhale, realizing the big problem-o is still sitting on the couch like he owns this place – he indeed still does, as you have helped combing through his real estate. He owns the whole residential community – more specifically, has a lot of shares in the company which runs this residence, at the very least. Putting your best, and most professional courtesy on, you ask Lloyd, “I’ve called Denny earlier this morning. He’s now driving around the block. Denny has driven to your place and picked up the usual breakfast from your cook. Should I call him and tell him to come up? Or you’d like to head to the office right now?”

“Tell him to come up. I’ve been shot. It seems fair to skip work this morning.” Lloyd has the usual smug smile on his face. Stepping into his crocodile shoes onto the floor, spreading his arms over the couch, he looks down at the ground before narrowing his eyes and raising a sharp question: “You’ve had the carpet thrown out?”

Of course, you’ve had the carpet thrown out. Or you would throw up five times per hour.

You thought so when carrying the blood-soaked carpet downstairs, after making sure Lloyd was asleep around midnight. As his secretary, it is your job to make sure he doesn’t have to worry about anything besides his business.

You carried the carpet downstairs, avoiding cameras as carefully as possible, with your ridiculous scuba goggles and face mask on, and dumped the carpet, into another residence trash can two blocks further. With his blood and his scent on it, it is easy to lure those henchmen away if they bring hounds to search for Lloyd.

Lloyd does not go down without a fight, that you were certain. You were also certain of the fact that the transaction gone wrong would make relative parties involved less than happy, hence the ambush at Doc’s place. If they struck once, it seemed possible that they would strike again, knowing that Lloyd was hurt.

Also packing hydrogen peroxide, a powerful bleach, and a pack of Q-tips with you, you carefully erased the traces of Lloyd’s blood from the street to your residence building, and inside the elevator.

“Miss Y/L/N!” The security guard exclaimed on seeing you back inside the building. He was smart enough not to comment on you pulling your scuba goggles and face mask off, but smiled warmly, “A rough night?”

You smile back, “Hi Henry. I hate to pull ranks on you, Henry, I really do. But in less than ten minutes you are going to get a call from your boss, who has gotten a call from his boss, asking you to do exactly what I tell you to, which is to make a copy of the surveillance footage of the security cameras, and delete the original copy stored in the computers stored somewhere in this building. You are also going to tell me whether anyone has dropped by when your shift ends this morning, who looks suspicious, asking questions even though they don’t live here.”

The smile froze on Henry’s face, “Miss Y/L/N, it’s against the company orders…”

Just then, the phone on Henry’s desk rang, which Henry took the minute it made a sound.

The smile turned to a serious frown.

“…Yes. Yes, Sir. I’ll see to it.” He hung up the phone after a polite “Good night”, straightening his security guard uniform, and moved around the desk, “This way, Ma’am.”

After burying your head in the toilet bowl and throwing up almost half an hour ago, you had used your cell phone and called Lloyd's business partner up ahead, told him that Lloyd had issued a command to erase surveillance camera footage of a specific building and asked to keep a copy.

His business partner, hauled up from his bed because of this phone call in the middle of the night, knew better than to refuse.

… and that was why the Russian mob drove through the block later that morning at 1 a.m. and did not find a trace of Lloyd taking shelter in your condo after circling the area for quite some time.

Taglist (Also tagging those who might be interested): @stargazingfangirl18 @sarahdonald87 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @magnificentsaladllama @biteofcherry @petalj @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @thezombieprostitute @yiiiikesmish @warriorblu @vonalyn @notathingjustthere @lokislady82 @irishhappiness @toozmanykids @alicedopey @cakesandtom @universitypenguin @openup-yourmind @helenaeisenhower @wilsons-striped-ties @tittittoee @bean-is-reading

Find A Whiff of Blood Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[cybunii]

DOCTOR !!

a/n: I wanted to add smut so bad but writers block is literally killing me...

Pairing: Steve Raglan/William afton x gn!reader

cw: power difference, age gaps, uhh inappropriate doctor? no smut, just suggestive talk, maybe stalker-ish behavior

-

You took a deep breath and walked into the surprisingly cold building, avoiding eye contact with the people waiting in the lobby.

You check in at the front for your appointment, a quick checkup with Dr. Raglan at 2:30. He wasn’t your normal doctor, but since he was the only one available, you had to make due.

You had been feeling well but decided to come in anyway. Besides, what harm could a checkup do? 

You sit in one of the chairs, anxiously bouncing your leg up and down. Places like this always made you nervous, you had no reason for it, but you couldn’t calm the extreme nervousness you felt in hospitals and doctor's offices. 

“…?” 

You hear a woman call your name and you quickly stand up, making small talk with her as she leads you down the hallway to the room.

She takes your blood pressure and asks you questions about allergies and any new medications, the average standard questions. 

“Okay, you’re all set! Dr.Raglan will be in to see you shortly.” The woman cheerfully exclaimed, nodding, before shutting the door behind her.

You look around at all the framed diplomas, degrees, and bunny-themed decorations around the room. 

Your eyes are drawn to the one on the desk. You pick it up and observe it in your hands. A small yellow ceramic bunny sitting down, and the back is decorated with tiny orange spots. Some of the paint is smudged off, and its eye is partially missing, but it’s cute nonetheless.

You hear footsteps getting closer to the door and you quickly place it back, hoping it’s in the same position it was in. 

A few knocks on the door and he steps in. 

You give a small grin to him as he sits down, your eyes roaming his body as he turns the computer on. 

He was wearing the typical white coat, paired with sleek black pants, a tight-fitting button-up shirt, and a grape-colored tie complimenting his rather muted outfit. 

His intense gaze was focused on the digital screen in front of him, his lean shoulders slightly hunched over. The contours of his arms and toned back were accentuated by the tight-fitting shirt he wore. Even when concentrating, his natural charm was impossible to hide behind those piercing eyes and sharp focus. You can't help but look at him, even if he is completely aware of your gaze.

-

Steve- 

No. 

William was fully aware of your staring. 

A slight grin appears on his face as he continues to stalk through your information on the computer, keeping a mental note of each small detail for later. 

He deliberately set up this appointment, making sure he was the only one to see you today. A check-up was a good enough excuse, knowing he didn't have enough credentials to perform any other exams. 

-

Dr.Raglan clears his throat and your eyes dart up to meet his, embarrassment creeping up to settle on your face. 

“Well, today is a simple procedure.” He says, abruptly standing up, walking over to the counter, and grabbing gloves. He casually slides the gloves over his hands, your eyes almost trained on them. 

He walks back over and gestures to the table. You nod and carefully lay down on the hard table, the supposed cushion under you failing to provide any comfort. You try to focus on the uncomfortable feeling, not wanting to bring any attention to the clearly attractive doctor about to feel you up. 

“Just gonna lift this up, okay?” He says, a more gentle tone added to his deep voice. His hands gradually lift the hem of your shirt up and bunch it near your chest. His fingertips barely graze your skin and you take a sharp breath in, your heartbeat quickening. 

His hands press into your abdomen, not enough to hurt but enough so that it's uncomfortable. Your face scrunches a bit before he lets up, testing to see if anywhere is sensitive. 

“Did that hurt?” He whispers, quickly pressing down on another spot. 

You shake your head, your eyes avoiding his intense gaze. “No…” 

His hands trail even lower, pressing a little above your belt. “What about this?” He murmurs, his hungry gaze watching your every reaction. 

You bite your lip and shake your head again, your eyes meeting his when he keeps his hands in place. 

“You sure?” He asks, pressing his hands into you even harder. 

You wince and wiggle a bit, trying to relieve the pain by moving. “Uh- yeah, that hurts a bit..” You say, looking up at him with an uncomfortable expression. 

He hums and takes his hands off, throwing the gloves away in the nearby trash can. You take a deep breath in and rub the sore spot, knowing it'll be a bruise by tomorrow. 

“Let me do that…” He mumbles, his now bare hands rubbing the sore spot, the heat radiating from them feeling very good. 

“..feels g-good..” You stutter, instantly regretting saying anything due to the tone your voice decides to use. He raises his eyebrow and smirks, his look basically mocking you. 

He hums again, his hands grazing across your waist now, almost testing you. 

Time almost stands still for a minute, the only sounds of soft breathing filling the room. His hands pull away and he sits down at the computer, leaving you lying there. 

You frown and pull your shirt back down, finally sitting up and stretching from lying down for that long. 

You stare at the back of his head for what feels like ages. The sound of the quick typing almost drives you crazy. He turns around in the chair and stares at you, almost scanning you with his eyes. 

“You're a little sensitive, but overall everything seems to be okay. You’re as healthy as you can be!” He says, clasping his hands together.

You grin, nodding your head. “That's great to hear-”

“Though, I might have a suggestion” He says, cutting you off. 

You raise your eyebrows, giving him a confused look. 

“There was a study released recently, a huge list about many things someone should do everyday to make sure they stay healthy. The study was conducted by many educated scientists and doctors, so don’t have any worries about whether it's fake or not. We've all seen those websites…” He explains, pretty much rambling at this point. 

“Anyways, there was one on there that I think would suit your…” He pauses, his gaze sizing you up. “Needs.”

Your face scrunches up, the confusion still all over your features. “I’m sorry- My needs?” You ask, slight embarrassment creeping up on your face at the hidden meaning of those words. 

His once innocent grin widens into a wicked smile, quickly standing up and towering over you.

“Don't act so shy…You know what im talking about sweetheart” He murmurs, his rough hand going to rest on your thigh.

His hand gently strokes your thigh, inching its way up. You try to move your leg, but it is difficult, his strong grip keeping you in place. 

His face moves closer to yours, slowly, ever so slowly. 

Your heart hammers away in your chest, your body heating up at his touch and his breath getting closer and closer to you. 

“I'll give you the first dose…” He whispers, his hungry eyes practically glued to your lips. He smirks and leans in, his lips are soft and warm. They meet yours, and he starts to slowly kiss you. 

His other hand moves up off your thigh, and it brushes lightly against your skin. You can feel the touch, but it isn't aggressive or forced. It is a hungry yet gentle kiss, filled with passion. 

He groans and breaks the kiss, looking at you with an amused expression. You shudder at his warm breath hitting your face as he speaks, your face continuing to flush at the closeness. 

“Do you think you would be interested in learning more?” He asks, an expecting look on his face, begging, maybe demanding for you to give in. 

You think for a moment, your mind still reeling from the sudden kiss.

You nod your head a few times and he grins, turning around and finding an appointment card. “For when you need a higher dose” He says, handing you a card with an address quickly scribbled on it. 

“I'll be expecting a visit very soon…” He leans closer to you, whispering in your ear in a lust filled tone. He smirks again and stands up, opening the door for you to leave. 

You lift yourself off the table and quickly leave, glancing behind you to see him still staring at you. 

You stare at the card once you get in the car, your hand going up to softly touch your lips. It's like you can still feel his touch.

Maybe you should make another appointment…

-

word count: 1.5k

[i23kazu]

YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS

characters. neuvillette x gn!reader genre. romantic ; domestic fluff. an. soft dad neuvillette! where neuvillette takes a nap and wakes up dollified by his melusine daughters. | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

the minute neuvillette steps into the house, his mind is already at ease. the air is warm, a stark contrast to the chilly autumn that decorates the outside world. you’ve already had the fire started from the time you reached home — your husband is grateful, taking his gloves off and warming his hands by the fire.

“welcome home, darling,” you croon, helping him take his jacket off. “dinner will be ready in half an hour, why don’t you go and rest?”

"have i mentioned that i'm grateful for you?" neuvillette smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. with another stolen kiss to the cheek, the man reappears from your room quickly, freshly showered and changed into a dark turtleneck. neuvillette moves to sit on the navy loveseat, gratefully nursing the warm mug of peppermint tea that you had prepared while the sounds of his shower going had become your white noise.

as he nestles into the soft cushions of the seat, your two little ones, mela and puca, giggle and push one of the books he had bought for them into his hands.

"pleeeeaaaseeeee, daddy?" mela whines, snuggling closer into his lap.

"didn't i read that to the both of you last night?" neuvillette raises his eyebrows in confirmation, not unkindly. he couldn't quite understand your girls' attachment to this particular book... not especially after narrating it to them, every night, without fail. nevertheless, neuvillette gently plucks the book out of his lap when mela and puca nod furiously, and the father adjusts his position – making space for the two girls to nuzzle on his lap. they stay in that spot for a while.

there's nothing but the sounds of the warm fire crackling alongside them, neuvillette's soft narration breaking through the quiet silence. even the girls know not to disturb the serenity of the scene they're in.

but the serenity seems to catch up to neuvillette – especially after a long day at the opera epiclése, the warmth and hearth of the home gently cover him like a freshly-warmed duvet. his words start to slur and trail off into nothing, and the book lays down to rest on his chest as he puts it down. your husband has finally succumbed to the warm lull of sleep, gently snoring.

mela and puca exchange a glance and giggle softly, deftly leaping off his lap and trotting to the next room to grab items for their next activity. papers and markers are held with childish eagerness, and the pair sprawl themselves out on the floor to continue, drawing cute foxes and flowers.

as tranquil as the house is, energy-filled little girls never are fully entertained by the limits of marker and paper.

and sometimes, little girls need to do what little girls do best – find another outlet. unfortunately, neuvillette had become too easy of an outlet by his proximity and lack of awareness.

puca quietly tiptoes to her sleeping father, leaving behind the forgotten, strewn about pieces of drawing block – and turns her attention to a snoozing neuvillette's face. mm... daddy wouldn't be angry, right?

the markers are back in use – swirly scribbles and smiley faces decorate neuvillette's cheeks, with brushes of bright yellow under his eyes and green whiskers. mela soon joins her sister, her red marker highlighting her father's lips. with the most mischievous grins only little girls could muster, puca giggles and gathers neuvillette's hair into tiny pigtails, his white hair sticking up at odd angles.

neuvillette is turned into a masterpiece.

well, a masterpiece, in your daughters' eyes.

perhaps mela had giggled too loudly, or puca had accidentally knocked her marker against neuvillette's cheek – but the older man starts to stir, noticing a wetness on his face.

"what happened?" he mumbles groggily, moving to sweep his hair out of his face – when he realises that he can't.

puca and mela hide behind the curtains, giggling.

"dear? i think there's something on my face, could you help me to check it?" neuvillette calls, and you set down your phone to make your way to the living room. he rubs his face with more vigour, but nothing comes off. strange.

"let me see-" a quiet oh. tumbles off your lips, momentarily caught off guard by the... sudden bedazzlement of your husband. you bite back a laugh, not wanting to embarrass him – but how can you keep a straight face when your husband is quite literally the embodiment of a girl dad right now? you tremble with laughter, spotting your mischievous little ones hiding behind the curtain.

"mela, puca, did you happen to give daddy a makeover?" you laugh lightly, searching for a mirror to hand to neuvillette. finally, one with a wooden handle is found, and he chokes at his clownified appearance.

"we did! isn't he pretty?" mela positively beams. neuvillette's heart breaks, and he doesn't have the heart to wash it off at this point.

"are you.. are you angry, daddy? mela and i just wanted to have fun, and the drawing paper wasn't enough." puca nervously toes the ground, her eyes not meeting neuvillette's.

"while i am, ah.. surprised, i could never be upset at the two of you, mes petits rayons de soleil." your husband smiles, his lips still painted cherry red. your little girls snuggle back into his arms, grinning and touching his face.

oh dear. that'd take a while to come off – but you snap as many pictures as you can, because this might not happen again anytime soon. your little mela and puca are the most pleased, and neuvillette would do anything to make it stay that way – even if it meant leaving his face of artwork on for a little longer.

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki @adeptuscharm @diorlumx @vennnnn-diagram @ryuryuryuyurboat @yuminako @st0pthatsgay @aqualesha @sixtynintharchon @supernova25 @kunikuda-simp (send ask/comment to be added to taglist)

mes petits rayons de soleil. – my little rays of sunshine.

reblogs w/ tags & comments help me lots !!! if you liked this, consider dropping me a follow as well :-) they all go a long way!

[nayelixz]

A Mediocre Date?

After the marriage between Yugo and Amalia, of course they’d want to spend all their time together, though this desire is almost unattainable, due to the amount of work and pick up needed after the Necromes had attacked the World of Twelve. But tonight, Yugo has set up something that he hopes that’ll relieve Amalia from her stress.

————————————————————————

“Oh Sadida, Yugo! You cannot believe how tired I am! I’m almost drained from helping out almost half of the kingdom.”

“Well I hope you’re not too drained, because I have a surprise for you!”

Amalia raises her head off the bed, wondering what surprise her husband has in store.

“But first! You gotta close your eyes.”

“Are you being serious? If I close my eyes I’m falling asleep.”

“Come on Ami, just close your eyes. It’ll be worth it.”

“Alright, but you better lead me there quick or bonne nuit!” (little french joke there… IM ONLY IN UNIT 4 ON DUOLINGO BEFORE YOU SAY ITS NOT FUNNY 😭)

“Oh, It won’t take long, we’ll be there before you can say tofu.”

“To-“

In the blink of an eye, they were there.

“Alright you can open them in.. 3… 2… 1… okay, now!”

As the princess opened her eyes she saw the most beautiful sight she’s ever seen, even more beautiful than the sunsets she watches everyday. They were nearby a waterfall hidden within the Sadida forest and flowers that were shaped into a heart shape, white, yellow, and pink flowers as fireflies filled the air. It was quiet, and quiet was perfect.

“Wow.. Yugo this is.. very childish but surprisingly romantic.”

“Thank- Wait, how is this childish?!”

“Well the flowers in a heart shape? Not saying it isn’t cute because trust me it’s adorable, but it reminds me of something a teen would do!”

“Oh..”

The eliatrope looked slightly upset, he didn’t know that this wouldn’t be enough.

“But, this, it’s beautiful. The waterfall, the fireflies, and the flowers, they’re all beautiful.”

While saying this, Amalia pecks Yugo on the cheek. Making his frown fade away, and turn into a soft smile.

“That’s not all, I got more for tongiht.”

“Really? What is it?”

As soon as Amalia said that, the eliatrope has grabbed her by her waist and pulled her in, to where their bodies are touching, as Yugo leans in and kisses her on the lips. The passionate kiss between the two lasts almost forever, until Amalia pulls away, gasping for air. Seeing the is makes Yugo chuckle, even though he has no place to laugh, his wings are stimming like crazy.

“You need air?”

“Well if I knew that this kiss would last that long I would’ve made sure to take a moment to gather myself! Plus, you can’t be talking, I know you’re way much more happier about this than me.”

“How do you know?”

She points at his hat, his wings still going crazy as ever, making him a little embarrassed himself.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to hide the fact that you loved it.”

“Would I be wrong to say I did?”

“No, I think the only reason you liked it that much is because it’s me!”

He rolled his eyes playfully, of course he’d enjoy it that much, it’s his wife! He hasn’t been apart of any other relationships since. Amalia is his first.

“Yeah, come with me..”

Yugo had grabbed the princess’s hand and had created a portal to the INSIDE OF THE WATERFALL?

“W-Wait YUGO IM NOT-“

Before she could finish her sentence, they were there, BOTH soaked in water, but behind the waterfall looked like a secret hangout, there was two porch swings, one covered in green and white flowers, white cushioning with a beautiful white fluffy pillow, and the other one with black cushioning, with a blue pillow, it seemed less decorated than the other swing, but it still seemed comfortable. There was flowers on the top sides of the roof of the cave-like rock shelter and a little wooden coffee table with the little wooden figures of the gang, Dally, Eva, Yugo Amalia, and of course, Ruel.

“YUGO! Come on! I told you I wasn’t ready to enter the waterfall!”

“Oops.. sorry”

The princess started pouting, after a hardworking day, she didn’t want to get SOAKED by a waterfall. She just wanted to lay down and relax. But then she looked around and saw the hangout area, once again, not over the top but, peaceful.

“Sorry, I- Amalia…”

“Yugo, I know, you tried and thank you for that, but what is this supposed to be?”

“I just wanted to show you this hangout I made for the two of us, just us two, and nobody else.”

“Nobody else?”

“Nobody.”

Hearing this, the princess got a little bit shy.. *He wanted to be alone with me?*

“Now whenever we are doing all that paperwork, we can do it together in the same area, where it’s quiet, and where nobody can find us.”

“Oh Yugo… I really don’t deserve you. You’re an amazing guy and you’re just too good for me!”

“Well I can say the same for you to Amalia.”

“You’re such a dork! A very caring dork..”

The two settled down in the blue and black swing, with Yugo laying in Amalia’s lap as she rubbed his head.

“I love you Amalia.”

“I love you to Yugo.”

((this is my first time writing a kinda fanfic, but yeah i hoped you enjoyed it!))

I JUST NOTICED I PUT PRINCESS THAN QUEEN IM SORRY IGNORE THAT 😭

[pervertedreams]

Eddie who finds the reader reading soo hot and eats her out while reading

it’s crazy cause i have an idea just like this in my drafts so i mind as well explore on it. and ty for the ask i love when y’all send them in, gives me something to write abt !! ♡

mdi

it toasty and warm in your beloved bedroom, the temperature is just right for the biting winter breeze that abuses the outside, you’re sat cozy on your heavily decorated bed, fluffy pillows giving you cushion against the hard wall. the few candles you lit flicker and bounce around the room, giving it the perfect yellow sim setting.

you rented out a book a few weeks ago, coming to the brutal realization that you’ll have to return it soon and what better time to read it than now. it’s too cold to do anything right now anyways. so you finally got around to reading the book you had been putting off for days, fully engulfed in the pages, the chapters, characters, the storyline. half way through reading it you’re surprised it took you this long to get it it, it’s was really good.

you glasses sit at the bridge of you nose as your eyes scan each line, a vague visual going along with it in your head. you were so submerged in your reading that you didn’t realize eddie standing at the doorway. the only reason why you noticed him was to push your glasses up your nose, and his tall shadow nearly made you jump out of your skin. your book nearly falling out of your grip, free hand clutched at your beating chest.

“whatcha up too four eyes.” normally you’d give a potty chuckle to his corny remark, but you’re still focusing on regulating your breath and slowing down your heart beat. “jesus eddie, how long have you been standing there.” it’s wasn’t a necessarily a question to be answered, not that he could properly answer it cause he’d been standing there for quite some time, ogling at you.

he had just finished tidying up the kitchen after an atrocious attempt at making dinner, which despite the gruesome mess it came out quite delish. his plan was to shower and drift to sleep with you in your comfy bedroom, but those plans quickly shifted when he caught you in somewhat of a vulnerable moment. you had been reading the book you had been talking about all day, all week to be honest. and you finally got around to it. hair pushed back behind your shoulder, bringing his focus to your collarbones. reading glasses sitting comfortably on your nose as your eyes flicker back and forth between the lines on the pages. he wondered his eyes to the cover of the book and realized… it was an erotic story. and his dick nearly jumps when he scans down a little further and sees that your legs are completely bare, subtly squeezing together with excitement. your feet are bare too, daintily painted toes rubbing against each other out of habit. it was hot, you were hot. and a little voice in his head is telling him how embarrassing it is to get hard over the sight of you reading, but at the same time he’s turned on by anything you do. he is your boyfriend after all.

you wedge your finger on the last page you were reading, shutting the book around your finger and holding it to your chest when eddie gets closer. he’s climbing on the bed, the weight he’s putting on his knee creating a small dip in the mattress and creek of the box spring.

“whatcha reading?” he doesn’t even try fighting off the smug grin on his face, and you snatch your book closer when he tries thumbing at it.

“it’s nothing, just the book i been telling you about.” you mumble, a silence falls between the two of you and your glare at each other, he’s mindlessly tracing circles into your inner thigh. you both know you’re lying, but he decides to leave it alone to an extent.

“the book you told me about hm?” his tone is mocking but slightly slurred, now placing a kiss where he was just rubbing. your legs twitch open wider from his touch and he can literally smell you. and again— he doesn’t fight the smile that grows across his face. he watches as you swallow, and something about you looking down at him makes his hips buck into the bed.

your breath is shaky when you speak, “you never told me how long you were watching.” you tried flipping the script on him, and thankfully it works.

the vibration of his chuckle against your flesh makes you clench. he kisses up your thighs more, a few nips and bites here and there. “for a couple of minutes if i’m honest.” he repositions himself between your legs, getting another desperate hump into the mattress as he readjusts. “you looks sexy under this light, reading your little book.”

he places his chin aright above your abdomen, pulling his neck back to place a kiss directly over your panty-clad clit. your hips instinctively buck, a small whine exacting your lips. he’s looking up at your with those doe eyes like he always does, “can you read some for me, baby?” his hands smoothing up and down the sides of your hips, waiting for an answer. his plead seems to get taken into consideration when you’re slowly opening the book. the cold bite of his rings against your skin make you wince when he happily grips your hips, hooking his fingers along the sides of your panties so he can yanks them down.

he wasted no time in latching onto your clit the moment you start reading. stumbling and skipping over words, certain words dying on your tongue and morphing into a whine or a moan, and because eddie is naturally a menace he’s telling you to, “c’mon baby, read it again for me. i couldn’t understand you.” faux look of worry and concern plastered on his shit-eating face.

sorry i don’t too tired to write detailed smut. but i love a good build up so i hope you enjoyed ! and asks are ALWAYS opened pls don’t be afraid to send in a hc or concept or whatever you want me to elaborate on.

[sphireath-wisp]

You loved the snow.

The way your boots satisfyingly crunch down on the layer of snow with every step, cushioning your every step as if you were walking on clouds. The crisp air that chills your body and enters your lungs - so cold that you could almost feel the air traveling down your windpipe. The detailed snowflakes that you wish you could cradle in your hands without them melting into water.

In your brain as a child, the serene idea of playing in the snow was inviting enough for you to sneak out right on New Year's Eve. If that wasn't more than enough reason for you then, the lights strung up on the Christmas tree and nearby houses at the central plaza had you convinced.

Though, as much as you loved the white capping the ground, the cold was unbearable after being out for so long. In a rush, you had forgotten to put on an extra layer.

The warm, yellow light that escaped the window of a nearby house drew you closer. Your frostbitten lips part in a daze, observing the cozy interior of a house. A comfortable maroon-colored couch that you would love to sleep on, a fireplace that probably made those familiar crackling sounds you faintly remember, and a small boy lying on his stomach on top of a circular rug.

He kicked his feet back and forth on the rug, hands fidgeting with his toy cars. His mouth opened, but you couldn't hear what he was saying - he was probably mimicking sound effects to entertain himself and add a little more effect to the silly race between his inanimate cars. He had dark green hair that complimented his teal eyes - teal eyes that were staring right at you as of now.

At that moment, you flinched, only just realizing that he had noticed your presence. The boy stood up on his own two feet and approached the window cautiously, tilting his head to the side with a puzzled expression.

You imitate him for a moment before pressing your chubby face against the window, breath misting and blurring your view of the kid inside.

You push your palm against the window and he does the same, star-struck eyes and curious glances as the winter snow outside decorates your hair.

If he had known any better, he would have called for his parents to shoo away the strange kid outside of their home. Though, could you really blame him? At this young age, all he thought to do was stare and observe.

It was too late for any kid to be outside right now and he doesn't recognize you from the neighbourhood. The more he stared, the more he struggled to fathom who... or what you were. With the myths planted into his head by his older brother's cheeky friends to 'scare' or amuse him - the myths his brother always disproved and rolled his eyes at, his mind could only assume you were something ethereal.

"Are you a snow angel?" You stared for a moment to process the words he mouthed out - the seconds the little boy assumed you used to contemplate whether to tell him who you truly were or not.

You giggle, lying through your little teeth just because you began to take a liking to the idea. You nod, watching the shimmer in his eyes brighten, in awe of you.

Though his voice was a little muffled, you could sort of understand what he was saying.

"What's your name?" You began.

"Rin. Do snow angels have names?"

"Mmhm, I'm (Name). (Name) the snow angel."

Rin noticed you shivering in the cold, eyebrows furrowing and creating a crease near the bridge of his nose. "Isn't it cold out there, (Name)? Do you wanna come inside?"

You shook your head - your parents were already going to kill you for sneaking out at this time, and entering a stranger's house would add fuel to the fire. "I'm not allowed to let other humans see me... I didn't expect you to notice me." You blurt out an excuse to satisfy his vivid imagination.

"Don't worry, I can keep a secret," Rin responds enthusiastically, dead-set on helping you. "I can call Nii-chan, he'll know what to do!"

"It's okay, I promise." You couldn't tell if you were blushing because of the cold or him. Giving him a reassuring smile, you draw a heart on the window after your breath fogs it up. He purses his lips, not fully convinced.

He hastily grabs his jacket and gloves whilst ignoring your banging on the window, desperately repeating that you'll be okay. You were helpless as he grabbed a spare jacket for you. Some part of you must have really craved the warmth you needed from that extra layer or maybe you just wanted to stay because of Rin.

Just at that moment, you notice an older boy enter - matching sweaters with Rin. You immediately scurried away, leaving behind only the footprints of your boots that you prayed the snow would cover up.

"Rin, what are you doing?" Sae - Rin's older brother - questions him and crosses his arms at the sight of the toy cars he left on the carpet. "And didn't I tell you to clean up after yourself?"

"Nii-chan! I saw a snow angel!" Rin announces while grabbing Sae by the wrist to pull him to the window, not noticing the slight stumble in Sae's step when he was suddenly tugged (otherwise, Rin would have immediately apologized). "They were super nice and pretty, and...

they're gone..." Rin's smile drops and he hears a sigh from Sae.

"Have my friends been drilling weird ideas into your head again?"

#Taglist: @dewwberry

[penvisions]

from grief to grace {javi g x reader drabble}

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Determined to work through your heartbreak, you end up spacing out until your boss comes to check on you.

Warnings: hurt and comfort, break up, heartbreak, asshole boyfriend, negative language, degrading language, disrespect, um idk if there's anything else?

A/N: written for @iamasaddie as part of their writing challenge 2.0! decided to go literal with the prompt of 'javi's blue jacket' and pick javi g since i've never written for him before. the genre i was given was hurt/comfort and the prompt was 'will you tell me about it?' i had so much fun with this even if i took an angstier route (apparently that's my thing lol)

drabble masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

You were trying to concentrate on threading the needle, but your hands were trembling, and tears were brimming. Sighing, you set the needle’s pointed end back into the pin cushion atop the desk, beside the jacket you had been attempting to fix.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and you quickly picked up the notebook you had scribbled Javi’s measurements on, double checking them against the thin white lines you had drawn onto the fabric as you heard him enter the room.

“Okay, my apologies, that meeting ran a little longer. It was unexpected.” He clapped his hands together, seemingly done with that part of the day and more than willing to move onto the nest.

“Th-that’s okay, senior.” You tried to sound normal, but your heart sank when you realized it hadn’t been convincing enough.

“Is everything okay, you do not seem like yourself.” Javi’s cheerful tone had dampened, worry creeping into him as you could feel his eyes look you over completely as you sat frozen at your desk. No doubt taking in the way the jacket that was supposed to be ready for him to try on was sitting in front of you in pieces.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been too slow on this jacket, senior, please accept my apologies.”

“I am not worried about the jacket, I am worried about you. You’re crying, querida.” He intoned softly.

Quickly raising a hand to wipe at your cheeks, you were startled to discover that you were crying. The tears having fallen to the fabric you were supposed to be working on. Damp spots decorating the bright fabric. It was a mustard yellow, the color deeper where you tears had landed. You frantically tried to rub the wet spots off, patting at them with a tissue from the box near the edge of your desk.

“Oh shoot! No, no, no, I will fix it, I swear.”

“No need,” Javi strode further into the room, kneeling beside you to take your hands in his. They looked so small in his, the freckled tan of his feeling warm. “I worry for you, tell me what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, aware of a few errant tears flying away at the motion. You wanted to keep it inside, to not ruin the day or be the cry baby that vented to their sweet, understanding employer.

“I’m okay, I swear.” You wouldn’t look directly at him, knowing his wide brown eyes that glittered in the sunlight would make you spill the news far too quickly if you were to gaze into them. You always had a soft spot for him, for the way he was endlessly kind and wore his heart on his sleeve. Something that had been a thing to tease you over, from both your friends and your – well now ex – boyfriend.

“Will you tell me about it, querida, please? I will do my best to make it better, whatever it is.” He beseeched in that deep baritone he had, his hands squeezing yours reassuringly.

“My-my boyfriend, h-he broke up with me. He said he was embarrassed to tell his friends I was a seamstress.” You sputtered, the ache in your heart making the words flow from you to your boss. He was always so kind, so thoughtful. You hadn’t wanted to tamp down on his sunny and excitable demeanor today of all days. He was preparing to host a viewing festival, indie film makers from all over the world would be there and he had requested you to work overtime if you wanted to. You had taken him up on it, even in the wake of the breakup. You needed to save as much as you could to cover the down payment for a new place, your ex not too prideful to kick you out of the one in your name that he had moved into. “He ki-kicked me out of our apartment, I have nowhere to go.”

You felt a tug on your arms and you leaned into it, your bottom thudding on a plush pillow Javi had pulled from the nearby couch. He took you into his arms carefully, on the watch for any signs that this was not the way to go about this. But you went willingly, your arms going around his neck and your cheek going to his chest. You breathed in deeply, one of his hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly.

“I’m so sorry, mi amor. Why don’t you let me cook for you or take you out to a lovely dinner, mi amor. To help get your mind off of things. You can stay here in the meantime, there are countless rooms here for you to have.” His voice vibrated through you, comforting in how it caressing your ears at the same time. You could only nod, not trusting your voice to be more than a warble of nonsensible words. You tightened your on hold on him, feeling safe for the first time all week.

-

The next morning you woke naturally, the sunlight filtering in through the sheer curtains over the windows. You had opted to stay in, too nervous to be out in public lest you run into your ex. Javi had understood completely, whisking you toward the kitchen after he had dried you tears. Glasses of wine were shared over the course of making dinner and during. Two led to three led to four and you found yourself slow dancing with the graceful man in the kitchen once you had finished. The soft sounds of the distant ocean paired with the oldies flowing low from the radio too tempting. He whispered how he would never treat you in such a bad way, how he would always take care of you, make sure you were happy and healthy.

When he offered you a room again, you had been emboldened by the wine and casual touches. It urged you to lean up close to him, hands still around his neck from dancing to ask if his room was available. He had answered you with a deep kiss, his hands wide on your back as he licked into your mouth. He had assured you he was a man of honor before offering you a pair of pajamas and settled into his plush bed beside you. He hadn’t done anything more than tangle his fingers with your underneath the covers before you both drifted off to sleep.

Smiling to yourself, you stretched out. A moan bubbling up as you felt a few kinks work themselves out in your back. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, the sound so dirty in the warm bedroom. But when you looked over to the other side, you were the only one in the bed. Your eyes flashed to the pop of neon color on the bedside table.  

There was a post it note atop the alarm clock, blocking the display of numbers from view. Javi’s script penned in ink, a message for you.

‘Mi amor, I had to leave early but did not want to wake you.

Please join me for the festival if you’re feeling up to it. Just ask my assistant for a VIP pass.

I will bring home something for dinner. I hope you got some rest last night, please take it easy today.

Yours, Javi’

You liked the sound of that. Home.

[tinkerbelle05]

Colors of the rainbow

Character: Spiderman Noir x Masc!Black!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: (Requested) Thanks 🖤 Spiderman noir x male reader romance? :D You show Peter the colors of the pride flag and he comes in love with all of the colors

Warnings: uses the word queer and mentions queer ppl, if you don't like then scroll away.

“What is that?” Peter asked, the confusion was evident in his voice and widen eyes. He was pointing to your pride flag that was hanging on the wall.

You were confused at first but then remembered, his universe was black and white, with shades of gray. He knew the names of colors but just not what they were. One time he mistook green for red and red for purple.

You unhooked the flag from your wall and held up to him, “This is the pride flag, also known as the rainbow flag, and the colors that represents those who are queer.”

He stares the flag intently and took it from your grasp. “Wow, look at all the colors. It looks like a rubric cube.”

You stifle a laugh at his comment but nod your head, “Yea I guess you are right.”

“The flag. Does it represent anything?”

“Yea it does. Red represents life, Orange is healing, Yellow is sunlight, Green is nature, Indigo is serenity, and violet is the spirit of queer people,” you explain to him and points to each color as you go down.

He listens to you intently and commits every word to memory. “The flag is beautiful and the meanings are even more so. Do you have any other flags with these amazing colors?”

His curiosity was cute and you couldn't wait to show him the different flags. You spent most of the day researching and looking up all the other pride flags for Peter to gawk at.

The harder Peter smiles, the deeper his two dimples get, and he starts talking fast. You don't think he even notices it and you can barely make out what he's saying.

"Wow, now this is a flag that you would normally see in my universe," Peter says and shows you the phone. It's a black and white striped flag.

After a while, it was safe to say that Peter had become in a way obsessed with the flags. He’s unlabeled for all intents and purposes but he has a whole closet of queer merch.

“Uh Pete, what’s all this?” you asked while you were cleaning your apartment. You found everything, was this all of the packages that kept coming to your apartment?!

There were multiple flags of varying sizes. There were pride stickers and slogans. Even clothes; shirts, sweaters, pants, socks, etc.

He comes up behind you, “Oh my pride collection,” he answers easily and walks away.

He’s pri-what?

You follow him into the kitchen and watch as he grabs an apple, “But why so many?”

“Why not? It’s pretty and colorful. And the designs are amazing!” he explains to you and takes a bite of the apple. “And supporting small businesses is always a good thing too.”

With his reasonings, you couldn't argue with it. You walk over to the couch and collapse into the soft cushions, "Okay Pete, just make sure it doesn't get too cramped, okay?"

He gives you a distracted yea and you watch him marvel at the pride decorations.

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[midnightsun-if]

Can you give us a fluff, or as fluff as they can be, story with Elizabeth and Rainier? I’m super curious about their dynamic as they seem perfectly matched but complete opposites.

“Why did you do it?”

The soft question, and the even softer voice that asks it, is barely heard over the sharp crackling of the hearth— disjointed rays of orange, red, and yellow flickering across the Victorian decor, bringing new life into the aged room.

Ruby red meets icy blue from across the room; where the former sat sharpening a dagger and the latter lounged in front of the blazing fire with a book in hand.

“Why did I do what?” Elizabeth retorts, dropping her gaze back to shining metal. This game of word chess had been replayed so many times now that she could already tell where her husband was leading up to. “Marry you? Because I truly don’t have the faintest inclination as to why—”

“Lilibet,” Rainier interrupts, a deep chuckle rumbling from within his chest. A sound that only ever came when around his wife, in the privacy of their own home, away from prying eyes, and, like a moth to the seductive flame, he stands to move closer to her. “You know what I’m asking. Why did you do it? Why did you keep me alive?”

Peering up through thick lashes, Elizabeth lets her dagger fall to the cushioned pad below— a brief flicker of annoyance festering within her chest at her task being interrupted before she extinguished it— and she stands to match her husband’s gaze straight on.

“I do numerous things without having a course of action after the fact, Rainier. Keeping you alive was a mere whim that I decided to follow.”

Rainier shakes his head. “I don’t believe that for a second, Elizabeth. You’re the most ambitiously cunning woman I have ever met. You don’t do anything without having a backup plan to your backup plan. So—” He rounds the table, stepping closer to his wife. “— I ask again… Why did you keep me alive?”

There’s a moment of silence— wherein the two simply observe the other; after centuries of being together, they knew how to read one another like a children’s book. Elizabeth knew what her husband wished to hear, that she had looked into his eyes and simply realized she could not bear to be without him, that she had felt a pull towards him long before he became immortal, but such fanciful notions were nothing more than arbitrary lies.

“Because you didn’t weep like a sniveling coward, Rainier,” she replies, settling back down in her seat, aware the game was coming to an end. For now. “I found that intriguing. What more do you wish for me to say?”

Looking down at her, Rainier’s expression doesn’t falter from the serene stoicism she had taught him so long ago, but she could easily detect the flicker of disappointment that flashed through the blue depths of his gaze. “The truth, for starters,” he chuckles, leaning down to place a chaste kiss to her cheek. “Something that’ll I get out of you one of these days.”

Watching her husband amble back to his seat, and whatever book had caught his attention, Elizabeth almost feels regret flooding her chest, a heavy sort of weight that she didn’t quite like to bear…

You already have, you foolish man, she thinks, watching as Rainier relaxes once more. It’s just not something you wish to accept.

It’d only be a matter of time before the question came again and the game would start once more— Rainier, never realizing that he had already won the first time he had played.

[plussizefantasia]

Sweet Things

Flufftober Day 1: Bakery AU

Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Word Count: ~0.8k

A/N: This is my first time doing a writing challenge like this and I've already written the first couple of days worth of content. I'm really excited to see how this goes. As always, if you liked this please reblog! It goes a long way and keeps my posts from dying.

divider credit: @royallaesthetics

Waking up before the sun was probably your least favorite part of your day. It was, however, a requirement to own your own bakery. Recently though, your favorite part of your day was him. You didn’t know much about him, just that he was very handsome and he always came into the bakery at the same time, ordered the same thing and his name was Bucky. 

Bucky had started coming into the sweet shop about two months ago. He walked through the front doors of your business in a nice neutral teeshirt with a blazer over it, a crisp pair of slacks, and some leather shoes that pulled the outfit all together. He took a cursory glance at the homey decorations that covered your walls, the plants that sat in the corners, and the mismatched cushions that laid on every chair, and ordered a black coffee and a lemon poppyseed muffin. He didn’t say anything to you besides his order and a quiet thank you as he left. He came back the next day at the same time and did it all over again. 

For the next few months, this routine persisted with him gradually being more open to small talk on the days when you needed to brew another pot of the dark roast he seemed to love. These moments were your favorite and you’d be lying if you didn’t intentionally forget to start the pot a few times in order to get those extra few minutes with the very handsome stranger. 

Today was different though. He showed up at the same time, like he always did but this time he asked you a question instead of ordering.

“What’s your favorite thing here?” He leaned against the counter next to your display case that held an assortment of baked goods, some staples and some that shifted with the seasons. Right now it was fall and the smell of cinnamon, apple, and pumpkin was always thick in the air of the shop. You went home smelling like a fall candle most days. 

“Why, are you looking to branch out from the usual?” He let out a huff of laughter at this and his eyes crinkled in the corners. You’ve never seen him laugh before. You really like it. 

“No, just curious.” He shrugged and you tilted your head to the side to try and figure out what he was doing. As far as you could tell, Bucky was a creature of habit and this was most certainly not a part of the habit. 

“Well, right now my favorite is the pumpkin cream cheese cinnamon rolls.” You pointed towards the large sweet roll with an orange-tinted glaze on the top. “But I’ll never say no to a chocolate chip muffin.” 

“You seem to have a sweet tooth.” He replied looking at the two items you had listed.

“I think that I’d have to be crazy to own a place like this and not like sweet things.”

“That’s funny,” he mumbled “I like sweet things too.” His eyes swung up to meet yours and you watched the corners of his mouth pull up into a smirk. His tongue darted out past the crease of his lips and his eyes drifted further down your face. The air in the room got heavier and you briefly wondered if this was one of those romance novel moments where the guy professes his love for the girl and they run away together. The thought fled as quickly as it arrived when you heard his next words.

“I’ll take my usual, plus one chocolate chip muffin.” He let his eyes back up to meet yours and you began to nod. Turning away from him and willing the heat away from your cheeks. You rushed to gather his order and in a few moments reached over the counter to hand him his coffee cup and a yellow bag with your logo on it, containing two muffins, one lemon poppyseed, and one chocolate chip. 

He handed you the money and you went to say something else to him when the bell above your front door chimed.

“I’ll be right there!” You called out and turned back to Bucky. “Enjoy, Bucky”

“I will, Sweets.” His eyes crinkled once again and you felt the heat returning to your face. 

You helped the customer who had just walked in and the three who had followed in quick succession. The flow lulled for a moment and you turned to clean the counter when you saw a chocolate chip muffin sitting on top of the display case. Laying underneath it was a napkin holding a set of numbers and a scribbled message.

Enjoy the muffin, Sweets

I’ll see you tomorrow, Bucky

Now your eyes were the ones crinkling at the corners as one of the largest smiles you’ve ever smiled stretched across your face. He said he liked sweet things.

[xwingsandohs]

did anyone say good omens fanfic x cupid!reader ?!?!?

good evening tumblr. i have many thoughts for the ineffable fandom. can’t get out of my head a cupid!reader that crowley hangs out with now that azi is gone?!?? broken heart crowley?!?! crowley x reader smut ?!? gender neutral reader?!?!? gender bending crowley?!?!? sex shop running cupid ?!?!?!??! 🫣🤔🤭🪽

I wrote a drabble. Please send thoughts. May write a fic 🫣 XOXO, xwingsandohs.

Angels and demons have always been assigned their roles on earth to protect peace and create chaos, but it’s in the 15th century (or so) that the Almighty notices that humans have evolved themselves beyond simple procreation. And so God creates the Cupids, not necessarily a legion of angels and definitely not demonic, but a collection of holy beings powered by Earthly love to bring happiness and prosperity to humanity in new ways.

Where Aziraphale was defined by white hair and golden clothes, Crowley recognised by fiery red locks and sleek suits; this particular Cupid is defined by a rainbow of colours, patterns and flowers for every occasion.

It’s been three months since Aziraphale left for Heaven’s gates, or escalators to be more accurate, and your attempts to foster and create love in London has suffered thanks to a certain lonely demon moping around. Crowley can’t admit he just needs the company.

“Coffee?” You ask, Crowley hums positively. “What would you like?”

“Something strong.” He’s sitting on a lovely green couch in the back room of your shop, sprawled in all his comfort. It’s decorated with a variety of silly cushions, one particular eye-catching one being bright blue with orange tassels.

The room is littered with beige boxes of spare stock and new deliveries, but you still keep it looking bright with a mis-matched collection of hanging prints and printed wallpaper. You keep it on theme with what you stock.

“I know that, silly.” You shake your head and smile as always, you both do this routine most mornings. The coffee bean grinder grunts loudly and you pick out two big mugs from the cupboard. “What shall I try draw in your coffee with the milk? You know I’ve been practising.”

You have been practising. Despite coffee not being the main draw of your high street shop, you have a vision of giving out free drinks to customers if you can master the art of the latte. You’re getting better, actually.

“A leaf.” Your friend responds, standing up and heading towards you.

“You say that every time!”

Crowley picks up the yellow striped mug you’d taken out for his drink.

“I like the leaf.”

He’s nonchalant. He puts the mug back and looks around for the one he wants.

“But it’s easy and I’d like a challenge. Something silly.”

You grin up at him with a little humour, and he looks back to you with a raised brow.

He can’t find the mug.

You look up and find the mug immediately. It’s completely plain and black, with a slightly lighter shade of grey on the inside. He bought it and gave it to you especially for his drinks. You always fight back.

“Fine.” Crowley says with exasperation. “How about….” He looks around for inspiration in your decor, finding little that he wishes to ask for. “A tree?”

“Oh, I know!” You almost cut him off, exclaiming. He doesn’t know why you bother asking, again, this is your routine. His eyes roll and you can sense it without even seeing. “I’ve just remembered something I saw online the other day and I’d like to try it out.”

“Sure.” He rubs across his face with his hands then spins on the spot to head back to a seat on the couch. The milk steamer screeches and he considers it his cue.

“Could you do me a quick favour before I unlock the doors?” He stops, seconds away from reclaiming comfort on the velvet. He’s not your assistant, but you tend to always ask for these little things.

“I know you’re not my assistant, but there’s a pile of online orders printed out that I need to put together. Could you grab that pile from upstairs for me? It’s next to the-“

“The computer.” He finishes. Routinely.

You finish the coffee.

By the time he’s brought down the pile of paper and placed it where you like it behind the till incase of a quiet moment, you’re skipping over to unlock the door and flip the sign to ‘Open!’ Before it hits 9:01.

Then you rush back to grab the two mugs.

Crowley looks around at the shelves and pegs that hold the stock and shakes his head at everything he sees, humans and their rubbish. He does however appreciate the collection of green plants that have found a place amongst the shelves since he’d been spending lots of time here. They perhaps even look happier than his own, or maybe the colourful shelves really bring out their green.

“I wonder what lovely people will walk through our doors today?” You say with a smile, taking your first sip of coffee and smearing the pattern. Your hand holds out the other cup to Crowley.

He shrugs, takes the coffee from your hand and looks down at the pattern. “It’s a…”

“-A seahorse!” He wouldn’t have guessed it really, but when you point it out he notices. It’s definitely an animal of some sort.

“I like it.” He doesn’t really care for it, but you seem to like the labour, he understands that care. “Although it’s a little…”

He’s not going to say the word.

You’re still grinning, you know the word.

“A little…?” You ask.

“You know, it’s…” He doesn’t say.

“Phallic?” You say it. He doesn’t look away from the coffee.

“Phallic.” He confirms with an unsurprising demeanour .

“I know!” You giggle, he shakes his head.

“You really do take this all very seriously, don’t you?” Crowley chuffs as he leans back against the counter and takes his first sip.

“You could say it’s all about passion in this business.”

Well…. What else would a Cupid sell? The bell above the door rings.

“Good morning.” You call to the first two customers that come through the door. They respond politely back. “Welcome to Sugar ‘n’ Spice, let us know if we can help with anything.”

“Actually, we were looking for some bondage gear?” The lady says as her partner shrinks slightly behind her.

“Of course! Let me introduce you to our selection and then I’ll leave you to shop on your own.”