#i wrote this on no sleep and no food ENJOY Y'ALL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

here2bbtstrash · 2 years ago

Text

sunday (explicit)

genre: straight-up smut baybey, i did it y'all i wrote a pwp again

pairing: seokjin x reader

summary: you got your boyfriend exactly what he wanted for his birthday.

word count: 5k

contains: explicit sexual content~*~ say it with me: BRAT 👏 TAMER 👏 SEOKJIN 👏 established relationship, reader is uhhh 😬 Extremely bratty lmao, jin takes care of that, BDSM dynamics (mention of safewords and hand signals but neither are used!), reader gets spanked with a belt oop 🤭, fingering/a lil bit of eating it from the back, orgasm denial, big dick jin 😏, praise kink, mouth/throat fucking, a bit of breathplay, begging and apologizing, oh yeah she cries... like.... kind of a lot 🥲 there's a dacryphilia moment in there too (~*~add a little spice~*~), unprotected sex but they're in love it's fine, lots of subspace at the end, use of a vibrator, overstimulation, she comes.... idek how many times, and a smidge of aftercare 🫠 also i promise there's no food play, you'll get why the cake's there at the end ok lmao

A/N: a day late and a dollar short but hey that's my mental health rn 🫡 this was fun!!! always nice to dust off the ol' pwp muscles and frankly i've been itching to write proper BDSM for a bit now. sometimes you just wanna get the shit beat out of you lovingly and that's valid and sexy ya know. anyway feel free to silently skip this one if it's not for you!! and i know i'm gonna get a comment on it so 🙄 i used his korean age on purpose lmao 🙄 yes i can count and yes i know their system is changing~ ANYWAY i sincerely hope you enjoy babes and that you all had a lovely seokjin day 🥺 i loooove y'all !!! 💜

thank you to @haliiimede for beta reading and being my soulmate 🥺

read on AO3!

~*~

The slam of the front door tells you that your plan for today has worked perfectly.

Standing in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom, you adjust a final strap on your bralette, then quickly scramble to pull your clothes back on. You attempt to keep your expression innocent as you slip down the hallway to greet your boyfriend.

Before you can even make it, you hear the unmistakable pop of a wine bottle being uncorked, and you enter the kitchen just in time to see Seokjin leaning up against the counter with a glass of white in hand. He doesn’t look particularly pleased to see you.

“Hi baby,” you say, sweet as can be. “Can I have a glass?”

A muscle works in his jaw as he looks you over, and the expression on his face already has a flame licking in the pit of your stomach.

“That's all you have to say?” he finally answers.

You blink up at him, feigning ignorance. Your heartbeat has started to race behind your ribs, sensing imminent danger— the good kind.

“I haven't heard from you all day today,” he tries again.

You shrug. “I was still sleeping when you left this morning, and then, I don't know. I was doing things. Does it matter?” If Seokjin wasn’t already pissed, you know your last question will get him. You turn away to busy yourself with retrieving a wine glass so he can’t see the smile you’re trying to bite back.

The tone of his voice makes you freeze, glass in hand. “I don't recall saying you could have any.”

Your lower lip juts out automatically, and you do your best to steady your breathing without making it apparent. Even your voice comes out a little shaky. “But we always share.”

The silence in the kitchen feels deafening, punctuated by the soft tap of Seokjin setting his glass on the counter. You mirror him, swallowing hard as he steps in to close the distance between you. It never gets any less exciting to have him tower over you, big and broad-shouldered, tall enough that you have to look up through your lashes to meet his gaze. A dull ache starts to pulse between your legs.

“Do you know what today is?”

You lick your lips and try to speak. “Sunday?”

It’s like you barely get the word out before he’s gripping your jaw with one large hand, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. Anticipation buzzes through your body, all the way down to your toes, as he forces your chin up.

“Anything else?” His voice sounds like a warning.

Your mouth pulls into a grin beneath his grasp, one you can’t quite manage to keep innocent. “Oh, Seokjin, is it your birthday? I knew I was forgetting something. Oops.”

“Fucking brat.”

All at once Seokjin locks an arm around your hips, and you let out a shrill squeak as your feet leave the floor entirely when he outright slings you over his shoulder. This is, of course, exactly what you’d hoped for, but you struggle a little in his grip nonetheless. All part of the fun.

You’d left the bedroom door cracked on your way out to greet him, and he takes the opportunity to kick it back open. A shiver runs up your spine at the sight, and then you hit the bed hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs.

You push up onto your hands as you sit up, slightly dizzy.

“That hurt, Seokjin,” you whine, but you both know you don’t mean it. You have agreed-upon methods of telling him when he’s really hurting you in a way that doesn’t feel good: safewords, even hand signals for when you’re rendered non-verbal. Anything said that isn’t one of those is just you running your mouth on purpose, winding him up. Like now. “You’re being so dramatic.”

“And you’ve got a fucking attitude today,” he snaps. “Is this really how you want to do this? On my fucking birthday?”

You blink up at him with the same sweet smile. “What if I told you I got you a present?”

This seems to surprise him a little, and he pauses, like he doesn’t quite buy it. “A present, huh?”

“Mm-hmm.” You nod as you get to your feet. “Let me unwrap it for you.”

Taking your time with it, you peel off your sweatshirt and leggings to reveal the lingerie you pulled on as he was coming home. It’s a soft pink set with a floral design, thin straps, and romantic lace, and you happen to think it does wonders for your curves.

“What do you think?”

You can see the hungry gleam in Seokjin's eyes even as he scoffs, feigning disinterest. “Oh, this is my present? A disrespectful brat that I have to teach a lesson? I should rip this shit off.”

“Hey, this was expensive!” you snap, and he arches an eyebrow as if to give you a final chance to behave. It just makes you want to push him that much further.

You step closer, allowing a perfect line of sight to your tits that threaten to spill out of their confinements, and you soften your voice when you speak again. “What, you don’t forgive me, Seokjin?”

The corner of his mouth just barely ticks up. “You know the rules. Forgiveness is earned.”

He reaches a hand down to undo the buckle of his belt, and your nipples are suddenly painfully hard against the lace fabric. You can’t remember the last time he used his belt. Fuck, he’s really mad.

“Bend over.”

You huff a sigh as you drape yourself over the edge of the bed, and his hands are already on your ass. He makes a low noise of appreciation as his fingertips dig into your supple skin, pressing firm enough to make you wince. He's not being gentle, and you don’t want him to be.

Your eyes flutter closed in enjoyment of being manhandled like this, and you get so lost in it that it takes you a second to realize Seokjin has asked you a question. By then it’s already too late.

He gives a warning slap to your ass as he repeats himself. “I said, how old am I?”

You peek over your shoulder, wiggling your ass against the flat of his palm, only for him to smack you hard over your left cheek. You bite back a whimper, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“I don't know,” you lie, blinking up at him. “You’re so old now, it’s hard to remember.”

In one swift move, he yanks his belt out from around his waist, and you swallow hard as you watch him fold it over in his hands.

“Then why don’t you fucking count for me.”

The belt cracks down over your ass, and you flinch at the first real rush of pain. It takes you a second to regain focus, your brain still buzzing from the hit, and then his words come back to you.

“One.”

“So you are capable of listening, huh?”

Another hit, equally as hard on the other side, and you grit your teeth.

“Two.”

“Aw, where’d that smart mouth go? Not so chatty now?” Seokjin cracks the belt again, and you can barely get the word three out before four is being delivered just as harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to breathe. He's really hitting hard tonight.

“Four,” you gasp, and you hear Seokjin exhale a dark laugh above you.

“Better toughen up, sweetheart. We’ve got a long way to go.” Another hit in the same spot, this one enough to really sting.

“Five.”

“You know, since I'm so old.”

The next blow he delivers is so hard, the word comes out as a cry of pain. “Six!”

You flatten your pelvis down against the sheets, as if in an attempt to hide from the beating, but there’s nowhere to go. The extra pressure makes you feel how hard your clit has started to throb from your punishment. You bury your face in the crook of your elbow, your hips jerking reflexively as you moan through seven, eight, nine.

Every muscle in your body seizes taut as you prepare for ten, trying to encourage yourself to breathe through it, though all you can get out right now are shallow gasps for air. I can take this, you tell yourself, I can take this.

But it doesn’t come. You’re pulled so tight you think you might snap, and you manage to lift your head up from your arms to look back at Seokjin.

“There she is,” he says, and the soft tone of his voice in no way influences how hard he brings the belt down over your ass.

“Ten!” you groan, and the sharp bite of pain over your already raw skin nearly brings tears to your eyes. And he’s not even halfway done.

It’s all you can do now to remember what number you’re on, especially as Seokjin continues to allow torturously long pauses between his hits. He'll wait just long enough that your heartbeat starts to slow, teasing the thin length of the belt up the backs of your thighs, sometimes even with a laugh.

But it’s not relief: the waiting keeps every inch of you on edge, all wound up with anticipation of the next dose of pain, so tense you’re not sure you’re breathing.

You’ve hardly choked out fourteen when you flinch at a brush of contact, the warm touch of skin where you were expecting the crack of leather. Letting your forehead drop against the bed, you pant like you’ve just run a marathon as Seokjin's hand moves over your abused flesh, groping and massaging as he did before. You can’t tell if it’s been minutes or hours since then, but his touch is grounding, calming, even when his fingers sink into your fresh bruises with enough force to make you whimper.

You can feel the way the seam of your panties sticks to your center now, and you can only imagine that they must be entirely soaked through, your slickness already starting to paint the crux of your thighs. With a soft whine of need, you spread your legs a little wider in search of anything but more pain.

“What do you think?” Seokjin's voice is dark when he speaks, thick with lust. The thought of him straining hard against his pants has you practically drooling on the mattress. You want nothing more than that cock stretching you open right now. “Starting to learn your lesson?”

As much as the rational part of you appreciates the check-in, you can’t ignore the new rush of rebellion that surges up at the question. What, does he think you need him to go easy? Does he think you’re not tough enough, that you can’t take everything he’s willing to give you?

You push up to look over your shoulder at him again, your jaw set firm. “No.”

Anger flashes over his face, but he can’t quite hide his smile. “Then I guess I can stop holding back.”

Shit, he was—? You don’t get the opportunity to finish that thought before the loop of his belt is whizzing through the air, and the impact it makes against your ass hits so hard, you momentarily see stars. “Fuck!”

“That's not a fucking number.”

“Fifteen,” you gasp, dropping limp against the bed like a ragdoll, breathless with relief that you didn’t lose track. “Fifteen.”

“The brat can count,” Seokjin remarks, and then he delivers sixteen just as hard and your whole body spasms from the pain as you choke out the number. “If only you knew how old I was, you might have some idea of how much longer I have to beat your ass.”

Your eyes are really starting to well up now, but you force yourself to keep breathing, to focus on his words. It might be coded to fit the scene, but it’s a clear reminder nonetheless: you’re more than halfway. You can do this.

By twenty, the tears have started to spill down your face, but Seokjin knows you well enough to know the scene doesn’t stop unless you call a safeword. He trusts you to know your own limits, and you do. But fuck, he can really test them sometimes. You’re dying for him to touch you, fuck you, do anything but keep fucking beating you. It’s taking everything in you to keep going, your feet kicking helplessly each time he brings the belt down over your tender backside. He hasn’t lightened the weight of his hits up even in the slightest. If anything, they’re only getting worse.

“Twenty-one,” you breathe. You only have ten hits left, and you’ve already gotten through ten hits twice now. You can do this.

“Twenty-two.” You tell yourself not to fight it.

“Twenty-three.” Just give into the pain.

“Twenty-four.” Submit.

Your shoulders heave with sobs as the twenty-fifth strike finally, finally breaks your last resolve. You press your face into the mattress; you’re crying so hard you can scarcely breathe. Even though your body keeps flinching with the reflexive animal reaction to try and get away from the pain, your mind has fully accepted your punishment, all the fight gone out of you.

It’s like someone else is counting for you now, so much so that you don’t even realize what number Seokjin is on until the words leave your mouth.

“Thirty-one.”

You hear the jingle and thud of the belt hitting the floor, and then his gentle hands are encouraging your legs to spread apart. The brush of his fingers over your aching core is sweet, overwhelming relief from the pain still coursing through your system. You’d think it’d be enough to make you cry, if you weren’t already.

“Good girl,” he says softly, and that small praise alone has you floating straight up to the ceiling.

His hands move quickly to pull your panties down and off, and you work to get your breathing back under control, letting your sobs dissolve into sniffling gulps. You whimper when his palms slip under your hips, encouraging you up onto your knees. Your body shivers all over as you try to hold yourself up, to be good, and then you feel Seokjin slip two fingers into your drenched center.

“Oh my god,” you groan as he starts to rub diligently at the ridges of your front wall, his free hand gripping your ass to spread you open. His touch in both places at once, pressing down on fresh swollen bruises and curling up into the sweetest part of you, it’s so good. It reminds you why you willingly give yourself over to this man, the one you love so much, the only one who can make you feel like this. You’re so turned on from the mix of pleasure and pain, you might be close to blacking out.

The bed creaks as he shifts a little, and then he replaces his fingers with his mouth, and you keen. You bury your sounds in the crook of your elbow as his tongue plunges into you, and he snakes a hand between your legs to rub slow circles over your clit. Your mind is reeling; you can barely manage to speak.

“S-Seokjin,” you gasp. “You’re g-gonna, ngh, gonna make me—”

He pulls off just enough to mutter, “You better fucking ask first.”

You swear he ups the intensity on purpose when his mouth returns to your pussy, as if to drag you that much closer to the edge. His thumb is working so perfectly at your clit, you can feel your thighs starting to shake as you writhe back against him. “Can I— can I please come, Seokjin? Pleaseplease, please?”

“No.”

His voice is firm, unbothered, and paired with the painful loss of his touch all at once. A strangled sob of frustration escapes you as you collapse against the bed, exhausted from holding yourself up and from your denied release.

“Not yet,” Seokjin continues. “Not until you’ve learned to be a little more obedient.”

His strong hand closes over your bicep, and he easily flips you over onto your back, causing you to hiss at the graze of your sore flesh against the sheets. Your lower lip trembles, your eyes threatening tears as you stare up at him, but you stay quiet.

“Be a good girl,” Seokjin says, dragging one finger up the column of your throat. You willingly tip your head back for him as a shiver rolls through you. “Let me fuck this smart mouth, then I’ll make you come as many times as you can handle. Okay?”

When you nod softly, he hauls you up to your feet. “Get on your knees.”

You do as he says, sitting back on your heels and watching as he works his pants and boxers down to free his cock. He’s thick and long, flushed dark and dripping hard. Big enough that you go slightly cross-eyed trying to take him in. Your cunt clenches desperately at his size, at how badly you need all of him inside you, bottoming out into you again and again.

But even moreso, you want to be good.

“Mouth open,” Seokjin instructs, and you comply, letting your tongue loll out for him as he tangles a hand in your hair.

He guides himself between your lips, and your eyes roll back at the weight of him on your tongue, the feeling of your jaw stretching open to fit him. He’s so fucking big, it’s uncomfortable, but you do your best to breathe around him and give into it.

Trying to hold still, hands placed sweetly on your thighs because you know he likes it that way, you blink up at Seokjin as he starts to thrust into your mouth. You can taste the salt of his precum as his length drags along your tongue, and you fight back the urge to gag when the tip of his cock nudges into the back wall of your throat. He groans softly as he rubs himself there, his grip on your hair tightening until the pain stings your scalp. Your eyes start to water as you try to keep yourself from choking.

“Fuck,” he hisses when he pulls out, saliva stringing in thick strands from your mouth to the head of his cock. He squeezes at the base of it, eyes glazed dark with lust, and you take in as much air as you can, the cool rush painful where your throat is sore from the stretch of him.

You sit up taller as if to ask for more.

Seokjin’s gaze meets yours as the hand on his cock guides it back toward you, but he doesn’t slip back into your mouth. His eyes are fixated hungrily on your face as he drags the head of his dick down over your bottom lip, teasing it around your mouth and along your cheeks, clearly enjoying that he can do whatever he wants with you.

Your pulse drums loudly in your ears as you sit there, mouth open, and take it. The whole lower half of your face must be slick with spit and precum now, given how easily he glides across your skin, and then you’re hit with the heavy thud of him smacking his cock once, twice, three times against your flat, willing tongue.

“Are you done being a brat now?” he prompts, and you can feel drool spilling down your chin as you nod, his cock still weighing heavy on your outstretched tongue. He slips it in a little further, just past the ring of your lips.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?”

A soft whine escapes around his girth filling your mouth. You nod again, desperate, and then he hits the back of your throat with enough force to make you gag noisily. Your body shudders beneath him, and you try to keep it together.

“Learned your fucking lesson?”

Tears start to sting at the corners of your eyes as he keeps sliding himself into your mouth, the head of his cock dipping down into the tight clutch of your throat, as far as he can go until your nose is flush with his abdomen. You can’t make another sound, your mouth crammed too full, but you do your best to nod even as you lose the ability to keep breathing.

Seokjin’s thumb brushes over the bulge in your throat, and you know what he wants. Tears slip down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut and swallow around him, and he rewards you with an unabashed moan that lights up everything inside you.

“That’s it. You look so good when you cry on my cock,” he rasps, his hand closing over your throat as you swallow again.

You can feel yourself starting to get light headed from lack of oxygen as more tears stream down your face, but the praise spurs you on. You want it too much, it makes you eager to please at any cost, despite the dizzying surge of adrenaline, despite the way your throat is spasming painfully now. You’ll pass out with his cock down your throat, if that’s what it takes.

He pulls out all at once, and the rush of air you heave in is like broken glass against your raw throat. You fall forward, your palms just barely catching you from landing directly onto your face, and you can’t do anything for a moment but breathe in ragged, shaky gasps. Tears are still welling up in your eyes, dripping down onto the carpet beneath you.

Your world tilts as Seokjin easily scoops you up in his arms just to drop you onto the bed, flat on your back. There’s still the dull ache of the bruises he beat into your ass, but it’s like someone’s turned the volume down on it. All your physical sensations seem distant, like they’re happening to someone else, even the dull ache thudding between your legs, a desperate desire to come that was only made worse by being used as your boyfriend’s fucktoy.

Your eyes flutter closed as his hands slip up your body to undo your lacy bralette and peel it off of you, and you don’t fight it.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Seokjin's voice pulls you back from the edge, and you fight to open your eyes again. He's hovering over you, fully stripped now, his brow creased slightly with concern. “Stay with me a little bit longer, okay?” His tone is still serious, and you sniff softly as you nod.

He slips a palm encouragingly under your thigh and you do the rest, so out of body that it’s like you weigh nothing at all as you pull your knees up to effectively bend yourself in half for him. He practically growls at the sight of you spread for him so willingly, presenting a cunt swollen with need, painted glossy with arousal.

You watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he kneels up on the bed, and then his thick cock is grinding over you, dragged right up your center. The feeling of finally being touched where you need it most has you exhaling a moan of relief.

“Is this what you want?” Seokjin's breath is hot on your neck and chased by the scrape of his teeth, earning another noise of pleasure from you. Your clit throbs as he rolls the head of his dick over it, up and down, slow teasing.

“Yes,” you manage to gasp. Your voice comes out a little broken from your scraped-up throat. “Yes, please. Please fuck me, please, want it so bad.”

“Which do you want more?”

You’re so gone, choking on whimpers and whines, that his hand closes over your throat to make you focus on the rest of his question. The look on his face is so dark, it sends a shiver down your spine.

“My dick, or my forgiveness?”

Tears spring to your eyes immediately as an overwhelming wave of emotions floods through you. There isn’t a doubt in your mind what your answer is, you don’t even have to pause to consider it. As badly as you want, need him to fuck you, the thought of Seokjin discarding you when he’s finished, still upset, not kissing every inch of your skin, not praising you for being so good… you can’t bear it.

“Your forgiveness,” you sob, doing your best to keep breathing despite his hand around your throat. “Please, please, please forgive me. I'm so sorry. I just wanna be good, wanna be good for you, I don't need anything else.”

You can see his face soften even through the tears that blur your vision. “There she is,” he murmurs, and then he tips his head down to brush his lips over yours. The warm touch of his mouth is all the reward you could ever ask for, and he sucks sweetly on your bottom lip before pulling back.

“Good answer, babygirl.”

Before you can even process what’s happening, he’s fucking the whole of his thick cock into you, and you can only keen as he stretches you wide enough to fit all of him. Your walls are immediately trembling tight to him from how edged close you’ve been all night.

“Thank you,” you moan, your head dropping back against the pillow. A gasp rips through you as he bottoms out, your spine arching when the crown of his cock presses firmly on your cervix. “Thank you, oh fuck.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin purrs, his mouth against your collarbone. You think he might be sucking a mark into your skin, but it’s already getting hard to tell what’s happening. “You always take it so well after I beat the brat out of you. Let go now, baby. You’ve earned it.”

You’re grateful for the permission, because you’re not sure you could stay tethered any longer if you tried. Not when he’s splitting you open, thrusting hard and deep because he knows you can take it, with a cock fat enough to light up every sweet spot in you at once. Your eyes roll back as you start to float, so out of it that you barely even notice a faint buzzing sound until you realize Seokjin is pressing your vibrator down against your swollen, aching clit.

Fuck, when did he even grab it off the nightstand?

You’re vaguely aware of someone moaning, but it doesn’t even feel like you. You’ve given up entirely to it now, a sweet surrender to this all-encompassing pleasure. It’s so good, too good, it slips you out of your mind and body alike, like he’s fucking your brain right out of your skull.

“That’s it, come on my cock,” Seokjin groans, and fuck, you are, you’re coming hard enough to drench his cock with every pulse of your needy cunt. “Such a good girl.”

He doesn't even pull the toy off to give you a moment of recovery, just keeps it nestled between your folds as he pounds into you. Your hips shudder violently as you coast out of your first climax and straight into another one.

It all starts to blur together now, wave after wave of orgasm washing over you until you’re drowning in it. You come and come and come until it feels like you’re melting into the bed, pinned through by this massive cock and the endless mind-numbing buzz on your clit. You can distantly tell that you’ve soaked a wet spot into the sheets beneath you, that your thighs and even the muscles of your ass are shaking from overstimulation.

“S-S-Seokjin.” It takes you three tries to get his name out, and you’re still not really sure if you said it until the toy switches off. The humming sensation is still reverberating through your body even in the absence of it, enough to make you tremble all over as he picks up the pace.

“Gonna fucking— fill you up,” Seokjin grunts, voice thick with effort, and then his cock twitches at the very back of you, buried deep as it can go, pulsing heavy as he paints you with rope after rope of his release.

You’re still not here, not really, not when he pulls out with a heavy sigh, when the cum starts to drool down your legs, when he drops onto the mattress beside you and pulls you into him. It comes back to you in pieces: you’re shivering all over, breathing hard, your face is wet— fuck, when were you crying?

It takes you several moments to realize Seokjin is murmuring in your ear, that his fingers are carding through your hair, his breath ghosting over your skin. “Just breathe, baby. Did so well, it’s over now. You’re safe.”

As the post-scene comedown settles into your bones, you bury your face into his shoulder, trying to breathe through the myriad of emotions and chemicals flooding your system. He pulls the blanket up over your chest, and the warmth of it and his body help to gently bring you down from the high.

You don’t know how long you lay like that until you finally manage to squeak out a question. “Y-you’re not really mad, right?”

Seokjin laughs gently as he presses a kiss to your hairline. “No, baby. I know you didn’t really forget. The birthday cake in the fridge kinda gave it away.”

The words take a second to hit you, and then a dazed giggle bubbles up in your chest. It’s like you’re floating as you start to laugh, your face still pressed into Seokjin’s skin, and you can feel the rumble of him laughing too. It didn’t even occur to you that he would’ve seen the fucking cake when he grabbed himself a bottle of wine.

“Oh,” is all you can think to say, and you keep giggling as his lips move over the line of your jaw, trailing kisses.

“You’re cute when you’re trying to get punished,” he says softly. “It's part of why I love you. You’re my perfect little brat. And this was the perfect gift, seriously.”

A warm glow blooms in your chest at the praise, and you sigh happily as you curl up against his side. “Can we eat cake in bed?”

Seokjin leans down to brush his mouth over yours, sweetly adoring. “Anything you want.”

#seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #seokjin x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #💜 happy seokjin day 💜

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turtletaubwrites · 9 months ago

Text

A Good Catch ~ Part 3

This was part of my 600 Follower Celebration and I can't thank you enough for all the support. I was glad y'all voted for Shanks... until I wrote this!! It was supposed to be the end. But I wanted them to have more sex. And that led to more fluff, and that led to... Anyways, I know what the end will be, but I'm not going to embarrass myself again by saying it'll be the next chapter. 😅 I have been consumed by this story, and I really hope you enjoy it!!

Pairings: Shanks x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4613

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 (End)

Ao3 Link

Summary: Your unplanned vacation is filled with more than just the pleasure of a certain pirate's touch. Turns out that pirates and fishermen share a love of stories.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, Flirting, Alcohol, Hair Pulling, Penis in Vagina Sex, Unprotected Sex, (Be safe out there), Birth Control, Pet Names, Rough Oral Sex, Face-Sitting, Outdoor Sex, (Very Mild Exhibitionism), Porn with Feelings, Aftercare

A/N: I need help

“Thanks for takin’ pity on our captain.”

“None of that, Lucky Roux,” Shanks scolded, grabbing the bowl of food the man had set down on that dingy table by the fire.

Sunset was on its way, and your stomachs had dragged you reluctantly out of his bed, only to be greeted at the camp by the loudest, and rowdiest cheers you’d ever heard.

Shanks had gotten them to tone it down a bit, kissing your burning cheeks as you sat at his table, but it seemed that Lucky Roux had started it up again.

“He’s right,” Benn agreed, raising his mug to you. “I don’t think we would have survived another night of that.”

“Isn’t Y/N just beautiful? Isn’t she–,” another pirate called in a sing-song voice as he mimicked his captain, and your mouth fell open as the whole crew joined in. Shanks started blustering, trying to rein it in, but it was too late.

“Did you hear how funny she is?”

“And she's soo fiery, did you see her?”

“I was drunk! I was out of my wits,” Shanks yelled over the din while you sat back and laughed.

“I will personally murder each and every one of you!”

He gave up, taking a long drink from his mug while you studied his profile. When he finally looked at you, you couldn’t fight the evil grin on your face.

“Fiery, huh?”

“Alcohol does a lot of things to the mind, and–”

“Are you blushing, captain?”

Your red haired pirate didn’t allow you to lean close to find out before he pulled you to him, kissing you hard. You felt his low hum of approval at the tiny noises you made for him, but it was all drowned out by another round of applause.

“I'm gonna need more booze for this,” he grumbled, waving his now empty mug in the air until a pirate came to fill it.

“Fiery,” you asked again, whispering in his ear before chuckling as he choked on his drink.

“Yeah, well,” he wiped his chin, turning to smirk at you, “I’m pretty sure you like me too, damsel.”

He looked way too pleased with himself as you bit your lip, digging into your food to keep from squirming.

You thought he might steal you away back to his quarters as soon as your bowls were cleared. Instead, he pulled you onto his lap as you spent time with his crew. So many smiling faces, so many stories, so many songs. It seemed like the whole crew took turns joining your table, and tapping their mugs against yours as they introduced themselves.

Now that you didn’t think they were going to attack you in your sleep, you’d decided to drink whatever it was they put in your mug.

But after toasting with so many pirates in a row, you were starting to feel it.

“Mm, Shanks…”

"Mhm," he purred back at you as you nuzzled against his ear.

“I think I’m drunk.”

“Well,” he started, leaving a warm kiss on your forehead, “what does my drunken damsel nee–”

He leaned forward with a wicked chuckle that told you he’d be getting back at you for what you’d just done. You had grinded your ass into his lap, and he was already growing hard again. That sensation had your head lolling back until he sat you up straight on his knee, his arm around your shoulders.

“So you’re demanding and greedy, huh?”

There was no point in arguing as his eyes poured over you, hungrily taking in your ragged breathing, your bitten lip, and the needy look in your eyes.

You watched as he wet his lips, his eyes growing darker even as the light of the fire shined within them.

Nodding as he mouthed the question ‘ready for bed,’ you held onto him, only a bit wobbly as you made your way through the crowd. The shouts of the crew were hardly noticeable with his hand in yours, his thumb smoothing over your skin.

The moon was even closer to being full tonight, and its light dancing on the ocean made you pause after you stepped on deck.

“I haven’t stopped to look for awhile,” you confessed as he brushed your hair out of your face.

“Look at what?”

A surprised laugh bubbled from you as you gestured to the moonlit waves.

“Anything!”

A wave of energy and pleasure rolled over you, and you threw your head back to let out a joyful yell.

“It’s beautiful,” you screamed at the moon. “And look at the waves, they’re so…”

Your joy in this moment felt so freeing, but it broke your heart to realize just how stifled you’d been. To not remember the last time you relaxed, the last time you looked at something just because it felt good.

Shanks caught your hand as the heat of tears rose in your throat. His hair seemed to glow under the silver light, and you didn’t think you’d ever met someone as beautiful as him.

“You’re beautiful too, Y/N,” he rasped, pressing your knuckles to his lips.

“Don’t you mean, ‘fiery,” you laughed in his face, stomach starting to hurt as giggles took over.

He sucked his teeth, narrowing his eyes at you as he dropped your hand.

“You won’t be so fiery after this.”

Shanks twisted his fist into the back of the shirt you’d borrowed, and dragged you, kicking and screaming, to the edge of the ship. Toward those beautiful waves.

Happy, drunken fingers tore at the buttons of the loose shirt until you pulled yourself free, cackling as you held your hands to your bare breasts, and ran inside.

“Y/N,” Shanks shouted, as the pirate on night duty started rolling with laughter.

You had never had this much fun in your life.

Those wood paneled halls all looked the same, so instead of looking for his quarters, you just kept running.

The chase didn’t last long before he shoved you against a wall, his knee spreading your legs as your chest heaved. He dropped the shirt to the ground to push your hand aside, massaging your exposed breast as he kissed you.

It was more than kissing. Drinking, eating, taking.

His thumb brushed over your nipple, already hardened from your flight through the ship. He timed the sensation with his knee pressing against your clothed cunt, and you felt his smile on your own lips as you cried out.

“You’re lucky you’re not a member of my crew, Y/N,” he rasped in your ear, low and dangerous. “This kind of spectacle would have earned you quite the punishment.”

His heat left you as he grabbed the shirt off the ground, holding it up silently until you pulled it on. There was something about him now that you hadn’t felt before. It wasn’t frightening.

But it was powerful. Commanding.

It had you melting under those dark eyes.

“Are you ready for bed, sweetheart?”

All you could do was nod, letting him guide you by the hand until he had you spread on those red sheets again.

Until he had you screaming his name, begging him to fill you up, to leave you dripping.

Still not enough.

He’d kissed his way across your body, pulling you close as his breath went deep and slow with sleep. Once again, this pirate reminded you of the sea, his touch both gentle and chaotic, his voice both soothing and seductive.

Last night you had such conflicting thoughts about him. Tonight his arm was curled around you, his spicy scent more intoxicating than whatever they’d poured in your mug. Tonight your thoughts all matched up.

He’s wonderful.

I’ll never get enough of his smile, his voice, his touch.

I’ve never felt happier than I have with him today.

He’s leaving in a couple days, and I’ll never see him again.

“Don’t you trust me by now, beautiful?”

He couldn’t see your small smile as you secured the blindfold over his eyes.

“Don't you trust me,” you teased, tugging the fabric further down his nose.

“You do have a history of attacking me unprovoked–,” he laughed, holding his hand up to stop your retort. “I just wanna see your pretty face.”

Pressing a kiss to his pouting lips, you made your way down the bed.

“Guess you’ll have to learn to be patient.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but let out a sigh instead as you started tracing your fingers over his skin, giving him the same attention he kept giving you. As if each part of you was precious to him, and he wanted to savor every bit.

Savor. I want to savor this.

So you did. Everything left your mind except for this moment. The way it used to when you still loved to fish.

Shanks had helped you remember how to enjoy life.

You wanted to pay him back.

“F-Fuck, Y/N…”

His red hair fell back against the headboard as you sucked the tip of his leaking cock into your mouth. He fisted the sheets, your name and breathy curses still falling from his lips.

Your mouth and fingers had already teased his whole body until he was twitching, so you didn’t waste time with teasing now. With one hand sliding along his shaft, and the other massaging his heavy balls, you circled your tongue around his tip until spit slid down his length.

“Please, Y/N, let me take this off. Let me see you.”

“Not yet,” you breathed, before you forced your way further down.

“Fuck, please,” he begged, drawing out the words as he moaned. “I need to see your face, I need you, please.”

His shaking, desperate body, and his continued pleas to see you froze you for a moment, your mouth still around his tip.

“Please, I need to see you. Fuuckk, I need you, ple–”

“Take it off.”

This was the face you would never forget.

He looked almost pained when he took it off, his brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched. Then the eyes that met yours looked frantic, almost feral as heavy breaths came from his parted lips.

He touched your jaw, lifting your face as spit trailed from your mouth to his swollen tip.

“I don’t wanna stop looking at you again.”

Chills ran over your skin as you whimpered, your hands clenching on him until he moaned. He let you go, but you were too stunned to move, your hands pausing their task.

He didn’t beg you to continue. He didn’t tease you. He didn’t say a word.

Shanks just stared at you, a hint of a smile on those lips.

Until a low growl filled the room, breaking the spell.

“Does my damsel need breakfast,” he teased softly.

You answered by taking his cock down your throat, relaxing as you pushed yourself further.

“Oh my– fuck! How are you…”

All the filthy, needy sounds he gave you spurred you on. Your eyes were rolling back in your head, until you forced them open, forcing yourself to meet his hungry gaze.

You still hadn’t taken in all of him, but the slide of his thick veins along your tongue told you that you might not have time.

So you pushed further, moaning around him when he wrapped his fingers into your hair. Tears were already prickling in your eyes when you gave him a nod, bracing yourself on his hips. Letting him take control.

“Gods, you’re fucking perfect, sweetheart. So beautiful taking my cock down your throat. I need you so fucking bad–”

Breathing through your nose and hanging on, the feel of him pushing so deep while he watched your face, while he praised and moaned for you… It was all so much, your own body twisting in on itself with need. It felt like you might come without a single touch.

“So good for me, baby. Take my come for me–”

Unrestrained groans tore from him as he twitched, his hand forcing you down. You cried on his cock as hot ropes of come spilled down your throat, so hot, so fucking much.

Your mind was empty of everything except for swallowing every last drop. After he’d emptied himself in you, he lifted you gently, letting out a pleased hum as he watched you lick your lips, and drink it all in.

“Mm, my damsel,” he purred as he kissed your neck, “my darling. Do you wanna have breakfast before or after I drown in your pussy?”

Your stomach could wait.

After a few minutes of water and rest so you could relearn how to breathe, Shanks worshiped your body again, leaving you tingling, giggling at his soft touches.

“Come here, sweetheart. Let me taste you.”

Shaky knees held you up as your nails dug into the headboard. You leaned your forehead against the wall as Shanks’ tongue dragged through your folds as if looking for treasure.

And he found treasure, sucking your clit until you chanted his name.

“Relax,” he rasped, tugging on your hip, “I need my pretty girl to sit on my face.”

You had looked down into those devilish eyes, and his words alone had you crying out.

“But–”

“I’m a pirate, sweetheart. I can hold my breath a long time if I need to.”

His wink tore a laugh from you, and you wanted to poke him for it, but he managed to yank you down with his one hand, his strength making you gasp before his tongue did.

He rocked your hip back and forth until you followed his movement, grinding your needy cunt across his face. He moaned into your sensitive skin, and you made sounds you didn’t know you could make.

“Shaaanks, feels so good.”

Every moan, every word you gave him seemed to set him on fire, his tongue exploring so deep when it wasn’t attacking your clit. Rubbing yourself back and forth felt unreal, his mouth and nose driving you mad.

“Please, fuck… I’m gonna come, Shanks.”

You tried to pull away, but he wrapped his arm around your thigh, pressing down across your hips so hard, adding to the pressure.

The screams you let out were so loud, the whole camp had to have heard you. You fell forward and gripped your fingers in his hair, only able to watch those dark eyes for a second before you came in his mouth.

Shanks didn’t stop, he kept moaning, playing, drinking you in until you slumped against the headboard, and begged him to stop.

“Mm, you look a little distressed,” he rasped in your ear. “How’s my damsel doing?”

He caught your hand as you tried to slap his chest, your limbs weak and useless.

“My girl’s still fiery after all that,” he laughed, kissing the inside of your wrist. “Want me to order us breakfast in bed?”

“Where did you grow up?”

It seemed you wouldn’t be leaving the bed at all today, lounging in messy sheets as you held each other. Laughing, humming with pleasure, sitting in the most comfortable silence you’d ever felt.

Until you started asking questions.

“You’re lookin’ at it,” he gestured vaguely, bringing a frown to your lips.

“Could you be a bit more specific? I don’t think you grew up in these quarters.”

Shanks let out a sigh, rolling to see your face better.

“I grew up on a pirate ship. Always been a pirate.”

“Literally? Or is this some pirate showboating shi–”

“Literally,” he laughed, his grin making you squirm, almost forgetting your goal.

“Well, you’ve heard my whole life story,” you drawled, lightly poking his chest. “I’d like to hear something about the drunken pirate that took me hostage.”

“It’s a vacation,” he teased, leaving kisses on your neck until you squealed.

He gave you a satisfied look as your skin flushed, before tapping the tip of your nose.

“You really haven’t heard of me?”

“Should I have? I don’t really pay attention to gossip. The news seems so far away from this shitty island.”

Tilting his head, he gestured to himself, puffing up his chest.

“Red Haired Shanks?”

“… Well, that is how I would describe you,” you deadpanned, trying not to laugh.

Another heavy sigh left him as he stood, and you admired the sight of his toned body as he headed toward the desk. He laughed at the mess he’d made emptying the drawers last night before he picked up the little stone, and tossed it to you.

He winked when you caught it, rolling it around in your hands while you watched him pull out a piece of paper.

Staring at it for a minute, Shanks turned back to you, looking more serious than you’d ever seen him.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s alright,” he said softly, walking toward you as you sat up in the bed. “I have to show you something, and I don’t want you to be scared.”

Sitting beside you, he caught your eyes, holding your gaze as if you’d disappear if he looked away.

You didn’t think anything about him could scare you anymore until this moment.

“What is it,” you choked out, hoping you weren’t about to lose this perfect feeling with him.

He quirked his lips as he looked down, the crinkling of paper the only sound as he laid it on your lap.

“Wow, you look…”

Shanks’ gorgeous face had distracted you. You knew he was a pirate. Of course he would have a bounty on him. But…

“4,048,900,900 berries?”

It felt like your eyes almost popped out of your skull as you shrieked, smacking his chest while he gave a sheepish grin.

“Looks like you’ve got expensive taste?”

“What the fuck, Shanks?”

Shoving the bounty poster at him, a headache started to form as your mind failed to comprehend a thing.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, stopping himself as he reached out to touch your shoulder. “I’m still just me. Your handsome, drunken pirate, okay?”

You stared at him dumbly as he chewed on his lip, and you were present enough to see the worry in his eyes.

“You’re still safe with me, Y/N. You’re still safe here. I would never hurt you.”

He stopped himself again as he reached for your face, his breath catching when you took his hand in yours.

“I know,” you whispered, holding his hand against your cheek. “I know I’m safe with you.”

A smile of relief broke across his face as he leaned in. You stopped his lips with your fingers, and narrowed your eyes at him, watching his go wide.

“Now you owe me some stories.”

His laugh was like music, and you gasped as you let him fall upon you, letting this pirate taste you, his kiss full of desperate, infectious joy.

“You have heard of the king of the pirates, right?”

“I’ve never met anyone who’s lived more stories than grandma.”

“Your grandma sounds like an amazing woman. What kind of stories did she live,” Shanks asked as he walked his fingers along your skin.

“Well, the thing about fisherman,” you laughed, stretching your arms above your head, “is that you never know which stories are true or not.”

You tapped his nose as his eyes fucking sparkled at you.

“You keep telling me that lying is bad for the soul, but lying for a good story is what makes a true fisherwoman.”

Shanks beamed at you, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“Do you think any of her stories were true?”

Countless hours beside her, just waiting for a bite, flooded your mind. Those were times you treasured, before you grew to feel ashamed, and frustrated with your lot in life.

Those were times that felt magical, like every possibility was free for you to grasp.

“I'd like to think so,” you mused, seeing her playful grin in your mind, “but I’m pretty sure she was a pirate if they were.”

He let you taste his smile as he kissed you, and you’d never tasted anything better.

The two of you finally left his quarters for dinner, his warm arm and cloak wrapped around you as you were met with more cheers at the camp.

“Listen up, crew,” Shanks shouted as he stood, his drink held high. “Our fisherwoman has tales to tell of her grandma the pirate, so let’s gather round. Let’s toast to the woman who taught our fiery damsel how to live!”

Tugging at him was useless as the crew gathered around the fire, their raucous cheers dying down as they waited.

You were frozen, caught in dread and embarrassment until they called for you.

“Come on, fisherwoman! Let us hear it.”

“Tell us a story, Y/N!”

Shanks rubbed along your spine before taking your hand. You held the stone in the other, and let her stories pour out.

You’d never had anyone to share them with before, and it felt like home. Their reactions, their laughs, and questions, all of it spurred you on. The way they’d cheer and toast over triumphs, and curse over misfortunes, filled you with pride.

“That’s Skypiea, “Yassop called out, amidst a wave of affirmations.

“What’s that,” you questioned, this being the first real interruption of the night.

“That island,” Benn explained, “we’ve been there before.”

“Don’t fuck with me. That’s stupid, I know she made this one up,” you argued, annoyed with the lies on their faces. “An island in the sky? Come on.”

Shanks squeezed your hand until you looked at him.

“It’s true,” he swore, eyes heavy with it. “You’re the only one who’s allowed to lie on this crew.”

“But…”

“She must have been a great pirate if she made it to Skypiea,” Lucky Roux chimed in. “What was her name?”

None of them recognized it, and you tried to put the idea to rest.

“If she was a great pirate who settled down with a kid, she probably changed her name,” Benn stated, as if it were fact.

“No. That’s crazy…”

“To the great fisherwoman pirate,” Shanks toasted, with what sounded like reverence. “May her stories live on.”

You drank to the calls of ‘hear hear,’ and her untrustworthy name being shouted at the finally full moon.

“Well, she did cuss like a sailor,” you whispered, still dissociating after Shanks had pulled you onto his lap. He laughed, kissing the top of your head before he whispered back.

“Wanna take a walk with me?”

“Mhm.”

Everything was so bright, the moonlight making the world feel even more surreal.

This man I’ve been drowning in is an Emperor of the Sea.

And grandma's stories might really be true...

You’d been too lost in thought to notice where he’d taken you, until he helped you climb onto the smooth rock by the tide pools.

Careful not to slip, he guided you around to a relatively dry spot, far enough away to be untouched by the tide this early in the night.

“How are you feeling?”

He touched your chin as you sat down, bringing a small gasp to your lips when you saw his shining face, lit like some mythical creature under this heavenly sky.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly, genuinely searching yourself for the answer. “I think I’m good. It’s just a lot.”

His slow smile caught you again, and the knowledge that your time was short shook you, making you reach for him too.

Falling into a hug, you breathed in the scent of him.

I wish this never had to end.

“You sure you’re alright,” he checked in, smoothing his hand over your back as you buried your face in his chest.

“Kiss me.”

Your whispered command took your breath as his lips met yours. The gentlest of touches, the sweetness he poured into you, made it even harder not to let bittersweet tears fall.

One more day. I have another perfect day with him. Don’t ruin it.

Your hands curled into his hair, and you whimpered with need as he let you push him onto his back.

Shanks met your desperate need, grinding up against you as you straddled him, drinking your moans as your tongues danced together. Chaos, the crashing waves getting closer.

“Y/N,” he breathed, watching you stand to strip under that silver light, tugging his pants down so that you could feel him again.

You needed to feel him again.

“Y/N, you’re incredible. I…”

The full moon lit your skin, but not as much as his gaze did. Those dark eyes left you on fire as you rode his perfect cock to the sound of the tide, his rough hand making you shake as he smoothed along your hips, your stomach, your chest.

“You make me feel so good,” you moaned, still fighting off the bitter from the sweet. “I’ve never felt so—“

Shanks found leverage against the stone, making you cry out as he thrusted up into you, forcing you to steady yourself with your hands on his chest.

“Fuck, I could stay inside you forever, sweetheart. Your perfect pussy sucks me in so well— Mm fuck, yes, baby.”

Falling forward, you moaned against his skin as you came. He kept fucking up into you until you screamed his name.

“Making yourself come on my cock,” he soothed, stroking your hair as his rhythm slowed, but never stopped. “My girl is so good, so good for me.”

His praise brought whimpers from your lips until he pushed himself up, kissing your neck as you sat in his lap, still holding his heat inside you.

“Will you help me spread out the clothes, beautiful? I need you— I need to watch you under the moon like this. Please, damsel, let me…”

You both moaned as you pulled yourself off of him, crawling to the pile of clothes to spread them out. He finished stripping, helping you lay down with a makeshift pillow.

Your fingers wrapped around his length, guiding him to your entrance as his eyes burned into yours. Leaning his weight on his elbow beside you, Shanks’ powerful body started to pump into you, filling you, stretching you.

Slowly, but so deep it made your eyes roll back.

“Look at me, please.”

His words were barely a whisper, barely loud enough to hear over the waves. But you heard his plea, your fingers digging into his skin as you studied his face.

It hurt. You fought to let it be joy. But the intensity, the need, the awe that seemed to flow from him was too much.

Because it seemed to match yours, and you couldn't risk believing it.

Timing your breath with the waves, you let the bitter fade away. You let yourself be nothing at all, except for the lucky person making love to him under the light of the moon. The lucky person whose skin got to be seen, and touched, and tasted by this perfect pirate. This beautiful, sweet, intoxicating man.

Neither of you spoke again. Just watched each other as you fell apart, and the only words given to the night were your names.

Your bodies met that blissful moment together, like some pagan ritual. The bright sky bore witness to pure pleasure, pure connection.

The magic seemed to last forever, your breathless bodies still melded together. Still together.

Until bitter finally won, breaking the spell as salty tears slid down to meet the tide.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

Mourning the loss of him as he left your body, you brushed those tears aside, and did what every fisherwoman knows how to do.

“I’m okay,” you breathed, smiling as you touched his cheek.

You lied.

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Please save me, I am down a rabbit hole. Too far down, I think. Damn these "one shots," consuming my soul, making me fall in love. I don't know if I'll recover from this one.

Part 4 (End)

#shanks x reader #red haired shanks #x reader #reader insert #fem!reader #one piece x reader #one piece fics #turtletaub fics #follower celebration #fic requests #mine #fluff #one piece fluff #shanks fluff #shanks fics #shanks smut #one piece smut #smut #use of y/n

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flightlessangelwings · 1 year ago

Text

Us Against the World

Tasm!Peter Parker x gn!reader

Word count- 4.4k

Dialogue prompt- “ hey! why don’t you try picking on someone your own size! “ Action prompt- [ DISTRACT ]: sender causes a distraction to draw the receiver’s attacker/s away from them.

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY), action, protective!Peter, food mention (reader makes salsa), Peter lifts reader, attempted harm to reader, the villain uses gas and chemistry to attack and reader is described as being trapped in a cloud at one point, reader interacts with kids briefly, no use of y/n

Notes- This month’s Year of Protectiveness is in honor of Andrew Garfield's birthday! I can't believe we're in August already! @yearofcreation2023 But this one was alot of fun to write so I hope y'all enjoy it! And I wrote it so that it could be read in the same timeline as Just Kiss Like Real People Do so if you liked that one, here is more with that pair but of course it could be read on its own! I"ll link it in the taglist rb if you want a refersher!

@flightlessangelwings-updatesis my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifs!

The city lights illuminated the way as Peter swung through the tall buildings of New York. The air was crisp so high up, and it felt refreshing after a long night of being Spider-Man. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but he knew it was late… well after midnight. And even though the villain he was chasing got away… again… all Peter looked forward to was coming home to you.

Peter expected you to be sound asleep in the tiny apartment, so he was surprised when the light from the widow shined like a beacon calling him back. His heart pounded in his chest and he hoped you were alright as he flipped his wrist to shoot a web towards the building and hurled himself into the window. Letting out a heavy breath, Peter ripped off the Spider-Man mask and closed the window behind him.

Just as he was about to call out your name, the sound of the blender filled the space. That combined with the intoxicating aroma of the spices and tomatoes told Peter exactly what you were doing. His stomach growled as he stepped out of the tiny bedroom and into the living space where you were occupied at the kitchen counter.

He stood in the doorway for a moment and just watched you with a lovestruck expression on his face. Every time he saw you it was like the first time, and even dressed down in a t-shirt and shorts, you looked stunning to him. You were too consumed with putting the last touches on your salsa that you didn’t hear him come in. But, Peter enjoyed the view for the time being and his heart skipped a beat in his chest with the overwhelming emotions he felt towards you.

But, when you let out a startled yelp, Peter quickly jumped into action.

You had turned around and were surprised when you saw him standing there. So surprised that you almost dropped the blender that held the salsa you had worked so hard on. But Peter was quick, and in a flash he jumped across the room and caught it before it hit the floor and splattered everywhere.

“Peter!” you exclaimed, “You scared the shit out of me! I didn’t hear you come in!”

“Sorry sweetheart,” he mumbled sheepishly as he set the blender on the counter, licking a drop that splashed onto his fingers after, “Wouldn’t want to waste any of your famous salsa,” he laughed softly, “But why are you up? It’s 3 in the morning.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged as you eyed him up and down. Ever since you found out that Peter Parker, your best friend, the person you had been in love with for years, was Spider-Man, it never got old seeing him in the suit. His long, toned arms, muscular body and especially the messy hair took your breath away every time.

“Everything alright?” Peter asked, concern lining his tone as he peeled the top half of the suit off and stepped closer towards you.

“Fine,” you fidgeted as you felt your skin heat up under his gaze as your eyes dropped down to the floor, “Just thought you’d be hungry when you got back…” your voice sounded distant.

Peter looked at you with a softness and adoration in his eyes as he reached out and cupped your face, gently pulling you to look at him, “You know I know when you’re lying to me, right?” his voice was soft as his thumb brushed your cheek.

You let out a shaky breath as his eyes locked with yours, “I…” you trembled in under his hand, “I was worried…” you admitted.

“Baby,” Peter rested his free hand on your waist, holding you in his special way, “I’m fine, honestly. You know nothing would ever keep me from coming back to you, right?” he exhaled deeply, “I promise,” he took a breath, “You and me, remember?”

Tears filled the corners of your eyes at the sincerity in his voice and the confident look in his face. You knew he had been Spider-Man for a long time now, he had his powers and he knew what he was doing. Yet, you’d never loved anyone as much as you loved Peter, and sometimes you couldn’t help but worry as your mind went to the worst possible scenario.

“I know,” you breathed. You opened your mouth to say more, but the words were caught in your throat as Peter reeled forward and kissed you deeply. Somehow, you were sure he knew what you were going to say, how much you worried for him. He said it in his kiss.

“Sweetheart,” Peter mumbled between kisses as he backed you up against the counter, “As much as I love your salsa…” his voice dropped and his eyes darkened, “There’s something else I want right now…”

“Peter!” you couldn’t help but laugh at his insinuation, but you also felt a pulse of need through your body. You clung to his shoulders as your mind swam and your body warmed.

He let out a soft chuckle as his hands roamed up and down your sides, savoring the feeling of you under his touch. As much as it was a comfort to you to feel Peter’s hands on you, to feel his touch, it was just as much a comfort for him to know you were here and safe. Peter’s cock twitched as his hands dipped under the waistband of your shorts and in a flash he yanked them off of you, causing you to yelp in surprise.

But, before you could react to your shorts and underwear suddenly on the floor, you found yourself hoisted up onto the kitchen counter. Giggles erupted between you as Peter nestled himself between your legs… your bare legs. A low groan unlike anything you ever heard rumbled from deep in Peter’s throat as his eyes landed between your legs.

“Fuck…” he breathed heavily in a tone that made you shiver.

“Pete,” you sighed as you watched him drop down to his knees.

Immediately, you buried your hands in his hair as his hands ghosted along your inner thighs. Peter mumbled your name in a praise before he licked his lips and dove into you, causing you to scream loudly.

You saw stars as Peter worked you with his tongue, licking and slurping every sensitive spot with precision. You could tell even in your blissed out state that he was too desperate to tease you and take it slow tonight. Tonight was all about need; it was the need for both of you to know the other was here.

Tugging at his hair, you felt like your body was on fire from the way he worked you with his talented mouth. Every flick of his tongue sent waves of pleasure up your spine, and you were sure you weren’t going to last much longer. You arched your back as parted your legs more to give Peter more access to your body, an invitation that he immediately accepted.

“Shit… Pete…” you moaned as you felt your body tingle.

Peter grabbed your inner thighs and squeezed hard as he intensified his motions, determined to push you over the edge in bliss. And from the way you screamed his name, he knew you were close.

It only took a few more licks of his tongue, a few more nibbles of his lips, one last nuzzle of his head before you came hard. Your head slammed against the cabinet as you screamed, your legs trembling under his strong grip as you gushed into his mouth. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as bursts of color clouded your vision.

As Peter coaxed you down from you high, you felt his movements slow before he reluctantly broke away from you. A trail of spit connected the two of you until he moved far enough for it to break, but in the corner of his mouth remained a shiny dribble of your release. Peter watched until you opened your eyes to lick it clean with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Delicious,” he chuckled as he rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around you, “But I’m not done with you yet,” he tone dropped as he easily picked you up and spun you around.

“Pete!” you yelped as you wrapped your arms and legs around his strong body. No matter how many times he lifted you up, you never quite got used to his super strength, and it caught you off guard in the most wonderful way every time.

He quickly made his way across the small apartment and gently lowered you down onto the bed, handing you with tender care as he did so. Peter stood for a moment and admired the sight of you, spread out on the bed, naked from the waist down and a look of pure bliss on your face. Hastily, he ripped off his Spider-Man suit so he was bare for you, and the way you eyed him hungrily made his cock stiffen even more.

“Like the view, sweetheart?” he asked with a cocky grin.

“Very much,” you purred as you bit your lip and extended your arms for him. You loved when he got like this.

“I do too,” his tone matched yours as he hovered over you, “But,” Peter grabbed your shirt, “You’re overdressed.”

You burst into laughter at his antics and allowed him to take off your shirt, the only barrier between your bodies. The two of you let out matching gasps at the sight of the other, as if it was the first time all over again. At times, it felt like that for both of you. The wonder, the passion, the desire never got old so matter how many times you slept together.

“I love you,” Peter broke the silence with a breathless voice as he cupped your face.

“I love you too,” you replied in a dreamy tone as you mirrored his action.

In a flash, Peter closed the gap between your bodies with a heated and desperate kiss. He swallowed the moan you let out as you parted your lips for him once more. The taste of yourself on Peter’s tongue was just as intoxicating for you as it was for him, and you bucked your hips against his hardened cock in a wordless plea.

Without breaking away, Peter muffled a moan as he positioned himself between your legs once more, this time with his cock poking at your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into you, past the first ring of muscle and into your warmth to connect your bodies together.

The moan you let out made you break away from the kiss, and your cry of pleasure echoed in the tiny room as Peter entered you inch by slow inch. You heard Peter’s own moans as he felt you engulf him, and he rested his forehead against yours as he slowly bottomed out inside of you.

Together, the two of you laid with Peter on top of you. Heavy breaths filled the room as you stayed with your sweaty foreheads pressed together. You wrapped your arms around him and dug your nails into his shoulders, clinging to him desperately.

“Move,” you pleaded softly.

He groaned your name and compiled without another word. He started slowly at first, rocking in and out of you, savoring the moans and groans you let out every time he was fully sheathed inside you. It wasn’t until you let out a higher pitched cry that Peter picked up his pace; he found what he was looking for.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” Peter moaned, “Shit…”

The bed creaked as Peter thrust in and out of you faster and faster. As much as he wanted to keep his eyes open, to watch every expression you made when he was inside you, he couldn’t. He knew he would cum too fast if he watched the way your mouth hung open and your body bounced with his every move.

But luckily for him, you also weren’t far behind.

“Fuck!” you screamed as you dug your nails into Peter’s skin, “I’m gonna cum… Peter…”

“Me too baby,” Peter grunted, “Fuck…”

Peter’s thrusts became fast and erratic as he chased his climax as well as your own. He pounded into you with fervor as you screamed and your second climax hit suddenly. Your inner muscles clenched around him as you squeezed him inside and out. That and your beautiful screams were just the final push Peter needed for his own orgasm, and with a loud moan of your name, he came deep inside you. But, he kept going, wanting to savor every second of your shared climaxes together until he couldn’t hold himself up any longer.

Peter let out a deep exhale as he collapsed down on top of you. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him as close as you could. Neither of you wanted to move, content to stay in the other’s embrace, safe and loved. For several long moments, no one spoke, and just the sound of slow, deep breaths filled the room as you felt the other’s heart pound against your bodies.

It was Peter who broke the silence first with your name in a low voice.

“Hmm?” you hummed as you ran your hand through his hair.

“You know I’ll always come back to you, right?” Peter said as he propped himself up on his elbows to look into your eyes.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, “I know,” you cupped his face the same way he did yours earlier, “I trust you… I just worry sometimes,” you admitted.

“I do too,” Peter breathed, “But I’ll always keep you safe, sweetheart.”

The truth was Peter always worried about you too. He was scared that someday someone would find out his superhero alter and use you against him. He was scared that one day you would get hurt because of him. He was scared that one day he might not get back to you in time… But, as much as you trusted him, Peter had to trust you too. Having no one else, it was just the two of you against the world.

“I’m gonna go shower then we can sleep in tomorrow,” Peter broke himself from his thoughts, “How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” you purred as you gave him a chaste kiss on the lips, “A day at home together sounds like just what we both need. But remember, the day after is that science museum day I wanted to go to.”

Peter let out a soft laugh as he tapped your face playfully, “I wouldn’t miss it, baby.”

“Looks like we came on a school field trip day,” you commented as you and Peter walked hand in hand into the science museum.

Children filled the space and chattered excitedly among themselves. The two of you followed close behind the class as you lost yourself in the exhibits. At one point, you broke away from Peter so you could play with one of the hands-on displays, and he couldn’t help but chuckle brightly at you as you were just as excited as the kids were.

As Peter watched you, a thought popped into his head: he was ready to marry you. He had never been more in love with you than he was at that moment as you laughed in fascination at the exhibit. He wanted to marry you for some time, but as he stared stupidly at you, Peter knew it was time for him to pop the question.

“Hey Pete…?” your voice broke him from his thoughts.

Peter suddenly found himself face to face with you, and he must have zoned out for a moment because you looked concerned, “Yeah?” he asked as he cleared his throat and tried not to look conspicuous.

“Everything ok?” you asked as you tilted your head to the side a bit.

Peter just smiled back at you; you had no idea what he had in store for you, “Perfect,” he slid his hand in yours again, “Shall we check out that chemistry demonstration?” his tone was light, “You look like you’re having more fun than the kids are,” Peter joked.

“Shut up,” you giggled as you playfully nudged him.

Peter imagined that your hand would feel like with a ring on your finger as he fiddled with your knuckles. Yes, it was time, and everything was perfect. But, just as it felt like nothing could bring down his mood, a chill ran up Peter’s spine and he was suddenly filled with a sense of dread the moment the two of you crossed the threshold into the other room where the chemistry table was set up.

He stopped dead in his tracks as his heart sank and the hairs on his neck and arms stood up. The man behind the table was instantly recognizable to him; he was the one that kept slipping out of his grasp. And the feeling of dread was only made worse when the chemist looked up from his table and made direct eye contact with him.

It was like he knew.

“Peter?” you sounded even more worried than before as you tugged his arm.

Without a word, Peter dragged you out of the room and down the hallway towards the bathrooms. His heart pounded in his chest as his first thought was of keeping you safe and getting you out of harm’s way.

“Peter?!” you repeated more forcefully, “What’s going on?”

“Listen to me,” Peter grabbed your shoulders and spun you to look him in the eyes, “That guy… He’s…” he let out an exasperated sigh, “He’s the guy I haven’t been able to catch,” he finished in a hushed tone.

You gasped as your eyes went wide.

“I think he knows who I am too. Something just feels off,” Peter sounded more scared than you’d ever heard him before, “But I want you to get out of here, I’m going to stop him here and now.”

“What about those kids?” you asked as your breath came out fast and ragged, “We have to get everyone else out too,” you inhaled deeply, “Let me help you, Pete.”

His lips tightened as he paused for a moment before he spoke with a heavy exhale, “I’m going to create a distraction, and you help them out,” Peter’s grip on your shoulders tightend, “But you promise me you’ll get yourself out of here.”

You nodded, swallowing your fear, “What kind of distraction were you thinking?”

At the same time, both your heads turned and both your eyes landed on the fire alarm that stood out on the wall. You looked back at Peter and he nodded at you, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

“I love you.” Peter’s words sounded more like an assurance than a confession.

You knew what he meant too: Stay safe.

In a flash, Peter pulled the fire alarm before he rushed around the corner to rip his shirt off, revealing the spider suit underneath. At the same time, you ran towards the children, who you headed screaming and panicking before you even reached the room.

“Quickly!” you shouted, “Outside! Now!”

The kids scrambled as they rushed towards the door and you ushered them out. But, as you did that, a movement from the front of the room caught your attention.

The chemist dissolved into a fit of rage, and you heard his angry mumbles to himself even over the fire alarm. Smoke billowed out from either side of him as he mixed his viles together and for a brief moment, he looked up and caught your gaze.

Everything felt like it froze as you locked eyes with him, and suddenly you knew what Peter felt. It felt like this man looked into your soul and read your deepest secrets. Your blood ran cold and fear pulsed through your veins as he suddenly launched himself at you.

You yelped and covered your head, anticipating an impact, but it never came. Looking up, you saw Spider-Man clinging to the ceiling, a shot of web tangling with the chemist and stopping him in his tracks.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Spider-Man quipped as he flung another web shot at him and flipped over to stand in front of you.

“Spider-Man…” the chemist growled as he threw a bottle towards him.

Peter quickly covered you, protecting you from the impact as well as the few kids who still hadn’t gotten out.

“Spider-Man!” They cheered together as they kept for joy- and relief- at seeing their favorite hero.

“Get out of here kids!” Peter instructed before he glanced at you for a moment. The two of you nodded subtly before he turned back to the chemist and launched himself at him.

“Come on,” you breathed, “Hurry!”

You pushed the rest of the kids out of the room, but before you yourself exited, you couldn’t help but look back. Deep down, you knew Peter put himself in danger as Spider-Man, but to actually see him fight in person, and so close, was something else. You felt fear, but not for yourself. Watching him take and deliver hit after hit honestly scared you.

But you suddenly had something else to worry about.

“You!” The chemist roared as he gathered his concoctions.

“No!” Peter sounded more scared than you had ever heard him before.

Clearly, it was obvious to the chemist how important you were to Spider-Man, to Peter, and he took advantage of the opportunity. Before either of you could react, he threw something at you, and you found yourself surrounded by a blinding gas.

You gasped as you covered your mouth and dropped to the floor. Faintly, you heard the grunts of Peter fighting him still, but you couldn’t see anything. You were sure if it was from the gas or just from the adrenaline but you felt more and more dizzy the longer you stayed in the fog.

I’m another flash, you heard an explosion and the building shook. You struggled to keep from falling completely flat on the floor and you scrambled to stay on your hands and knees, ready for anything.

You heard your name in Peter’s voice before you saw his silhouette appear in the fog. You tried to call out his name, but your voice croaked. Reaching out for him your hand trembled until it finally made contact with his.

“I’m here,” Peter murmured to you as he yanked you close, “Cover your mouth and hang on,” his voice trembled, “I’m getting you out of here.”

All you could do was nod as you felt yourself lifted into his arms with his super strength. You covered your mouth as you clung to him with your other arm. A gust of air hit your face as you found yourself flung through the air as Peter flipped and flung your bodies out of the museum. Faintly, you both heard the kids cheering for Spider-Man and shouting excitedly. Usually, Peter would have stopped for them, but right now his first priority was you and your safety.

You buried your head in the crook of his neck as you felt the air get fresher and fresher as he fwiped through the buildings and landed you both in an empty skyscraper far away from everyone.

The moment he sat you down, Peter ripped off his mask and looked you over, cupping your face as he did so. “Look at me,” he sounded breathless, “Are you hurt?”

You immediately saw the look of pure fear on his face, and it made your heart sink. You were sure you looked a mess, and you felt sore but you didn’t feel hurt. “I’m ok,” you whispered.

Peter exhaled your name in relief as he gathered you in his arms. “You’re ok, sweetheart,” he cupped the back of your head as he held you as close and as tight as he could, “You’re ok…”

You weren’t sure if his words were for you or for himself. Perhaps both.

“I’m ok Pete,” you whispered softly in his ear as you clung to him, feeling safe in his arms. All the fear and adrenaline slowly faded away and you felt calm and safe the longer he held you. With one deep exhale, you felt better and you pulled away just enough to look into his eyes while still remaining secure in his arms, “Did you really have to wait and pull a dramatic rescue like that?” you smirked softly.

Peter rolled his eyes at you, but at the same time he was relieved to hear you say that; it meant you were back to normal with your wits about you, “Sweetheart…” he breathed. The truth was he had never been more scared, especially with the explosion. He opened his mouth to voice that, but the words were caught in his throat. Peter grimaced at the thought of losing you and a tear formed in the corner of his eye.

Sensing the change in tone, you tried to distract him, “Hey Pete?” you asked.

“Hmm?”

“What happened… To…?”

His grip on you tightened, “I think the mixtures he was using affected his mind… Made him so angry… He…Umm,” Peter trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud and upset you.

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure of what to say next. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for several moments as the breeze hit your faces. “Well, thank you,” you broke the silence, “For saving me.”

That brought a smile to Peter’s face. He leaned in and kissed you deeply, expressing all his emotions in the kiss instead of with his words, “You never have to thank me, honey,” he murmured against your lips as he placed a chaste kiss, “I’ll always protect you.”

You grinned against his cheek as your eyes fluttered closed, “And I’ll always take care of you too,” you hummed, “We made a good team back there though, didn’t we?”

“We did,” Peter chuffed, “You and me…”

“Against the world,” you finished the thought.

Silence fell over the two of you again, but before either of you could say anything, a growl from your stomach interrupted. You looked at Peter and both of you burst into laughter.

“I guess all that excitement made me hungry,” you chuckled.

“How about we get out of here then?” Peter said with a smirk, “I know a place that’s got the best salsa. We’ll pick up some tacos or something on the way too.”

You smiled brightly at him, “Sounds perfect…” you poked his chest, “Spider-Man.”

Peter felt his heart flutter in his chest. Oh yes, he definitely was going to find you the best ring he could and he was going to ask you to marry him as soon as possible.

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brainrotbabe24 · 3 months ago

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Idk about this idea but I’ve been thinking about like- reader who’s similar quicksilver from the X-men. Like super fast, fast metabolism, ADHD to the max. Basically just the dwarves dealing with reader constant yapping and need for sweets.

Hi! Thank you for the request!

Okay, so you get a two-in-one, lol! I went a little crazy with this one and interpreted it into two scenarios.

The company reacting to the reader's ADHD craziness

How the company would react to the reader having superpowers

I also wrote a scenario yesterday about the company finding out the reader has ADHD. That felt like a prequel to this ask...it will be linked below

Thank you for such a fun idea. I hope it's okay I wrote it like this and not one scenario!💖🎉

The company reacting to reader's ADHD craziness

Balin: Just watches from afar and laughs at your shenanigans. Loves the energy you give the group, always keeping them on their toes!

Dwalin: Loves you, but every so often he needs quiet lol

Óin: Oin would send you on wild errands! He found out the hard way that boring adventures get you distracted…so the crazier, the better.

“Y/N, I asked for rosemary, and you literally came back with a bag of potatoes and a bloody nose. What did you do????”

Glóin: He just lets you do your thing. "Y/N will run out of steam at some point." Tired dad vibes…

Bifur: Bifur would gift you fidget toys! I bet he would take the time to make them for you too! How sweet 🥺

Bofur: Jam sessions/singing constantly! Due to your ADHD, you guys would switch up the genre quite a bit. It would be a total production, too!

Bombur: Would be down to go on crazy little side quests with you! You usually take him on the quests Oin gives you. Y'all would be like Merry and Pippin in LOTR

Ori: He would try to get you interested in hobbies to help keep you focused…like knitting. It doesn’t work, but you’ll still sit with him while he knits because he can keep up with your conversations and constant changing of topics.

Side note: I could not find a GIF of this exact topic...so imagine the reader is Homer and Ori is Marge trying to keep up with the conversation. Bart and Lisa are the rest of the company, lol 😂😂

Dori: Dori would be a helicopter mom! He would be scared you would get hurt, and worried other people in the company would influence your recklessness. You would basically be absorbed into their little family, lol!

Nori: Nori would team up with you to do some wild shit. He is the bad influence Dori is scared about

Thorin: Tired. Realized at this point that half the company has ADHD. Y'all ain't getting to Erebor any time soon.

Fíli: I think he would enjoy the late-night chat session! He would make sure to sleep next to you during the adventure because at least twice a night, you would wake him up and ask him random questions.

Kíli: He has ADHD, too. So, the fact that both of you have it makes me feel like Kili would see that as a deep connection—like soulmate material! I wouldn't put it past him to propose…

Bilbo: Would make you a cute little journal to write down your to-do's!

Gandalf: Gandalf would be a provoker like Nori. Imagine everyone is calming down for the night, you are all tired out, and then out of nowhere, you hear him whisper, “Psst Y/N ask Kili why he can’t grow a beard.” or “psst Y/N I heard Thorin wanted to hear about your super specific hyper fixation that takes hours to explain…(like one piece lol with all its episodes 😭).”

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How the company reacts to reader having superpowers

Balin: He can’t keep up. You are too fast, and it hurts his brain. He does appreciate the hard work you put in when there is an orc ambush.

Dwalin: He loves it! He thinks you are a strong, courageous badass. He is happy you are on their side. Will cheer you on in battle!

Óin: Tries to figure out how you do it … isn't convinced fully. Is it magic? Are you eating something?

Glóin: He blames the food or candy you were eating. He does not believe you have powers… that's all nonsense.

Bifur: Couldn't care! Like Dwalin, he is just thankful you are on their side.

Bofur: Comes up with nicknames/superhero names for you - a true fanboy, lol!

Bombur and Ori: Would think it’s magic!

Dori: Would make sure you got enough rest.

Nori: Tries to convince you to use your skills for evil, like stealing or cheating at games...maybe not evil but definitely his gain lol

Thorin: He's super excited! He wants to use your skills to help reclaim Erebor and constantly asks you to do recon.

Fíli: He's excited like his uncle, but he would want to train with you so he can keep up, lol.

Kíli: Kili would want to compete! “Come on, y/n, let's see who's faster! I know I’ll beat you.” Maybe he is a little jealous that his uncle likes you and trusts you to do recon and other cool stuff.

Bilbo: He would think you also had a “special” ring and get paranoid. He would also ask you a lot of questions to see if you know about his ring.

Gandalf: Suspicious! He doesn't believe you are from this universe. It leaves more questions than answers.

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Link to the ADHD one I was talking about above:

#the hobbit #bilbo baggins #gandalf #thorins company #thorin oakenshield #fili and kili #fili durin #kili #nori #dori #ori #bombur #bofur #bifur #gloin #oin #balin #dwalin #superhero #adhd

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small-sinclair · 1 year ago

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Hello, I'm new to your blog but absolutely loved your Bo x Sleepy S/O headcanons. Was wondering how you think Bo would handle a very independent stubborn reader that doesn't know how to ask for help; getting far too ill to be going around the house. Maybe with a sprinkle of bashfulness? Hope this ask happens to be your cup of tea, I'm new to the blog and honestly haven't sent an ask to anyone in ages XD Thanks in advance, sending you best wishes ^u^

Welcome to my blog, new friend! This is just my cup of tea, too. I wrote this a while back when I was sick that has all three brothers! (pst, @fluffy-little-demon and @leewalkin, thought of y'all when I made this)

Enjoy!

Bo with a sick s/o

Bo is like a weed: He'll thrive under any condition.

You, on the other hand, have an HP of 3 plus 10 fall damage.

But you're one determine motherfucker.

You crowed out of bed, swaying side to side. You feel the world weighing you down and you just want to sleep... but you have work to do around the house.

Besides, you don't want to quit now. You're so close to proving to everyone you belong in Ambrose, so why is your body betraying you.

Then you fall down the stairs...

Bo nearly drops the coffee pt on his hand, but he caught himself and placed it back on the burn. He set his mug down on the kitchen counter as he leaves the kitchen. Sometimes, Vincent would miss a step if he go too little sleep. As much as he doesn't say it, he hates it when his twin over does it (thought they are almost done with their mother's dream).

"Vincent?" He asked coming to the steps. "Hey! Get your Vincent van Gogh waxed ass back to," he stops at the bottom of the steps and sees you with your face in the wooden floor, "...bed." He kneels down and slowly lifts you into his arms, resting your head in his shoulder. He's not in a rush or sure if he should be worried about you. "Darlin'? Y/n?" He asked, shaking you slightly. "Sweet heart?"

"I'm good, Bo," you murmur, pushing yourself weakly against him. You tried to get up, but you felt your knees buckle and you slouched against his arms. "I need to get work done."

"Honey, words are slurrin'," Bo raises a brow at you. "Bed. Sleep. Now."

You shake your head as you tried to move again. "I can handle it."

"Ya can't even stand."

"I don't need no man to tell me shit," you playfully smack his chest, but your hand felt too heavy. You leaned against his chest and hummed at his warmth. "Warm... you're so warm."

You felt the back of his hand, and he clicks his tongue. "Sweetheart, yer burnin' faster than heart burn on a Sunday." You felt his arms under your legs as he lifts you up. He carries you upstairs back to your room.

"No, no," you whined. "Don't..."

"Yes," he replies. He places you back in bed and tucks you in. Again, his hand went to your forehead. He holds a still face as he looks back at your personal bathroom you two share. "I reckon I'll hav' Les go t'town for fever meds an' oranges."

You giggle as you felt your brain melt fast. "You talk funny, Bo."

He doesn't smile or smirk like he normally does. He leans down and kisses your head. "Sleep, honeydew, 'n I'll be back."

*****************

By the time you wake up again, it's in the afternoon and you smell soup. Bo came up the steps with a bowl of soup and a glass of orange juice. It's hard fro you to keep your eyes open, but he caught you in time.

He placed the food and glass down and takes out a bottle of medicine from his pants pocket. "Keep yer eyes open, love," he says, his voice softer than normal. "Ya need to eat an' move around some."

He sits on the side of the bed and helps you sit up. Your bones ache and grind together, and you sigh in relief as soon as your back is against the bed frame. You felt his hand against your forehead and he shakes his head, sighing disappointingly. His hand moves and brushes your back.

"Can you feed yourself?" He asked, his voice teetering on annoyance.

"Yes" you lied, your voice close to a whisper. It's getting harder to keep your eyes open. You hate that you're stuck here. Hate that you're weak in front of him. Your hand grips the spoon but your fingers can't move it. You try again but it doesn't work.

Bo's calloused hand pushes your hand away gently and takes the bowl. He scouts closer... then a spoon comes up. "Open an' blow, darlin'," he warns at the end. "Hot." You do as your told and you allow him to feed you. "There ya go, y/n. Goin' so good," he praises lightly, his voice heavy in his southern drawl. "Doin' real good now. After 'is, o.j. an' medicine."

You blushed at his words and looked away. "You think I'm good?" You asked bashfully.

"T'best, darlin'," he reassured, flashing you a charming smile. "Doin' real good." He put the soup down and held the glass to your lips. "Slow sips." He tilts the glass as you do what you're told as you drunk slow and steady. You motioned your hand to him to show you're done and he sets the barely half glass down. "Almost done. Look at ya," his hand rubs your knee, "ya such a star."

"A star?"

"A star," he gives you a smile.

He gives you your medicine and lays you back down.

As he leaves, he stops at the door and looks back at you. His heart falls a bit when he sees you breathing slowly, too slow for his liking.

He leaves for what felt like minutes and he's right back in your room. He takes off his work clothing and keeps his black boxers and white tank-top on. Bo comes on the other side of the bed and pulls you close. You rest on his shoulder and he brushes your hair.

"Yer sick," he whispers. "Fever ain't breakin', sweatin' lik' a sinner in church, sleepy and in need of help." His voice echoes in his chest, making you feel like you hear him in a cave. "Closed the shop, finished t'kill, Vincent's got a new project... hav'ta be a hen over a sick little chick." Bo's hand racks through your hair as you started to feel sleep take you again. "Sleep, y/n. There'll be monsters to fight t'morrow."

"You're not a monster," you hummed. Lazily, you lifted your hand and caress his check. "You're not a monster."

He lifts a brow and looks at you. He doesn't stop rubbing your back. "What am I then?" He asked curiously.

You snuggle up against his side and flutter your eyes close. You feel as safe and snuggled against him, his warmth lulling you to sleep. "A helper," you babble sleepily. "Best... helper..."

As you sleep, he kept an eye on you as a smile crept over his lips. He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. "Sleep well, birdie," he whispers against your skin. "Sleep well. Dream of a better place than here."

Bo pulls you a little closer and kisses your forehead and ends up sleeping with you in his grasp.

#bo sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #house of wax fanfiction #house of wax (2005)#bo sinclair x reader #house of wax fanfic #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair fanfic #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair headcanons #bo sinclair house of wax #slasher fanfic #slasher fic #slasher fanfiction #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #cliff answers

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viaoverthemoon · 1 year ago

Text

Sample

Cat!Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Here's a little drabble I wrote a while ago while I finish these requests!

Cw: Yes. Leon is a cat, sexual themes but readers gender is not identified, cat like tendencies

18+!! NSFW!! MDNI!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Enjoy! ｡.:*☆

｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆

SFW

☆Cat Leon who, immediately after he gets home from a mission, will nuzzle into your side and will not leave for hours. You'll stroke behind his ears and he'll let out the deepest rumbly purrs that warm your heart.

☆When you ask if he wants to go somewhere with you or do something that would mean the two of you can just spend time together, he'll agree without hesitation and rub himself all over you to show how excited he is.

☆Leon will definitely unknowingly leave random food at your door. You'll wake up, thinking today will be a normal day, only for you to step on a random slice of bread the moment you leave your room. The funny thing is that he doesn't even realize he does this. He'll just be on the phone or doing something random, when, without even noticing, he'll pick up some small food and walk all the way to the bedroom door, dropping it on the floor and walking away.

☆When you both are lying in bed listening to the radio, he kneads his knuckles gently into your shirt.

☆If someone Leon has never met before comes to your house, he won't say anything, but his tail will be whipping fast in the air and his ears will be nearly flatly pressed to his skull.

NSFW

☆You make him wait to touch you <3 He begs to finally be allowed a taste. A touch. Anything. He'll follow you around, making desperate and needy whines all around the house. He clings to your presence, trying to at least hold you, but you forbid that too, causing him to release another onset of heart-broken whimpers.

☆When you finally allow him to touch you, he pounces on you. He worships you, kissing every inch of your skin while desperately rutting his hips into the air.

☆He loves when you run your hands along his stomach. Do this and he'll release the most feral groans, back arching into your touch.

"I need it so bad- Oh god, please... I can't, I can't anymore-"

☆He'll try so hard to be good for you. He'll try so so hard to wait until you're thoroughly satisfied so he can have his way with you.

But you're so irresistible to him. One taste and he needs to be inside of you right now.

And when he can finally have his turn, he won't be able to stop.

☆He'll completely lose himself, accidentally ripping your pillows and bed sheets with his claws, leaving claw marks and teeth indents along your arms, chest, and neck. Your headboard barely survives, scratch markings and dents all over it and dents in the wall behind it.

☆And afterwards, he's the only one with energy. He makes sure to take care of you, wiping you clean before laying you down to sleep.

☆And of course, he'll rub himself all over you again to make sure you stay marked as his <3

｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆｡.:*☆

Hope y'all enjoyed!! I'm getting these requests done, I swear!

(The words of a procrastinator)

Requests are open! ｡.:*☆

#viaoverthemoon #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #re4 leon #re4 #smut #resident evil leon #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n

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whumble-beeee · 1 month ago

Note

i think you should post the high stan thinh

tbf i am also currently.omw to drumk

yoy should post it tho

🌿🚫 anon

Yeah this is the right vibe I'll post the drabble here, sure

Man This Edible Ain't Shiiiiiiii~~ (*enters warp space*)

(Aka the thing I wrote while extemely high from the perspective of a character who was drugged and kidnapped. Completely uneddited. Enjoy.)

(Un)Official Guide Masterlist

Content: mentions of kidnapping/violence, noncon drugging, extremely jarring tense changes and POV shifts, y'all this is terrible lmao

(This would take place during chapters 16 and 17... with any luck I'll be posting 17 tomorrow <3)

* * * * * * * *

Deafening roar in the ears. All encompassing. Almost as they they were cotton. Pressure. Pressure everywhere, pressure in the jaw, slow motion, pressure pressing in on all sides, you're not even sure if it's good or bad, but. Can't remember. Spacing out. Coming in. Scared you fainted? You're sitting just as normal. When did you eyes close?

You don't know.

Time lost.

When did that last song end?

Everything is so slow but it's disappearing so fast. Eyes heavy. Someone laughing. Augh. Losing time. Can't focus. He should run. He should escape. He want out. Can't get out. Help.

Home home home home home home home home home. Home home home home.

Woah. Excessive. Body feel numb body full. Dark dark dark. Not bad though. Not good? Who can even know anymore?

Like floating. Except you can feel so heavy and painful the way your body contacts the real world. Hallucinating? Synth music? Doesn't hurt though. At least. Can't really move though. He can make the conscious thought to move, but then it just disappeared. As if he passed out. Is that what immediate memory gaps feel like? He can't remember.

He does want food though. He'd heard of munchies when you're high, and that mixed with the hunger he'd felt after not eating for two days straight created a different sort of terrifying monster.

Can't pay attention. Losing to the sands of time. Eyelids heavy. Ungrounded

Just sleep. Blackout. Eepy. Go sleep. Easier. Easier. Easier. Easier. Easier. Easier.

Want away. Want sleep. Conversation? Woah. Should lie down. But he I can't. Strapped in. Scared. He will hurt me don't do it he will hurt me.

Sludge. Pressure. Pressure. Pressing in. Relax. It'll be okay. Help help help. Help help help help help help help let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Just open the door just do it Holy shit get me out if here Holy shit Holy SHIT augh throat weird drugged drugged drugged.

* * * * * * * *

(So yeah that's what's happening in Stan's head while Declan is off threatening cops and almost getting hit by cars lmao. And yep that's the end. Except for Stan it's just going on forever and always. Poor buddy.)

#I wrote all of this while laying in my friends bed #and another on of my aquaintances was actually spiralling on the floor talking about what hes doing with his life #i thought he was reciting a soliloque at first lmao #good times good times #(un)official guide #whump #whump writing #oc stan #also i didnt even read the entire thing through once lol #i skimmed it to make sure there wasnt anything absolutely vile #cringed so hard i almost collapsed in on myself #then hit post baybeeeeee #WOOOOOOO #irl drug use #drug use #noncon drugging #🌿🚫 anon #hope its okay i used your ask for this love

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scribblestatic · 4 months ago

Text

Ding Ding Ding new COTL sads for the masses

I've been up all night with a migraine so it's time to make it y'all's problem by writing some angst I thought up.

I call this shit the Forsaken AU, because why not.

I may go into summary-drabble partway through this, but I'll probably fix it up or something when my brain stops trying to kill me via headache.

(Note: I wrote this stuff several hours ago. Finally went to sleep, so now I am Rested. Also, omg hit tweet. I'm glad y'all like the soft fluff! It's very good and I'm glad I thought of it and shared it so we could gush over the idea as a collective!

Time to show you sadness now uwu)

Warning for canon-typical violence.

-- -- --

The Lamb has done their duty. They have gathered an entire flock of followers, just for The One Who Waits. 30 souls—some found and indoctrinated, some born into the cult—all caged and waiting as the Lamb stands before their god. The One Who Waits grins down at their most successful vessel, freedom on the tip of his tongue.

And the Lamb, ever devoted, goes down on their knees without hesitation.

They take the crown off their head and look down at it solemnly. Of course the little one has grown attached to the power, Narinder thinks. He wonders, briefly, if he will have to wrestle the crown that is rightfully his back from the creature he only temporarily loaned it to.

But no.

After a few brief tears, and even thanks to the crown, the lamb lifts their hooved hands to their god, willingly relinquishing the crown's power back to its owner. Narinder can't help but smile. Now, the most successful vessel has become the nearly perfect one.

Narinder lifts the crown back onto his own head and feels its energy flow into his body. The already rotted chains fall away with a clattering shatter, and the cuffs that rubbed his skin raw fall to the ground with loud clunks.

The One Who Waits feels it all: the devotion, the power, the energy that flows through him once again. It has been so long since he felt so powerful. And now, without his wretched siblings in the way, he can truly enjoy the full extent of his godhood.

Yet, at the same time, he feels resentment.

Anger.

Because, for as much as the Lamb preached to the cult about his righteousness, about his return, the devotion he feels comes attached to the Lamb. The Lamb slayed not a single follower they indoctrinated. When food became scarce, they granted all the ability to enjoy the grass like they could—not that they needed to eat any longer anyway. Instead of fasting, they called for feasting. Instead of taking gold, they had rituals in which they gave it freely.

Even if it ran the Lamb ragged to provide everything the followers desired, they did so with the smile of a fool on their face. They decorated the crypts and mausoleums with camellias and candles, curtains and statues. They allowed their followers to indulge in drink and sex, spending time raising their offspring while the parents themselves worked to provide for the cult.

It was all soft. All unrestrained kindness. All sugar on which the followers glutted themselves until their teeth rotted. And now, the cult worships death with a face of fleece, not fur.

Moreover, his siblings. Not that he ever wanted even the slightest bit of mercy for those treacherous heathens. The Lamb slayed them in his name, and they got exactly what they deserved.

But Narinder could not slay them himself. He couldn't be the one to truly rend their hearts from their flesh. Although he was the one to land the first blows on them, he was not the one to land the last. And that bothers him immensely.

These two sins the Lamb has committed against him. And for these two sins, Narinder shall use them as an example.

The Lamb floats into the air with Narinder's restored power. They have their hooves laced, palms touching in what Narinder can now hear and see as prayer. Hopeful, tearful eyes gaze up at him, much like they had each time the Lamb died and each time they went back to continue their crusade.

Having seen each other so often, the Lamb must notice something in his expression. Their gaze shifts from hope to wariness, glancing between his three eyes.

A wide smile spreads on Narinder's face.

"You've done me a great service. You've fulfilled the prophecy that has called for my return. For that, one could praise you for doing as expected..."

His hand curve, squeezing on air as the Lamb's limbs begin pushing in closer under the pressure. They look around worriedly, like they can't understand.

"...But. You coveted what was not yours, little lamb. I saw what was in your heart, in your mind. You wished for more than you were to be given. You wanted not your due position, but to take my own."

The Lamb quickly gazes at him, eyes wide with shock. They try to speak, but their voice cuts off with a gurgle. Narinder doesn't want to hear anything the Lamb has to say. He knows what was true and what isn't. Tears build up in the Lamb's eyes once more as their head slides to the side just slightly, enough loosening to prevent them from speaking.

"For that, my sacrifice, you must suffer."

And suffer, he makes sure.

The Lamb's mouth opens in a silent scream, unable to bleat, as their arms and legs begin twisting, snapping, as Narinder pleases. He revels in the horrified gasps and cries from the caged followers as they watch the lamb's body contort and break, red blood falling from their body and onto the pale ground below. They choke deeper as their head slips further, tears turning pink with blood.

And, with a final crack, a final squelch, Narinder drops the Lamb's body in a wretched heap. Their head, once loosely attached to their neck, rolls away, stopping on its side.

Narinder takes a moment to stand there, looking down at the result of his anger. And oh, it was such a small bit of reprieve, but it would have to do. Once he was back out in the world, he could do so much more.

He steps forward then, raised to his full height, and he walks over the lamb's body.

"You all have faithfully worshiped Death. I am Death. If you remain faithful to me and not the false prophet which brought you here, I can assure you—thou shalt live under my protection. What say you?"

He gazes to the left, then to the right, quietly waiting.

Eventually, one of the followers, a fox, shakily bends down onto their knees and bows to him. He wears more ornate clothing than some of the others, so he is clearly an important figure. With the fox's supplication, the others stiltedly follow, until all 30 of the followers bow before him.

He feels the devotion to the crown shift, becoming thicker and rugged. Rough, indeed, but it is devotion to him, and not to the fuzzy usurper broken below him.

With a smile, he snaps his fingers, releasing them from their cages. They disappear from Limbo, the cage that held him for hundreds of years. Now, the only thing that will be left would be the corpse of a traitorous martyr.

Aym and Baal stand in awe of him, finally witnessing the true extent of his powers after having grown at his side for so long. As they follow him out of the place they too had known for so long, they do not spare a second glance at the ruined corpse. Eager to stretch their legs, they leave the space together, where only a pathetic lamb's body remains.

And that was exactly how Narinder intended it to be from the very start.

--- ---

The world outside was...incredibly vibrant.

Although Narinder had seen it all through the crown, it was quite different experiencing it. The grass felt strange against his fur, arms once again covered under flesh, though the markings from the cuffs would perhaps forever scar him. The stars twinkle brightly at night, creating kaleidoscope colors across the sky. Sand feels terrible between his toes, but he would stand in it for hours if it meant catching the delicious fish that hid within the depths of the salty water near it.

Nature was all-encompassing. Full of life that he could, in theory, make eternal. But everything was so teeming with it, at times, it could become overwhelming.

It didn't help that, despite having his grandiose form, he changed into something smaller—still larger than his closest disciples, but certainly not as towering as he was just a bit before. He temporarily feared that the crown was not in its best shape, his powers altered irrevocably by whatever strangeness the Lamb polluted it with. However, he could still feel the devotion from his followers, shaken, but constant.

The Lamb had, indeed, prepared the "flock" for their death. They made it clear that they were to die for the sake of Death's resurgence to the mortal realm. Perhaps he could've toned down the Lamb's punishment if they were all so attached to them...hah.

Not at all. The Lamb was treacherous and deserved what they received in return. It just startled the congregation, that was all, and their wavering and fear caused him to perhaps unconsciously attempt to assuage their worries. After all, their lives were his do do with as he pleased, but he knew that there was meaning and purpose in having a cult. Their belief and dedication to him was his power. So, he needed to cement it.

Narinder spent the next few hundred years doing just that—undoing all the hogwash nonsense that the Lamb instilled into them and replacing it with what he knew was right.

And goodness, wasn't that an entire chore? You change the rituals around a little bit, and despite being their god, they have it up in their heads to dissent! Oh boy, do they love to dissent! Over the smallest things, even!

You don't go get some measly flowers from the Darkwood for some rabbit to decorate her hut in remembrance of some sibling of hers? Suddenly, she's whispering about how he's the false god and the Lamb had been fooled!

You change the feasting ritual to fasting, and the next thing you know, seven followers are destroying buildings around the cult and cursing your name as though you couldn't kill them! And him forbid you actually do, then the entire cult has the audacity to threaten to disperse!

And they can't seem to do a damn thing for themselves either.

"My Lord, the stone mine has run out of stone. What else should I do for you?"

Find another mine. Shouldn't that be obvious?

"My Lord, we did not put any more fertilizer on the plants because we did not find any."

Then make fertilizer, fool.

"My Lord, I would like to eat a bowl of poop. Would you make it for me?"

Wh... Do I look like a personal chef to you?! And what the hell is wrong with you? Why would you even ask for that?!

Even after decades of teaching them the new rituals and practices around the cult, their demands were never-ending. They never understood that he was their god, and their lives were his to do with as he wished...

...At the same time, he would not have the same power he does without them.

Their belief and devotion fed his energy and ensured it never ran dry. Such was the curse of a god's existence—they were nothing powerful without their followers.

The previous 30 had since lowered over the years, dropping to a more reasonable 14. All were descendants of the Lamb's "flock," save for one that Narinder saw fit to resurrect as he pleased and needed.

The fox, Maon, who had bowed to him first upon his release.

Narinder had laughed about it many, many years back. To think! The first to bow to his power was the Lamb's husband of all things! He watched his spouse die in terrible fashion, and immediately bowed to the one who did it! Hilarious!

Narinder had praised him upon finding out, saying that he really was as wise and crafty as his species were known to be.

From the broken look on the fox's face, he hadn't taken his words as a compliment, but thanked his god for them all the same.

Through ups and downs, Maon served him well. Although not to the same level as his enforcers, Aym and Baal, he was efficient at his job, helping maintain order in the cult. The first generation, the one who knew the Lamb, called him a traitor, which carried over into the second generation as well. By the sixth generation, he was merely one who witnessed the great sacrifice that led to Death's release.

Maon's emotional state also shifted with time. He grew apathetic toward mentions of the Lamb and no longer seemed bothered when Narinder ribbed him about betraying the one he married. Eventually, he also took off the ring the Lamb gave him, his hands now bare.

He once considered that Maon would attempt to betray him, especially when three of the followers went missing under his watchful eye. But it came to nothing in the end, and the loyalty and devotion he felt coming from Maon was trumped only by Aym and Baal.

Old fox as he was now, he wore pale robes, living his remaining years until his next resurrection. That was, if Narinder decided it would be worth doing so.

While the fox helped keep things in order, the blood of the cult was growing stagnant. He did not rely on incestuous practices to keep a steady flow of new followers, but one could only pair the increasingly smaller amount of them so many times before you risk disease. Several of the remaining 14, save for Maon, were siblings or cousins. In some cases, Maon was somewhere in their bloodline.

Though he was loathe to admit it, traveling to the old lands of his "dearly" departed siblings would likely be necessary to spark new, positive change in the cult. However, going to the lands of the Old Faith would likely trigger an encounter with that loathsome seller.

After he had calmed his cult and reinstated his position of power, he had tried going to the old lands to acquire more resources, only for the Mystic Seller to appear before him. Back then, it spoke in that strange language he could not decipher before referring to him.

"I seek the god restored to his throne, the final of the five, forsaker of his chosen vessel. Confer with me."

Narinder growled at the titles forced upon him, but became even more enraged when the stranger had the audacity to demand he release his siblings from their torment. He knew very well that the Lamb did not have the full authority of the God of Death when they slayed them. No, that was Narinder's domain. And he refused to let their souls rest, forcing them to stay in a limbo so similar to the one they forced him into.

Release them? Absolutely not! They would suffer the consequences of their actions until he saw fit!

So, he sent his followers out to gather what the cult needed, with them returning with varying success. Food? Fine. Supplies, Occasionally successful. Yet, for some reason, even when he sent one of his most faithful as a missionary to any of his siblings' lands, they failed to return alive, if at all.

It had to be done by himself. It would be necessary for him to go to the land of the Old Faith and find new followers to indoctrinate. He would, at most, allow their numbers to swell to 20, but no more than that. Having made his decision, he left Aym and Baal to watch over the cult as he went to enter its gates.

For some reason, they gates to their realms were closed, unlike before. He began to read the inscriptions etched into them as he felt a shift in the energy near him.

As expected, the Mystic Seller appeared, eyes narrowed at him.

"We meet again, God of Death. How do you fare, neglecting your duties?"

Narinder sneered at the merchant. "I've neglected nothing of import. Their continued existence just happens to be a minor inconvenience. I've seen fit to relieve them of it."

"Is that so?" The Mystic Seller seemed strangely blasé despite how insistent it had been decades before. "You still think yourself of such importance despite your artless negligence. All you desire is to maintain your small circle of influence."

"Death's influence is not small," Narinder hissed, transcribing the text in the door and not liking what he was reading. "Perhaps you've forgotten that, lifeless as you are."

"Death's influence includes rest, which you have denied them. But in your absence, it only makes sense for someone else to fill the void."

The God of Death paused, then turned toward it.

"What do you mean by that? I am the one and only Ruler of the Red Crown."

The seller floated behind him, almost seeming to pace.

"I have dealt with Gods, and often pondered; does the Bearer wear the Crown, or the Crown the Bearer? In these last centuries, witnessing the wavering flow of the ether of this realm, I believe a conclusion has revealed itself. Its answer was novel."

"You speak without saying anything. Leave me be."

"...A fool once sought knowledge, and knowledge he obtained. Now the knowing one returns to foolishness willingly. But tell this merchant—was it not his pursuit of wisdom that made him so dangerous?"

Irritated by its continued bothering, Narinder whipped around, prepared to tell the Mystic Seller to leave again. However, it had already left, the cavern behind him empty save for the elements of the entrance. The statue of the red crown glowed with an eerie, never-ending light.

"...Hmmh."

Whatever. He would figure things out himself.

But first, he had to go back to the cult and find a suitable sacrifice. The door to Darkwood would not open without one.

#static writes #cotl au #cotl #forsaken au #au post 1

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mooodyblue · 2 years ago

Text

when you love someone | late 60s!elvis x gn!reader

summary: you had a hard week and all elvis wants to do is make you feel better

wc: 1.7k

warnings: depression, mentions of anxiety, set after filming live a little love a little, gender neutral reader, written with my love and tears

note: 2 fics in one week ?? that's so crazy. i wrote this to comfort myself so i hope it's comforting to some of y'all too. somewhat inspired by this song. send in requests yall!! as always, may contain inaccuracies and mistakes. enjoy.

masterlist | send a request or say hi :)

you and elvis had been dating for a couple years now, meeting him on the set of one of his movies as an assistant. it was going well and you were happy to be able to travel with elvis whenever he was off filming. until word got out about your relationship and the colonel forbid you from stepping foot on set during this recent movie. not only would you be unable to see elvis for a long period of time, but you'd just lost your job as well. times like these made you grateful to have elvis around since he had offered to help you with rent until he could move you into graceland.

however, being home all alone was taking a toll on you. elvis was to return soon and you were a mess. you hadn't called him nor returned any of his phone calls in a week, dishes were piling up, and god knows when you last showered. you didn't even know what day it was. you'd been glued to your couch for the past week, refusing to get up for anything. elvis was probably worried about you but whatever. he's better off without you anyway, right?

you were on your fourth nap of the day, falling asleep to the sound of a random show on tv and drowning out the sounds of the telephone in the distance every hour or so. you didn't even realize elvis had shown up to your house.

he was grateful you had given him an extra key before he left since you didn't bother going to the door. the sight broke his heart. he first noticed the pile of mail he accidentally stepped on when he first walked in, picking it all up and bringing it to the living room where he saw you asleep peacefully, dirty dishes spread around the coffee table. it wasn't any better when he stepped foot in the kitchen, looking at a sink full of various pots and pans coated with dinner that must have been made three or four days ago. it was no wonder you hadn't returned his calls. he was worried sick about you. even being in your house, he was still worried, unsure of how you'd react to him being at your house when you woke up.

any other man would grab their things and leave, completely ignoring the state of a house this messy. but elvis wasn't any other man, he was your boyfriend and he adored you. it upset him terribly knowing you must of been feeling bad recently for your house, which was once kept so pristine, to end up in such a mess. the fact you'd have to clean this all up one day must have been adding on to your stress as well and he wasn't going to have that. time to get to work.

starting with the living room, he quietly began bringing dishes to the kitchen, washing, drying them and setting them back where they belong. he didn't forget the pots and pans either, scrubbing away for what felt like ages and laying them out to dry. he swept and wiped down the counters for you as well along with discarding any empty food packages you'd thrown around and hadn't bothered to pick up. you were still sound asleep by the time he finished cleaning the kitchen and living room so he went ahead and did your laundry too, not forgetting to fold and put away your clothes in the way you liked them organized.

he hated waking you up for anything, but it was getting late and he knew you'd regret napping like this so close to your usual bedtime. he kneeled down to the couch, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "hon?" he said, shaking you softly from your sleep.

you opened your eyes to a concerned elvis, looking at you with sad, tired eyes. you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, your brain finally registering that your boyfriend was in your own home after being away for a month. "elvis?"

he flashed a smile at you. "hi baby, what's goin' on?"

you sat up slowly, patting down your unbrushed bed hair. you looked around, noticing the lack of dishes and the new cleanliness of your home. "what-elvis. please tell me you-"

"don't worry about it, it's the least i can do." he sat on the edge, leaning in to give you a much-needed kiss until you backed away from him, covering yourself. "don't. you shouldn't see me like this. i thought i had another week."

he frowned. "oh baby, you're still beautiful." he kissed you anyway, placing a hand on the side of your cheek. "i came home early cause you wouldn't answer my calls, i was worried sick, darlin'"

you turned away from him, avoiding eye contact, embarrassed. here he was, the most handsome man to ever exist on this earth was in front of you while you sat there with your unbrushed hair and clothes from a week ago. "i'm sorry."

he turned your face back towards him. "none of that, no apologizin'" he stood up and held out his hand. "lets go run you a bath, sound good?"

you took his hand as he took you to the bathroom, passing the kitchen and finding yourself feeling guilty for letting elvis do all of this for you, especially for letting him see you like this. he drew you a warm bath, helping you undress and helping you in as he sat on the edge of the tub, washing away a weeks worth of dirt from your hair and body. he was gentle with you. massaging your scalp with your favorite strawberry shampoo and rinsing it out carefully. you noticed the bathroom was cleaned too. there was that feeling of guilt again. you couldn't even look elvis in the eye, not even while he was humming one of the songs he used in a recent film as he conditioned your hair.

"which one was that?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"what? the conditioner? it's the strawberry one, did i use-"

you rolled your eyes playfully. "no, the song."

his lips perked up, chuckling softly. "i didn't even realize i was hummin'" he shook his head, moving onto rinsing your hair out again. "almost in love."

"excited to hear it." you murmured, running your hands through the soapy bath water.

"you'll like it." he reached for the towel behind him, drying your hair thoroughly. "at least i hope you do." he joked.

your face scrunched up as he went a little too rough drying your hair, mumbling a quiet 'sorry'. "why wouldn't i? i love everything you release."

he unplugged the drain and helped you out of the tub, handing you a towel for you to dry the rest of your body off as he fetched you some clean clothes. "is that right? don't lie now."

you dried yourself off, "yeah elvis, i hate everything you release." you said sarcastically as you put on your clothes. you tried to ignore how he also did your laundry for you, shaking off the guilt.

"there we go, that's what i like to hear." he joked. he picked up your brush and placed both hands on your face, giving you a quick kiss. "you're awful." you said. he grinned at you, tapping your nose with his finger. "aren't i just the worst?" he took your hand again, pulling you to your bedroom. he sat you on the edge of the bed as he got behind you, brushing away gently. you took a quick glance in the small mirror sitting on your dresser and watched as he brushed your hair. your eyes welled up with tears. you felt so undeserving of elvis and his kindness. the guilt was starting to eat away at you. there weren't enough words to describe how much you loved elvis and how well he treated you.

it wasn't long until elvis noticed your tears, setting the brush aside and turning you towards him. "oh no, baby. c'mere." he pulled you in a tight embrace, letting you cry into his shoulder as you held him tightly. "let it all out, i got you."

"i'm so sorry, you shouldn't have done any of this for me. i don't know what got into me, it's just been so hard." you said in between sobs. your anxiety finally caught up to you. losing your job and fearing you'd lose elvis too, you didn't know what you would do without him.

elvis rubbed your back up and down, letting you vent and cry. "i know hon, i know." he whispered. "'m here now. i'll take care of you." he had his own insecurities, often worrying about what fans think of his movies. how he was unhappy with how a lot of them turned out and how badly he wanted to move on from them. it was something he often spoke to you about. you were the one who made him not give up on his career, you gave him that boost he always needed. it was always you, now it was his turn for a change.

you apologized over and over again for making him take care of you. the tears just wouldn't stop. he released you from his embrace to crawl up to the headboard, you following shortly after. he pulled you in his lap as you rested your head on his chest, sniffling softly. "don't want to ever hear you apologize. none of this is your fault, you got that? i just wish you knew how much you mean to me." he said, running his fingers through your damp hair. "love you so much, little one. so damn much. wish i could take those nasty little thoughts from your head and deal with 'em myself."

"you don't wanna know what my thoughts are like, elvis. i wouldn't wish it on anyone." you mumbled.

he sighed. "i'm sorry you have to go through that, baby. you don't deserve that. at least i can make 'em go away for awhile." he wrapped an arm around you, holding you close.

"thank you for everything, really. i love you."

"love you too, little one. always will." he replied softly, going back to humming the same song from earlier as he rocked the two of you gently from side to side, leaving you in your own little world for a little while.

#my mental has been very very bad but i am so grateful i have elvis he does truly make me feel better lol #elvis x reader #elvis #elvis presley

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sidhelives · 7 months ago

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Y'all. I made the header in November and still never made the Tumblr post.

I'm telling you. 2023 was ROUGH.

Anyway

Once again, in October of 2023 the Fen'Harem Discord Server embarked on a group project of Kinky proportions. Kinktober is an annual tradition in this house, and I take it very seriously.

I wrote four kinky prompted fics for the celebration, all Dragon Age. Enjoy.

Public Sex

Delving the Deep Roads

Dragon Age - Anders/Jowan - Explicit - 2,398 words

Considering the expedition has a map, there's not much for two wardens to do, particularly when there's nowhere the two can be alone together.

Not that such things are always as hindering as one would expect.

Finger Sucking

Every Man to his Taste

Dragon Age - Zevran Arainai/Jowan - Mature - 1,206

Orzammar has a new king and the Wardens have his vow that the dwarves will help in the fight against the Blight. The time has come to celebrate the crowning of a new king, with food and drink and, for at least one apostate, the discovery of a new... interest.

Sex Pollen

Magical Mishap

Dragon Age - Jowan/Merrill - Explicit - 2,411

Merrill has been busy working on a complex spell, but Jowan trusts she knows what she's doing. What's the worst that could happen, anyway?

Somnophilia

Let Sleeping Hawkes Lie

Dragon Age - f!Hawke/Cullen Rutherford - Explicit - 1,334

Reader beware: this work deals with dubious consent

Hawke was out late drinking with the boys. Cullen was expecting a little midnight delight when she returned home, but she's out cold and he can't seem to wake her.

Surely she wouldn't mind...

To date, Magical Mishap remains the only Jowan/Merrill fic on AO3.

I'm very proud of being the first.

#dragon age #fanfiction #dragon age origins #dragon age 2 #lemon #dragon age fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #fen'harem #anders/jowan #anders x jowan #zevran/jowan #zevran x jowan #jowan/merrill #jowan x merrill #f!hawke/cullen #f!hawke x cullen #sidhelives #sidhe writes

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wilderavyn · 1 year ago

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Watch Love Class 2 Ep 9 & 10 Finale with me

Spoilers Ahead

Ep 9

0:39 Ok I would be pissed if my boyfriend woke me up in the middle of the night for nothing. Sleep is important y'all!

1:28 This is literally the worst time to tell him something but continue.

2:04 It seems that way because that's exactly what happened in your part of the story.

3:14 Putting those neglected child skills you mentioned last time to good use I see Hyun. 😂

3:42 And there we go! An finally initiated some affection. I am finally satisfied!

4:29 Cheeky boy Hyun! 😂

4:58 That was adorable. 🥺

5:50 Love how extra Maru is being about the food once he realized Minwoo made it. 😂 🥺

11:11 Good job saying no to being the third wheel their lady.

11:59 Manager person actually apologized to Minwoo? I'm impressed.

13:41 Damn he asks so directly.

14:39 This is ridiculous and such a misunderstanding.

16:21 Don't you feel stupid now.

17:29 Finally they're acting like real adults.

19:33 Love to see them kiss but their kisses look like they need cpr. 😂

Ep 10

This already looks like such a fun trip

2:24 I love this cheeky boy!

3:58 Love that Hyun is calling An high maintenance as if his needy ass isn't. 😂

5:33 Do all of you really need to go to the store together? The answer was yes apparently

9:05 Maru is so funny.

9:27 That's cute An! 🥺 What is this confession time for everyone?

16:15 What was that about not kissing where it's dark and deserted again? 🤨

20:52 Ok they followed through with their kissing photo for class idea. That was a nice way to end this show.

I'm giving this show a 9 overall. The storyline was very interesting even when it was frustrating. J-Min was definitely my favorite part of the show but that should surprise no one since I already loved him.😂His characters kisses with An left a little to be desired but they kind of wrote it into An's character that he wasn't that into it which was good writing I think and made sense for him. This show dealt with some heavy topics so I'm not likely to watch it a lot but I would definitely rewatch with a friend and will definitely recommend it to others. I also really enjoyed Minwoo and Maru. They were super cute. I could take or leave the third couple mainly because of how frustrating watching them get together was but they too were endearing by the end.

#bl drama #asianlgbtqdramas #korean bl #kbl #love class 2 #bae173 jmin #j min #jmin

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that-headcanon-girl · 2 years ago

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dating bucky barnes and sam wilson would include....

A/N: this is probably the longest headcanon I ever wrote lmao. anyways, enjoy!

first off, let me say, being in a relationship with them is always a rollercoaster.

whether it's going on a mission and not knowing if everyone of y'all is going to survive or shopping groceries with them and fighting over what you should eat for dinner

you love watching soap operas with them every night

and discussing the last episode you watched next morning at the breakfast table

"Why did Geraldine hook up with Paul though?"

"No, the real question is WHY would Paul do that to Emma?!"

you're invested

calling them "the boys" whenever you're talking about them to other people

"Yeah, the boys and I watched soap operas all night..."

"The boys forgot to buy potatoes again..."

them telling you to stop calling them that

when you ask why, they say they're your boyfriends and they want to be perceived as such and not just as some random boys in your life

So you start calling them "the boyfriends" and they love it

they're very protective of you

whenever you go on missions they always worry so much

they don't want you to get hurt

they would rather have you working a safer job, like idk teacher or something

but you argue with them that teachers are not that safe either bc of school shootings

and you're needed at your current job

when you do get hurt really badly one day they get very mad

all hell breaks loose

whoever did that is certainly gonna pay for it

After missions you usually go and get hotdogs

It's like a tradition almost

most of the time, you talk about how your little adventure went and discuss your every move, giving tips on how to do better next time

it really helps

but when y'all are not in the mood, you just sit there, eating quietly

It's really peaceful

when bucky has nightmares again and can't sleep you go for late night drives

one of you gets the fast food

the other one gets the music

and you drive around the city

you and bucky in the back seats, wrapped in blankets, looking out the mirror

and Sam in the driver's seat

after 30 minutes, bucky's usually asleep again

you and sam love to cook together

Sam learned it from his sister and you learned it from your momma

let's just say together you're a force to be reckoned with

You make the most delicious Christmas dinner and the most delicious creme brûlée and the most delicious pancakes

Bucky is so lucky to have you because that boy can't cook at all

he's always bragging to the other Avengers about the delicious food you make and how good you can cook

whenever you meet new people, you're usually inviting them over to your apartment and you and Sam cook

Bucky loves you and Sam very much

One time he overheard one of the avengers making a not so nice joke about the two of you and he was like

"Excuse me?! That's the loves of my life and my emotional support persons you're talking about"

He kicked their asses

Bucky is probably the most protective one

he's always scared he'll lose you and Sam

gets jealous pretty easily

he can be clingy, but that mostly happens at home

he's afraid to show his soft side outside of your apartment

he loves holding you

Mostly little spoon with Sam and big spoon with you

They love saying "that's my girl" or "atta girl" to you

especially when you're in the middle of a fight and you just killed that ugly alien or you saved Bucky from being kidnapped or you knocked that really tall and strong guy out

you pretend to find it annoying but you secretly love it

but since you're not an unattractive woman, "that's my girl" can quickly turn into "hey, that's my girl"

Of course Bucky and Sam hate that every damn guy in the world is drooling over you but I mean, what can ya do you're just that hot

sometimes they're like "wow you look stunning in that dress but let's just stay home because we want you only for ourselves"

But you ain't having it so you always end up going to that party

So, fights

fights can be really intense

especially with bucky

I mean, that dude is/was a frickin supersoldier

lots of shouting

It can get pretty ugly

and Bucky never hesitates to do his death stare

lots and lots of them trying to prove their masculinity to each other

bucky is a little drama queen so he's gonna be pouting for hours after a fight

It annoys Sam

Bucky shouting at you and Sam

and feeling like crap after doing so

He never means to lose his temper, he just can't help it

One time he threw a vase and one of the pieces gave you a big cut on your cheek

he hid in his room for several days because he wasn't able to face you

He felt so bad, he couldn't believe how he could ever hurt you, his princess, his angel

Everytime he sees the scar you still have on your cheek he wants to beat himself up

You try to reassure him of course, that you know he never meant to hurt you and that you know he loves you

and god forbid you cry during a fight

then it's done, it's over

they cannot stand to see you cry

especially because you don't cry a lot, so they know it's really bad when you do

same for bucky and Sam ofc

After a fight, y'all buy flowers for each other and it's all good

Y'all can never stay mad for too long

Y'all love each other too much

Okay, but teasing

So much teasing

It's not even sexual

just straight up making fun of each other

you love insulting each other, kind of roasting the other person

But no one

Literally no one, except you three,

is allowed to make fun of you

One time Tony made a bad joke about Sam (like not funny, if it's funny it's alright) and bucky and you went ballistic on him

Sam had to hold both of you back

They know now it's not good to mess with y'all

I swear to God, you have so many insiders

You can't count them on both hands

sometimes you're just sitting with the other Avengers and one of you'll say "do you remember that one time...?" and literally not say anything else and crack up laughing

the other Avengers are literally so annoyed with you three

especially Tony

like you're so annoying

1. because you're such a perfect couple

2. you constantly bicker

3. you're very sarcastic

probably the most sarcastic couple to exist on earth

sleeping together in one big bed

bucky : next to the door so he can kill everything that tries to walk in

you: in the middle

sam: next to the window because he gets hot pretty quickly

You don't use pet names like "sweetheart" or "darling" or "babe"

you think it's weird and it feels unnatural

either you call yourselves by your real names or "insult-names"

like "weirdo", "dipshit", "asshole", "stupid", "fool", "bonehead", "creep"

you don't use them as insults though, well, mostly

you call each other these names like everyday, you use them like pet names, always a smile on your faces when saying them

in conclusion, cutest throuple in the world

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kaseyskat · 3 years ago

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wrote this little wolf sasha au ficlet for @cutetanuki-chan's au as a bit of a warm up after not writing all weekend! it's such a cute au if y'all haven't seen it yet please go check it out <3 anyways i hope you guys enjoy!!!

“Sash, Sash! You’ll never guess what I found!”

Sasha grumpily opens one eye, lazily watching as Marcy comes charging back into the cave that they’ve been staying in for the past few days. She’s drenched from head to toe- the soft pitter-patter of rain outside explaining why. Why anyone would willingly leave shelter to be out in the cold rain, Sasha has no idea, but she’s never been able to follow her idiot human’s logic.

The rain certainly hasn’t done a thing to dampen Marcy’s mood, though, and she holds up her satchel proudly, as though Sasha could see through it like some kind of superhuman. “Look, look,” she pleads, and she kneels in front of where Sasha’s curled up, digging through the bag until she proudly produces a couple of rocks.

Sasha levels Marcy with her most unimpressed stare.

“I know they don’t look like much, but I’m pretty sure this one is chipped opal! Most opal is found below ground, but sometimes erosion exposes veins of it above ground, you know-” Marcy chatters, and she sits criss-cross on the ground now, her eyes sparkling in the dim torchlight. She’s shivering, though, and her clothes are still drenched, and Sasha huffs before she sits upright, nudging at Marcy’s shoulder.

“Huh?” Marcy blinks at Sasha curiously, and then shivers again. “Oh. Yeah, it wasn’t raining when I went out. I was trying to get us some food, but I… got distracted?”

Sasha huffs again. Over the years, she’s gotten better at non-verbally communicating with her human; they don’t need words to exchange thoughts, not anymore. All she has to do is nudge a bit more insistently at Marcy’s shoulder, and she caves, crawling to press her face into the fur of Sasha’s neck with a sigh.

“I know, I know,” she murmurs, fondly. “I’ll freeze to death if I don’t dry my clothes soon. These ones are all I have, though- I’ll just have to snuggle with you to warm up.” There’s a teasing note in her tone, even as Sasha whines at her.

You need to warm up but we still need to eat, Sasha thinks, pointedly. Still, there’s little she can do but allow Marcy to curl against her, wet clothes pressed against Sasha’s fur. She can hardly feel it - her coat is too thick - but it’s still nice to have the comfort of someone she cares about so close to her, where Sasha can keep a close eye on her and make sure nothing bad happens.

She doesn’t know when she got so protective of Marcy, only that anyone would have to go through her to get to the human, and it would not be a fun fight.

Sasha never does go back to sleep. Instead, she lazily keeps one eye open as she rests, watching the way Marcy shivers and coughs, even when her clothes dry. It’s worrying- Marcy’s never gotten sick before on their travels, and Sasha’s never experienced human illness enough to know what to do.

After a few hours, she carefully nudges Marcy awake with her nose. Marcy’s eyes open, and she squints at Sasha dazedly before breaking into another series of coughs. “G’morning, Sashy,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. “Maybe going into the rain was a bad idea, huh?”

You think? Sasha whines in frustration, and then she shifts, nudging Marcy against the wall of the cave before changing into her human form. It feels strange, being in human form in this cave, but her paws are too clumsy to properly make a fire, and she has a feeling that she’s going to need to go out, anyways.

“What am I going to do with you?” Sasha says, out loud, but she can’t actually find it within herself to be angry with Marcy.

Marcy smiles sheepishly, and she’s still shivering, so Sasha works a bit harder, collecting sticks and dry bush to pile in the middle of the cave before plopping herself down. Marcy was the one that taught her how to make a fire without supplies- she had explained the process so carefully, placing her hands over Sasha’s own to guide her, and Sasha doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the way it had felt in her mind, having someone so close to her. It helps, because now she can recall exactly which way to position her hands, and she fumbles with the sticks for only a few minutes before they start sparking and catch flame.

“You did it!” Marcy cheers from her position curled up against the wall of the cave, and she’s beaming so brightly despite how pale she is, the way she’s still shivering.

“Come here,” Sasha instructs, ignoring the way the praise has her cheeks heating up. It’s just the fire, she tells herself. “You need to warm up.”

“Yes ma’am,” Marcy nods, and she carefully scoots forwards until she’s sitting by the fire, eyes wide. “It’s so warm…”

“It’s supposed to be; it is a fire, you know,” Sasha snickers, ignoring the wounded look that Marcy shoots her. “You’ve never gotten sick before; what else do you need?”

“I’m not really that sick,” Marcy says, and then sneezes so violently she herself looks scandalized. Sasha, for the millionth time, shoots her a deadpan glare.

“Come here,” Sasha says, again. This time, it’s to drag Marcy into her lap; this way, Sasha can feel Marcy’s warmth against her again, and Marcy eagerly drops her head into Sasha’s lap, sighing as Sasha clumsily plays with her hair. “Maybe this will teach you not to go into the rain on your own. Dumbass.”

“It wasn’t even raining when I left!” Marcy protests, but she’s easily silenced by Sasha’s nails dragging against her scalp. “But okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

Sasha smiles, smug and proud. “Good. Now sleep. We can go hunting when you wake up and feel better. Maybe we can trade that… uh…”

“Opal,” Marcy suggests.

“Opal,” Sasha agrees, “for some of that fancy human shit you like so much.”

“You’ll accompany me into a village for it?” Marcy glances up from her position in Sasha’s lap, her eyes big and pleading and stupidly fond in a way that melts Sasha’s resolve every single time.

“Only if you start feeling better,” Sasha nods, and she pokes Marcy’s cheek hard before going back to stroking Marcy’s hair. “So feel better.”

Marcy giggles - though Sasha doesn’t know what’s so funny - and then she closes her eyes, curled into Sasha’s lap. Like this, Sasha can’t transform back, but she doesn’t mind so much, sitting in her human form with Marcy laying against her, sitting in front of a warm fire. It’s definitely not the life she imagined for herself as a kit, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

#kasey writes stuff #sasharcy #sasha waybright #marcy wu #wolf sasha au #ive been meaning to write smth for this one for FOREVER #this specific piece is real short and rambly though because ive been resting my wrist all weekend #but i hope you guys all like it :DD

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beeindaclouds · 3 years ago

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Hey bees! I wanted to ask if you could write fluff hc for Quackity, Eret, C!Philza, Wilbur, George, Dream, Sapnap, and Punz? I would love if it was about a GN!reader with insomnia and an iron deficiency! Have a great day!

Hallo! Thank you for the request :)

A few things before we start: I already did a Sapnap fluff hc, so he'll be out of this one; I only wrote platonically for C!Phil; and just as a reminder to everyone the reader is always GN! unless requested otherwise

Hope you enjoy <3

More fluff headcanons

Pairings: Quackity, Eret, C! Philza, Georgenotfound, Dream, Punz × Reader

❝ Quackity ❞

Let's start with his hair, because you are the only one who actually gets to touch it

Whenever it's late at night and you can't sleep he'll let you play with his hair as a distraction

He also loves it very much

This is 100% a headcanon, but he'd teach you to dance

Latin dances specifically

Even the easiest once, just so he can have this cute little moment with you

Sorry, I'm back to the hair topic, but he let's you make little braids in his hair

Of course nobody else gets to see it, it's just a thing between you two

He also loves to make up songs on the spot for things that you are doing

For example, he sees you cleaning and all of a sudden he's singing your every movement

And don't get me started on the car rides

He sometimes gets distracted because of you, he's gets so mesmerized by your looks

I think he's the type to hold your hand while driving and when there's a red light he'll ise the opportunity to bring your hand up to leave a kiss on your knuckles

❝ Eret ❞

Matching strawberry outfits.

You can decide which one, it can be the shirt or the black dress, just matching strawberry outfits.

Also matching crowns, cause you two are royalty

She's the type to measure her hands with yours and if they're tinier than hers she'll never let you forget

Also if you're shorter than her she'll tease you by putting her arm on your head, then sliding it to your back and pull you in a kiss

Very smooth and works everytime

Imagine you being her photographer for her recent Halloween costume

And you're just running around, taking pictures at all angles, while hyping her up

She'll get so shy and later hide her face into your neck

You two 100% did the cliche "dancing under the rain" thing, but instead of wearing casual outfits y'all were in crowns and capes

She picks you up bridal style

When you may ask?

Whenever she feels like it she'll just go "hah your mine now" and picks you up

❝ C!Philza ❞ [Platonic]

He'll bring you flying :D

Of course he first makes sure that you're secure and safe and then just zooms

He's the man that brings you breakfast in bed

No matter what your relationship is, he just likes to wake you up in a good mood

Hugs, lots of hugs

Even if you're not sad, sometimes we all just want to be held, he'll do it without a second thought

Whenever he goes on adventures he brings you a little souvenir

From foods to jewelry

If you can't sleep he'll make you a warm drink of your choice, tuck you in bed and tell you a story from his many adventures

I ran out of ideas for Phil T^T

❝ Wilbur Soot ❞

Coffee dates, where you two are sitting facing eachother and he is holding your hand over the table and drawing random shapes on it with his thumb

He's the type to always hug you from behind whenever you're doing something

He brings you food and drinks whenever you're working or studying or even just reading

The gentleman that will lend you his coat if you're cold and softly smile at you as you nuzzle in the warmth

Serenades you whenever he has the chance

Probably wrote so many songs about you, some that you don't even know exist

He secretly takes pictures of you just to use them as phone wallpapers

Makes playlists with songs that remind him of you and you do the same

Purposely lends you his sweaters so that he can see you drown in them and smell like him

He sometimes gets shy or doesn't know how to express himslef sp he'll elave you small notes with song lyrics or random poems he made to tell you what he feels

❝ Georgenotfound ❞

He loves to do little things for you

From filling your water bottle when you're busy to giving you random compliments out of the blue

Late night walks, just to spend time togheter. You two walk around, hand in hand, small chuckles and puffs of air coming from the both of you and quick but warm pecs being thrown here and there

For some reason I feel like he's the type of boyfriend to have some of your necessities on him at all times; like hair ties or your favourite candy, just in case you need them

If both of you can't sleep you just lay there in bed and talk about everything, about life

You two definitely have food fights. One second George is asking you to help with cooking the other he is throwing some of the ingredients at your face and it turns in a big mess

This is pretty out there, but he dries your hair for you. You just melt in his gentle touches and he sometimes steals kisses as a "gift"

You two also do that adorable thing where one of you will pull the hoodie strings of the other so that the hood closes in on their face and then pull them into a kiss

You both get blushy very easily, so it has become a challenge to see who can make the other blush more

A.N: these last two are going to be shorter because I'm very tired and I'm running out of ideas :')))

❝ Dream ❞

Cuddles while he works!

So you're basically sitting on his lap on your phone or something as he is editing or doing other work

Him sweet talking to you whenever he can

His voice just goes all deep and soft

Mostly happens in the morning or when he just feels like being all sweet and cheesy

I've said this so mamy times but he spoils you, so most of the time you two go shopping togheter

And you sometimes style eachother even if he does choose some... questionable things

I feel like he'll just randomly come up to you, hold your face, and pull you into a deep kiss

No reason, he just felt like giving you one

You two definitely have a lot of matching things because you're cute like that

❝ Punz ❞

I said this in my "Type of kises" scenario but palm kisses

I imagine you and him laying near eachother or you sitting in his lap and you take his face into your hands, softly caressing his cheeks.

He turns into the palm of your hand and leaves lingering kisses on them as his gaze never leaves yours

Whenever you two are spooning, and he's the big spoon, he kisses the back of your neck

If you're overworking yourself he'll put you over his shoulder and make you spend soem time with him so that you can take a pause

Feel like he loves chin/beard scratches, so whenever you do that his head leans more and more into your hand

Whem it gets cold, and you two are going out and holding hands, he'll pull both of your hands into his pocket so you can both stay warm

Also pulls you into his coat and hugs you for more warmth

When he gets all soft he'll leave multiple and continuous kisses on your cheeks as his hands gently hold your neck and shoulder so that you can't escape

#dreamsmp #dsmp #mcyt #dream smp x reader #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #quackity x reader #eret x reader #c philza #philza #georgenotfound x reader #dream x reader #punz x reader #beeblurbs #wilbur soot x reader

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natalie-the-writer · 2 years ago

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Hey y'all! So, I had this idea running around in my head for a long time. Well, the basis of it. I started talking with @0perfectimperfections0 and it became a whole lot more, though I've been keeping most details a secret....

This is the longest story I've ever wrote for this fandom and it's only part 1 of 2. It's just above 15,000 words, but please don't be scared by the number. It was neccessary. This is a human AU, not really connected to my other story 'Multiplication and An Idea,' but it's not needed to understand this. Just be aware he's friends with the other main characters of the movie after some emotional times (that aren't depicted in the other story). Other characters are from @0perfectimperfections0 story 'Backstitch.' Hope you enjoy!

Discovery - Part 1

'This is not how I wanted to spend my Friday night,' Lou thought, muffling his coughs with his sleeve as he pushed a box with his foot. More dust flew up and he blinked, letting out a little sneeze. The sixteen year old shook his head, dropping down to his knees and opening the box full of books. He was here because he'd been three minutes late home from "study group" with Nolan - it was really watching a movie on the couch after a hard day at school, Nolan's mother, Rachel, covering for him with his own strict mother. The clock in the living room had been slightly off. When he realized, he'd rushed home, struggling against the freshly falling snow and wind, but it hadn't been enough. His mother, Lillian Greyson, had been waiting at the door when he came in, a list of chores already in her hand. He wasn't to go to bed until he was done.

It was nearing midnight now, the single light bulb in the attic providing enough light for him to move around. After doing the dishes, vacuuming every room in the three story house, mopping the bathrooms, dusting the living room shelves, and folding a few loads of laundry, he was hungry and tired. He hadn't been allowed dinner. His mother went to bed hours ago. He would sneak down to the kitchen and get food if it weren't for the security cameras posted in most rooms of the house. Darian, the butler and one of three non blood parental figures, wasn't even there to sneak him food, off on a well deserved vacation with his wife and daughters.

Lou sighed, moving book after book to the nearby empty shelf. He was to unpack all the frogotten boxes in the attic and move the stuff to shelves or, if it was big enough, settle it neatly along the wall. He'd been there for thirty minutes and honestly, he was making good progress, but his empty stomach was twisting and his eyes were growing heavy. The previous night, he'd stayed awake studying for the two tests he had the next day (pre-calculus math and college biology), so he was already tired. He didn't let Nolan know though. The rare time he got to spend with one of his best friends should be spent awake.

After unloading another few boxes, he took a break by sitting against the wall, eyes shut as he breathed in dust-filled air. He reached up his chest and expanded the collar of his suit, struggling against the stiff fabric in the heat of the attic. It was freezing cold outside, a forming snow storm in mid November above New York, and he yearned to step out for a moment. But no. He had to finish this.

Lou rallied his strength and went to stand only for his leg to collapse underneath him. Yeah, he needed sleep. Rubbing at his eyes, he went to get up again. His toe met something hard. Perplexed, he looked down. A piece of board was sticking up an inch, dislodged by his foot. 'Huh.' A part of him worried he'd get in trouble for breaking the floor, but the other part of him urged Lou to move the board further. Maybe it was an act of rebellion or maybe, for a second, he wanted to feel like he was in a movie, searching for clues in the grooves of a broken house. There was nothing to find, but it was fun to follow his imagination. That was why he liked acting so much.

The board came up more. Barely three inches. He slipped his hand inside, feeling around. Nothing. Of course there was nothing. It was just his imagination-

His fingers met paper.

With his heart running a million miles an hour, he grabbed onto the object and gently tugged on it, lifting the board as far as he could. The paper came lose and he pulled his hand out, revealing a very thick envelope. He let the board drop, tilting the newfound object in the light. It was open with no postal stamp or address. Just a plain envelope on the outside, but inside... With hesitant fingers, he reached in, subconsciously listening for his mother to come up the stairs. Several smaller envelopes came out, all open and marked with an address for Chesapeake, Maryland. The papers were all yellowed, some frayer than others. Why would they have letters from Maryland? Why would they be hidden under a board?

Anxious and a little excited, he found the oldest looking letter and pulled out the page inside. Old notebook paper. He unfolded it, immediately noticing the date on the top.

March 16th, 2006. Over sixteen years ago. Roughly seven months before he was born. Very old.

His eyes scanned the contents. Certain words caught his eyes and sent his heart stopping. He backed up to the first word, reading more carefully.

'My dear Lily,

I hope my letter will find you in a good health, despite our circumstances. I don't understand what you've done or why you did it. I loved you so much, still do, but you won't answer my calls. You left me in the dead of night. My heart is broken. All I can hope for is a response. Please, my darling, come back and let's fix this. Whatever I've done, I can fix it. I've tolerated and gone through everything to keep you with me, fought for you, but you left me. Please, respond. At least let me know you are alright.....'

The letter went on with pleads and rambles to his mother. To Lou's mother. A man so desperately in love that Lou couldn't understand it. What did this guy see in his mother? She must not've been a vile woman her whole life to have a guy falling over her. To top it all off, it was signed with 'I sign this with all of my love.' No name.

Wait.

Sixteen years ago. Seven months before his birth. He would've... Lou would've been... His mother was pregnant with him by that point. Could this be... his father? The writings of a man long dead?

Lou had asked about his father a few times during his childhood. When he was younger than ten, she would brush him off and tell him to go somewhere else. When he did ask after Father's Day at ten years old, she told him that his father was a mean, selfish man who died not long after Lou was born. When he was twelve, she told him that his father wanted nothing to do with him, meaning she and Lou had her maiden last name. When he was fourteen, he got caught trying to find out his father's name on the internet and got yelled at for that. Grounded for two weeks. He never asked again, afraid of upsetting his mother further.

He'd always wanted to know a little more about his father. Even if he left them, he wanted to know why. Now the answers were in his hands and the man who once wrote those words didn't sound like a man who hated his mom.

Attic forgotten, he looked to the next letter in the stack. Slightly less weathered. Maybe they were in order. He did a quick count - eight letters. He unfolded for the next date. Only a month later.

'Dearest Lily,

I won't come looking for you if you don't want to be found. I won't come to you if you don't want me to. Your last letter was enough for me to know you were alive, but there's no explanation. Why did you leave? It may sound cliché, but my heart hurts to find you. To at least know why you left me. Things weren't good, but that didn't mean we couldn't work it out. Let me know what to do and I'll do it. I'd do anything to have you back.'

Again, there was no name. Just 'I sign this with all of my love.' He sounded love sick. How could he hate his mother? Her story was unraveling in front of him and a million questions moved through his brain. He carefully put the letter aside and grabbed the next one.

Just over a year later. Lou was about six months old. Not yet had the letters given an inkling of knowledge about his existence. The thought made a pit settle in Lou's stomach.

He read the next five letters quickly, sitting on his knees on the floor. It was mostly questions and proclamations of love over the next two years. Sometimes, there were mentions of sent money. He talked of his love for her mostly, but there were little details that Lou read three times, clinging to every little bit of information he could get about his father. He loved the beaches and lived right near Chesapeake Bay. He liked history and ran a doll business. He celebrated his thirty eighth birthday when Lou was two, making him fifty-two now. They were occasional comments and descriptions, like he didn't want to stray too far from talking about Lillian. The letters were only a paragraph or two, pouring out love. He mentioned once in a letter that he wasn't the best with talking about feelings. Lou could relate.

Lou was three on the second to last letter. He knew the end was coming. Knew his father died not long later, heartsick and desperate. He drew in a breath and with shaking hands, reached for the last letter. It was whiter than the others. Quite a bit lighter. He folded open the top and took out the paper, unfolding it. He took another breath before reading the date.

October 9th, 2017.

The air was knocked out of his lungs. He read it again, afraid it was a trick. Five years ago. Five years ago wasn't just after Lou was born. Five years ago he was eleven, learning piano. Holding his breath, his eyes moved down to the salutation.

'Hello Lillian.

I haven't mailed to you in a long time. I don't know if you have noticed or will even recieve this letter, but I want you to know something.

It wasn't until twelve years ago when I met my now wife Shannon that I realized how toxic our relationship was. I did everything in my power to please you and it still wasn't enough. You always wanted more. You were never satisfied with just having my love. I don't know what exactly made you run out that night, and I do hope you live alright now and have found your own true love, but I can't help but think it was destined to happen. If you hadn't left, I wouldn't have spent near four years in grief for our relationship. I thought you were the one I let slip away. I was mistaken. Now I am in a healthy, loving relationship and understand that we would've never worked properly.

I really hope you find fortune in your life as I have found fortune in mine because along with a wife, I gained a step son and two more daughters. I hope you have found your life's calling as you always hoped you would. As I always hoped for you. I hope you found love in the best of ways. I hope your life is fulfilled. This will be my last letter. I just felt I had to send my last regards to you and close the chapter of our time properly, even if it's only for myself.

Signed,

Henry Louis Everett.'

Henry Louis Everett. Louis. They shared the same name. Could he be named after him? Could this man be his father? His father, who, as of five years ago, was alive?

Lou's heart thundered as he held the letter to his chest, carefully hugging it. He could have a step mom. Three siblings. He might have family other than his mother and friends. On shaky legs, he got to his feet, folding the letters into his suit pocket and pressing the board back in place. A quick glance at the clock proved it was nearing 12:30 in the morning. He still had a few more boxes to go and if he was caught leaving without being finished, he would be metaphorically killed and literally grounded. With more speed and accuracy than his tired body should've been able to manage, he unloaded every box, mind swirling with so many thoughts that the task was forgotten. His father was alive.

After one in the morning, he turned off the light and crept his way down the steps to his room, already devising a plan in his head. There was no way he could wait for the perfect moment. It was the weekend, no school to miss, and he had to meet this man, one way or another. Even if he was grounded for a year, he had to do this. The teen pulled out his phone that was, by some miracle, not confiscated like he thought it would be when he was caught. He couldn't take it with him, not with the tracker on it, but he could anonymously look up a bus schedule that could get him to Chesapeake.

There was a bus at six thirty in the morning not far from where he was. The alarms that went off if he went outside during the night cut off at six because he had to get to the early morning study group at school. They did the same on weekends because who in the world left a six for no reason.

Lou had a reason.

He dug into the back of his closet. Concealed behind some boxes of old textbooks was a hoodie he once managed to sneak in. It was dark blue and well worn, a gift from his butler friend, and would serve well in his risky adventure. He grabbed his school bag, chucked out the contents, and put the folded hoodie in it. He followed it with a roll of money he had been able to save over the years. Six hundred dollars should be able to get him there and back with food. He threw in an extra pair of shoes, a set of gloves, and a scarf, then stuffed the whole thing under his bed. With the cameras, getting snacks was a no go. They'd let his mother know he was sneaking, possibly waking her up with their notifs. He couldn't risk it. He would also have to go out through his window because the camera above his room wasn't working, meaning he could get out without triggering alarms as long as he was careful.

He also couldn't risk taking his phone. With the tracker on it, he'd be found quickly. He had to leave it.

"That's a problem for the morning." He muttered, setting a near silent alarm for 5:55 in the morning. He'd get roughly four hours of sleep. It would have to do. He crawled into bed, tucking himself under the blankets and staring out the window, thoughts a jumbled mess as he slipped toward a restless sleep. Was he really doing this? The ultimate act of rebellion?

The real question was how he couldn't do it. How could he ignore that his real father may be out there? If he slipped up and his mother found out his plan or that he found the letters, he'd be locked up in the house more than before. He couldn't have that. He couldn't do it. He needed to find his father. See if he might actually want him. Somehow.

Lou fell asleep and dreamed in fragments, jumping from friends to his mother to what his father could look like.

_________________

The alarm went off far too soon, but Lou pulled himself out of bed, quickly silencing it. He listened a minute. No footsteps seeing what he was up to this early in the morning. Good. His mother didn't typically get up until ten or eleven, sometimes noon, giving him time to get well on his way. He slipped the hoodie on over his rumpled suit, tugged on his shoes, and slung what was left of the bag over his shoulder. Now or never.

He texted his friends in the group chat: Don't worry about me.

It was vague, but it would have to do. They would worry anyway. He turned it off completely and hid it under the bed mattress, then climbed on top of said mattress to the window over his bed. With silent movements, he turned the latches and slid it up, letting a sharp gust of cold air blow in. New York City in the winter time. Cold. He shivered, pulled the hood over his head, and slipped out the window. The camera outside his room had been broken for three days with no one coming by to fix it. They were going to fix it today.

Tough luck. He was already gone.

He landed on his feet in the snow and shut the window. The storm was still brewing, falling snow quick to cover any tracks he made. Lou carefully went through the camera blindside so not to trigger any motion detection notifications, eventually slipping down the street and out of sight. He yanked on the gloves soon after and put the scarf around his neck, keeping in as much heat as possible as he marched his way down to the bus station. He reached it with a few minutes to spare and studied the map a moment. It would be a good four hours before he reached Chesapeake, maybe more with the snow.

He bought a long distance ticket for forty bucks. The half awake clerk didn't question a teenager going such a long way, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Lou got on the bus only a few moments after it pulled up, showing the ticket to the driver and sitting in the third row. Three other people got on and the bus took off down the road in the opposite direction of his house.

No turning back now.

'Am I really doing this?' He asked himself as he settled in for the long ride, backpack in his lap and looking out the window. A sliver of fear slipped down his spine, sending his heart racing. He'd never been anywhere besides school, his house, his friends' houses, and the rare restaurant. He'd never been by himself except on the walk home sometimes. He'd never been anywhere outside the city limits and yet here he was, going all the way to the bay of Maryland. Was he wrong to do this? Was he in over his head?

Then he thought about all the things his mom did to him. She made him feel the need to always be perfect and that no matter what he did, there would always be another step to go. That he would never reach perfection in her eyes. He could make all the good grades, do the best performance, and it still wouldn't be enough for her. She barely wanted him to have friends, just 'study partners.' When she found out he went to a movie with Ox after a study session, she threatened to get his father fired because he worked for her uncle. Lou wasn't sure she could do that, but he wasn't about to let it happen on the slightest possibility. She wanted him to stop being friends with Ox, but Lou knew he wouldn't take that as an answer and it would be torture for them both. So he said some mean things to Ox, pushed him away until he found another group of friends, and Lou was left alone. It was only because Nolan found him crying in a bush near the school that anything was fixed. If that hadn't happened, as embarrassing as it was, he would still have no friends and be locked in that cage. He likely would've never found the letters.

His mother's wrath went beyond just his friends and his perfection. Lou couldn't go anywhere without her approval and some kind of supervision. He couldn't have any food remotely bad for him and punishments often included skipped meals. He couldn't go outside to walk around because 'he'd get sick.' Lou had a weaker immune system, but he thought it was from not being exposed to the elements. His hair and clothes always had to be perfect. He could only wear uncomfortable suits or the school uniform during the day.

And another huge issue? He couldn't ask Mandy out on a date. He couldn't go anywhere so he couldn't take her anywhere fun that she deserved. Heck, he didn't know what was fun around there, but she would know. She could direct, he could pay, they could have fun - except for the fact that his mother was in the equation. She didn't know Mandy as anything except a fellow studying student, but if she knew her lower income family and the fact that her single father worked for the sewage plant, they would never see each other again except at school.

He wouldn't put it passed his mother to pay teachers to watch them and keep them separated.

All of the thoughts against his mother made his blood boil. Everything he couldn't do that everyone else could. The standards he was getting exhausted of even though he was conditioned to follow them. His back straightened up every time she walked into the room. He couldn't relax in her presence. He didn't remember the last time she hugged him in a way that wasn't for appearance in front of ther friends. Had she ever? The thought only strengthened his resolve. His butler acted more like a parent or uncle than his own blood mother. He could only hope his blood father was different.

If he was his blood father. It was the logical conclusion, but he worried he was pushing his deep want into it. Would if his mom had another guy? Would if another, unknown man was the real guy and Lou was about to jump into the life of a stranger?

'I have to get answers.' He thought, closing his eyes briefly. 'I'll never be satisfied if I don't.'

So he stayed on the bus as it continued on to Maryland, shivering in the cold that entered through not completely sealed windows and the door whenever it opened to let someone on or off. He tried to sleep. Failed. He never could sleep well in anything moving, but his building anxiety was making his already jacked up sleep schedule worse. He woke up every few minutes to a little bump, someone talking, or his own thoughts. He switched buses halfway to Maryland as routes ended, barely getting there in time with his sleep haze and the slick snow covering the ground. The storm was growing heavier as the hours ticked by - a freak storm. Just his luck.

Lou checked his watch again as the second bus came within an hour of Chesapeake Bay. Almost ten. His mother might not've noticed his disappearance. When she does, she'll call his friends' parents. They'll likely already know of his disappearance due to his cryptic text and the wall of them he hasn't answered. Of course, they could've already called and woke his mother out of desperation.

Genuinely, he felt guilty. Very guilty for leaving his friends and the people who felt like parents to him, but he couldn't think of anther way around it without the risk of his mother finding out. It was then or maybe never.

A small part of him - the same childish part that hoped the man he was heading to really was his father - was guilty for leaving his mother on the small chance she really worried about him.

'Call it payback for the pain she's caused me.' The vengeful part of him hissed. 'Let her feel a portion of how bad I've felt over the years.'

He slept on and off for another thirty minutes, ignoring how his stomach whined for food. He hadn't eaten since school lunch the day before. Couple that with lack of sleep and he was feeling pretty crummy, but adrenaline and determination kept him moving forward. If there was anything Lou was good at, it was working under the worst conditions.

Finally, it came to his stop. The closest one to the address on the letters. He got off, took a deep breath, and as the bus drove off, he took a step forward-

- and promptly slipped on a frozen piece of sidewalk, landing on his back.

"Not the greatest start." Lou grumbled, getting back to his feet and side stepping the puddle. His torso and right ankle twinged in pain with movement, but nothing major. He'd live to see tomorrow anyhow. As he brushed himself off, his eyes surveyed the area. Eleven o'clock in the morning, the area should be buzzing with movement, but the unique weather conditions meant there was no one to see his barassing fall or ask directions to. "I guess the first step is find someone." He muttered, very aware he looked like a crazy person talking to himself, but it helped to calm the panic of being in a brand new area where nothing was the same.

He moved slowly down the desolate sidewalk, hands tucked in his pockets and scarf tight around his neck. The letters were secure in the inner pockets of his tux, hidden under his hoodie layer as well. He couldn't afford to lose them.

After several 'sorry, we're closed' signs, he ran across an open coffee shop with an older barista who was happy to give him directions and a small coffee. Despite his gnawing hunger, he couldn't stomach anything else. He thanked her, tipped the jar with a ten dollar bill, and made his way east, reading street signs and taking turns until he ran across a place called Sunshine Neighborhood. A place that was so close to the water he could hear it sloshing against the beach, wave after wave beating sand. Despite the winter wind, he could smell sea salt through his stuffed nose.

Every step was carefully constructed to avoid ice. The snow had slowed down a little, flakes drifting over him. One landed on his nose, making him shiver harder and wrap his arms around himself. He'd never been exposed to the elements so long. It felt as good as it did bad. He watched children play in front yards, building snowmen or having snowball fights with some parents watching from the porch. When Lou passed, they watched him like a hawk, as if he was a criminal sulking the streets. He'd never felt so... wrong. Like he was a bad kid.

'I did leave my house.'

But it wasn't a home.

The address said it was house number 27. The further he got into the neighborhood, the more the houses were separated by a bit. They weren't mansions, but they weren't simple townhouses either. Two to three stories depending on the house, nice porches, and he'd seen one or two with a frozen water fountain in the front. They weren't opposing, cold buildings, but warm, cozy looking places with winter decorations outside. Some were decked out to the nines with Christmas decor, the picture of a happy and joyful place.

A snowball nailed him in the back of the head, sending his already wandering-minded self into a snow bank face-first. He coughed, slowly pulling himself to rise.

A hand appeared in front of his face. "I'm so sorry!" He looked up into the face of young woman with a sheepish child standing at her side. "Please forgive my daughter. She thought you were her brother with that hoodie on." After a moment of hesitation, Lou took the offered hand, allowing himself to be pulled up to his feet.

"It's alright." He attempted a smile and succeeded, finding it easier with kinder eyes on him. It wasn't a show stopping one he could give on stage or an overconfident dazzle, but a smile that felt right on his face. The woman smiled back. He nodded to the girl. "Nice throw."

"Thank you." She muttered, a little grin spreading across her face.

"Your welcome." He glanced down the street. "Ma'am, you wouldn't happen to know where house 27 is, would you? The Everett house?"

She blinked, then smiled. "I do. You're not far. Go about another ten houses and you'll hit it. You can't miss the Christmas tree and little snowmen outside. Their daughters have been playing in the snow all morning."

"Thank you." He started to move away, but the conversation wasn't over.

"I'm actually not surprised you know them. You look like a younger version of Henry, before he went grey." She chuckled, unaware of how Lou stopped, tensed, and held onto every word. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were his son. Are you related, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Uhm..." He looked back over his shoulders, glancing between her and the girl. "...possibly." Dumb answer. His dumb brain was short circuiting. Her face changed a little as she processed his words, eyebrows drawing together, and she opened her mouth up to say something else. As rude as it was, he cut her off. "Thank you again, ma'am. Have fun outside." He scurried off down the street at a faster pace, frigid air feeling spicy in his lungs as he thought of her words.

If I didn't know better, I'd day you were his son.

Unknowingly, the woman, whatever her name was, had risen and calmed his anxiety in a weird balance. If he looked so much like Henry, then there was a higher chance he was his son. But if he was Henry's son, would he want a walk in teenager with a bad past, terrible real social skills, and a mother who broke the man's heart? Most people wouldn't take him, would they? Would Henry?

'Don't get ahead of yourself, Louis. You don't know if you're related. Think logically.' He told himself, but it was hard to think logically when your heart was pounding and you were coming up on your possible father's house. Indeed, there was a giant Christmas tree out front, barren and mighty, standing at least ten feet. There were several two to three foot snowmen in the yard with lopsided carrot noses and twigs for arms, imprints of little footprints the only signs children had been there.

Lou reached the edge of the cobblestone pathway, his feet an inch from the first step. He had to use Ox's counting method to calm his breathing, nodding to himself. "Now or never." He whispered to the air. The teen started up the stairs - halfway up, he dropped his backpack and pulling off the hoodie. It was colder without it, but it would be easier to access the letters faster and maybe one of his mother's lessons would work: Presentation is key. He was told he looked good in a suit, even a wrinkled one.

With his hoodie, scarf, and gloves neatly folded and placed in his backpack and hands straightening the suit as best he could, he pulled one bag strap over his shoulder and prepared himself. Less clothes meant he was shivering harder, the winter wind invading his clothes and skin. His hair was far from perfect, and he ran his fingers through it, flipping half to the side in some semblance of style. The wind knocked it back down. Whatever. He couldn't do anything about it.

One foot in front of the other, he counted his way up the steps and then to the door. The Everett household was three stories, rustic looking with modern touches. The windows were big and detailed, lights hung from the rafters, and the porch held empty flower pots and a wide swing. He could hear the ocean sloshing louder. They weren't far at all from it, possibly just beyond the enclosed property fence of the entire neighborhood.

At the door, he straightened his back and shoulders, hand shaking as he raised it up to the middle of a fun, ornament covered wreath. The looser bits and pieces suggested it was handmade, unlike everything that his mother would have when hiring someone to decorate their house for Christmas, and it brought a brief smile to his face.

His hand hesitated halfway through knocking. Was he really going to ask for this door to be opened? To just walk into their lives and bring up questions they hadn't thought of? He'd be throwing their lives off track for a little bit or for the rest of their lives. (Maybe he was overreacting, but this wasn't exactly normal.) Dragging in one more deep breath and holding it, Lou knocked three times and stepped back.

One second. Two. Three. Four. Five.

A part of him wanted to leave and pretend he was never there. Get away before he could cause chaos. He stopped himself, standing as tall as he possibly could. No turning back. No turning back. No turning-

The door opened to a woman with long red hair, fair skin, and a warm smile. "Hello, how can I help you?"

"Hello, yes-" Calm down, Lou. Focus. It's like a presentation. Be formal. "-are you Shannon Everett?"

"Yes, I am. And you are?" Her smile didn't drop as her eyes took in his suit. It must've looked a little strange - a teenage boy standing outside in the snow with only a slightly wrinkled suit on and a backpack.

His heart caught in his throat a brief second. He swallowed it down. "I'm Louis. Louis Greyson. I need to speak to your husband, if that's possible?" He turned up the boyish charm as much as he possibly could when freezing. His hands automatically clasped themsleves in front of him. "It's really important. I wouldn't be bothering you if it wasn't. I'll be out of your hair as soon as the matter is... resolved."

She gave him one more up and down look, but it wasn't one of disgust. More curiosity and maybe a little skepticism. Who could blame her? Lou certainly couldn't.

A shiver swept through him that he couldn't suppress and her expression changed in a moment, shifting into that of a worried woman. A worried mother like Nolan's mom when her children got into scrapes, mental or physical. "Oh where are my manners." She stepped aside, ushering him in with a hand wave. He followed obediently, happy to enter a warm house with a fire blazing in the living room fireplace. "Dear, you must be freezing in that." He thought about telling her of the hoodie and scarf, but decided against it, figuring that would be strange. However, he wouldn't have gotten a word in anyway. She took him gently by the shoulder and steered him to the sofa, kicking the door shut behind her. "Sit right here while I get you some cocoa." She rushed into the kitchen, leaving Lou alone to bask in the newfound heat for only a moment before she came back with a steaming cup of aforementioned hot cocoa. "Drink up, but careful. It's hot." When he nodded, tense against the edge of the cushion and overwhelmed by the sudden attention, she smiled and headed up the stairs. "Henry, honey! Someone is here to see you!"

Soon, Lou was left alone again, carefully sipping from the mug. It was wonderful. Not just the taste, but the warmth flooding through his veins. He hadn't realized how cold he was.

Quiet footprints brought his attention to a hallway on the other side of the room, hiking his heart rate back up a moment. Their kids. Of course it wasn't just the two adults in the house. In the moment, he'd forgotten about them. A pair of emerald eyes, the same as her mother's, peeked out around the corner at him, single braided blonde hair barely in sight. They met eyes and she hid behind the wall again. Lou waited with bated breath and mild amusement, looking into his cocoa as he listened to the girl slowly walk toward him. Soon, she was on the other end of the couch. He turned his attention to her, offering a gentle smile as he put the cup down. She couldn't have been more than eight, wearing a blue dress that went to her knees and carrying what looked to be some sort of fairy wand. "Who are you?" She asked, eyes wide and curious.

"I'm Lou, and who are you?"

"Momma told me never talk to strangers."

"Smart woman."

She studied him a moment. "But you are in our house so..." Her nose scrunched up adorably, clearly thinking. "... I'm Claire. It's short for Clarrisa."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Claire."

"You too." She tilted her head. "How old are you?"

"I'm sixteen."

"You're almost as old as my brother. His name is Michael. He's almost eighteen." She took a step closer. Lou forced himself to look relaxed for her sake, their conversation temporarily taking his mind off the reason he was here. Temporarily. "I'm seven."

"That's big." That's what adults said.

"Not really."

"Depends on who you are."

"Maybe." She said, then asked, "do you like to color?"

"Do you?" He countered.

"Yes."

"Then so do I."

She perked up visibly, a smile lighting up her face. "Good. Wait here." She rushed back around the corner. Lou waited for the girl, glancing around in case there was another surprise visitor. He could hear wife and husband walking around upstairs, voices muffled by the distance. His attention was brought back down to ground level when Claire came back holding a large pack of crayons and some paper. She put a sheet in front of him on the glass tabletop by his drink and the other beside it. "That's your paper." She pointed, placing the crayons in the middle. "Let's draw."

She immediately grabbed a yellow crayon out of the box and started to carefully move it across the paper. Lou's fingers hesitated over the box. "Is there... anything specific you want me to draw?"

"No, use your imagination."

He thought a moment. An idea flashed across his mind. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue." She replied instantly. "Any shade."

"Blue is my favorite, too. And green. And purple." He said as he grabbed two blue crayons from the box, placing the lighter one on the table beside his paper. He started to draw, watching the girl out of the corner of his eye. She was sticking her tongue out the side of her mouth in concentration, making his heart melt.

"You have more than one favorite color?"

"The more the merrier sometimes." He put the crayon to paper, moving it in curves. Soon, he had the outline of a blue butterfly and was carefully coloring it in with light blue, creating shapes in the wings with dark blue and grey. So wrapped up in coloring with Claire, he didn't know there were two more people in the room. That is, he didn't know until a throat was cleared. His heart lurched as his head snapped up to see Shannon and... Henry. The man had nearly all silver hair with some bits of blonde remaining, a little bit of a mustache, and sharper jaw. His blue eyes were the same as Lou's and though his body was rigid with tension, those eyes were kind. He was wearing regular jeans and a green sweater, surprising the teen, but what exactly did he expect him to be wearing? A suit? In his own home? That's not what typical people did.

"Clarrisa, could you give our guest and I a moment?" He asked, sending his daughter a smile.

"Okay, Daddy." She stood up from where she'd gotten on her knees, hands clasped in front of her dress. "Can I leave my stuff here? So Lou and I can finish drawing after you talk?"

Louis placed his crayons in the box, standing to attention as Henry's eyes landed on him. Was he breathing? He had to be breathing. He better be breathing. He can't pass out in their living room floor. That would be a new level of embarrassing. Henry looked at him another moment, then to his daughter. "If he's here afterward and willing, you can finish coloring with him."

"Okay! Bye Lou!" She skipped off around the hallway corner again. Lou could barely utter a "bye" as he was left alone with the two adults.

"Alright, son." The man said, moving further into the room. Lou's heart could've stopped. 'It's just a term adults sometimes use for those younger.' He reminded himself, locking his knees so they wouldn't crumble. "What is it you need to talk to me about? Especially to be dressed in a suit with this weather. Frankly, you don't look old enough to be out of high school." He cracked a little smile. Lou tried to return it. Shannon slipped away to the kitchen, saying over her shoulder that she was going to start on lunch.

"Well, s-sir," He began, pausing a moment to try and control the nervous stutter. Not the time for nerves. It was like presenting in front of a crowd. Only the crowd might be your long lost father. "I came to speak to you about something very peculiar." Lou dragged in a breath and grabbed the letters in his pocket, pulling them out slowly. "More specifically, these. I found them."

Henry took the yellowed papers in his hands with his eyebrows furrowed, then the color drained from his face as he read them. "Oh." He muttered, slowly dropping to sit on the couch as he flipped through them. Lou stood awkwardly, trying not to wring his hands in his jacket and watching the man's reaction. Those were definitely his letters. "Oh."

"I'm so sorry for appearing like this, but... I needed to come here."

"I see." He said, looking up at Lou. "I understand."

All the blood rushed from Lou's head as he took in the words that were spoken with deep resignation. What exactly did he understand? Did he think Lou was his? Was he going to brush him off-

"I always did worry these went to the wrong house or got lost. I suppose she wouldn't stay in the same place for long. Once, the first time, I did revieve a letter, but it must've been a one time thing or someone messing with me." He sighed, placing the letters down beside the colored sheets on the table. "Well, thank you for brining them to me." The words were hollow, but the smile he attempted said more. Lou had to work to get his heart under control and thoughts together enough for a response.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but... you have the story a little wrong." Lou replied. The man tilted his head to the side, confusion blatantly evident. "The letters didn't go to the wrong house. Lillian Greyson is my mother. I'm her son, Louis Greyson." Henry's eyes were widening by the second, jaw working as if he was trying to say something. Lou kept going, words pouring out of his mouth. "I'm sixteen. The first letter dates back seven months before I was born on September 7th. I..." His hands dropped limply to his side as his head fell forward. This felt so stupid now that he was standing here with a dumbfounded man in front of him. "I'm sorry. This was ridiculous of me. I-I'll get out of your hair."

He went to grab his bag only to be stopped by Henry. The man's hands rested gently on his shoulders. Surprised, Lou slowly looked up. Henry was a good six or seven inches taller against Lou's five foot nine inch self. One hand moved and took Lou's chin with his index and thumb fingers, moving his face around a little. Lou let him, unsure of what was going on and frozen on the inside. Apparently, he found what he was looking for because he let go, taking him by both shoulders again. "You're my..."

"I don't want to push you into anything, sir. I may not be right. She could've been with someone else. I don't- My father was said to be dead. That could be true-" He reached up a hand to his hair to pull at it, unable to control the nervous habit. Everett moved it away and took him more firmly by the shoulders.

"We share the same nose, hair, and eyes. I've seen those eyes in all my children. There's no mistaking my grandmother's eyes. I don't need a paternity test or some court document." He smiled, a glistening sheen over his eyes. "You are my 𝑠𝑜𝑛, Louis." He was drawn forward into a bear hug that smelled of peppermint and ink. It felt completely safe, like the hugs of his friends, their parents, and Darian. The tension inside Lou released. He allowed himself to press against the man, his possible father, and a missing piece of his heart was finally filled. Emotions drowned out every concerned thought of what would happen next, where they would go from here, and he let himself get completely engulfed by the warmth of the hug by a man he thought would always remain a dead mystery.

Lou buried his face in his chest, fighting back the tears. As illogical as he knew it could be for someone to conclude another was their child without proper testing, another part of him warred that good parents have instincts. And based on Claire's behavior, he was a good parent. There was so much certainty in Henry's voice that Lou was completely compelled to believe him, hoping beyond hope that he was right and this wouldn't be taken away from him in the next week because a paternity test said otherwise. He couldn't take it.

After a long few minutes that made the whole ride there worth it, Henry took him by the shoulders again to look Lou over. The smile never left. "I knew there was something familiar about you. Now I see it so clearly." A tear slipped out the edge of his eye, dropping to the ground. "Oh, Louis, I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Lou asked, blinking rapidly to keep his own tears from falling. One matra he couldn't get rid of rang in his head - crying was a weakness. "And please, call me Lou."

"Lou," he started again, leaning down to be more eye level, "I very much believe you are my son and a test would prove that true. I've been out of your life for sixteen years. I could've been there." His voice sounded so pained it hurt Lou's heart.

"Don't blame yourself." He shook his head. "Blame my mother. I don't know why she did what she did. She told me my father died and wanted nothing to do with me while he was alive. That clearly was a man of her imagination, if what you're saying is true." He paused, spealing quieter. "I want it to be true."

"We'll... we'll rush a test, if that's what you wish, but I can tell my grandmother's eyes a mile away. They have a darker blue at the edge and a lighter center. A perfect shade mix. Even Claire, with her green, have the same shade variation."

"Anyone could have these eyes. This could be an entire coincidence." He folded his arms, glancing away with his mouth pursed in a thin line. He wanted to believe this so bad, but he was thinking... and thinking was clearly the enemy of emotional moments. They'd shared a hug. A hug Lou wanted to believe was the first of father and son, but he couldn't just let go of all logical thinking. He was made up of logic. "But... the dates line up. My mother may be... not the best, but I don't believe she would be a cheater. We... share a lot of appearance traits. You say I have the eyes of relatives and yourself." He ticked the list off in his mind. It sounded so right. Could he risk it? Could he believe it? His heart wanted to. His mind resisted.

Henry sighed. "Come and sit with me." He guided him to the couch, sitting them down beside each other. "I best tell you the entire story of your mother."

They talked for fifteen minutes. Henry told him of how he met Lillian almost eighteen years before at a party. They hit it off and developed a relationship. It was good at first, but quickly moved down hill, with his mother getting more distant and starting fights. She convinced Henry that he wasn't showing enough effort and love, causing him to shower her with more and more gifts. Nearing their one year anniversary, she took off in the middle of the night. The letter date was only a few days after it happened, and she barely ever left the house. There was never any sign of cheating, only distance and anger. When the story was done, Henry put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get a test to prove it to you. I don't need it. I know you're mine. I can feel it." He tapped his heart.

Lou fiddled with the cuffs of his suit, pulling in a breath. "Okay." He said. "Okay. I'll... I think I believe you. I would like a test though. To be sure."

He smiled. "Certaintly." He leaned back in the chair. "Now, Lou, I do remember that I sent those letters to New York City. How are you all the way in Maryland?" He raised an eyebrow. "And in a suit in this weather?"

Lou rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and decided to answer the second question first. "I have a hoodie in my bag. Scarf and gloves, too. I was just taught presentation is everything. I felt very compelled to be presentable for this type of conversation. My hair is usually a little better." He did a half-hearted gesture toward his shaggier curls. "As for the first part, I knew I likely only had one chance. If I waited for another day, my mother might have figured out I took the letters and read them. I might've slipped up and got myself grounded for the next few months. Maybe a year. Literally. The camera was down, no school, I had the shot. I took it." He stopped, ice running through his veins. "I ditched my phone in my bedroom so she couldn't track me. My friends are probably worried sick. Granted, my last text was pretty cryptic... oh I'm never going to get that phone back..." He ran a hand down the side of his face, leaning his head back against the cushions. His eyes closed on their own accord, giving himself a moment to think and feel how tired his body was.

"You can borrow my phone to call your friends. I'll get you another phone." There was a shifting noise and Henry was walking away. He came back a moment later, putting the phone in Lou's open hand. The blonde opened his eyes, fingers curling around the sleek little rectangle. The man's face had gone a tad paler with Lou's words, and now his eyes were narrowed in concern. "How much did you sleep last night?"

"Enough." The answer rolled off his lips easily. "Thank you."

"Hmm." The concern didn't leave. Lou ignored it. "You're welcome. I'm going to speak to Shannon about what's happened, alright?" Lou nodded, already dialing the memorized number to Nolan's mother. She'd be the most calm of them all and likely with some, if not all, his friends and on a madhouse search party for him. He watched Henry move to the kitchen as he put the phone to his ear. It didn't get through a full ring before it was answered.

"Hello?" Gosh, she sounded tired. Guilt reared its ugly head, and he cleared his throat.

"Hey Miss Rachel. It's L-"

"LOU!" He had to hold the phone away from his ear as she yelled into the phone, wincing. He put the phone back after a second, hearing a cacophony of voices fill the background. He recognized Nolan, Mandy, and Ox among a few others. "Oh my gosh! Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm perfectly fine." He smiled a little at their care, their voices warming that ice in his body. "I..." He had to phrase this right. "I swear I thought it through as best I could, erm... I'm in Maryland."

"LOUIS LILLIUS GREYSON!" He winced again for two reasons. One) he hated his middle name. A direct callback to his mother's name. Two) She only said his full name if he was in trouble. Boy, was he in trouble, but it was the good kind of trouble. Really. "What the heck are you doing in Maryland!?" The voices in the background picked up in volume at the question.

"I..." He might as well say it outright. "I'm meeting who is possibly my biological father."

There was silence from Rachel on the other end for a brief few seconds. He worried he broke her until she was moving, telling the others to be quieter and she'd explain in a minute. He heard a door shut, blocking out other voices completely. "Alright, Lou, tell me absolutely everything. Every little detail that you want to share."

When Rachel told you to do something, you did it. Not just because she was the sweetest woman alive and Nolan's mother, but because she was the type of person you didn't question. A wise woman one didn't go against unless they wanted The Eyebrow Raise. He told her everything. From the punishment of cleaning the attic (he skirted around the missed food detail), to the letters to taking buses all the way to Chesapeake, Maryland in a northern snowstorm that was fluctuating in severity. He told her how the dates lined up, what Henry said, and that they'd get a test to prove it. "That's every detail I can think of."

"Answer me one more question, Lou." She said after some silence. "Do you feel safe right now?"

He glanced toward the kitchen at where he could barely see Shannon's red hair, then at the hallway where Claire disappeared. His heart wasn't racing. The home was warm. He was out of the storm outside even if he was sometimes in a mental one. "Yes, I'm safe. I know I'm safe."

"Then I don't have to break every law to get to Maryland." She said, a little chuckle filtering over the phone line. "Could I talk to him? Your..."

"Possible father?" He deadpanned, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Yes. If I could. Then you can talk to your friends. They're all really worried, Lou. Your text didn't exactly give any peace of mind."

He sighed, slumping into the couch for a second. "I know, but my mother has probably already gone through my phone. I couldn't say anything about it without telling her. She's probably already figured out the truth about 'study sessions' since I didn't have time to delete the texts. What's she doing, by the way?"

"Raising a lot of heck, that's for sure. She's gone against me and everyone. She didn't call the police though. She's convinced you're hiding in one of our houses or nearby and will come 'crawling back.'" He could hear the air quotes. "I must admit, I didn't expect you to be out of state, but we didn't know what you were doing either. I know that you usually know what you're doing, Lou. You're not reckless. I hope you know what you're doing now."

"I do. I promise. I wasn't sure at first, but I am now. I need this. I really, really do."

"I believe you."

He smiled despite her not being able to see it. "I'll hand the phone over." He stood and moved toward the kitchen, catching Heny's attention with a small wave of his hand. "His name is Henry Everett." He said, then moved the phone from his ear, speaking to the man. "My friend's mom wants to talk to you. Her name is Rachel." He passed the phone over and tried not to listen to the half of the short conversation he could hear, meeting eyes with Shannon in the kitchen. She looked a little pale, but she still smiled with bright eyes when he looked. It didn't look fake, unlike the smile his mom would give to literally anyone besides a select few. He wasn't on that list. He offered her a small smile and nod back before the phone was handed back to him.

Lou spent the next fifteen minutes back on the couch, assuring all his friends (with him on speakerphone) that he was fine, not dead, and knew what he was doing with going to Maryland. He explained the whole situation and that he was about to call his mother. Lay it all on the line. Burn a bridge or build one. Of course, he had their support - after being told to never ever disappear like that on them again. ("I will personally come find you and put some sense into you." Ox, his longest friend, had said above everyone else, getting echos of loud agreement from Mandy and Nolan. Nolan's little sister, Moxy, was quick to follow up that she would drag him by the ear and not ever want to sit on his shoulders again. Mandy threw in her own threat. Lou wasn't sure who he was scared of more.)

"We'll be a call away if you need us, buddy." Ox said. Lou knew the green haired teen was smiling that soft, supportive smile he always had when a friend was in need.

"Yep!" Nolan added.

His heart felt warm and tingly, chasing away some of the anxiety that plagued him. The phone call with his mother was getting closer by the second. It wasn't going to be pleasant. That he already knew. But how bad could it be with him so far away? "Thanks, guys. I'll call you in a while."

"Sure thing." Mandy said. She sounded closer to the phone. "Be careful, Lou. Stay safe, okay?"

"I will. I promise." That little fluttery feeling swirled his stomach at her voice. "Bye everyone."

"Bye Lou!"

He didn't want to hang up after having his friends so far for so long, but he forced his thumb to slide across the screen, ending the call. The blonde dragged in a breath, returning to the number pad. Call his mother. Most people would say that was easy. With his mother, nothing was ever easy. He elected to wait until Henry and Shannon were back. Not because he was stalling. No. It was the best choice. They needed to be there in case his mother said something. At least, Henry did. He wasn't sure how Shannon felt about him yet. He was another kid. A kid she had nothing to do with and was birthed from an old love of her husband. She had no reason to want him here. She welcomed him into her home beforehand as a stranger. Now he might be her husband's son.

'Focus on one thing at a time, Lou.' He told himself as the two adults came in from the kitchen, hands linked together. That had to be a good sign. 'Mother first.'

They dropped hands when they reached the couches so Shannon could sit across from him and Henry could sit in the seat beside Lou. Why did they separate? For his sake? Great, another thing to feel bad about. His foot tapped against the ground as he waited for what they had to say, entirely not expecting what came out of his possible father's mouth.

"That Rachel woman has been very good to you." Henry said with a breathy chuckle.

"What do you mean? She has, very much, yes, but why?" He hadn't expected those words to be the first out of the man's mouth.

"She threatened that I better 'take care of her baby' or she would come up here and put me in the ground herself. I already planned to, but I definitely don't want to die before I get to know you. She was nicer afterward, but the threat was clear. Mama bear at her finest." He winked at his wife, earning a wider smile than the nervous one she had. Was Lou making her nervous? Her hands were clasped in her lap, her back straighter than most would hold themselves, but she still smiled at Lou when her eyes landed on him. Was it real or fake? He was beginning to doubt his earlier assessment. Would if she didn't like him and was a really good actress about it? His mom could pretend to like people she complained about.

Lou wouldn't put it against Shannon to not like him. He was intruding on their lives in a catastrophic way.

"Yeah." He attempted a smile. That was easier to do when thinking about Rachel's care. "She's always been amazing, ever since I've known her. She lets me stay at her house a lot when I can and covers for me with Mother."

Henry turned, leaning his side against the back of the couch so he was facing Lou. "Speaking of your mother, when do you want to call her? You don't have to if you don't want to."

"It's not a matter of wanting to, sir. It's about needing to. Even if I didn't call her, there'd be no way I could show up like nothing happened. It would be best to tell the truth so I may actually see you again if you're proven my father."

"Lou, trust me." His face become more serious, smile disappearing as his eyes leveled with Lou's. "When a court proves you mine, there will be nothing on Earth that can stop me from seeing you."

Lou wanted to be warmed by the statement, and he was. He very much was, but... the thought of wrecking a family because he showed up kept moving through his head. He couldn't do that to them. "That means a lot to me, sir."

"Please Lou, call me Henry. Or Mr. Everett, if that's what you're more comfortable with."

"Alright... Henry." He recieved a smile at the name. He hadn't actually said it to him before, only in his mind. "I best get this over with." Lou started typing in the number with fingers that wanted to shake. "Should I... put it on speaker? I don't want anyone else to hear besides you two. If you would stay, that is." He glanced between them. "You don't have to."

It was Shannon who responded. "That's all up to you, sweetie. If you'd like us to stay, we'll stay. Unless you don't want me to, which is entirely understandable, all things considered."

Lou took a moment to process her words. Everything was up to him. He wasn't being forced to do anything or having choices made for him. They were his decisions. "I don't mind you staying, ma'am." She was a nice woman. When she spoke to him, she didn't use the voice his mother did - like she was talking to someone far younger and were insuperior to her. She talked like Rachel did. Sweet and caring in a way that wasn't superficial.

"The same goes for me as with my husband." She smiled. "You can call me whatever you're comfortable with, whether that be Mrs. Everett or Shannon."

"And as for any other prying ears," Henry drawled, glancing back over the couch at the concealed hallway. "Micheal is at his friend's house to finish a school project. He stayed over last night because the storm got unexpectedly bad and shouldn't be back for another few hours. Annie, she's the youngest, is taking a nap upstairs. And Claire should be in the playroom, unless a certain little girl is listening in...."

There was a sharp intake of air and a giggle followed by pattering footsteps heading away. Henry shook his head, half exasperated and half amused. "Now, we are alone."

The intrusion of a little girl didn't do much for Lou's nerves, but it broke some of the tension. He managed a smile. "I'll put it on speaker. I don't know what she'll say or do."

"We'll be right here." Henry assured, placing a brief hand on Lou's shoulder. Through the suit, he could feel the warmth of it. A warmth that wasn't just physical but also mental. Calming. He found the strength to press the call button.

Every waiting dial tone sent his heart into a flurry of anxiety and stress. What if she didn't answer? What if she did? He always had some semblance of plan when talking to his mother. In this situation, he had no plan, but at least he was hundreds of miles away where she could only use words.

The fourth tone came. Was she really not going to answer-

The call clicked in. "Who is this?" She demanded more than asked. Her voice sent a little shock of fear through his spine, but the two adults beside him made that fear a little more bearable. He gathered his will to speak as his mother pressed on. "Well? I don't have all day."

"Mother, it's Louis. I'm-"

"LOUIS LILLIAN GREYSON!" The sudden yelling made him almost flinch. Expected as it was, it was still unwelcome. "Where in the world did you run away to? You better get back here right this second. You're already grounded for the next six months. Not here by fifteen minutes and it'll be a year." He could feel her anger through the phone. If he closed his eyes, he was sure he'd be able to see it - her pinched face, mouth turned down, and clenched jaw.

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"And why exactly can't you, Louis?" Her voice turned dangerously calm. "You know the punishments when you disobey. Where. Are. You. I'll come get you myself if I have to." She huffed. "Those study group kids have been a terrible influence. You won't be seeing them again."

As always, anger curled in his stomach with her insult to his friends. Out his peripheral, he saw Henry's hand clenching on his knee, mouth set in a deep frown at the phone. His assuring hand remained on Lou's shoulder, pushing strength into him. Shannon's kind and concerned eyes offered solace from across the table. Lou drew in a breath. Now was the time.

"I'm in Maryland. Chesapeake, Maryland."

She didn't say anything for a long minute. "Why are you in Maryland?" Her voice had never sounded so unsteady. Most would assume it was because of how far he was away from home. Lou thought that she might already know the answer.

Another breath. "I found the letters underneath the board in the attic." He paused. No outrage. No words. Only silence. Dangerous silence. "I came in search of who might be my father who you said was dead. Mother," new vigor entered his words, controlled by honest confusion, curiosity, and desperation, "is he my father? Henry Everett?"

"Yes."

Lou sucked in a breath, barely feeling it as Henry moved his hand from his shoulder to drape his arm over his shoulders, holding the teen steady in his seat. The blonde's hand tried to tremble on the phone, so he settled it on the coffee table. He'd been told by Henry himself he thought he was Lou's father, but hearing it, a direct confirmation with no speculation? It was a bit like a punch to the gut. His mother knew. His mother lied. He couldn't had his father all along. "Why did you lie to me?" The words didn't tremble as the question tumbled from his mouth, demanding more answers.

He heard her pull in a breath of the speaker. "Louis, you have two choices. You either start home right this instant or I come up there and get you myself. The first option is better. You'll be grounded either way."

"What-" He shook his head, knowing she couldn't see it. "No, I'm not going back there. Not right now. I'm not." His heart was pounding rapidly, fingers clenching on the fabric of his pants. He was aware this was the first act of direct defiance again his mother, but he couldn't go. Not yet. He just found his biological father. She couldn't give him a day? "Mother, please-"

The steel was back in her voice. "Louis, are you disobeying me?"

Instantly, he wanted to shrink back. Fold his hands together and retreat so he wouldn't have to face her wrath. But the presence of his father stopped him. He wasn't alone. It wasn't child against parent. He could feel Henry's distaste, his anger for the woman on the phone, coming from his body. Possibly the only reason he wasn't not intervening was that his mother didn't know he was there, and Lou wanted to be the one to speak to her.

"Yes, I am." The fire in his chest put iron in his words. He wasn't leaving yet. She could wait-

"If you will not come back and would rather stay with that scoundrel of a man, then you are no longer my son."

His heart might've stopped, all of the fire gone and leaving him hollow. His body was frozen like the ice outside. He forgot how to breathe. 'You are no longer my son.' His mother could be mean and vile, but to... to disown him? He never thought... She had to love him a little, right? He always thought she did, somewhere in her heart, harbor love for him and didn't know how to show it. That everything she did, she thought she was doing in his best interest. It was a thought he could follow and take some small comforts in when he was lying on his bed, thinking in the middle of the night.

'You are no longer my son.'

She didn't want him to do anything but obey her. She didn't want him to know his father. She didn't love him.

He could feel his heart breaking.

His thoughts were in such a whirlwind that he almost didn't hear his mother as she continued to speak. Was he breathing? He couldn't feel it. Everything was numb with shock.

"You are not my son but a stupid, irresponsible boy who doesn't deserve what I've given him. You have no respect for me, after all I've done for you, and-"

"That is enough!" Henry broke in, grabbing the phone. His voice was full of anger that Lou could only flinch away from. Knowing it wasn't directed at him didn't help. Not when everything was... so much. "You will not speak to my son that way."

"Let me parent how I parent and keep your nose out of it, Henry-"

"That is not what a parent says to their child, no matter if they've done wrong or not. I've only known him for an hour and I already know he is one amazing kid, no thanks to you." The hand squeezed his shoulder again. "Lou-"

Shannon was next to speak up, standing from the couch. "Henry, he's overwhelmed." Her voice was calm, but the concern was clear. She came to his side, hand curling around his bicep gently as she knelt beside him. "Lou, honey, breathe. You've got to breathe. Henry will take care of ℎ𝑒𝑟." The anger in the sweet woman's voice wasn't missed, but she was quick to calm herself as Lou squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force air into his lungs. His mother was talking again, making him flinch, but she was cut off by Henry.

"I'll see you in court later." The reciever audibly clicked and then Henry was at his side again, and on his shoulder as Lou put his head in his hands, desperately forcing his lungs to work through the panic attack. He couldn't think enough to count. He couldn't-

"Lou," Shannon said gently. He was fairly certain it was her hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles through the fabric of his suit. He barely knew her yet she was already comforting him more than his mother - Lillian - ever tried, "I know it's hard, but you can breathe, sweetie. We'll get this all figured out, I promise." She took one of his hands from where it was trying to dig into his scalp and held it in hers. "I want you to breathe for five seconds, hold for three, and out for five. Can you do that?"

He managed to nod, not wanting to open his eyes yet. It was the same trick as Ox. He knew that. So why couldn't he do it by himself? Henry had his other hand in the next second, hand on his shoulder as the two adults, his father and step-mother, counted out the breaths for him. It took a few strained minutes of trying not to think and breathe, but he got his lungs under control. Sheepishly, he dropped his head down further, releasing his tight hold on the woman's hand. His hands were shaking. "Sorry." He breathed.

"Lou, you have nothing to be sorry for." Shannon said. Her hand slowly reached out and brushed his bangs away from his eyes, her head craning forward to peer at him. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I ran away from-"

Henry cut him off, taking one of his hands and squeezing it. "I don't think it's running away. I think it's 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔. You had questions she wouldn't have answered, Louis." Somehow, his full name didn't sound so bad coming from him. "You would've been punished for those questions and you may have never gotten here. We might've never met. I might have never known you. I am so glad you came, even if it was dangerous. From here on out, it's my job, 𝑜𝑢𝑟 job," his head tilted toward his wife, who reached out and held Lou's other hand, "to protect you. Rachel protects you, your friends protect you, and we want to be on that list. Will you let us do that?"

There was another lump in his throat. His eyes burned with tears he refused to let out. After a second, he nodded. "Yeah." His voice was small, but the affirmation made Henry smile like Lou just gifted him the world. All at once, he was pulled into a hug by Henry. His father. There was no doubt anymore, not after the confirmation, and it meant the hug was worth more than the first one. Closer. The doubt couldn't cover his brain and sodden the moment because there was no doubt. Nothing. He pressed his face into the woolen sweater, fingers wrapping around the fabric tightly. His hands were still trembling. Another set of arms wrapped around him and Lou was squished between the two.

The tears slipped out, soaking into the sweater. The shaking followed and a sob managed to squeeze passed his walls. They held him through his crying, the hands petting through his hair alternating. He felt so safe, so... right that it didn't feel wrong to cry. He didn't feel embarrassed. Henry's hand moved up and down his back and by the way the man was shaking a little himself, Lou guessed he was crying, too.

When he had some semblance of control over himself, Lou pulled back a little, meeting the eyes of Henry. Tears traced down both their cheeks. His father let out a little laugh. "I'm so happy to have you here, Lou. I always thought I was chasing Lillian those years, but... I think I was chasing you. That piece I knew was missing wasn't her. It was you."

Lou sniffed, wiping at his eyes with his suit sleeve. His mothe... she would've scolded him for getting it dirty, but he did not care. Not anymore. He shouldn't. "I've always wanted to know my father. She said he was dead and wanted nothing to do with me."

"I can promise you neither of those things are true." His lips tilted up in a smile. His hands rested on Lou's shoulders again, an action that was becoming more and more familiar. Shannon remained behind him, one hand on his back. "Now, I'm going to call my lawyer team up to get a case started. You need to wear something different than this suit. I'm sure it's not comfortable."

"I only ever really wear suits unless Nolan or Ox lend me clothes..." Lou muttered. His heart was doing a weird flip at the thought of Henry taking Lillian to court, but he also didn't object to it.

"And who's choice is that?" He raised an eyebrow. Lou stayed silent. They both knew the answer. "I'm sure Michael has something old you can use until we get you some clothes for yourself."

"He sure does." Shannon stood gracefully from the couch, a soft smile on her face. "Come on, Lou." She took his hand, gently pulling him to stand.

"You don't have to get me clothes." Lou rushed to say as he was guided to the stairs, looking over his shoulder at Henry.

"I'm your father. I should've been buying you clothes for years." The words did not assure Lou. Henry's eyes softened. "It's fine, Lou. I promise."

Knowing nothing would deter the man, Lou sighed and followed Shannon up the stairs. The first room on the left was apparently his new... step-brother's room as that's where they went first. His step-mother made him sit on the bed while she dug through the closet, allowing Lou to look around at the new space. It was a mix of football and engineering themes posters, a jersey hanging on the wall above a green themed bed. The walls were a lighter grey shade, and, as with the rest of the house, dark wood covered the floor. Two bing bag chairs and gaming set (an X-Box? PS5? He didn't know the difference) were on the floor in the corner and another TV was across from the bed, sitting on a dresser. Other smaller objects filled the room, like pictures (to far for him to see clearly) and textbooks on a desk. Said desk was also covered in what looked to be machines - or pieces of them. Different tools hung on the wall above the desk along with some blueprints Lou didn't understand a tenth of. Another wall held a little cabinet full of trophies and metals.

"Here we go!" Shannon pulled some clothing items from the back of the closet, drawing Lou's attention to her. She came over with a folded pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt. "They'll probably be a little big, but they'll work for the moment. Michael is too big for them."

"Thank you." He took the clothes gingerly and decided to ask one of the questions on his mind. "Does Michael play football?"

"Oh, yes. He's a quarterback for the Academy nearby. A good one, too. The team is in the playoffs, but they've had to postpone due to this freak weather. They'll play the last three games in December, if the weather permits." She smiled proudly.

"Oh, that's really cool. Is... is he into inventing, too?" Maybe he was asking too many questions, but with the knowledge that this was a part of his family, he wanted to know everything.

"Engineering, yes. I'm not sure if he's invented anything, but he's won competitions." The pride she had in her son was clear and it made Lou's heart squeeze. Maybe she could talk about him like that one day, even though he was only her step son. His mother never talked about him unless it was to brag to her colleagues. Even then, it was just a competition among rich parents on how successful their kids were - her accomplishments through him, not his own. "C'mon, let's get you to your room."

"My room?" Confusion colored his voice. She only smiled, guiding him out of Michael's room and down the hallway. She opened the last door on the left to a room, about the same size as Michael's, and themed in brilliant shades of blue. He entered, doing a little spin to take it all in - a bed, desk, mostly empty bookshelves, closet, lamp, dresser, television. He'd never had a TV before. "This is... mine?" He was almost hesitant to ask again, afraid it would all get taken away from him if he said anything.

"Yes. It's all yours and more." She put her gentle hand on his shoulder. "It was a guest room, but Henry and I talked about it while we were in the kitchen. This will be your room. We'll get it all fixed up how you like it, even if you're not here all the time. We'll have to talk to Rachel about school and all - get that figured out, but you'll always have a place with us."

He dragged in a breath, blinking back tears because he could not cry again today. This was the most he'd cried in a long time. "This has got to be strange for you."

"Hm?"

He gestured to himself, then around them. "Me. Everything. I'm... I'm a kid you didn't sign up to have." He hugged the clothes closer to himself, glancing away from her.

"Lou," her index and middle finger slid under his chin, gently probing him to look at her. He did. "I may not have 'signed up' to have you, and I definitely didn't expect this to happen today or any day, but I am very willing to take you. I'm not planning to be the evil step mother like in story books." She chuckled, pulling a little smile out of him. "You're Henry's son and, as long as you want to be, that makes you my son, too. It'll take a little bit of getting used to, yes, but I'm not going to let you go on thinking I don't want you."

For a minute, he couldn't find words, breath stalled in his throat. She wanted him. She was fine with him. "That means a lot. Thank you, Shannon." His eyes were watering again, making the world and her smile blur.

"I'll let you get dressed in here. Lunch will be ready in half an hour, and you can meet Annie, Claire, and Michael officially then, okay? Well, I guess you already met Claire, but it'll be under more official terms."

"I understand." He replied, nodding while trying to subtly blink away the tears. A flutter of combined excitement and nervousness ran through his heart, making it jump and his mind race. He was finally meeting his siblings. 'Will they like me?' He asked himself as Shannon left him to change. Lou locked the door behind her, slowly moving to switch from his hated yet normal suit to the casual clothes. The air around him touching his skin made him shiver. Was it really that cold? Quickly, he finished pulling on the clothes, feeling a bit strange in the slightly too big materials and bare arms. He grabbed his backpack where he placed it on the foot of the bed and retrieved the hoodie, sliding it over his torso to keep the warmth in. Better.

A knock at the door startled him. Tugging on his shoes, he did a half-hop toward the door. "Just a moment." He said, finally managing to get his stubborn left shoe on. The dress shoes looked a little out of place on the outfit, but there was little he could do about it. He opened the door, first seeing nothing until he looked down.

Claire stood in the doorway, holding a notebook and pencil set. She tilted her head at him, green eyes studying him. "I heard you, Daddy, and Mommy talking earlier." She said, causing Lou to involuntarily tense. "Are you my brother?"

"Erm..." He definitely didn't expect this. In all the commotion, he forgot Claire was listening in at one point. She must've came back. Deciding on the straight truth causing less problems later, he replied, "Yes, I am. Your half brother, actually."

She watched him another minute, unaware of how the blonde waited anxiously for her reaction. Finally, she smiled. "So, we're siblings? I'm your sister?"

Encouraged by the smile, he gave her one of his own. "Yes, we are." He knelt down again, as he had earlier, and held out his hand. "I'm your brother, Lou. Short for Louis."

She giggled, holding her materials in one arm in order to take his hand. "I'm your sister, Claire. Short for Clarrisa." She mimicked, giving his hand as firm a shake as she could. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too." He chuckled, some of the tension inside his muscles easing. He had a sister. Two of them. "What do you have there?" He nodded toward the supplies, thinking he already knew the answer.

Claire let go of his hand to walk further into the room, beelining for the desk. "Daddy said that if you wanted to, we could keep coloring after you talked. You're still here, so we can color?" She turned her big eyes on him and he couldn't say no to that puppy-dog face. Was this his life now?

"I don't see why not." He smiled a little, getting an excited laugh from the girl. The blonde came to the desk with her only for her to change her mind about where to draw, putting the paper and colored pencils on the floor. He followed her to sit on the ground and they resumed their coloring time from earlier. It wasn't long before he finished the butterfly.

"Finished." He stated, holding up the paper. She let out a little gasp, eyes lighting up.

"It's a butterfly! It's beautiful."

"It's for you." He handed her the drawing, letting her tilt it around in her hands. "You told me your favorite color was blue."

"It is! Thank you!" She put it to the side. "Hold on. I'm almost finished." She turned away from him to where she'd hidden her paper on her other side, grabbing the blue colored pencil he'd just finished using. A moment later, she raised her secret piece, the blank back facing him. "Close your eyes." He followed her orders, unable to contain a smile at her open giggles. The paper was placed carefully in his outstretched hands. "Open them!"

He opened his eyes to see what looked to be a portrait of a boy with blonde hair, black tux, blue eyes.... him? Was this a picture of him? "....what.." He struggled for words, not wanting to wrongly assume. He looked over the paper at her. "Who..."

"It's you, silly." She walked on her knees to come sit beside him, easily pressing her should against his arm. His sister. "See, your suit and blue eyes. Your hair is hard to get right because it's so wavy, but I tried my best. Do you like it?"

"Like it?" He asked, almost to himself. His eyes were watering again as he gave the girl a bright smile. "I love it! Thank you so much. You're so talented. It's amazing." She did seem to have a gift for art. The lines were harder, easier to discern, and the features were more prominent than anything he'd ever drawn facial wise - if he did draw. He couldn't remember the last time he drew, other than the butterfly.

"Thank you." She laughed. "Maybe it can be the first gift for your new room?"

"It definitely can be." He stood, discreetly wiping at his eyes as he went to the desk once more. There was a bulletin board above it and he took four pushpins from a little bowl on the side. "Can I do this?" He gestured to the board. She nodded, bouncing on her toes with his butterfly art in her hands. He put the priceless art in the exact middle of the board, pinning it at the very corners so not to encroach on any of the careful coloring. "Perfect."

"You're right in the middle."

"Yes, but that wasn't all I was talking about. The art is perfect and it's a wonderful gift."

"You're welcome. I love my butterfly. Her name is Belle."

"That's a great name." His heart was metling on the inside. She gave him another smile and then her arms were around his waist, hugging him. Surprised, he froze. "Uh..."

"It's nice to have another brother." She looked up at him, chin against his stomach.

Getting over his shock, he knelt down, giving her a proper return hug. She repositioned her arms around his neck. "It's nice to have siblings, including you."

"Do you have any other siblings?"

"No. I thought I was an only child until today." He chuckled nervously. "But I'm very happy to have you and I can't wait to meet Annie and Michael."

Another knock on the door brought Lou and Claire's attention to it. It opened and Shannon poked her head around the edge, smiling at the two. "Lunch is ready. Michael is back and everyone else is downstairs."

Claire grabbed onto his hand, pulling him forward. "Let's go, Lou!"

He smiled to hide his anxiety, carefully slipping by Shannon to follow the little girl. Time for introductions.

#fanfiction #lou uglydolls #uglydolls #fanfic #comfort #friendship #human au

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