#i hope you have the most wonderful day!!!

[witchywithwhiskey]

Hey, hehe. Flipped the coin to decide a character and it’s Ari, with bite me, please?🥺🥺

bite me, baby

pairing: ceo!ari levinson x female reader

summary: when your nightmare of a boss, the ceo of the company, insults your valentine's day plans, you're so fed up that you quit. and he has a reaction that you did not anticipate even a little bit.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming, pool sex, biting/marking, edging via sensual massage (ari puts sunscreen on reader—never forget your sunscreen, friends!!), prone bone, some brattiness, light bd/sm, light power play dynamics, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (baby), aftercare, references to marathon sex, reader has a cat (idk if this needs to be a warning but just fyi!), enemies to lovers with a happy ending

word count: 6.0k

a/n: i love a coin flip because i hate making decisions 🤭 i'm so glad it landed on ari because he, and the "bite me" prompt, inspired this fun and dirty idea that i'm so so so happy with!! (i also think i managed to throw in some of the other stuff you requested because it ended up giving me a lot of inspiration.) thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy!! ♡♡

That was it. You had had enough of Ari Levinson. 

In fact, after months of working for the CEO, you’d had more than enough of the infuriatingly arrogant, wildly inconsiderate, exasperatingly entitled and frustratingly handsome man. 

Wait, no, forget that last one. Ari was the worst man you’d ever met—and you’d met plenty of awful men in your line of work as an executive assistant to high-ranking executives—so he certainly was not also the most attractive man you’d ever met. Absolutely not. 

You’d worked for Ari Levinson for a little less than a year, and even though you were one of the best damn EAs in all of New York City, he’d already driven you to fantasizing about quitting multiple times a day. It wasn’t a good sign that you also liked to imagine kicking him in the shin before storming out in all your righteous glory.

The problem wasn’t that Ari Levinson was a demanding and exacting boss. He was a CEO, after all, and most executives held their employees to incredibly high standards. No, the real problem was that Ari was prone to seemingly impulsive whims, which always made your already difficult job nearly impossible.

More times than you could count, you’d had to reschedule meetings with titans of the industry and heads of state, all because Ari had forgotten to tell you he’d gone to play pickleball. Or you’d had to completely rebook a board meeting because Ari had decided to take a spontaneous trip to Costa Rica or the Seychelles or some other warm and sunny place while winter ravaged the city.

The worst part about those trips in particular was that you were still expected to commute into the office. So while Ari was off enjoying a white sand beach and crystal blue ocean, soaking up the sun that would undoubtedly bring out the blond highlights in his perfectly shaggy brown hair and deepen his glorious golden tan, you would be bundled up in a ridiculous amount of layers and braving the subway in the city. 

When Ari was gone, you would spend most of your day sitting at your desk alone on the top floor the company’s building, twiddling your thumbs outside Ari’s empty office. Inevitably, your mind always strayed to Ari and began to wonder what he was doing at that very moment.

Since the CEO had you working 60-hour weeks, and you spent most of those hours by his side, you could very easily picture him standing on a beach. He’d be wearing a rakish smile on his bearded face, the clear blue of the ocean making the bright sapphire of his eyes pop while the shining sun would highlight the mischievous look that was, more often than not, sparkling in the depth of his gaze. 

You’d never seen Ari shirtless—only ever having seen him in the tailored suits he wore to the office—but you’d caught glimpses of dark hair on his chest on the late nights when he’d undone the top buttons of his shirt. You could just imagine how his broad shoulders would frame his barrel chest, dark hair dusting so much of his bare skin that would be on display, with a pair of shorts riding indecently low on his hips.

And if you let your mind wander further down that path, you began to wonder if Ari ever swam naked in the shimmering waters of the tropics. You wondered if he floated on his back, basking in the sun with his entire body bare, looking even more like the golden god you thought he resembled…

With a forceful shake of your head, you made yourself stop thinking about Ari swimming naked, and refocused on the present moment. 

You stood in Ari’s office, your back straight as a knife’s edge while you typed notes furiously into your phone about everything you’d have to reschedule to accommodate the last-minute, week-long trip to Belize he’d informed you he was taking. 

You’d bitten back a sigh, like the polite little EA you prided yourself on being, and tried to get more details from him about his availability while he was away. But instead of answering your extremely relevant questions, Ari had changed the subject and asked about your Valentine’s Day plans.

The words had taken you by so much surprise, you’d had to pause your typing and blink a few times before your mind could process them. It wasn’t until Ari had voiced the question that you even realized the holiday had snuck up on you. 

Not that it mattered, it wasn’t like you were seeing anyone, so you had no romantic partner to spend it with. As such, you’d given Ari a bland answer about catching up on the new season of The Traitors with a bottle of rosé and Freddie.

You didn’t expect Ari to remember that Freddie was your cat, and not a partner—though Freddie was, admittedly, your closest companion since you lived alone in a very nice one-bedroom apartment and had little time for other friends. 

You’d hoped Ari would’ve forgotten about Freddie and assumed you were just having a lowkey Valentine’s Day, thereby getting the hint to drop the subject. You’d wanted to refocus him on answering the questions you’d asked about his trip. 

But you’d had no such luck and, for the second time in five minutes, Ari had surprised you—and not in a good way. 

The CEO had scoffed at your Valentine’s Day plans, rolling his gorgeous blue eyes in a way that made you grind your molars in an effort not to snarl at him. He’d said you could find better company for the evening than a cheap bottle of wine, some trashy television and a flea-ridden furball. 

That last comment had been the final straw. The one that broke the proverbial camel’s back. 

You’d felt something inside you snap, and you realized you’d had enough of Ari Levinson. 

It was bad enough that Ari was the worst, most difficult and flighty boss you’d ever had, but you drew the line at anyone insulting Freddie. He was your precious little man, the one who greeted you every night with sweet chirps and warm affection when you got home to your otherwise empty apartment. 

You loved him more than anything else in the world, and had even used a good chunk of the generous salary you made working for Ari to splurge on a place with lots of natural light so Freddie could bask in the sun to his heart’s content. So you would absolutely not stand by and listen to Ari insult Freddie. 

“You know what, bite me, Levinson,” you hissed at the infuriatingly arrogant CEO, using a voice so filled with fury, you barely recognized it as your own. “I quit.”

You took a second to savor the slightly stunned look on Ari’s face—his normally sparkling blue eyes dulled with confusion and his perfectly plump lips, offset by his dark, well-groomed beard, parted in surprise like you’d slapped him—then you whirled around on your heel. 

You were determined to stalk out of the CEO’s office with your head held high, but Ari had other ideas.

Quick as lightning, Ari’s hand shot out and wrapped around the back of your neck. His grip was surprisingly gentle, even if it was still firm enough to spin you back around and reel you in until your body nearly collided with his broad chest. 

The astonished look on Ari’s face had already been replaced by a devastatingly arrogant grin, his bright blue eyes sparkling like the sun glinting off the ocean, a wicked kind of mischief in their depths. He held you close, so close that you had to tip your head back to look into his eyes.

Your hands had come up to brace against Ari’s chest when he’d tugged you into the cage of his arms, and you could tell, even through the thick wool coat he wore over his suit, that he was sturdy beneath his clothes. 

The only thing stopping you from trying to push him away was the sneaking suspicion that he was strong enough not to allow you to put any space between your bodies if he didn’t want it. If you did try to fight and he didn’t give you an inch, you knew it would turn you on more than his manhandling already had, and you couldn’t deal with that just yet.

So instead of fighting him, you stood there, letting Ari tower over you while your hands rested uselessly against the lapels of his coat, your phone still clutched tightly in your fingers. You tried to keep a glare fixed on your face, showing him all of the ire you felt, and none of the desire that was scorching through your body as you inhaled his warm, spicy scent.

“Bad move, baby,” Ari rumbled, his mouth curving into a wicked smirk that had your betrayer of a heart beating mortifyingly hard in your chest, the warmth between your legs turning into a disloyal dampness. “Now there’s no employee code of conduct stopping me from doing this.”

You didn’t even have a hope of processing Ari’s words before his mouth crashed down on yours.

If you ever thought about it—which you did, an embarrassing amount, in fact, though you’d never in your life admit it to anyone (except maybe Freddie)—you would’ve expected Ari Levinson to be a selfish kisser. You’d expected him to totally lack finesse, to plunge his tongue into your mouth right away and take what he thought he was owed.

But Ari’s kiss wasn’t like that at all.

Sure, there was a barely leashed hunger in the way his mouth worked against yours, like he was holding onto his restraint by the tips of his fingers. But his lips were more coaxing than demanding, his tongue more teasing and playful than plundering as he licked along the seam of your mouth.

Before you knew what was happening, you were falling under the spell of Ari Levinson’s kiss. Your lips were parting of their own accord, and you were letting out a contented little sigh as your body melted into his arms. 

You could taste the smirk on his lips as he readjusted his grip, one of his arms banding around your lower back to hold you securely against his chest while his other hand shifted from the back of your neck to cup your face. He held you exactly where he wanted you while he tempted you into giving yourself completely to him.

Then, Ari deepened the kiss, and you were lost to him. 

He smelled like expensive cologne, rich and spicy, but he tasted like bitter coffee and dark chocolate, and the contrast was driving you wild. You wanted to climb the tall, sturdy CEO like he was a tree, but you settled for curling your fingers around the lapels of his coat and pulling him closer, sucking on the tongue he’d slipped into your mouth and reveling in his groan of pleasure.

You could already feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into your stomach, and you desperately wanted to feel his bulge move lower, shoving between your thighs while Ari spread your legs wide open—preferably with no layers of clothing between your bodies. You wanted him to sink into your wet heat and pound into you until you forgot everything except his name.

But you wouldn’t beg Ari Levinson to fuck you. You refused to stoop to that level. 

Instead, you pressed your body more firmly against his hardness, nipping at his plump lower lip and stirring a low growl in his chest. Then you sucked on his lip hard enough that his arms crushed you to his chest, his hips thrusting instinctively against your soft curves and making you smirk against his mouth.

“Come to Belize with me,” Ari murmured when he’d pulled his lips from yours to press kisses to your cheek and jaw and neck. He kissed you anywhere he could reach without straying too far from your mouth, which he devoured with a hunger that had a pulsing need throbbing between your thighs. “Come with me, baby, and we can continue this for the whole week.”

A scornful laugh, light and frothy as the waves crashing on the shore, bubbled from your lips and you tipped your head back. Ari took the movement as permission to brush even more kisses to the underside of your jaw, a shiver racing down your spine when the softness of his mouth contrasted with the rasp of his beard.

But, though a part of you wanted to get even more lost in Ari Levinson and take him up on his request, you couldn’t forget everything he’d done and said. You certainly wouldn’t forget the slight against Freddie.

“Why on earth would I go anywhere with you?” you asked, your voice so breathy, it almost sounded like you were flirting with the arrogant CEO instead of scoffing at his offer. “I just quit, remember?”

“I remember,” Ari muttered into the fluttering pulse beneath your jaw. He kissed his way back to your mouth and licked inside, making you melt even further in his arms. 

By that point, your legs were so weak, you were certain Ari’s strong arms were the only thing holding you up. But if he’d been trying to persuade you with pure lust into relenting and giving in to his invitation, he must’ve realized quickly it would take more to sweep you off your feet.

“Let me put it this way—come to Belize with me and I’ll tell HR I fired you so you get your full severance package,” he rumbled in your ear, nipping at the lobe and dragging a reluctant gasp from your lips. “Otherwise you get nothing.”

Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your rational mind, you knew you should bristle at Ari’s threat. After all, he was toying with your financial future like it was nothing but a tool in his negotiation arsenal to get what he wanted. 

Except…you had been the one to quit without thinking about what it meant for your ability to pay rent and keep a roof over Freddie’s head. Ari wasn’t threatening to take away your severance, you’d thrown that away all on your own. Instead, he was offering to give it to you in exchange for a week-long vacation to one of the most beautiful places in the world. 

Later, you could chalk up your questionable decision-making to the drugging effect Ari’s mouth had on your body and mind, but in the moment, you were hard-pressed to remember why you shouldn’t go with him to Belize. Especially when your body seemed unwilling to do anything except press further into him, begging him without words for more.

You realized belatedly that you’d already made up your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell the exasperating CEO just yet. So you slid a hand from the lapel of Ari’s jacket into his soft, brown hair, your fingers curling selfishly in the strands while you pulled his mouth back to yours. You shared a slow, decadent kiss that almost made you forget the conversation you’d been having.

“They’ll believe that?” you asked on a gasp, breaking away from Ari’s devastatingly perfect mouth to suck in the air your lungs were begging for. 

You pulled back enough to look up into Ari’s handsome face, finding him smirking knowingly down at you, and you realized he knew you’d already decided to go with him. You were prepared to seethe in fury and snap at him, but something in his expression made you pause—there was a hint of affection in his crystal blue eyes that you’d never seen before, and it rendered you speechless.

“Baby, I sign their paychecks,” Ari said, stroking a finger tenderly down your cheek, his words reminding you of the conversation you were still in the middle of. “They’ll believe what I tell them to believe.”

A derisive scoff burst from your lips as you rolled your eyes at the arrogance of Ari’s statement, but you held your tongue. You’d known the man long enough that there was no point in arguing with him, so you changed the subject to something that mattered more to you anyway.

“I’m still furious with you for what you said about my Valentine’s Day plans—and Freddie,” you said, giving Ari your best, most withering glare.

Unfortunately, you suspected it wasn’t all that scary, at least not to the CEO who still held you in his arms, because Ari just chuckled and ducked down to press a kiss to your lips. His laughter flickered teasingly into your mouth, making the warmth of desire bloom even more hotly in your body.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Ari vowed before kissing you again, though it didn’t last long as his mouth tipped up into a smirk. “You’re going to enjoy Belize, baby.”

The sun that shone on Belize was better than the sun above New York City, you were convinced of it. If anyone tried to tell you that was simply because Belize was closer to the equator and it was February, you wouldn’t hear it. The sun was better in Belize.

It fell across your bare shoulders like the softest and comfiest of blankets, warming you down to the bones that you would’ve sworn had been permanently frozen by the city’s frigid winter. But even with the sun beating down on your body, you never got overheated thanks to the gentle breeze coming in off the water of the near-distant ocean, caressing your skin like a lover. 

For the millionth time since you’d arrived in Belize, you let out a sigh of contentment and reveled in the bright sunshine and the smell of salt on the air. The lapping of the waves was a constant soundtrack, lulling you into a state of near-sleep as you lay out on the deck of the private vacation home your former boss had booked for the week.

And, thanks to the privacy afforded by the high walls on either side of the pool and deck, which overlooked a strip of beach reserved entirely for you and the CEO, you were basking in the sun completely naked. Your body was stretched out on the soft cushion of a sun lounger, laying on your stomach with your arms folded beneath your chin. 

The only thing you wore was a pair pink heart-shaped sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose, casting the world in shades of bubblegum and taffy while you watched the ocean. It felt deliciously wicked to be laying outside wearing nothing, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you reveled in the feeling of the sun warming your skin—all of your skin. 

The sound of the door to the deck opening and closing pulled you from your reverie, though you didn’t turn to see who it was. There was only one person it could be—Ari Levinson. 

“The beast’s been fed,” Ari said, no small amount of fondness in his tone. His heavy footsteps padded in your direction across the wooden deck, coming to a stop somewhere near the foot of your lounger. 

It surprised no one more than you to learn that Ari’s invitation to go to Belize for the week had included Freddie. The CEO had even accompanied you to your apartment, where he’d helped herd Freddie into his carrier before taking both of you to the airport where he kept his private jet. 

Freddie had been wary of the large intruder in your home, and was taking some time to warm up to Ari. In an effort to endear himself to your precious furball, Ari had insisted on being the one to feed him, which you’d only allowed once your former boss admitted he planned on keeping you in his life long after the trip to Belize ended—and was willing to do anything to make that happen. 

It turned out, Freddie was just as much of a traitor as your heart, because he’d warmed up to Ari just as fast as your the betrayer in your chest had, abandoning their initial hatred of the CEO for something much warmer and more affectionate. 

“I gave him some of that wet food he likes,” Ari went on, finally dragging your attention away from the ocean so you could look up at the man who was quickly becoming your second favorite person in the world—after Freddie, of course. 

You sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of Ari, standing on the deck with his hands propped on his hips, his face tipped up toward the sun and his eyes shaded in dark glasses—all while entirely naked. 

There was so much golden, tanned skin on display, you didn’t know where to look—at the dark hair blanketing his barrel chest, at the gentle taper of his waist and the hair trailing down from his navel, or at the thick cock hanging between his even thicker thighs. 

The two of you had barely made it into the vacation home in Belize and gotten Freddie settled before Ari had been pushing inside your entirely too willing pussy, finally finishing what you’d begun in the CEO’s office in New York. Since then, neither of you had been able to keep your hands to yourselves for longer than a few hours, and you’d learned, intimately, how it felt to have Ari’s cock buried in each one of your holes.

You’d also confessed to Ari, early on in the week, that you’d wondered whether he spent his vacations swimming naked in the ocean. In response, he’d pulled you into the ocean wearing not a stitch of clothing between the two of you; ever since, he’d taken to walking around naked all the time, so you’d done the same. 

Considering all the fucking you were doing, it was way more convenient anyway. 

“I think it’s about time you put on more sunscreen, isn’t it, baby?” Ari asked, dragging your focus back to the moment.  

His tone had dropped a little lower in that way that made your belly swoop and dampness begin to gather between your thighs. Your body warmed as arousal settled heavily in your center, your legs falling open just a tiny bit, as if the infuriating CEO had trained you to react instinctively to the barest hint of desire in his tone after just a few days.

Still, though your body might betray what you desperately wanted from Ari, you weren’t going to make it so easy for him. 

You tipped your head up toward him, finding he’d pulled off his sunglasses and dropped them on the lounger beside yours, leaving him able to pin you with a scorchingly heated look. You simply raised a brow at him.

“If you think so, you can go ahead and apply it for me,” you said primly, tossing your head and turning back to look out at the ocean. 

A smirk quirked the corners of your lips as you heard Ari chuckle behind you, and you could easily picture him picking up the bottle of sunscreen from the deck while he stepped closer to you. 

A moment later, you felt the slight shift of movement when Ari threw his leg over your lounger. Then he settled down on the cushion, planting his knees on either side of your hips. You took off your sunglasses and set them on the deck, pretending not to care about what Ari was doing.

But every spot where his bare skin touched yours tingled with awareness, excitement bubbling in your belly and mixing with your desire into the perfect kind of anticipation that had you squeezing your thighs together against the ache building in your core. 

Ari was quiet while he squeezed the sunscreen onto his hands and began massaging it into your shoulders, his strong fingers working methodically at the knots in your muscles—knots he’d created while he’d still been your boss—until they were entirely loose and unraveled. 

Then his hands were moving lower, his fingers brushing along the soft sides of your tits in such a teasing torture that you had to force yourself not to squirm beneath him. You were trying your hardest to keep up the appearance that you were unaffected by Ari’s touch, but the longer he deftly worked your body, the more effort it took to bite back your moans.

However, all hope of hiding your reactions from the arrogant CEO fled when he got to your ass. His big hands rubbed and kneaded the soft flesh in such a way that Ari kept spreading your pussy lips apart, the quiet sounds of your own wetness reaching your ears even over the near-distant hum of the ocean. 

Ari lingered over your ass and hips and thighs, groping your body shamelessly under the guise of working sunscreen into your skin, even as both of you knew exactly what he was doing. He worked you up until you were squirming beneath him, biting back little whimpers of desire, and then he stopped and you nearly growled in frustration.

Picking up the bottle of sunscreen, Ari laughed softly while he squeezed more into his hands, then made quick work of smoothing it down the rest of your legs, making sure you were entirely covered before resuming his previous position. 

His hands groped your ass again and his hard cock bobbed against the backs your thighs, but neither of you moved to take things further for a long moment. You simply enjoyed the feeling of being together, a sense of peace like none you’d ever known washing over you.

“How many times d’you think I’ve made you cum so far this week?” Ari asked, his tone light with an undercurrent of huskiness betraying his desire. 

The question broke whatever spell Ari had put on you and you stretched languidly beneath him, reaching your fingers out toward the ocean and pointing your toes while you tested your muscles. Your body was loose and relaxed, but you were despairingly empty, so you pushed your hips up, brushing your ass teasingly against Ari’s hard length while you hummed in thought.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, grumbling only a little when Ari pushed your hips back down on the lounger. He rebuffed your wordless offer, pinning you down while his knees shifted higher up your body and his calves kept your thighs closed together. “A lot, I guess.”

“And how many more until you forgive me for being the worst boss ever?” he asked, a playful smile in the warmth of his tone. 

You may have called him that—more than once—when he was edging you earlier in the week. But he’d earned the insult, and more, frankly, for how much you’d put up with in your months of working for him. He truly had been the worst boss ever, and you never intended on rescinding your resignation since he deserved it. 

Thankfully, Ari seemed determined to make it up to you, just like he’d promised. Mostly through orgasms, but you weren’t going to complain. Not yet, anyway. (Besides, you’d already gotten him to promise to give you the most glowing letter of recommendation he could write, and help you secure a position with a much less demanding company.)

“At least a hundred,” you murmured in a breathy tone, your hips lifting hungrily into Ari’s palms when he kneaded your ass, his thumbs brushing temptingly close to your dripping slit. 

That time, he took you up the wordless invitation, the tip of his hard cock pressing into your tight hole, which was more than eager to take his thick length. Ari’s cock met with no resistance from your body as he slid inside, burying himself to the hilt with one relentless stroke.

You were plenty wet from the massage he’d given you, and your body had long since grown accustomed to the feel of his fat cock stretching your tight pussy. It had taken some time to work his full length inside you that first night, but your body had come to know him, and you stretched to fit him perfectly, his hardness nestled deep in your cunt with his tip pressed against your cervix. 

A pleasured groan slipped from Ari’s lips as he felt your pussy squeezing around him. He fell forward, covering your body with his broad form until he was pressed flush to your back, pinning you into the soft cushion of the lounger.

The movement shifted his stiff length in your dripping hole, and it felt like he was pushing impossibly deeper, which wrung a shrill desperate, keening sound from the depths of your lungs. 

Ari shushed you softly, his palms skimming from your shoulders down your arms until his fingers tangled with yours. He held your hands in each of his, keeping you grounded in the moment while undeniable euphoria filled your body and mind, blotting out everything except Ari and the pleasure he offered. 

“And how many more until you forgive me for the comment about the beast?” Ari asked, his voice gravelly with his own barely leashed desire. He turned his head slightly, brushing a kiss to the apple of your cheek like he couldn’t help himself, and waited for your answer. 

It took you a moment to gather your thoughts enough to respond, knowing he wasn’t going to move, to fuck you, until you’d answered his question.

“It’s gonna take five hundred more,” you huffed, trying for a pert tone and failing miserably. Your voice was little more than a breathy moan, but that didn’t stop you from curtly adding, “That was my son you insulted.”

“By the end of this trip, he’s going to be our son,” Ari growled in your ear, pulling his hips back and thrusting inside you again, harder and rougher than before. 

You moaned loudly at the delicious drag of his cock in your tight hole, fighting back the warmth that wanted to curl around your heart at the determination in Ari’s tone when he talked about making Freddie his son too.

Thankfully, the way Ari was rocking into you, fucking your prone body while you were pinned beneath him, easily distracted you from the fact that the infuriating CEO was stealing his way deeper into your heart with very little resistance since you just couldn’t seem to muster it. Not when he felt so fucking good and said so many sweet things.

“And if I have to make you cum one thousand times to make you forgive me, I’ll do it,” Ari went on, pounding into you harder, his hips smacking against your ass with every thrust, wringing mindless moans from your lips while he kept spilling filth in your ear. “I’ll fuck your sweet little cunt until she’s so sensitive and swollen, you’ll be begging me to stop—but I won’t. I’ll make you cum on my cock so many times you’ll be forgiving me over and over and over again.”

Ari punctuated each of his words with a ruthless thrust, the clapping of his skin against yours loud in the quiet and otherwise peaceful afternoon. It was all you could do to mutter, “Oh god,” and cling on to Ari’s hands, holding him tightly while you took every inch of his cock and every single one of his rough thrusts. 

“And then, when you’re addicted to my cock and you’ve finally forgiven me—really, truly forgiven me—I’ll put a pretty little ring on this finger,” Ari rumbled, squeezing your left ring finger between two of his own, so you couldn’t possibly misunderstand what he was saying. “And I’m going to make you my wife. How does that sound, baby?” 

A sob of overwhelming bliss wrenched free from your lips, your mouth too busy wailing your pleasure to form words to respond. 

But it didn’t matter that you couldn’t answer Ari’s question with words because you knew from the way he chuckled in your ear that he’d felt the way your pussy had clenched down on him when he’d said he was going to make you his wife. Your body had answered for you, and it had been much more honest than your mouth would’ve been.

Ari kept fucking you, perfectly hard and perfectly fast, and the pleasure swirling through your body was reaching a fever pitch. It was almost too much for you to bear, so you turned your head and buried your face against Ari’s thick bicep. Mindless moans spilled from your lips as your teeth pressed instinctively into the hard, flexing muscle.

“That’s it—bite me, baby,” Ari cooed in your ear while he shoved his other arm under your body, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing the aching bundle of nerves in tight, ruthless circles. “Bite me while you’re cumming all over my fat cock like the good girl I know you are.” 

Ari’s words and his relentless determination to make you cum were your undoing. 

You came with a muffled scream, your teeth sinking so deep into Ari’s bicep, you knew you’d leave a mark behind. That thought only made you cum even harder, your body trembling and shaking with the force of the pleasure crashing over you. 

Ari followed right after you, his hips rutting into you for a few more thrusts before he came with a grunt, his cock twitching as he spilled his seed deep in your pussy. The two of you writhed together, eking out every last shred of pleasure before eventually collapsing on the sun lounger with exhaustion.

Maneuvering the two of you onto your sides, Ari held you in the cradle of his arms, his cock staying wedged deep inside you so you kept him warm as he gradually softened. You dozed off in the comfort of Ari’s hold, feeling his heart beating against your spine and listening to his soft breaths mingling with the gentle lapping of the ocean.  

After a time, Ari roused you from sleep, murmuring in your ear that the two of you should take a quick dip in the pool before deciding what to order for dinner. The sun had fallen low in the sky, ducking behind the house so that the deck was cast in shade, but the air was still pleasantly warm. 

The cool water of the pool helped to wake you up, and there was a pleasurable burn in your muscles as you swam and splashed and fooled around with Ari. 

Before you dragged yourselves from the pool, he fucked you again, using the gentle weightlessness of the water to lift you up and down on his cock while your head lolled against his shoulder and you moaned your pleasure into his neck.

When the two of you finally stumbled back inside, smelling like chlorine and sunshine, Freddie hopped up from the patch of light he’d been laying in at the front of the house. He chirped happily, twisting around your ankles and waiting for a brief pet before he pranced over to Ari. 

Freddie rubbed his furry body against Ari’s calves, staring up at the man like he’d hung the stars and moon in the sky. Your cat’s welcome made the infuriatingly handsome CEO chuckle affectionately while he bent down to scuff the creature under the chin, murmuring soft praises to the beast. 

It was too much for your heart—too sweet and pure and perfect—and you fell in love with Ari Levinson in that exact moment, though it would be many more months before you confessed those feelings to the man himself. 

By the time you did, Ari would have whispered his love into every inch of your body. When the words finally fell from your lips, he would chuckle, having known it before you’d voiced it, because he knew your heart better than anyone else in the world. Even Freddie. 

That first Valentine’s Day with Ari was much better than watching trashy TV with a bottle of rosé. In fact, it was the best you’d ever had. That is, until the next year’s Valentine’s Day, when Ari whisked you and Freddie off to another tropical location, and fulfilled the promise he’d made about putting a ring on your finger.

The Valentine’s Day after that, Ari Levinson made you his wife. And the two of you lived happily ever after.

[pomegranatesarchive]

hand of gold — cs55

pairing: carlos sainz x wolff!reader

summary: nobody knew you and carlos sainz jr were dating, much less getting married. now everyone’s buzzing at the prospect of getting to witness the biggest (and most expensive) wedding in formula one history.

authors note: this was requested by an anon MONTHS ago and i am so sorry this took me so long, AND im so sorry because the request has for some reason disappeared from my inbox, i hope this makes it to you anon!

instagram • ynwolff • dec 23 • monaco ⚑

liked by lewishamiliton, kimi.antonelli and 718,025 others!

ynwolff: happy holidays from the wolff family 🐺🎅

view comments below!

username1: you never let me forget how rich you are

username2: how does it feel to live the life

username3: are toto and susie looking for a 3rd

➥ ynwolff: it’s christmas…have some decorum.

➥ username3: i didn’t think you would see that…i apologize.

➥ username3: but…are they?

username4: i would kill my entire family to experience a wolff family christmas

username5: i can’t believe she’s still soft launching, you can trust us girl

➥ username6: it’s been THREE whole years…we will never see this man’s full face

➥ username7: i bet he’s ugly.

➥ username8: hes either 1. hideous to look at 2. not rich 3. a driver, or 4. a controversial man

➥ username9: what if it’s lewis?

➥ username10: do you see an ounce of melanin on that man’s skin?

➥ username11: this whole thread is why we will never know who she’s dating 😒

kimi.antonelli: thank you for the new kart 💙 i love it!

➥ ynwolff: only the best for a mercedes driver <3

➥ georgerussell63: i don’t recall getting a new anything for these last 2 years? 🤨

➥ ynwolff: remember that you are a grown man with a grown man paycheck!

instagram • pomegranatesgossip • unknown ⚑

liked by 72,626 users!

pomegranategossip: #neverforgiveneverforget the day this picture came out and everyone thought carlos was for sure going to mercedes! just for him to go WILLIAMS, will forever reminisce on what we could’ve had

view comments below!

username12: they knew what they were doing..and they were so evil for it

➥ username13: will forever wonder what they were talking about

➥ username14: and why on earth was old papa sainz there?

username15: i have a theory..but im scared people will think im schizophrenic

➥ username16: as a diagnosed schizophrenic, let’s indulge into this theory together

➥ username15: i’m convinced carlos is dating toto’s daughter

➥ username16: oh baby….

➥ username15: NO IM NOT CRAZY

username17: nightmare blunt rotation

instagram • carlossain55 • jan 13 • joali being ⚑

liked by susie_wolff, ynwolff, and 628,926 others!

carlossainz55: big things coming soon

view comments below!

username18: i’m cumming soon 😩

➥ username19: ON A POST WHERE HES SHOWING OFF HIS GF???

username20: another one that won’t man up and hard launch 😒

➥ username21: what a coincidence that both yn and carlos have been soft launching for the same amount of time 😭

➥ username22: now that you mention it..

➥ username23: huh

username24: why is susie wolff in the likes?

➥ username25: the TWO wolffs are in the likes

➥ username26: yn has been in the likes since forever, susie on the other hand…

username27: i’m look at the hand in the second picture, and as much as i hate to ask, is that a engagement ring?

➥ username28: please please PLEASE DONT START

➥ username29: i can’t handle that right now

➥ username30: climate change, the cheetos in office, the worlds falling apart, and CARLOS IS ENGAGED TO SOMEONE WHOS NOT ME??? I WILL KILL MYSELF

➥ username31: this was truly the last thing i needed this year

➥ username32: if carlos got a engaged, why would he be wearing an engagement ring? isnt it normal the woman?

➥ username33: unless carlos was proposed TO

username34: please don’t do this to me carlos

twitter

instagram • ynwolff • jan 15

liked by carlossainz55, lewishamilton, and 619,026 others!

yourusername: fixed on your hand of gold

view comments below!

username35: we really went from 0 to 100 real quick 😨

username36: im frozen. you just altered the timeline

username37: THE TWITTER CRAZIES WERE RIGHT?

➥ username38: more importantly THE SCHIZOPHRENIC GIRL WAS RIGHT?

susie_wolff: tell him to watch his hands

➥ carlossainz55: yes ma’am i will watch my hands forever and always

➥ lando: kiss ass 🤣

➥ carlossainz55: you wish you could kiss my ass

➥ ynwolff: oh 😆

➥ carlossainz55: i didn’t mean it baby, i only want you to kiss my ass

➥ susie_woff: …

➥ username39: i like this new change

username40: i actually cannot handle this news right now

username41: THATS WHY PAPA SAINZ AND BABY SAINZ WERE TALKING TOO SUSIE AND TOTO

username42: i can just imagine carlos asking toto permission to propose to yn 😭

username43: wait so who proposed to who?

➥username44: i can’t imagine yn wolff getting on her knees for any man

➥ username45: it wouldn’t make sense for carlos to have a an engagement ring unless yn proposed to him

➥ username46: keep in mind, yn has an engagement ring too

➥ username47: maybe rich people do stuff differently

susie_wolff: i would like to make it clear that my daughter did not get on her knees for any man. she was proposed too, and THEN did she get an engagement ring for her soon to be husband —toto wolff

➥ username48: toto said put some respect on his daughters name

➥ username49: this makes me feel much better

➥ username50: this wedding better be HUGE

➥ username51: if i can’t have a big wedding, then i least i can live through someone who will

carlossainz55: i love you 💙

➥ alex_albon: simp

➥ username51: so did everyone in the paddock know about this relationship?

➥ lando: yes

➥ username52: just dig the knife deeper

➥ username53: i didn’t even feel this level of betrayal when my boyfriend cheated on me

twitter

instagram • carlossain55 • feb 14 • monaco ⚑

liked by ynwolff, charles_leclerc, and 916,016 others!

carlossainz55: wolff-sainz wedding, september ‘25

view comments below!

username54: so what i’m understanding is that your taking the wolff last name 🤨

username55: holy shit look at those flowers

username56: ON HIS BIRTH MONTH EVERYONE!

username57: my expectations for men just went way up

username58: im assuming it'll be a very flower themed wedding??

lando: so according to my invitation, i shouldn't bring fireworks? will you be providing them or was it a typo?

➥ carlossainz55: this will be a firework free wedding lando.

➥ lando: WHAT

➥ charles_leclerc: NO FIREWORKS?

➥ maxverstappen1: well i already bought the fireworks so

➥ carlossainz55: do not set off fireworks at my wedding max.

➥ maxverstappen1: what the fuck am i going to do with all these fireworks

username60: im so excited for OUR wedding

username61: the bride right in the middle as she deserves

username62: the way yn has posted these exact photos on her story before..

➥ username63: private but never secret

➥ username64: i still can't believe they got away with this for THREE years

ynwolff: so ready for you to take my last name

➥ carlossainz55: so ready for you to take MY last name

➥ susie_wolff: technically you're taking my last name—toto wolff

➥ username65: you two should fight to the death, and whoever wins takes the others name

instagram • pomegranatesgossip • unknown ⚑

liked by ynwolff and 92,193 others!

pomegranatesgossip: two snippets of carlos talking about the wedding in a recent interview:

"I think the thing that bothers me the most is when people say 'is yn a bride...what do they call it? bride...zila?' I do not understand what is wrong with a woman wanting everything to be perfect on her big day. I don't think people understand how stressful it is to plan a wedding. It seems like all we do is plan, plan, plan. And I do love it because I want the day to be perfect for her, but if I'm not racing, I'm planning the wedding. So I understand why some women, especially when they don't have their fiancé to help them, can get a bit....angsty."

"When we had that talk about our future, one thing my YN made very clear was that she wanted a huge wedding. She wanted different dresses, different cakes, different venues, everything. So, I think it was our fourth date when I started taking note of everything she liked—I actually still have the list—so when we did plan the wedding, it would be easier, you know? what flowers she loved versus which ones she just liked. It did make it easier. Instead of going crazy over two good choices, we can easily pick one."

view comments below!

username66: oh my gosh he's so in love???

username67: that was supposed to be my man

username68: i am begging you guys to go see the actual video because the heart eyes he gets when talking about yn is so 🥰

ynwolff: i knew there was no way he just memorized my top 50 favorite flowers... 🤨

➥ carlossainz55: i’m sorry baby i have bad memory

➥ username69: THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY MAN

username70: his yn everyone

username71: HE KNEW HE WAS GOING TO MARRY HER BY THE FOURTH DATE! THE FOURTH

instagram • carlossainzwolff55 • sep 1

liked by ynwolffsainz, alex_albon, and 1,726,917 others!

carlossainzwolff55: Mrs. Yn Wolff-Sainz 🫀

view comments below!

username72: i just woke up wtf happened

username73: oh so by september you meant the FIRST of the month

username74: THAT DRESS

danielricciardo: beautiful wedding, beautiful bride 🍾

➥ carlossainzwolff55: 🤨

➥ lando: you don’t have to be so jealous anymore, you’re married now!

➥ carlossainzwolff55: 🤨

username75: he wasted NO TIME changing that username 😭

username76: for those who are in a different time zone and missed the insta story’s, here’s a summary: yn had 3 different dresses, they had 4 different venues? (what it looked liked) and a shit load of flowers, ALSO toto cried

➥ susie_wolff: is it so shocking that i cried at my beautiful daughters first wedding? — toto wolf

➥ username76: you need to get an instagram account old man

➥ carlosainzwolff55: first and ONLY wedding ** 🙂

username77: they took each others last name 🥹

username78: its so scute how he’s the one that’s always the first to post

lando: would’ve been better with fireworks

➥ charles_leclerc: agreed

➥ maxverstappen1: totes

➥ carlossainzwolff55: god forbid i don’t want tacky fireworks at my wedding

➥ maxverstappen1: TACKY??? I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW MY FIREWORK GUY ONLY GETS ME TOP OF THE LINE EXPLOSIVES

➥ username79: top of the line and fireworks should not be associated

username80: we’ve come so far in such little time

username81: it’s carlos’s birthday…

➥ username82: OH MY GOD THEY GOT MARRIED ON HIS BIRTHDAY

ynwolffsainz: i love you 🫀

➥ carlossainzwolff: i love you MORE 🥰

➥ alex_albon: sick to my stomach (beautiful wedding btw!)

username83: the picture in the middle?? jaw dropped.

➥ username84: it’s my new wallpaper 😭

username85: i see my future and its bright

username86: thank you for all the wedding inspo!

username87: so can we refer to toto as old man wolff now? because it’ll get real confusing real quick if we don’t change something

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae! I was in a car accident yesterday (car took most of the damage, I’m ok other than bruises and sore muscles) and the whole thing has been a whirlwind of insurance and hospital and half asleep crying. I was wondering if I could request James potter x reader for comfort in a situation like that? I’m going through it rn lol hope you’re having a good day :)

Oh I'm sorry lovely! I had a very similar thing happen a little over a year ago, it's sooooo exhausting even when luckily no one is seriously hurt. Thanks for requesting, hope you're having a good/better day too <33

cw: past car accident, no details but talk of general aftermath of police questioning, insurance, etc.

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 799 words

The way James half-jogs up to the automatic doors of the hospital, seeming caught between walking and running, feels like someone is pressing down on the bruise of your chest. You wish you’d called him sooner. 

“James,” you call as he comes in, hating how your voice cuts through the taut quiet of the waiting area. It’s worth it for how his whole self softens when his eyes find you. 

He slows to a fast walk the rest of the way to you, the urgency slowly leaving him—which is appropriate, there is no urgency, everything has happened already—like an engine running out of gas. You stand as he nears, and both of you reach for each other before James hesitates. His hands stop midair, his brow tightening for a moment, before they come tentatively to your elbows.

“Hi,” he says, squeezing. “How bad is it?” 

“For me or the car?” you joke. 

“You.” James is feeling too earnest for joking, it seems. “Well, both of you. But you first.” 

You really thought you’d cry when you saw him. Worried you’d make a whole scene, blubbering and inconsolable, but you don’t seem to have any tears left. It makes sense, you suppose; you’ve cried a lot in the past few hours. First the slow, shaky kind right after getting out of your car, and then a real cry when a police officer had pulled you aside to get your version of events. (It had been embarrassing. She’d been nice about it, though.) Now, you wait for the tears to come, but for all your relief at seeing your boyfriend you feel rather dried up. 

It makes you wish, once again, that you’d called James sooner. You’d wanted to, of course, but you’d been nearly certain you’d be even less capable of holding yourself together if he were there, and there wasn’t much reason for him to be anyways. He was at work and you weren’t terribly hurt, so there was really nothing he could have done while you were talking to the police and the tow company and the paramedics and attempting not to drown in an overwhelm of insurance information. The only thing you really wanted him for was to hold your hand.

“I’m okay,” you say, the necessary preface. “A bit bruised up. My chest got the worst of it.” 

Unconsciously, your hand comes to your sternum as if to demonstrate, gravitating towards the center of the ache. James’ hand follows, seemingly just as thoughtless as it covers your own. He can’t see the bruise, but he makes a low, sad sound anyway. 

His care softens your voice. “They said my neck will probably hurt tomorrow, but it doesn’t yet.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” James sounds really, truly heartbroken for you. “And the rest, it hurts a lot?” 

You shrug. What’s a lot? You know you could’ve had worse, much worse; still, you could do without that frightening soreness that comes with each breath. 

“It’s not too bad,” you say. “I could still hug.” 

It’s the question he’s been dying to ask, clearly. James’ arms are around you in a second, ardent but still gentle, palms pressing to the high and low points of your bag. It’s a good hug. You melt a little against him. 

James tucks his face into the side of your neck, like he’s trying to get as much contact with you as he can. “I wish you’d called me when it happened.” 

“You were at work.” 

“I’d have left work.” 

“There wasn’t anything you could do. I was fine, I just had to…” a little sigh escapes you, exhaustion creeping in now that he’s here “...talk to people. Insurance and all that.” 

James makes a soft, half-agreeing sound. His thumb strokes the base of your neck. “Still. I could have held your hand.” 

A new ache rises in the back of your throat, coming to join the rest. You wind your arms tighter around James. 

After a few, silent moments, he kisses your neck chastely and loosens his hold. “Ready to go home? Anything else you need?” 

You shake your head. “I’m signed out,” you say, so eager you feel like you could float out the doors. You hope you can entice James to lie in bed with you when you get home. You think you’ll sleep until tomorrow. “Let’s go, please.” 

“Alright, you don’t have to say please, sweetheart.” James curls an arm around your shoulders, pressing a smile into your cheek. “We can go. You need one of those wheelchairs for me to take you out to the car?” 

“Ha ha,” you say drily. “No.” 

“Just checking. Think maybe I ought to ask for one, just in case?”

“James. I will take your car home without you in it.” 

“Alright, lovie, I’m coming.”

[fawnindawn]

Summary: Dick Grayson has an internal breakdown and he finds himself at your window. (aka. in his worst moments, he always thinks to find you first)

"Dick?"

Dick Grayson is the closest equivalent to daylight befalling a ruined city, a ray of light that gives warmth to those in the shadows. He's a symbol as much as the Bat, if not more. Maybe that's why you're not surprised to find him outside your windowsill, resting on the brick wall on the outside of your apartment.

His head shuffles to meet your gaze, and you meet blue instead of a domino mask. So he's not here for work.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-" He brings his hands up to gesture but his expression grows frustrated. That's a rare thing, for him to fall short on words. "I just needed to clear my head and I ended up here."

You don't comment on why his first destination was your apartment windowsill, only stepping out into the freezing cold, wrapping your sweater tighter around yourself as you sit beside him. Now that you're closer, you see tear streaks dried on his cheek.

“Guess you can see how much of a mess I am right now.” He laughs humourlessly, in such a self-depreciating tone that you’ve never once heard from him.

You're silent, unsure of this new territory you've stepped into. You're not surprised, to see someone that always shines so bright grow tired, but you've never thought he'd come to you. “No. I can see you’re human like the rest of us.”

He goes silent, but you know you’ve got his attention.

“I’m not blind to the pressure you take on, and how you keep pushing on without so much as a break. You act as a pillar to everyone, but I hope you know pillars have supports too. Don’t carry this all alone.” You tentatively place your hand on his shoulder, unused to comforting others, especially him, but you’re willing to try because- Even on the days he doesn't believe in himself, you still do. “Sometimes you’ve got me fooled with your charming smile, I forget to ask if you need someone to share your burdens.”

“You think my smile’s charming?” He says with a slight quip up his lips.

“Oh, don’t start.” You roll your eyes, knowing of course he’d focus on that of all things.

He looks at you, and his stare is a considering one. For what, you don’t know. Whether to let you in, or keep you out, maybe?

“What?” You whisper.

“Just wondering if you find me less charming right now.”

You blink in surprise and laugh, because that is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard. “The sun will cease to exist before anyone finds you less charming.”

“I’m not asking just anyone.” He murmurs.

You pause, feeling something change in the air with his awaiting gaze. You clear your throat, taking him in, this rare view of a human Dick Grayson with tousled hair, wearing a slept-in shirt and loose sweatpants. Your heart beats faster at the sight and you look away.

"I think it's nice to see you when you're human." You answer eventually. He seems less unreachable and more tangible here on your fire escape, as the two of you slowly huddle closer for warmth.

"I think you might be the only few." He whispers back, leaning so close you can feel his hair tickle at your cheek. He slumps his head into the crook of your shoulder, letting out a sigh. "I don't think I know what I'm doing some days. And why people listen to me when they shouldn't."

You hum, knowing that feeling of self-doubt. "I think it's unfair to expect yourself to know everything. And I happen to know why people listen to you."

"Why's that?" He turns briefly, eyes meeting yours. At this distance, your noses nearly touch.

"Because you word everything with such sincerity, it's impossible not to remember what you say. You speak with your heart in your mouth, and when you constantly show others the faith you have in them unconditionally, it's only natural for the favour to be returned."

You don't notice his look of wonder at your words, at how he wonders if you know that the way you speak of him is how he views you. Maybe he was the pillar to others, but he's always thought of you as his.

"I never thought of it that way." He admits.

"Maybe you're too busy shining your light on others that you forget to see yourself." You take his hand, noticing the nail marks resulting from a clenched fist, and hold it tight. "You've got me, Gray, if you ever feel yourself falling."

He grips your hand back, lacing your fingers together. He uses his other hand to trace your interlocked fingers, eventually resting on your pulse. Focusing on the beat after the detonation of your words that set his heart on fire, he finds it hard to respond with words that could measure up to his gratitude.

You always seem to have that effect on him, rendering him speechless to your integrity. Maybe that's why his heart always knew to come to you.

"You've got a way with words, bird."

You smile then, and his mind goes blank at the sight. "I learnt from the best."

Oh, he might just kiss you tonight.

[ineffabildaddy]

i think it might be lost on some good omens fans who've either never been in a fandom before, or have only been in very big fandoms for that matter, how truly lucky we are.

we have new fan content to see at any time of day or night, no matter what else is going on in the world. there is a constant, and i do mean constant stream of new art, new fics, new meta, new gifs, new shitposts, new discussions, new video edits, new links to other websites where those things also exist... one could scroll through good omens tumblr all day, every day, and they wouldn't run out of new things to look at, due to the rate at which things are being produced, and the number of people who are producing them (i say this as someone who basically did this while recovering from top surgery back in 2023, when season 2 had not long come out). it would take a person an awfully long time to see all the good omens fan content there is to see, and that's just on this one platform.

most fandoms, for active media or not, cannot relate to this phenomenon. it's crazy, in the most wonderful way. i think we are this way bc we truly do have great source material, shot and performed by brilliant people, and therefore it is the kind of source material that attracts passionate, analytical obsessives (this is a compliment to all of us, not an insult!).

there'll come a time after s3 when things will slow down, i know that. so i want us to all appreciate how much we have now. at least once a day i stop and think about how grateful i am that this fandom became part of my life, and i hope you have that inclination too, at least once in a while.<3

but this doesn't happen by magic. you need to reblog, not just like; comment, not just leave kudos; share and rec, not just enjoy independently. with fandom, you get what you put into it, and the more you get involved the more fulfilment you'll get out of it. trust me on that<3

[imsofreakingtired]

Can we PLEASE get an angsty sevika!Xreader headcannon for reader who is a removing shimmer addict and is struggling with cravingssss

omg i love that. also, sorry this took a while, couldn't figure out a way with a hc list so i wrote it as a drabble instead 😭

hold me, console me

content warning(s): depictions of addiction and withdrawal

"come on, don't leave me, it can't be that easy babe if you believe me, i guess i'll get on a plane fly to your city, excited to see your face hold me, console me, and then i'll leave without a trace"

~~~

“Sevika,” you groan, “I’m going to die.” 

“I hope not.”

She walks into the room, twisting off her prosthetic arm. This is a good sign. It means she is ready to settle down with you, that she doesn’t have any plans of leaving again for a while. 

Sevika sits down on the side of the bed where you’re lying with your knees curled against your chest, trying to breathe through wave after wave of pain. She places her warm hand on your thigh and straightens your leg. Her voice is soft. “Stretch, baby. It’ll get easier.” 

What they didn’t tell you about coming off Shimmer: the muscle spasms. The blinding headaches. Your body can’t adjust to the sudden drop in energy after such intense and constant enhancement of the senses. It is recoiling at normality. It is punishing itself for ever getting hooked in the first place. 

You can deal with the physical symptoms, though. You’ve been through some shit. You’re tough enough to handle a little pain. What you can’t stand are the cravings, the nightmares, the paranoia. You wake up several times a night in a cold sweat, shaking uncontrollably after some terrifying, nonsensical dream. You break down at the most inconvenient times, convinced that Sevika has finally gotten sick of you, that she’s leaving you, that she’s already gone. On really bad days you’re ready to kill for just one shot, one tiny vial, just to take the edge off. You crave the kick, the rush of heat in your head, the burst of energy. The feeling that you can do anything. Even as it killed you slowly, even as you felt the aftereffects eroding your body. You know in the back of your mind that the decision to quit has saved your life. But gods, was it hard to stay off it. 

Sevika watches your face with gentle eyes as she massages your legs. Her big hand, rough with calluses, powerful and tender. She is strong even without Shimmer. When you were using it, you felt almost like you deserved her, that you belonged to her—that you could repay her even a little for what she did for you. 

Now you look up at her and wonder what she sees first—the traces of Shimmer, the faded pink veins lining your skin? The desperation in your eyes? The way your limbs lie, depleted and scarred from the past use of the substance? 

“Sevika,” you say.

“Hmm.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Me when I was on it.” You shift on the bed, your head feeling heavy. “You know…you know how I fucked like you never saw before when I was on it.” You mean it to be a joke, but you can’t bring yourself to smile. This is your fear: that she met you when you weren’t quite yourself, that she’s disappointed in the person you actually turned out to be. 

She’s quiet for a moment. Then she asks in a low voice, “do you think I was with you because of the way Shimmer made you in bed?”

“I’m useless now,” you say. You feel the tears burning behind your eyes, and you’re ashamed of the way your voice falters. “I can’t even lift a full crate of bottles.” 

Sevika moves closer to you. You push yourself away, not because you don’t want her to touch you, but because you don’t want her pity. You dread some words of nonsense flattery, empty reassurance. You don’t want her to lie to you, then turn her back, the way countless others have done before. It was part of the reason why you started using Shimmer in the first place—so you could feel, for once in your life, that you were powerful—someone people wanted to stay for. 

She doesn’t say anything of the sort, though. You’re lying on your side now, back turned to her so you can’t see her face. 

She says, “get over here, idiot.” 

You turn your head. She lies down beside you, aligning her body close against yours. The heat of her skin feels good against your aching back. She wraps her right arm over your waist, pulling you close to her. 

Into your shoulder she murmurs, “you’re not useless.” 

The tears gather in your eyes and you can’t stop them from falling into the bedsheets. 

“It’ll get easier,” she says again. She brushes your hair away, kisses your neck. “And I’m always gonna want you.” 

“How did you do it?” you whisper. “It must have been so much worse for you.” 

“Baby, does this body look like it’s built the same way as yours?” 

You laugh weakly. 

“It was hell,” Sevika says. “So I get it.” 

You reach for her hand and hold it close to your heart. “It’s still beating, right?” You ask. 

“Yes, thank god.” 

“You’re not leaving, right?” 

“No, fool. Get some rest.” 

You let your eyes close. Your breathing grows even. Sevika is not a woman of many words, but you know that when she makes a promise she will keep it.

~~~

thank you @prettyinpink69 for the req :)

[writeriguess]

Hey hun! Welcome back 😘

So, i have a kind of slow burn idea for a Bakugo x fem!reader fic. They both like each other and when she tries to ask him out or talk to him about it, he's kind of an ass 😅

He thinks she'll be in the way or a distraction to his goal, so he pushes her away. He can't get her out of his head though and their friends tell him he's being an idiot. Eventually, he cracks and tells her (in his very 'katsuki' way) that he does want to be with her.

Angst ending with lots of fluff, confessions, and a kiss please!

author's note: Thank you so much! <3 I just wanted to say that your idea was incredible, and I had such a great time writing it. It turned out to be much longer than I expected, but it was definitely worth it!

Heart of Dynamite

It started with stolen glances. You weren’t sure when you first noticed, but something about the way Bakugo Katsuki acted around you was different. He wasn’t nice, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there was something else buried beneath the rough edges and sharp remarks. A fleeting glance when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he always seemed to hover nearby during group exercises, subtly ensuring you didn’t get caught off guard.

You weren’t blind. You saw the way his crimson eyes would flick to you during lunch, only for him to look away just as quickly if you caught him. You noticed how his explosions during sparring would seem almost… controlled when directed your way—less destructive, more calculated. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you wonder. Enough to make you hope.

The problem was, Bakugo being Bakugo, he’d never admit to something as human as feelings. If he did like you, he was keeping it buried under a mountain of anger, pride, and whatever complicated emotions made up Katsuki Bakugo.

But still, the moments added up. And with each passing day, your crush grew stronger. You hated the way your heart fluttered when he called you by name instead of his usual nicknames for everyone else. You hated how you’d secretly look forward to his biting remarks because, in some twisted way, it was his version of paying attention to you.

And most of all, you hated how much courage it took to even consider confessing to him.

After weeks of agonizing over it, you finally decided you couldn’t live with the "what if." No matter what, you needed to know.

The opportunity came on a rare quiet evening at the dorms. Everyone else had gone out for karaoke, leaving you and Bakugo alone. He was sprawled on the couch in the common area, his arms crossed, staring at some mindless action movie playing on the TV.

You hovered at the doorway, your heart racing. You almost turned back, but then his gruff voice interrupted your thoughts.

"What the hell are you standing there for? You look like a damn idiot."

You flinched, but quickly steeled yourself. "I just… needed to ask you something."

His gaze flicked to you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Then spit it out already. Don’t waste my time."

Your hands were clammy as you stepped closer, each word feeling heavier than the last. "Do you… want to go out with me? Like, on a date?"

For a moment, Bakugo just stared at you. His usual scowl didn’t shift, but you could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes—so quick you almost missed it. His jaw tensed, his hands clenching into fists on his lap.

Then, he scoffed. Loudly.

"You serious?" he said, leaning back against the couch like your question was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. "Why the hell would I want to go out with you?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your throat tightened, and your chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

"I mean, come on," he continued, his tone sharp and cutting. "What makes you think I’d waste my time on something dumb like that?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but not from embarrassment—from the sting of his rejection. You struggled to keep your voice steady. "I just thought… maybe—"

"Well, you thought wrong," he cut you off, his voice cold and unrelenting. "So stop acting like some lovesick idiot and get over it."

The silence that followed was unbearable. You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff with no way to step back.

"Got it," you said finally, your voice small and strained. You turned on your heel before he could see the tears pooling in your eyes.

Bakugo didn’t move. He stayed on the couch, staring at the TV that he wasn’t really watching. His nails dug into his palms, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking about you—or himself.

Hours passed, but Bakugo didn’t leave the couch. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind: the look on your face, the way your voice had cracked when he tore you down.

He hated himself for it. Hated the way he’d lashed out, even though he knew it was because he was terrified. Of what? He didn’t know. Maybe of admitting to himself that he cared. Maybe of the fact that you could make him feel so out of control with just one stupid question.

But now it was too late. He’d pushed you away.

You, on the other hand, locked yourself in your room, curled up on your bed, and let the tears flow. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid, so naive. Of course Bakugo didn’t like you. Of course he didn’t care. You’d just been projecting your feelings onto him, imagining things that weren’t really there.

Still, the hurt lingered. You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that you’d move on, but the ache in your chest said otherwise.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting downstairs, fists clenched, consumed by his own turmoil. Because for all his bluster, he’d never wanted to hurt you. He just didn’t know how to deal with the truth: that he did like you, more than he was willing to admit.

Bakugo tried to convince himself that what he’d said to you was necessary. He had goals—real, tangible goals—and nothing, no one, was going to distract him. Becoming the Number One Hero wasn’t just a dream for him; it was a mission, an obligation, a destiny he was determined to carve out with his own blood, sweat, and tears. He didn’t need complications. He didn’t need feelings. He didn’t need you. That’s what he told himself over and over as he sat alone in his dorm room, glaring at the wall like it had personally offended him. His fists were clenched tightly in his lap, the tendons in his hands straining from the pressure.

But no matter how hard he tried to justify it, he couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind. The way your expression had crumbled when he snapped at you, the hurt in your eyes as you turned and walked away—it all replayed in his head on an endless, agonizing loop. He could still hear your voice trembling when you’d asked him out, soft and vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to hearing from you. You weren’t the kind of person who let your guard down easily, and he’d taken that rare moment of courage and crushed it underfoot.

“Tch,” he growled under his breath, running a hand through his hair and gripping the strands in frustration. “Stupid.”

He thought that pushing you away would make things easier, but it didn’t. If anything, it made everything worse. You were everywhere. Every time he walked into a room, his eyes automatically searched for you, even when he told himself they wouldn’t. When you laughed with your friends, the sound sent an irritating warmth through his chest, only to be followed by a sharp pang of regret when he remembered the look on your face that night. During training, he found himself tracking your every move without even meaning to, his instincts on high alert every time you dodged an attack or threw a punch. He hated it. Hated how you’d wormed your way into his head and refused to leave. Hated how much he wanted to be near you, even after he’d made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with you.

It didn’t help that everyone else seemed to notice his turmoil. His friends had started giving him strange looks during meals, their eyes darting between him and you as if they were waiting for something to happen. Kirishima, in particular, had been annoyingly persistent, watching him with that infuriatingly knowing expression he always wore when he thought Bakugo was being an idiot. Bakugo did his best to ignore it, but the tension was impossible to escape.

One evening, when the others were hanging out in the common area, Kirishima finally confronted him. Bakugo had been sitting on the couch, staring at his phone without really looking at it, when Kirishima plopped down beside him with a heavy sigh. Mina and Kaminari weren’t far behind, hovering nearby like vultures waiting for a meal.

“Alright, spill it,” Kirishima said, his voice casual but firm. Bakugo barely spared him a glance.

“Spill what?” he snapped, his tone as sharp as ever.

“Don’t play dumb,” Mina chimed in, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him. “You’ve been acting weird for days, and we all know why.”

“I’m not in the mood for this crap,” Bakugo growled, standing up to leave, but Kirishima quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Bakugo glared at him, his crimson eyes blazing. “Move.”

“Not until you admit what’s going on,” Kirishima said, his voice steady despite the obvious tension in the air. “You pushed her away, didn’t you?”

Bakugo froze, his scowl deepening. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kirishima said, his tone unusually serious. “Come on, man. It’s so obvious you like her. Everyone can see it.”

“I don’t—”

“Save it,” Mina interrupted, stepping closer with a look that could cut through steel. “We’ve seen the way you look at her. And don’t even get me started on the way you lose your mind whenever she partners up with someone else during training. You care about her, and instead of doing something about it, you’re being a total dumbass.”

Bakugo’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t have time for this crap,” he muttered, shoving past Kirishima and heading for the door. But before he could leave, Kirishima’s voice rang out behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

“You think pushing her away will make you stronger,” Kirishima said, his voice softer now, almost sad. “But all you’re doing is proving how scared you are.”

Bakugo’s shoulders tensed, his hand gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out,” Kirishima continued, his tone unwavering. “But running from it won’t make it go away.”

For a moment, Bakugo didn’t move. The room was silent, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Finally, he yanked the door open and walked out, slamming it shut behind him without another word.

That night, Bakugo lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling with an intensity that could have set it on fire. Kirishima’s words echoed in his head, mingling with the memory of your voice and the image of your face. He hated how much it all got to him, how much he couldn’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard he tried. He hated the way his chest ached every time he thought about the hurt in your eyes and the way you’d walked away from him, your shoulders slumped in defeat. But most of all, he hated how much he wanted to see you again, to fix things, to say something—anything—that could make up for what he’d done.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to move on. You’d been avoiding Bakugo as much as possible, throwing yourself into training and schoolwork to keep your mind occupied. It wasn’t easy, though. Every time you saw him, whether it was in class or during meals, you felt a sharp pang of hurt that refused to go away. You hated how much he still affected you, even after he’d made it painfully clear that he didn’t feel the same way.

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you’d be fine without him, the ache in your chest lingered. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong to hope, if you’d been foolish to believe that he might have cared about you even a little.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting in his room, wrestling with his own feelings and cursing himself for the way he’d handled things. Because for all his bravado and pride, the truth was unavoidable: he couldn’t stop thinking about you. And the more he tried to push you out of his mind, the more you consumed his every thought.

The days following your rejection from Bakugo had been a haze of hurt and confusion. You tried to keep yourself busy—extra training, study sessions, anything to keep your mind from replaying the harsh way he’d dismissed you. But no matter how much you told yourself to let it go, it lingered. You still felt the sting of his words, the way he’d looked at you like you were an obstacle instead of someone he cared about. That wound didn’t heal easily.

You avoided him as much as you could. You’d shift to a different group during training, sit at the far end of the cafeteria during meals, and leave the common area whenever he showed up. It wasn’t as subtle as you hoped; your friends noticed, and you were pretty sure Bakugo did too. Still, you couldn’t face him—not after everything he’d said.

What you didn’t know was that your absence weighed on him far more than he let on.

Bakugo was not a man who easily admitted to mistakes. Pride had been ingrained in him from an early age, and he carried it like armor. But lately, that armor felt suffocating, like it was pressing in on him from all sides. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop replaying the hurt in your eyes when he’d lashed out. Every time he saw you purposely turning away from him or laughing with someone else, he felt a sharp pang of regret that he didn’t know how to fix.

Kirishima’s words lingered too. “You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out. But running from it won’t make it go away.” As much as Bakugo wanted to punch him for saying it, he knew it was true. He’d been running from his feelings because they terrified him. You terrified him—not because you were weak, but because of how much power you had over him without even realizing it. And that was what scared him most of all.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. Watching you avoid him, knowing he’d been the one to hurt you—it was eating him alive. If he didn’t do something soon, he was going to explode.

That’s what led him here, standing awkwardly a few feet away from where you sat on the bench outside. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on the notebook in your lap. For a moment, he hesitated, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar. Was this… nerves? He growled under his breath, frustrated with himself. He was Bakugo Katsuki, for crying out loud. He didn’t get nervous.

“Oi.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, and you jumped slightly, startled by his sudden presence.

You looked up, your eyes widening for a split second before your expression hardened. “What do you want?”

Bakugo flinched at the coldness in your tone, though he tried to hide it. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” you asked, already sounding exasperated. “If this is about training or some stupid lecture—”

“It’s not about training,” he cut in, stepping closer. His jaw tightened as he tried to find the right words. He wasn’t good at this, but he had to try. “It’s about what I said to you before.”

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into your expression. “Why are you bringing that up now? You already made your feelings perfectly clear, Bakugo. I don’t need to hear it again.”

He winced at the way you said his name—so formal, so distant. You used to call him Katsuki, back when things were simpler. Back when he hadn’t ruined everything.

“Just shut up and listen for a second, will you?” he snapped, though there was no real heat in his voice. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I… I screwed up, alright? I said some shit I didn’t mean, and I hurt you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your expression softened slightly, but your arms remained crossed, a barrier he knew he’d have to break through. “Then why did you do it? Why push me away if you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I’m a goddamn idiot,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. His gaze dropped to the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. “I thought… I thought if I let myself like you, I’d lose focus. That you’d get in the way of my goals.”

“And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Now I know that’s total bullshit,” he said, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “You don’t make me weaker. You make me want to be better. And no matter how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re in my head all the damn time, and it’s driving me insane.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, but you still hesitated. “You really hurt me, Katsuki,” you said softly, the pain evident in your voice. “I don’t know if I can just forget that.”

He stepped closer, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I’m not asking you to forget it. I’m asking for a chance to fix it. I was a dumbass, and I don’t deserve it, but… I want to try. With you.”

The vulnerability in his voice was so raw, so uncharacteristic, that it left you speechless. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret and determination.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this,” he interrupted, his hands twitching at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m not some smooth-talking idiot like Kaminari, and I’m probably gonna screw up a hundred more times. But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not gonna hurt you again.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his words sank in. This was Bakugo Katsuki—the same boy who never admitted when he was wrong, who bulldozed his way through life without looking back. And here he was, laying his pride at your feet, just for a chance to make things right.

“You’re really bad at this, you know,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

He huffed, his cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly my strong suit.”

You laughed softly, the sound making his chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. For the first time in weeks, you felt the tension between you start to dissolve.

“So, what now?” you asked, taking a tentative step closer.

“Now I do this,” he said, his voice low as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he leaned in. His crimson eyes searched yours for a moment, and when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance and kissed you.

The kiss was tentative at first, almost shy, but it quickly deepened as you responded, your hands reaching up to grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer. He kissed you like he was trying to make up for every moment he’d wasted, pouring all the unspoken feelings he couldn’t put into words into that one act.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads resting together, you were both breathless. He smirked, his usual cocky confidence creeping back in. “Told you I’d make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You’ve got a long way to go, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed the gruffness of his tone. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and prove it.”

And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right.

Feel free to request <3

[vxlentinescookies]

Ajax listen,,,,listen to me Ajax-

Self Aware AU, where the cookies come to the player's/reader's world. Pick whichever characters you wanna include, I just need to see this 🙏

→ ❛Part of your world❜

→ Characters ; Longan Dragon Cookie, Burning Spice Cookie, Shadow Milk Cookie, Timekeeper Cookie & Millennial Tree Cookie → Quote ; ❛❛If someone came to you and told you “One day you’ll have those who you love the most in the palm of your hand”, well… you never thought that’d become true, nor that it’d be a metaphor…❜❜ → Genre ; Headcanons/Drabble → A/N ; This took me a whole ass night to make and 2500+ words to finish, I hope you like it /lh

Longan Dragon Cookie

“How quaint… to believe someone like you lives in such a… small place”

Having Longan Dragon in your home was… curious to say the least. Not something you expected, yet here you were, with a dragon looking at you as they squatted in your bedroom.

Longan would be hypercritical of the place you lived, noting things like “This looks cheap” or “Its far too small”

Despite that, Longan would be quite intrigued in your life, wanting to see how you worked or what you did, they’d follow you around when not sitting in your living room and meditating.

Nevertheless, they’re there for a reason, they’re with you for a reason, and they’ll make that reason known very, very soon.

It’d take Longan a few months, but eventually, they would come to sit by your side at the table, not sitting down on a chair but instead, sitting down by your side quite literally. They’d stare at you for long moments before finally leaning their head on your shoulder, the weight catching you off guard as you looked at them. 

“... I’ll make sure you live like you deserve one of these days” They’d say, and in that moment, you understood why there had been so many disappearances of delinquents and robbers nearby…

If you’re wondering what they’d do in your world, then…

One of the few favorite activities of Longan was to read, so much so, that you had to request books from the library more often than not, but with the way Longan was reading them… It had just been a few months, and yet this dragon had consumed almost all of your local library’s books.  So, when they finished reading most of your books, they’d chose to write them. And they’d write about what they saw, about everything they had seen around them, everything they had seen in this new world, and in some sense, it was intriguing to see how a dragon explored the new world they were in, the little things that werent intriguing to you were greatly important to them, in a way that got you even more intrigued by how they saw you.

“... You want to know how I see you?” They’d ask.

You knew fully well that you shouldnt expect much, after all, this was Longan Dragon we were talking about, they werent a kind dragon, they saw cookies as lesser beings, and humans now by extensions, but as you asked them that question, they’d only smile and pat your head softly.

“You’re the reason Im here… Of course I would think highly of you”

A genuine smile, it made your heart flutter as they spoke, a hand going to cup your chin in it.

“You’re interesting, perhaps, one of the most interesting things I’ve seen in this world.”

Besides writing, they’d follow you around and take note of everything you’d do… And by night, they’d curl by your side, taking most of the bed as they allow you to take rest in their chest, as they allow you to take rest in their breaths while their hands thread on your hair.

Burning Spice Cookie

“How intriguing…! Never would I have expected your home to be so… so… erm…”

Another one who seems to heavily judge your house, but also, another one who appears in your home kneeling because it is so small compared to him.

Either way, he gets eased into the ambient quite easily, his search for entertainment leading him to see through everything and all the world has to offer.

Until he… gets bored, again, because your world isnt as different from his (and in some sense, it is… actually… more boring than his old world…)

So, he moves to the next thing closest to him for entertainment!

“Little one, come here” 

He’d call forward to you once, looking at you with dark yet fiery eyes and an everlasting smile, though you knew this once it hid something, after all, despite him coming to your world for x or y reason, it involved you, it always involved you…

“Entertain me” Would be his words once you approached him, his smile becoming only more cryptic as you lifted an eyebrow at his voice. Entertain, him? In what sense or way would you be able to entertain someone akin to a god? 

Seeming to sense your doubt, Burning Spice would only come and hold you from your shirt, lifting you up before staring at you and then…

“Hahahah, you should’ve looked at your face, you really are an interesting one!”

If you’re wondering what he’d do in your world, then…

Besides seeking something for entertainment, Burning spice is in some sense able to somewhat pass through the crowd, and by that I mean he can somewhat pass as just a very tall human. Nonetheless, between choosing to hit the gym and sending you pictures, he’ll also follow you around, finding even the most monotonous tasks fairly entertaining if it has you in it. Its a weird combo, being outside with a dude in a hoodie and sweat pants following you around while doing groceries, or being in the metro and getting a fairly nice picture of him flexing for you. Burning spice is a menace…

“Aye, welcome home! I took care of some pesky people while you were gone… It was fun hearing their screams…”

…in far more ways than one.

Either way, you two also share a bed, its not like you have a choice with how clingy he can become when sleeping, pulling you in his arms in a heated hug (in the sense that he literally irradiates heat) while snoring loudly, you’ve gotten complaints from neighbors (if you live in an apartment), but somehow… they’ve… they’ve quieted down recently… However, when you ask Burning Spice, he just laughs it off.

Shadow Milk Cookie

“Woowee, what do we have here, sweetheart?”

Not as judgemental of your home, no, for once someone isnt as focused on where you live but…

He is focused on you, looking at you up and down, before hitting his head on the roof of your room, ouch!

He spends most of the days following you around though, using his magic to stay hidden from most people, so much that people may find you crazy for seeing you talk to… nothing!

Either way, much like the others, he’s there for a reason…

“Why Im here?”

You asked Shadow Milk once, after a good few months, what the jester had come to do in your own home. In fact, it perplexed you so much that when you asked him, the feeling seemed to be shared. It was… intriguing to say the least, but he’d only smile before clasping his hands together and saying in a song-esque tune.

“Becuase you’re sooooooooooo interesting, darlin! Just look at you, how could I NOT come here with you?”

Truth to be told, he saw you as who you really were, in some sense he saw you as someone who didnt fall for lies easily, he saw you as someone who saw beyond that and you were… interesting. You were a shot in the dark, and he just had, to have you near.

“You’re so silly, darlin, sososososo silly” He’d add in, patting your head softly as you only smiled and blushed slightly, even while knowing his smile and gaze hid a million of thoughts, and a million of even more ideas.

If you’re wondering what he’d do in your world, then…

When not reading around in your home, or following you to the library to read some books, he’d be looking over your shoulder, reading every single note, watching every single thing you do, it makes him curious, how someone so quaint has him wrapped around your finger. And yet, he cant help but smile at the idea of being just like that, wrapped around your finger in a sweet loving embrace.

He’d be the most romantic of the bunch, the one that makes it the most prominent that he’s there with you because he likes you, he dosent even hide it fully despite his jester-esque persona, he just cant hide it! So, when you ask him about what he was doing one day in the balcony of your apartment, he’d only turn and smile softly.

“Why, I'm recreating one of your world’s theatre plays!” He’d say, and you make a mental note to go to the theatre more often… “And you’ve come just in time, silly (y/n)! I need someone to play dearest Juliet!”

You add that it is a tragic love story, and he only brushes it off, adding in that “actors are actors, sweetheart, now come in and act!” so you do, and you have a fun time doing a monologue to a bunch of people who stay and watch, before claps fill the air.

And when time comes to bed, he’ll be the first to curl up in your bed, curl like a cat who welcomes you into his arms so sweetly, you feel the scent of milk, lactonic as it is, and for once you feel safe.

Timekeeper Cookie

“Well, look what we have here!”

To find Timekeeper in your home means to have done something either right or wrong. In your case, its right.

They’re very much curious about everything from the things you do on a daily basis to your home and how electronics work.

Still, and much like some others in this list, they become quickly bored about it, choosing to focus on you as main form of entertainment

Still, you can expect certain shenanigans to ensue.

It was late at night when it happened, just as you were playing when a portal opened and dragged you inside of it. You were scared shitless that much is true but, when you saw the person who dragged you in, you simply could sigh in slight annoyance.

“What? Cant I drag my favorite person in for some fun?” They’d say with that ever present smile, Timekeeper chuckling as she smiled widely at you, before noticing… “Oh, right, it is night where you’re from, guess I took you out at the wrong time!”

You huffed and yawned, before sitting up and looking at your phone… Right, it didnt exactly work when in time rifts, but then again that raised the question, why did they bring you here to begin with? As if being presented with the question loud and clear, they’d clear her throat and speak yet again.

“I simply wanted to see you, nothing wrong with that now?” They’d say quite mischievously, picking you up and bringing you into her lap “Go on, lets- Hm?”

You’d fall asleep into her arms as soon as she picked you up, your calm quiet face being shown to her as you were held in her arms. Well, guess fun had to wait.

If you’re wondering what they’d do in your world, then…

Much like the others, they also enjoy reading, however, they focus on reading about engineering and mechanics, more so about the mechanics of your world to see if they’re any different from the ones of her world. To say there isnt much difference is but an understatement, there was a hefty amount of difference counting the technology from the TBD was far more advanced, but, even then, you’d be able to get the timekeeper intrigued by the nature of your world.

“Tell me more about your world, c’mon!” They’d ask one day, floating from a time rift as you cooked dinner. 

Unlike the others Timekeeper wasnt keen on staying in one place, still finding comfort in being inside time rifts most of the time, though they still visited you more often than not, more often than other places. Seeing them you’d ask her what she wanted to know, to which she’d hum before saying.

“Anything, I dont really find it entertaining seeing it myself—Explain your world to me yourself, doll!”

So when night comes after a long day chatting, it is you who clings to her softly, as she watches you sleep cozily by her side. She smiles and pats your head, because as much as she’d prefer to fade into a time rift, she knows she cant let you go so easily, no. Not when you finally showed her happiness.

“Interesting, this place is… quite interesting…”

Seeing someone as tall as Millennial Tree in your home is but a piece of the whole puzzle. You are dumbfounded but in some sense, seeing them kneel to greet you is almost laughable.

He’s big, very tall and a gentle giant overall, and it shows when he holds your hand and tells you that your world is interesting to him.

He’s just as curious as everyone else, looking at everything, looking at everyone, he’s curious about you, curious about your world, yet he knows it’d be dangerous to leave on his own.

So, you take him to the forest, planing on leaving him go but…

“I dont want to leave you alone…”

He’d speak with conviction, looking at you as your eyes widened and your face dropped. Just what you feared would happen. He’d hold your hands together, looking at you with some concern before smiling softly, kissing both of your palms.

“I came here for a reason, that much I know, and I know that reason is within you… Allow me to stay by your side, and I’ll do everything in my power to make it worth it.”

You have no power in you to say no, to turn down his offer after his gentle and sweet words, that day you realized that perhaps he did come to your world for a reason, a world so clad in evil and pain…

If you’re wondering what he’d do in your world, then…

When not travelling nor reading, he’s at home with you, cooking or revisiting each place he has gone to to help. He’s become… a sort of Messiah, you cant help it, become public enemy no.1 to some, and a savior to others, it truly depended on who you were asking. Your gaze would follow his as he trailed on a book you both were reading before he’d lean and kiss your forehead, things were… easy, happy with him there… You felt much happier.

“Is something the matter, sapling?” He’d ask, his gentleness carrying over to his voice as he hummed at your words saying it was nothing, but he knew better, still, he wouldnt push. “Are you perhaps tired?”

You pouted slightly before nodding, yes, you were quite tired, but you didnt want to admit to it. Still, he’d nod before moving the book to the side and lifting you into his arms. He’d carry you to your shared bedroom, careful on his way there before setting you on the bed with him, cozily, softly, carrying you to him as he pressed his lips on your forehead and your body to his.

“Sleep well, sunshine” He’d say, brushing hairs off your face before speaking again “Thank you for accepting me into your world…”

Honestly, how could you not at this point? With that thought in your head… You fell asleep.

[fairestwriting]

RAHHHH, I LOVR YOUR WRITING!!!!

Can I kindly request for Leona, Jade, and Idia with a Hyper! Reader?

Like, Reader is up for everything and anything and is always either preparing for shenanigans or doing them.

ah yes. the trio i am definitely not biased towards when it comes to writing stuff (TYSM im glad you like it!!! i hope you enjoy this too <33

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

It’s a good thing that you’re so lively, you can just have energy for the two of you, is the sort of thing you’ll hear from him a lot. Always seasoned with his signature snarky feeling, sometimes he’s more exasperated, and other times, he can actually sound quite fond and sweet.

The “Herbivore” nickname isn’t going away anytime soon, that’s for sure. It’s more than just a little jab at how non threatening you come off— You honestly kind of remind him of a rabbit. If you ask him to elaborate he says it’s because you’re “always hopping around and sticking your nose into other people’s business”. If you ask him for further explanation he says you’re just proving his point by being too curious.

To anyone who knows how to read him, it becomes quite visible that he’s really very unsuccessful at concealing how endearing he thinks your antics are. He’ll never miss an opportunity to tell you he’s absolutely not going to join you on whatever you’re up to that day, and yet… he’s always there to say these exact words.

You might manage to convince him to take you out on some fun dates, things like going to amusement parks or arcades. He actually really enjoys it, despite always playing up that unamused, grumpy act. Most of the time he’ll just stand on the sidelines and watch while you have your fun, but it’s not that hard to bait him into following you to the roller coaster. At the end of the day, he tells you he hopes you’re satisfied because he won’t be indulging you again too soon— Something you can easily prove wrong in about a week or so.

𐙚 Jade Leech

He’s always not-so-secretly overjoyed to hear about any new troublemaker type that might pop up into Azul’s radar. These people are always the most interesting to observe, after all. So even before you two actually spoke, you’ve been keeping him more than engaged.

Jade has no desire to actively cause anything that might count as mischief… or at least that’s what he says. It’s not a full blown lie, but the key word here really is “actively” — Any antics of yours that he can support will be supported. Whether by conveniently making others too intimidated to get in your way, or sharing little hints of possible interesting things to do around school. It takes him some time to start actually tagging along, even if it’s just to stand around and watch you having your fun, but when he starts to do it, he’s pretty much become your new henchman.

While he mostly keeps to himself, if you show any interest in going on hikes with him, or learning about mushrooms and such, you’ll find that he can match your energy level quite easily. Jade is actually a bit surprised at your enthusiasm when it comes to that, he’s always wondered how it’d be like to explore the woods with a partner. Very quick to make new hiking plans, even quicker to think of multiple creative ways to use up whatever you picked while out.

He finds himself smiling and laughing a lot when he’s by your side. Of course, he already does both often in general, but it’s different when he’s with you. You always have some new, interesting topic to talk about, paired with a remarkable skill to find entertaining points about seemingly anything, it’s really contagious to him.

𐙚 Idia Shroud

Thinks it’s a miracle someone like you ever became interested in him. Shouldn’t a pessimistic, anxious introvert just come off as boring to someone who’s so bright and active? For a good while, Idia just couldn’t understand how you’d even fit him into your world. You two are just so different—

He would’ve probably rejected you out of sheer hopelessness if it wasn’t for the fact that… pairing a cheerful character with a gloomy one is, in fact, a pretty popular romance trope in anime. A part of him, sort of shyly and almost guiltily, hoped that he would get to have that in real life one day.

The fact you’re even open to indulging his interests definitely helps to bring you two closer. He was so anxious about showing you anything he liked, even if it was some popular game everyone in school is talking about, it’s just too nerdy for someone like you, isn’t it? Sometimes he’s still comically surprised whenever you mention liking a game or something like that. But he can get over his nervousness pretty quickly when you suggest playing together, even if it’s just on call.

When you’re messing with other people, he likes watching it from afar. Texts asking for updates on how your latest plans are going. If he can, he’ll even bail you out of trouble, it’s not like it’s that hard to make one of the school cameras just stop working for a little bit… And he really likes your reactions to him doing things like that, the way you praise his skills with so much enthusiasm. It really makes him feel like he’s won in life, honestly.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[awyeahitssam]

Travelling back in time is an accident. Harry isn't going to waste it.

Harry glances at the calendar and grimaces. He can't go to Knockturn today. Hogwarts just let out for Summer holidays, and he's already decided to avoid the alleys until school term starts. Just in case... well. Just in case.

He never thought there would come a day that he missed Voldemort's soul pressing alongside his own, but it would make things simpler. If he could peer into Voldemort's mind, he wouldn't have to go about things the old fashioned way. As it is, one of his spies is twenty minutes late, and he can't snatch him from work on the off chance that children are wondering around places they shouldn't be.

Burke's still alive, at least. Harry would feel his death.

It does nothing for his current situation. There will be an attack today. 3 July, 1973 was significant. The day Voldemort's attacks went from targeting the Knights of Walpurgis' political opponents to involving the public.

He just can't remember where.

He knows this. He knows he does. But the time magic takes knowledge, seemingly at random, until he's left with bits of the puzzle. Harry knows Voldemort's broken his soul into pieces, but he no longer remembers what those pieces are called. He doesn't know what they're contained in, either, except one: Slytherin's locket.

Harry really needs to get a move on with this whole defeating Voldemort early thing before he forgets who he is. Forgets why he needs to.

He takes a deep breath. There's nothing for it. Diagon and Hogsmeade are the most obvious places to stage a first attack. Diagon is the more dramatic option, though Hogsmeade would strike fear, especially just a day after the children have left the station. Which one...

Fuck. He's got no time for guessing games, for hoping he knows Voldemort well enough to predict him. The Voldemort of this time is more politically minded than the one Harry defeated, and he's losing information by the day. Who knows how much he's forgotten about his Voldemort.

He needs Burke. He needs the bloody information.

Snape would be home, wouldn't he? His mother's still alive. There was no chance Lily Evans would be sulking about Knockturn. And the Marauders? No...

It should be safe enough.

It's a risk. If he sees one of them, he's going to screw up spectacularly. He has to steer clear.

Too bad he's still got a saving people thing.

He twists through the wards and lands at the apparition point. A moment later, the screaming starts.

Turns out he doesn't need his spy for this after all.

He runs towards the shouts, wand at the ready.

He puts it to good use.

"Evans?" Charlus calls out. "Is that you?"

Harry grimaces and keeps walking. Ever since he saved Charlus's baby brother in the Dark sects first Diagon Alley attack, Charlus Potter has been dogging his steps. The very last thing he wants is the be associated with this family. He already only manages to avoid being labeled a Potter by virtue of using the Sleekeazy's hair potions to settle the characteristic chaos of his hair.

If anyone can recognise its use, it is the inventor. Charlus dared to call him "cousin," before Harry sharply corrected him. He hasn't tried since, but he still has that gleam in his eyes. That set to his jaw.

The famous Potter stubbornness. Harry would be warmed by the fact that it exists outside of himself (and he is, truly, because even if he will never claim them as such, he has family here), but it's causing issues.

"Is that him, darling?" Another voice rings out, clear and lovely. Harry keeps moving along, heedless.

"Yes love, that's our errant Potter-"

Harry spins with a snarl. "I told you," he says, stepping forward to stab his wand into Charlus' chest, the threat bald, "my name is Evans. I want nothing to do with you or your family. I'm a muggleborn, for Merlin's sake."

The woman beside Charlus looks at Harry with wide grey eyes. Aside from their shade, she looks a great deal like Bellatrix LeStrange one day will. Her hair is carefully controlled, brown rather than black, and she's dressed conservatively, as is appropriate for the time period, but. She's certainly a Black.

"Are you quite sure he's yours, darling?" she near-purrs, meeting Harry's burning gaze with a fire of her own. Like recognises like. Black madness sparks in them both.

It has to be Dorea Black. Her arm is linked with Charlus', and she calls him darling. His grandmother.

He turns on his heel and flees.

Pretends the lump in his throat is from fear instead of longing.

Voldemort's yew wand twirls through his fingers as he considers the man on his knees.

Octavian Nott has always been reliable, yet...

"Are you the only one alive?"

Nott's shoulders draw tight.

"No, Vo-" Voldemort presses his magic around the proud little pureblood who dares think to say his name after he's failed. As if he's earned the privilege. "My Lord."

"And where are the others, Octavian?"

"I don't know, My Lord," Nott tells the ground. It's clear from his inflection that his teeth are gritted.

"Oh?"

"The... the vigilante put something around each of their necks. Portkeys. He said the activation phrase when I was the only one left. They... vanished."

Voldemort's methodical movements pause. The mysterious new player on the board has kidnapped his soldiers?

Well. It was an effective tactic, to be sure, but why not simply kill them? Was it weakness, or strategy?

He couldn't help but assume it was the latter. The man - and he was that from the many memory's Voldemort's stolen, though he remains cloaked - was always a move ahead. He met Voldemort's attacks each time.

It was exhilarating. Infuriating, too. The only way his every move could be so neatly countered was a spy. Yet even after he began limiting plans to his Inner Circle, the Knights, this man still knew what he would do...

"What else?" he presses, impatience growing.

"He knocked out five men with a single stunner. It... it seemed to split, my Lord, midcast. And..."

Nott truly is testing his leniency tonight. "You will not like what happens if I have need to prompt you again, Octavian."

A shudder. How positively plebian. "I apologise, My Lord. I simply do not wish to give you incorrect information."

"It just... sounded as though the portkey passphrase was in parseltongue."

Voldemort stares down at his head. Nott's been with him for a very long time. He knows what parseltongue sounds like.

Still, Voldemort must be sure.

"Look at me."

The man does speak parseltongue.

The words "fuck you" spill prettily past concealed lips.

Voldemort obsesses.

The more he learns, the more his fascination grows.

The man performs feats of magic that surprise and delight. Simple things, weaponised. Magical control the likes of which Voldemort has rarely sought to achieve. From fiendfyre, yes, but basic spellwork...

He tries to split a stunning spell. He can still only manage three branches, and they're difficult to aim.

Voldemort keeps trying.

Keeps hunting, too.

The first time he meets him on a battlefield, Voldemort shreds the spell that normally hides his vigilante. The haze cloaking features fractures.

His eyes are unforgivably green. Voldemort almost wishes he would cast the killing curse, just to see how the shade compares side by side.

Victory. He hadn't even had to fight for the other's identity. He tells himself it isn't a disappointment. He can feel the magic this man radiates. Lord Voldemort does not need to be convinced he isn't weak.

He dips his head politely, never letting his eyes stray from that brilliant shade. "Lord Voldemort," he introduces.

One beat.

Two.

Manners, he thinks mildly.

"Harry Evans," his opponent rasps out. It sounds like he hasn't talked to anybody in some time. Voldemort notes the name. Muggleborn, perhaps? Or a half-blood, like him?

Voldemort is hungry to know more. He licks his lips. Bright eyes dart to the motion, then rise back to meet his. A silly mistake. Voldemort tears into his mind.

Or, he tries to.

Blankness meets him. Not fog. Not a wall. Nothingness.

After some heavy-handed prodding, Voldemort pulls back before he is lost in the abyss.

An occlumens as well, then.

He ducks a blasting curse shot at his head.

Time to play.

Thing is, as much as Voldemort likes to play with his food, he's always been a thief at heart.

He wants to steal this man - this Harry Evans - more than he wants to break him.

He leaves with wounds his healer must tend to. They require dittany not to scar. He accepts it for the two large, arched marks. The small one, though - a knife wound, of all things - he keeps. He can rid himself of it later.

For now, though, he has something to press when he thinks of Harry.

Besides, he's not the only one to have left with marks. If Harry is smart, he will bear his well. If not... well, Lord Voldemort is generous. He can always give him more.

His men have standing orders to flee when they see him. He's still down seventeen fighters, stolen by Harry. The next time they dare to linger, he gets three more.

It's annoying to have his pawns taken. Especially because he does not know why.

Harry could ransom them to their rich families. Could try and use them as leverage over Voldemort. Could even just kill them: but he doesn't. Voldemort can tell that much from the Dark Mark. The fact he can't communicate with them or plot their locations is interesting. Unsettling, too. The magic of his mark, circumvented.

It's been a long time since he has gotten stuck on a puzzle.

He thrills at the challenge.

He next sees Harry in his human skin. The other is in Knockturn, just coming out of a shop.

How rare. He's not often spotted in public unless he's dismantling Voldemort's plans.

"Hello," he greets politely. Those green eyes slant over to him, then catch. Like he recognises Lord Voldemort even in this pitiful mask. A part of him delights at the notion, even as he double checks his magic. It remains tucked tight to his body.

"Hello," Harry breathes back.

Voldemort barely suppresses a frown. Is the other attracted to him like this? A pity. He wouldn't think Harry one to fall for a pretty face.

Still, it could prove useful... imagine what information he could pull on a date...

Green eyes trace his features intently. Voldemort is no longer used to being examined in such a way. And then-

Then Harry's magic lashes out at him without the aid of a wand, and the glamour is ripped from Voldemort's skin. He hisses in discomfort at the sensation, taking a step forward and pressing long nails to Harry's throat.

Fingers catch around his wrist before he can make contact. Somehow, Harry is strong enough to hold him in place. Strengthening rituals rendered void. Just what was this man?

The hold does nothing to stop Voldemort from stepping into him. From leaning close to his ear once they're chest to chest and hissing, low in threat, "That was rude, Harry."

The chest pressed to his moves. A laugh trembles out of Harry's throat. He sounds a touch mad. Just look what Voldemort's reduced him to...

"Sorry," he lies. "Were you doing some shopping?"

"No."

Harry hums, disbelieving. Voldemort licks his lips and stares at the neck his fingers have been denied. He wonders how much blood he can draw with a bite before Harry manages to escape.

Harry has a habit of vanishing all the marks he gives him. Such an ungrateful creature.

If given half a chance, Voldemort will bite a collar around his throat.

Harry can't breathe.

He doesn't know how it's come to this. He doesn't understand.

Voldemort's mouth is hot and urgent against his. Nails dig into his hip and back. One of Harry's hands is angling Voldemort's chin.

Voldemort lets him. Tips into his touch. Darts a tongue out to taste him.

He shivers.

Isn't he meant to be destroying Voldemort?

A wicked thought catches in his mind.

Can I destroy Voldemort like this?

Long, powerful fingers trace a burning path up his thigh.

Undo him with my touch?

He takes Voldemort in hand.

Unmake him with my mouth?

Slots teeth against his neck when Voldemort jerks. Scrapes them down when the Dark Lord shudders.

Well. It's not a plan he's thought up, before, but-

It's worth a try, isn't it?

au where auror harry potter ends up in the marauders time period, right by the beginning of voldemort’s rise.

harry potter who avoids hogwarts by all means (the memories are too painful) and instead tries to take down voldemort and his death eaters by himself.

harry who drops his last name in favor of the common muggle last name “evans” to completely separate any ties to the potters (for their sakes.)

harry evans who keeps his distance from his mom, the marauders, and snape because he knows if he sees them he’s going to ruin something.

instead, harry evans catches the attention of the potter family (who is convinced he is a long lost heir), the blacks (who start to suspect he is a new up and coming darm lord), dumbledore (who believes the same), and the dark lord himself (who is intrigued by this mysteriously strong man thwarting his every move.)

i timetravelled to when my parents were still kids to destroy the dark lord but i became his lover instead!?

[00valentina-writes00]

Can you write hcs of loser Ellie with loser reader please and thank you🙏🏼

✞⛧ Dating Loser!Ellie While Being a Loser Too ✞⛧

✞⛧ You and Ellie are the type of losers who accidentally ignore each other’s texts for days, not out of malice, but because you both get lost in your own worlds—her with her guitar, you with whatever hyperfixation you’ve picked up that week. When you finally respond, it’s always a flood of memes, random thoughts, and dramatic apologies

✞⛧ The both of you overthink everything. If Ellie takes too long to respond, you start wondering if she secretly hates you. Meanwhile, Ellie is literally staring at her phone, panicking about whether her last message was too weird.

✞⛧ Your dates are always the most awkward but endearing messes. You both show up way too early, then spend ten minutes pretending you just happened to be there already.

✞⛧ Both of you are absolutely awful at flirting. If either of you try, it’s just stuttering, bad jokes, and Ellie turning bright red before changing the subject completely.

✞⛧ You’re both socially anxious, so whenever you have to order food, you’ll nudge each other like, “You do it.” “No, you do it.” “Ellie, please, I can’t talk to the cashier.”

✞⛧ Ellie definitely does that thing where she hovers near you but doesn’t say anything, hoping you’ll start the conversation so she doesn’t have to figure out how.

✞⛧ You catch each other staring constantly but both pretend like it never happened. Ellie gets caught mid-gaze and immediately looks away like she just got burned.

✞⛧ When she gets flustered, she starts rambling and overexplaining everything, then immediately groans into her hands because why did she say that?

✞⛧ You both have the worst habit of making plans and then spending the whole day hoping the other person cancels because socializing is hard, but then you see each other and suddenly it’s the best day ever.

✞⛧ Ellie always tries to impress you with her guitar skills, but if you hype her up too much, she gets all bashful and starts pretending like she’s not internally screaming from happiness.

✞⛧ You both suck at compliments. Whenever one of you says something nice, the other just stands there awkwardly before mumbling something incoherent in response.

✞⛧ Both of you are clingy but pretend not to be. If one of you pulls away first after a hug, the other spends the rest of the day sulking.

✞⛧ Whenever Ellie zones out, you know she’s just deep in thought about something dumb, like “Could a clicker learn to ride a horse?” and she will absolutely share it with you like it’s the most profound thing ever.

✞⛧ Your inside jokes make zero sense to anyone else, and half of them started from one of you mispronouncing something stupid once.

✞⛧ Neither of you can handle eye contact for too long. If you actually lock eyes for more than five seconds, you both break out into nervous giggles.

✞⛧ You both suck at confrontation, so if you ever get into a small argument, it’s just passive-aggressive meme exchanges until one of you caves and apologizes.

✞⛧ Ellie absolutely overthinks gift-giving. If she wants to give you something, she’ll spend days debating whether it’s the right thing before awkwardly shoving it into your hands and running away.

✞⛧ When Ellie gets jealous, she swears she’s not jealous, but suddenly she’s extra clingy and definitely standing closer than usual, glaring at whoever is talking to you.

✞⛧ You both have the most chaotic but wholesome cuddling dynamic. Ellie wants to be the big spoon but ends up tangling herself around you like an anxious cat instead.

✞⛧ If either of you tries to be seductive, it just turns into immediate regret and embarrassment. Ellie once tried to call you baby in a sultry voice and immediately cringed so hard she had to leave the room.

✞⛧ You both struggle with basic romantic gestures. Holding hands? Sweaty palms. Saying “I love you”? Nervous stammering. Kissing? An awkward head bump before you finally get it right.

✞⛧ Ellie makes playlists for you but never tells you outright—it’s just one day you notice she keeps humming certain songs when you’re around.

✞⛧ The first time you kissed, it was supposed to be cute and romantic, but Ellie was so nervous she missed and kissed the corner of your mouth instead. She still cringes when she remembers it.

✞⛧ If you ever wear her hoodie, Ellie has to physically restrain herself from losing her mind. She’ll act casual, but internally, she’s malfunctioning.

✞⛧ Both of you have the most intense silent conversations with just looks alone, which confuses everyone else but makes perfect sense to you.

✞⛧ Ellie lives for forehead kisses but gets so embarrassed admitting it. The first time you kissed her forehead, she literally short-circuited.

✞⛧ If you ever send her a risky text, she immediately throws her phone away and refuses to look at it for an hour.

✞⛧ You both laugh way too hard at the dumbest jokes, to the point where people think you’re drunk when you’re just stupid in love

✞⛧ Neither of you knows how to take a compliment. Ellie once tried to accept one gracefully but ended up saying “Thanks, I found it on the ground” about her own face.

✞⛧ Ellie loves sneaking up behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist, but if you ever do it to her, she literally collapses from weakness.

✞⛧ When she sleeps over, you both pretend you’re gonna go to bed early, but it turns into hours of lying there talking about the most random, stupid things.

✞⛧ Ellie lives to fluster you. If she ever gets bold enough to tease you, it’s her greatest accomplishment, even if she gets shy immediately after.

✞⛧ If you get sick, Ellie becomes way too worried, acting like you’re on your deathbed even if it’s just a mild cold.

✞⛧ You both have this awkwardly intense tension whenever you sit too close, but neither of you knows what to do with it, so you just suffer in silence.

✞⛧ Ellie would rather die than let you think she’s bad at something, so if you challenge her at a game or task, she will overcommit, even if it’s something ridiculous.

✞⛧ If you ever send her a really heartfelt text, she immediately starts overanalyzing her response to make sure she sounds just as cool and sincere (she fails).

✞⛧ Ellie definitely has a notebook filled with little sketches of you, but she’ll never let you see it unless you wrestle it away from her.

✞⛧ Even though you’re both losers, somehow, together, it just works. Ellie might be awkward and dorky, but she’s yours, and despite all the stammering, blushing, and secondhand embarrassment—you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[hitlikehammers]

that tune without the words

“It was nice, walking through those woods, talking to you,” and the tone of his voice in admitting it makes the whole shebang another line item for Eddie’s getting-to-know-Steve file: lift this man’s standards out of the fucking gutter—but then his tone’s turning sorta wry: “Even if it was mostly about how you were impressed that I was less of a douche than advertised.” 💕

rating: t ♥️ cw: mid-S4, Vol2, steve goes back for eddie’s ‘body’, interdimensional bat venom can be a hell of an paralytic inconvenience ♥️ tags: eddie munson lives (to go on a date that’s not walking through dead hell-forests 🎉), steve harrington having a one-sided/unfiltered heart-to-heart with the cute boy who carved his probable bisexuality indelibly intonstone 💎 (no biggie), an over abundance of flirting in times of mortal peril, planning a future in an actively crumbling hellscape=(soon-to-be)couple goals, happy ending (and hopeful ending, too!)

for @steddielovemonth day two: "if you're lost, you can look and you will find me // if you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting" —Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

title credit here🪶

When they tangled with Vecna, Eddie’s body gets left behind. Sure, yes, they all know the timeline, the logistics, how the story goes. The gates seal. Supergirl goes nuclear. They kinda-half-lose. The town’s a fucking mess. They gotta lick their wounds.

But the in-between bits get hazy, see.

Specifically when Steve went AWOL and ran back, jumped through the closing gate he’d just barely managed to climb up through in the first place, given the extent of his wounds, and runs for the body they abandoned because he doesn’t leave his people behind.

And somehow in just a couple days, Eddie counted as his people. Even just his body.

The strength, the speed, the stamina to not have been stuck in the Upside Down, to not have dropped the dead weight in the way back up, to not have got suctioned in and crushed in half as the fissures crept closed: that’s the fucking stuff of legends, of parents lifting trucks off pinned children. No wonder they call Steve the mom.

But yeah. Eddie’s body’s left behind.

For like…ten minutes, max.

Then Steve fucking Harrington had to be all Steve fucking Harrington about it, say fuck that, and weigh the risk of two dead bodies as sufficient collateral to leap like it was a fucking two-for-one at Melvald’s.

Bastard made it back, too. Bloody as fuck, everything that’d healed even a little bit torn at least twice as wide in breaking back open; three extra broken bones, with at least on being a rib that there’s genuine concern over puncturing a lung with one more wrong move—and a likely one, given the evidence thus far.

And also, there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s breathing, who they don’t know until later whether Steve managed to somehow resuscitate, or if the powers that govern the hellscape zapped him back for nefarious reasons, or maybe they’d all just…fucked up and missed that Eddie wasn’t even all-dead in the first place.

Details, remember. The in-between parts got real hazy.

Eddie knew the truth form the get-go, though.

Having to witness Henderson fall apart, draped across him was maybe the most harrowing thing eddie has ever had to live through—but the point was, he did live through it. Everything was foggy, and he felt like his world was blinking too long in between knowing it was still there, like reality and his place in it were too close to sleep to be rooted, to be trusted, to be sure at all that it would last and that his shitty attempts to get any air in weren’t just painful acts of desperation to delay the inevitable.

But then there had been lips on his lips, and he’d tasted his own blood there but then more blood, other blood.

And his lungs were blissfully full for the first time in what felt like eons.

He wants to turn to find out who’s there, whose mouth had just spared him in his torment for even a few extra moments before the end, but he—

He can’t fucking move. He hadn’t realized that part before—oxygen deprivation, hell of a distraction apparently—but now that he clocks it?

That lungful of air’s gasping out fast as fuck as eddie panic because what’s happening what is happening—

What’s happening is that mouth on his again, giving him back the breath he’s foolishly wasting on panic, coupled with a too-broad hand, palm braced at his chest and fingers curled up his shoulder: firm. Steadying.

“Poison,” a voice says low, close to him enough that eddie thinks he maybe feel warmth from it but he’s not sure, he’s not sure what he does and does not feel and that’s most of the fucking terror: “in the venom. My legs were numb as fuck after, the went too deep at the core and it just fanned out, couldn’t feel a fucking thing but the pain til we got supplies.”

The hand moves fuller to his chest like it’s testing something, then the lips are back, filling up his lungs, like someone who knows how this works, who’s done it before—

A lifeguard would know. Would have done it before and…

Okay, like, Eddie didn’t spend most of every summer the past handful of years in a carefully disguised little copse of shadey trees near enough to keep the community pool in his sights because he was planning to get in the water, y’know?

“But then it felt like there wasn’t enough air when I tried to breathe deep, way worse than my legs, like from,” and he touches Eddie’s neck, then, where the bats barely got him by comparison to…other places so Eddie thinks—with the newly-restored moments of oxygen to his brain cells—Steve’s talking about his suspicious noose-shaped souvenir.

Eddie wants to be able to see, wants to see and know with all his sense that this is steve: touching him and coming back for him and saving him and—

“You’re still breathing,” and shit, it’s like Eddie’s prayers are answered without a god believed in, his fucking lucky day, because Steve’s leaning and holding still so the his cheek under Eddie’s nose, and the bow of his lips just at the corner of Eddie’s mouth, gasping out his assessment when the hint of damp the exhale gathers on his skin, all with a kind of relief that feels…too big, really. Like Eddie can’t possibly deserve that. They barely know each other.

But fuck if Eddie—who was very much banking of giving up the goddamn ghost down here just a couple minute prior, especially once everyone had left and he was just staring at the red lightning waiting to be struck down for good—but fuck if Eddie is gonna pretend he doesn’t want to deserve that care and relief, to merit and earn it for himself, specifically from Steve, especially the Steve he’s gotten to know in the last seventy-two hours. All the shit about crisis revealing a persons true nature?

Sign Eddie the fuck up for a) all of Steve Harrington and his truest true nature as well as b) the sworn duty of keeping this far too tightly wound paladin barbarian crossbreed marvel of a specimen from any more crises, and ensuring the opposite instead, maybe like, holding him close. Kissing his neck. Falling asleep in each other’s arms. More…stuff like that.

Time probably moves faster the vacuum of real actual Armageddon, so. He probably can shrug off the ‘barely know each other’ stuff.

His heart’s doing a little floppy-floppy thing with Steve’s mouth still so close; with knowing Steve’s mouth had been closer, so. Yeah. He’s sold, 100% on board. Bring him the dotted line, he’ll be Mrs. Harrington by morning.

Or…evening? It’s just fucking dark here, he doesn’t even remember what day it is.

“Too much,” and Steve’s not moving form where he’s gauging—presumably—Eddie’s breaths at the source, whispering and so, so close as he waggles his hand around; “before, but,” and Eddie gets it quick: too much commotion. To much hysteria, and more than merited, but Dustin’s sobbing? Robin’s shaking, Nancy’s armor-grip on her gun making trying to measure a pulse less than worthless and Steve…Steve has getting them the fuck out before the gates closed, Eddie remembers hearing that—which begs the question of why he’s here again bow, but one thing at a time.

The one thing Eddie wants to focus on is Steve thought to come back at all, and thought it not inpossible to find him alive and not-yet-but-still-eventually-capable-of-kicking, because the bats had numbed him to fuck, too.

And he hadn’t told anyone, Jesus fuck—this man, and giving more shirts about him already than Eddie’s maybe given for anyone, is gonna be what actually manages to put him six feet in the goddamn ground.

“I had a feeling,” Steve says, and Eddie doesn’t have to try and fail to turn to see the triumphant smirk he’s pulling, still relieved but like, vindicated now, too.

“And even if I didn’t,” he sobers quick; “I wasn’t leaving you here.” And Eddie wouldn’t stilled if he was capable of moving in the first place because…yeah, he’s basically figured he was being left here. Was pretty much solidly on his way to making his peace with it too when feet landed close to his knees and lips closed over his own and the rest is…

Is now. Where Steve Harrington doesn’t leave Eddie Munson, even as the world ends in their fucking faces and all proves to be as good as lost.

He won’t settle for them counting among the loses and that’s…

That’s just kinda…wow.

“Was really banking pretty hard on that feeling, too,” and Eddie hears Steve’s voice strain a little, even as there comes a little tiny huff of slightly manic laughter, and a rip of fabric from fuck knows where. “Want to get to know you better, Munson,” he says, tight like he’s holding up tensions, or swallowing back pain and Eddie doesn’t like that, and likes even less that he can do fuck all about it right now.

But if they’re gonna be in the business of getting to know each other better, then Eddie’s filing that sound away in the ‘keep that shit away from Steve forever’ file.

Eddie likes dealing with forevers in his head, because they so rarely work out for him in life. He craves disappointment, maybe; but.

“Walking through the woods, half-fucking paralyzed was some of the,” Steve starts, honest and earnest before Eddie catches half-a-shrug out the corner of his eye and…maybe he’s not the only one who deals in forevers in their head, and if he’s suddenly not the only one, maybe less disappointing could possibly be imminent.

Maybe.

“It was nice, talking to you,” and the tone of his voice in admitting it makes the whole shebang another thing for the getting-to-know-Steve file: lift this man’s standards out of the fucking gutter—then his tone’s turning sorta wry:

“Even if it was mostly about how you were impressed that I was less of a douche than advertised.”

Eddie wants desperately to laugh, to bump shoulders with Steve again like he did a little, tries for more when they were walking side by side, he wants so fucking bad—

Then there’s fire in his fucking throat.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve sounds more startled than concerned, where Eddie’s kinda afraid his neck is melting into lava or some shit; “yeah, yeah, baby,” and hold the fuck up, what did Steve just say, what did Steve just call him? Our of nowhere?

The lava feeling’s way less important; in fact, takes enough of a back step to make some sense with Steve’s neck words, with his hand back in Eddie’s chest to brace his shoulder:

“You’re coming back, just keep,” he’d tries to laugh, and the sound had gotten lost on Eddie in the agony but it hadn’t been lost in Steve, his baby, holy fucking shit—

“Oh.”

Steve’s tone is something entirely new; awed a little, floored a little, not bad, so that’s a plus, but…overwhelmed like at the edges but then fucking ecstatic in the middle, which down here shouldn’t even be possible, until his hand pressed a little harder into Eddie’s ribs on the less mangled side and—

“Strong enough to feel, now, even when I still can’t feel everything,” Steve’s face swims, gorgeous and kinda like an answer to the universe in the minimal view space Eddie has to work with as he slowly crawls back online, a process not actually being helped by Eddie putting together what’s causing Steve’s reaction—the way his heart’s pumping’s growing a little undeniable even on his own end, and Steve’s hand feeling the raw effects of Steve on Eddie’s body right now isn’t helping matters at-fucking-all, but also Eddie never wants that touch to leave him ever fucking again, ever.

It’s a delicate sort of contradiction.

“Shit, yeah,” and Steve’s laughing, and it’s a soft joy-tinged thing less than the manic hysteria thus far.

Eddie’s fucking toast, man. No hope for him now.

“Strong enough even if I’m kinda fucking shaking,” Steve holds out his hand that, yeah, is in fact a little trembly but hey.

Eddie can’t feel shit yet too good, but he’s almost certain he’s got to be no better. Blood in his veins certainly ain’t winning any awards for steadiness.

And Steve leans down, this time back with another one of those vaguely hysterical laughs and Eddie can’t see everything outside of the angle his head’s held at just now, and the whole problem really starts with how he can’t feel a lot of shit á la bat venom, but.

If Eddie had any money, he’d actually wager that Steve fucking Harrington. Just touched his lips to Eddie’s neck, just kissed where his pulse would kick between his collarbones. And, true or not, the possibility of that?

Holy fucking shit.

“I hope these aren’t too tight,” Eddie sees the motion from Steve’s shoulder, feels…or thinks he feels the lightest ghost of pressure at his fucked up side: tight. The tearing from before; Steve had been wrapping his sorry ass up.

Talk about Eddie’s goddamn knight in shining armor, Jesus fuck.

“Pretty sure it came down to the fact that their poison hit me like it did because of where they got me the worse, and that’s what made me hope in the first place, you know. Your worst bleeders are in the meat,” and yeah, Eddie really does think that’s real sensation for the soft press of Steve’s hand at his flank, not say nothing of the burning flush to his cheeks, blood’s moving just fine there.

“Fucking deep but not so close to the bloodstream, to pump around and make it worse,” and he touches Eddie’s neck again, and ah: that was why Steve had the reaction he did, mainline to the ticker to get it all swum around. “More of it in you, obviously, because there were more of them, more teeth, but not up here,” and fuck Steve Harrington for the way his hand brushes Eddie’s neck almost tender-like, just…fuck him; “no a direct fucking line to the source.”

Yes. Fuck him. Preferably soon and with Eddie at full sensation and on a horizontal surface that’s not bloodsoaked and vaguely reeking of rot.

Just, y’know. If anyone’s taking note of preferences.

“Thank god for it,” Steve breathes out, the air fluttering over Eddie’s face and he can feel it and he wants to cry, he wants to jump up and dance; can’t do that year but his pulse makes a damn good attempt.

“But yeah, anyway, just walking through hell with you was,” Steve shifts back to the part where he’d seemed to be extolling the virtues of apocalyptic flirting, but before Eddie can file it away to do so much better in whatever’s to come? Steve’s slotting his fingers between Eddie’s own; he can’t feel the whole of it, but he damn well feels enough to know the way they fit is perfect, like they were cut form the same clay millennia ago.

Of course Eddie’s heart goes flippy-floppy again; it fucking has to.

“Not the part about Nance so much, though.”

And Eddie thinks he frowns because…oh.

Oh right, yeah, he really hasn’t had a glimmer of hope in hell that what kinda feels like is happening right now was even on the goddamn table, so…maybe he had tried to funnel his sense of pure and unadulterated loss into at east giving the boy he wanted, what < i >that boy wanted.

Whoops.

Won’t be making that mistake ever again, though, at least. Lesson learned, loud and clear.

“That’s been and gone, man,” steve sighs, a if Eddie needs more convincing. “And I don’t want to go back to where I left it. I want to love someone, who loves me.”

It feels heavy and vulnerable, but all Eddie wants to do is shot me, it can be me, let me have the adventure of learning how to love every bit of you better than you ever thought to even hope after pretty fucking please with a goddamn cherry on top—

“So she’s,” Steve huffs, definitive-like: “out of the picture. She could maybe learn to be that, but, and Steve moves, the most intentionally he’s done it so far to look Eddie straight in the eye when he wraps up the point:

“I’m not interested enough to wait.”

Which means it’s no fucking coincidence, that eye-contact, and Eddie’s ping-ponging pulse for it is 100% prevent valid and then some.

“And I know can’t talk right now, so I get this isn’t really,” Steve sucks his teeth in a genuinely unbearably adorable way; “fair, or probably even like, wholly ethical,” and Eddie’s only been around for days but that sounds like Robin right there, and the feeling of a dangerous pull near his cheek makes him think the urge to smile wasn’t wholly ignored by his beat to shit body, fucking progress.

“So think of it just like a,” he hums, then snaps his fingers as he lands on: “suggestion! A suggestion. Like me, just, putting it out there, which I usually do before anyone feels the same way anyway so this is just like, variation on the theme, but,” and Steve’s eyes are so big, Eddie’s never seen them looks this way before while Steve tips his whole face so Eddie can watch before he can sit up or turn his neck, must be fucking painful but he doesn’t even flinch, and Eddie’s only ever just kinda fallen for the puppy droop of those gorgeous eyes. Now they’re all, big and wide and bright and breathless and holy shit, Eddie’s really is just so screwedbest thing ever.

“I want to take you to dinner, a movie.”

Okay, hold up. That idea, said out loud and meant and directed to him: that might be the best thing ever.

“Maybe a drive in so no one will see if you let me hold your hand, or put my arm around you, or start necking with you halfway through,” like that isn’t making Eddie wonder if he just can’t feel the hard on every piece of him is very convinced he has to have right now, if his body can actually pony up just yet.

“If you want, of course. We could go slow,” and it’s like Steve’s thought about it, like this isn’t just adrenaline and near-death and zero impulse control. It’s most like he…like he actually wants. “Just a movie, even like at my house. Or yours. After they,” Steve clears his throat, the only part he’s even hinted awkwardness in; “after they take care of that.”

Ah. Right. Eddie probably does now have a trailer anymore.

Weird how little he’s caring about that at the moment.

“I could cook, I’m not bad at it,” Steve’s ploughing in with secret knowledge because: Harrington. Apron. Sauce on his cheek. KO-fucking punch to the heart, no survivors.

“Takeout’s fine too, I’d get whatever you wanted,” he pivots before trialing of, chewing his bottom lip then saying a little softer:

“But I would look up recipes too, practice to learn your favorite foods.”

And maybe Eddie really was never supposed to survive the Upside Down. He just maybe completely misinterpreted the way he was gonna fuckin’ die .

“I’d kiss you at the door if that’s okay, if that’s not to far,” then Steve’s bit-sparkle eyes darken even in the hell-dim around them; “or take you to bed if you wanted, but only as much as you were sure.”

And y’known how Eddie’s heat’s been flippy-flopping?

What it starts doing then leave that schoolgirl shit to dhame.

“I want to date you, basically,” and Steve’s shoulders are all squared up, like he’s making a pitch that has any chance of failing, and Eddie does have some working knowing of the past failures…thing, but he genuinely believes those fuckers have been at least partially brain dead to leave a man like this free for the taking, by Eddie of all fucking people.

“I want to try, and see if we can be something,” and the way he says those words, it’s…it’s like a soft perfect flame in Eddie’s chest, the first thing he thinks he can feel again fucking perfectly right,

“‘Cause fuck Eddie, I’ve been looking for something for what feels like forever, and the only thing I keep coming back to for any of it is thinking about you, and ain’t that a plot twist, the deepening of the idea that any of this stretched last what started in that fucking boathouse. “Had a whole-ass sexual awakening over you when you started shepherding my kids, can’t let that go to waste, man.”

And holy shit, dude. Eddie can’t leave him hanging on that confession no matter how mostly-carefree his smile stretches. Because Steve’s been in it since last fall?

Well, Eddie’s not one to easily be outdone.

“What?” Steve squints at Eddie’s face which…okay. He probably looks absurd but he’s trying really hard here, and miming isn’t easy when your muscles don’t want to get on board, yeah?

“Are you,” Steve scrunches his nose; tips his head; considers; “are you trying to,” he frowns, like he’s ready to dismiss what he’s guessing but then says fuck it and leaps:

“Are you trying to whistle?”

Yes, oh my god, sign him up for his marriage license for real, they’re meant to fucking be.

It takes Steve a second to make sense of the absurdity, and the fact that it’s only a second is a feat in itself:

“When I was a lifeguard?”

Eddie watches the timeframe, the length of admittedly varying types and depths but always constant infatuation, start to sink in and then:

“Jesus, Munson, for real?”

And lips are coming for his lips, and he’s real hopeful he can feel them this time but: no. Not yet.

But they fill his lungs up quick and full where he’s getting better which breathing by the minute, but. Any but if a boost is appreciated.

Especially from those lips, felt fully yet or not.

“That’s just because I’m gonna lift you up here in a second to crry you, and it’s gonna hurt like fuck no matter how gentle I try to be,” Steve warns him; “so breathe as slow as you can until I can lay you back down topside.”

Right. Right, because…the Upside Down was breaking apart and they’ve been here how long, fuck, they need to get a mov on…probably.

But Steve doesn’t seem concerned about anything but getting his arms around Eddie to pick him up just right, and then staring at him all star-bright bbsome more, and that’s…way more pressing, to be honest.

“But when we get there,” Steve glances behind him; “how about we look into doing that in a way that’s more spit-swapping, less rescue breathing, that cool?”

And holy fucking shit, Eddie genuinely believes right now that he could fall in love with this motherfucker, what the actual hell.

That, and he thinks he’s gonna enjoy it, to boot.

Jesus H. Christ on a goddamn cracker—

He’s looking forward to it more than the air in his fucking lungs could even hope to rank.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here

[imhappierthanever]

hiii I was wondering if u could do a fic where Billie hates reader then Billie finds out that reader has an abusive boyfriend at a party by one of readers friends and Billie and readers boyfriend get into a fight ( because Billie actually cares about reader ) at his house and reader walks in and the boyfriend ends up hitting reader , the ending is yourssss !! (Also I don’t know if this makes much sense .. )

hi bb! Hope this is what you wanted!

heartbreaks & earthquakes

Another weekend, another party you didn’t want to be at. Your boyfriend was throwing another party which meant he would be drinking and you would end up being at the other end of his anger. 

You locked yourself in the bathroom, looking in the mirror at the new reminder of how much you needed to leave him.  A fresh new mark on your face that you couldn’t hide very well. You gently ran your fingers over it, wincing slightly at the pain before searching through your purse to find something to make it seem a little less obvious. 

You could just tell someone you ran into something if they asked you thought to yourself as you put some makeup over it, and made your way back to the party, passing Billie along the way. You noticed she was talking with one of your friends. Though you couldn’t imagine what they must have been talking about. You didn’t know Billie very well. You always thought she kinda hated you, so you never took the time to really get to know her. 

When your friend noticed your sad expression, she excused herself from Billie and joined you on the balcony. 

“So, what did he do this time?” Your friend asked. Knowing he was always up to something.

“It’s nothing!” You said shying away, trying to hide the bruise further with your hair. She lifted your head, eying your rather shit cover up job, and tear stained face. “You know, he can’t keep doing this to you. One day he’s really going to hurt you! I’m not trying to tell you what to do, I just want to help you. Make sure you’re okay. You deserve better than this.” Your friend said seriously, hoping that this time you would actually leave him. But before you could even respond, shouting from two familiar voices filled a nearby space. 

“Oh shit!” Your friend said. “I may have told Billie that your boyfriend is a complete ass!” “You did what?” You shouted racing off to go find them. Not sure what was to come of it. But you knew enough to know if Billie got involved, your boyfriend didn’t stand a good chance.

Once you found them, they were in the middle of a heated argument about you. You couldn’t understand seeing as how you had become your boyfriend’s punching bag, and Billie? She just didn’t like you or care. 

You stepped in the middle of them, pushing them both apart. “Stop it you two!” You said continuing to stand in the middle of them both. “Gonna let your girlfriend fight for you? Even after all the shit you put her through?” Billie spat, trying to move you out of the way. 

“She’s my girlfriend. And that means I can do whatever I want, anytime I want” he said wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “We’re fine,Billie. Really we are. You can go back to the party. Thank you for wanting to help.” 

You gave her a weak smile before she took one last look at both of you, heading for the door. But before she could even leave fully, she heard the sound of his fist hitting your face. Billie froze, taking in the moment before she walked back over to your boyfriend returning the favour. She knocked him to the ground, leaving him spitting up blood. 

“You’re never putting your hands on her again. And if you even try, you’ll have me to deal with. Got it?” She said ever so seriously. Her voice had lowered, eyes darkened. That beautiful blue turning icy. You realised you knew her even less in this moment, but also you didn’t care as you felt her hand slip into yours, leading you away from your boyfriend and back to the bathroom where you felt like you were spending most of the party. 

“Hop up on the counter pretty girl.” Billie said, shutting the door behind you, standing in between your legs. Her face was dangerously close to yours as she examined the damage. 

Wait..did she just call you-

She broke your thoughts when her ring clad fingers held your chin softly to get a better look. “Looks like he got you pretty good. “ she said looking at your eye, knowing it would be bruised in a matter of hours. 

“Billie.” You ask, questioning her actions. “Why did you do that? Why did you stand up for me out there?” You asked wincing from both the old pain and new mixing together. She didn’t answer you as she rummaged through the medicine cabinet finding an ice pack and placing it over your eye.

“You’ve never cared before. What’s changed?” You asked feeling strange as you let her take care of you.  “And now I’m pretty to you? You’re so fu-“

Before you could finish, she lifted your chin and placed her lips softly on yours, kissing you so sweetly, so tenderly you couldn’t believe it was actually happening. 

When she pulled away, your eyes were still closed, taking in the moment, hearing her speak finally.

“I’ve always had feelings for you. But you’ve always been with someone else. Always a guy. I just never thought I had a chance. So I tried to act like I didn’t care. But I do. And when I heard what he was doing to you, and saw for myself I couldn’t let him keep don’t that to you. You deserve so much better. You deserve to be with someone who appreciates you and cares. Someone who would be happy to call you their own.” 

You couldn’t believe she was saying this. And to you. Your head was swimming, confusion consuming your every thought as her eyes returned to that beautiful ocean blue. Could you ever see yourself being with Billie? You didn’t know. But as she cared for you, tending to your eye and staying with you to make sure you felt safe, you felt your heart swell at the kindness she was showing you. 

You could give her a chance, couldn’t you? You thought as she lead you away from the party, leaving the loud music, sweaty bodies and him behind. She helped you into her car and drove you home. Still making sure you felt okay enough to be on your own. 

You both stood on your porch. Billie rocked back and forth on her feet, her hands in her pockets as she nervously began to speak again.

“I can um.. come in with you. Make sure you’re alright.” She said meting your gaze. She really was quite beautiful you thought to yourself as you cupped her face with one of your hands, pulling her in for a kiss. 

“I would like that. And maybe just maybe you could stay too?” You said smiling softly, secretly hoping she wouldn’t turn you down. Ans she didn’t. She nodded shyly, letting you grab her hand and lead you inside. 

Truthfully you didn’t know what was between you. You didn’t even know if it had been a good idea. But you both knew what ever kind of relationship you and your boyfriend once had, it was over new. Billie was your new beginning and the possibilities of being with her seemed endless as you shut the door behind you, welcoming her into your space and into your heart. 

[babybeeelle]

Hiii, long time no see. I was writing a different story, but I wasn't satisfied in the direction it was going so this just spouted from my brain. This was based off a request, but I'm dramatic so I amplified it :)

Summary - When Agatha's grief causes her to lash out at the reader, she hurts them deeply.

Warnings - Agatha needs therapy, mention of self-harm scars, near-death experiences, and detailed? suicide attempt.

Word count : 4400+

a/n - Very important Warnings. The is a very detailed fic. Please please please read them and make a safe decision to continue reading💖

What's Said and Done

You didn't intend for your reminiscing of Nicky to trigger Agatha the way it did. You had hoped that maybe the decades upon decades spent grieving together created a safe space to talk about the short, but treasured time you all had with Nicky. You craved to fill the hole his death left with the precious memories that had filled your heart with joy. You wanted that for Agatha. You wanted to mend the corrupted memory of him. He deserved to be cherished.

It was obvious now Agatha couldn't. You knew that unadulterated grief that was entangled into her loving soul very well. You thought her forgiving Rio, inviting her back into her heart after two centuries, meant that she was in a stage of grief where she would want to talk about him.

You had so many memories of Nicky etched into your heart, moments that glowed like a lighthouse in the violent weather of grief.

The day he first came into your lives, his tiny hands were gripping tightly to your fingers as Agatha held him, and his wide, curious eyes darted around the unfamiliar space in the bedroom of the little cottage you shared.

Rio had been cautious at first. Viewing his birth from the door frame, knowing she was going to be the one who would lead him to the afterlife before he could truly live.

Yes, she created him, but she also knew the possible complications of creating a precious life unnaturally. But when Agatha looked at her, tears brimming in her eyes as she nodded her head, she could see Agatha was thankful for giving her the time he deserved. To Rio, the pain would be worth it.

Anyone could tell Nicholas was made from Rio. The resemblance was uncanny as he grew older. His facial structure mirrored hers perfectly, from his sharp jawline to the delicate angles of his cheekbones. His eyes a warm chocolate, filled with mischief, were identical to hers. Even down to the smile lines that shined so brightly with his perfect smile. He truly was a mirror image.

There were the little everyday moments that had became everything.

Rio kneeling in the backyard, dirt smudged on her cheek as she pressed her hands to the soil, coaxing life from the earth. Nicky crouched beside her, his tiny fingers buried in the dirt, eyes wide with awe as delicate petals bloomed before him. Every time a new bloom appeared, he’d clap his hands and turn to Agatha with Rio's smile.

Then there were the nights Agatha loved most. She would sit on the edge of his bed, her hands glowing with a soft purple light as galaxies lit across his bedroom ceiling. Stars twinkled, planets drifted in slow, mesmerizing orbits, casting his room in a cosmic glow. Nicky’s small hands would reach up, tracing constellations only he could see, his laughter light and full of wonder.

It was all the things Agatha didn't want to remember.

Her shoulders stiffened while she was putting away laundry. “Why?” Agatha asked finally, her voice low and clipped.

You frowned, caught off guard by her tone. Feeling the sudden change in energy, you began to rub your scarred arm, a self-soothing habit you picked up when you began to feel on edge. “Why what?”

“Why do you have to bring him up?” she said, halting the chores. She turned to face you as you stood beside her. Her eyes were trained on yours, unwilling to break eye contact. “Do you think that helps? Reliving every little memory like it’s going to bring him back?”

The words stung, but you took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay calm. “I don’t bring him up to hurt you, Agatha. I just... I miss him. I thought maybe we could talk about the good times, try to focus on—”

“On what?” Agatha snapped, her voice rising. “On how he was never ours to keep him? How we couldn't heal him? On how everything we tried wasn’t enough?” She slammed her hand on the dresser in agitation causing you to jump, eyes-widened as your breath was caught in your throat from surprise. “Because that’s all I see when I think of him.”

Your heart clenched as you watched her unravel, the grief in her voice morphing into anger. “It wasn’t your fault, Agatha,” you said quietly reaching out for her hand. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head as she avoided your touch, crossing her arms defensively. “Of course you’d say that. You always have to be the understanding one, don’t you? Always so composed, so...forgiving”

Her words hit like a slap, but she was being unfair. “You’re not the only one who lost him, Agatha. I lost him too. And Rio—”

“Don’t,” Agatha interrupted, her voice cutting through the room. “Don’t you dare bring her into this.”

The tension between you thickened as your shared grief and unresolved pain collided.

“Why not?” you challenged, ready to defend. “She loved him too. We all did. And maybe it’s hard for you to see, but she’s been trying, Agatha. She’s been trying to make things right with you.”

Agatha's lips curling into a bitter smile. “Trying?” she repeated mockingly. “Trying to what? Pretend like everything’s fine? Pretend like she didn’t—”

“Like she didn’t what?” you demanded as you cut her off, beginning to believe she had never truly forgiven Rio. “Say it, Agatha. Whatever it is you’ve been holding in, just say it.”

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her body trembling with fury. “Like she didn't take him from us. He’s gone, and all you can do is sit there and talk about him like that’s going to fix anything.”

You stared at her, a silent conformation of your theory. "It wasn't her fault and you know it. He was our boy too," you whispered in defeat. You weren't sure if she had even heard you. But her response showed you she did.

"It wasn't her fault?"

But before you could respond, she delivered the blow that shattered your soul.

“He was never your son,” she said, her voice sharp as she looked at you like you were nothing to her. “Not you. Not Rio's. He was my son. I'm the only one that did anything and everything to keep him alive, and here you are defending Rio like you always do,” she spat out with a sneering expression.

The words hit you hard. You felt physically sick. Your breathing was shallow like Agatha's words were constricting your lungs.

“No,” You protested, your voice breaking. Your eyebrows scrunched as your eyes shone with tears, searching Agatha’s face, desperate for any sign that the woman you loved hadn’t truly meant those words. “You don’t mean that."

Agatha’s expression hardened leveling down to look you straight in the eyes. “I mean it from the bottom of my heart,” she seethed, annunciating every word. “God, I can’t even look at you. It's pathetic. You have no right to be crying right now.” Pushing past you, she walked to the door like your very presence disgusted her.

You staggered back a step, clutching the edge of the dresser to steady yourself. Your tears fell freely now.

“Where are you going?” You asked, your voice thick from crying, inadvertently pleading for her to stay.

“Anywhere but here,” Agatha bit without looking back.

With that, she stormed out, her footsteps echoing down the stairs. The back door slammed shut moments later, leaving the house in a suffocating silence.

Letting the dam crumble, you clasped your chest, trying to ease the ache that felt like it was tearing you apart from the inside.

Your legs seemed to move on their own, carrying you to the bathroom in a haze.

As you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the reflection staring back at you felt foreign, like someone you barely recognized. You searched your own face for something, anything, that might explain why you weren’t enough. Why Agatha couldn’t bear to look at you.

"How could anyone love you?" that dark, familiar voice in the back of your mind whispered. It had been gone for a while, but it has returned making its mission to demolish all the progress you've made.

You gripped the edge of the sink so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. Agatha's words echoed endlessly.

"He was never your son." "Not you. Not Rio. He was mine."

The venom in her voice, the disgust in her eyes—how could she say something like that? How could she not see how much you loved him, how you would've given everything if it meant saving him?

You couldn't wrap your head around it. She couldn't actually think that of you, right?

The intrusive thoughts came in waves, each one dragging you deeper into despair.

"She doesn’t want you anymore. She'd be better off without you. Rio too." You squeezed your eyes shut, as though it could stop the endless spiral.

The thought of Rio did it for you. Rio’s face flickered into your mind. Her eyes, usually filled with warmth, was devoid of any love for you. She's death, literally. She is a cosmic being, and you are so...ordinary. You didn't have a sharp, captivating aura like Agatha who demanded anyone and everyone's attention the second she walks into a room.

Your love wasn't worth all the pain. You weren't worth all the pain. You're a burden to them.

The weight of those thoughts pressed down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. You needed both of them. There was already a piece of your heart missing, but Agatha and Rio kept your heart from crumbling. You wouldn't survive that pain again.

You glanced down at the sink, where droplets of water had leaked from the faucet. For a moment, you began to visualize your arm as the faucet, slowly leaking blood.

Your gaze shifted back to the mirror. The self-hatred hit you like a tidal wave. How could they love you? Agatha’s words weren’t just anger—they were confirmation of your deepest and darkest fears. That they didn't need you the way you needed them.

The familiar ache in your chest morphed into a dangerous mission. You opened the drawer beneath the sink, your trembling hands rummaging through its contents until they found what they were looking for. You hesitated for a moment, pausing as you were unsure if this is what you wanted. You had been so good, so happy. Then you remembered what your reality had shifted to.

It was a little purple jewelry box. It once held the ring on your finger from a day you'd never forget. A vow of a love that would be everlasting. But as you opened the box and found the blade hidden within, none of that mattered anymore.

Freeing it from the packaging, you noticed it still had the same sharpness from the last time you used it, and the glint made your stomach twist in anticipation.

The blade felt cool and familiar in your hand as you slowly sank into the cold, empty tub, the icy surface sending a chill down your spine. You hesitated again, gripping it tightly, the thoughts racing through your mind almost convincing you to stop. But one reason kept you convinced: you were doing this for them. This way, you could take the burden of yourself off their shoulders. You were doing them a favor.

With a shaky exhale, you glided the blade lightly across the center of your arm, testing the waters. The first cut was a shallow line that only allowed little bubbles of blood to come to the surface, but the sting grounded you nonetheless.

With more urgency, you pressed down harder, carving another line into your skin. Blood welled up, slowly making its way down your arm like a raindrop rolling down a window.

Taking a deep breath in, you moved the blade down to your wrist where you knew the blood would really flow. As you exhaled, face scrunched, you swiped quick and deep, finally getting to the point where you knew you did damage.

But it wasn’t enough. You craved balance, symmetry. You mirrored the cuts on your other arm, your movements growing more frantic, wanting you're relief to come faster. The tears flowed in rhythm with your blood, causing a hysterical laugh to escape from your throat.

Your vision swam as exhaustion began to set in, your body growing heavy. The pain that had once felt grounding now dulled, your consciousness blurred. It never really dawned on you who would be coming soon.

On cue, a familiar presence filled the room. The usual warmth was now an unwelcoming cold. Her usually composed demeanor was gone, replaced by wide-eyed panic as she took in the scene before her.

“No, no, no, no,” Rio panicked, her voice raw and breaking as she kneeled beside the tub. Her hands were trembling as they hovered over your wounds.

“You can’t do this to me. I won't do it. I refuse to take you,” she cried out in anguish as tears streamed down her face, denying her duty as Death, denying the natural order.

Her hands glowed a faint green as she pressed her palms to your arms. A tingling warmth spread through the cuts, knitting the torn flesh back together. She murmured soft reassurances under her breath, though they were as much for herself as they were for you. Her power wasn’t meant for this, for preventing death, but she gave freely of herself, pouring every ounce of her strength into pulling you back from the edge. The strain showed in her creased forehead, but she fought against it because her heart depended on it.

When the bleeding finally stopped, Rio sagged back on her heels, her hands trembling as the adrenaline drained from her body. Her breath came in uneven gasps, her pulse pounding in her ears. She stared at you, her vision blurring with a mixture of relief and pain.

Carefully, as though you might shatter at the slightest touch, she reached out and gathered you into her arms. Your body was limp against her, your head lolling weakly onto her shoulder. She could feel the shallow rise and fall of your chest—too faint, too fragile—but you were breathing. That was enough.

She pressed a trembling kiss against your temple, her lips barely grazing your skin as she carried you from the bathroom. Each step was slow, deliberate, as though she feared moving too quickly would send you slipping away from her again.

By the time she laid you down on the bed, the world around you was a hazy blur, shifting in and out of focus. The weight beneath you felt unfamiliar—softer than the cold tub, warmer than the tile floor. A distant pressure tugged at your limbs, grounding you, but your thoughts drifted in a fog. Sounds came muffled, like you were underwater.

Rio’s voice, low and strained, broke through the haze. You couldn't make out the words, only the shape of them, the warmth in them. Then she was gone, footsteps fading, leaving you adrift in the silence.

A moment later, something soft slipped over your head. The scent of lavender and something faintly smoky curled into your nose, stirring something deep in your chest. A trembling breath left your lips, the familiarity of it pulling you back, dragging you closer to the surface of awareness.

Your lip quivered. A whimper—barely more than a breath—escaped before you even realized it. The sweater clung to your skin, warm and safe, and for the first time since your body hit the tile, the numbness began to crack.

“What is it?” Rio asked urgently, cupping your face with her hands, searching your face for any signs of pain or discomfort. “What’s wrong?”

Tears welled in your eyes, spilling over as you whispered, still dazed, “She doesn’t want us anymore.”

Rio froze, her heart dropping at the words and the hopelessness in your voice.

She cupped your face, her thumbs brushing away the tears that continued to fall while she forced herself to stay calm, to steady her voice. “That’s not true,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “Agatha loves you. She loves us. She’s just... hurting.”

You shook your head weakly, your gaze unfocused, lost in the thick fog of exhaustion and heartbreak. "She said it. She said... he wasn't ours, only hers. She doesn't want us.” Your voice cracked, breaking on the last sentence. “She doesn’t want us.” Your words grew softer, fading into incoherent murmurs as exhaustion pulled you under.

Seeing you like this brought bile up. Your pain was making her physically nauseous. Rio’s arms wrapped around you tightly, as though sheer force alone could keep you from slipping away again. “She’s lost in her grief,” she said softly, resting her chin on top of your head. “She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t.”

But your eyes were already fluttering closed, exhaustion and despair pulling you into an empty, restless sleep. As your breathing evened out, Rio stayed by your side, her hand resting on yours.

For a long moment, she simply sat there, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

She wanted to believe Agatha hadn’t meant it, that the words had been spat out in grief and anger, not truth. But seeing you like this—weak, barely conscious, drowning in the pain Agatha had inflicted—made it impossible to excuse.

“She’s lost in her grief. She didn't mean it," Rio murmured again, this time to herself.

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

The argument replayed in Agatha’s mind as she sat on the bench, viewing the garden Rio created centuries ago as the cool night air brushing against her skin. Her fingers pressed against her temple, rubbing slow, desperate circles as if she could knead away the headache forming beneath her skull.

She took a swig from the half-empty beer bottle, the taste flat and useless to distract her from the ache in her chest. Her words had been cruel, sharp-edged daggers thrown in anger. "He was never your son. Not you, not Rio. He was my son." The memory of your devastated expression was seared into her mind.

She’d meant it in the moment. Or at least, she’d convinced herself she did. Grief over Nicky had festered into something raw and ugly, and in her anguish, she had taken it out on you—the person who had only ever tried to love her through her faults. Your love was pure.

While Nicky had inherited little of your features, what you had given him was more personal than any resemblance. Your ability to love someone regardless of their past and all the terrible things they've done is one of a kind. Agatha was sure there was no one who could ever grace this world the way you did. That was what made you stronger than any power she or Rio could ever possess.

But that purity was suffocating. It was too much like his. It was like he had never left. And yet, he was gone.

That was the worst part. Every time she looked at you, at Rio, it was a reminder of what she had lost. Of what she could never get back.

It wasn’t fair that you and Rio were still here with her when he wasn’t. It wasn’t fair that you kept loving her, even after all the ways she pushed you away. It wasn’t fair that you could carry on, bearing his memory with softness, while she was drowning in the weight of it.

Maybe that was why she lashed out. Because she hated that you were proof love could survive grief. And she hated herself even more for resenting you for it.

But now, in the openness of the garden, regret gnawed at her, eating her alive. She wished she could take it back, wished she could go back in time to undo the pain she’d caused. She hated herself for how easily the words had slipped out, sharp and unforgiving. It was a defense second nature to her. It was as unstoppable as her magic siphoning. It relented before she could remember that the people she lashed out at were the ones she loved most.

The sound of the back door slamming and heavy footsteps jolted her from her thoughts.

Agatha shot to her feet, as she carelessly discarded the bottle she had been nursing. She turned sharply, her heart hammering against her ribs as Rio strode toward her. The guilt and sorrow clung to Agatha like a shadow, but Rio wasn’t here to acknowledge her pain. This wasn’t about her.

She didn’t speak at first, only stood before Agatha, her entire body trembling with a rage barely containable as she tried to formulate her words carefully. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths, her fists curling so tightly at her sides that her knuckles went white.

Agatha froze. The half-empty bottle hung uselessly at her side, momentarily forgotten. Her gaze flickered toward Rio, taking in the rigid set of her shoulders, the barely restrained fury rolling off of her in waves. Then Agatha saw it—dark stains smeared across Rio’s hands, stark against her skin. The realization hit her like ice water.

Your blood.

Her stomach twisted violently. She felt the breath hitch in her throat as her gaze snapped back to Rio’s face. The rage was still there, burning bright, but beneath it—buried just deep enough to go unnoticed by anyone else—was fear.

“You know what you’ve caused?” Rio’s voice was low and deadly, trembling with restrained rage.

Agatha swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “I—”

Rio cut Agatha off before she could try to explain. “Do you know what Y/N tried to do because of you?” The words were spit through clenched teeth, but her voice cracked on your name.

“What... what-” she stammered. Once again, getting cut off.

“She thought you didn’t want her anymore. That you didn’t want us anymore.” Rio’s composure shattered, her breath coming in ragged bursts. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to find the love of our lives bleeding out in that tub? Because of you? Because you let your grief fester into something that poisoned her?”

Rio’s hands trembled as she dragged them through her hair, her breath coming in sharp, angry heaves. Then, suddenly, as if overwhelmed by the weight of it all, she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes and let out a harsh, shuddering breath.

Agatha couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Her vision swam, your face flashing in her mind—not the way she had last seen it, but the way it looked utterly lifeless

Tears welled in her eyes, her hands trembling as she clutched at the edge of the bench for support. “I... I didn’t know,” she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.

Rio dropped her hands, her gaze snapping to Agatha with something close to disbelief. Then she laughed, humorless and bitter. “You didn’t know?” she echoed, voice raw. “How could you not know, Agatha? Don’t give me that pathetic reasoning, Agatha. You know her more than you know yourself. You know how deeply she feels everything. Love. Pain. And now she thinks you hate her.”

Agatha’s tears spilled over, her chest heaving with the weight of her guilt. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just... I didn’t know how to deal with it. I didn’t know how to-.”

Rio’s expression softened for a fleeting moment, the raw pain in Agatha’s panic stirring something deep within her. But she quickly steeled herself, unwilling to let sympathy distract her from the truth.

"You need to fix this." Her words were quiet. Firm. And final.

Agatha blinked through the blur of tears. She hadn't felt this type of fear since Nicky.

“If you’ve ever loved her, if you’ve ever loved us, then you’ll make this right,” Rio said filled with tiredness and desperation. “Because if you don’t, you’ll lose us both.”

Agatha’s breath hitched.

Rio’s words hung in the air like a heavy, suffocating fog. Without waiting for a response, she turned and strode back inside, the door swinging shut behind her with a thud.

She had been so consumed by her own grief that she hadn’t realized she had become the very thing she had feared, the thing that had broken you.

Agatha stood there in stunned silence, her mind reeling. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed into the dirt of the garden, her fingers dug into the soil as though it could somehow anchor her to the ground. The weight of Rio’s words crashed over her like a tidal wave, and for the first time, the full gravity of her actions hit her.

Her guilt twisted like a knife in her gut. Her sobs were quiet at first, but soon they grew louder, wracking her body with the force of hardened grief. Her pain pulsed around her, a sickness that spread without forgiveness. Her gaze darted around, watching in anguish as the pink azaleas she had once tended with such care now wilting, their petals curling in on themselves as if recoiling from her presence. The energy emanating from her twisted the life around her, black veins creeping up the stems, the poison of her emotions seeping into the earth.

Just like she had seeped into you. It was a silent parallel of how she had poisoned you.

The thought made her sick.

She had always known that her anger and pain had pushed you and Rio away, but she hadn’t realized just how far it had gone until now. The fear that she might lose both you and Rio, it was too much to bear. And for the first time, the full weight of her actions hit her, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She didn’t know how to fix it, how to undo the damage she’d done. But she knew one thing for certain: if she didn’t try, she would lose you both. And that was a price she couldn’t afford to pay.

[catiuskaa]

HEURES D’ABSENCE.

come to bed (study me instead).

sum. felix knows you have to study, but… he smells so nice too… ok, hear me out… what if, instead, he helps you... review your research material?

wc: 4.3k

cw: sun & moon metaphors, felix is so down bad, minsung is mentioned, they’re so silly, sir kink? (not explored), kisses, kisses, kisses, oral (m.rec), soft yet unprotected piv sex (don’t!), and that’s all, folks!

scent. (♡) the perfume saga.

[🔹★💤 ★🔹]

The Sun is the star at the center of the Solar System. It is a massive, nearly perfect sphere of hot plasma, heated to incandescence by nuclear fusion reactions in its core, radiating the energy from its surface mainly as visible light and infrared radiation with 10% at ultraviolet energies. It is by far the most important source of energy for life on Earth. The Sun has been an object of veneration in many cultures. It has been a central subject for astronomical research since antiquity.

It's kind of an obvious statement, I know, but Felix resembles it quite well, with a couple of exceptions. You know for a fact that he too is by far your most important source of energy for life on Earth. Still, even if Felix can’t help but giggle every time you compare him to the massive star —reason why now his friends call him Sunny, too— he doesn’t feel like he can compare.

He hopes he never gets heated to incandescence. He isn’t sure if any culture venerates him, but he’s quite sure to say that the chances are quite low. He also hopes no one calls him a ‘yellow dwarf.’ But ultimately, he knows he isn’t that massive star that the Earth orbits around because, if he were, he’d probably have a bright, nuclear solution to his silly recent troubles.

But Felix groans. He isn’t as observant as he’d like to be. Moreover, when he does eventually see it, somehow it is always a bit too late.

Hogging the blankets and hugging a pillow, he sinks his head into it again. He’s been turning in bed for what feels like hours because he can’t help but notice it now. He can’t help but wonder how it could escalate to such an extent right under his nose.

Felix blinks, sleepy, but not quite enough to fall asleep.

But hogging the blankets isn’t his thing. He feels hot, so he pushes the bedsheets off of him, just for his arms to feel cold, to which he mumbles a curse and grabs the blanket again. This is bugging him. A lot. Like, sure, it was happening under his nose, but his nose wasn’t even that big. It keeps going for a while: hot, cold, hot, cold.

It’s unfair, or so he feels. It’s gotta be, he grimaces, as he covers himself top to bottom with the stupid blanket, and sticks his foot out. Weirdly, that scares him, so he groans and finally surrenders.

Ladies and gents, it only took Felix a week to figure out and acknowledge: it’s getting harder to sleep without you by his side. The excuse his body gives him is another, however, so he rises from his bed and heads out.

If you hear the faint sounds the wood makes with each of his steps as he goes from his room to the kitchen, he does not know. Felix just stares at your room’s door in your shared apartment, and there’s not even a shy move. Nothing what-so-ever. Not even the slightest gust of wind that moves it.

Felix sighs, the hair in his arms spiky as he opens the fridge and a shiver rushes while he grabs a bottle of water, chugging it as if the answer to his troubles is at the end. Somehow, he never reaches it. He swallows, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling the cold remnants of it quickly fade away down his throat.

That refreshes him, but the light from the fridge killed every ounce of sleepiness in his eyes. He leans his elbows on the kitchen counter, passing his hands through his hair.

It’s a struggle for him, and maybe he comes to terms with it just because it’s late at night for him. Because this is as pathetic as it sounds: you have been locked up in your room on a day-to-day basis because of your exams, and even if Felix understands, cooks you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and checks on you when it’s late just to move your sleepy body from your desk to your bed, not seeing you aside from that is getting harder and harder.

Mhhm. Damn right. Pathetic, he knows. His roommate Minho—a poor guy stuck living in a flat with a lovey-dovey couple— had laughed one day so hard that they kicked them both out of the university’s library.

“I mean, sure I might miss Jisung like that whenever he has exams, but if I lived with him?” Minho scoffs as they both get out of the library. He feels bad for the blond boy though, so he sighs, patting his back. “Maybe you guys should talk this out, Sunny. C’mon, let’s get some hot coffee.”

Minho was in Jisung's apartment tonight, so Felix couldn’t go and bother him as he usually did. The only light in the flat was the one that escapes from the underside of your door. Like a moth, he gets closer, surrendering again. He sighs as he steps towards your room. Only then, he stops.

He doesn’t want to bother you. It may sound like a stupid excuse that he makes for himself, but ultimately it’s the only truth he knows. However, he grins, thinking that chances are you’ve probably fallen asleep on the desk again, your room smelling like paper, ink, and noodles. He can lie to himself and say that he was only going to tuck you into bed like usual. And so, taking the doorknob in his hand, and breathes out before opening it.

…until, well. You’re not asleep.

The Moon is Earth's only natural satellite. It orbits at an average distance of 384,400 km (238,900 mi), about 30 times the diameter of Earth. Tidal forces between Earth and the Moon have synchronized the Moon's orbital period (lunar month) with its rotation period (lunar day) at 29.5 Earth days, causing the same side of the Moon to always face Earth. The Moon's gravitational pull is the main driver of Earth's tides.

Maybe that is why as soon as the door is open, his heart dances in his chest. Maybe your gravitational pull is insignificant compared to that of the actual grey satellite, but Felix doesn’t have it in him to care when all he wants is to melt by your side. ‘You’re awake,’ he wants to say, but he shrugs it off. That’s a stupid sentence, even for him to say at three am. It is a fact that you barely sleep and that only worsens during exams week.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t let himself dwell on how not creative his mind turns out to be in the worst moments, not while your eyes hold his. It’s then when he sees through the midst of tired, sleepy confusion in the colour of your eyes that the hours of absence, of longing, of craving, crash against you almost as strongly as they crash against him. The sun and the moon on a collision course—fiery and untouchable, yet destined to shatter the sky when they finally meet.

There are no words —no other worlds: a star, and a satellite— as he stares at you, as you sit on the floor, against the edge of your bed, your room a mess and your desk a battleground that, by the looks of it, Felix can’t help but think you’re not having the upper hand in this war you’re fighting against piles of printed put PDFs. You want to stand up and hug him as if you haven’t seen him in months, but you don’t know your right foot from your left, your mind baffled and your heart swooning as soon as the dim light of your desk lets you see some of his darkest freckles, even as far away as he stands.

And somehow, he understands, meeting you halfway. Maybe he doesn’t, but you don’t have it in you to give a damn. Not when he’s back at your side.

It’d be foolish if he tried it right away, and maybe it’s because he knows you so well, but you appreciate that he doesn’t immediately urge you to go back to bed. Felix wouldn’t know if you had been in bed to begin with, but nevertheless, he sits with you against it, the only sound in the room being the ruffle the bedsheets make as he pulls at them to settle them back on the bed, and the sound of your computer’s fan, setting the mood just right.

You would’ve made that joke out loud, but you don’t have the energy. Not when all of your remaining energy goes to pay attention to the very much welcomed presence next to you, when he cradles your face with the palm of his hand, and every bit of hopelessness of your coloured eyes hits him, unrestrained.

“My misty moon.”

It’s a whisper, one that makes your heart sink. You missed that silly nickname so much, and it’s almost ridiculous –you have seen him during the week, but still, it doesn’t feel the same.

His arm slithers its way to your waist, scooching himself closer to you. You blink, noticing your eyes are teary.

Misty, ha. So funny.

Maybe you missed him that much, because it cracks a smile out of you. You don’t dare to doubt that you did. Maybe it’s because you’re stressed because of all the sheer amount of work you still have left to do —just the thought of it makes the room spin.

He hugs you tighter. Felix doesn’t know what to do. He pulls you closer. No, closer. His soft hands move to your thigh and pick you up, sitting you on his lap. He’s never seen you look so fragile.

It was silly. It was you who had asked him to let you be while exams lasted, because you concentrated better alone. The environment chaotic, sure, because you hadn’t had a dinner before two am that wasn’t noodles in like, a week,  but still, even when you were roommates, he knew better than to approach you during exams. You had always made it clear: you just worked like that. He didn’t get it, but he also knows he’d do whatever you need. It hurt his soft little heart to see you push yourself so hard, but in the end, it always paid off.

But you had been missing him so much. So, so, so much you almost were convinced it couldn’t be normal. That you shouldn’t be. You had barely been together for a year, even if you had lived as roommates for longer. Was that even allowed? To miss someone so vividly when they are in the room next to you?

His chest feels warm against you. Oh, you missed him. Your chest gnaws at the feeling, your own heart hating you —despising you, even— from keeping it away from the warmth of this sun for so long —a little over a week— because, how could you be so cruel, your heart whines, teary and all smiley now.

You nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck, and he chuckles softly.

“You’re tickling me, moonmuffin.”

His- his voice? His laugh? Surely he’s got to be trying to murder you in cold blood and cuddles. What else could he be attempting when he feels so soft and so warm and so kissable and so… Felix.

“You smell nice,” you mumble instead, excusing yourself as you attempt to break each and every law of physics you may or may not remember as you move and fail to get even closer to him.

“What?” he giggles again, his hands traveling to thread your hair.

His fingers through your scalp feel so nice you sigh and melt against him. You agree with your heart: how dare you take this away for a week? You should be imprisoned and sentenced to mandatory cuddles for the rest of your life. Yeah. Life-sentence cuddles. You brush your nose slightly over his collarbone. You’re lucky you even remember what you had been saying.

“Not my fault. You smell nice.”

You should peach the idea. Life sentence cuddles for not having cuddles before. For attempting to even succeed in not having cuddles for a week. That? That’s fucking crazy.

“Mooncakes. How about we get you to bed, mmh?”

Maybe two life sentences. ‘Damn. You’re really sleep deprived’, a voice in your head tells you, but you ignore it, loving the thought of cuddles and Felix for life. Wait, no, even better: Felix’s cuddles for life. That way you didn’t need to worry about not having two lives. You could just cuddle. With Felix.

Meanwhile, Felix doesn’t even struggle when his hand passes behind your knees and holds your back, carefully standing up and getting you in bed, and quickly reaching for the blanket to tuck you in.

“What are you mumbling about,” he smiles, stroking your cheek.

His touch feels softer than all the blankets in your apartment combined. Like cotton and clouds, soft, mushy, effervescent. A-blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of deal. Which is a very big deal, because there is no way in hell Felix even tries to leave. You have been sentenced to cuddles for life, and the law is the law.

“Oh no, mister,” you blink, smiling softly. “You don’t get to leave now.”

His eyes are like crescent moons while you look at him as if he was crazy. As if the mere thought of him trying to leave was mindboggling, along with downright impossible. Fat chance you were going to let him go past that door tonight. Or ever, your heart snickers, rubbing hands like birdman, almost menacingly.

“The bed is cold,” he teases.

“Warm it up, Sunny.”

Your reply comes faster than he anticipated despite how sleepy you look, and Felix can’t help but smile. He missed how that nickname sounded in your voice, even if it was layered below sleepiness. “Smartass,” he grins, but he tries to keep his promise. Just in case. He wouldn’t want you to be pissed off at him in the morning. “You should sleep.”

“Haha. As if.”

Your hands travel and link behind his head, keeping him an inch from your face. You’re making this too hard for poor, weak, little Felix, but he bites his lip. His voice turns even softer, a whisper against your lips.

“But I’ll just keep you awake.”

Your eyes trail down to his lips, and he’s so close to losing it. “Somehow I still don’t see the issue,” you mumble.

His nose strokes yours as he can’t help but giggle. “You’re so gonna get all moony about it tomorrow.”

“What does that even mean,” you scrunch your nose, much to his amusement.

Felix just laughs, shaking his head sheepishly.

“We should sleep.”

“Right.”

“You’ll be mad at me if you feel tired tomorrow.”

Now that makes you giggle, letting out a sound much like a lie detector would. A strange meeh that, had he not been as tired as he was, Felix would’ve rolled his eyes at.

“Wrong.”

He sighs, the smile on his face not faltering for a millisecond. “You’re making this too hard.”

You blink at him innocently, and Felix indulges again. Maybe because it’s late, but honestly, his mind is too tired to make up an excuse as to why he lowers his head and kisses your temple.

He hears how your breath hitches, and that makes him as giddy as the first time.

“You know, I read something off the pages on the floor last night,” Felix chuckles, stroking your nose with his as you blink and blush.

“Oh?” You smile, cheekily interested.

“Oh,” he teases you. “So, philosophy major, what’s all that with kisses and their meanings?”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, the thought of taking the spare pillow on your bed and hitting him with it getting tempting.

Felix’s hands play with the ends of your hair as it rests against the pillow below your head, a mindless action that he only stops to cradle your face and press against your cheeks teasingly.

“My cute fluffy moon. A philosophy romantic.”

“Enough,” you whine, laughing. His heart does a little dance every time he gets a chuckle out of you, and this time, a win is a win. “Fine, I’ll tell you about it.”

“You know, I’m actually a visual learner?”

Felix bites his tongue when your eyebrows raise. Even he knew that was fairly smooth, which is only acknowledged when you roll your eyes.

“So, technicalities aside, because I refuse to tell the intro again or even read it within the next ten hours,” you state, making him laugh as you continue talking, “the human species has many types of kissing. And all of them have different underlining meanings.”

The look in his brown eyes remains expecting, however, so it seems that short explanation won’t do to make the suddenly-turned Professor Felix happy. Or so he makes it seem, by how he fakes pushing non-existent glasses further the bridge of his nose.

“That seems like an interesting research,” he starts, pushing the non-existent glasses again. “I see,” he snorts, because it’s late, it’s a lame joke, and he’s trying to get you to give him the kisses he’s been missing all week —and he may be close to getting some, which he celebrates silently.

“Any examples, perchance?”

And just why the hell would you refuse?

“Of course, sir,” it’s just because of his formal tone, but something in the air shifts. Maybe just the dust that gets bored and changes direction in the air, but Felix’s eyes also do something you can’t quite place. But your mind goes up to the files, seeing if you understand the topic you are researching.

“How about we do it this way— you say a body part, and I tell you its meaning?”

Oh, fuck yeah. Felix can’t believe he’s getting it this easily. He could die right now, filled with the cheeky malice of getting a plan executed successfully, but he ain’t dying without those kisses.

He ponders carefully but decides to start easy. “A kiss on the cheek?”

As your hands softly move to cradle his face, the feeling of your soft lips against his skin, soft soft soft, so soft he can’t think of a better adjective to describe it nor another by any chance, the gentle and tender press of your kiss triggers the butterflies that linger around in his system ever since he’d started liking you.

“Depending on the culture, a kiss on the cheek indicates affection or tries to portray a sense of welcoming,” you state in a calming voice filled with sleepiness that’s slowly starting to wear off.

“Forehead.” Felix grins, feeling his cheeks heat up when your hands move his head so you can reach from where you are lying down underneath him and shortly peck him.

“A deep wish for protection, with underlying affection. A way to express one’s desire for the other’s well-being.”

“I uh… may be running out of ideas,” Felix chuckles sheepishly. But please don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop. Ever.

He shuts up his heart as you start speaking. “I’ll take the microphone from here, then,” you laugh.

And Felix smiles widely as he starts being pampered to death in the form of kisses. A kiss on his earlobe, “to provoke arousal.” A kiss on his hands, “to greet with respect.” A tiny peck on his nose,  “to express care.” A slightly longer kiss on his lips, “love,” you continue as you smile at him.

Had he been standing, Felix would’ve swooned by now. He doesn’t know how his arms haven’t surrendered and finally refused to hold his weight over you, but there he remains, over you, legs tangled underneath the bedsheets, with the only light in the room —your desk light— lighting not only his face, but also his eyes as they shine brighter after every kiss.

“Now, as you so obviously know, as a thorough expert in the matter,” you joke, happy to make him laugh, “other, different kisses may share meaning with these.”

“I see. Go on, then.”

It only takes another “Of course, sir,” and there it goes again. The tension in the room spikes up, like the hair in your arms whenever you look at the mess your room is in during exams.

But you’re having fun. And you smile. “A kiss on the lips indicates love, as I stated prior,” you snicker, kissing him on the lips again, maybe to make a point, maybe because after all these kisses he’s starting to taste like the most delicious thing you could take to your mouth.

Blame the tension for that, your heart grins at you, pushing you from behind to keep going. And there you go.

“There’s also what is called French kissing.” You swear you can see the exact moment where your desk light rats him out, allowing you to see how his pupils darken when instead of lifting your head to reach him, you finally link your arms behind his head and pull him down towards you, kissing him on the lips again, deeply this time, nibbling on his lips and taking advantage of the moment he smiles to slide your tongue in.

Felix isn’t just on cloud nine. He’s on cloud nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine. He’s never been so high in the sky, and even if it is currently past midnight, had he been the actual, real Sun, not only would he be shining as much as he is now, but also make tomorrow the day with the clearest blue skies.

None of you can tell who is it that starts deepening the kiss. None of you can tell who’s the first that starts panting and gasping while both his and your hands start to map the other’s body, as if they’ve lost something and were sure the other one had it hidden somewhere.

You, however, are sure that there’s no such thing as a good night kiss anymore, because, with Felix’s knee between your thighs and his tongue in your mouth, you’re so not going to allow this alluring man who you’ve been dreaming about since the exams week started to leave you just like that.

To hell with tomorrow’s exam.

Felix, the poor boy, can’t read your mind. Maybe that’s why he gasps so heavily he lets out a moan when you roll him to his back and kiss him again before he can catch his breath. Maybe it's why he keeps letting out moans when he notices you smiling as you kiss him, your hands trailing up below his shirt.

“T-that tickles,” he smiles, panting, as your fingers trail faintly over his skin, making him feel goosebumps.

It doesn’t tickle anymore when it’s your lips that follow his happy trail, down, down, down. He takes off his shirt as if it’s burning, and if he’s honest with himself, he can’t think of a time when he has wanted this as desperately as he does now.

There’s no doubt in his mind that in your darkened eyes the same thought lingers on your head, while they stare deeply into his own, almost in a way capturing his soul, the sensation as effervescent yet not as pleasurable as the one that travels from his dick to his whole body as your hand closes around it. God, if Felix loves that sensation. He was so drunk once that he remembers thinking that if he could marry it, he probably would’ve. Somewhere in Las Vegas, too.

His head falls limp against the pillows with a thud, his hand threading into your hair as pretty little moans leave past his lips, following the sticky sweet sounds your mouth starts to make as you attempt to take him in, hollowing your cheeks and leaving your hand at the base to make up for what you can’t fit.

“F-fuck, baby, that’s so good…” he lets out over and over,” so good, baby, so good,” he almost mewls, “missed you s’much, fuck…”

He lets out a groan as he moves your head away, because he could bet money that he was a beat way from bursting, and he wouldn’t lose. Even then, losing the opportunity to fuck you for all the times he sighed pathetically this week, missing you when you were just next door, is much, much worse.

Felix’s soft hands travel, stroking every square inch of surface he can at a time, passing your thighs, your stretch marks and your hip dips —ones he has been a devout worshiper for God knows how long, dedicating entire nights (and days, if it had been only for him) to the both of them— bending to press soft kisses from your tummy up to your cleavage, his hands playing with your nipples just to hear your whines as he helps you lean your back down softly on the bed.

Felix whispers soft and tender nothings in your ear, mixed with silly sentences just because he’s missed having you below him so stupidly, stupidly because you’ve missed him just as much. He too kisses you everywhere after he slides in, only because he’s pretty sure that if he starts moving right away, he might not last as long as he wants.

Your cheek, your forehead, your temple, on the palm of your hand before linking his fingers with it, on your nose just so he can smile at you when you scrunch it.

“Sunny, don’t tease,” you pout cutely, moving your hips.

Finally, Felix giggles as he dives for your lips deeply. And when he kisses you, you smile, reeling in the feeling of his lips against your lips.

A solar eclipse.

[🔹★💤 ★🔹]

~kats, who’s genuinely tweaking bc why do i feel like this wouldn’t work if i hadn’t sneaked astronomical stuff in it?

catiuskaa, february 2025 ©

I AM??? SO SORRY?? I HAVEN'T POSTED IN?? SO LONG?? MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR??? LIKE ??'?'?'?' I MISSED SO MUCH??

[peanutpinet]

Im really loving your sylus x innocent mc stories!! I was wondering what if Innocent Mc is sick or gotten hurt while Sylus is in the middle of a business deal, and when he finds out, he immediately leaves to go take care of mc. 🥺💖

Healer - Sylus x Sick Innocent Fem Reader

A/N: hi anon, thank you for being patient!! I have a lil something for you and for everyone especially with the 3.0 update! I won't spill anything so I hope you all enjoy reading this little fic and thank you for reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest and credit goes to the image's respective owners.

Warnings: threatening, blood

If Sylus could just kill everyone in the room and be done for the day, he would. But unfortunately, there was nothing that was reasonable enough to do so.

Luke and Kieran told him about “highly” businessman that wanted to make a deal regarding the protocores Sylus had. Saying that he’s willing to invest in the business that Sylus had going around if he were to be given a fraction of Sylus’ protocore collection. Of course, Sylus knew what this man specifically wanted. As much as he wants this to end quickly to get to you, Sylus loves to make his victims pretend that they got the upper hand before he turn the tables.

But the more this meeting drags on, Sylus realised something. You didn’t text him at all today. You just told him that you had to go into town for some errands but that was at 8am while it was already 5pm and there had been none information regarding you for the past 9 hours which is unheard of throughout your relationship with Sylus since the beginning.

Though Sylus already sent the twins and mephisto to look for you, he was still restless. Sylus tries to think of all other more “reasonable” scenarios. Maybe you forgot to bring your charger and your phone died in the middle of the die. Maybe you were at a friend’s place and you left your phone on do not disturb or perhaps…

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a bad feeling when he heard the twins chatter loudly when he was at the end of the hall in the meeting room.

Without thinking, Sylus bolted out of the meeting room, immediately telling the business partner he’ll rearrange another meeting. When his business partner was threatening him, Sylus didn’t hesitate to point his gun at them. “Accept my offer to reschedule while I’m being sane unless you want me to expose all of your dirty little secrets to the world? I’m sure with how the taxes to everything increasing, it’s going to be hard to get the materials you need without my help”

Luckily, his business partner held both his hands up in defeat, making Sylus smirked. “Wise decision”. Sylus signalled his other men to handle his business partner and his men while he went to see what happened to you.

Sylus knew that no matter what, Luke and Kieran would always bring you back to your shared bedroom. It was practically a sacred place for the both of you. A safe haven, a place where the two of you can be yourself, took care one another, and spend time to be with each other.

Sylus felt the walk down the hall back to his shared bedroom felt further than usual. Halfway through the hallways, Mephisto perched itself on Sylus’ shoulder, cawing at its owner as if it was trying to give Sylus a heads up.

However, before Mephisto could show Sylus anything, the door to his shared room with you was opened and it revealed Luke and Kieran who looked worried despite the masks they wore. “Boss…” the twins let out a soft sigh of relief seeing Sylus came “Care to fill me in on what happened?” Sylus questioned his two most trusted men, knowing that these twins care for you just as much as he did (Sylus definitely still cared for you the most)

“There was blood, boss” Kieran started and it already send chills throughout Sylus’ body. “Yeah. We didn’t know how it happened. When you told us to find the miss, we didn’t expect there’d be blood” Luke added on

“She also started moving in a dizzy way” Kieran pointed out “She almost fainted when we brought her back. We don’t know how to help stop the bleeding” Luke added on more and by now Sylus couldn’t take it and barged into the room, leaving the twins in the hallway

“Sweetie?!” Sylus called out to you and hearing your groan, he immediately went to the bed, seeing you bundled under layers of bed covers and blanket “It hurts sy…” you whimpered and Sylus didn’t waste time to get into bed and pulled you to him. “Tell me what happened, where does it hurt? How much blood did you lose?”

Sylus gently stroke your head, kissing your forehead and allowing you to snuggled closer to his large body. “J-just, just like every other month”

It was then Sylus realised what actually happened and immediately checked his phone. Noticing the reminder, Sylus let out an annoyed sigh “Those twins…they almost made me pull my heart out”

“Sy…” you mumbled and Sylus snapped back at your weaken self

“I know sweetie. I know. You lay back down yeah? I’ll have the chef immediately cook you some warm soup and I’ll bring painkillers” Sylus gently laid you back, pulling up the layers of blanket to keep you warm, kissing your forehead again

“Are you angry?” you managed to asked despite your weak state

“You had me worried a bit but I can never be angry at you, sweetie. What happened to your phone though?” Sylus asked

“I forgot to charge it last night and was only 15% left when I went out. M’sorry” you mumbled, trying to sleep while Sylus shook his head, caressing your cheek

“I understand sweetie. You were out of it since last night. I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I’ll help make sure that your phone is always charged but for now, you try to rest a bit more while I get you some warm soup and painkillers along with your favorite sweets then I’ll cuddle you until you’re better”

Sylus placed one last gentle kiss on your forehead before leaving the room to get the things he said he would get.

“So?! Did you manage to stop the bleeding boss?” Luke asked

“If he looked calmer now, everything must be okay with the miss, right?” Kieran asked as well

Sylus stopped in his tracks before giving the twins a side glare. “You two, my office now. Once I’m back, I’ll make sure the two of you are educated and understand the human anatomy of a woman and her struggles of bleeding every single month”

The twins had never seen their boss looked so serious and menacing towards them which meant they had made a grave mistake. “W-what do you mean boss?” the twins asked as Sylus turned around, his aether core was practically glowing a crimson red colour. “She was on her damn period yet the two of you made it sound like she was bleeding to death! I swear if any of you give me this kind of heart attack again, I’ll have to start cutting your allowances”

The twins rushed to Sylus’ office in fear and started to look up about period, educating themselves everything about it while Sylus took care of you. It’s safe to say that by the next crack of dawn, the twins would understand more about periods and how they could help you if it happened again when Sylus wasn’t around.

A/N: yup, was about periods LMAO