#i need SPACE !!!!! and i want at least 2 bedrooms so i can have one as an activity room or some shit

[thateclecticbitch]

Request to move into basement failed. Sad.

[orcelito]

Yesterday I started looking at houses for rent and got so sick with want that I had to stop. Lmao.

[kerink]

i want to talk about this idea the fandom has that curly didn't do anything to help anya. the fact of the matter is, curly didn't do anything to help anya on screen.

when we first join the conversation, anya's already told curly about the assault and is just updating him on her pregnancy status. we're never privy to what that first conversation looked like, what anya said or how curly responded or what decisions were made about it. but given that anya confided in him twice more about the situation (that she was pregnant and later that she had told jimmy), i have to assume his response to the initial assault disclosure was sufficient enough in her eyes that she knew she could continue confiding in him.

this exchange reads to me like "what to do about the assault" has been an on-going conversation between them, but curly has limited options to help her. but if he could figure out something to do, he'd do it.

let's look at the options available:

report it to HR. i don't think this option is very viable for a few reasons:

first, pony express doesn't seem to care about its employees. there aren't locks on their bedroom doors, there's only enough food and oxygen to get them from port to port with no emergency allotment, there are more crew than cryopods, they're not allowed to sleep for more than 5 hours a night, etc. i don't think they would have done anything to support her even if they had reported it.

HR may even blame anya for the assault, they may say that it happened because of something she did or did not do. it's her responsibility to take, not theirs.

second:

(thank you to @mudstoneabyss for pointing this one out to me)

curly needs this money because he's considering changing careers, which is likely to result in a pay cut or some amount of time job-hunting without income. swansea has a family back home he needs to provide for. it's daisuke's first year on the job and what a piss-poor welcome a pay cut would be, and he's an intern so the pay cut may be all or most of his salary. jimmy is living in poverty. anya has no savings.

it's entirely possible anya asked curly not to file an HR complaint not only because it would make her financial situation worse, but because she doesn't want to ask him, swansea, and daisuke to literally pay for jimmy's actions.

third:

even if curly did file an HR report he may have been told to do nothing. it's a long trip and they need all hands on deck to make the delivery on time! productivity over employee welfare. it's his job to keep the peace but keep jimmy working.

given how much stress curly's shown to be under, it can be assumed being captain is an extremely taxing job with a lot of both assigned duties and off-book duties. it may not actually be feasible to run the ship without a co-pilot.

maybe all he could do was talk to him.

2. go to the police. are there even police in space? i have to assume so because the alternative poses way too many questions. so there's space police. curly and anya call them and they come to the tulpar and dock on the ship and do an investigation and what happens to that limited food and air supply? the late delivery fee?

i'm a psychologist and my first psychology job was working as a crisis counselor for my county. my primary job was to sit with rape survivors as they had their rape kits done and support them as they made their reports to the police. this may not be true everywhere or across the board or in this dystopia but in my experience the police won't take a rape case seriously, or will have limited options to prosecute, or maybe won't even take the case at all without a rape kit.

so curly and anya call the police. they're going to have to file with HR too, to let the company know what's going on. and now anya has to pay for an HR complaint, a late delivery, and a rape kit.

is she going to get this paycheck at all?

3. curly acts on his own accord. this is the one that makes the least amount of sense to me, personally.

if curly just beats the shit out of jimmy then what? now jimmy's mad and embarrassed and takes it out on anya. we're going to confront him and risk making her suffering worse?

curly can't lock jimmy in his quarters for the duration of the trip not only because, as i said, maybe having a co-pilot is necessary for the ship to operate, but there are not locks on the doors.

curly can't lock him in the cargo hold because a) pony express would probably be beyond pissed off about that and who knows if the crew's pay would get docked or curly would get fired or if dragonbreath would sue them all for property damage and contamination. b) how do we get food and water to him? let him go to the bathroom? we open the doors and he busts out and who knows how violent he'll be then.

curly isn't going to kill him because a) that's one of his oldest friends, and i don't care what he's done or how angry curly is or how badly he wants to help anya, i really don't think it's realistic to think he'd be able to separate the anger from the love enough to end his life. b) it's cold-blooded, premeditated murder. it'd be one thing if curly caught jimmy in the act and killed him in defense of anya, he could maybe get away with that. but after the event is over? curly's going to jail for that, possibly for the rest of his life. if you worked at the post office and a coworker told you your best friend since childhood raped her are you clocking out and going to his house and killing him? it's not reasonable. i'm also just really floored how often i've seen this option brought up on the "prison reform abolish the police no matter how bad you are you still deserve human rights" website.

i also don't think it's reasonable, realistic, or kind to ask curly to act on his own accord without consulting anya. for curly to go against her wishes or act without her consent, that's further taking agency away from her. that's another man deciding what happens in her life. even if curly wanted to beat jimmy up or lock him away or kill him, maybe anya asked him not to.

so i ask, what was curly supposed to do? what did he and anya explore as options? what did anya ask him to do? we don't know and we'll never know. and that was intentional on wrong organ's part.

i don't say any of this to discount or discredit conversations or explorations or analyses about the role The Boys Club, toxic masculinity, and bro culture play into the plot, themes, narrative, or personal take-away players have. i fully 100% agree with, support, and endorse those narrative because despite everything i just said above, it's also true that curly is partially responsible.

it's true that he was irresponsible and an enabler for helping jimmy cheat on his psych exam, but there's no evidence at all that he's a conspirator to sexual assault and abuse, that he was going to cover for jimmy in a court of law. all he said was they would figure it out, and that could mean a whole lot of things.

i think curly has some percentage of the blame for what happened on the tulpar, i just don't think that percentage is as large of a number as a lot of people seem to believe. i'm not asking that we forgive or apologize or absolve curly, what i am asking is that we try to look at the situation with more nuance and empathy and good faith.

i don't think curly was a bad man or a bro who was ignoring anya and covering for jimmy's actions. but i also don't think he did enough to help her. he was never good at seeing the small details amongst the larger picture. he couldn't see jimmy for the dead pixel he was.

i think curly was sleep deprived, possibly under-fed, definitely overworked, and juggling too many balls with not enough options. i think he made the wrong choice, but i think he thought it was the lesser of the evils.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Sharing the bed with various CRP characters 1/2

Same song and dance as the cuddling post! If theres any characters you want to see, let me know! If theres also any specific scenarios you want to see dont hesitate to drop them, love doing these kinds of posts

Characters: Slenderman, Splendorman, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Masky, Hoodie, Jeff, Puppeteer

Notes: Reader is GN, can be seen as romantic or platonic

CWs: mentions of blood but it's nothing huge, better safe than sorry though

Slenderman

He hardly ever crawls into bed with you, on nights where he is with you he tends to linger in the corner- or if you insist, he will take a seat on the foot of your bed if you feel the first was.. creepy.. not that this solution is any better- he is never going to lay down, thus, with a broken heart I have to give him the first rating of 1/10, with his only saving grace that he will protect you should anything happen

Splendorman

Unlike his fellow slenderbeing, Splendor is more than willing to crawl into bed and try to lay with you! It's a bit of a tight fit, though, even with him manipulating his body as small as it can get... it can get a little uncomfortable, unfortunately. And spirit can only make someone so comfortable.. 3/10

Eyeless Jack

I personally headcanon that hes on the shorter side- 5'5 to 5'7, so thankfully space isnt an issue! He runs cold, so if the nights are hot hes a good option for a cuddle buddy! But how is he in his sleep? He sleeps like a rock- he doesnt move or shift around all that much so you're unlikely to be disturbed! He.. does snore, though, or at least that's what it loosely is. Its more like gurgling due to any of his gripping goo getting into his throat- not a good noise.. will wake up coughing and spluttering.. 5/10, a pretty average sleeping experience

Laughing Jack

He doesnt need to sleep and he can only pretend sleep for so long before he gets antsy- it takes him a while to understand that you need your sleep and how much you need. He doesnt mind staying in bed and cuddling with you to pass the time- hes very large, warm, and comfy so it's not a terrible set up! Sometimes pretends sleep, complete with a fake snore. A little big for the bed at I feet tall, and sometimes snatches the blanket to fully sell the "fake sleep" thing as well as rag dolling on you 6/10

Masky

He doesnt sleep around you, it's just a little quirk of his that he doesnt let his guard down at all- he doesnt exactly distrust you but its.. complicated. Hesitant when you offer to let him crawl into bed with you, he's rather fond of the little perch hes made in the corner of your room, but you cannot deny that he looks like a sleep paralysis demon to your fuzzy sleepy brain. Still as a corpse in bed, WILL yank the blanket back if you steal it in your sleep 7/10 not very disruptive otherwise

Hoodie

Will crawl into bed with you and get up close to you, loves pulling you close to him during the night. Falls asleep after you do, though he probably watches you in your sleep... smells like wet leaves and mulch 7.5/10, he let's you take his hoodie sometimes or even just crawl into it with him. Does not give a shit if it gets stretched out he can always get another one. Sleeps between you and the door to the bedroom

Jeff

Heavy sleeper and he snores loud, so good luck with that. Probably also a blanket thief. Bounces between staying up all night or falling asleep the second he hits the bed- really it depends on what hes been up to... at least he usually has the manners to take his bloodstained hoodie off before crawling into your bed.. probably kicks in his sleep.. 4/10

Puppeteer

Very hard and very cold, and I don't think he would need to sleep but can if he desires. Wants to be the one cuddled, just make sure to bundle up with some extra blankets so you can stay warm! Doesnt snore but you can hear his joints creak with each movement- you know, puppet stuff.. 5/10, not terrible but not spectacular

[writers-hes]

tell me you need me (1 of 2) | c. berzatto x reader

It was good when you started but Carmen Berzatto had the ability to make anyone fall in love with him no matter how much you tried not to. (friends with benefits!carmen, smut, mndi!!!, unprotected p in v, smut! smut!, angst!! fluff, maybe some bad words, blood, unedited) MASTER LISTS

TAGLIST

I need you tonight. Want to go?

You sighed at the message that Carmy sent you. “Want to go” was a code for “I want to have sex.” and it’s been working pretty well for these past few months. You both needed some sort of release for the pent-up stress that you both have. Carmy, with the Bear and you, with art. You were a full-time artist; creating art inspired by food using oil paint and other forms of media. You’ve been stressed with your upcoming gallery opening next month. Would they love it? It’s quite hard to meet the expectations after winning the Herb Alpert Award in the Arts last year. It was close to Carmy’s James Beard Foundation award, if not the same. In a way, at the end of the day, you were two people excelling in your jobs except for everything else. You sucked at relationships, friendships, connection…what wasn’t artistic; you sucked at. Carmy was the same. Without thinking, you typed your response, a four letter word. Maybe you’ll see him tonight.

-

Carmy enters your home like he lived in it. He had his own set of keys, it was easier that way. He’s been so stressed with the Bear and the only thing that he needs is to blow off some of that steam before he can be functional again. There was supposed to be a celebrity who was wishing for a whole fucking kitchen tour tomorrow and he had to stay behind to make sure that everything was perfect. 

“Hey,” he greets you when he sees you perched on your couch. He liked your apartment much better; at least you had multiple rooms and your own space. It’s not like his; there was work everywhere while yours felt homey. Except your studio down the hall—damn, how much do artists earn today?

“Hey,” you replied. “Did you have dinner yet? I can heat up some of the Chinese food I ordered earlier.”

“No, no. It’s alright,” he says, removing his shoes in the doorway. You were always so tidy and meticulous. No outside clothes on the bed; he had to learn that the hard way. “Actually, um, can-can I take a shower first? I want to wash the day away and I-I smell like the kitchen.”

“And you took the L,”

“Ubered here, actually.”

“Surge rates?”

“I was in a rush.”

“Oh,” you gulped. “Well, you still have your clothes in my wardrobe and your toiletries in my bathroom.”

“Which one?” he asked. “Which-which bathroom?”

“The one in my bedroom,” you replied. “You know where the fresh towels are. So…”

“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he says. “Thanks.” You only smiled at him. Conversation before your engagements are usually awkward because you both knew what the two of you were there for. It’s more comfortable afterwards; when he talks about the Bear or asks you about your art.

You and Carmy met from a friend of a friend. You were looking for chefs that could serve you inspiration for your paintings when she mentioned Carmen Berzatto. You reached out to him and he replied three months later, telling you that he can show you some of the recipes that he’s been working on. He’s an artist himself—Sistine Chapel art kind of stuff. He explained the components of his dish over dinner in your hotel apartment in New York. You mentioned that you were from Chicago and he mentioned that he’s from Chicago too…you drank too much wine and the rest was history. 

You both stopped communicating when he met Claire but he reached out again, asking if you wanted to meet. He told you all about her and how he fucked up. You drank too much wine again. History has the habit of repeating itself.

You swore to never fall in love with Carmen Berzatto and you didn’t…not until recently. He used to leave immediately once you’re both done. Lately, he’s been staying over. He talks to you about everything. He stays over and wakes you up with coffee and some Michelin Star quality pancakes or French toast. He watches you take your first bite before he takes his, likes to watch your reaction and likes hearing your praise.

You were too lost in your reviere to notice Carmen walking to you, all fresh and clean. He lays a hand on your shoulder and kisses your neck.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, voice deep and sultry. 

“You,” you replied, reaching up to massage his curls. 

“Good,” he says, removing himself from you and sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “Needed you today…but I want to talk first before…before…”

“That’s fine with me,” you replied, inching closer to him. “What’s wrong?” He puts his hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly. Since when was he so comfortable around you?

“I…I just… Mikey,” The name lingers heavy in the air. Anytime Carmen feels the crushing weight of the pressure, he says Mikey. Whenever he feels inadequate, not enough, never enough—he says Mikey.

“He’ll be proud of you, Carm,” you said, smiling at him. “Like everyone else is.”

“I’m sorry for not inviting you to the opening…Claire was-was there and…”

“I understand,” You put your hand over his to reassure him that everything’s okay. “I understand.”

“You wouldn’t have seen me,” he chuckled. “I was locked inside the walk-in the whole time and well, everything was great. What if I’m not needed?”

Is it too late for me to love you? 

“Carm…” you trailed off, trying to find the words. “Of course, you’re needed. The Bear wouldn’t be The Bear without you, you know? Your family must be so proud of you because I know that-that I am. I’m so proud of you and I-I need you so much,” you told him. “I need you, Carmen. More than you could ever know.”

Is it too late for me to love you? 

Maybe it was the words that you said, maybe it was the long forgotten show on the T.V., maybe it was because the T.V. screen illuminated your face in a way that was so, so beautiful. Maybe it was just him.

“Let’s go to bed,” he rasps, taking your hand and dragging you to the bedroom. Once he closes the door behind him, Carmy presses you against it, taking your chin and kissing you. It was slow and needy; this kiss was needy. You trail your hand underneath the white shirt that hugged his figure. You caress his sides up and down; softly; slowly and Carmen releases a whimper into your mouth. I need you. I need you. I need you. 

“Baby,” he whispers, pulling away from you to remove his shirt. “Baby, baby, baby.”

“I need you, Carmen,” you muster the courage to kiss his neck now, sucking and nipping right under his collarbone. He lets you do it, he lets you mark him like you own him. He tugs on the roots of your hair lightly. You lick the purple bruise, nipping it again just so it could last one more week. Carmen was sighing above you, letting you take him like he wanted to be taken. His hands itch, slipping right under the waistband of your panties to cup your heated cunt. “Carmy,”

“I know, baby. Let’s get you to bed, hm?” he asks, pushing you slightly. “Lay down for me. I missed you so much. Let me show you,”

You obey his commands, opening your legs widely like he likes. He crawls until his face is right in front and removes your underwear, tossing it to the side. He’ll take care of that later.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, when he lets his index finger trail along your slit. You buckle in need; silently begging him to do more. “So, fucking wet,” he repeats, parting your folds until he sees your glistening cunt. 

“Carm…” you whine. He spits on your clit and you whimper. 

“Let me taste you, hm?” you heard him say, his wandering fingers rubbing all sorts of shapes on your folds. You could only nod and he takes that, licking a bold stripe. You press your cunt against his tongue and he just takes it. He licks a few more stripes before sucking your clit softly. 

“Carmy,” you moan. Your hands trail down underneath your shirt, thumbs softly flicking your sensitive nipples. Carmy could just come at the sight of you playing with them but he holds back, sucking your clit harsher before plunging his thick middle finger inside you. “Oh, fuck,” 

He pumps the finger slowly…in, out, in, out while he licks your sensitive bud. 

“Fuck, Carmy,” you whimper. “Fuck me,”

“Later,” was his nonchalant reply; enjoying the sweet nectar that dripped from your sloppy pussy. It was better than any dessert he’s ever had before. If it was um to him, he’d have his head buried in between your legs, eating you out forever. You buckle again, pinching your nipples hard and tugging them. 

“Carm…”

“I know, I know,” he says, sucking your clit harshly for one last time before crawling on top of you. “Taste,” he orders. You obliged, opening your mouth and putting on a show with the way you licked your juices off of his finger. “Fuck,” he groans. He palms himself through his boxers while you sucked on his finger. You released it with one last suck before putting your hand on top of Carmy’s to feel his hardening cock underneath. You push his hand away while you squeeze his member lightly. Just enough for him to rut his hips against your hand. Just enough for him to toss his boxers to the side.

You tried to sit up to see him pump a few strokes, moaning your name while he did. He gets off the bed, looking at the way your body moved while you breathed. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself before dragging your body to the end of the bed. He pries your legs open and puts one of them over his shoulder. He liked it like this, it fills you up in ways you cannot describe. “Need you to play with your tits while I fuck you, hm?”

He taps his cock against your pussy.

“Can you hear how wet you are?” he asked, sliding his cock in between your folds. You could feel the protruding vein run along your nub and you moan, massaging your breasts to show him your obedience. “Fuck,”

“Carmy…” you whimpered. “Please.”

He hums, grabbing his member and teasing your wet entrance with his pink tip. “You’re so…”

With no warning, Carmy plunges deep into you and you both groan. You were waiting for this. He’s been wanting this the whole day. He stays there for a few seconds before he thrusts in and out of you slowly. 

“Fuck,” 

The slopping noises inside your room reverberated in your walls and for a few moments, the sounds of your groans and skin slapping against skin heightens your arousal. Carmy thumbs your clit and he feels your walls clench around him.

“Don’t do that, petal,” he rasps, sweat dripping on his forehead. “I’ll cum fast if you do.”

“Sorry,” you choked out. He only grunts as he adjusts his pace. He was faster now and you could hear he ragged breathing. “Carmy, I need you.”

“Y-you need me,” he repeats to himself. “You need me.”

“I do,” you told him, moaning when he plunges his cock deep inside you. “Need you, need you,” 

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Tell me that you need me. Tell me,”

“I need you, Carmy,” you whine. “I need you to cum inside me,” 

Carmy’s eyes widened. You’ve never let him do that before. He always had to pull out or use a condom. 

“Want me to fill you up?” he asks, his voice strained. “I’ll fill you —oh, fuck,” 

“Yes, please,” you sobbed, breath hitching at the feeling of his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, Carmy.”

Sex has never felt this good. 

You could feel the breaking point come nearer and he does too. His movements were sloppier, his breathing even more ragged that it was. Your walls were clenching around him but that seemed to arouse him even more. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he grunted. “I’ll fill you up, hm?” 

“Yes, please, Carmy,” you whine. He could only nod, doing his best to keep his orgasm at bay. He wanted to prolong this feeling; this emotion but he couldn’t. “Fuck, Carmy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming. Carm—oh!”

He follows soon after, moaning your name as he shoots ropes of cum inside your pussy. He could feel your walls clench around him and he thrusts in slowly, to ride both of your orgasms away. 

“You-you liked that?” he asked. He doesn’t pull out. Instead he takes your other leg and hangs in on his shoulder. “We have to make sure that not a drop goes to waste.”

You nodded and felt his hands caress your legs slowly. He slowly lays your legs back down on the bed and crawls on top of you, kissing your torso, neck, and your chest while he did. 

“Stay there,” he ordered and you nodded in assent. You just let him cum inside you. He walks over to the carafe on your bedside, filling the glass with water and then, taking a hand towel from your cabinet. He pours a little bit of the liquid onto the towel. You sit up when he wordlessly gives you the glass of water. He watches you finish it and kisses your head when you gave him the glass back. He sets it on the floor carefully before opening your legs so he could clean you up.

“No,” you shook your head and he stops, alert because you told him no. “I’m…I’m still sensitive,”

“Okay, petal,” he nods, taking the glass and the towel away. He picks up the tossed articles of clothing puts it in the laundry basket. He was quiet when he takes a fresh set of pyjamas and underwear from your wardrobe. “Raise your arms,” he says and you do. He puts a new shirt on you. “Lay down.” You followed him. He puts a new pair of panties on you. “Thank you,”

You were so tired now but you were still so aware of Carmy’s actions. He stands up from the bed to wear new clothes and sits down on the bed. He carefully places your head on his lap and plays with your hair.

“Thank you,” he says, bowing down to kiss your forehead. “Why don’t you sleep for me, hm?”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Waffles or pancakes?”

“Waffles with whipped cream.”

-

Why won’t you let me love you?

There were times when you’d fight with Carmen. A disagreement over something so, so, so small. This time, it was big. It was the opening of your gallery and he promised to be there. It was a big night—multiple art collectors and mongers from all over America came to see your latest pieces. They were all inspired by the food you grew up eating in Chicago; a collection of how culture, identities, and personalities affect eating. Your paintings were in vibrant colors—cup ramen with cheese, cannoli, food that you grew up eating whenever your mom was away. There were small details on the significance of the new collection to your life and he wasn’t there. You were on the stage, telling everyone how grateful you were to the audience but you were preoccupied, looking for a familiar mop of curls in the crowd. He didn’t come. He didn’t go. 

You smiled at them half-heartedly before leaving the stage, ready to be whisked away by some art dealer. You were whisked away by multiple guests, asking you for more details on the painting. You all told them everything they needed to know, what they should do if they’d like to make a purchase…

It would have been alright if he texted you…but he promised he’d be there. He promised he’d take you home. He promised.

-

Carmy was sitting alone in his apartment. He left The Bear earlier than usual and went straight home. He did it all, shower, put a nice suit, and fix his hair. He did it all, he even ran to the nearest florist to buy you flowers but he didn’t go. 

Isn’t this what lovers do? 

He wasn’t your lover. He couldn’t let himself be distracted again. He had to focus; he couldn’t fail the people that relied on him. He looked at the bag of groceries he got from the store; he was supposed to cook you something special tonight. Have you eaten yet? Fuck the suit that he paid for dry cleaning; fuck the flowers; fuck him. It must have hurt you—he knows that. Tonight was a big night and you were so excited to show him a painting that you’ve been working on. 

“I won’t sell it,” you told him. “I’ll have it shipped to you first thing in the morning.”

Would you still send it to him?

-

By the end of the night, you were exhausted. Happy, but exhausted. It was normal; talking to everyone and being scintillating the whole night was work but it was worth it. Your paintings all had their new owners, except for the painting that you promised to Carmy. Would he still want it? You were alone in the studio, wrapping the 4 by 3 foot canvas with the best quality glassine. You were giving this to him tomorrow. If he doesn't want to have it, you’ll probably just donate it somewhere else. 

You laid awake in your bed all night long, waiting for his text. It was funny, just last week he was begging you to tell him that you needed him but when you needed him most, he wasn’t there. 

You arrive at The Bear just before it opens, the big canvas tucked under your arm. He was sure to be there and had always told you to use the back door if you weren’t dining. You always obliged, of course, opening the backdoor to reveal everyone. You’ve met Sydney and Richie before but you haven’t met the others yet. You were an alien in an unknown world; Carmy’s employees looking at you, as if wondering who this girl was. 

“Hey,” Sydney greeted, looking at the glassine covered thing that you were carrying. “Didn’t know you were coming in today. Congratulations on your exhbit,”

“Yeah, Congrats. What’s that, sweetheart?” Richie asked. 

“Oh,” you just nodded. Carmy couldn’t even look at you. “I just came here to give this to…uh, Carmy,” you cleared your throat. “Carm…?”

“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he stuttered. “Can we go to the office?” 

“Sure.”

You followed him into the office while Richie tells everyone to go back to what they were doing. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, afraid that this was going to be another one of those petty fights that you’ve had with him. 

You were wrong. So, so wrong. 

“You didn’t come last night,” you told him, shielding yourself from him with the painting. “I…I waited.”

“Sorry,” was his laconic reply. You nodded, chuckling. 

“That’s all?” you asked. “Just…sorry? No explanation, no nothing?” you asked. “I was looking for you the whole night, Carm. You promised you were coming,”

“I don’t know what-what you want me to say,” he says, looking everywhere but at you. “I-I-I’m sorry, okay? I had other plans.”

“You promised months ago that you were coming,” you repeated. “I called Sydney last night because you weren’t answering and she told me that you left early.”

“You’re spying on me now?” he asks, suddenly defensive. “I had things to do that night. I can’t-can’t just put everything on hold for-for you.” He spits his words like venom, voice getting louder with every word.

You frowned, not recognizing who the boy was in front of you. It’s not like you asked him to put his life on hold. Your heart was beating so fast in anger, ears ringing. 

“I see. So you just need me around and you-you just I don’t know, call me because you need to get your dick wet?” you asked, matching his volume. “You just need me around when no one else is there to fuck you? Is that it?” you asked. “What the fuck?” 

Carmy blinks, tries to think of the words he’s about to say but he couldn’t stop himself. He could never seem to stop himself. 

“You’re the only one desperate enough to do so,” he shrugs. It breaks your heart in pieces, really. The nights Carmen spent nuzzling his head in your shoulder before you slept probably meant nothing to him. Your face falls, contorting in hurt at what he just said. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend. I don’t know why you expect me to just-just-just do something!”

“Maybe I wanted you there as my friend!” you shouted over. Your voices could be heard from outside but everyone else pretended like they weren’t listening to anything that you both were saying. You were shouting over each other now, the fuse just breaks. “If you didn’t have any fucking plans to actually go, then don’t give me your good for nothing fucking promises!”

“I don’t need a girl leeching on me when I’m opening a fucking restaurant. Do you want me to put everything on you just because you asked me to? I’m not your fucking boyfriend. You know that right? And maybe-maybe I don’t want to be your fucking friend either!”

“Why would I want you to be my boyfriend, Carmy? You’re-you’re fucking unreliable! You have issues that need fixing. You think Claire could fix that? You think I could fix that? You think the girls you get wrapped around your fucking finger can fix your fucked up fucking head? Huh? Is that what you think? You’re so fucking miserable you make everyone around you miserable! Grow up!” He’s hurt. That’s what you thought of him? That he was miserable? Did he make you miserable?

“I don’t need to go to your fucking art exhibition when they’re all fucking shit.”

You closed your mouth before you could protest. The pain of his words felt like a slap on the face. If he regretted it, he didn’t show it. You turned away, nodding. 

“Fuck you, Carmen. Don’t fucking call me. Don’t fucking knock on my door. Don’t…don’t fucking think of me. I’m fucking done with you,”

“Yeah? You’re done with me, huh? Fuck you,” he spits back. He heard the waver in your voice; heard how you tried to steady everything. He wanted to say sorry but you were already leaving. Richie and Sydney couldn’t even ask you what happened because you were rushing out, throwing the painting you worked hard on for days at the back. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. 

-

“Fuck!” his chefs could hear from outside the office. Everyone heard the vile things you both screamed at each other; everyone heard why you were so angry. Everyone fucking heard. Nobody dared to move, they didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Carmy’s anger; not when The Bear was about to open. Continuous loud bangs and sounds of some object being thrown were heard too. Sugar sighed. 

“Carm?” she called from the door. “It’s almost opening,”

“I-I-I know, Sug.” he replied, blinking. “Uh, can-can you guys go ahead? I’ll be there, I just-just need to you know, calm down?”

“Okay, Bear,” she smiles, tapping the door frame before leaving Carmen in his own thoughts. He gets out of the restaurant through the back door, about to light a cigarette, when he sees the canvas wrapped with glassine. 

“Fuck,” was the only thing he could mutter before taking it and sitting where the staff usually stayed at when they wanted a break. He lights up a stick and lets it hang loose on his lips while he opens your gift with shaky hands. He was so immersed in the experience, gently removing the tape and making sure that nothing was ruined that he didn’t notice Sydney. 

The glassine reveals a painting of a plate of cannolis. He remembered that he told you the story about cannolis during Christmas and how he wanted to recreate that—take it for himself. He traces over the precise brushstrokes shakily. 

“That’s a good painting,” Sydney spoke, her hands behind her back. “Would be a waste to just throw it out.”

“I know,” Carmy nods. “I’m sorry you had to uh, hear all of that.”

“It’s…something,” Sydney replied, making Carmy chuckle. 

“I always…always seem to uh, fuck up everything,” he muttered. “I was on the way there, you know? Last night?”

“Yeah. You were so excited,”

“I was,” he coughed. “But I didn’t go because…” Words died down in his mouth. Why didn’t he go? “I’ve said some things and she-she doesn’t want me to call her anymore and I-I understand but like, I don’t know, Syd.”

Don’t know why I could never seem to just let myself enjoy things. I don’t belong anywhere else but in the fucking kitchen. It’s the only thing I was good at.

“I didn’t really want to to, uh, fuck this up.”

-

I want to talk to you.

Come to my apartment after your shift. Or whenever.

Carmen feels his palms sweat when he reads  texts you sent him days ago. He decided to go today, finally—he was never good at confronting things; always so explosive, so defensive. He didn’t know what he’d feel like today. He knocks on your door and hears the shuffling from the other side. He just got out of The Bear; he was tired but he forced himself to go. He had to go. 

“Hey,” you smiled tightly when you opened the door. “Come in.”

He nods, wordlessly entering your apartment like how henused to. Bag and shoes on the side. Somehow, this made him more nervous than usual. This was a prelude to something else entirely; he believed that.

“How are you? he asked, voice small and looking down. 

“I’m…good,” you replied, looking away. “You?”

“Busy,” he replied. The air felt heavy and his palms were sweating. “I’m…I’m sorry for not being there when I promised you that I would,”

“Why weren’t you there, Carm?” you asked and he could hear the sadness in your voice. He knew that your exhibit meant a lot to you. “You…you told me you will and well, you were…the-the person I want to be there the most.”

“I didn’t know that. I’m- I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “But why? I mean, I-I don’t know art. I like my shit but I-I’m not cool or understand—“

“Because I like you, Carmy.” you told him, looking at him now and trying to go nearer. He stepped back and you stopped your tracks.

“You—what?” he asked, shaking his head furiously; like your confession offended him. “You…like me.”

“I do,” you nodded. “But…it doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck. How many times do we have to go back to this very same place for you to understand?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. He told you before that he didn’t want to date. You told him you understood. You told him he was being egotistic when he told you not to get attached. He wanted to leave. He didn’t expect this to happen—he didn’t want this to happen. “I don’t—I don’t—“

“Carmy,” you cautioned him, trying to ease your beating heart. “Can you listen to me? I-I-I like you, okay and I’ve been thinking about it too. I’m—you’re always staying behind after sex and well, I just maybe thought that you liked me too.” You replied, swallowing his rejection for now.

“I don’t,” he snaps, tone sharp. “We’ll both be miserable in a relationship. I’ll never make-make you happy. You’re right, you know? I’m unreliable and-and-and issues that I need to fix…and I’m not the one you’re looking for,”

“I’m sorry for saying that. It wasn’t my place to do so,” was your meek reply. How does he feel so far away when he feels so, so, so close?

“No, uh,” Carmen blinks, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I-I-I needed to hear those things, you know? I’m sorry too…for everything.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s it then?” he asked. He was distressed. How could he fuck this up after telling Sydney that he didn’t want to fuck things up with you? “I��I had fun,” You were the only one who kept me afloat when everything else turned to shit. I missed you when we stopped talking. I should have fought harder. What else could I have done?

“Fun,” you chuckled bitterly. “Fun…that’s the only thing you’re going to say to me?”

Carmy frowned. 

“What else did you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, Carmy!” you exclaimed, pacing back and forth but never towards him. “God! Tell me that I’m important to you. Tell me that I’ll still be your friend…tell me that you—that you—that I mean more than a fuck!”

Silence. Carmy couldn’t find the words to tell you what you truly meant to him…that he wanted what you wanted too but he was too scared to fuck it all up again like he did with Claire.

You nodded, looking away. You breathed in deeply, as if trying to relieve yourself of the hurt. That’s all you’ve ever meant to him. 

“You lead me along and it’s fine. I know that it’s my fault for wanting other things but at least…at least tell me that I’ll still be your friend; that I still matter to you even if I dug myself a hole by feeling things. Tell me that you still need me to put everything on hold for you because I’ve been waiting you to call me all day…”

“I don’t want you to do that. I don’t want you putting your life on hold for me,” he rasps. “I don’t…”

“But what if I wanted to?” you asked, face slightly contorted because you didn’t want to be so vulnerable in front of him. Not when he hasn’t told you what you wanted yet. Carmy was just looking at you, tapping his foot on the floor. It was a nervous habit that he developed. Fuck, he needed a cigarette.

“Can you, uh, leave?” you asked, voice low. “I…” 

“No, no, no,” he begs, rushing towards you. He grabs a hold of your elbows to remind you that he was there. Would it mean anything? Would his touch convey all of the words he wanted to say? 

“Carm…” your voice breaks. “Carm…”

“No, no. You’re not just that to me,” he reassures “But you have to understand that-that I can’t love you like that.”

“Carmen, please…” you beg, tears brimming in your eyes. “Please…just, just leave,”

You’ve never asked him to leave before but it seemed like it was what you really wanted—like it was what you really needed. He nods, kissing your head softly before detaching himself from you. 

“I’m sorry,” Carmy said. “For-for not saying the right, uh, things.”

“Yeah,” you nod, hiding yourself from him. He hated that you had to do that when you’ve cried on his shoulders multiple times. He never liked seeing you cry; he just didn’t know that one day, he’ll be on the receiving end of your sadness. He watches you rub your forehead, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying. If you started crying, would he stay?

-

It’s been months since Carmy left. He’s been in his best form in the kitchen. He was making things easier for his staff; he was working twenty four hours a day. Going to The Bear early to help with prep; staying late to help them clean after a long shift of cooking and cooking and kitchen tours. He’s been getting acclaim—more acclaim, really. There was a waiting list on his restaurant and positive reviews from left and right flooded in. The Bear was dubbed as “The Restaurant of the Year” in Chicago despite being less than a year old. 

He’s been doing good—perfect. 

It was like he was a hamster in a fucking wheel with no other way to escape. He likes putting himself in gear, like driving fast because it makes him believe that nothing really hurts him. He didn’t like being at home; it reminded him too much of you. It reminded him of when you’d lean on the kitchen counter, a small smile on your lips while you watched him cook you something. He didn’t like sitting on the couch because it reminded him of when he slept with his head on your lap. He didn’t like it in his bedroom because he’s reminded of that night when you pulled him closer in your sleep. He didn’t like The Bear because the painting that you gave him hung so proudly by the dining area. It was marvellous—they said. How was he able to get a painting that you did when your art was so valuable and in demand? 

He was moving so fast so you wouldn’t cross his mind but it seemed like no matter what he did, he'd end up thinking about you anyway. 

It didn’t matter, how come a fall like that made him feel like flying? Maybe he’s waiting for it to hit him but he was feeling alright. 

He was alright. 

“Chef!” Sydney called, looking at Carmen who was chopping the vegetables like a madman. “Carmen!”

“Fuck, what, Sydney?!” he asked, slamming his knife on the counter. 

“You’re bleeding,” Marcus told him and Carmen looked down, blood was all over the chopping board. “You’ve been bleeding for a few seconds now…we’ve all been calling your name, Chef.” 

“Fuck, I-I-I’m…” Carmen was a blubbering mess, just watching his hand bleed like it didn’t matter. “I’m-I’m,”

“Take a break, Carm,” Sydney says but her partner just shakes his head. “Carm—“

“Sydney, don’t—don’t make me take a fucking break, please.”

“You’ll need to clean up and make sure there’s no more blood,” Sydney told him. “I’m not fucking around,”

“Yeah,” he nods, putting his fist over his heart and drawing circles. Sydney nods and Carmy fixes his station. 

He couldn’t stop shaking, though. Even Tina saw how his hand trembled. What the fuck?

“Carmen,” 

“Yeah…just…just give me a second, please.” he nods, picking his knife again and doing everything perfectly. Like clockwork. He’s back. He’s back. He’s fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m alright. 

PART 2

AN: Thank you for the love! This is going to be a two-part fic because I love how everything is right now… Don’t forget to comment / reblog if you like it! I read every single little thing you guys type…even the hashtags.

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt @morgthemagpie @hal3ynicol3 @1800-queen-trash

[half-bakedboy]

Number 2 from the 50 cliché tropes and prompts

Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn't help but steal it

Buck never understood why he had lost so many sweatshirts and button-downs to past girlfriends. Nine times out of ten, they didn't even remotely fit their figure and they were only worn in the comfort of Buck's home anyways. 

Then he started staying over Tommy's house more and more. He'd always come prepared–an overnight bag filled with an extra LAFD shirt, a pair of jeans, a pair of chinos, and two shirts, one with a collar and one without–just in case he needed to rush out in the morning. 

This morning, he isn’t quite as prepared as he wishes he had been. Tommy’s in the shower after sleepily kissing Buck good morning and Buck promised he’d run Hercules–Tommy’s ten-year-old retired racing greyhound–outside before Tommy dropped Buck off at work. Thunder crashes outside and rain pounds on the roof, and Buck didn’t even think to bring a jacket. 

He looks around the bedroom closet, careful not to invade the private space too much, but he doesn’t see anything that might help. He knows there’s an umbrella waiting beside the door, but he’s already shivering from the chill sneaking in through the closed windows and Buck knows he’ll need something to protect his skin. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a pullover laid neatly on top of the laundry pile. It’s similar to his LAFD one, but a lighter blue that matches Tommy’s on-duty uniform. It won’t keep him dry, but it’ll keep him warm and keep the water off of his skin which is all he has time to care about. He snatches it up and shouts to Tommy that he’s taking the dog outside even though he’s not sure he’s heard. 

Before he gets too far, Buck pauses to get the pullover on. The first thing he notices is how much bigger it is on him. He’s not a small guy by any means, and he’s not much smaller than Tommy–at least he thinks–but there’s so much extra fabric that he has to bundle it up at his waist. He can also tell that the back doesn’t stretch taut against his shoulder blades and that the neckline slouches a little in the front. 

It’s strange to wear something so unfit for him, but at the same time, Buck can’t help but feel giddy. He glances at himself in the mirror and feels small, but not in the way he usually does. It doesn’t make him feel inconsequential or overlooked, but like he’s protected and well-loved. It stirs inside of his stomach until the joy begins to bubble in his chest. 

He notices that Tommy’s name is embroidered just over his heart, and he brings his fingers there to trace over the lettering. It takes everything in him not to whisper his name combined with Tommy’s last and he wonders if this was how his old girlfriends felt when they stole his LAFD shirts that had his name brazen on the back. 

Where he expected to be a bit embarrassed at the claiming nature of it all, he can’t help but feel… powerful. Yeah, there’s something powerful about wearing someone else's name, like he’s screaming to the world that Tommy is off-limits because he’s Buck’s. 

He’s Buck’s. 

He’s too busy thinking about what exactly that means for him to hear the bathroom door open and a freshly showered and shaved Tommy emerge. Another figure beside Buck’s reflection startles him but Tommy’s reassuring hands slide around his waist. It’s strange how normal it feels to have strong, long arms wrapped around him and a broad chest waiting to hold him up as he leans back against it. 

“You’re wet,” Buck says, feeling the dampness on Tommy’s unclothed chest. He’s in sweatpants like he’s ready to lounge around for the day, but the bare skin of his upper body is clearly on display where Buck’s body isn’t hiding it. He wants to pull away just so he can take another peek. 

Tommy doesn’t seem to notice nor care that Buck is analyzing them because he’s too busy doing the same. There’s something in his eyes, though, that sends an eruption of warmth to Buck’s face. Tommy tugs at the extra fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s having the same realization as Buck did, and then he slides one hand up Buck’s chest to trace his name. He whispers each letter like a secret into Buck’s ear, piercing eyes never leaving Buck’s in the mirror. 

Buck shivers, pressing back against Tommy and leaning his head back so that it plops on Tommy’s shoulder comfortably. Tommy finishes his name before dragging a finger to the neckline of the pullover and letting it hang there like a weight that keeps Buck grounded.

“You’re wearing my jumper,” Tommy points out like he doesn’t already know. Buck suddenly feels anxious, like he’s made a horrible mistake, and stands back up straight. He turns to look at Tommy as he speaks. 

“Is that okay? I didn’t bring a jacket so I figured—” 

Tommy kisses him before he can finish, and Buck can only hope it becomes a pattern. 

It’s just as soft as their first kiss and every kiss they’ve shared since then, but it grows in passion second by second. Tommy is gripping the fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s deciding whether he wants to pull it over Buck’s head or leave it on his forever. Buck holds his naked shoulders, palms sliding down the hard planes of his chest then his abs, before sliding underneath the waistband of his sweatpants. 

When a cold nose hits his hand, Buck jumps back, out of breath and startled. Hercules is staring up at them like he’s let them have their fun and he’s done waiting to go outside. Tommy swipes at his face as he chuckles and Buck leans down to pat Herc’s head. 

“I’m sorry, Buddy. Am I stealing all of your dad’s attention?” Buck coos, and he can almost hear Tommy’s good-natured eye roll. 

“Well, if Evan here is done distracting me, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take you outside, huh?” 

“Oh, if Evan is done distracting you? Like you didn’t just walk out of the shower half-naked and damp and looking like you wanted to drop to your kn–” Buck inhales deeply when Tommy glances down then back up and raises his eyebrows. “Alright, I’m out of here. Be right back,” he promises, pressing one last kiss to Tommy’s reddened lips. 

“Mhm,” Tommy hums, watching him start to walk away. 

“Do you want your pullover back?” Buck asks, because he figures that’s what he would’ve wanted to be asked. 

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s yours now.”

It sounds a lot like I’m yours now, but Buck doesn’t dare ask. Instead, he takes Hercules out, ignoring the storm rumbling above him, and strokes his thumb distractingly against Tommy’s name over his heart. He guesses he’s Tommy’s now, too.

(now on ao3)

[oatmilk-vampire]

Birthday Blues

Read part 2 here.

Steve hates his birthday.

He knows he may not be the only one who gets "birthday blues" but he feels like it's a lot deeper than just the blues.

When he got closer with Eddie and learned of his own shitty upbringing, he thought it'd be a bonding moment for them. Eddie has to hate his birthday too, right?

Wrong.

Despite Eddie’s mom dying when he was only six, and Eddie’s dad being a deadbeat, leaving Eddie on his own before Uncle Wayne took him in, Eddie loved his birthday.

The Munsons may not have been rich but Wayne always did his best to provide Eddie with new(er) clothes, or dice, or guitar picks. A new album or poster for his bedroom walls. Maybe even his favorite food at the diner--something they didn't do often as they usually survived on box cereal and spaghetti-Os.

And when Al Munson finally rolled into town conveniently around his only child's birthday, well he'd give the sort of shitty, low-commitment gift only a father could give.

And Eddie looked forward to it all the same. One or two shitty presents in six years is better than none when it comes to his father. He'd take what he could get.

So, when Eddie's birthday comes and goes and Steve gets invited to his and Wayne's get together with the kids, and then a later party with the members of Corroded Coffin--well of course Steve goes. And he showers Eddie with love and meaningful but still kinda pricey presents, because he can. And he wants to. Despite the merciless teasing he endures. The look on Eddie's face makes Steve feel like he's the one that got the greatest gift of all.

This, of course, all falls apart when Eddie points out Steve's own birthday must be coming up, and he's right. And because he has no tact he announces in front of everyone who realizes in horror that they've gone years of knowing Steve and celebrating his birthday exactly zero times.

Steve's equally horrified now because now everyone is tripping over their feet desperately trying to make it up to him with cakes and ice cream and movies and handmade cards and weird action figures Eddie probably would have liked better.

It's only after Steve gracelessly accepts all of their gift-giving, and fends off at least three panic attacks and two migraines that he has to put on his bitch voice and scream that the only thing he wants for his birthday is to be left alone.

And like usual, the kids do not listen.

Until Eddie steps in. He makes them go, Robin too, even if she is pissed about it. But they go when Eddie assures them that Steve probably just feels a little overwhelmed right now and needs some space.

He's close to leaving too, knowing he may have made a mistake and should probably get out of his hair... But then Steve starts crying and Eddie has to stay.

It's not loud or ugly, just these little, tiny pitiful things like Steve is trying his damnest to not cry. Like the act of tears falling would kill him.

Eddie cautiously slides next to his shaking form on the couch, careful not to jostle him too much.

He bites his lip as he experiments with placing a hand on Steve's shoulder.

Steve tenses under his touch until Eddie speaks,

"Stevie, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. None of us did."

His parents were hardly around. Never gave him practical toys he wanted, just whatever they thought a boy should have to shape him into a "proper young man", if they thought he needed toys at all. No parties. Ever. He briefly wanted to throw ragers when he realized he was old enough and his parents wouldn't be home, they never were, but those made him feel even worse so he got used to spending the day like any other. All alone in a big, empty house. Not a home.

Eddie continues to rub soothing circles into Steve's back as he lets it all out, explaining his woes as best he can through a sore throat and runny nose. Eventually he pulls Steve into a proper hug-turned-cuddle until his breathing steadies and he isn't shaking anymore.

"I'm sorry." Eddie holds his breath, hoping it doesn’t trigger another panic attack.

"No--don’t be. Thank you."

"For what? Making you cry?"

"For caring enough to bring it up, even if it was a lot. But mostly for being here, after. Just..."

Steve didn't have to finish his sentence. Eddie knew what he was trying to say.

Thank you for staying. Thank you for holding me. Thank you for loving me.

"Always, Stevie. I'll always be here for you."

Steve squeezes him, and Eddie squeezes back once, twice.

He doesn't say it, but Steve understands.

Happy Birthday... I love you.

[bluewolfangel01]

Do you think you could possibly write something about the obey me brothers finding out MC has a body pillow? Like how they react when they find out. They stop by to surprise MC only to see them cuddling up to said body pillow. If not I totally understand but I was thinking no harm in asking

I most certainly can! There's absolutely no harm in asking me, and thank you for the ask

-Mc with a body pillow-

The Brothers finding out edition

Its been a while since Mc left the Devildom

Although the brothers and them could still text and call thanks to the D.D.D, it wasn't the same as being face to face

Some days were a bit worse then others, especially for Mc

At least the brothers had each other to keep each other company, although its debatable to how much that actually helps, Mc was sadly alone at their place

Mc had gotten so used to the brothers' presence that their place felt a bit... quiet

It was so bad it got to the point they couldn't even sleep well

That was until they tried out sleeping with a body pillow

Thankfully it worked, and Mc was finally able to sleep

Life in the human world was a bit better after that for Mc

Meanwhile the brothers were feeling worse by the day and nothing seemed to help them get over the fact that their human was no longer in the same world as them

Each one was affected differently and it showed no matter how hard they try to hide it

Belphie was more lethargic then before and seemed to hold little interest for anything that wasn't sleeping, sometimes he'd even wake up thinking his pillow was Mc

Beel seemed a bit more hungrier and ate more, although he ate so much that it was hard to tell at first, he was also a bit less happy although he tried to hide it for his brothers sake, it was the worst when he found/realized he was craving Mc's cooking

Asmo was dejected, he never held the true wild party animal energy, he tended not to talk quite as much, and was missing having someone to help him with makeup or watch his at home fashion shows

Satan kept to himself more and would usually be found in his room or a library unless there was something urgent going on, sometimes he'd catch himself reading aloud like he would when him and Mc were together and they didn't feel like reading

Levi also holed himself in his room more, his spirit was a bit low since his player 2 wasn't around, and he wouldn't break into a full on rant about a video game, anime, or manga

Mammon spent more then he did typically on a variety of items, whether it was actually needed or a simple impulse purchase, he missed being able to mess with and being around his human

Lucifer was stricter and worked more than usual, but that was mainly because of his brothers and their behavior, other then that he would have a tad bit more demonus and become a bit disheartened

After seeing the brothers' behavior, Diavolo decided to lend the brothers an offer, to go to the human world for a day

They gladly accepted the offer and were on their way

They arrived at early morning, when it was still dark out, inside Mc's home, thanks to Barbatos of course

Lucifer stood still while trying to take in the place while the others freely moved about inspecting knickknacks, furniture, and decorations

While wandering about Belphie found the door that led into Mc's bedroom

It was dark and not much was able to be seen or distinguished from the darkness, but Belphie was able to slightly see the shape of the bed and a human sized lump under the covers

He quickly made his way over and layed next to/on the lump and he promptly feel asleep

Beel and Mammon found the room next, while keeping quite, Beel moved to lay behind Belphie and Mammon moved to lay on the otherside of the lump

One by one the rest of the brothers found the bedroom and was now laying on the bed

Except for Lucifer, who was unable to lay down as well even if he wanted to since there was barely any space left, so he stood by the door

The bed was very cramped and it was difficult for the 6 brothers to stay on and not crush the sleeping Mc

They started to shift to get comfy but then it turned into a silent-ish fight over space

They were somewhat loud and of course there was quite a bit of squirming

Although they each kept saying that the others would wake up Mc none of them stopped

That is until they heard the sound of a toilet flushing

That stopped them dead in their tracks

Another door was opened to reveal a very sleepy looking Mc who was rubbing their eyes

The brothers were silent and a bit wide eyed, meanwhile Mc was wondering what kind of crazy dream or hallucination were they having

On one hand they wanted to go hug and greet Mc, but on the other they were wondering who was in the bed instead

"W-whats going on?" Mc mumbled

Lucifer approached slowly, "We're sorry to disturb you so early Mc, however we were permitted to visit you for a day and they (motions to his brothers still in a daze on the bed) wanted to see you as soon as possible."

Mc just looked at him for a second, sizing him up, and the next they moved a finger to poke him

When confirming that the whole scenario wasn't a dream they simply said "Oh."

Asmo was the first to awake from the daze and rushed at Mc, the others soon followed and mirrored his actions

Once each boy was greeted and Mc was a bit more awake Belphie spoke up

"If you were in the bathroom, then who's or what's in your bed?"

"O-oh yeah, that."

Mc moved away from the demon brothers towards the bed, turned on the bed side lamp, pushed back the covers, and took out what was underneath

They gathered it in their arms, turned around, and revealed a body pillow that had a modest cover

There were a few moments of silence in the room, the brothers not daring to make a move or sound

Mc would've sworned they could see the intimidating hidden eyes manga trope on the brothers

"G-guys? L-listen, it's not what you think! It was just a bit difficult to sleep without cuddling something person sized!"

They toss the pillow so that it lands closer to the farther side of bed

"I promise, it wasn't meant to replace you or anything! It was just a temporary solution! Please calm down"

Thankfully the brothers stood down, although the murdery glint in all their eyes still remained

Mc corralled them to the living room area and was able to start actually enjoying their demons' presence and company

The day was spent in Mc's home chatting away, watching movies, eating, cuddling, etc.

Throughout the day though Mc would have to play hide and seek with their body pillow since it somehow, mysteriously, kept vanishing

It was actually kind of impressive for how well they were able to hide such a decently sized item multiple times

When the day was over and the brothers had to leave, Mc made sure the pillow was in there sights in case it mysteriously disappeared again

It becomes an unspoken rule to never take that pillow into the Devildom, EVER

If the rule is broken, well, let's just say Cerburus is going to have a very short lived chew toy

[skzdust]

Room 514

Part 1

This fic is the result of 1. Me going on a road trip and 2. A poll I did on here! I have the trip back coming up in a few days so I might do another poll to decide what I write on the way back lol!

Summary: You’re moving into a new suite halfway through your sophomore year at Stay University, populated by three guys: Jisung, Changbin, and Bang Chan. You meet their friends and quickly become a part of their group, but you find yourself wanting more with Jisung…

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Includes: slow burn (if I have the patience to write it slow lol), college au, roommates, besties with skz, gender neutral reader (if smut happens reader will be afab)

Word count: 1.3k

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Masterlist

——-

The lock to room 514 beeped, its LED turning green, and you moved your phone away. You took a breath and turned the handle.

You didn’t need to worry. The suite’s living room was empty. The decoration gave you hope, though; it was neat and decorated mostly in shades of blue, with a sunny yellow cover on the couch. You hoped it was like this all the time and not just because you were moving in today.

The suite had four single bedrooms, two half bathrooms, one shower, and a living room with a mini-fridge and microwave. You’d been living in a different hall just a few days ago, sharing a room with another girl, Catherine. She’d been awful ever since you’d walked in on her cheating on her boyfriend with another guy, spreading rumors and turning all your friends against you. You’d pleaded with your RA for a single room, and she’d helped you find a suite in another hall. It was a room with three guys, which made you a little anxious, but you’d jumped at the chance nonetheless.

“Hello?” You said, a little louder than you usually would speak.

Nothing.

You found room D, your room, in the hallway to the left. Room C, next door, had a handwritten sign beside the “C”: “Han Jisung.”

One of your roommates. You knew the others were named Changbin and Bang Chan, but you hadn’t met any of the three.

You pressed your phone to the lock on room D and walked in.

The room was small and bare, but you smiled at the fact that you’d have your own space at all. A lofted bed with plenty of storage space underneath was against the back wall, next to a desk and chair, and a tall chest of drawers was beside the closet.

You climbed up on the bed to look out the window. You had a rather ugly view of the parking lot, but the window faced South, so at least you’d get plenty of light.

There was a loud knock behind you.

You whirled around, almost falling off the bed. Potentially the most attractive man you’d ever seen in real life was leaning in your doorway, a grin on his face. “You must be y/n!”

“Yeah, that’s… me.” You said with a little laugh. “And you’re…?”

“Jisung.” His smile grew. “Han Jisung.”

You hopped off the bed. “Jisung. You’re next door!”

“Yeah! Me and Changbin and Bang Chan are excited to have another roommate, it’s been just the three of us for a while.”

“Well, I’m kind of escaping a situation at the moment, so I’m looking forward to a fresh start, too.” You tried not to let your thoughts of Catherine make you angry.

“Well, you’re always welcome to hang out with us.”

“Thanks, that’s nice of you.”

“Actually, we’re having some people over tonight.” He raised his eyebrows. “Chill with us, if you don’t have to study or anything. We’re gonna watch Love Island.”

You grinned. “Love Island? Seriously?”

“How can you not love stupid reality TV with a bunch of hot people?” Jisung held his hands up. “Just saying, just saying. We’re probably gonna order pizza, too, if that helps convince you.”

“Not judging, just wasn’t expecting it.” You shrugged. “But yeah, I don’t have anything going on tonight, that sounds fun!”

“Sounds good. Do you need any help moving stuff in?”

“I think I’ve got it.” You waved your hand. “Just some stuff in the hallway.”

He nodded. “Let me know if you want help.”

“I will.”

He gave a lazy salute. “See you tonight!” He pushed off the doorway and twirled into the hall, and you heard his door click shut.

You squeezed your eyes shut, sending up a silent prayer. Please, please, please let him be single.

—

You stood in the center of the room, doing a little circle and judging it cute enough to be finished.

You’d been unpacking and decorating for a few hours, but the sounds of people in the living room had started about an hour ago, so you’d slowed down. You wanted to see Jisung again, but you were a bit anxious to meet his friends, as well as your other two roommates.

But there were only so many times you could rearrange your books or organize your clothes, and you knew it was a good idea to go out and join the party.

You checked your reflection in the mirror on the inside of the closet door, smoothing your hair, and left your room.

There were eight people in the living room of the suite, the only one you recognized being Jisung. And… wait, was that the guy you’d been on a project with in music technology last year? Hwang Hyunjin?

“Y/n!” Jisung jumped up from the couch when he saw you, beaming. “Guys, this is our new roommate!”

“Y/n?” The guy you were 99% sure was Hyunjin said, tilting his head. “I know you! We did a project together.”

“Yeah! I remember that! It’s Hyunjin, right?”

He smiled softly. “Yeah, Hyunjin. Nice to meet you again!”

You tried to remember back to the project. You’d loved the class, and you remembered the project going well. Hyunjin had been great to work with, doing his share of the planning and the legwork. You’d found him cute then, too, but freshman year you’d been even more timid, and you hadn’t made a move. You were kind of glad for that now, though.

Because Jisung was walking across the room to you, and standing right next to you, and you almost missed what he started to say because you could smell whatever cologne he used, and it smelled good.

“Okay, around the room we have...” He pointed at each of the guys. “Seungmin, Minho, Jeongin, you know Hyunjin, Felix, Bang Chan, he’s one of our roommates, and Changbin, he’s our other roommate.” He pointed to himself. “And you know me. Jisung.”

You nodded at each name, doing your best to match them to faces. “Got it. I’m decent with names, so I’ll do my best.”

Jisung bumped your shoulder, and you giggled. “I’m sure you’ve got it.” He made a shooing motion at Seungmin, who was sitting on the floor. “Pizza’s behind Seungmin.”

“What kind?”

“There’s pepperoni and there’s cheese.” Seungmin picked up a plate. “Here, I can grab you a slice, what do you want?”

“Just a slice of cheese, thanks.”

Seungmin handed Jisung the plate, and he made a little mock bow before holding it out to you. You smiled, taking it. “Thank you, butler.”

“Of course, my liege.” He winked, and a cloud of butterflies took flight in your chest.

“Nice to meet you, y/n!” Changbin leaned over the back of his chair and extended his hand. You shook it.

“Changbin, right?”

“Mhm. Roommates!”

“Yeah, that’s right.” You nodded.

“He sings a lot. You can tell him to shut up if you need to.” Bang Chan grinned. “I’m Bang Chan, I’m your other roommate.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. I don’t mind singing.”

“I mean, he has a decent enough voice, but it’s… frequent.” Jisung widened his eyes as he nodded. “Quite frequent.”

“Oh, come on.” Changbin rolled his eyes. “You all should be honored that you get to hear my singing. I’m gonna be recognized for my talent someday!”

“He also raps.” Jeongin added. “I’m sure you’ll hear that, too.”

“I’m an even better of a rapper than I am a singer!” He pointed around the room. “Feel honored!”

Felix held a hand to his chest. “We all feel so honored. All hail the most beautiful voice, Changbin!”

“That’s more like it!”

You laughed with the rest of them. This group felt more comfortable than you’d ever felt with your old friends, and you couldn’t help thinking that maybe moving in with Changbin, Bang Chan, and Jisung was meant to be.

[watermelonlovershigh]

Friends Who Share Mutual Emotions {part 3.} (housemate!harry series)

Arguments and Confessions {part 2.} (housemate!harry series)

AN: i've been in a writing mood lately so i hope you enjoy me spitting out these stories left and right lol. anyways, here is part 3 to my housemate series. before you ask, yes there will be a part 4 and hopefully a couple more after that. let me know how you liked it and make sure to leave your feedback. thank you and enjoy!

This story contains: mentions of one-night stands, confessions of feelings, slight angst, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - soft!harry - au harry }

word count- 1,372

Harry confesses that you're the women he likes and after giving you some time to think, you have an eventful conversation about your mutual feelings and how you'd like to move forward within your friendship.

Looking deeply in your eyes, Harry answers clearly, "Her name..... her name is Y/n." The weight of his confession leaves you standing in the kitchen, completely shocked. When you initially asked him about his love interest, you never anticipated that he would reveal his feelings for you. Although he described some of your qualities, you didn't think much of it, as many people can possess similar traits.

Realizing that you need some time to process his words, Harry rises from his stool and states, "I don't expect you to feel the same way about me or anything. I'll give you some space to think, alright?" With that, he turns around and retreats back to his bedroom.

Now standing alone in the kitchen, you find yourself torn about what to do. On one hand, the man who kindly allowed you to stay in his home as a housemate, who eventually became your friend, and whom you've developed feelings for, has just confessed his affection for you. It seems like the ideal outcome, but what if something goes wrong? You would risk losing your best friend and a place to live.

On the other hand, if everything goes well, you could finally experience a fulfilling relationship. You could put an end to the casual encounters and truly understand the intimacy that others have experienced in Harry's bed. You would have the opportunity to feel his touch on your skin and savor his kisses, something you had only imagined during fleeting encounters with strangers.

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

You head to Harry's bedroom and upon reaching his door, you give it a hesitant knock. A soft voice responds with, "Come in." and you take that as your signal to enter. Inside, you find him sitting up in bed with his cat Pixie beside him, and the TV showing old episodes of Friends.

Approaching his bed slowly, Harry gestures for you to sit beside him. After a deep breath, you confess, "I want you to know that I have feelings for you too, Harry. How could I not? You're kind and sweet, and anyone would be foolish not to have a crush on you. But, I'm afraid."

Harry turns off the TV to focus on you. "Afraid of what, Y/n?" he asks, "We both like each other. What's there to fear?"

"It's not that simple, Harry," you respond with a hint of frustration. Why can't he see your concerns? Maybe it's a gender difference. Men don't worry about relationships as much as women do. Well at least from your personal experiences.

"Can you explain then, please? I want to understand your fears so we can move forward in a way that works for both of us."

Shifting uncomfortably on the bed, you express, "Harry, what if things don't work out between us? What happens then? I could lose a friend and I might not have enough money to cover regular rent in London."

"Y/n, our mutual feelings don't automatically require us to rush into a romantic relationship. We can proceed at a comfortable pace, one day at a time. Even if we don't progress beyond friendship, I value our bond too much to risk losin' it. As for your concern about losin' a place to stay, rest assure that I would never evict you if things don't work out romantically. You were my housemate first and foremost, and that won't change. Well, unless you want to move out someday that is."

Hearing his words have made your eyes gloss over. You can hear the sincerity in his voice and it makes your heart swell. But, you still need some clarification to move forward. "So like, where do we go from here, Harry? I don't want to think we're one thing but you assume we're something else. I don't want to constantly be questioning where we stand. What's too much or what's not enough."

Harry adjusts his posture, leaning closer to you. He carefully reaches out for your hands and clasps them within his larger grasp, holding them gently as he begins to speak. "As I mentioned earlier, Y/n, we can take this slow. Let our connection develop naturally. At this moment, I would describe our relationship as friends, but friends who share mutual emotions. And in response to a question I know you may have, no, I will not be sleepin' with anyone else. And I don't expect..."

Anticipating his next words, you swiftly interject, "No, neither am I. I mean, being involved with someone else intimately. I can promise you that. Besides, I never truly enjoyed having one-night stands. I only sought them out as a means to conceal my feelings for you. But now that my feelings are out in the open, there's no reason to hide them any longer. From now on I only want you."

Chuckling in relief, Harry murmurs, "Just me, huh?" He was incredibly anxious that you might still have the desire to sleep with other people, even though that didn't make much sense after you had confessed your feelings for him. However, he couldn't be entirely certain.

You lean forward, wrapping your arms around Harry's body, embracing him tightly. "Of course, Harry. I would never do that to you. Besides, most of the men I slept with were unsatisfactory, so I'm perfectly fine with giving up my one-night stands."

Harry reciprocates the embrace, then teasingly asks, "Unsatisfactory? Are you tellin' me those muscular, macho men you brought home hardly ever satisfied you?"

You respond, your voice filled with affection against his neck, "That's right. And when they did, it was usually because I was thinking of you."

"Alright, let's end that conversation right here or we'll have a problem on our hands and break our 'takin' it slow' rule." Harry remarks, trying to maintain a sense of caution. If you kept talking about how you always thought of him while having sex with all those strangers, he'd get hard in his pants and he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable right now. Nor does he want to move that fast. Like he said, he genuinely would like to take whatever you are, slow.

You laugh at his words and playfully say, "Can we take a nap? I'm feeling tired. Didn't get much sleep last night."

Harry nods in the embrace you still hold and replies, "Yeah, we can take a nap if you'd like. I didn't get much sleep last night either."

As you sit up, you carefully shift towards Harry's side where he's preparing a space for you to rest. "Seriously?" you inquire. Although you noticed his exhaustion when he entered the kitchen earlier, you didn't consider that it might be due to a lack of sleep.

"Yeah," Harry begins to coo while helping you under his duvet, "felt awful with how I spoke to you last night. The guilt ate me alive and I couldn't sleep."

Now laying side by side, facing each other, you whisper out, "Awe, well you can rest easy now. I forgive you." As your eyes flutter shut, Harry can't help but think about how you're too far away from him. Even though you're literally just six inches apart in reality.

So without thinking, he draws himself closer to you and wraps you in his arms. Which in turn has you pressed up against his clothed chest. "Is this alright?" Harry whispers quietly. Although he wishes to take things slowly, cuddling is typically considered a leisurely activity, isn't it? It remains innocent and platonic.

"Yes, very much alright." you reply and soon after fall asleep. The musky smell Harry produces along with the warmth of his body lulls you right to sleep. It may be only nine in the morning but with your lack of sleep the night before, have no trouble falling unconscious.

Harry also falls into a deep slumber. The comfort of having you in his arms lulls him into a state of relaxation, leading him to quickly doze off. His cat Pixie has now settled at the foot of the bed, peacefully asleep alongside you both. Harry's once anxious room is now filled with tranquility. The unfolding of your friendship will become more apparent when you wake up later today.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

 // @luv-flor7777  // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown  // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar  // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone //  @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry  // @shadowygladiatorlight  // @manifestrry  //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts  // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

A Shift Occurs {part 4.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

[macabr3-barbi3]

Nothing I Can't Handle- Chapter 2 [Alastor/Reader]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54337009/chapters/139143145

Chapter 1!

Tags: Reader-Insert, Alastor in Rut, Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor, Rough Sex, Possessive Sex, blood kink? maybe if you squint, Biting

Round 2! Who doesn't love a nice chase through the bayou?

Comments and feedback fuel my lifeforce- let me know what you think! 💕

Chapter 1 🦌 Chapter 3

When Alastor’s rut comes around the second time, you’re ready.

The first one had been… an experience. Not a bad one by any means- while sore you were thoroughly sated, Alastor having been very particular about making sure that you came just as many times as he did, if not more. By the end of the three day period you had been holed up in his room you were covered in a thin layer of sweat and various bodily fluids, the last day having been the most exhaustive. Your throat was sore from the constant noises coming from you; a headache from the dehydration of not getting enough water between rounds, though Alastor had done his best to remember to conjure a glass here and there; a variety of cuts and bruises littering your skin, a collage of delicious depravity. When Alastor had finally allowed you to leave your room, the rut having passed, you pressed on the bruises occasionally to give yourself a reminder of the time you had shared.

He acted like nothing had changed- he wasn’t actively avoiding you like he had been in the days leading up to the rut, but he just… treated you like everyone else. Which was fine. Good, even! There was no reason for anyone to suspect anything between the two of you when he did the same things to do that he did to Charlie or Vaggie. Popping up when you least expected him to, leaning into your personal space, resting an elbow on your shoulder or head when he had the angle to do so.

You weren’t foolish enough to expect that he would want to date you or anything like that- it was just a transaction to him, a way to get what he needed by giving you something that you wanted, even if you hadn’t figured out what that was yet. A physical need that had to be fulfilled or he would go back to that snarling tower of a demon that stalked the hotel and made everyone cower.

Still, when he approached you one day months after the first one to inform you that the rut would be coming again soon, you prepared yourself. 

You chug water whenever you can, and make sure to eat regular meals in the days leading up to it, squirreling away whatever little snacks you could stash in your room without luring out the bugs that Nifty liked to chase- Alastor’s powers seemed to draw the line at conjuring food, so when he could tear himself from your side he would journey to the kitchen and bring you small samplings of leftovers. 

You spend your evenings trying to convince Alastor to have more meat when he joins the group at dinner, to make sure he could keep his strength up as well. He raises an eyebrow at you but does as requested. 

When the night comes around, Alastor finds you in the lobby and asks you in a hushed tone to meet him at his room when you retire for the evening, and your heart rate spikes in your chest when you agree. When he vanishes you sprint to your room, collecting the assortment of nuts and snack cakes and pretzels and candy that you had amassed into a bag before you make your way to his room. At this you were nervous- you’d never been inside before, the last time having been sequestered into your own bedroom. You hoped he wouldn’t mind your bringing something to eat along. 

When the door swung open Alastor raised an eyebrow at the bag on your shoulder. “I hope that’s not a change of clothes,” he says as he guides you into the room with a sweep of his arm. “Because you won’t be needing them.” His tone is not salacious or flirty- a statement of fact rather than a come-on.

You place it on the table by the door as you start pulling items from it. “It’s not. I noticed, last time, that you don’t seem to be able to conjure food- I thought this might make things a little easier on both of us. If I have something to snack on I won’t drop dead of hunger and you don’t have to leave so often.”

His eye twitches as he watches you, and you second guess yourself. “I can- I can get rid of them if you want, take them back to my room-“

“Not necessary,” he says, and waves a hand; the assortment of snacks reappears on the stand next to the bed across the room. “I apologize for the pause. The part of my brain currently being overtaken by the rut did not appreciate the idea that there was something I could not successfully obtain for my… partner.”

“Oh,” you say, and realize with a blush that that sounds stupid. “Well, either way, we should be set for this time! I’ve been making sure to drink lots of water so I won’t get dehydrated, there’s some bottles in the bag as well…” You run through the various things that you had been doing to prepare for this week, and over the course of your tirade Alastor’s smile seems more and more strained. You finally stop your mouth from moving and just watch him as he watches you. “I… guess I maybe did too much, huh?”

“Not at all, dear,” he says like he’s on autopilot, and he lifts your hand to his lips to place a kiss to the back of it. “I am just… shocked, I suppose, that you’ve done so much to prepare and make this easier for the both of us when you’ve still not decided what you want for your end of the bargain.”

 “Right,” you say, face flaming as you make your way past him and to the bed. You perch yourself on the edge of it. “I’ve been thinking about it, I promise!”

You totally haven’t been thinking about it. You were perfectly content to just continue helping Alastor with his ruts- to be so close to him regularly was enough for the time being. The orgasms were a huuuge plus.

He watches you with his eyes narrowed before he sighs. “If you say so, dear- do let me know when you’ve decided. In the meantime, I do have some final tasks to complete before I’m prepared to be incapacitated with you. I hadn’t expected you to meet me so soon.” He eyes you sitting on the edge of his bed and hums. “Though I must say I’m rather pleased to have you in my own territory this time, as it were. You’re free to use my space as you please while you wait for my return.” With a faint buzz of static he’s gone, and you’re left in the comfortable warmth of Alastor’s room.

You lean back into the pillows, relishing in the soft sheets beneath your skin. They were red- of course- and you let yourself spread your hands across them. They smelled of Alastor, like the woods and spices and rain on the streets when you were alive. 

Speaking of Alastor’s scent, he said he was glad to have you in his area this time, and you think about when he made the initial proposition and said that he could smell other things on you- maybe it was the deer part of him wanting to make sure that you smelled like him this time, made him feel like you were properly… ‘mated.’ The thought makes you blush, but you don’t think you’re wrong.

You catch sight of the bathroom door across the room. He had said you had free reign while he was out- while you waited you could take a shower, rid yourself of the scents of the hotel, and perhaps that would put Alastor more at ease when he came back. You make your way into the generously sized room, turn the water as hot as you can get it, and wash the day off yourself.

When you come back into the main room Alastor is waiting there, and his eyes widen at the sight of you in what you assumed to be his bathrobe that you had found on the back of the door. “You’ve certainly made yourself at home, darling,” he comments, but his eyes are roving over your form from head to toe, pausing at the black A emblazoned now over your heart.

“I, uh. I thought maybe you would prefer it if I didn’t stink of the hotel when you got back,” you say. “You mentioned that last time, and with the comment about being in your territory this time I just figured, you know. A clean slate was best.” You shrug your shoulders, the silk of the robe sliding off on one side from how oversized it was on you. “Fuck-”

“Allow me.” Alastor is in front of you then, and despite the split-second thought that he would simply slide the robe off your entirely- he had said that you wouldn’t be needing clothing- he simply rights it on your frame, taking a moment to admire the A. He leans down and buries his nose in the space between your chin and shoulder, inhaling deeply. “The robe, while perhaps unintended, is a nice touch. Not only do you not smell of the hotel or its inhabitants, but you smell like me. Like mine.” He runs a hand down your arm and allows a clawed finger to drag the silk up your wrist.

“Yours,” you agree, and at his sharp intake of breath against your neck you add, “for the week! Whatever you need me to be, I will. Um. Be that. For the week.”

“Perfect,” he says, and your brain oozes with the warmth of the praise. “I actually do have a request of you this time beyond just allowing me to… have you.”

“Sure, what is it?”

You’re once again struck by your possible stupidity when it comes to this demon- blindly agreeing to the things he proposes before you really understand what comes with it. He could ask to tie you down, or if he could use his magic in some way to be involved in the proceedings. He could ask to bite you, to really chomp down like he had last time but tear flesh away instead of simply releasing you- though you do think you might draw the line there.

He eyes you through lowered lids for a moment before he steps to the side of you and gestures to the swamp that he’s got materialized in his room- it had been there since he moved in, if you went by what Vaggie said. “If you are not opposed, I would like you to run,” he says simply, reaching out to tighten the sash of the robe around your waist.

You glance into the darkness of the night that awaits at the border between there and here- where Hotel meets bayou, where reality meets… whatever that was. It had to be some kind of deer thing. “Got it. Is there a point to that? I’ll do it,” you assure him, hands raised to show that you weren’t trying to argue the point. “I’m just curious.”

He hums a bit. “Yes, I’d think so. As satisfying as it is that you so easily submit to me, the restless buck in me wishes for more of a courting, so to speak. In nature a doe will dance around the buck, out of reach for several days before allowing herself to be mated.” He flashes you a tense smile. “I think a refreshing chase through the bayou will satisfy that craving quite nicely.”

“I see.” You look back into the swamp- it’s dark, but the stars are providing a decent amount of light and there seems to be a clear path through the trees to some extent, plenty of space for you to make some distance if he gave you a head start. Were you supposed to circle back here, to the bedroom? You could tell he was a little nervous about the request, but it didn’t seem all that bad. “So that’s it- I run and you chase me?”

“Haha! What little faith you have in me, dear- you run, and I will catch you.”

His tone makes you shiver. “R-right.” You swallow hard and hold your hands into tight fists at your side. “And- what happens when you catch me?”

Alastor pats you on the head like you’ve seen him to do Charlie. “You’re a smart gal,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m sure you can figure it out during your head start- we may as well start now since you’re agreeable to the idea.” He glances at his watch before starting to remove his overcoat and roll his sleeves up to the elbow. “It’s not a terribly large area, so I believe ten seconds should be sufficient!”

“W- now? Ten seconds?”

His smile is almost bored despite the burning intent in his eyes. “Well, it’s only nine now.”

You know better than to stall any longer, and you bolt-  perhaps some small blessing of magic he’s concocted, but there are no sharp sticks or rocks under your bare feet as you take off into the night, straight down the path you had noticed in the trees earlier. You stay mindful of any roots that may trip you as you run, your legs aching, heart beating faster than it ever has before, living or dead.

And yet- the thrill is exhilarating. You don’t think Alastor would actually harm you in any real way, bruises and scrapes from the last rut aside that you’re sure you’ll get a repeat of. But you could see why part of him wanted this. Craved it. A reward is better when you’ve earned it, when you’ve really worked for it.

And by the sounds of crashing trees and snapping branches that followed in your wake a few seconds later, he was certainly working for it.

You reach a clearing in the trees and turn to make a sharp right, sure that he was thinking you would continue straight on. As you do though you catch sight of the sky between the treetops- thousands of blinking stars with wisps of clouds shot throughout the deep, endless blue. It’s almost enough to make you stop and stare, take a moment to really appreciate what Alastor was capable of with this creation alone. It was breathtaking. 

A whisper of movement reminds you that you aren’t alone in this astonishing dimension, and you sidestep just in time to avoid the grasp of Alastor’s claws as he reaches for you.

He looks feral - antlers extended and catching on the low hanging branches of the trees nearby, his eyes dark and crazed as he watches you take a couple steps back. “Come now, darling,” he says, and there’s red dripping from either side of his mouth. “There’s no use in that. I’ve found you.”

“Thought you said you wanted to catch me,” you snark before you can implement your brain-to-mouth filter. The adrenaline is coursing in your veins, keeping you light on your feet. “Not play hide and seek.” 

Alastor laughs at you, the sound echoing through the wilderness. “How cheeky!” He stalks towards you, a pace forward for every one of yours backwards. “Rest assured, I will catch you, dear.”

You offer him your own smile, dancing backwards with every lurch. You know he could catch you easily, knew that he was just taunting you, toying with you. But God, if it wasn’t fun, even as dangerous as it was to mess with someone as powerful as Alastor. “That’s big talk for someone who still doesn’t have his hands on me yet.” You turn, to book it back into the trees in the opposite direction, knowing that you won’t get far.

You stumble. The cliche of it isn’t lost on you as you go down to your knees, and notice one of Alastor’s shadow tentacles slipping away from roughly ankle level.

You still try to escape, to draw it out just that little bit longer, twisting to one side as Alastor rushes you. All that does is get you facing upwards, the robe falling off your shoulders to drape across your collarbones before he has you pinned with a hand to each wrist. 

“Well well, what do we have here?” He asks with his eyes lowered, pupils dilated as he takes you in. “It would seem that I’ve caught you.”

“You cheated,” you say breathlessly, as he slots himself between your legs, bringing your thighs up to rest on either side of his hips. “I could have kept going if you played fair.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” he agrees, and then he’s trailing his lips down your neck, kissing at your shoulders and throat before he pulls the robe off of you to pool beneath your body. “You gave quite the effort- I was surprised to see you get so far with your head start. I have no doubt you could have kept the chase going a while longer.” He sighs, like the idea of not having that now was disappointing. “Another time, perhaps.” With that he releases your hands and digs his claws into your hips and grinds against you, the drag of his clothed erection against your bare sex sending sparks up your spine.

His eyes are closed, head thrown back as he groans in pleasure. His antlers, like last time, are extended to the sides, unrestrained with the openness of the space. He doesn’t seem to be as lost in it this time, perhaps because you were with him at the beginning of the rut and keeping the worst of it at bay before he had the chance to get animalistic and frustrated.

It's almost better, in a way. The last time had been fun- so much fun, you had zero complaints that you hadn’t already addressed with the supply of snacks and water sitting by the bed currently- but Alastor seems calmer in his need this time. Still at the mercy of his biology but less frantic with it, even with the chase that had led to the two of you here on the forest floor, sky full of stars above you. You would agree to nearly anything he asked of you to make things easier on him if needed.

He leans down over you, still grinding his hips while running his teeth along whatever he can reach of your body. He’s perfectly positioned for you to grab hold of his antlers again so you do so, relishing in the full body shiver that courses through him at the sensation. Using one hand to keep your lower halves pinned together, the other slides deliciously along your back to twist into your hair, pulling your mouth to his with a groan that vibrates through your being. 

It would almost be unfair how aroused you were if you didn’t know that Alastor was in the same state, the drag of his length against you combined with the adrenaline of the chase leaving you slick and needy. “Mine, mine, mine,” he’s mumbling against your lips, tongue darting out with every repetition to brush along yours.

You let one of your hands slide down between your bodies like it had last time, let your trembling fingers circle the base of him and moan into his mouth at the feeling of him, hard and hot under your touch. He jerks back from you, his eyes frantic and panting through his slack jaw. “Darling, please, I can’t- can’t think if you-”

“Please,”  you whine, and he flexes in your hand. “Please, Alastor, fuck-” You release your grip and roll your hips into his. “Don’t think- whatever you need, take it.”

He clenches his eyes shut, bringing his knees forward so he can rest your lower body on his thighs so he can free up the hand holding you to him. He pulls his hips back far enough to slide a finger through your wetness and into the tight clench of your body, the evidence of your arousal and how ready you are for him tearing a harsh moan from his throat. “You astonish me,” he says, and the praise winds itself around the synapses firing off in your brain as he brings his fingers to his mouth, long tongue twisting around the digits to taste you. “Delicious- you’re so lovely, I want everything .” The visual of it- this powerful demon, on his knees in the dirt with you, licking your arousal off his fingers like some delectable treat as he fights to maintain his composure, his manners- sends a pulse of want through your entire being, and not having him inside of you is no longer an option.

When he lines himself up to thrust into you you beat him to the punch, pushing your hips forward to meet him halfway, and then all the way as the move allows him to slide in to the hilt. A choked off whimper escapes you, body shivering with the force of his rutting into you. He’s hitting that sweet spot inside of you, the head of his cock slamming it with every thrust, and you want to cry from the pleasure of it. 

“Perfect,” he whispers, his lips still close enough to your ear that you can hear the sweet nothings that tumble from his tongue. “My mate, so sweet, so- fuck -” He falters for a moment, his hips stuttering hard into you before he comes back to himself and resumes his steady rhythm, the push and pull of his body into yours driving you to insanity. When his eyes open they are black, the little red dials of his pupils ticking steadily in time with his thrusts. His antlers are growing still, their size staggering, the dark jagged lines of them breaking up your view of the stars when you can manage to tear your eyes away from Alastor’s face. “ Mine . Say it. Tell me.” His smile is desperate, expression dazed and full of need. “You take me so well; fucking say it, I need to hear you-”

“Yours,” you cry out, your thighs tensing with the force of your rising orgasm. “Fuck, Alastor, please, yours-”

Arms wrapped possessively around you he leans back, pulling you with him to an upright position. He's still sat on his knees in the dirt, the sounds coming from where you’re joined loud and lewd in the relative silence of the bayou. He keeps you clutched to his frame, claws digging delicious lines into the canvas of your back. “Fuck,” he’s gasping into the space between you, railing harder into your body as he loses his pace, hands coming down to hold your hips stationary and fuck into you from below. “Fuck, darling, mine - ” A wrecked groan of your name is the only warning you have before he stills as far inside your warmth as he can get himself, the move dragging him against that spot inside that sends you right over the edge with him.

He doesn’t bite down as hard this time but he still sinks his teeth into your shoulder, the sharp pain of it giving an edge to your release as you shake in Alastor’s arms, a sound like a wounded animal coming from you and seeming almost at home in the darkness of the trees.

Like last time, when he removes his teeth from your skin he laps at the blood that spills from the wound. You release your grip on his antlers at last and your arms drape over his shoulders, letting your head drop forward to rest on them. He sighs contentedly into your skin, the air making your new bitemark sting. The buzzing and rustling of creatures in the trees has resumed now that you and Alastor have finished, and stands slowly to place you on your feet, pulling out of the heat of your body in the same move. Your legs are shaky but stay underneath you at least, and he watches you with narrowed eyes after tucking himself back into his slacks.

Something about his gaze on you makes you nervous, now that his mind is temporarily clear of the frantic need from his rut. You crouch down to grab the discarded silk robe, now smeared with dirt and littered with leaves and sticks from the ground. “This m-might be ruined now,” you say quietly, still a little off kilter from the force of your orgasm. You hold it out to him, and while his jaw tightens a bit he still gives you a smile.

“Not an issue, my dear,” he assures you as he plucks it from your fingers. With a wave of his hand it’s as good as new, and he gestures to you to turn so he can place it back on your shoulders, helping to ease it over your arms and tightening the sash around your waist like he had before the chase. “I rather think it suits you- for the duration of my rut, at the very least.”

You blush. “I’ll make sure to throw it on every time,” you say with a chuckle, testing the strength of your legs with a couple steps. “I think I can manage to walk this time, but I might need a little-”

“Of course.” He holds his arm out for you to grasp, the picture of a gentlemen despite the chase and rough fucking he had just given you. “I would transport us back but I’m afraid I’ve expended much of my energy in chasing you out here.” He watches you from the corner of his eyes, and part of you thinks that he just finds it satisfying to see your knees weak because of him.

You glance back at the clearing as you walk away, and you can see the glow of the stars and moon where it cuts through the trees. “That was a really pretty spot,” you tell him, and his eyebrows raise. “Seriously- that whole area is just gorgeous. Is it a deer thing? Or something from, you know. Up there?” You point skyward, hoping he’ll understand that you mean from when he was alive without having to explicitly state it. 

His smile turns wistful. “A bit of both, I suppose,” he admits. “I’ve always found myself a bit more at peace among nature than anywhere else. The cacophony of living creatures, the cover of darkness for more illicit activities. It’s always brought me comfort.”

“Gives you some space for the more cervine activities too, huh? Like a nice chase through the trees.” You nudge him with your hip as the normal side of his room comes into view. “I really did make some good distance!”

Alastor smirks down at you. “You seem like you had a grand time running from me, darling. Perhaps we repeat the experiment- see how long you can evade me next time before I catch you.”

“If you can catch me without cheating I’m game,” you say, and yelp in surprise when he swipes an arm under your legs to carry you the way he had last time, depositing you onto the bed. You’re enveloped in his scent again he he lowers himself down to you, tongue trailing between the folds of the robe and descending, and before Alastor ensures that you’re so mindless with pleasure that you can’t sass him, you have the faint thought that you really should start thinking about what you want out of this deal before he asks again.

You can’t have him knowing that you’re content to keep going just like this, splayed in his bed with a sky full of stars just out of reach.

[melon-fodder]

BLOOM • T. Hiragi

Summary: Over time you fill Hiragi’s heart and home with little pieces of yourself.

Word Count: 1.2k

Note: for @seiwas subtle intimacies milestone collab: and there’s something, this feeling. The premise of this is so sweet. I just had to write something. Naturally, it’s extremely self indulgent and self-ship coded.

It’s raining outside by the time Hiragi gets back home, a paper bag in his hand that he’d had to hide under his jacket to keep breakfast from getting soggy.

Inside, he takes off his boots, putting them neatly on the shoe rack next to a pair of your sneakers that you likely kicked off and left. He straightens those too, shaking his head as he lines the heels up with the edge of the rack.

In the kitchen, Hiragi puts the breakfast pastries on a plate before popping them in the microwave for a short time, glancing around at everything he needs to get done today.

The dishes are clean and put up, but the towel is balled up on the counter rather than hanging off the hook like it should be. The fridge is still nicely stocked and organized the way he likes it, though the bottom shelf is home to 3 half-full cups—drinks you haven’t finished that have been cast off to the graveyard prematurely.

Hiragi removes all of them, pouring them out and rinsing the cups. You’ll pout at him later, and then he’ll remind you that 2 of those cups have been sitting untouched for at least 48 hours.

The microwave beeps, but all Hiragi does is turn it off, wants to keep your breakfast warm for when he finally manages to get you out of bed. The cool temperature in the apartment paired with the patter of rain against the windows leads him to believe that you’ll be asleep for at least another hour. At least.

So, he busies himself—folds the blankets on the couch, picks up the pair of fuzzy socks that have gotten trapped between the cushions, fluffs and straightens the ridiculous and regrettably fucking soft Squishmallow in the corner.

When he sneaks into the bedroom, you remain unmoving under the covers, quilt and weighted blanket pulled up to your chin. Your mouth is partially open, soft snores sticking in the back of your throat, and all Hiragi can do is smile as his chest tightens in a now very familiar way.

He stares for just a few moments longer before slipping into the bathroom, turning on the light only after the door is shut. The counter is home to two of everything: two tooth brushes, two types of toothpaste (“the mint is too spicy,” you told him years ago), two sticks of deodorant, two brands of leave-in conditioner.

Hiragi remembers when the space was mostly empty, when he only had a black shower curtain and a matching mat. Back when the caddy only held his body wash and favored shampoo.

Now, it’s full of different types of soap—organic, for sensitive skin, dermatologist approved lavender honey shit that he hates to love as much as he does. You use shampoo that smells like roses and lemon, and sometimes when you’re away Hiragi holds the bottle to his nose and takes a huge whiff in a pathetic attempt to get stoned off of it.

It used to not be like this. He used to not be like this. Hiragi lived the single life for many years—not in the ‘playboy, bring a new girl home every night’ sort of way, but in the ‘appreciates his own time and space’ sort of way.

His apartment was always clean, the only clutter being the corner in which he kept his guitar rack. There were no blankets on his couch, no stacks of books on the coffee table. His Netflix account was curated to him and him alone.

Now there are medical dramas in his Suggestions and Romantasy novels on the table. There are socks and blankets and toed-off shoes. At least one bra is hanging off the bathroom doorknob at any given time, and sitting on top of Hiragi’s very expensive amp among his very expensive guitars is a stuffed bear, its head big enough to hold the headphones he uses to practice.

There are pieces of you everywhere, and he likes it. He fucking loves it, actually. The apartment is so much more lived in, so much fuller with you in it. Since the very first time he brought you here after your first (long overdue) date, you’ve been slowly shedding pieces of yourself, leaving them for Hiragi to find and hold close to his heart.

That date, the one that somehow feels like yesterday and forever ago at the same time, Hiragi had taken you to get coffee and sweets at a little shop Sako had recommended, then had brought you back here where you had perched yourself in his lap as if you belonged there (you did; you’d belonged there since he first saw you). You’d played with the little hairs at the back of his neck, speaking casually and playfully all while Hiragi tried to keep his insides from imploding.

He tasted your kiss for the first time that evening—your mouth on his, warm and plush, tongue still sweet from the vanilla in your drink. You sighed and hummed and giggled as Hiragi grew more eager, your thighs squeezing where you straddled him, and only after the two of you were well and truly breathless did you tell him that you had a great time and couldn’t wait for your next date.

You accidentally forgot your beanie, the first of many of your belongings to find a home in his space.

After that it was a cardigan, a phone charger, panties, a toothbrush—until the relationship hit the serious stage (as you both knew it would) and suddenly your things were arriving in boxes.

Hiragi’s mostly blank walls now have pictures hanging off of them, some artwork, some of them blown up photos of the two of you. There are aesthetically pleasing rugs and throw pillows on the couch. His fridge has goofy magnets on it as well as the occasional love note you leave for him.

You have permeated the space, claimed it for yourself like you claimed his heart, and Hiragi wouldn’t have it any other way.

Now, freshly showered and mostly dry, Hiragi slips on his boxers and pads back into the bedroom where you are still sound asleep.

He should leave you be. You’ll be up in another hour or so, anyway.

But…

You’re warm under the covers, laying curled on your side, perfect for Hiragi as he wraps himself around you.

Your breathing stutters as he pulls you from whatever dreamland you were in, but you don’t seem all that upset, just smack your lips a couple times and mumble a groggy, “hi, baby…”

“Hey,” he responds, nuzzling into your shoulder as he pulls you tighter against his chest.

Your eyes remain shut, voice still thick with sleep when you ask, “you okay?”

“Yeah, m’fine. Just missed you.”

You let out a tiny laugh before clumsily turning to face him. Cracking one eye open, you remind him, “I’m right here,” then relax into him— “right here and still eepy.”

“Then go back to sleep,” he says, bringing a hand to your head to play with your messy hair.

“Plannin’ on it.”

You turn your face just enough to catch his wrist in a gentle kiss, make a delighted little noise when he reciprocates with his lips on the crown of your head.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall back into a light slumber, and Hiragi reflects for a just little bit longer—all the things he did that led him here, to this room with you in his arms—before he follows after you.

Breakfast can wait. He’s exactly where he wants to be in this moment.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Very cute 1922 Shotgun house in New Orleans, LA. 2bds, 2ba, $455K.

I saw this one last week. It's so narrow, like maybe 12ft wide, has 1bd, 2ba and they're asking $850K. Here's the listing if you want to see it:

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/729-Governor-Nicholls-St-New-Orleans-LA-70116/73779807_zpid/

This is cute- it has the original floors painted black, and an entire wall of shelving in the pretty living room.

It has some exposed brick walls, which were probably where the fireplaces were. The open space has an ample dining area and a nice kitchen. Off to the side they a have a nice laundry room.

Cute idea, they have 2 separate tables.

Oh, okay, we can see that this was a fireplace. At least they saved them.

The kitchen's nice. It's small, but has everything one needs.

Nice bedroom has a door to the yard. And, it's large enough to have a chair and table.

Bath #1 is very nice. Has a pretty sink and large shower.

This bedroom has one of the fireplaces. Very nice feature.

It also has room for a chair and a door to the yard.

The 2nd bath is beautiful, too, it has a stylized take on a vintage tub and I love the turquoise and black vanity.

The yard is fenced and has large loose stone patios. It's on a 2100 sq.ft. lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/938-Congress-St-New-Orleans-LA-70117/84457985_zpid/

[stvharrngton]

closer

a/n: part 2 to fuck about it is here! it’s inspired by another parx song and one of my favourites at that :^)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, unprotected p in v, thigh riding, exes/fwb to lovers, soft dom!steve vibes, angst at the start

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @variant-lokitty @kennedy-brooke

I got my space but what I’d pay, for you

The red numbers on the clock read 04:37. You weren’t sure what sleep you had managed to get, if any. Steve’s soft snores next to you now are too much of a distraction.

You were in his bed, in his bedroom, but you didn’t feel present. It felt like groundhog day, same old shit different day. You and Steve would hook up after a party or a random phone call at 1AM, you’d sleep over, go back to acting like you hated each other and do it all over again a couple days later.

You went from spending every waking minute together to only seeing each other in mutual friend spaces, to only being close in secret. And man, what you wouldn’t give to go right back to the start.

It all felt too much. Too much being here, next to him, when you didn’t belong here. Not really. You had to get out.

You gently rose from the bed, fearful of waking Steve, tiptoeing your way out of his room and downstairs to the kitchen. You sighed before pouring yourself a glass of water. You contemplated if you could get back to your place in just your panties and one of Steve’s old t-shirts without raising any suspicion.

I need you closer or I need it over

“Couldn’t sleep?” A low raspy voice asked from behind you.

It would have startled you if you didn’t go through this exact routine every other week.

“Something like that.” You shrugged, taking a sip of the cool water.

You felt his eyes on you, raking up and down your body. You couldn’t bear to return the favour, his big brown eyes eager to draw you in. The chest hair decorating his pecs, the boxers hanging low on his hips all too dangerous.

“You wanna head back to bed?” Steve asked, tone calm and quiet, “It’s way too early.” He stretched his arm around your back. A simple gesture yet one you couldn’t stand.

“I’m just gonna go home, Steve.” You shrugged his arm off you, spinning on your heel to start up the stairs again.

“What? Are you crazy?!” Steve started, quick to follow you, “It’s like five in the morning, you’re not going anywhere. Just come back to bed.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat, “I don’t think I can do this anymore, Steve.”

The boy had the nerve to roll his eyes, scoffing at your statement under his breath. “Come on, this again?” He was flailing his hands about now, “This was supposed to be fun, remember? No strings attached, no feelings.”

You laughed in disbelief, “You said no feelings, Steve. You said no strings attached. You barely gave me five minutes to process our breakup which you never gave me a real reason for, by the way.”

The tears began to well in your eyes, purely out of anger and frustration. You felt awful inside, full of regret and nausea. Except you didn’t really regret entering this agreement with Steve, not in the beginning at least, longing to get those intimate moments with him whenever you could.

“But my feelings are still very much here, Steve. And it’s just, fuck–, it’s just too much. So, I’m ending it.”

‘Cause you’re the holiday I celebrate too late, you’re the eyes that I gave up trying to captivate

Steve stood there in the middle of his kitchen dumbfounded. Lips moving but no words were coming out. He couldn’t think of anything to say, nothing that would make you crawl back into bed with him at least. Instead, he let you get angrier, get more upset, he let you keep talking.

“You’re so selfish, Steve. We always hookup when you want to, on your terms. You’re saying you never once considered how I felt?”

“What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry, huh?” Steve asked, his tone a little harsh and condescending. He was tugging at his hair now, frustration evident in the tinge of red on the top of his ears.

“I want to know why.” You said, wet eyes blinking up at the boy, your lips downturned into a frown.

“Why, what?” Steve shot back with.

“I want to know why you broke up with me, Steve.” You sighed, shoulders slumped, “I deserve that much from you.”

He sighed, the angry, frustrated look on his face became one of sadness and despair. Tongue poking the side of his cheek, his eyes not able to meet your own. Instead his gaze was focused on his feet, a guilty feeling churning in his stomach.

“Cause I didn’t deserve you, okay?” He began, voice shaky, “So I sabotaged us, broke my own heart before you could, you know? Before you found someone better.”

You thought he was ridiculous, that the reason was some sort of cop out. The typical ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ schtick. But you knew Steve, and you knew when he was being serious or telling the truth and unfortunately, this was one of those times.

He grabbed your arm, wrapped his fingers around your wrist as you rolled your eyes, urging you to stay and listen. “I know it sounds crazy and really stupid but it was easier that way. It was too late before I realised I made a massive mistake.”

‘Cause I love you, or I want to, but I don’t know how

The kitchen was silent, save for the dripping tap in the kitchen sink, the ticking clock on the wall. The silence wasn’t awkward, nor was it comfortable. You were appreciative of his honesty, but it didn’t make it sting any less. Knowing that Steve threw your relationship down the toilet because of his self esteem was upsetting, especially when you thought Steve was nothing but the perfect boyfriend.

“Steve–,” your features softened, your pent up frustration faltering.

“No, let me finish, please?” Steve asked, eyes pleading, “It’s the least I owe you.”

You nodded reluctantly, stood barefoot in the middle of the kitchen at five-thirty AM. He started with a sigh, fingers running through his messy bed hair.

“I was stupid,” he started, taking your hands in his much larger ones now, “you know, I overthought everything. I acted crazy, because you– you were perfect and I loved you but I just didn’t know how to.”

His speech was heartfelt and sincere, a real tug at your heartstrings. In your time apart your feelings for Steve never once faltered, you still loved him, adored him. You felt bitterness towards him because he seemed fine, no heartbreak, no tears. What you didn’t know was that Steve’s head was still filled with thoughts of you, thoughts and dreams that kept him awake at night with a chest full of regret.

“Loved?” you breathed, doe eyes blinking up at the boy. You knew you had no right, but it hurt thinking that Steve had ever stopped loving you. Made your heart sink to the pit of your stomach, your brain was telling you to leave, to not stick around long enough to hear the end of the tragic song but your legs simply wouldn’t move.

Steve tried his luck, long fingers reaching up to stroke at your soft cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at his touch, missing the soft intimacy you craved so much from your ex-boyfriend.

“Love.” He whispered matter of factly, a soft smile creeping on his lips. “I love you. Never stopped.”

There was something in the way he looked at you, a glint of hope, a glimmer of longing. You tried to ignore the butterflies fluttering throughout your stomach, tried to ignore Steve’s soft lips and the sprinkling of freckles and moles across his skin.

“Why wouldn’t you say something, Steve?” You spoke softly this time, a total 180 of your prior tone. So badly you wanted to wrap your arms around him, to pull him in closer but your head was fuzzy, unsure where you stood.

“Are you kidding me?” He scoffed jokingly, “I thought you’d never want to speak to me again, let alone have a serious conversation where I begged you to take me back ‘cause I’m a giant idiot.”

“You’re right,” you chuckled, “you are a giant idiot, Harrington.”

“You can say that again.” Steve sighed, both hands reaching up to cup your cheeks now, thumbs stroking over your skin, “I know you probably have loads of questions which I will definitely answer, but right now all I can think about is kissing you.”

“Are you asking if you can kiss me?” You asked, a subtle teasing lacing your tone. Voice playful and hopeful. Steve was right, you did have questions and you had no idea where you stood but all that could wait. All you wanted was his lips on yours.

“Can I?” Steve whispered, voice all saccharine sweet, low and sultry. Lips inching in closer to yours.

You let your actions speak for you, hands climbing up his chest, dainty fingers finding their way to Steve’s neck. You saw a glimpse of his smirk before your lips were brushing against his own.

You let yourself melt into the kiss, Steve’s soft lips sucking you right in. The kiss felt different than usual, rather than hot and messy, rushed and horny, it was sweet, passionate. Slow and soft. It felt like Steve, your Steve.

It felt like a lifetime that you were stood in Steve’s kitchen, lips melding together perfectly. His large hands began to wander your body, fists bunching his old t-shirt that swamped your body. You pulled away from one another, foreheads resting against one another, the tip of Steve’s nose brushing along the slope of yours, chests heaving as you both took a breath.

The pair of you both sported wide grins as Steve mumbled out, “That was nice.”

“Yeah, it was.” You replied, voice all sing-songy, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip playfully, “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Yeah?” Steve chirped, thumb swiping over your bottom lip, “How ‘bout right now?”

You squealed when he wrapped his arms around your waist, hoisting you up so you could wrap your legs around him, heels crossed at his tailbone. His lips were back on yours in an instant as he carried you through to the lounge, falling back onto the couch with you in tow.

Steve’s hands wandered down your back as you were perched in his lap, your fingers curling through the strands of soft brown hair atop his head. Steve hummed at the feeling, the vibrations rumbling in his chest as he kissed you a little harder, a little deeper. You were no stranger to makeout sessions with Steve, even post breakup, but this felt right. This felt normal, like you knew you wouldn’t ever have to skip out at seven AM again before anyone saw you.

The boy pulled away from you, lips pressing short, quick kisses to the column of your throat, mumbling between pecks, “You’re perfect, my beautiful girl.” Steve cooed.

You whimpered at both the feeling of his lips on your neck and the words that left his mouth. You couldn’t help but let it hit you right in your lower stomach, pressure building with every kiss of Steve’s lips, every squeeze of your ass with his large hands.

“Your girl?” You asked innocently, eyelashes fluttering as you felt the heat rise up your body, goose pimples simultaneously covering your skin.

“That’s right, honey,” Steve breathed, “my girl.”

Your hips began to move absentmindedly. The feeling of Steve’s lips on your skin, his hands all over your body, his words an aphrodisiac and the more he kept talking, the more needy, desperate you became.

“And what does my sweet girl want, hm?” Steve asked softly, one of his hands skimming underneath your t-shirt, his fingers brushing over your tits, thumb circling over one of your nipples.

“Fuck,” you whined, arching your back and pressing your chest further into Steve’s touch, “you, Steve. I want you. Please?”

He chuckled at how fragile you sounded, your whines and whimpers only serving as music to his ears. “I’m all yours, baby.” The boy responded, hand sneaking lower, fingers circling over your clit over the material of your panties.

You let out a strangled moan at the almost-there contact, feeling the arousal poole at your core. You bucked your hips into Steve’s hand, hands bracings themselves on his shoulders as you began to grind your heat over his meaty thigh, his fingers rubbing at your clit with every movement.

“Oh, that’s it, baby,” he cooed, “there you go. That feel good, huh?”

Steve’s voice was syrupy sweet as he whispered in your ear, urging you to chase your high, to make yourself feel good at his expense. You could only respond to his question with a high pitched whine, a sound that had Steve all giddy, grinning from ear to ear.

“God, look at you, sweetheart,” Steve mused, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy with lust, “making a mess of yourself all over my thigh. Fuck.”

Your hips began to move faster, desperately trying to get yourself to your climax along with Steve’s fingers on your throbbing clit. You whimpered the boy’s name into the early morning sunrise, eyes heavy and heart longing for him.

Steve coaxed you to your first orgasm with his skilful fingers, soft words of praise and encouragement whispered under his breath. You came undone with a shrill cry, a sweet groan of curse words and pretty noises tumbled from your lips as you shook against Steve’s thigh.

He hushed you with his lips, kisses swallowing up your moans and whines. He hummed against your lips as your orgasm washed over you, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as you let the tension leave your body.

The boy had a subtle smirk on his face when you pulled away, cheeks flushed and his bottom lip settled firmly between his teeth. You giggled as you tried to hide your face away in the crook of his neck, the smell of sleep still evident on his skin.

“Ah, ah,” he teased, “let me see you.” He spoke quietly, pulling you back gently as he cupped your cheek with one hand. “Beautiful,” he cooed with a gentle kiss to your lips.

You felt the heat creep up your cheeks at his admission, the feeling of Steve’s hands on you and his hard cock pressing into your core through the cotton of his boxers ever present in the front of your mind. You felt him tense as you moved over the bulge gently, the sound music to your ears.

“Fuck,” he breathed. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed, his large hands moving to your thighs, his fingers digging into the doughy flesh. It only spurred you on, the noises leaving his pretty lips, the way his head was rolled back against the back of the couch.

“Baby,” he whined, “fuck. I gotta feel you. Please?” Steve’s eyes were wide and glassy, pupils dilated and dark. His cock was aching and begging to be touched, desperate to be swallowed by your pillowy walls.

You nodded with intent, standing up to rid yourself of your shorts and underwear as Steve did with his boxers. You watched with a slack jaw as Steve’s cock sprang to attention, hard and thick against the thick trail of hair that decorated his lower stomach.

Breath hitching in your throat, Steve lathered up his cock with his own saliva, fingers wrapping around his length as he ushered you back onto his lap. You held onto Steve’s shoulders as you lowered yourself onto his cock, both of you groaning at the stretch.

You sunk down inch by inch until Steve was buried in your pussy to the hilt. The stretch was a sweet pain, sinful and worth every wince. The boy cursed as you began to move, gentle and slow as you gave him a nod, a hint to pull you along his length. Steve could only abide as he moved his hands to your ass, palms squeezing the flesh as he pulled you back and forth in his lap.

“Jesus,” he groaned, throaty and raspy, eyes trained on your face, how your features were twisted in pleasure, “you feel so fucking good.”

You could only whine in response, mind too busy to focus on anything else except for how the tip of Steve’s cock was brushing that sweet spot deep inside you. You began to move your hips faster, fingernails leaving pretty marks in his freckled skin, your wetness dripping down Steve’s cock, a sticky mess trickling down his heavy balls.

Steve was losing his mind, the sound of skin slapping against skin, your ass coming down against his thighs as you rode him, the poor boy was in a tiz. He didn’t know where he wanted his hands most; your hips or your waist, your ass or your tits, on your face or in your hair. The decision was impossible.

Closer. Steve needed you closer. Sure, your bodies were entwined, his cock buried inside you, your hands all over each other. But it wasn’t enough. He shifted you both forward on the couch, his arms wrapped around the small of your back, your legs instinctively wrapping around his own.

You were sat chest to chest in his lap, his hand shoving your, his, t-shirt up your chest, your nipples free to brush up against the coarse hair of his chest. You both moaned out loud at the close contact, his hands on your back urging you to grind on his length.

“Fucking hell,” Steve moaned, plump lips engulfing one of your nipples, tongue licking over the bud, “you’re amazing. Can’t believe I let this pussy go.”

Word vomit of praise and lustful ramblings was Steve’s tell tale sign that he was close to his own climax, his orgasm right around the corner. Your fingers were stuck in the boy’s hair, your lips flying to his, kissing him like your life depended on it.

“Steve,” you moaned between kisses, noses knocking against one another. Your hips seemed to pick up the pace with every roll, your clit throbbing and aching.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, forehead resting against yours, his big brown eyes wide and enticing. His lips brushed against your own with every word he spoke, “You making yourself feel good on my cock?”

“Yes,” you cried, eyes squeezed closed as you felt the coil in your lower stomach tighten, “please, I’m gonna cum, Stevie, shit—.”

“Yeah? Fuck,” Steve groaned, hand snaking between your clammy bodies so he could rub at your delicate clit. “gonna cum f’me, pretty? Make a mess all over my cock, yeah? That’s a good girl.”

“Oh, Steve,” you moaned loudly, eyes fluttering closed as you felt the beginnings of your orgasm rock your body. Your hips rocked faster, harder, desperately chasing your climax.

“That’s my girl,” he cooed, “gonna let me cum inside you? Fill up this pretty little pussy like she deserves.”

“Yesyesyes,” you chanted as the coil snapped, warmth spreading throughout your body as you came undone. Steve wasn’t far behind you, two more rolls of your hips and he was painting your insides with his seed.

He cried out your name like a song, face buried in your neck as his fingers dug in the skin of your waist. His toes curled in the plush carpet as he whined and whimpered into your soft flesh.

The orange-y pink glow of the sunrise over the horizon basked you both in a golden gleam. The rays covered Steve in a pretty radiance, one you hadn’t seen in a while. A weight off his shoulders, perhaps, or an old flame in his lap.

Neither of you spoke for a while, too busy taking in the comfortable silence. You hadn’t moved a muscle, cept to rest your head on the boy’s chest, his fingers drawing delicate patterns on your bare skin.

You didn’t know what this meant for you, both of you were pretty clueless where this left you, where Steve’s confession would take your relationship. But you didn’t care. Not one bit.

You only had tomorrow to look forward to now.

[jokertrap-ran]

(时空中的绘旅人—For All Time—) 司岚 CR 「徒涉空无」 Clarence CR [Wading Through the Void] Heartfelt ASMR / Whispers Translation (Complete)

*For All Time Master-list | Clarence's personal Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut (Video included) *ASMR contains 2 parts.

"Opening the door and coming home at the end of time with a greeting— it's been a long time."

Part 1: Beautiful Moments [韶光]

「The best moment in time? Right here, right now.」

Clarence: You opened the door to the bedroom, only to find that I was not there.

Clarence: So you ended up coming over.

Clarence: You then remembered that you had a package that you'd yet to open…

Clarence: So you came to study…

Clarence: I see.

Clarence: You're right to have done what you did.

Clarence: Had you left those boxes out there all night…

Clarence: The cats would assume that they were new toys to play with.

Clarence: This one's wrapped pretty tight.

Clarence: Do you need my help?

Clarence: Here you go.

Clarence: A storage box, huh.

Clarence: Stores books and even comes in the shape of a small house?

Clarence: It does seem like something you'd use.

Clarence: I think it's cute.

Clarence: Plus…

Clarence: It’s very imaginative.

Clarence: I like this…

Clarence: Door on the box.

Clarence: Only with a door…

Clarence: Can it be considered a house.

Clarence: You can hide secrets in there.

Clarence: And lock some memories within.

Clarence: Or open the doors…

Clarence: To get something new for a change.

Clarence: You want to take something from it right now?

Clarence: Let me try.

Clarence: What I have in my grasp now is…

Clarence: Your hand.

Clarence: And the owner of this hand…

Clarence: Is my favorite book.

Clarence: Every page is unique.

Clarence: Dynamic.

Clarence: And endless.

Clarence: Okay.

Clarence: We'll leave this here first.

Clarence: And we can pack some books inside tomorrow.

Clarence: You can also put your drawings inside.

Clarence: Or perhaps the letter I've sent you.

Clarence: Anything at all.

Clarence: If you happen to remember this box once in a while.

Clarence: You can open this little door.

Clarence: For what lies behind…

Clarence: Is our shared memories.

Clarence: So…

Clarence: What's the next package supposed to be?

Clarence: What?

Clarence: Why are you trying to hide it from me?

Clarence: Your ears have gone all red.

Clarence: “Bathroom Suction Cup Handcuffs”…?

Clarence: I see.

Clarence: I've seen these before, yes.

Clarence: Handcuffs used to restrain…

Clarence: Cats who are adamant against a bath.

Clarence: Go on then, open it.

Clarence: At least try it on for size to see if it fits.

Clarence: If the suction cups aren't strong enough…

Clarence: Then the handcuffs would be easily removed.

Clarence: Which wouldn't be worth the effort.

Clarence: If you require…

Clarence: I can lend you my hand so that you can try it out.

Clarence: However, handcuffs do not have a key.

Clarence: Perhaps you can operate it with just one hand.

Clarence: You just want to handcuff me to the table.

Clarence: Don't you…?

Clarence: Looks like you are aware of its use then.

Clarence: And it seems strong enough to restrain an animal.

Clarence: But not enough…

Clarence: See?

Clarence: Come closer.

Clarence: I've told you before.

Clarence: Haven't I?

Clarence: This set of handcuffs does not come with a key.

Clarence: And can be operated with just one hand.

Clarence: So you really should have tried restraining my right hand instead.

Clarence: To delay my escape…

Clarence: Take you right now, for example.

Clarence: It truly does hold strong.

Clarence: Before the cats…

Clarence: Perhaps we should…

Clarence: Try it out for ourselves?

Clarence: Right here.

Clarence: Right now.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Part 2: Fictitious [子虚]

「The only defense that man has against the nothingness of the future, is the present.」

Clarence: No. 1046529.

Clarence: I need to record the information I currently have on hand.

Clarence: There is physical space here.

Clarence: However, it is hard to determine the boundaries of said space.

Clarence: I can see the cosmos.

Clarence: Moving a 100 ahead…

Clarence: “Clarence”…?

Clarence: Who's calling for me?

Clarence: You.

Clarence: It's been a long time.

Clarence: I miss you so much.

Clarence: It has been…

Clarence: A long time since we last saw each other…

Clarence: I miss the time we spent together…

Clarence: I still remember that evening…

Clarence: When you opened the door to the room.

Clarence: The night breeze entered the room.

Clarence: And I came to a realization.

Clarence: Back then, I had a hunch.

Clarence: That if there was a set of forever locked doors before me…

Clarence: Then you are the key, standing before me.

Clarence: Can you hold my hand?

Clarence: I kind of miss that feeling…

Clarence: A hug…

Clarence: You're still the same as before…

Clarence: Always loving to spring surprises on me.

Clarence: No…

Clarence: Don't undo them.

Clarence: See?

Clarence: There's nothing under these bandages anymore.

Clarence: The wound has already healed…

Clarence: But it does tickle…

Clarence: When you touch it like that.

Clarence: So, as a recompensation…

Clarence: Let me hug you for a little longer…

Clarence: You know…

Clarence: It was only after I embarked on this journey…

Clarence: That I learned that the size of the world could not be estimated.

Clarence: And that time was an endless thing.

Clarence: The world we live in is vast…

Clarence: And in comparison…

Clarence: We are little more than cocoons on a leaf.

Clarence: We are the insects in the cocoon…

Clarence: Doing our very best to survive.

Clarence: I will return to see you again.

Clarence: It is your aid…

Clarence: That has led me this far.

Clarence: The time I spent with you…

Clarence: Will serve as a torch.

Clarence: One capable of tearing through the solid darkness.

Clarence: Wait for me.

Clarence: And await our next meeting.

Clarence: Regardless of what the world has come to by that time…

Clarence: Be it whether time or space has ceased to exist…

Clarence: Even if I have to pass through countless upon countless doors…

Clarence: I will morph into a butterfly…

Clarence: And I will fly to meet you again.

[leosficlist]

POST S-4 Getting Together

These fics are about their relationship Post Season 4, which could include apologies and fix-its, or simply fics which acknowledged the events of S4!

Post S4 pt2, Post S4 pt3

Bridges by sussexbound 🔒6.6k words

The silence between them is deafening, interrupted only by the hum of the traffic outside, and the soft click-clunk of the plastic cups Rosie is playing with on the floor beside them. It is the first time they have been alone together, since Sherlock’s birthday. It’s only been two days, but it feels huge, important, like there is a precarious bridge stretched out before them both that they need to at least attempt to traverse.

Nocturne by Atiki 6.6k words

All the most important conversations happen at night.

holding steady by darcylindbergh 12.7k words

“Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing.”

John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

notes: post-everything, no eurus mention, getting away for the weekend

Finally Home by LondonSpirit 🔒 3.5k words

“After the final problem is solved, after everything's resolved, and Sherlock and John have returned to a more or less ordinary life, there's only one ting left to do.

But can they eventually admit what everyone else already knew for a long time, or are they still too blind to see?”

Sehnsucht by unicornpoe 14.7k

Sehnsucht: longing, pining, yearning, craving, intensely missing. An individual’s search for happiness while coping with the reality of unattainable wishes.

John is here now, yes, yes he is. He and Rosie are back home in 221B with Sherlock, safe where they belong... but why is there still a hole deep inside Sherlock, wide and gaping and consuming? Does John feel it too? And what will it take to fill it?

Alternative Facts by SwissMiss 🔒10k words

It was so nice to see they'd finally got things sorted. After all they'd been through, they deserved to be happy. (Or: Five times people imagined what John and Sherlock get up to in the bedroom, and one time we see what they really get up to.)

Six Dates by AvaWtsn 7.4k

A rather accidental 5+1 written for the prompt "is this a date?" Hint: it is.

notes: the first 6 fridays after John moves back in

Whisper To Me by Chrysanthemumsies 20.7k words

Sherlock picks up playing the guitar. John falls more and more in love with every passing day.

notes: John struggling with his feelings, slowly creeping together

Questions and Answers by Pipmer 3.1k

It was useless. What was the point? No amount of talking was ever going to change that John wasn’t interested, and never would be. The only way he would be tempted to pull up house again would be if the practical advantages were enormous, and they just weren’t. Why else would he even consider it?

notes: Sherlock wants John & Rosie to move back in

Once Upon A Time by darcylindbergh 6.5k

It starts with a wish.

In the beginning, John comes home.

notes: fluffy soft warm

Getting On With It by StarlightandFireflies 8k words

“What is it?” Sherlock finally asked, staring into his tea. “Nothing,” John said quickly. After all, he could hardly just come out and say the truth: It’s just hit me again, all this. I’ve realized I’m here, and you’re here, and for some reason you don’t hate me, and yet I’ve got no bloody idea where to go from here.  I want to do right by you but it’s hitting me as if for the first time that I’ve no clue how to do that, even though it’s what you deserve. Rated M for chapter 2

notes: "your heart's always been in the right place" "for you John, yes"

Negative Space by Standbygo 8.8k words

John takes a drawing class, but drawing Sherlock has unexpected results.

notes: John’s in therapy, Sherlock goes to John’s art show

Home by liriodendron 2.9k words

Sherlock opens his mouth to ask how he can make the pain go away, but he realizes halfway through that he doesn't know how one asks such a thing, so the only word that escapes his lips is, "John..."

There is a sharp intake of breath at his name, and then John says in a voice like a broken radio, "Take me home, Sherlock."

notes: sex for comfort post-mary's death

Out Of The Woods by SilentAuror

Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

notes: pining Sherlock, miscommunications, then oodles of fluff, love confessions, virginlock, john plots a romantic date