#i might do something along these lines later on myself

[seth-shitposts]

an idea i'm throwing out there for anyone lmao

I'm working on another one-shot atm but i was just thinking and I dont think i've seen something along these lines anywhere? (but if there is a fic or something of this that already exists, i'm begging yall to please throw it my way, i need this in my life)

So we all know how in s1 of rebels with the Lando episode, Kanan and Ezra were being very jealous about Calrissian flirting with Hera and Sabine (and Zeb was very entertained by this). And I would just find it funny if there were something like that, maybe between s3&4, of Lando shamelessly flirting with Kallus (and now both Kanan and Ezra poke fun at Zeb's jealousy). And Zeb gets quite upset over it.

I need this and i need it a thousand different ways please-

[rainyvandragon]

Oh those precious memories~

See I could tell myself that it's okay that I'm writing this because I am a catholic woman but let's be real those things just aren't true any more. So instead I am going to claim this as an emotional craving because of that time of the month. Definitely nothing along the lines of 10 year revival of my fanfiction writing phase. And it's totally, in no way related to any issues I might have. Totally sane, I tell you.

! 18+ Minors do not interact, I am NOT a fckn daycare!

Yandere! Hazbin Hotel x GN! Reader

Content warning: obsessive behaviour, stalking, slight NSFW (more in some parts then others), just a bunch of red flags and things that I do not condone irl

Charlie:

Honestly Charlie might be the most sane of the bunch in this regard

She isn't to interested in stealing anything from you, that is just not something she would be comfortable with – in general but especially with her Darling

However she doesn't mind keeping things that you let her borrow

It doesn't even matter what

You gave her a hair tie because one of hers broke? She'll cherish it forever

It was raining on a day she had to go out and you suggested she could use your umbrella? Pretty much hers now

Of course the greatest thing for her would be you lending her some of your clothes

She would most likely spend the next nights cuddling up to it in bed

Oh the frustration when the fabric no longer smells like you but rather her!

Yeah sure, she can give you your things back. She just forgot them in her room, oops! Don't worry she'll get them later

Unless she forgets again...

Vaggie:

She would never take anything you truly need or value

In all seriousness, Vaggie could never stand the idea of inconveniencing her Darling

However unlike Charlie she is just not close enough with you (yet) to count on you giving things to her

So instead she uses the position she has in the Hotel

There was a movie night with everybody invited?

Well somehow ever since the clean up the blanket you were cuddled up in is gone. Oh well, Vaggie will just get a new one, they weren't that expensive to begin with anyway (and if she is fast enough with it nobody is even going to notice anything)

Sadly those lucky occasions that allow her to grab some reminders of your shared time don't come around to often

And Vaggie respects you and herself to much to steal from you or go through your garbage bin

Thankfully she has the patience to wait for those windows of opportunity

And hey, since everything went relatively smoothly this week why not suggest another movie night to Charlie? Everyone involved seemed to enjoy it anyway – so there really is no harm done, right?

Angel:

Anybody who immediately thought of Angel stealing his Darling's underwear needs to take a cold shower!

Now don't get me wrong – he has thought about it

He does have a relatively high drive and desire for intimacy and sex

So sure the idea of taking something rather personal from you did cross his mind

But deep down Anthony just is a little sweetheart and he just couldn't take something like your underwear or other intimate items from you without any sort of consent

As for other, less private things

It doesn't matter if Angel and you have the same of different sizes – he WILL steal your clothes and wear them

If you wear make-up or nail polish he will definitely “borrow” things – especially lipstick

Now if his Darling is somebody who likes to keep a lot of pillows or plushies in bed he is definitely not shy about taking things from that pile either. Although, depending on how well Darling keeps track of those things, he might only borrow them for a night or two – maybe rotating between some, making sure to leave them under the bed upon returning so it looks like it just fell off the mattress

Alastor:

Now Alastor is already rather torn apart when he first noticed his desire for your belongings

He never once though about stealing from you...until you forgot something in the lobby – a book, notebook, pen, whatever it was – it was just lying there on the table next to the couches

Ever the gentleman he obviously wanted to return it to you but something inside of him fought against the very idea of it. This might be the closet he gets to having you (at least for now), his Darling

As his obsession towards you continues to grow some of his past life's interests stir awake inside of him

One day whilst helping out you cut yourself on some damaged bit of furniture. Alastor is immediately there to offer you a handkerchief to stop the bleeding – a handkerchief that quickly becomes one of his most prised possessions

If his Darling has a period he might steal some...used goods

However in comparison to some of the others, he is a lot less hungry for souvenirs

Although that is really just because, unlike them, he can use his shadows to be around you whenever and as close as he pleases

Husk:

Husk would never just go into his Darling's room to steal things from them – even if the idea sounds lovely

No instead he just checks for things you leave behind

Now his job at the hotel really helps him with that

You almost exclusively talk at the bar (“Redemption Based Group Exercises” being the only real exception)

At this point he has a rather large collection of napkins that you used or doodled on

Sometimes they disgust him but then he looks at them, the little doodles (even just to test a pen) you left on some of them, all those marks of you (bonus points for lipstick stained napkins) and he just can't

The guilty feelings are even worse with a tissue you once cried it. It's just to close of a reminder of you to throw away!

Anything small that you forget at or close to the bar gets saved by him – pens, small pieces of paper, hair ties, buttons from your clothes, whatever really. If it's small and unimportant enough for you to not really miss it he is going to keep it

Nifty:

Nifty is easily the worst of them all

She is small, fast, obsession driven and the hotel's maid on top of that

What matters most to her is how close to your body her little mementos are (it's pretty much the same way in wish the catholic church determines the value of a saint's relic)

Nifty will most definitely collect hair out of your brush

Or rummage through your garbage bins

Now if somebody is going to steal used period products!

She just really doesn't value her Darling's privacy in the slightest so she has no issues going through every little crevice of your room to look for some “hidden treasures”

Although her favourite thing to do is sleep in your used bedsheets

She is going to wash them – don't worry! Simply just not without first sleeping in them herself for a bit

---------------------------------------------------------

Welp this is the first time in a long while that I've actually written fanfiction so I got those emotions to sort through I guess.

English is not my first language however given how arrogant I can be regarding my skills this should be well enough written. Prove reading was done by Open Office's spell checking system and my high ass.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Can I request headcanons for Remy, Logan, and Wade would think walking in on his female s/o please?

Sure! Here are headcanons for how Remy (Gambit), Logan (Wolverine), and Wade (Deadpool) might react if they walked in on their female significant other in an unexpected or intimate situation:

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

-Remy’s first instinct would be to flash his trademark grin. He’s all about playful banter, so he’d likely make a smooth, flirtatious comment, something along the lines of, “Chère, if I knew you were waitin' for me like this, I’d have come home sooner.”

- Despite his flirtatious nature, Remy respects boundaries. If he realizes you’re uncomfortable, he’d quickly shift his tone, turning away and offering an apology. “Didn’t mean to intrude, love. I’ll let you get back to it.”

- Even after giving you privacy, Remy can’t help but throw one last cheeky glance over his shoulder as he walks away, his mind already crafting plans to sweep you off your feet later.

Logan (Wolverine)

- Logan is a man of few words, so his first reaction would be a gruff, “Sorry,” as he immediately averts his eyes and steps back to give you space.

- Though he might act nonchalant, Logan’s protective nature kicks in instantly. He’d stay close by, ensuring you’re okay without being overbearing. “Didn’t mean to startle you, darlin’. Need anything?”

- Logan might not say much, but his actions would speak volumes. He’d likely do something small but meaningful afterward, like bringing you your favorite drink or setting up a relaxing evening, showing that he cares without making a big fuss.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

- Wade’s immediate reaction would be dramatic, making a joke out of the situation. “Well, helloooo nurse! Is it my birthday, or did I just win the girlfriend lottery?”

-Expect Wade to break the tension with humor, making wild and silly comments to make you laugh. “Is this the part where we start the romantic music, or do you need a minute to prepare your award acceptance speech?”

- Despite the jokes, Wade is always in tune with how you feel. If he senses even a hint of discomfort, he’d drop the act and get serious, giving you a quick out. “Seriously, though, you okay, babe? I can make myself scarce if you need some ‘you’ time.”

[mabelstone]

Common Tongue

hozier x f!reader

part five of lullabies <3 | part four | masterlist

cw: 18+, oral sex, a lot of this is sex ok u should know me by now, the word 'balls', not much plot tbh

word count: 4.1k

taglist: @princezty @somethinglikero @jimihendrixpopfigure @the-imperfectgirl-blog @l1nd3n @yunonaneko xo

I woke in the delicious warmth of Andrew’s arms, his soft breaths against my neck sending a chill down my spine. I gently nuzzled into his touch, his arms autonomously holding me tighter. For the next week and a half, this was my morning routine. Also part of the morning routine was the part where I would slip out of his grip as gently as possible when I was on the verge of weeing myself.

I’d slip back into bed, entranced by the way sleep drenched breaths swam through the small parting of his lips. The way his muddy greens danced under his eyelids as he dreamt, and the way his thick lashes swept along his high cheekbones made it near impossible for me to look away.

We danced around the fine line of being lovers, friends, and fuck buddies, not even entertaining the thought of defining what we were. I knew it was all probably moving too fast considering I’d just gotten out of a relationship. Not that I really cared - Andy had a way of numbing me. Numbing the heartbreak in a way that I didn’t even have to acknowledge it. He made me feel happy and sexy and loved, if that’s what you’d call it.

Like he could feel it, he’d wake to me watching him, causing me to blush profusely and apologise. He’d either pull me in and kiss my neck and forehead, or remind me with a grin, “staring is rude, y’know,” in his deep, groggy morning voice. It was rare to catch him watching me sleep as I was the early riser of the two of us. But during the day, I’d swear I was his favourite sight. Maybe that was just wishful thinking.

This past week also consisted of numerous phone calls to Andy, all from producers begging to sign him to their labels. I was so ecstatic for him, but of course, he was overtly humble as always. After doing his research and attending a few meetings, he decided to go with Rubyworks.

“Andy!” I threw myself into his arms excitedly, squeezing him so hard, I thought he might implode. “I’m so proud of you… we have to celebrate!”

“I’dunno, baby…” he sighed, raking his hands through the back of my hair while I melted into his touch. “This all might blow up in my face yet.”

“Don’t talk rubbish!” I scolded him, peeling my face away with my arms still around him so he could see me frown. “And you deserve to be celebrated. And we have no plans for dinner. Please?”

“Because you’ve twisted my arm,” he gave in, bending down slightly to capture my lips in his. As if I had any control at this point, I autonomously kissed him back, a squeak leaving me when he effortlessly picked me up and sat me on his kitchen island.

He deepened the kiss, one of his hands squeezing my thigh, the other tangled in my hair. I sighed against him, my hands skating across his abdomen. His tongue slipped into my mouth, forcing me to swallow a grunt of his. Both of his hands now slipped up my thighs, stopping just at the crease of my hip with a firm squeeze.

“You’d better stop,” he warned, pupils blown.

“Or what?” I teased, hands now gripping his biceps. Fuck dinner. I’ll give him something better to eat.

“You’ll see later,” he promised with a kiss to my temple, sliding his hands off me. “Let’s get ready now, or it’ll be impossible to drag me out of this house.”

“Fine,” I sighed in faux disappointment, hopping off the table and dragging him behind me by his hand.

I put on my favourite dress; a flowy black number with a corset like top that did me lots of favours in the breast department. I wore some simple three inch heels, sheer black stockings, and a faux leather coat. My hair was slicked back into a wavy ponytail, complimented by some chunky gold jewellery to break up all the darks I had on. I wore Andrew's favourite perfume of mine, Jimmy Choo's Eau De Parfum. I'd always had an illustrious love for fashion, but oftentimes Joe had an issue with my style. Not Andy, though. His jaw just about hit the floor and he looked as if he were close to calling off our plans and just taking me to bed instead. Not that I would have protested... but no, tonight was about him.

He looked edible in a black button up and brown jacket, with those white converse's that were basically fused to his feet at this point. He trimmed his beard down and has doused himself in Tam Dao by Diptique, and when I say he smelt divine, I mean, I considered calling off our plans as well.

At first, we found ourselves in a cheesy karaoke bar that was walking distance from his house. We threw back a couple shots, laughing and cheering on both the good and… not so good performances. Andy always said that despite the voice he was gifted with, he hated singing karaoke. I eventually convinced him to duet Islands in the Stream with me. It was the most fun I’d ever had. He then gave his own rendition of Sex Bomb, and I hate to admit it, but it did something to me. We snacked on shitty street food as we passed through the weekend markets, enjoying our tipsy people watching.

After that, we found a dim lit bar in the west end with live music and cheap drinks for happy hour. We caught a taxi and walked hand in hand from the car to our booth. For once, I loved having everyone's eyes on us. I wanted everyone to see us together, though we weren't really together.

The combination of the sultry jazz band in the background mingling with the effects of too much alcohol too fast had me sliding my foot up his leg, getting a high from watching his eyes darken as he squirmed. He gave me a warning look, to which I innocently sipped at my drink and averted my head to the band, gently applying pressure to his crotch. I felt his hand grip my ankle, and when I thought he'd move me away, he ran his hands up my leg instead, stopping only when he reached my knee. I turned my head back to him quickly, my core growing hot at the feeling. He looked gorgeous, curls framing his face, his eyes fixed on me as if I were the most interesting thing in the room.

His stare challenged mine, almost daring me to keep going. The look in his eyes screamed, "see what will happen," and I have never been one to turn down a dare.

Drunkenly, I slid my finger around the rim of my glass, bringing the salt to my lips as I sucked my finger clean, making effort to show my tongue at first. I pushed it in far deeper than necessary, almost able to hear the way his breath hitched in his throat. His grip on my ankle tightened, and I applied a bit more pressure with my heel.

"I swear to God, I will throw you into a cab right now," his eyes were hooded and narrowed in on me. It felt like a stand off between a predator and prey, despite feeling nothing but safety in his presence.

"You wanna take me home, big boy?" I teased, relishing in the way his cheeks flushed when I used the ridiculous pet name. He loved a good double entendre. Well, triple entendre, really.

I reached across the table to grab his hands, running my thumb over his knuckles. Despite the often heated nature of our exchanges recently, I'd never felt more loved. Maybe that was the wrong word, it was too soon. I'd never felt more secure.

He abruptly got up from the booth, dragging me to the dance floor with him. I laughed wildly, the alcohol buzzing through both of our veins like a freight train. “You hate dancing!”

“I know!” He shouted back over the music, pulling me in close to him by my waist. “But you’re beautiful and you’ve been force feeding me whiskey.”

“Hardly force feeding,” I scoffed, slapping his arm playfully. We swayed to a cover of I’d Rather Go Blind by Etta James, giggling uncontrollably at how uncoordinated we both were. It didn’t matter, it felt good.

Then there was the feeling of someone bumping into me hard, followed by the cold of a drink soaking the back of my legs. I gasped, pushing myself further into Andy to get away from the feeling.

“Sorry,” the woman spoke with no sign of remorse in her tone or expression. Andy was quick to grab a handful of napkins from the table beside us, wiping me down as I blushed embarrassedly. I was sure I was hallucinating when I looked up and saw Joe smirking. Fucking loser.

“Andy,” I pulled him up by his coat from where he was wiping me down. “Let’s go.”

“It’s okay, darlin’, you can’t even tell-“

“No, Joe is here. Let’s leave, please.” I felt hot and nauseous immediately, the glint in his eye from across the room all too familiar. He was going to make me pay for leaving him.

Andrew’s expression turned unreadable, yet he still nodded and stayed close behind me as I quickly fled the bar. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I nodded, acutely aware of how dry my throat felt. “He’s just unpredictable, I’d rather not deal with him tonight. Or, ever for that matter.”

He just hummed in response, lacing his fingers with mine. He pulled out his phone to order us an Uber. I tried to protest, insisting that we hadn’t celebrated him enough. He shushed me with a kiss, reassuring me that tonight was wonderful and he was grateful. I leaned into his body while we waited in the cold, his arm around my shoulder as we watched the traffic pass us by.

“So you are with him?” Joe scoffed, seeming to appear out of thin air. I startled at his voice, scolding myself internally for peeling away from Andy so quickly. “And you couldn't fuckin' wait for the chance to steal her, could you?"

“We aren’t together,” I quickly interjected, ignoring the way Andy’s face faltered at my clarification. “And even if I was, we are over. It’s over. Don’t you understand?”

“I understand that you can’t keep your legs shut.”

I was taken aback by his comment, unable to think of a snarky reply as my cheeks warmed and my jaw slackened.

"That's no way to speak to a woman, show some fuckin' respect," Andrew growled, stepping closer to my ex, absolutely towering over him. Joe tried to get in his face, both of them puffing their chests out like two pigeons. It was kind of sexy. Is that horrible to say?

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" Joe bit back, grabbing a fistful of Andrew's shirt.

"Stop!" I shrieked, grabbing Andrews' wrist, trying my hardest to get him away from Joe. "I want to go home."

"Home?" Joe seethed through gritted teeth, his face red as a traffic light.

Andrew shoved Joe back, sending him stumbling, barely finding his footing.

"Andy, I want to go home," my voice was fragile as I tugged on his wrist once more, his expression immediately softening when he saw tears in my eyes. He took my hand in his, leading me away as he checked to see if Joe was hanging around. Looks like the security guard saw him, thankfully.

The Uber rolled up two minutes later and I couldn't have climbed in any quicker. I was beyond grateful to be in a warm car rather than out in the cold with Joe.

"That was fuckin' scary," I huffed, throwing my head back against the headrest.

"I'm sorry," he cooed with a gentle hand threading through my hair. "I shouldn't have said anything to him."

"That was not your fault," I assured him, turning to look at those big, doe eyes that were starting to make me weak.

He gave me a half hearted smile and sat in silence for the rest of the drive. I wondered what he was thinking, but felt it was probably best to just let him feel how he needed to. When we got home, we thanked the driver and walked into Andrews house in silence.

"Are you okay?" I asked gently, standing by as he shucked his coat.

"Yeah," he sighed with a shake of his head, though it wasn't convincing in the slightest.

"Did I do something? Or, say something?" I prodded further, softly taking his hand so he'd look at me.

"Really, it's no big deal," he gave me a half hearted smile, squeezing my hand once before heading for the stairs. "I'm gonna go shower."

I watched as he walked away, wracking my brain for anything that could have happened. Surely seeing Joe didn't upset him.

Then I remembered how fast I was to reassure my ex that Andy and I weren't exclusive. Fuck. I planned out my approach in my head for a while so I didn't dig the knife in deeper.

When I made it to his room, he was in his closet with dampened curls and a towel around his waist, looking for clothes, I presume. I knocked softly to let him know I was at the door.

"Andy?"

He hummed in response, turning only his head to me.

"Is it because I said we aren't together?"

He huffed some half witted laugh, almost as if he were embarrassed.

I walked closer to him, taking his hand into mine. "Well we aren't officially together, Andy." I sighed. "But I guess we kind of are together, aren't we?"

That caught his eye.

"And," I continued, "I can't think of anyone else I'd rather be with right now." I took his face into my hands, pulling him close as I softly kissed him. His mouth was much warmer than mine and he smelt so fresh and delicious.

Each time we kissed, something deep inside of me sparked like a flint and steel. The near palpable electricity of that spark conducted its way through my lips straight to his. We found a steady rhythm that was soon forgotten, replaced by tongue and teeth, desperate for more. Without breaking contact, we staggered back onto the bed, only the cotton of his towel and the nylon of my stockings keeping our bodies separated. My hands tugged at his soft auburn curls, eliciting encouraging hymns of appraisal that I wished I could devour. His hands dug into my hips harder than he ever had. Not hard enough to hurt me, but hard enough to let me know he wanted me just as bad as I did him.

I moved my mouth to his neck, sucking at his delicate skin, feeling his pulse against my lips. He shuddered and gasped, desperately trying to grind my body against his. The sinful noises he made only made me crave him more, only made me yearn for his beautiful rhapsodies. To hear them alone, without the deafening ring of my own pleasure in my ears, to hear them without my own pants and sighs overwhelming his. Just him, all of him.

"Andy, I really want to suck your cock," I blurted, pulling away to look at him through drooped eyelids. "May I please?"

"Good manners," he joked, his eyes even more lidded than my own. "Of course, baby." He pulled me in for another kiss, his tongue gliding against mine as I let a hand trail down his stomach and underneath his towel. I felt him twitch in my hand as I started to stroke him, his groans reverberating in my mouth.

I had never wanted to knob somebody off so bad. I always hated it with whoever else I was sleeping with. There was something about Andy. He was such a giver that it felt wrong not to give him something back. Like I'd be missing out on a sacred experience if I didn't do it right now. There was no part of me that didn't get pleasure out of pleasuring him.

I pulled my lips from his, sliding down between his legs. I kissed from his jaw to his collarbones, to his chest and then his stomach, watching goosebumps form along his creamy skin, his calloused hands skating along my forearms.

I finally freed him from the towel, watching his cock jump against his happy trail. I took him into my hand, pumping his length a few times to see his facial expression change. My God, was it the most divine sight. Unable to hold off any longer, I licked a flat stripe over his tip, his precum dancing on my tongue.

"Fuck," he practically gasped, gently grabbing the back of my head.

I slowly wrapped my lips around his tip using one of my hands to guide him into my mouth. Without taking his eyes off me, he reached behind his head for a pillow, staring at me like he might die if he looked away. I didn't dare take my eyes off his.

I slowly took more of him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around him as I did so. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, borrowing a whimper from my mouth working around him. I pulled off briefly to blink up at him, "tell me how you like it, please."

He whimpered some response, nodding desperately. I put my mouth on him again, looking up for further instruction.

"Stick your tongue out a little," he breathed, the faintest of smiles on his face. "Good, now start movin', baby."

I nodded best I could with my mouth full, bobbing my head at a steady rhythm. I looked up at him through my lashes, my stomach flipping at the sight before me.

"Gooood girl," he praised me, freeing one of his hands from my hair to brush his thumb over my cheek. "Can you go a little faster, angel?"

I hummed in agreement, moving my head along his length faster, keeping my tongue out along the base the way he liked, making sure to hollow my cheeks the best I could. Not that there was much room for that. I moved one hand to steady myself against his thigh, the other slipping down to massage his balls.

"Jesus Christ," he moaned, throwing his head back. "Yeah, that's it. Just like that." My stomach flipped, my core on the verge of boiling over. I swear I could get off on the sight and sounds of him alone.

I took him as deep as I could, fighting off the urge to gag as he repeatedly hit the back of my throat. My jaw was aching and tears were threatening to fall from my eyes, but I was determined. I could tell he was close by the unsteady rhythm of his breathing.

He gave my hair a firm tug, a warning, almost as if to give me the option to pull off. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum if you keep going."

I hummed in acknowledgement, no shred of intention to stop in my body.

"Where, baby?" He breathed, the muscles in his stomach beginning to tense. I traced a few shapes with my tongue as a form of communication, my way of showing him where, looking up at him. "Christ, Y/N," he groaned, spilling hot ribbons onto my tongue, his hips stuttering beneath me. I kept my mouth on him as he rode out his high, his face contorted in ecstasy, brows furrowed, mouth agape as his euphonious appraisals slipped from it.

I pulled off, my lips swollen and red, mascara no doubt running down my cheeks, and now uncomfortably horny.

Like he could read my mind, he sat up pulled me into his lap, now kissing my neck. His beard scratched across my collarbones in the most tantalising way, his hands working quickly to unzip my dress. He did so with ease, slipping the material off my shoulders where it pooled in our laps.

"You are perfect," he sighed against my skin, kissing me hard as he palmed one of my breasts. I whimpered against him, my hands in his hair as he buried his face in my chest. One of his hands cradled the bottom of my skull, the other guiding my breast to his mouth as he flicked his tongue across my nipple.

"Andy," I whined, pure need unmistakable in my tone. "Mmh, need you, baby."

He flipped me onto my back without warning, sliding down the bed between my thighs. His eyes were hungry, almost primal. Despite his release only moments prior, he had determination written all over his face as he buried his face between my thighs, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses through my stockings. "Please, I need you now. Please, please," my voice was whinier than I'd ever heard it, so much so I almost didn't recognise it.

My dress was still bunched around my waist, but he didn't seem too inconvenienced. My stockings, however, had no chance of surviving this one. In one fluid movement, he ripped through the crotch of my stockings, tearing them thigh to thigh. I gasped, my stomach flipping at the gesture. He pulled my knickers to the side, sliding his tongue over my clit without warning. Instantly, my back was arching autonomously, my head already thrown back against the mattress.

His tongue flitted against me with expert precision, switching between sucking and licking. "Tell me how you like it," he spoke against me, the vibrations from his voice combined with his soft lips against the most sensitive part of my body making my head go fuzzy. I couldn't even respond, only able to fumble around for his hand.

He slipped two fingers in with ease and I nearly screamed in pleasure. Lewd, wet noises filled the room, my whines and moans somehow even louder than the physical proof of my arousal. His deft fingers worked me to the fastest orgasm known to man, hitting my g-spot with each thrust, his tongue signing love letters onto my clit.

I chanted his name like a mantra, desperately clinging to the bedsheets beneath me as I completely lost myself under his touch. The most incredible feeling ever ripped through my every nerve ending, every fibre, every atom of my being. I shook uncontrollably beneath him, toes curled, eyes screwed shut as I made noises nobody else had ever torn from me. This must be what heaven feels like.

I finally came back down to Earth, panting like I'd ran a marathon. Andy wiped his mouth on the towel, the most satisfied grin I'd ever seen plastered to his face.

"Andy, I-" I stammered, genuinely lost for words as I laid my head on his chest. "I owe you the world. What do you want? Whatever it is, it's yours."

"Are you kiddin' me?" He laughed exasperatedly, kissing my forehead. "I should be givin' you the world. That was the closest to a religious experience I've ever had."

"You'd better write a song about this," I half joked, shimmying my dress off finally.

"Way ahead of ya', darlin'," he sighed in content. "I need to do that more."

"You ruined my stockings, Andy," I sighed in faux disappointment, "but that might have been the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

Then he was back to his shy self, a bashful grin on his face that he covered with his arm, leaving my heart to soar within my chest.

Fuck. I was catching proper feelings. Like... proper. Like, L-Word feelings. The realisation hit me like a tonne of bricks. Andy was to go and record some songs next week. What if he didn't feel the same? What if he got really famous and left me behind? Was I just sex? Was he just a rebound? It all has really moved fast, I shouldn't be getting attached...

"I'm gonna shower," I smiled politely, excusing myself before he had a chance to say anything.

A million thoughts raced through my mind at once. Was I trying to sabotage this for myself? It felt nice to be clean, a nice reset. The water defrosted me, made me feel centred again. I dried off and slipped into one of his hoodies.

"I need to tell you something," I blurted, unable to stop the words from coming out as I walked back into his room.

i did some googling and there might be some confusion (or maybe not, but just in case) when i say stockings i mean toe to hip tights/hosiery. i'm australian lol i apologise if some things don't make sense... i don't like the word hosiery ok

[theonottsbxtch]

WHATS LEFT BEHIND PT.5 | MV1

an: FINAL PART LETS GO! i actually now need myself a bull rider boyfriend. call me a buckle bunny but im booking my flights to texas NEOW

summary: when max verstappen left his childhood girlfriend behind to face her career ending injury alone to chase his dreams of being the best bull rider the country has ever seen, he thought it would be easy. except it wasn't, he was back in town and they hated him, for one reason. they hurt their star barrel racer.

wc: 5.3k

part one | part two | part three |

A week had passed since Max had started working at the barn, and, as much as he’d hoped things would smooth over quickly, she hadn’t exactly made life easy. She didn’t make his life hell, but she sure as hell made him work for every bit of her attention—and he was determined not to back down.

Every morning started the same. He’d roll up before dawn, grabbing her usual coffee order along with his own, and leave it on her desk in the barn’s office before heading out to do whatever Leslie had lined up for him. She never said thank you, but he noticed the empty coffee cups in the trash each afternoon. That was a win, even if she refused to acknowledge it.

But the rest of the day? She kept him on his toes. Whether it was piling on extra chores—cleaning the muck out of the hardest-to-reach stalls, fixing a fence she’d “forgotten” to mention was half-broken, or rearranging hay bales just after he’d finished stacking them—she  found ways to keep him busy.

She didn’t nag or yell, though. No, that would have been too easy. Instead, she went about her work like he wasn’t even there, leaving him with that cool, indifferent attitude that drove him half-crazy. And yet, in those quiet moments, when he’d catch her out of the corner of his eye, he’d sometimes see her watching him, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face before she turned away.

It was enough to keep him going.

That Friday, Max found himself knee-deep in the back stalls, mucking out the worst of the mess while she worked in the far corner, brushing down one of the horses. The barn was quiet, except for the occasional whinny or shuffle of hooves. He glanced up every now and then, hoping for a chance to talk to her, but she kept her distance, focused on her task.

When lunchtime rolled around, he wiped the sweat from his brow and tossed the shovel to the side. His arms ached, and he could feel the strain in his back from the week’s work, but he wasn’t about to complain. He’d do anything to stay in her orbit, no matter how many stalls he had to clean or fences he had to fix.

He stepped outside, taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air. The sun hung high, casting a warm glow over the fields. She walked out a few minutes later, heading toward her truck. He figured she’d drive off like she had been doing all week, probably to meet Heidi for lunch or to run errands.

But then she paused at her door, glancing back at him.

"You missed a spot in stall five," she said, her tone deadpan, though he swore he saw the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

Max wiped his hands on his jeans and shot her a grin. "I’ll get right on that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Better."

She didn’t wait for his response, just climbed into her truck and drove off, leaving a trail of dust in her wake.

And an hour later, when Max had finished the stalls, double-checking the one she’d pointed out. It was spotless, of course, but he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of calling her out on it. He was learning her rhythm—the small ways she tested him, the subtle pushes to see if he’d break. But he wasn’t about to.

As he stepped out of the barn, wiping the dirt off his boots, Leslie walked up, arms crossed, watching him with an amused look.

"She’s making you work for it, huh?" Leslie said, her voice laced with amusement.

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "Is it that obvious?"

Leslie smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, it’s clear as day, cowboy. She might not say much, but she sees everything. And trust me, she’s watching you closer than you think."

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I figured as much."

"You holding up okay?" Leslie asked, more serious now. "She’s not making it easy, but if anyone can handle it, it’s you."

Max glanced back toward the direction her truck had disappeared. "I’ll take whatever she throws at me. I owe her that much."

Leslie nodded, her expression softening. "Just don’t push too hard, alright? She’ll come around. Maybe slower than you’d like, but she will."

Max let out a breath, his determination still strong. "I’m not going anywhere."

"Good," Leslie said, giving him a pat on the arm before walking off.

As the afternoon wore on, Max stayed busy with his tasks, but he couldn’t help thinking about her, about how she kept her walls so high, how she tested him day after day. But he wasn’t here for an easy win. He was here to make things right.

And if that meant mucking out stalls and rebuilding fences until she finally let him in? So be it.

Later that evening, she was sat in Heidi's kitchen, her hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea. Heidi was perched on the counter, scrolling through her phone before glancing up at her, who had been unusually quiet for most of their hangout.

"You alright?" Heidi asked, narrowing her eyes with a knowing look. "You seem... distracted."

She sighed, leaning back against her chair. "Just tired, I guess. It's been a long week."

Heidi gave her a pointed look. "Or maybe it's not the work that's tiring you out, but who you're working with."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. "Please, Heidi. Don't start."

Heidi grinned, hopping off the counter and leaning in closer. "Come on, angel. I’ve seen the way he’s been busting his ass at the barn. Everyone has. He’s practically on call for any chore you throw at him. You’ve got to admit, he's putting in the effort."

She sipped her tea, her expression softening despite herself. "Yeah, maybe. But it doesn’t change anything, Heidi. What he did... I can’t just forget all of that."

Heidi raised an eyebrow, setting her phone down. "Look, I'm not saying you should forget it. But forgiveness isn’t about erasing the past, it’s about letting go of it. You see the way he’s trying. People don’t do that unless they really care."

She stared into her mug, her mind flicking through the past week. The coffee left on her desk each morning, the small fixes around the barn that Max did without a word, the way he smiled when he thought she wasn’t looking. She couldn’t deny it—he was making an effort, a real one.

But was it enough?

That night, she headed over to her mother's, her conversation with Heidi replaying in her mind. It was getting late, and the evening sun had dipped low in the sky, casting a warm glow across the yard as she pulled into her driveway. As she got out of her truck, something unusual caught her eye.

The ramp leading up to her mother’s front porch—usually creaky and worn—looked... different. Fixed. The wood was fresh, the railing sturdy. She frowned, puzzled. She had been meaning to repair it herself but hadn't found the time yet.

Curious, she headed inside, finding her mother sitting comfortably at the kitchen table reading a cookbook.

"Hey, Mum," she said, dropping her keys on the counter. "I noticed the ramp out front. Did you hire someone to fix it?"

Her mother looked up from her book with a soft smile, shaking her head. "Oh no, honey, I didn’t hire anyone."

She blinked, confused. "Then how did it get fixed?"

Her mother’s smile widened, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Max stopped by earlier this week. He saw the ramp and said it wasn’t in any state for ‘a woman like me’ to be using, so he fixed it. Didn’t ask for anything, just said it was his pleasure."

Her chest tightened, warmth flooding her in a way she hadn’t expected. She stared at her mother, trying to process the thought of Max—without any prodding, without any expectation of acknowledgment—quietly fixing the ramp.

"He did that?" she asked softly, more to herself than to her mother.

"Sure did," her mom replied. "And you should’ve seen the look on his face when I thanked him. Almost like he didn’t expect anyone to notice."

She bit her lip, fighting the tug at her heart. He was making an effort, far beyond what she had expected. And it wasn’t just for show—it was genuine, thoughtful, and quietly persistent. She couldn’t ignore that anymore, no matter how hard she tried to keep her walls up.

Later that night, as she lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, she couldn’t shake the image of Max fixing her mother’s ramp. He hadn’t told her. He hadn’t even tried to get credit for it. He was just... there. Trying. For her.

And for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to admit that maybe, just maybe, she was starting to care again.

The following morning, she went about her usual routine, but with one small difference. As she packed her lunch, she threw in an extra sandwich, a bag of chips, and some fruit. Her hands moved on autopilot, but her mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the past few days. She still wasn’t sure what to make of everything, but a small part of her—one she hadn’t listened to in years—was softening.

Arriving at the barn, she found Max already working. His back was turned to her as he fixed one of the fences, the morning sun casting long shadows across the yard. His worn-out flannel shirt clung to his frame, muscles flexing with every hammer strike. She lingered for a second longer than she intended, watching him in quiet thought.

“Morning,” she called out, snapping herself out of it.

Max turned, wiping the sweat from his brow, and smiled at her. “Morning.”

She didn’t return the smile, but something in her expression was a little lighter today. She walked past him to start her own tasks, her heart beating a bit faster than usual.

As lunchtime approached, she gathered the packed lunches from her bag and headed to where Max was working. He was kneeling by a row of tools, setting them down with precision. He hadn’t noticed her approach yet.

She stood there for a moment, unsure of how to go about it. This wasn’t a peace offering—at least, she wasn’t ready to call it that—but it was... something.

“Hey,” she called out again, a little softer this time.

Max stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans as he turned toward her. “What’s up?”

“I packed extra,” she said, holding up the food, her voice steady but neutral. “Figured you might want to eat with me.”

Max’s surprise was unmistakable. His eyes flickered from the lunch she held to her face, as if trying to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. “You—uh—yeah, sure. That’d be great.”

She led them over to a shaded area near the barn, where they sat side by side on a patch of grass. The air was filled with the scent of hay and the sound of distant horses. She handed him the sandwich without saying anything more, and they ate in silence.

The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was loaded with unspoken thoughts. Max didn’t dare speak, afraid that saying the wrong thing might ruin this fragile truce between them. So he savoured the moment instead—the fact that she’d thought of him at all, that she’d packed lunch for him. It wasn’t much, but to him, it was everything.

Every now and then, she would glance at him from the corner of her eye, noticing how he ate slowly, as if he was trying to make the moment last. He didn’t try to force conversation, didn’t push her for more than she was willing to give. And oddly enough, she appreciated that.

When they finished, Max balled up the wrapper from his sandwich and looked at her with a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. For this. It means a lot.”

She didn’t say anything at first, just nodded as she folded her legs under herself. But inside, she could feel the cracks widening, her walls slowly crumbling under the weight of his quiet persistence.

“Don’t read into it,” she finally said, though her tone lacked its usual sharpness.

Max chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I’m just happy you thought of me.”

And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t snap back or pull away. Instead, she sat there in silence, the remnants of lunch between them, and let herself enjoy the stillness.

As she watched him from the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

That night, she found herself back at the rodeo grounds. The arena was empty, illuminated by the soft glow of the arena lights overhead. The cool night air swept through the open space, carrying with it the familiar scent of dust and hay. She had her horse, Luna, with her, and despite the late hour, she wanted to try a new technique with the barrels. Something had been nagging at her all day—a feeling that she needed to push herself harder, to regain what she felt she'd lost over the years.

After saddling Luna and setting up the barrels, she took a deep breath. Her heart raced, but she was determined. She mounted Luna and gave a gentle nudge with her heels, signalling the start. They took off at a steady gallop, rounding the barrels, leaning in and guiding Luna with precision. But something went wrong as they approached the last turn.

Luna slipped on the soft dirt, throwing off their balance. She felt herself lurch forward, unable to regain control. Before she knew it, her body hit the ground with a hard thud, her leg twisting beneath her.

A sharp pain shot through her shin, and the air was knocked from her lungs. She lay there for a moment, disoriented, trying to gather her breath. But as the pain intensified, a sinking realisation hit her—something was wrong.

She clenched her teeth, willing herself to move. Her hands dug into the dirt as she tried to stand, but the pain in her leg made her gasp. She collapsed back onto the ground, her chest heaving as the tears welled in her eyes. She knew she couldn’t walk on it, and the frustration burned deep inside her.

“Damn it,” she hissed under her breath, the reality of her situation settling in. Her eyes darted to the bench by the fence, where her phone lay. If she could just reach it, she could call for help.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself up into a sitting position. The pain in her leg was unbearable, but she forced herself to move, dragging her body toward the bench. Every inch felt like a mile, and by the time she reached it, her hands were trembling from the effort and pain.

She grabbed her phone, swiping it open with shaking fingers. For a moment, she hesitated. There was only one person who came to mind in her state, but calling him would mean admitting she needed him. Swallowing her pride, she scrolled through her contacts and hit Max’s number.

The phone rang twice before she heard his voice, laced with sleep and confusion. “Darlin’? What’s going on?”

Her voice cracked as she spoke, trying to keep it steady. “Max... I need your help.”

There was silence on the other end for a split second, and then, his tone shifted, becoming sharper, more alert. “Where are you? What happened?”

“I’m at the rodeo grounds,” she said, her breath shallow. “I fell... I think I fractured my shin. I can’t— I can’t stand.”

“I’m on my way,” Max said, no hesitation in his voice. “Stay where you are. I’ll be there in five.”

The call ended, and she rested her head back against the bench, her tears finally spilling over. She hated feeling this vulnerable, this helpless. But in that moment, all she could do was wait and hope Max could get to her before the pain became too much.

Max rolled out of bed the moment her call ended, barely taking a second to throw on a shirt. His mind raced as he grabbed the first aid kit he always kept in his truck, along with two pillows he stuffed under his arm. He cursed under his breath, already imagining the worst, knowing that she wouldn’t have called him unless she had no other choice.

He drove through the quiet streets toward the rodeo grounds way above the speed limit, his heart pounding in time with the thrum of his engine. The sky was still dark, the early morning stars fading into the approaching dawn. When he finally arrived at the arena, his headlights washed over her, slumped against the bench, her face pale and streaked with dirt and pain.

He was out of the truck and by her side in seconds.

“Sweetheart, hey,” he said, his voice soft but urgent as he knelt beside her. His hair was a mess, and she could tell he’d come straight from bed. She could even make out the faint marks on his face from where his pillow had pressed into his skin. Despite everything, she felt a strange warmth in her chest at the sight of him so unguarded, so rushed.

“You really didn’t have to come this fast,” she muttered, trying to keep her voice light through the pain, but Max was already assessing her leg.

“You said you couldn’t stand,” he said, his tone firm as he gently touched the area around her shin, making her wince. “Yeah, you weren’t kidding. Looks pretty swollen. You did a number on it.”

Without wasting another moment, he positioned the pillows beneath her leg, carefully lifting her injured shin with as much tenderness as he could muster. “We need to keep this elevated.”

She leaned back, biting her lip against the surge of pain as he made her comfortable. “I’m fine, Max. Just... get me to the hospital, okay?”

“Yeah, we’re going,” he nodded. “Okay, let’s get you into the truck.”

He slipped his arms under her without warning, lifting her off the ground with an ease that made her breath catch. For a moment, she wanted to protest, tell him she could manage, but the truth was, she couldn’t. And something about the way he carried her, like she was fragile and precious, made her fall silent.

Max gently settled her into the passenger seat, making sure her leg was resting on the pillows he had brought. Once she was situated, he leaned in for a second, his eyes locking on hers.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, her voice a little softer than before. “Thanks.”

He gave her a quick nod before stepping away, his boots crunching in the dirt as he turned back toward Luna, who had been waiting anxiously nearby. She watched as Max took the reins, speaking softly to the horse to calm her down. He led Luna toward the stable, his movements steady and practised, like he’d done it a thousand times.

After securing Luna safely in a stall, Max pulled out his phone and dialled Daniel, explaining the situation. “Hey, man, can you come get her horse from the Rodeo Grounds off Milton? Yeah, she’s here, she had a fall and I’m taking her to the hospital now.”

Daniel must’ve agreed because Max gave a quick thanks and hung up, heading back to the truck. He climbed into the driver’s seat, glancing over at her as he started the engine.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice a little softer now.

She nodded, her head leaning back against the seat, her face tense with pain but somehow calmer now that he was with her. She shifted slightly, her hand resting over her shin. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Max didn’t waste any more time. He pulled out of the rodeo grounds, the truck rumbling down the road toward the hospital. Every now and then, he’d glance over at her, making sure she was okay, but she kept her eyes forward, trying to focus on anything other than the throbbing in her leg.

When they pulled up to the hospital, Max jumped out of the truck and went straight for help. Within minutes, a nurse brought a wheelchair over, and she was gently transferred from the truck into the chair. She gritted her teeth as pain radiated through her shin with every small movement, but Max was there, his hand on her shoulder, steady and reassuring.

Once they got her inside and into a room, the doctors took over, examining her leg and running x-rays. Max never left her side. Even when the doctors moved her to a bed and propped her leg up with more pillows, he sat in a chair nearby, his eyes fixed on her like he was afraid she might disappear if he looked away for even a second.

The cast came next, wrapping her shin from ankle to knee, and while the doctors spoke to her about recovery time and physical therapy, she could only focus on Max sitting quietly by the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together, but his body still tense with worry.

Once the doctors left the room, silence settled between them. It was just the two of them now, and she was suddenly very aware of the soft hum of the hospital, the sound of her own breathing, and the way Max’s presence seemed to fill every inch of the small room.

She shifted slightly on the bed, wincing at the tug of pain. Max noticed and immediately stood, closing the distance between them. Without a word, he leaned down, gently brushing the hair from her face, and then he pressed his lips softly against her forehead.

The simple, tender gesture sent a warmth through her that had nothing to do with the hospital blankets. Her breath caught in her throat as her heart began to race. She could feel the weight of years between them, the unresolved emotions swirling in the air, and then, as if he could sense it too, Max spoke.

“I ain’t leaving this time,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, full of quiet resolve. His thumb traced gently along her temple, his touch soft but firm, grounding her in the moment.

She blinked up at him, her chest tightening as the words sank in. There was a vulnerability in his voice, something she hadn’t heard before, and it disarmed her.

"You said that when we were kids," she whispered back, her voice laced with a mix of old hurt and hesitation.

“I know,” he said, straightening up but never taking his eyes off her. “But this time, I mean it.”

For the first time in years, she saw something in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since they were teenagers—pure, unguarded sincerity. And for a moment, it scared her. She had built so many walls to protect herself from this exact moment, from feeling anything for him again. But here he was, and somehow, without even trying, he was breaking through those walls.

She swallowed hard, looking away as she fought the urge to let her guard down completely. “You can’t just say things like that and expect me to believe you.”

“I know,” Max said quietly, his voice steady but soft. “But I’ll prove it to you, darlin’. I promise.” He took a step back, giving her space. "I’ll be here. Every day. For as long as it takes."

She felt something stir deep in her chest, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for so long. But she wasn’t ready to acknowledge it yet. So instead, she looked away, blinking back the sudden sting in her eyes, and said nothing.

Max didn’t push. He just pulled the chair back up beside her bed and sat down again, settling in like he was prepared to stay as long as she needed him to.

And in that moment, she realised that maybe—just maybe—this time, he really meant it.

The following morning she stirred slowly, the soft beeping of machines and the faint smell of antiseptic greeting her as she opened her eyes. For a moment, she was disoriented, the hospital room unfamiliar, the bright light overhead too harsh. But as she shifted slightly, the discomfort in her leg reminded her where she was.

And then she saw him.

Max was slumped in the chair beside her bed, his head tilted back, mouth slightly open, and the light from the window fell across his face. He looked worn out, the stubble on his jaw accentuating the dark circles under his eyes. It was clear he had fallen asleep waiting for her to wake up, and her heart swelled at the sight. He looked so peaceful, but she couldn’t help but wonder how uncomfortable that chair must be after a long night.

Just as she was about to call out to him, the door creaked open, and her mother walked in, followed closely by Heidi. They both froze for a second, taking in the scene: her awake in bed and Max asleep in the chair, clearly the protector she needed.

“Oh, honey!” her mother exclaimed, rushing to her side. “You’re awake!” She brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, concern etched on her features. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” she replied, her voice hoarse but light. She glanced at Max again, a soft smile breaking across her face. “Is he okay?”

Heidi exchanged a knowing look with her mother, both of them trying to suppress their amusement. “Looks like he’s been here all night,” Heidi said quietly, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “I think he’s more tired than you are.”

Her heart fluttered at that, a mixture of gratitude and guilt washing over her. She hadn’t wanted him to feel like he had to stay, but the sight of him right there, ready to care for her, warmed her in a way she hadn’t expected.

As if on cue, Max stirred, blinking awake and immediately focusing on her. His eyes brightened, and he pushed himself upright, shaking off the remnants of sleep. “Hey,” he murmured, voice gravelly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I ran a marathon,” she replied, attempting to joke. “But it’s nice to see you.”

He smiled, a small, genuine smile that made her heart skip a beat. Just then, her mother cleared her throat, and the atmosphere shifted slightly.

“Sweetpea, we’ll let you have some time with Max,” her mother said, glancing knowingly at the two of them. “He clearly has something to say.” She motioned for Heidi to follow her out.

“Mum, wait—” she started, but her mother was already closing the door behind her, leaving her alone with Max.

The moment stretched, the air thick with unspoken words. She was both grateful for the space and hesitant about what to say.

Max leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression earnest. “Darlin’, about last night—”

Before he could finish, the door swung open again, this time revealing her mother and Heidi, who walked back in.

“Sorry to interrupt!” her mother chirped, but the way her eyes sparkled indicated they weren’t sorry at all. “We just wanted to let you know that we’re going to grab some coffee and food. We’ll be back shortly.”

As they turned to leave, Heidi shot her a quick wink, whispering loud enough for Max to hear, “Looks like someone’s going to stay this time.”

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and Max’s gaze flickered between the two women before he smirked, clearly amused by their implication. “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, the confidence in his voice sending warmth spreading through her.

As her mother and Heidi exited the room, Max settled back into the chair, the teasing atmosphere dissipating into something deeper. “I meant what I said last night,” he added, his tone serious. “I’m not leaving this time, darlin’. You can count on me.”

She swallowed, her heart racing at the promise in his words. She wanted to believe him, to trust him again, but she knew it would take time. Still, there was a flicker of hope, a spark that hadn’t been there before.

“Okay,” she said softly, meeting his gaze. “I hope you mean that.”

He nodded, a small smile breaking across his face, and in that moment, the air between them was charged with the possibility of healing, of building something new together.

She watched as Max's eyes darkened with a mix of emotions—relief, longing, and something else she couldn’t quite place. She felt the air between them thicken, charged with the weight of everything they had been through, all the words unsaid, and the feelings that had lingered for far too long.

Before she could think, she reached out, gripping the edge of the hospital bed. “Max—”

He leaned in closer, his eyes locked onto hers, as if he could see right into her soul. “Sweetheart, I know things are complicated, and I know I hurt you—”

“I just—”

But the moment hung between them, fragile yet electric. She could feel the pull, a magnetic force drawing them closer, igniting a fire she thought had dimmed years ago.

And then it happened. Max surged forward, capturing her lips with his in a kiss that was both tender and fierce. It was a kiss filled with the weight of their history, the longing that had been buried beneath years of pain, and the passion that had never truly faded. She melted into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with an intensity she hadn’t realised she was capable of.

The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in a moment that felt both like a homecoming and a revelation. She could feel his warmth enveloping her, wrapping her in safety and comfort. The soft beeping of the machines and the sterile scent of the hospital evaporated, replaced by the sweetness of his breath mingling with hers.

As they pulled apart, breathless, Her heart raced. She could see the depth of his feelings reflected in his eyes, but the weight of everything that had happened loomed over them like a dark cloud.

“Max…” she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he interrupted, his voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped loving you. I know you can’t just forget everything that happened, but I’m here to stay. I’m here to be yours, and I’m—”

But she didn’t let him finish. Instead, she pulled him forward, capturing his lips again, desperate to erase the doubt and fear that threatened to invade this fragile moment. The kiss deepened, their lips moving in a passionate dance, a combination of urgency and need. It felt like they were reclaiming something that had always belonged to them, something that had been buried but never forgotten.

Their breaths mingled, and she felt herself surrendering completely. She could feel the warmth of his body radiating against her, and it ignited something deep within her, a fire that had been dormant for far too long. She pulled him closer, as if she could merge their bodies, their souls, into one.

Finally, they broke apart, both gasping for air, foreheads resting against each other, hearts racing in unison. She looked into his eyes, searching for certainty, and saw the sincerity etched in every line of his face.

“Okay,” she murmured, a smile breaking through the tension. “You can stay.”

Max grinned, his relief palpable. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she said, her heart fluttering with hope. “But you better be prepared to work for it.”

He laughed softly, a sound that made her heart soar. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

the end.

[morallygreychaoticneutral]

Astarion prefers monogamy.

Again, simply my cup of thought tea steeped from my game experience. Its not everyone's drink. No shame, no blame, it's your game. Warning for triggers and spoilers.

*added note due to misunderstandings.

Please notice I said "prefers monogamy" not "is monogamous". He may be up for added partners later on down the line. But definitely not any time before the epilogue in my world.

So, why do I think he prefers monogamy?

Take..

"Iv never had anyone. Not really. Nothing that compares to you."

And mix that with...

"I had nothing for so very long. NOTHING! Not even my own body!"

And add..

"You're you. Nobody is like that."

Plus countless other comments and actions and you get a bowl full of elf who just wants something for himself only for a change.

Centuries of being forced to give up or share everything. His possessions, his person, his own thoughts. Nothing to claim as own that no one else could take or touch at any moment. I'm sure if anything was given to him, he had to fight to keep it.

I think, he would be a bit possessive of anything he could claim as his own.

You are a gift to him. Something rare and special beyond words. I highly doubt he would be willing to share anything you are sharing with him outside of friendship. I could even see him getting fussy about strangers touching you. Moving you away or putting himself physically between you and whomever just touched you without asking.

Hells, even ascended Astarion isn't 100% game to share.

"As much as I wish to sequester you in a deep chamber of my palace and keep you all to myself...there is much to be done."

But, what about Halsin? He says he's fine with it.

Is he? Or is he people pleasing?

If he had said something along the lines of,

"Oh? He wants to share does he? Of course he does. I'm not up for such activities just yet, but you are free to have as much Halsin as you wish. "

I would have gone on that bear hunt, but he doesn't.

He askes you if you are wanting to sleep with Halsin because he has not been able to meet your sexual needs. And I interpreted that as he's vulnerable and worried he's being replaced for not putting out.

Imagine you had asked your lover to not to look to you for sex for reasons you are working out. They agree and you are just relieved as hell about it.

"You were patient. You cared."

Then they come along later down the line and say they are thinking about having sex with a friend. Where would your mind go?

I would bet hard gold he weighed the options in his head. "If I don't let them do this, they might leave me for good. But if I allow it, they wont have an immediate reason to leave. Halsin is the safest option given his experience."

And what's the best way to feel less awful about a situation we cant control? Create a counter situation where we gaslight ourselves into thinking its fine.

Wheeee!

I'm not saying Halsin's offer was bad, it was perfectly fine, it was just poorly placed in the grand scheme of things. If you and Astarion were having fun again before he suggested being an extra, then it would have been easier to believe he was really fine with it.

If they wanted Astarion to be a poly partner they needed to write it better. Shadowheart makes more sense as pro poly than he does.

So for me, Astarion is a one on one elf.

I am not against polyamory. I am not trying to take representation away. I am not shaming anybody for their choices. There is just not enough specific content to support it fully FOR ME. I was actually excited at the idea of having two partners in my fantasy world. Halsin was very clear and very specific about being on board. Astarion was not. And the choice did not feel right. Add a line somewhere for Astarion where he says "Im perfectly fine with sharing, darling. As long as it is discussed and we are in agreement of course." I will happily be on board with it.

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #1 (Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader)

A/N: After being dead on this account for years, like Christ (or bread?), I have risen (I'm not religious). The point is, if you are new to this series, welcome! I am rewriting this series for myself (and anyone still reading after all this time). It is something I want to see through and that I loved re-reading all these years later. The original reception was so warm and lovely, sometimes making me feel guilty for leaving so abruptly. I loved every reblog, comment, tag, and like for this series. I hope that if you're still here, you like the remake. This series DOES contain sensitive matters such as kidnapping, death, torture, sexual themes, and more. If you struggle with this material please know you are not alone and always reach out for help. I will be making a new masterlist once I have more chapters out. Please let me know what you think and enjoy! - Much love, Em <3

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Next Chapter: Tape #2

WARNING: stalking, mention of kidnapping, blood, cursing, and sensitive material ahead.

Tape Contents: You start recording videos for the BAU once you find out you have a stalker.

Word Count: 2,196

Tape #1- December 29, 20XX

Your face looks a little apprehensive as you move away from the webcam on your computer. Your eyes flick off the screen, leaning forward to read something as if you had planned out a script for yourself. You wave at the camera, offering the lens a weak and shy smile. Your posture slumps for a second, letting out a prolonged sigh. “I,” you frown at the camera, “I’m not good at talking to myself on video, it seems.” 

“I guess bluntness might be a saving grace for both of us,” you whisper as you play with a ring on your middle finger, sliding it up and down your finger, “You know that feeling you get when you’re driving home late at night and you think to yourself, ‘Oh my god. I think that car behind me is following me.’ I think it all started with that.” A hand reaches for your hair, and you timidly move a stray strand away from your eyes. 

“I tried everything I could think of and kept turning randomly, but it was too late. I would rush up to my apartment, and across the street would the same red van every fucking weekend. I tried to get the plate one day as I watched them leave from my window, but no such luck.” You swallow thickly, your voice suddenly full of emotion. 

A sad smile crosses your face as you shake your head, “Fucking dumb, this is so fucking dumb.” you cry softly as tears dance along your lash line. You take a deep breath and push your shoulders back in a desperate attempt to regain your composure. 

You hold up a wilted, purple rose. Loose petals fall as you twist the stem between your thumb and index. “Got this last night, just on my windshield.” You mutter with a tone of disdain. “Don’t even like roses.” you joke lightly as you set the rose on your desk. 

“I’m going to the police tomorrow. I just… thought maybe doing this would make me feel better,” you pause and let out a bitter laugh, leaning toward the camera, “It hasn’t.” 

Then the screen goes black. 

Tape #2- January 3, 20XX. 

Your eyes have bags under them, and you gently rub the bridge between them. “So, got told off by the police.” 

You lean back in your desk chair and shake your head before pointing accusingly at the camera. “Went to the station, brought my stupid fucking rose and everything. They told me they would patrol the area. Of course, what car do I not see across the street anymore? That fucking red van. Guy told me that I was just imagining things.” 

You relax for a second before speaking again, your shoulders squaring defensively. “And! And, the second they leave, guess who is back again. Every single weekend, 7 pm to 11 pm.” You let out a weary sigh and rest an arm on your desk, staring directly into the camera. 

“The Police said they couldn’t even do anything until something boarding physical assault happens.” You trail off with a sideways glance away from the screen. 

“I’m not going to just sit idly by waiting to get assaulted.” You hiss out, leaning forward and stopping the video. 

Tape #3- January 14, 20XX 

You’re playing with the edges of your sweater as you lean back into your chair, rocking slightly. “Got another love present today,” Your voice distant as you pull a Polaroid from the desk, holding it up for the camera to see. 

The Polaroid was of you at the library where you worked. You were sitting in a striped sweater, your hair down. You were smiling at one of the volunteers who works ‘story hour.’ You threw the picture back on the desk with a grimace. 

“No one told me that my sweater that day looked so hideous.” You croak out in a desperate attempt to make yourself laugh in the moment, and for a second, it works. You start with a slight chuckle, but it quickly takes a sharp turn for the worst and becomes a full-on sob. 

“I’m sorry,” you choke out before you wipe tears from under your eyes, “I’m just scared. My mom and I talked about it, and she said that maybe it was a ‘secret admirer,’ which… does not make it any better. I feel like everyone thinks I’m fucking crazy.” Your voice raises before you cut yourself off and look down at your sweater again. 

“I’m not,” 

Camera off.

Tape #4- January 17, 20XX

You smile at the camera and scoot a little closer. “Hey,” you say with a gentle sigh of relief, “Great news—I’m organized!”

You lean back and relax in your chair slightly, “So I’m Y/N L/N. I work as a librarian here in Richmond, Virginia. My apartment will be in my records, I’m sure.” You laugh out softly, holding up a photo of a tattoo that seems to reside on your lower collarbone. 

“I didn’t want to flash the camera, so I took the liberty of taking a photo of this lovely tattoo of mine,” you say, glancing at the photo of the line-art floral tattoo next to your face. “If you think this doesn’t seem like me… well, you’re partially right. I was drunk in Vegas for my twenty-first birthday, and then I woke up missing a good chunk of money and a tattoo.” You shrug as you slowly set the photo on your desk. 

“I’m not trying to freak anyone out if they do see this. I just…” you pause, releasing a slow and controlling breath, “I want to be found if I do go missing. I want to be easily identified if I’m not alive. I want people to know I was a person and not just a body, you know?” You let your lips grow into a weak smile, nodding slightly, seeming to agree with yourself. 

“I’m making these to help myself, to feel like I have more control. The presents stopped recently, but they’re still watching me every weekend. It feels like it's about to get worse. I can’t explain it. I’m not trying to make the police feel bad. I just… don’t like going down without a fight.” 

“Speaking of not going down without a fight,” You reach over to grab a photo and proudly turn it over to the camera. “You know who this is?” You ask your silent audience. “This is the lovely Jennifer Jareau.” You answer with a weak smile, feeling strange as you talk with yourself. 

“I decided to beg the police to email this video folder to her. Currently, just the police have this, as I’m annoying and persistent but also very charming. That’s a lie. My coworker's boyfriend’s friend works at the station. Hopefully,” You swallow gently as the photo slips away from your fingers. “Hopefully, they won’t have to send it to her and the BAU team, but in the unfortunate case, she does see this.” You smile, wave a little, mouth a soft ‘hello,’ and lean forward—screen black. 

Tape #5- February 10, 20XX

You’re wearing a red, pink, and white striped sweater with a white headband pushing your hair back as the camera focuses again on you. “Happy Early Valentine’s Day to everyone who got a gift from their stalker on the top of their car today,” you say with mock happiness before your smile falls, and you hold up a copy of Wuthering Heights. 

You flip through the pages before stopping on one and facing it toward the camera, trying to get it to focus, but you quickly find the task irritating. You groan and decide to read the line, “Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad.”

“That's one of the lines circled, underlined, and highlighted…” You say, flipping through more pages slowly. 

“The only scenes highlighted seem to involve Heathcliff and Catherine, which are romantic scenes, of course, but just that one quote is emphasized.”  You say, shaking your head, and you laugh a little, setting the book somewhere outside the frame. 

“What a shitty gift, I already have a copy.” You joke before the screen turns black. 

Tape #6- February 14, 20XX

Your face is flush red, eyes swollen and raw from crying as you sit in front of the camera, speechless for a short amount of time. You look positively catatonic for a second, unmoving. The sound of you raking in a shaking breath scares you as you bring yourself to speak. Your face doesn’t match your attire, as you sport a sweater with a giant pink heart in the center and small heart-shaped earrings hanging from your ears. 

“They were in here,” your voice is soft and hoarse. “They were in here, everywhere. They left roses everywhere. They were in here! They got into my apartment and left dozens of rose petals on my bed, floors, couch, and kitchen table!” Your voice raises in volume as you cut yourself off, a small tear rolling down your cheek. 

“Something isn’t right,” You were shaking your head and letting out fast breaths, on the verge of hyperventilating. “This is all getting so,” you raise your hands to run through your curls, pulling gently. “I need you to find me. I’m doing so much already. I went to the police station, and they searched everything: cameras, streets, but there was nothing! Just petals!” You yell softly, voice rasping softly at the end of your outburst. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” you mumble softly, tears filling your eyes. 

Tape #7- February 17, 20XX

You smile awkwardly at the camera and hold up Jane Eyre, opening it to a dog-eared page. “You are my sympathy --my better self --my good angel.” You read off the quote softly with a light sigh at the end of your reading. 

“Seems like we have a Brontë fan in our midst,” you try to be light-hearted as you set the book to the side. 

“I wrote down all my passwords, but it's not like you’ll need them. Nonetheless, you can never be too safe.” You quip the sentence in a soft voice. 

“I’m trying my hardest not to do anything crazy. I just, nevermind.” You say, annoyance thick in your voice as you shut the camera off quickly. 

Tape #8- March 2, 20XX

A terrible gnawing was growing in your stomach. Your hands clutched your waist gently as you leaned back in your chair. You felt like you might be sick as you stared off-camera toward your newest ‘gift.’ Your throat felt taut as you swallowed, a shaky sigh coming from your lips as your pale face looked at the camera. 

“I’m scared this might be my last video,” you say, your voice hoarse and tense, “It all just suddenly stopped. There was no more red van, no more gifts—nothing to write home about, but today,” 

You lean over to pull a pair of white, blood-soaked panties from a plastic bag into the frame. “These were on my door knob today when I got home. I tried not to touch it. I put it in this bag to ensure I didn’t contaminate it more. It doesn’t look like blood blood, more like period blood.” As you throw the bag back to your desk, your voice edges into an emotional tone, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

 “I think that they’re mine,” You cried softly, shaking slightly as you tried to control your breathing, “Th-the panties, not the blood. I haven’t, those can’t be from my period. Mine hasn’t come y-”

“I’m not going to be okay. I was stupid to think I might be, but I’m not!” You cry into your hands, and your shoulders shake as you let out a weak sob. “Please find me if I go missing. Please,” Tears fall on your cheeks as you lean toward the computer. 

“I need you to find me.” 

March 5, 20XX. 

A clicker is in J.J.’s hand as she turns off the videos. “Richmond PD sent this over this morning when twenty-eight-year-old Y/N L/N didn’t show up to her job,” She hands out folders as she speaks, “Her coworker called her mother to see if she had gone out of town when she said no. Y/N’s coworker’s boyfriend called a cop friend to check her apartment and found no trace of her or anyone else in her apartment. They sent this video folder over the second he called it in.” 

Spencer was frowning as he flipped through the pages of your file, hating the idea that you knew. He knew that dread, that feeling when something bad was about to happen to you. That innate and raw feeling that pushes through a person like a wave. He opens his mouth to say something, but Hotch is already speaking before he can get the chance to. 

“We leave here in ten,” He says before leaving the room, cutting everyone’s comments short in one small miraculous moment. 

Within ten minutes, the team finds themselves away from their jet, stuffed into groups in black SUVs, barreling toward Richmond. 

[honeydippedwaffles]

Smallest Drop

Summary: Tav overhears Astarion complaining about their situation and decides to do what she can to make it a little better for him and she ends up surprising him in the process.

Tav isn't referred to by name. There might be a part 2 if this is well-received.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 1.8k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

It started when she overheard a passing comment from behind her, grumbled in response to something Lae’zel said.

From the earliest parts of the day, they’d been making their way through difficult terrain; surrounded by thousands of bugs and mud up to their ankles. She’d tried not to complain about it though Astarion never shared her focus on quiet suffering and he had a fair point.

Though they’d managed to set up a fairly comfortable camp outside the grove – not wanting to impose nor deal with the druids for too long – they hadn’t really found any chance to properly bathe since their abduction.

The late afternoon glinted into her eyes as an idea presented itself.

She slipped away from the group almost excitedly to find the abandoned house where she’d spied it not long ago. After making sure it contained no nasty surprises, she’d left. It didn’t really have a roof and the majority of it had been burned down by some form of magical fire but most importantly, it had a tub.

One night together shouldn’t have made her so weak for the elf but despite all his sweetened words and falsities, he captivated her attention. She knew he meant little by it but sometimes those words made her days brighter regardless.

And she wanted to return the favour given how the muddy path came from her badly thought-out route.

The river running close by provided her with clean and cool water, not the easiest to move in large amounts but still able to fill the tub. It didn’t leak (a minor miracle) and she managed to use a little more of her already-exhausted magic to get a few charms warming the water up.

She smiled at her work proudly and left the charms to do her work while she made her way back to the grove to get some soaps.

Her shoulders shook a little as she eyed her small surprise. Proud and excited, she now faced the greatest of tasks.

Encouraging Astarion to actually step away from camp.

“No, thank you,” he said, dismissed her with the casual wave of a hand. “I’ve had quite enough traipsing through the forest for one day. If you want to continue finding every possible swamp insect to attack you, you’re welcome to be my guest.”

She sighed. “But I have something to show you. It’s a surprise.”

He smiled, strained. “My, aren’t you a desperate little thing. Maybe I’ll join you a little later in the night but for now, I’m afraid I don’t have the energy or the interest.”

“No, it’s not…” she groaned. “It’s just a bath, alright? I overheard you complaining about being dirty earlier so I found one for you.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes. Come along. Those runes aren’t going to last forever and I know you’re going to fuss about the water temperature.”

Astarion chuckled and she immediately knew he didn’t believe her. “I appreciate the creativity, darling. Really, I do, but you’ll find direct offers are far more effective on me.” He leaned closer and she became suddenly aware of how many eyes watched them from around the camp. “But if you’re really going to such lengths, I’m not going to deny you forever.”

Flushed, she stepped away and ducked her head. “Fine. I’ll use it myself but you better not complain once more about it.”

She ignored the slightly concerned expressions of her friends as she stormed back into the tree line by herself. Why she even thought he’d appreciate it… she shouldn’t have even bothered offering it to him. She really needed to be more selfish if she wanted to not get turned down by the vampire spawn again.

It stung more than she expected it to, even if she wasn’t offering anything more than an actual bath.

She brushed her fingers over the surface of the still-warm water when she got there and sighed. It still felt like a waste, even if she used it. Amazing how homesick she’d grown for her house when stuck out in the wild with nothing more of comfort than a single bedroll.

Maybe she should have stolen one of those beds from the goblin den they cleared.

The floor creaked and her hand flew to her weapon, spun around only to find a very arrogant elf who appeared annoyingly surprised.

“My, so it wasn’t even a ploy alone,” he said. “You genuinely managed to find a bath. I respect your dedication if nothing else. There are certainly easier ways of seeing me undressed.”

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the water. “I was trying to do something nice for you but as you’re not interested, feel free to return back to camp.”

He stepped close enough to brush his fingers against her cheek. “Whoever said I wasn’t interested?”

“You did. In very direct words.”

“Well, things change. I’ve decided you’re quite right. It’s been far too long since I got to wash and you’ve been so sweet, setting it all up for me. I couldn’t be rude and turn you down right now, could I?”

Cursing the elf beneath her breath for his indecisiveness, she moved to walk past him. “Enjoy.”

Once again, she surprised him and Astarion took a second to respond, calling to her as she reached the edge of the charred flooring.

“You’re not joining me?”

She looked back at him. “Am I meant to be?”

“Why, yes. I can hardly be expected to do things like washing my hair all by myself. What if I get lonely or attacked?”

She frowned at him but he kept smiling at her in the same insistent way he did when he wanted something. The corner of his lips pulled up as though he knew a joke and didn’t want to share it. She couldn’t help herself but relent under his burning gaze; he’d done the same thing when she’d agreed to let him drink blood from her throat. Perhaps she should be concerned with where her willpower went when it came to this man.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll help with your hair if you really need.”

“How fun.”

He insisted on being as distracting as possible when he got undressed. His constant glances at her met nothing in return but she couldn’t help glancing at the scars as he lowered himself into the tub.

Their ridges made her uncomfortable. Not knowing what it said frightened her for Astarion’s safety rather than her own.

Nothing good ever came from runes carved into flesh.

“There’s no need to act so shy, beautiful. You’ve seen me in far more compromising situations than this.”

She wouldn’t call their night together compromising but she ignored the comment regardless. His soft sigh of relaxation as he settled into the water worked wonders for clearing up her irritation.

How he managed to be so magnetic astounded her. She found a spot to sit behind him and slowly, gingerly, began to help him with his hair. Despite being ridiculously soft considering how long they adventured in the wilderness, it needed some careful care and attention.

She took care to stay gentle when she found where tangles turned into knots and worked them free without pulling. He gave a small hum when she had to give a soft tug and she took it as an okay to use a little more force.

“We don’t have much to work with but I did manage to get some things from the grove,” she said. “It won’t be up to your standards but I don’t think anything really is.”

Cagey about his past, all she knew surrounded the small snippets he gave her when upset or ranting. She doubted he’d ever had much time to fuss over which hair products he used, too busy watching over his shoulder for a constant threat. He still did so now when he thought nobody could see. His meditation never held him deeply as sleep took her.

“Regardless of whether or not it’s professional, I won’t complain about your skills with this.”

“Skills at detangling your hair?”

“At winning my favour.”

She frowned a little and focused on the white locks where they curled between her fingers. “I’m not only doing this because I want to impress you.”

“I’m sure you have other motivations,” he hummed, teasing. “But you know you’re more than welcome to join me whenever you’re ready. You chose a good-sized tub for both of us.”

She ignored him again, instead focusing on working out a tight knot. Once done, she encouraged him to lean back a little so she could massage the soap gently into his hair, rubbing soft circles against his scalp until his eyes fluttered closed and the smallest hint of relaxation showed in his expression.

Good. He carried far too much tension and she stopped herself from continuing the slight massage down to where she could see the stress in his neck and shoulders. How uncomfortable it must be but she didn’t want to encourage whatever strange idea he had about this situation.

Still, even if she hadn’t planned anything, she couldn’t deny her attraction.

She wanted to press her lips to the pale skin of his neck and trace the path of the water droplets as they pooled against his collar bone. She wanted to trail her hands over his sides and pull him close.

She coughed to stop her thoughts before they ran too far.

If the parasite in her skull didn’t kill her soon, she may just die from the way this elf made her heart pulse unnaturally fast.

“Everything alright?”

He sounded… well, still as flirtatious as ever but more concerned than she thought he would. She snapped her attention back to him and almost lost herself in those stunning eyes.

If she wanted to, she could so easily fall prey to his sweetened words and he really wouldn’t mind. He would encourage it even.

She finished washing the last of the soap from his hair and stood up somewhat uneasily. Pride still shone in her chest as he sat up properly, appearing far cuter than she anticipated with his hair falling flat against his skin.

She saw the invite on his lips before he even said it. Watched him flick whatever switch he had to draw her in and she hurried to leave.

“I’ll see you back in camp, alright?”

His confused expression followed her as she stepped away from the building but he didn’t call her back. She found her way back to camp with a slight heave to her chest and a desperate need for a distraction.

Though she really should have thought it through before she asked Lae-zel to spar with her. The bruise kept her up for the entire night – long enough to realise he didn’t come past for a taste of her blood in the evening.

[girlboypersonthingy]

Hiii new anon here! Is it possible to request the Hazbin Hotel boys with a wheelchair user reader? (It’s alright if not! I love your writing so much! Keep it up! 💖)

Hellooooooo new anon 💋 thanks for the request! And THANK YOUUU ILYSM AAAHH 💖🥹 you guys have really been hyping me up. AND IM AT 40 REQUESTS RN LIKE ??? HELLO HI WHAT IS HAPPENING 😵‍💫 I hope I did okay on this…enjoy~

Notes: gn!reader, sorry this is short :(

TW: lap sitting, other than that just fluff :)

Hazbin boys x wheelchair user!reader 🎀

Lucifer 🍎

Often tries to push you around everywhere. He just wants to help but if that bothers you, he’ll happily give you space to wheel yourself around.

Will still do other things to help you out too like open doors for you, adjust tables so you can sit at them comfortably, goes to get you something you might have forgotten just so you don’t have to push yourself all the way back to it.

Sorry but he’s gonna very randomly and very frequently sit in your lap. He likes it, it’s comfy and it’s always right there fully open for him. He’ll just fall into your lap, wrap his arms around your neck and nuzzle his face up to yours.

Very helpful with other things you may need help with like reaching things that are too high up or assisting you when you need to get out of your chair for any reason.

WILL ABSOLUTELY PICK YOU UP AND CARRY YOU SO TIGHTLY AS HE FLIES YOU TO WHEREVER YOU NEED TO GO

“Luci, babe…this is kinda extravagant, don’t you think? I just needed to go talk to Husk, I can get myself there just fine.”

“Yeah, but I get to touch you this way~”

What a flirt, omffggg ❤️‍🔥

Angel Dust 🕸️

So many dirty jokes and horrible pickup lines.

“Oooh, best seat in the house~” as he sits on your lap before covering your face in giggly kisses

“Yeah, I think they fucked up their legs fallin’ for me.”

“Fuck you, Angel!” And now he’s cracking up laughing while also apologizing.

He’s actually kinda a worry wart so he’s gonna check up on you a lot. He knows you’re strong and brave and you’re used to this by now but he can’t help but worry about you all the time.

He knows you can handle yourself but he worries about others picking on you and taking advantage of your disability

His fav pastime is sitting in your lap while you wheel yourself as fast as you can down the long hallways of the hotel

Sitting in your lap while you do wheelies gets him squealing with laughter

He also offers to push you pretty much every day and if you say yes, he happily takes over while you sit back and relax. If you say no, he totally understands and follows along beside you still.

Very much understands any boundaries you have about you and your mobility. Hes a consent king okay?

Although he never asks before he grabs the handles of your chair and yanks you all the way back until you’re nearly parallel with the sky, then he smirks down at you before leaning in for a hot and passionate kiss. Not too long later, he sits you back up to your regular position and continues on his way, leaving you a blushing mess with your heart beating so hard you think you might die again.

And he never gets over the shocked face you wear every time he does that. He loves that shit 🩷

Husk 🃏

Okay this guy is so nonchalant about it like “okay cool…and?”

He sees that you are used to this, that you handle this with such grace and skill. You impress him everyday and he adores youuu~

Will often offer to help you up on the barstools if your chair is too low to reach the bar.

Holds doors for you, always runs to push the elevator button for you, just likes to go out of his way to be a gentleman for you.

Even if you insist you don’t need his help, he’ll argue, “Baby, you’re my partner. I think my love language is acts of service or some shit like that. I dunno, I tried to read the book and got tired. But I love ya so you’re just gonna have to get used to me and how I show love. Trust me, I’d do this stuff no matter what.”

He’s honestly just such a polite and considerate guy when it comes to you. He doesn’t never mean to be overbearing or treat you different, he just wants you to be comfortable so he always tries to push you around.

“Husky, I can push myself.” You sigh as he takes hold of the handles on your chair and brings you along to the bar with him.

“I know you can.” And he’s just smirking from behind you as you roll your eyes.

And his pace will slow for a sec as he leans over to kiss the top of your head.

He just really loves when he’s pushing you and he sees your head tilt back and your shoulders relax- you just seem calm

Sir Pentious 🐍

Homeboy is absolutely gonna try to invent and build cool shit for you. Mostly just cool add-ons to your chair like something to make it smoother or faster or more sturdy or even add a cup holder? Idk

If you ask him not to push you around, you will not have to tell him twice 🫡 he respects you and your boundaries

Buuttttt he is often seen resting one hand on the handle of your chair as he slithers along beside you throughout the hotel

He just wants to be touching you in some way and touching your chair is enough for him.

Loves to come bounding up to you with exciting new projects he’s working on and will wrap his entire self around you as he shows you his work

“Pen? Can you push me back to my room? I’m just so tired…” you ask him after a long day of helping out around the hotel therefore a long day of pushing yourself around.

He’s actually so excited and full of love rn, like he’s beaming with joy as he nods and rushes to you.

“Yesssssss, my darling! Anything for you~”

And he’s so fucking careful with you- we all know Sir Pentious is a clutz and a goofball but he is so extra cautious when pushing you around.

Makes sure not to bump your feet or knees or any other part of you into anything.

Goes sooooooo slow over any bumps, humps or ledges.

Asks like 457 times if you’re okay and smiles everytime you say “Yes, babe. I’m good. Thanks.”

Vox 🖥️

Does not mean to offend but he tells you he would happily build something that could have you up and walking with ease.

If you’re down to try, he’s more than happy to experiment!

If you’re more than happy staying in your chair, he completely understands but still tries to give your chair some upgrades.

Adds a phone to your chair so you can always contact him

Also watches your every move everywhere you go through his cams bc he doesn’t want some dickhead to think they can take advantage of you

Loves when you come into his work room where all his screens are bc it’s a bit crammed in there so it can be hard to get your chair around. Therefore, Vox loves to pick you up and sit you in his lap while he works.

He’ll press soft kisses to your neck and let his claws travel up and down your arms as you melt into him

And when you finally ask to go back to your chair, it turns into a playful fight.

“Aww, (Y/N). I was just getting comfy. What if I just keep you here.” As he hugs you tight, speaking in a teasing tone.

“Vox, I swear to Satan! You better put me back in my chair right now or-“

“Noooo~ I don’t think so.”

And he just continues to enjoy your company even as you pout and huff.

Alastor 🩸

Always uses his shadow or his tentacles to lift you up and whisk you around.

Doesn’t ever really ask for permission or even warn you before he picks you up and carries you to and from your chair.

“Oh! Alastor. I can do it on my own. Really, I’m fine.”

“Nonsense, sweetheart. The pleasure is all mine. What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t assist my love with getting around?”

He doesn’t have much of a filter, nor does he understand boundaries or personal space

So he will just grab ahold of you and wheel you around to his hearts content regardless of your protests.

One time, he unexpectedly rolled you up to his radio tower, wearing a particular cheery smile.

“Come, dear! I’m just about to start my podcast. Care to join me~?” He holds his hand out to you from across the room, waiting for your okay

As you give him a nod, his shadow lifts you and carries you to him as he sits at his desk, you being lowered down onto his lap soon after.

“Lucky you! Up close and personal for tonight’s show. Aww, and look at those flushed cheeks! What a doll you are~”

Alastor loves to sit you in his lap and then make fun of how flustered you get. It doesn’t happen often, him getting all close and touchy with you so when it does happen, you always panic and start stuttering.

He really gets a kick out of you being in a less than ideal situation and not being able to get out of it without him letting you. He’s a sick fuck, what’d you expect? He does it out of love~ ❤️‍🔥

[potentialguybodyswaps]

Brother body part swap part 2:

Oh man, my brother is such a dumbass, and now I get to keep his, I mean my new awesome big cock, I get he was trying to be helpful and make me happy, but how dumb could he be?

It started a few days ago when I got kinda self conscious after hanging out with my friends smoking pot, talkin about all the girls we fuck, when in actuality I don’t fuck many, kinda been hurt too many times when they make fun of my dick size….

After my friends left, I sat down with my bro who was high as a kite watching Tv

I asked him “hey Christian, I have a question for you”

“Yuh” Christian said not breaking focus from the tv and looking like a zombie

“How old were you when you first got laid” I said clasping my hands together and leaning in, trying to look like I was focusing on the tv and not his answer

“17”

“And how big is your dick?”

“Um about 9 inches… um you?” He said tilting his head to try and look at me

I wasn’t ready for him to fire back a question like that, I don’t wanna lie but I don’t want him to make fun of me if he’s actually 9 inches, bro must have gotten the good genes in the family

“Um, 7 myself. Why do you ask?” I said feeling like a fraud for lying

“Bro chill, I don’t care, you asked me first after all, what’s the problem, something wrong?” He said finally breaking from trying to make eye contact with me and faced the tv again

“Um, I mean, kinda I guess… some girls I’ve been with kinda think I’m small” i said sinking into the couch feeling embarrassed

“Nah bro, your good, I mean your pretty good looking, no homo. And 7 inches isn’t small, bigger than average, she’s probs just a college slut, there’s always someone bigger. Now let’s just watch the rest of this, and finish the season haha” my brother said laughing referring to the show we’re watching, Rick and Morty, what a fit show for a smoking session might I add

“… wait you think I’m good looking?” I said smiling trying not to blush for some reason “haha thanks bro, just one more question what’s your body count, like how often do you get laid?”

“Uh like 2 or 3”

“2 or 3!? Times or girls?” I said shocked from what I herd

“Times bro, now shut up we can talk about this later dude” he said annoyed that I kept bothering him

I was quiet for the rest of the episode and decided to go up to my room after that figuring that’s the most I could get out of him without it being weird. I mean it was already weird but I didn’t want it to be anymore

I ended up falling asleep pretty early that day sense me and my brother actually go to the same college, we both gotta get up early so he can drive us both there

I wasn’t asleep for long when I herd a knocking at my door

I sat up letting my hair dangle in my face and just pulled my phone out that way I could play games or whatever when whoever walks though the door decides to talk to me

Chris opened the door a little bit and stuck his head in

Ultimately he was just checking in on me asking how I was doing and eventually came in having one of those brotherly talks where he basically just tells me he cares about me, that he’s here if I ever need to talk, and how I’m his favorite little brother, when In reality I’m his only little brother…

We started talking about my problems and I broke down a little bit completely throwing myself onto my bad trying to hide my face so he couldn’t see I was about to cry

I told him I mainly just wanted a actual relationship but all the girls I do like dump me

He told me something along the lines of how he’s not like me, and was shocked this is what I actually want and how it seemed like me and my friends were playing a game of who could fuck the most girls

That just upsetted me even more cause I forgot for a moment about how I’m very good at making it seem like I’m a fuck boi that gets all the girls, when in reality all my one night stands, weren’t one night stands cause of my choice, they all decided 5 inches isn’t enough

Chris could see I was hurting on the inside from this, not knowing the actual reasoning why I can’t keep a girl, and told me that most of his girlfriends always thought I was the cute one, he then proceeded to ask if I wanted him to try and hook me up with one of them

“Ya” I said trying not to let my voice break

“Ok, I’ll start work on it tomorrow” Christian said walking out

The next day came and went as usual, however Christian did tell me I had a date with his Ex Beth in like 2 days! That’s not alot of time to prepare but I think he purposely set it up cause that’s my birthday, must just trying to be cheap and call my date a gift or something

I spent the whole rest of that day and the next telling Christian all my ideas for my date and asking questions like what did she like

Chris told me “just be you, maybe hang out for a little bit, dinner if she gets hungry, perhaps take her out to the lake and go for a swim”

I asked Chris “ how are we gonna get there? It’ll be pretty weird if you have to drive us, even more pathetic if she has to drive us” I said annoyed

I saw chris roll and eyes and reach into his pockets pulling out the keys to his mustang and tossing them to me

“Duh bro you can borrow my car I guess while you go on your date, don’t fucking scratch it tho, you know mustangs aren’t cheap” he said all seriously

“Seriously bro? Your gonna let me drive the stang? What’s the catch, why are you being so nice all of a sudden” I said squinting my eyes at him

“No reason bro, it’s your birthday, that’s like 1 of the 2 days a year I legally have to be nice to you, what you don’t wanna drive it?” Christian said raising an eyebrow to me

“No!, No!, I do! It was just a question that’s all” i said back peddling trying not to get him ask for his keys back

“Listen we can talk more about this tomorrow ok?” I said tossing him back the keys

Me being the stoner I am I proceeded to go back to my room and get high so I can fall asleep and wake up sooner to start enjoying my birthday

As always I’m typically the first one out the door but this morning I almost tripped over a packaged addressed to Chris

I opened back up the front door and yelled “Chris there’s a package here for you! On the step” And the. Proceeded to go back to the car

Once inside I kinda just closed my eyes and tried falling asleep again, sleeps one of my favorite things and I’ll take every minute I can get of it

For some reason my feet got super tight in my shoes but I didn’t think much about it just kicked them off so it quit distracting me from taking a few minute nap

After a bit I could hear my door open and a pair of shoes and keys were tossed on me

“Your driving” I herd a voice say

I looked up was shocked to see my own body wearing my clothes

“Bro what the fuck! Why am I looking at myself” i said frantically trying to pull the sun visor down just to be greeted with my brothers face instead of mine

“Holy shit! I’m you now Christian, how did this happen!?” I said feeling my face thinking I was still asleep

In the corner of my eye I could see my brother reach into his hoodie and pull out a necklace dangling it around his neck

“Remember the necklace you wanted” he said still jiggling the necklace around

“Ya and you got it? And it actually works!?” Holy shit bro this is crazy” I said unbuttoning my jeans so I can check his dick out

“Aye bro, I think you forgot a part” I said looking at him disappointed

“Nah dude, I just felt like it’d be weird to swap that, now anyways get up your driving.” Chris said standing there waiting for me to get up

I stood up, putting on his shoes and walked over to the driver side and started the car. Not gonna lie, really weird being in my brothers body, like carrying the weight feels weird, we both weigh almost the same but since Chris is taller I’m way skinner now than in my real body… but anyways I was really excited to drive my brothers car, I fucking love his car, I kinda have a thing for mustangs

I know it’s important to let your car warm up so I left it started for about a minute before I put it in drive and started heading to our classes

“So… um, how long is this gonna last? Or how long are we gonna stay swapped” i said trying to keep my eyes on the road

“Oh I don’t know, there was a instructions booklet but I don’t think we need that haha… aslong as you want bro, aslong as it’s within reason, so could be for a day, could be for a week or two, but I definitely don’t wanna be you for a whole month haha, guess you could consider this another birthday gift” said laughing checking his smile out in the side mirror

“Oh jeez, thanks bro, but you do remember I have that date tonight right?” I said a bit annoyed about the timing of the swap

“Well I mean we could always swap back after class. Or we could stay like this and I could go on your date for you maybe? That way I can do everything possible to make sure you get a 2nd date and continue seeing you, sense, ya know… you like to fuck up a lot haha” he said laughing at me

“Not funny dude, but ya dude I guess maybe it would be a good idea for you to go as me. You’d probably know what she would like and could probably seal the deal with her to date me” I said pulling off the main road and onto the campus looking for a place to park

“So we have a deal then?” Chris said holding a hand out

“Deal” i said shaking his hand

After turning the car off and opening the door to get out I herd Chris yell “Hope you have a good day CHRISTIAN” he said putting emphasis on his name, er I guess my name for now

“You too benji” I said also putting emphasis on his new name

I went to Chris’s class for the day and they were a lot harder than what I expected mainly the bullshit math and science ones that typically don’t have much to do with whatever major you pick

After school I waited by the car for my brother to come that way I can drive us both home and he can start getting ready his date

Chris was going though my whole closet looking for a outfit that was date worthy and when the time finally came for him to go pick Beth up, he came and grabbed the keys to the car

After he took the keys and left me in his room, I started looking at myself in the mirror slowly stripping looking at my boney figure

I mean Chris ain’t that bad looking but even he admits I’m the better looking one, I mean truthfully I don’t think I’d mind staying in his body, but only if I had his dick, that’s also assuming he’s not lying about being 9 inches hard haha, I know I’m no where near that, I’m really 5 inches and our dad is about the same so I doubt bro is even above 6

Wondering if it was possible a swap could be permanent I remembered Chris said there was a instruction book that he threw away cause who needs one for a fucking necklace

I found a little pamphlet in his trash and started reading it, really only 2 pages explaining how it works, how to do a swap, but after that there was a section explaining what to do if you want a swap to become permanent

The pamphlet said if you want a permanent swap all you have to do is jerk off since the magic in the necklace is holy magic, any sins done while swapped can break the magic link leaving it useless to those that used it. So things like sexual conduct before marriage, or even just jerking off was enough to break it

It’s a good thing I read this cause I was gonna jerk off but I don’t think I wanna be stuck as my brother, taller and skinner now but with the same sized dick I have, it kinda looks even smaller

I decided to get dressed again and started playing Chris’s Xbox looking for a good game to play, finally settling on over watch playing quick play not wanting to mess up his competitive score

About an hour and a half later, I was in the middle of the practice range testing out a new hero when I herd the door open, I paused it and turned around looking up to see my brother “how’d it go, does she still wanna go out with me?” I said

“Oh ya bro, it’s still not over, I’m just here to grab some shorts cause she wants to go down to the lake and go for a swim before it gets real dark… do you think it’d be wrong of me if I tried to fuck her on the first date?” He said grabbing a bag and putting some black shorts and some towels in it

“Nah bro, I mean it does sound like something I’d do, so she might be expecting it” i said not able to help giving him a sly smile

Chris ended up setting his bag down and went into the bathroom connected to his room, just then an idea struck me and I ran to my room grabbing a pair of my shorts and ran back taking his shorts out tossing them under the bed and stuffing mine in the bag

Just then chris came out the bathroom seeing me stuff something in there.

“What’s that” he said walking closer to grab the bag

“Uh… just some condoms, can’t be too careful right?” I said taking a step back trying not to seem suspicious

“Ugh ya thanks bro, stopping at a store to buy some might have been weird if she knew I was planning to do this haha” grabbing the bag and laughing while he walked out saying “see ya later bro”

After he left I couldn’t help but laughing to myself “oh man, I can’t believe I just did that, well I guess atleast now I I’ll know how big his dick is… although I suppose if he does fuck her once we swap junk, we’ll permanently be stuck like this, but I mean if he’s actually that hung and not lying, I think I could live with this, but fuck, I hate the fact that this is a gamble that he’s not lying about how big he is” I thought to myself

I went back to playing my game, going back to quick play, after like 5 or 6 games holding the controller in my hand resting them on my sweats, I started feeling someone brushing my hand, I lifted up both hands and saw a larger bulge than before

“Oh my god this is it, he put my swim shorts on” I thought myself backing out my game and getting up to go to the bathroom

I pulled my sweats down some and could see the large imprint on my underwear, I pulled those down too, to take a piss and was left almost speechless, bro looks as big soft as I do hard that’s insane haha

After getting done with taking I piss I went back to the room and took my pants completely off standing in the middle of the room in just my brothers underwear, I swapped into his early cause why not, not like I could actually swap anything myself

I pulled them down a little bit and grabbed my dick, thinking about how I have my brothers dick might be a little weird but the fact that it’s so much bigger is even hotter

It started growing in my hand and once fully hard I grabbed a tape measure and measured it, I just had to know

And sure enough he wasn’t lying, Chris actually does have a 9 inch dick, we’ll actually 9 inches and 1/4th

I started slowly jerking off at a pace that wouldn’t be able to make me cum, basically just edging and enjoying the use of my huge cock debating if I wanted to cum, I could be the nice brother and swap back with him, but at the same time he probably fucked his ex already, oh man she HAS to be disappointed, but at the same time I don’t wanna go back to disappointed women. But I might not have to, if he fucked her then that means we can’t swap back anyways, but if he hasn’t then that means I have to give him his dick and body back

I sped up my jerking and kept stopping short of cuming for over an hour continuing my internal debate, on whether or not I wanted to do this and keeping Chris’s body, trapping him in mine, like I said kinda hot we’ve swapped bodies entirely, the big dick is even hotter, but I don’t know if I could keep his body forever

Just then I herd a car door slam and I figured that was Christian pissed off, not having anymore time to debate, I sped up, hoping I’m making the right decision, sense I’ve been edging for over an hour it didn’t take long for me to cum now that I ramped up the speed trying to bust before he walks in on me jerking, probably took less than half a minute of me jerking furiously to finally bust sending giant ropes of cum flying out my dick, 6 or 7 ropes total flew out my dick landing a couple feet away and a few more smaller ones landing on my feet

Just as I was panting, about to wipe the tip of my head off and put it away, Chris walks in, i looked at him the moment he opened the door, looking like he was about to yell but went into shock for a few minutes at the site of me with his dick in my hand

“You didn’t!” He said loudly with my old higher voice

“I froze, uh uh uh, this isn’t what it looks like” i said panicking, I thought I’d have a few more moments before he’d come in

“Really? Cause it looks like you swapped my shorts out for yours, I come back after my date almost exploding after I told her I’m almost as big as my brother, which was a let down for her when she saw I’m only 5 inches hard! And walked in right after you got done jerking off in my body!” He said angrily

“Uh, uh, Im sorry just couldn’t help myself, when I noticed my dick didn’t feel right I decided to check it out and then I got hard from looking at this chopper and I just couldn’t help myself haha” i said trying to break the tension

“Whatever dude your lucky Beth still wants to go out with you, we’re fucking done with this swap, get out” he said grabbing some of his clothes and a beanie

I walked out smirking knowing what was gonna happen.

“Hold on,” I said stopping at the door “I thought you said we could stay swapped for a week or too”

“Ya well you forfeited that when you took my shorts and swapped them with your own, I told you I didn’t wanna swap junks with you, I mean who wants a smaller dick, not to mention balls. I didn’t wanna lose 2 inches and instead you forced me to lose 4! Now get out!” He screamed at me slamming the door on me

I went back to my room smirking and just laid on my bed waiting for him to realize swapping back wouldn’t work

I laid in bed for about 5 minutes when I herd a “WHAT THE FUCK” from across the hall and then stomping coming my way

“Oh? Did you change your mind?” I said trying to look shocked but failing to hide a creeping smile from popping up on my face

“No as you can see, I’m wearing my clothes but nothing happened, now help me get this dam necklace off” he said failing to get the necklace off

“Oh this is great, I mean might not be the best body to be stuck in but with a dick this big, I don’t mind giving up the cute brother title, atleast I’ll be the big dicked brother haha fucking sweat!” I thought to myself as I walked over and tried to unclasp the necklace to no prevail, I decided to pull it off breaking the clasp to the necklace

I decided to grab some of my old clothes and put them on before I decided to loosely tie the necklace around my neck so I was technically still wearing it

“Did you ever read the instructions” i said trying to hide a smile

“No, what would be so important about stupid instructions for a necklace” he said frustrated

“A magic necklace, and well in the instructions it says that part of the magic is if you desire to keep your parts you have, all you have to do is cum, ether jerking off or sex, whatever gets you to blow” i said with a full blown shit eating grin now as I saw realization Dawn upon Chris’s face

“And well you already had sex with Beth in my body right?” I said

“Ya” he said changing facial expressions from confused to horrified

“And I already jerked off right before you got back. Which means nothing is probably gonna happen” i said

We waited in silence for a couple minutes before he finally snapped

“So you knew if you jerked off we wouldn’t be able to swap back!? What the fuck is wrong with you dude? Now we’re stuck like this! We gotta find a way to swap back, I don’t wanna be known as the small dick little brother” Chris said with tears in his eyes

“Let me reiterate something you said to me not long ago. “” who wants a smaller dick”” well not me, when I saw you weren’t actually bullshitting about having a 9 inch dick, I decided I don’t actually mind having your body. Knowing you probably would try and bang your ex in my body, I decided to seize the opportunity and jerk off in your body, just to seal the deal in case you didn’t fuck her, just so I can keep this” I said putting my hand in my pants and fondling my dick and balls

“I mean not to mention even if I didn’t swap our shorts out, sense you fucked her we’d still be stuck but then you’d be hung in my body while I kept my shrimp dick in yours, it kinda looked weird on me sense I’m skinner and taller now… so don’t be mad that you fucked up and made it permanent, I just took advantage and swapped the final thing out that way it’s a complete Bodyswap” i said

“I mean you don’t have to be known as the little dicked brother, your known as the cute brother now, you just happen to have a small cock now, so if I was you BENJI, I’d get use to being the smaller brother in more than one way, cause luckily for me, this is permanent now haha” i said laughing and putting emphasis on his name

#longoverdo

#fromthevault

[trashywritestrash]

Short and Sweet

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count: 853

Warnings: Best friend’s brother— is that a warning? This is just a short lil thing for Valentine’s Day

A/N: The poem and response in this came from Thomas Richardson’s “Gentleman’s Valentine Writer” which wasn’t actually published until 1828 but I needed ideas, okay? Also, I wrote this when Bridgerton was still the lead in the poll lol

Living beside the Bridgerton household had many advantages. Being close in age to Daphne gave you the perfect excuse to spend time with her. However, spending time with Daphne meant also spending time with the rest of her family, which allowed you to form a close bond with them all. One Bridgerton in particular being Benedict.

Benedict was a few years older than you, but within a perfectly reasonable range that made it acceptable for you to fancy him. How could you not? He was sweet and sensitive, but he had a playful side that brought joy any time you were fortunate enough to witness it. Although, you never dared to dream that Benedict might return your affections. You were the best friend of his younger sister, surely he would not think of you in that way.

Initially, you had been excited to be presented before the queen and sent out into society. But while Daphne had been deemed the season's incomparable, you had fallen into her shadow. You were happy to see your friend receive many visitors and gifts, but some days it would hurt to see a line of men outside her door while you waited in an empty sitting room.

Waking on Valentine's Day brought nothing but sorrow. It was only one month into the social season and you already felt that you were destined to become an old spinster. With no prospective husbands in sight, you would likely have to face a second season. You did not expect that you would receive any callers that day, yet you waited in your sitting room in a fine dress, as you did every other day. Your mother sat in a chair at the far end of the room, leisurely reading until something would happen.

Early into the day, your butler entered the room with a calling card in hand, "A Mister Bridgerton is here to call upon Miss Y/L/N."

"Send him in," You replied, feeling your chest constrict. It was possible that one of Daphne's brothers had come to pass along a message for her, but a gentleman visiting while you were accepting callers still brought you a shred of hope.

Moments later, you saw Benedict step through the doorway, holding something behind his back. He smiled, "I see I have gotten here before the rest."

You returned his smile, nervous, yet calmed by his presence. "I think you will find that the gentlemen are coming to your door today, not mine."

"Then they are fools and I am lucky to have you all to myself."

"What can I do for you, Benedict? I find it hard to believe you would be here as a suitor." You spoke the words in jest, but felt your throat tighten as you said them all the same.

Benedict's smile fell into confusion, "What is so hard to believe about that?"

Taken aback by the genuine confusion in his tone, you clarified, "I only mean to say that I would not have expected it."

"If that is the case, I hope that you find this to be a good surprise," For just a moment, you heard a bit of nerves in his voice as he tried to present a confident image. "Unfortunately, I cannot stay long. But I wanted to bring you these and to officially declare my affection."

Finally, Benedict moved the hand behind his back to reveal a beautiful bouquet of morning glory and myrtle. You smiled wide at the sight, "Thank you, Benedict. They're lovely."

Shortly after, Benedict had to take his leave, although he promised to come back the following day. Once he had left, you reached for a book on the language of flowers. You found that morning glories are used to represent affection, meanwhile myrtle is used to represent love and marriage. Learning that brought a blush to your cheeks, finding the meaning to be a little bold, but not unpleasant.

It was then that you noticed a small folded piece of parchment beside the flowers. When you unfolded the paper, you could see the painted design done in watercolors. A man and a woman stood beneath a tree, which was situated between a lovely cottage and a church. The image was small, but you could tell that the couple was you and Benedict. On the other side of the parchment was a simple note.

I boast not eloquence, dear Miss, Nor do I write exceedingly fine; Therefore, I bluntly ask you this-- Pray, will you be my Valentine?

As you looked down at the note, you felt your heart swell. You held it close to your chest, feeling as if you could burst from happiness at any moment. Your mother then looked up from her book. "What is that, dear?"

"It is nothing!" You responded quickly. Luckily, your mother did not push the issue further.

That night, you folded the note once more and placed it in the drawer of the nightstand beside your bed. As you attempted to fall asleep, all you could think of was that you could not wait to see Benedict again.

----------

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[comingdownwithme]

PLEASE I WANT MORE TICCIJEFF LORE I NEED TO HEAR MORE ABT IT!!!! IT SEEMS FUNNN!!!!

Ask and you shall receive! I don't have anything too concrete in regards to the silly lil background I made for this ship, so it's probably subject to change later (Especially since I haven't been caught up on the more recent updates on any of the Creepypastas' stories), but here it is anyways! (And have a stupid bonus doodle while we're at it because I couldn't help myself)

Basically, the Woods and Rogers family lived in the same neighborhood for most of their lives, and the kids met during some social event like some neighborhood party. Liu (8) was the first to spot Toby (10) and mentioned how weird he was to Jeff (13) , who- instead of taking it as a deterrent- walked up, told him bluntly that his lil brother thought he was a weirdo, and promptly introduced himself. Thus started a friendship filled with genuine care and sincerity alongside the usually teenage dumbassery! (With Liu being dragged along on occasion against his will)

Jeff was always patient with Toby. Even when his tics and stutters got bad he'd always stay by his side, made sure the other boy had someone he could talk to, someone who would listen, someone who even bothered to try and understand him. And Toby, in turn, would do the same, even when Jeff's own thoughts scared him on some days. The two were near inseparable as years went by, moreso when they continued on with school where Toby would be bullied or judged.

(If Jeff let the awful, curious temptation simmering under his skin let loose, sending a student or two to the nurse after a particularly bad insult, who's to say)

One day though, Jeff and Liu's parents made the decision to move to a better place when their dad landed a good job. They'd be able to go to some place bigger, get things they were never able to get, learn under a school that offers better opportunities.

Jeff would've been happy- especially since the rest of his family seemed to be- if he wouldn't be leaving his best friend.

The weeks before the move was tense, especially in the Woods' household. How the hell were you just supposed to leave a staple part of your life? To let go of something- someone who had been such an integral part of it?

(Would he be ok? How's he going to make it through school? Who's gonna talk to 'im when his dad is out again- God knows where?)

(If Jeff cared a little more, felt a little more than the average friend, who's to say)

Still, the duo tried to spend the time they had, tried to make sure Jeff would leave without any regrets.

When the Woods' boys were packing their last things into their car, the Rogers family standing aside, watching their close, family friends as they prepare their leave, the two teens promised they'd keep in touch.

Years down the line, a white-hooded monster would reminisce about better days as he held a cigarette between bloodstained fingers, wondering what might have been if they had just stayed. The maddening, burning pyre of grief and anger that fueled his bloody venture had simmered into a low, thrumming heat in his melancholy, and the man wondered what his best friend would've thought of him now after everything, after one tragedy after another turned him into something even he considers to be less than human.

Somewhere, deep in the woods, a man, haunted by the glimpses of a life he was never supposed to remember, grips his axe in a white-knuckled grip.

[physalian]

“How do I know if my story needs work or if I’m just being hard on myself?”

As I sit here accepting the fact that at 70k words into Eternal Night’s sequel while waiting for my editor for Eternal Night itself, that I have made an error in my plot.

Disclaimer: This is not universal and the writing experience is incredibly diverse. Figuring this out also takes some time and building up your self-confidence as an author so you can learn to separate “this is awful (when it’s not)” and “this is ok (but it can be better)” and “this isn’t working (but it is salvageable).”

—

When I wrote my first novel (unpublished, sadly), years ago, I would receive feedback all over the chapters and physically have to open other windows to block off parts of the screen on my laptop to slow-drip the feedback because I couldn’t handle constructive criticism all at once. I had my betas color-code their commentary so I could see before I read any of it that it wasn’t all negative. It took me thrice as long as it does today to get through a beta’s feedback because I got so nervous and anxious about what they would say.

The main thing I learned was this: They’re usually right, when it’s not just being mean (and even then, it’s rarely flat out mean), and that whatever criticisms they have of my characters and plot choices is not criticism of myself.

It did take time.

But now I can get feedback from betas and even when I hear “I’d DNF this shit right now unless you delete this,” I take a step back, examine if this one little detail is really that important, and fix it. No emotional turmoil and panic attack needed. I can also hear “I didn’t like it” without heartbreak. Can’t please everyone.

The only time I freak out is when I'm told "this won't need massive edits" followed up by, in the manuscript, "I'd DNF this shit right now". Which happened. And did not, in fact, require a massive rewrite to fix.

So.

What might be some issues with your story and why it “isn’t working”.

1. Your protagonist is not active enough in the story

You’ve picked your protagonist, but it’s every other character that has more to do, more to say, more choices to make, and they’re just along for the ride, yet you are now anchored to this character’s story because they’re the protagonist. You can either swap focus characters, or rework your story to give them more agency. Figure out why this character, above any other, is your hero.

2. Your pacing is too slow

Even if you have a “lazy river” style story where the vibes and marinating in the world is more important than a breakneck plot, slow pacing isn’t just “how fast the story moves” it’s “how clearly is the story told,” meaning if you divert the story to a side quest, or spend too long on something that sure is fluffy or romantic or funny, but it adds nothing to the characters because it’s redundant, doesn’t advance the plot, doesn’t give us more about the world that actually matters to the themes, then you may have lost focus of the story and should consider deleting it, or editing important elements into the scenes so they can pull double-duty and serve a more active purpose.

3. You’ve lost the main argument of your narrative

Sometimes even the best of outlines and the clearest plans derail. Characters don’t cooperate and while we see where it goes, we end up getting hung up on how this one really cool scene or argument or one-liner just has to be in the story, without realizing that doing so sacrifices what you set out to accomplish. Personally I think sticking to your outline with biblical determination doesn’t allow for new ideas during the writing process, but if you find yourself down the line of “how did we get here, this isn’t what I wanted” you can always save the scenes in another document to reuse later, in this WIP or another in the future.

4. You’re spending too long on one element

Even if the thing started out really cool, whether it’s a rich fantasy pit stop for your characters or a conversation two characters must have, sometimes scenes and ideas extend long past their prime. You might have characters stuck in one location for 2 or 3 chapters longer than necessary trying to make it perfect or stuff in all these details or make it overcomplicated, when the rest of the story sits impatiently on the sidelines for them to move on. Figure out the most important reasons for this element to exist, take a step back, and whittle away until the fat is cut.

5. You’ve given a side character too much screentime

New characters are fun and exciting! But they can take over the story when they’re not meant to, robbing agency from your core characters to leave them sitting with nothing to do while the new guy handles everything. You might end up having to drag your core characters along behind them, tossing them lines of dialogue and side tasks to do because you ran out of plot to delegate with one character hogging it all (which is the issue I ran into with the above mentioned WIP). Not talking about a new villain or a new love interest, I mean a supporting character who is supposed to support the main characters.

—

As for figuring out the difference between “this is awful and I’m a bad writer” and “this element isn’t working” try pretending the book was written by somebody else and you’re giving them constructive criticism.

If you can come up with a reason for why it’s not working that doesn’t insult the writer, it’s probably the latter. As in, “This element isn’t working… because it’s gone on too long and the conversation has become cyclical and tiring.” Not “this element isn’t working because it’s bad.”

Why is it bad?

“This conversation is awkward because…. There’s not enough movement between characters and the dialogue is really stiff.”

“This fight scene is bad because….I don’t have enough dynamic action, enough juicy verbs, or full use of the stage I’ve set.”

“This romantic scene is bad because…. It’s taking place at the wrong time in the story. I want to keep it, but this character isn’t ready for it yet, and the vibe is all wrong now because they’re out-of-character.”

“This argument is bad because…. It didn’t have proper build-up and the sudden shouting match is not reflective of their characters. They’re too angry, and it got out of hand quickly. Or I’m not conveying the root of their aggression.”

—

There aren’t very many bad ideas, just bad execution. “Only rational people can think they’re crazy. Crazy people think they’re sane,” applies to writing, too.

I just read a fanfic recently where, for every fight scene, I could tell action was not the writer’s strong suit. They leaned really heavily on a crutch of specific injuries for their characters, the same unusual spot getting hit over and over again, and fights that dragged on for too long being unintentionally stagnant. The rest of the fic was great, though, and while the fights weren’t the best, I understood that the author was trying, and I kept reading for the good stuff. One day they will be better.

In my experience beta reading, it’s the cocky authors who send me an unedited manuscript and tell me to be kind (because they can’t take criticism), that they know it’s perfect they just want an outside opinion (they don’t want the truth, they want what will make them feel good), that they know it’s going to make them a lot of money and everyone will love it (they haven’t dedicated proper time and effort into researching marketing, target audiences, or current trends)—these are the truly bad authors. Not just bad at writing, but bad at taking feedback, are bullies when you point out flaws in their story, and cheap, too.

The best story I have received to date was where the author didn’t preempt with a self-deprecating deluge of “it’s probably terrible you know but here it is anyway” or “this is perfect and I’m super confident you’re going to love it”.

It was something like, “This is my first book and I know it has flaws and I’m nervous but I had a lot of fun doing it”.

And yeah, it needed work, but the bones of something great were there. So give yourself some credit, yeah?

[youcalledmebabe]

my favorite bits of web lore from parachute infantry:

he was a new deal democrat and voted for the first time during the war. “I had to walk almost 2 miles to cast my ballot, but I would have walked 10, if necessary, because this was my first vote—I was 22 in June—and I had always wanted to cast it for Roosevelt, the greatest president we had ever had, and the only one who ever gave the working man a break.”

he describes Doc Roe as having “a warm, brave heart.” has anybody ever considered webroe…? there’s about as much basis for it as webgott, historically speaking 💀

he seemed to have lone wolf tendencies. “Actually, I was quite happy to be on my own. Looking out for myself was something I always liked to do. It was the one thing I could do better than anybody else.” 

he was sooo dramatic. “I should have known better than to dream, for whatever dreams I might have had all ended when I was sixteen, and had run away to Gloucester to ship out on a fishing schooner. The schooners were diesel hulks, so I went back to school. That was the way my dreams always ended. The army was no different.”

noted fan of springtime. “It’s going to be an early spring, I thought, feeling a great relief. Maybe things will be better now; they are always better in the spring.”

believed in/was spooked by the stories of a ghost horse cart following them around the front. “It must be the ghost that’s followed us through Europe, I thought with a shiver, for the sound did not seem wholly real—who would have the nerve to walk a horse drawn wagon along the front in a city under such heavy artillery fire? …Some of the men used to speculate about it. They thought that it was the ghost of a supply cart that had gotten a direct hit, and that the driver was homesick for his old outfit. So every night he’d come back and visit his buddies on the line.” apparently Nixon also believed this… where my ghost story fics at?

allergic to change: “The essence of life is change, not stability, but I can’t get used to it; I want everything to stay the way it is.”

thinks the reason lieb is the way he is is because “he was from the far west.” he and joe actually have very little interaction at all and he doesn’t have much to say about him. Tom Hanks rpf is fine strikes again

was drunk on iced tea and gin all the time at the end of the war

gets so mad about doing a final parade when his points came through that he “was in a mood to bayonet babies and roast both colonels over small fires.” immediately after that says what he “planned for peacock was unprintable.” this is the final time peacock is mentioned… guess they never made up

he really hated the army and the Nazis in a way that I feel like the show dropped by the final episode. like I think the real web would’ve shot the guy on the mountain. but that’s a discussion I’d like to have later

anyway he was smart and funny and a good writer and so full of life and i’m very sad about what happened to him

[cuubism]

Made in an Instant

Dream's eldritch pregnancy part 4/5

Hob has picked up some books about taking care of babies, because he’s pretty sure whatever knowledge he’s retained from the 1580s is going to be a bit out of date in today’s world. He’s partway through one when there’s a tap on the window, and a moment later, Matthew squeezes through where it’s already open a crack.

Hopping onto the coffee table he says, with no preamble, “Hey, you got any sleeping pills?”

“Why, you need some?” Hob asks, closing the book.

“You need some,” Matthew corrects. “Luce sent me to get you. Says the boss isn’t feeling well.”

Hob lurches upright. “What? What do you mean, not feeling well?”

“That’s all she said.” Matthew flutters his wings anxiously. “Should probably just come along.”

“Matthew!”

But Matthew doesn’t give any more context to settle Hob’s rapidly spiking anxiety. He hops back onto the windowsill. “Sleeping pills!” he insists, and flutters back up to the Dreaming.

Like hell is Hob going to be able to sleep with that kind of omen. ‘Not feeling well?’ Is he sick? Is something wrong?

Hob’s mind goes unbidden to Eleanor, and he nearly drops the bottle of sleeping pills all over the floor in his rush to get them out. Fuck. Fuck.

Please be alright, he thinks, as he downs three pills and crawls into bed to let them, hopefully, take effect. Please.

--

He wakes in a dark dream space—not the palace. Not Dream’s bedroom, where he feared he’d find him ill or feverish or unconscious in bed, or worse.

It’s… not really much of a place at all, really. Sort of liminal, and dusk-colored, an unfinished dream. Dream is sitting on the floor, his long cloak wrapped around him like a blanket, watching something sort of like a screen, sort of like a window—an opening in the dream space through which golden light is visible, though it doesn’t quite spill through.

Hob stumbles over and falls to his knees beside him, takes Dream by the arm, needing to lay hands on him. “Christ, Dream, I thought you were ill. I thought something terrible happened.”

“No.” Dream’s voice is quiet. He doesn’t look over at Hob, just keeps watching the light. “Matthew and Lucienne are dramatic. I am merely contemplating.”

He doesn’t look like he’s merely ‘contemplating’. He looks sad. It’s in the lines at the corners of his eyes, the downturn of his mouth. And even as Hob watches, he wraps his arms tighter around his knees and rests his chin on them.

“What are you contemplating?” Hob asks softly.

“A dream,” Dream says. He’s still studying the golden window, but as Hob directs his own attention to it he can suddenly see that it’s not just light, it’s… a scene. Or rather, as Dream said, a dream. Whose dream, Hob’s not sure, but he gets the sense it’s not one Dream created, or at least, Dream may once have created the seed of it, but this is a dream as experienced by a dreamer.

“I do not observe dreams often,” Dream says. “I came to this one because I felt something awry.”

“What was wrong with it?”

“Nothing. The dream is perfect. What was wrong was…” he dips his face further down into his knees, looking small, “in me.”

Hob wraps an arm around him and pulls him against his side. Dream stays crunched up in his ball, shrouded in his cloak.

“I meant to leave,” he says. “Instead I find myself watching.”

At last Hob turns properly to the dream itself.

The way Dream’s watching in this non-space really does make it feel like peering in through a window. Within the frame is what looks like a fairly normal home, if idealized in the way of a dream—a homey kitchen with warm light and charming clutter, an adjoining sitting room with comfy armchairs arranged in a half circle around a fireplace. Very storybook, Hob thinks, but a real scene too, one you might walk in on in any happy family’s home.

As he watches, a figure comes round the corner into the kitchen—the dreamer, Hob supposes. She’s carrying a baby wrapped in a sling against her chest, and cradles it close as she goes about making up a bottle. The movements are practiced, familiar, and though the dream doesn’t have much sound the way they’re watching it, Hob thinks she might be humming to herself, or singing quietly.

It’s a sweet, simple little scene, and definitely relevant to their current lives, but Hob doesn’t get why it’s caught Dream’s attention so thoroughly. He hopes it’s not actually some kind of nightmare Dream’s using to enmesh himself in fears and worries about their baby’s future. It doesn’t feel like a nightmare. It feels like a happy dream, only Dream’s evidently seeing something else in it, based on how he’s reacting.

Having made up a bottle, the dreamer takes her baby into the sitting room, settling herself in one of the armchairs and sitting the baby up in the crook of her arm to take the bottle. The baby latches on eagerly, hands grasping at the bottle as he suckles, and the mother keeps singing quietly to him.

Hob still doesn’t get what he’s supposed to be looking at. It’s a very sweet dream, makes him feel sort of wistful, looking forward to those same peaceful moments when their baby arrives, those ordinary moments of daily life when—

Oh.

It’s not Dream’s daily life. It will never be Dream’s daily life, because Dream isn’t a human mother, because Dream doesn’t get to choose to prioritize his baby or his own wants, because he’s responsible for an entire kingdom and the whole dreaming world besides. If Dream were human Hob could give him that, could use all the money he’s hoarded over the years to let Dream take eighteen whole years of maternity leave if he wanted to, to spend time with the baby and do nothing else. But all the money in the world can’t change how it is to be Endless.

“I should not watch for so long,” Dream whispers. “My presence might turn the course of the dream.”

Hob could hardly give a fuck about the dream, honestly. If Dream stops watching it should be because it’s hurting him.

“I’m so sorry, love,” Hob says, pulling Dream in closer to kiss his temple. “I didn’t realize how upset you were about this.”

“I am not upset,” Dream says. “I am just thinking.”

“Sure.”

“It is the way things are. I have greater responsibilities. I should not covet what is not mine to have. It only makes things more difficult.”

“Dream—”

Dream moves away far enough to pull his robe aside. Underneath, he’s wearing only silk lounge pants, his chest bare. His belly bears a definitive roundness to it that was not there the last time Hob saw him, which was not long ago at all.

Hob touches the bump, mesmerized. “Dream…”

“I do not want this,” Dream says, voice ragged. “I do not want to be made to think about it. I made it go away but this dream has brought it back.”

When he touches the roundness of his belly, though, it’s not with revulsion, but with reverence. Hob’s heart breaks for him. Dream works so hard, and sacrifices so much, and now he’s here watching this idyllic dream moment between a mother and her baby, a moment he feels he can’t have.

“Come here, darling.” Hob pulls Dream into his arms, lets him twist his limbs around him and tuck his face into his shoulder. “Come here, sweetheart. It’s alright. You don’t have to make anything go away.”

“There is no point to it,” Dream says, voice muffled in Hob’s shirt. “It only serves as a reminder that— that I will no longer be able to have her with me. That I will have to let her go.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Hob says, though it’s somewhat of an empty promise. Dream’s life is shaped by things he has to do, he only manages to live in the little spaces left in between. “Tell me what you actually want.”

“Hob—”

“Do you remember what I said?” Hob asks. “When you thought I was upset about having her?”

“…Do not go unhappy without saying,” Dream echoes.

“Exactly. So tell me what you want. Not what you think you should have.”

“I want,” Dream says, low, “time. And. To be a better parent than I have been. To stay with her while she needs me. And.” He tucks his face in tighter against Hob’s shoulder, fingers twisting intricate patterns in Hob’s shirt. His voice goes softer. “You said that you wanted to take care of me.”

“I do,” Hob says instantly. “I would give you everything.” His heart aches to hear Dream’s voice so quiet and sad, and as Dream curls tighter against him, he decides, no, fuck this. Dream’s said what he wants, and Hob’s not going to let him go unhappy. The least Hob can do for him, when Dream does so much for everyone else, is make his dream real.

“Making a decision,” he says, with finality.

“What decision?”

“Maternity leave. We’re going home. You’re going with me. And I’m going to spoil and coddle you for the last however many months of this pregnancy. And after, too. I know you can’t stay forever, but you’re going to stay for a while, okay?”

“You will make me?” Dream murmurs, but with no ire. Rather, he sounds like he wants Hob to. “Hob, I cannot—”

“You can. It’s not for forever. The Dreaming will manage, I promise. You have to be okay for the Dreaming to be okay, remember?”

“Can I?” Dream says, more to himself than to Hob. Behind him, the dream starts to fade, the dreamer still rocking her baby as she slowly wakes.

“You can,” Hob insists. “Come on, darling. Let’s go home.”

He starts to try to wake himself up. It’s tough thanks to the sleeping pills, but eventually Hob feels himself start to slip from the Dreaming, Dream still wrapped in his arms—and Dream lets him, ceding into the Waking as Hob does, docile and sad. Christ. Hob’s got a lot of work to do.

Blinking awake in bed has him feeling like he’s been hit by a train, but he tries to shake it off. He’s got more important things to think about.

Dream’s appeared beside him, curled in Hob’s arms, head on Hob’s shoulder. Hob gives him a squeeze, kisses his cheek. Then urges him up. “Come on, love. Up. I’ll make you something to eat.”

Normally he’d let Dream rest, but Hob thinks it might be better to get him moving a bit, have some tea, pull him out of what he’s mired himself in. Limit the wallowing.

Dream allows him to draw him up, sit him on the edge of the bed, seems to gradually come awake as Hob wraps him in a cardigan. “Did you mean it? That I should stay for longer?”

“Of course I did.” He runs his palms over Dream’s shoulders, more to soothe himself than anything. Reassure himself that Dream is in fact, mostly, okay. “You should stay for as long as you want to, and I’ll take care of you. Actually, you should stay for longer than you want to, because I know you’re going to convince yourself you want to go back immediately.”

“I do not know how to just…” he gazes off over Hob’s shoulder, out into the living room. “Stay. And do this.”

“Then we’ll figure it out. For both of you.” Hob lays his hand over the roundness of Dream’s belly. He’s actually kept that. Manifested it in the Waking, too. Hob had thought he would just force it away again as soon as he was able. “Come on. Up you get.”

He brings Dream out to the living room, gets him sat on the couch with a blanket over his lap, makes him a cup of tea and some oatmeal—it seems a bit late for him to suddenly start getting morning sickness but Hob still sticks to bland foods for now—then sits beside him again, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Dream eats his food mechanically and then slowly sips his tea, holding the warm mug tight between his fingers. Gradually the tension in his shoulders seems to drop by increments. Hob rubs the back of his neck, and between his shoulder blades where he’s frozen up, and Dream lets out a long, shivering sigh, nearly dropping his mug as his muscles all spasm and then relax.

“You don’t have to go through it like this, love,” Hob says quietly, as Dream lets out a low, pained sound. “Pregnancy’s hard on anybody I’d bet, but we don’t have to make it harder.”

“Always you seek to make things easier for me, forgetting the reality of my nature,” Dream murmurs.

“Haven’t you realized by now that you’ve married a fool who thinks rules like that are bullshit?”

Dream cracks a small smile. “So I have.”

“Wasn’t expecting to get such easy agreement that I’m a fool, but—”

Dream turns and kisses him, leaning into Hob’s side and Hob’s hand on the back of his neck. Hob draws him close, sinking into his kiss. When they part, Dream rests their faces together.

“I want you to have what you want, you know,” Hob tells him gently. “Damn the rules. Damn your function. You’re worth more than that.” He lays his hand lightly over Dream’s belly, and Dream makes a soft sound, closing his eyes. “Both of you are.”

Dream sets his mug aside to grip Hob’s arms instead, leaning into his embrace. Hob kisses his forehead.

“I’ll take care of you both,” he promises.

“I believe you will,” says Dream.

“Good. Now. You’re not going to think about work. You’re going to sit there on the couch with my laptop and browse catalogues and let me know what baby clothes you want to spend all of my money on, what supplies you need to decorate the nursery like a gothic castle, and so on, and I’ll make you another cup of tea.”

He kisses the back of Dream’s hand, then does, in fact, get him situated on the couch with a pile of blankets, a laptop and a credit card—a dangerous proposition for Hob’s bank account, considering Dream’s general lack of awareness of the value of money, but Dream deserves to be spoiled for once and so Hob’s going to spoil him.

Later, after Dream’s happily purchased God knows what baby things—Hob didn’t look at the total, the credit card statement will be a fun surprise for later—Dream lies down with his head in Hob’s lap as Hob reads him a story. His eyes fall shut as Hob plays with his hair. He looks at peace.

This, of course, is when Matthew taps on the window.

Hob sighs as Dream sits up, shaking himself back to wakefulness. He wants to curse the interruption. Though, to be fair, he probably should have found a way to let Matthew and Lucienne know that Dream was alright. Whoops. Oversight.

He opens the window to let Matthew in.

“Boss!” says Matthew, landing on the couch beside Dream. “We were worried you were— whoa, you’re like, really pregnant!”

Dream raises an imperious eyebrow. “That was already the case.”

“Yeah, but now you’re— nope. Nope. Not gonna say anything. Don’t comment on people’s bodies. Shoulda learned my lesson as a human.”

“A wise choice,” says Dream. “It seems you’ve learned many things, Matthew.”

“Ha, ha. Well, I’m glad you’re okay either way. Are you, like,” he flutters his feathers, hesitant, “taking a break?”

Dream sighs. “It seems so.”

“Hey, good! That’s good. Bout time, right?”

“We think he’s going to take maternity leave,” Hob says. 

“So the baby’s… due… soon?” Matthew asks.

“Undetermined,” says Dream. He really is the primary cause of Hob’s stress.

“…Right. Well, um.” He lands on Dream’s knee, pushes his head against Dream’s arm in an affectionate gesture. “Enjoy, okay? The break I mean. Not the, like. Birth.”

Dream strokes two fingers lightly along the top of his head. “Thank you, Matthew. I shall.”

Matthew hops away again, shaking out his feathers. “And let me know when I get to meet the baby! I’ve never been an uncle but I’m sure I can manage it!”

And with a winged salute, he’s out the window again.

“An uncle,” Dream echoes, and Hob grins.

“What, you thought our baby would have a normal family?”

“I suppose I would rather Matthew than Desire,” Dream says, derision over the latter name. “Though I am wary of letting him babysit.”

“We’ll work all that out later,” Hob says. “Plenty of time, right?”

“Yes.” Dream frowns, then, looking off into the distance. “I… do not know, actually. It’s difficult for me to gauge the baby’s development, or exactly when we might expect her arrival. She is… fickle.”

“Even better that you’re taking a rest, hm?” Hob says. When Dream doesn’t reply, frown only deepening, he takes Dream’s face between his hands. “Hey, love. It’s alright, what you’re feeling. If you’re overwhelmed or— or scared.” Fuck, Hob is scared on Dream’s behalf.

“I am not scared,” Dream says, and for once Hob doesn’t think he’s trying to downplay his feelings. Well, he would know what’s going on in his sort-of-body better than Hob would. “I am just…” he looks off over Hob’s shoulder, considering. “Sad. That I will have to let her go, soon. And that I cannot be here for her as long as I would like to. I am… still dwelling on that dream.”

“Oh, love.” He pulls Dream close again. “You know I’ll make it as real for you as I can.”

Dream hums. “Might we go to bed?”

“‘Course.” Hob picks Dream up from the couch, which makes Dream squeak and cling to him. But in a moment he relaxes in Hob’s arms, laying his head against Hob’s shoulder. Hob feels a swell of affection for him. Okay, he can do this. He can coddle Dream.

He may not know exactly what he’s going to do when the baby arrives. But taking care of his husband is something he can do.

--

It feels easier after that. Dream is still tired, still sad at times, and Hob knows he’s thinking about after the birth, when he’ll eventually have to return to his responsibilities, have to let go of the dream Hob’s trying to construct around him. It’s hard for him to just be in a moment, he always has so many things on his mind. Sometimes Hob catches him looking at the baby monitor with an expression that almost makes Hob regret giving it to him in the first place.

But he catches him at peace, too. Sitting by the window with a cup of tea and a book, hand resting lightly on his belly. Taking long naps in bed, catching up on the regular sleep he undoubtedly doesn’t get. It’s not common for Dream to be at peace, so Hob doesn’t take it for granted. But the time off seems to be doing him some good. Slowly the perennial tension in him seems to unwind.

Hob, meanwhile, just likes having him around. He’s not used to having Dream all to himself all the time, and gets a little happy surprise every time he comes home and Dream is there. It makes him think on the dream that Dream had been mulling over, the mother with her baby. That fantasy of a simpler life where they could just be together without all the complications.

Neither of them is really that person. But it’s nice to think of, and he catches moments of it, during those fragile days.

Usually, he wakes with Dream lying beside him in bed, its own rare privilege that he doesn’t take for granted. On this morning, too, he wakes to find Dream across from him, studying him, their legs just brushing.

Hob yawns, shaking off sleep. “Have you been awake for a while?”

“One could say that I never truly ‘sleep,’ and therefore I am never truly ‘awake,’” says Dream.

“Pedant.”

Dream’s lips twitch up. Smiles have come easier to him since stepping away from his work. “I have something to tell you.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

Dream’s smile deepens. “Her name.”

If Hob was still sleepy at all, that wakes him right up. “She’s got a name already?” He feels a little hurt that Dream’s just decided this on his own, before realizing—

“As I did, before I came into existence. It is of her function and powers. A recent development, however, for this to be clear to me.”

“What is she then, darling?” Hob asks, heart pounding unexpectedly.

Dream says it more as a breath than a word. “She is Wish.”

Wish. A smile breaks out over Hob’s face. “That’s not an Endless power, then?” he asks.

“It is not so fundamental a concept as ours. But it holds its own form of power.”

“And comes from dreams, too,” Hob says, nudging him, delighted at the thought of it, and Dream nods. Then a thought occurs. “Wait, is that why Desire kept going on about being ‘auntie’? They could tell?” Desires and wishes can be somewhat similar, Hob thinks.

Dream sighs tiredly. “Desire insists that she takes after them. They are unreasonably smug about it. However, I believe that it is because of you.”

“Me?”

Dream’s smile curves up again and Hob gets the distinct sense he’s about to be made fun of. “You were wishing rather too aggressively to get me pregnant, were you not? Be careful of your fantasies, Hob.”

“Dream.” It’s mortifying to think of it that way. Dream’s not wrong, though. Hob had been fantasizing about it when they had sex. He just hadn’t thought the fantasies would become real.

“Wished too hard and created a wish,” he says, and Dream snickers. “Never a dull moment with you.”

“It is not only because of your fantasies that she is Wish,” Dream continues, a few moments later, “but also, I believe, because of your curiosity. Your constant interest in what the future holds. This too, I believe, is related to wishing.”

“I guess it is,” Hob says, wondering at it. He’d kind of figured the baby would take more after Dream, being sort-of-Endless and all. But who knows. He likes the idea that she might take after both of them.

“Well, darling,” he says, kissing Dream on the cheek, “I’m looking forward to meeting Wish.”

“She looks forward to meeting you,” Dream says, as if he’s truly passing along the baby’s own feelings, and maybe he is. He takes Hob’s hand and lays it over his stomach, so Hob can feel the swirl of Wish’s power, grown stronger since the last time he felt it. It’s still such a wonder.

He cuddles Dream close. Dream sinks into his touch, pressing their skin together. He’s truly taken to Hob’s coddling, and Hob wonders if he’ll be able to keep it up after the baby’s born. He hopes so. Dream will need that caretaking just as much then as he does now, even if he may not admit it.

In a little while he’ll draw him a bath, maybe, and suggest something for them to do together later that day. But for now he just holds him, and for a moment, everything feels peaceful, and simple, and good.

--

And then, just a few weeks later, Dream disappears.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine Shanks finding out you're a painter

You: *humming along to some music as you apply a fresh coat of paint to the wall of the galley*

Benn and Lucky Roux: *walk in*

Benn: Hey Kid.

You: Hey

Lucky Roux: Did you make sure to use the mold resistant paint?

You: Yes Roux.

Benn: And you applied the sealant before the paint?

You: *nods your head* And the primer, I got this man, thanks for checking in on me.

Benn: Alright then, I'm just gonna open this here winder to get some fresh air in here, so you don't get high off the paint fumes.

You: aww, but that's the best part.

Lucky Roux: *snorts* Let me know when you're done, so I can start dinner. Also, when you are done, you might want to put up a barrier, so none of the others accidentally lean on it.

You: I enjoy seeing them covered in paint. So I think they're gonna be in for a surprise, or at least the boss will be. Because I bet you a thousand berry that he's definitely gonna lean in the paint.

Lucky Roux: I'll take that bet.

Benn: I ain't, because he'll definitely gonna do it.

The next morning

Shanks: *Still annoyed that he got paint in his hair the night before* is this shit finally dry?

Benn: yeah, the kid didn't paint in straight lines though.

Shanks: what! But they're usually so meticulous about doing tasks perfectly.

Benn: it was on purpose too, take a close look.

Shanks: *leans in and glides his fingers across a floral design in the brush strokes* do you think they like painting?

Benn: I believe so, that, or they inhaled too much paint fumes and decided to have fun with it.

Shanks: both are possible... Didn't they repaint the hallway, and bathrooms?

Benn: yeah? They painted patterns there too.

Weeks later

Shanks: Hey (y/n) I got you something! *Presents you with a colorful variety of house paints, and a bunch of supplies*

You: ... Wow, that's a lot of paint, are you wanting me to repaint every room on the ship?

Shanks: no silly, for you to have fun with. We noticed the patterns you painted in the galley and thought you might like more colors.

You: but where would I paint?

Shanks: where ever you'd like.

You: *Kisses him on the cheek, scoops up the supplies, and runs to your room*, Thank you!

Two days later in the galley

You: I finished my room is it okay if I paint this wall now?

Shanks: Go for it.

Benn: *watches you run off* they painted their whole room you know.

Shanks: I saw, I was impressed they managed to paint such steady line work with the ship moving so much.

Benn: I think the little maze design the pained on their door frame was my favorite. Do you think they take requests?

Shanks: I dunno.

You: *pushes the box of supplies onto one of the tables*

Benn: is it okay if I asked you to paint something?

You: sure!

Yassop: Wait, you take requests! I want the pillar in my room painted.

The crew: *crowd around you listing off the things they want painted*

Shanks: Guys, let em breathe for fuck's sake! Make a list so they can start painting.

Lucky Roux: I ain't writing down my request because it's simple, don't paint any more realistic bug on the damn walls. I nearly shit myself when I saw the cockroach you painted in the bathroom, that was not a fun surprise at three in the morning.

You: only termite holes, got it.

Lucky Roux: (y/n) no! No termite holes.

You: fine fine, although the fact that the paint on that cockroach didn't even get to dry before one of y'all smacked it, is hilarious.

Shanks: no more realistic bugs, dear, in fact avoid painting realistic critters all together please.

You: ugh fine.

Shanks: I have a project I'd like you to paint, but I'll need to get you a canvas for it. *Winks at you and wiggles his eyebrows*

Benn: Gross.... if he's getting a nude I want one too.

Shanks: You want my nudes too?

Benn: I want a nude of myself, ding-dong.

List of Up-and-coming works

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