#in the matter of a few weeks XD

[anoseforrottenapples]

⏳ for Mary!

@honorhearted

“Admittedly, my engagement with Abraham was not easy.” Mary grimaced as the needle she was working with slid into her finger, catching on the subtle callus marring its tip. Pressing against the skin, she was satisfied when no pinpricks of blood emerged, and she resumed her stitchwork. “Of course, Thomas’s death hung over the whole affair, along with the shipwreck that killed my parents and two of my brothers. Then there was the little issue of Abraham already being engaged to Anna… though it took nearly three years for me to learn about that bit of village knowledge.” She sighed. “Admittedly, that does explain a fair bit of Abraham’s reticence in regard to our engagement and marriage.” Studying her line of stitches, Mary softly added. “Thomas’s death however… that was what truly put a damper on both our spirits. Abraham, for obvious reasons… his brother had just died. My reasoning was admittedly more selfish. I had expected to marry an army officer… and I ended up with a student. One who quickly dropped out of university to devote himself to a cabbage farm that would not produce.”

Mary dropped her voice, her hands fiddling with the needle though she could not continue to work. “We’ve been in debt since we married—every crop has failed due to the maggots, but Abraham is too proud to ask his father for help. I suppose he would rather see his wife and son starve, or end up the shame of the village, then admit he either needs to turn his hand to another trade or change his crop.” That was why she had no regrets burning down the farmhouse, even if she did regret losing all of the household goods that her female relatives had painstakingly created for her to help her set up her own home. But the farmhouse was Abraham’s obsession—not hers. If destroying the house made him see reason, and realize he had to prioritize little Thomas’s future, then so be it. Besides, if he was going to keep up his disgraceful relationship with Anna, at the last Mary felt she should get to live in the comfortable house, and enjoy the privileges of being Whitehall’s Mistress. Abraham was certainly not letting her enjoy the privileges that should have come with being Mrs. Woodhull.  Setting her work in her lap, Mary looked up at her guest wearily. “I’m terribly sorry. You asked a simple question about how I met my husband, and you received a rather disgraceful and long reply. I hope you will forgive me.” She glanced at the teacup sitting at her guest’s elbow and leaned forward to take the teapot in both hands. “Allow me to refill your cup—and turn our discussion toward more interesting topics at the same time.”

[wandixx]

DPxDC WEEK 2024

Day 2: "There is only so much you can do for the dead"

Trigger warning: mention of character death (who would have thought xD)

Something was off. Not enough to call it wrong, but eno8gh to be an obvious break in routine. M’gann could feel it in her bones.

Not only was Phantom still with them, in the Mountain, even though everything mission related was over, he was nervous too. The one sure thing about Phantom was that he didn't get nervous, no matter if he faced Batman, Light or almost god-like ghosts, he took them on with an easy smile and he always went back to Amity Park as fast as he could after mandatory Young Justice activities.

Rest of the Team caught onto it too, but they put on a good show of looking relaxed and unbothered. Wally went off to storm the kitchen, Robin and Artemis dropped on the couch, only feet and told of the ponytail visible over the backrest. Kaldur and Conner took armchairs, either reading (or rather holding the book opened on the random page) or nodding off (sitting with his eyes closed). Normally M’gann would either drift to the kitchen or get whoever occupied the couch to make some space for her, but as it was, she kept standing so Phantom would feel less awkward from his place by the door. He looked like he considered bolting and ever coming back. M'gann smiled at him.

She liked Phantom. He was kind and funny, always beyond helpful. He wasn't the best at combat, be it aerial or on the ground, but he was willing to listen and learn. He was a good listener. He understood her struggle with Mars better than she expected anyone on Earth. He had a pretty smile.

There was no sign of it now.

“So…” Phantom started and everyone whipped around to look at him. Even Wally “coincidentally“ got back from the kitchen right at that moment (M’gann called him, like he asked) “I know it's not something we do, but uhm… do you maybe have a spare room I could borrow on Monday? Soundproof if you have it?”

Robin dropped back down, but turned on his wrist computer and jumped between some pages. M’gann didn't see a point in that, since they obviously had spare soundproof rooms, but she kept quiet. Robin usually knew what he was doing.

“No problem, why though?”

Phantom winced, rubbing the back of his neck. M'gann's nose wrinkled when she sensed a tangled mess of his feelings but she (barely) stopped herself from looking deeper. He wouldn't like it in the slightest.

Small red dot blinked from Robin's computer. He was recording it. Smart move.

“It's… it's a bit… ugh, I don't know how to even start”

“Take your time”

“I've been taking my time for two weeks, it's time I actually say it” he groaned, rubbed his face so hard it got a little bit greener and started again “Apparently, ghosts have this thing called Death Day and mine is coming. During this time, I'll re-live… re-die… re-experience my death and then just lie unresponsive for a few hours. It's supposed to lessen with time, but it's my first so… you know”

Everyone froze for a moment. It's not that they didn't know that Phantom was a ghost and ergo that he died, but… it was easy to forget when he had so many powers that for M’gann saw as normal, it was easy to forget with the way he bled, it was easy to forget with how he talked about his live still in present tense, it was easy to forget with how painfully normal he tried to be all the time.

But then he'd say something and make them remember. No matter how many times it happened, it was never easier to remember.

“That's… rough,” Wally muttered awkwardly.

“Yeah. I'm kinda scared actually.”

“No shit, it sounds terrifying even as a concept. Though, why soundproof?” Artemis asked, more curious than demanding. Phantom curled in on himself, looking and feeling like he needed only a slightest trigger to fully disappear.

“I will be screaming. Of course, I don't remember the time I actually died, but I was told I screamed, really loud. I don't want you to hear it. No need for you to feel guilty over something that already happened”

This felt… weird and M’gann wanted to elaborate but then Phantom’s phone buzzed and in five seconds flat he was out with a last yell of:

“Something came up in Amity, gotta go!”

***

Pshshshksh

“Hey Phantom, we've got an idea about your D Day”

“Never call it that again, I swear to God Kod Flash”

“Alright, alright. But do you want to hear our idea?”

“Shoot”

“We thought we could get you something for your grave. Aqualad reached out to some contacts to learn more about ghost stuff and apparently it should help”

“Huh, that's nice. There is only one problem”

“Yes?”

“I don't have a grave”

***

They were supposed to have a free afternoon, they already got all adults to back off, even Robin went to convince Batman to cancel all of the training and missions planned. They didn't explain why. Phantom hadn't said a word about adults, it felt like a betrayal to mention it outside of their circle.

They were supposed to have a free afternoon, so they could keep Phantom safe and be close in case he needed anything even if he said he'd rather have them as far as he could. They weren’t going to listen in of course, but there was no way they'd stay away.

They were supposed to have a free afternoon, but then, right after Phantom showed up, alarms started blaring, because it had to be the day when there was an emergency in Happy Harbour and they were the only ones on the watch. Because of course there was.

And of course Phantom went with them despite the protests, waving them off by saying his Death Day shouldn't start for a bit longer.

It wasn't reassuring.

Especially not with how he stumbled halfway through the hangar and was loopy in a way M’gann could sense without even a psychic glance in his direction.

“When exactly is your Death Day? Like, do we have hours or minutes?” Conner asked, clearly worried about his friend.

Phantom leaned awkwardly on the rough wall, trying and failing to look relaxed and casual instead of barely keeping himself upright.

“I'm not quite sure honestly–”

“WHY THE HELL YOU WENT ON THE MISSION THEN!!!”

Robin, maybe a bit frantically, waved at the ghost to make him follow.

“Chill Artemis, please. My senses are already going haywire, I would really appreciate it if everyone stuck to their indoor voice. Death Day mess starts only when I'm feeling safe, so don't worry, it wouldn't hinder the rescue”

“That's literally not the point but you seem out of it right now, we will talk when you're lucid again,” Artemis sighed, and nodded at M’gann who raised Phantom off the floor after he stumbled on the even ground for the third time.

They were following Robin, who was posturing confidence while he led the way to the room he picked, but without the usual bounce to his step. Wally was on Phantom’s other side with a plate of cookies he somehow got in the meantime, as if it gave him any purpose to follow other than worry, while everyone else trailed behind, not bothering with even a thin veil to cover their concern.

Even Phantom caught onto that, despite being almost loopy enough to start some deep philosophical debate with the next “incredibly intelligent looking” shadow, but kept it to himself. As far as M’gann could tell without going in deeper, he seemed happy if moved by all of their attention.

“How else can we help you?“ Kaldur asked, growing more and more angry with silence and inability to do anything of use.

“N'thin’” ghost slurred “Lithewally. ‘m suwe you want t’ help buh… buh… ‘m already dead, you c’n't do ‘nythin’. You c'n't save muh. No ned f’r you t’ see it. F'rget ‘bout it”

Nobody said anything to that, because what could they say?

Robin opened the door solemnly and M’gann carried Phantom over to the bed while everyone else came in, dragged in by both concern and morbid curiosity. Phantom refused to settle in though, desperately looking at each of them.

“Please, promise you'll forget about that” he begged again, in the surprising moment of lucidity.

“We will” Someone lied.

“Thanks. Now go,” Phantom said with a choked up smile before going limp like a puppet without strings. For a long moment nobody moved, just staring as Phantom’s body laid unmoving, as if they were watching a car accident that they just couldn't drag their eyes away from.

“Rigor mortiss is settling in” Artemis posted out with horrible emptiness in her voice. Robin suddenly looked ill. Wally put down the cookie plate on the nightstand with a loud clatter, before booking it out of there and dragging Artemis and Kaldur out with him. M’gann caught Conner and Robin, both still to stunned to move on their own, and lead them out at much slower but still quite hasty pace.

First gut wrenching scream rang out before the door fully closed.

There was no way they'd ever forget that.

[primalsouls]

your eyes

'malipo' kinich x m!reader

I don't care how long it takes As long as I'm with you I've got a smile on my face

theme: general, fluff

warning: none, i think, maybe a bit ooc?

summary: (name) has been crushing on a certain saurian hunter for a while already and wayna was getting tired of just watching him stare at the hunter with loving eyes with no plans of making a confession. just how long until kinich notices?

notes: got some inspiration lol i finally got kinich a couple of nights ago xD I was so happy, so I started writing this fic for him lol hope you like it! reblog & comments, any feedback is appreciated!

(colored) eyes stared at the back of a certain saurian hunter. he was talking to one of the tribe’s elders. (name) sighed. a longing gaze watching the dendro user walk away with a small bag of mora in his hands, his annoying companion yapping away beside him about any little trait he could use to berate the other. with kinich out of sight, (name) returned to sorting through a box full of gems but another figure blocked his way, startling the young seller.

“you keep staring at him like that, he’ll feel holes burning in the back of his head.” joked the tribe's chief Wayna, a playful smirk displayed on his features. (name)’s cheeks burned, a pinkish hue decorating across them. “c’mon, when are you going to tell him? you’ve been pinning him since the day you came from Inazuma.” wayna added with a tilt of his head and his arms crossed firmly over his chest. (name) glared at him lightly, smacking the chief’s arm while gesturing to shush. 

“shut up! you can’t say that aloud.” (name) huffed, walking over to the chief to return to his latest shipment. part of him regretted telling wayna about his secret crush on the dendro hunter. well, more like the older man found out within the first few weeks after (name) arrived in huitztlan and got rescued by kinich and the self-centered dragonlord k'uhul ajaw in a near-death attack by some of the wild saurians. Wayna, of course, teased the inazuman merchant for a while about his little secret crush on the hunter after promising not to spill it out to anyone else, especially on kinich, or worse, ajaw. but wayna was getting a little tired of the electro user just staring at the guy whenever he was around. it had been almost half a year since (name) came to natlan. he was surprised kinich didn’t sense those yearning glances… yet. maybe he already noticed but doesn’t bother looking into it. maybe he didn’t. wayna was curious now. 

wayna sighed, shaking his head. “young people these days.” he said, looking over the seller roamed through his shipment. “you two aren’t staying any younger. you should confess, (name).”

“and for what? to get rejected? get made fun of and berated by the oh-so-great dragonlord k’uhul ajaw?” (name) said through gritted teeth, annoyance sipping into his tone. “i’ve rather died in the night kingdom than confess my feelings to kinich.” wayna winced at the last part of (name)’s statement. not wanting to get electrocuted, wayna simply patted (name)’s head and walked away to attend to other matters in the tribe. the merchant clicked his tongue before moving around his little shop to display the new various gems he received from kirara. as he pulled out another small box with more gems stored inside it, (name) noticed a pretty gem that had a familiar color of a familiar pair of eyes. oh, great. now kinich was beginning to affect his line of work. maybe he should confess… but how? no, maybe he shouldn’t. his feelings are only going to get hurt and he would have no choice but to move back to inazuma. archons, his mind tends to be exaggerating. 

(name) shook his head. maybe next time. when he has enough courage to confess his pining feelings. 

the gem matching kinich’s eyes was too pretty. (name) had no choice but to make it into a bracelet. it looked beautiful. just like kinich. ugh. he just can’t get rid of him. The saurian hunter kept plaguing his mind every day and night. his heart raced at just the mention of his name. (name) frowned. he put the bracelet away in his pockets as he walked down the dirt path leading to the scions of the canopy. he was still a long way from home. (name) had a delivery he needed to do personally, to make the gems the customer asked for delivered safely and he did so by delivering them himself. he should have just hired kirara. it was a long walk. too long. 

“you pathetic, lizard-brain worm! you dared tried to defy the almighty dragonlord k’uhul ajaw!? you truly dared to invite the wrath of the almighty dragonlord k’uhul ajaw, a sovereign of the nation of flames!”

(name) paused. he recognized that voice. that aggravating voice. even from this distance, he could feel it getting under his skin. but if ajaw was nearby… does that mean he was too?

biting his lower lip back, (name) debated eavesdropping into their conversation. he shouldn’t but… archons, he sounded like a creep thinking this, he wanted to see kinich. it had been almost a week since he last saw him. it was just a little glance. that’s all. 

quietly walking over behind a tree, (name) peeked over the trunk. ah, there he was. standing tall with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed as he let ajaw talk his ears off. but it wasn’t just him there. the legendary traveler and their companion paimon were there, too. (name) honestly didn’t pay attention to the other three. His longing gaze was set on the dark-haired dendro user. 

wow. how can a human being like him be so pretty and strong-willed?

(name) sighed with a heavy heart and blinked. but when he looked over to where kinich stood, said hunter was gone. oh, no. the other three were still arguing with one another, so where had kinich gone to?

“i’ve seen the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice.” a voice spoke lowly behind him. (name) let out a small, frightened shout at the sudden presence of kinich behind him. his eyes widened. his face flushed brightly. his words quickly registered into his mind before shaking his hands in defend. 

“wha-wha-what are you ta-talking about?” (name) cursed mentally for his nervous stutter, his (colored) eyes looked anywhere but at the saurian hunter. 

“that longing look in your eyes… noticed it for a while now.” kinich answered, uncrossing his arms as he took a step closer to (name), who instead took a step behind. and they continued for a bit until his back met the tree, kinich never breaking eye contact. 

(name)’s brows furrowed, his anxious gaze staring down at the ground beside him. a hand went into his pocket where the bracelet was, trying to see comfort from it. 

getting no response back, kinich tilted his head as he leaned his face closer to (name). he was a few inches taller than him, finding the little height difference endearing. “started noticing it after the first month you stayed in the canopy. the way you have this yearning look in your eyes. they’re always set on me. you wouldn’t even flinch whenever i caught your stare.” oh, no. (name) inwardly groaned. he must have zoned out as he stared openly at the claymore wielder. the merchant wanted to dig a hole and died in it out of embarrassment. so kinich knew for half a year. how humiliating. 

“i-i didn’t mean to… i’m sorry. i just, um.. I…” (name) was at a loss for words. he was sure his face was as red as those dendrobiums that appeared around the shipwrecks in nazuichi beach. his heart beat so fast, he was afraid it was going to burst out of his chest. part of him hoped so to avoid this worst-case scenario. 

kinich shook his head at the unfinished apology. “there’s no need to say that.” he started, his own gaze now looking at the tree behind (name)’s back. “i’ve…been having the same longing look, too… towards you. for a while now.” kinich said, pulling himself together to look into (name)’s eyes, after said seller found the courage to do so too. he stared down at the other with a small intense look in his eyes before shifting his gaze back towards the trio he left behind. “i’m not busy right now. ajaw is busy with a couple of behavioral teachers right now, so… would you like to take a walk back to the canopy?” kinich offered his arm towards (name). The electro user stared at him in shock before smiling timidly, taking his arm in his own. 

“that will be lovely.” (name) had a feeling wayna would be too surprised the moment they arrived at the tribe. his smile grew a bit, already feeling the teasing miles away. at the very least, things turned out in a good light, unlike what his overthinking mind had clouded inside his head. (name) was happy with this outcome.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Can you write something with young!Maverick?

Something like where they meet and she has heard about his reputation (he's the type to only stay a few nights and then move on to the next girl). So, when one night, he approaches her all smiley and flirty (and maybe a little shy and cute) she thinks that's exactly what he wants from her - to take her home for a night of sex just to move on to other people the next day. And, even though she has developed feelings for him, she accepts it, albeit with no expectation that she will become anything other than just another one he spent a night with or that it was anything other than just sex and fun. So, imagine her surprise when he starts acting the exact opposite towards her from what she expected - always wanting to be with her everywhere, skipping nightlife to be with her, being super clingy and loving, etc, etc. She doesn't believe he has feelings for her but she just can't understand his behavior. She starts to feel overwhelmed because her feelings for him only get worse and she fears the day when he will stop giving her that kind of attention (maybe she thinks this is just a harmless game for him, where she is the shiny new toy he is getting to know until she no longer interests him that much). She confronts him, confesses her feelings, gets angry and tells him to stay away. He desperately tries to tell her about his feelings for her, that he has always been in love with her and has tried to get closer to her through everything he has done because he didn't know what else to do. She doesn't believe him and it's basically him desperately trying to prove his love for her and all that cute stuff with a really happy ending 💖❣️

I also imagined a lot of cinematic chase scenes, inspired by that sand chase in There Are Rules and the f14 airport scene in Altitude 🤣🤣 so there's that. Lots of desperate, all-consuming love, perhaps ending with a love making scene that includes it all? Making desperate, passionate and hungry love. Someone so in love that they don't even know what to do, whether to cry or laugh.

You could also include a classic “misunderstanding scene” that unearths deep-rooted jealousy, but is it not what it seems? Lol it's all very cliché but honestly, it's the best shit in the world when it's written by someone who knows what they're doing, I live for desperate love.

I know this is extra long but hopefuly you'll be able to make it, I simply love your writing. Thank you. ❣️❣️

Oooh what a fun request! Thank you so much for sending this in!! I hope you don't mind, I kind of see this as a series rather than a one-shot, just because there's a lot to cover XD

Best of the Bad Boys

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

CW: mild angst, swearing, fluff, allusions to sex

WC: ~2000

Masterlist

“That’s Maverick. Maverick Mitchell.”

You tear your gaze away from the animated man near the bar, throwing his arms around wildly as he describes some aerial trick he’s no doubt performed just that morning. You know exactly who he is, and yet, you turn to your friend jadedly and say, “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

She gives you a sardonic smile and skeptically scoffs. “Right. Like your father’s never mentioned his name.”

You shrug, glancing back at the pack of fighter jocks crowding the front of the establishment, each one admittedly a high-flier in his own right – pun intended. But Maverick… Maverick still manages to stand out. “He talks about all of them,” you reply nonchalantly, adding, “It’s not like I sit there and listen.”

“Why are you staring, then?”

You blink away, executing an elaborate eyeroll as you do, and fix your friend with a serious expression. “I can’t look?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“They’re nice to look at.”

Your friend nods in approval. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Doesn’t matter what his name is. What any of their names are. They’ll be gone in a couple of weeks.”

“Perfect fling material, if you ask me,” your friend wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“No thanks,” you respond with a grimace. Every couple of months, a fresh assortment of aviators arrives at Top Gun, ready to take on the world. Already the finest pilots in their respective squadrons, they are sent to train at the most elite fighter tactics school on the Pacific seaboard. Their egos soar higher than their jets and their heads are always in the clouds.

You see the various groups come and go – the program is only several weeks long – but it’s always entertaining to watch them transform over the course of their training. It’s why you frequent the officer’s club rather than any of the other pubs in the area. That and the cheap drinks.

“Probably for the best,” your friend sighs dramatically. “He’s got a reputation.”

You purse your lips, watching Maverick smile at the waitress as she distributes another round of drinks among the officers. You know about that too. “Point him out to me,” you say, as though you have no idea whom the conversation is about.

Your friend leans into the table and discreetly aims her finger in Maverick’s direction. “The pretty one,” she mutters.

You let out a small chuckle. “They’re all pretty.”

Your friend shakes her head. “Not that pretty.”

“Not that pretty,” you agree musingly. You make an effort not to fall for the top guns of Top Gun and, until Maverick, you haven’t had much trouble upholding that rule. But everything about him, from the squint of his eyes when he laughs to the radiant warmth of his smile, not to mention his muscular arms, makes your heart skip a beat.

And then he pivots in his stool and his gaze, coincidentally, lands on you. You hastily look away, hoping he didn't noticed you staring, and start to fiddle with the pearls of your necklace. Several moments later, you slowly lift your eyes to check if he’s still looking.

Your heart nearly springs up into your throat when you see that he is. His mouth quirks upward slightly before he gives you the kind of smile that says he’s confident you’ve already noticed him.

You don’t smile back. You’re not about to engage in this dance. You do not associate with pilots. Your friend, on the other hand, is all for the naval aviator experience.

“He’s looking at you,” she whispers excitedly.

“Stop,” you warn her sternly. “I’m not interested.”

“Well, I am,” she urges. “Let’s go talk to them. I like the blond one.” But before you can refuse for a second time, your friend mutters, “Oh god, never mind. They’re coming to us!”

You look at her in alarm and then gulp as several of the men from the bar approach your table. You glance up at them with raised eyebrows.

“Hello,” Maverick says, looking directly at you. He presses his lips together into a vexingly endearing sideways smirk.

When you don’t respond, your friend chimes in excitedly. “Hello, hello! Welcome!” she exclaims, as though she’s receiving guests for a dinner party. “I’m Susan. Hello!”

You eye her moodily as she motions for the newcomers to join the two of you at the table.

“Mind if I sit here?” Maverick asks, pointing to the seat next to you.

You meet his gaze reluctantly. “Knock yourself out,” you respond coolly. You’re still annoyed that he caught you staring and you intend to make it clear that you are not just some girl he can charm into bed.

Maverick’s smirk widens somewhat, as though he’s not quite buying the act. He takes a seat beside you while one of his friends starts chatting up Susan who seems very much to be enjoying the attention.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Maverick says, leaning over slightly so that he could speak more discreetly. “Slider, here, wanted to get to know your friend. And I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch him crash and burn.”

You glance at Maverick dubiously. “That’s why you’re here?”

Maverick looks at you, then, and his gaze drifts languidly over the features of your face. “Would you prefer a different reason?”

Ignoring the frantic stutter of your heart as his eyes settle on yours, you shrug and look away, taking a sip of your drink. If only he knew who your father was, he wouldn’t be so bold. “I would prefer honesty.”

“Okay,” he says, resting his forearm on the table. “Honestly? I couldn’t leave without meeting you.”

You glance back at him hesitantly, not sure how to react. “Why?” you ask, trying to control the embarrassing tremor in your voice.

Maverick drops his head and lets out a small chuckle. “I just couldn’t,” he says. “That’s as honest as I’m going to get.”

You eye him tentatively, wishing he weren’t so dangerously good-looking. His sheepish smile almost makes you forget that he dates women for sport.

But the longer Maverick sits by your side, the less important his apparent promiscuity becomes. And when the two of you wind up in the back alley behind the officer’s club, wrapped in each other’s arms, you aren’t overly concerned about the future outlook of this particular liaison. Something about the way he kisses your neck convinces you that some moderate heartache might just be worth it.

Maverick weaves his fingers through yours and lifts his arm over your head, pressing the back of your hand into the brick wall behind you. He cradles the back of your head with his other hand as his mouth moves hungrily beneath your jawline. You let out an audible sigh and he pins you even more firmly against the wall, as though the sound you made has aroused him further.

And despite your every intention to just kiss for a while before taking your leave – because you don’t do flyboys – Maverick has managed to change your mind without speaking a word. You want to tell him that you’re flattered but no thank you, instead, you breathe, “come back,” when he finally pulls away.

Maverick smirks at you and tugs on the hand he’s still holding so that you’re drawn directly into his arms. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers.

You wrap your arms around his body, flattening yourself against him like you mean to be absorbed. And he folds around you like a cocoon, his arms enveloping you so securely, you barely have to hold yourself upright. He moves backward, pulling you after him toward his bike.

…

“We fucked,” you tell Susan the moment she puts her car in park.

She looks over at you with wide eyes and an even wider mouth as her jaw literally drops. “You and Maverick?” she shrieks.

You wince anxiously and look around, making sure nobody heard her exclamation. Then you roll up your window and nod for her to do the same. “Keep it together, Susan,” you hiss. “We’re behind enemy lines.”

Susan grimaces apologetically but the remorse is fleeting and, before you know it, she’s eagerly bouncing in her seat. “As if you’ve been blabbering on about a fender bender for half an hour and drop this bomb right before you have to go!” she whispers feverishly. You give her a grievous look which she expertly ignores. “Was he good?”

You sigh. “He was fine,” you say curtly, still uncomfortable sharing the details of last night’s encounter while sitting in the parking lot outside Hangar 1.

Susan appears disappointed. “Just fine?”

You glance around once more and then respond quietly, “He was very good.”

“I fucking knew it!” Susan yelps, tapping you on the knee excitedly. “Tell me more!”

“Later,” you say. “I have to meet my dad, remember?”

She nods. “I’ll pick you up in half an hour?”

“Thanks, Suz,” you respond. “You’re a life saver.”

…

Your father, Top Gun’s very own Viper, paces back and forth as you sit in one of the chairs before his desk. He’s trying to keep his cool. “You sure you’re not hurt?” he asks again.

You nod tiredly. You’ve had a hell of a day.

Viper sighs moodily and shakes his head at you as though he’s not convinced.

It’s at exactly this moment that there’s a knock on his door and, as you begin to rise from your chair to leave your father to his duties, Maverick enters his office.

You freeze, meeting his gaze in alarm. Maverick, in turn, stops in his tracks, gaping at you from the doorway, forgetting even to salute his superior.

“Lieutenant,” Viper says. “You need something?”

Maverick, who seems unable to look away from you, stammers, “Do – I – uh…”

“Maverick,” Viper says sternly, and Maverick finally glances in his direction.

“Commander Metcalf,” Maverick says, a little dazed as though he’s surprised to find Viper in his own office.

“Speak, Lieutenant. I don’t have all day,” Viper grumbles, still irritable from the news he’s received during your visit.

Maverick, who seems unable to recall why he’s even come, gulps nervously and glances back at you again.

“Okay, well, thanks dad,” you say quickly. “I’ll be off now.”

Maverick’s face slowly morphs into a visage of terror as he realizes who you are and what, in fact, it means for him to have had relations with the commander’s daughter. He watches you in horror, beginning to mouth the word ‘dad’ before he catches himself and leaves his mouth hanging open on the ‘a’.

“How will you get home?” Viper asks you, not paying attention to Maverick’s reaction.

“Susan’s picking me up,” you respond.

Viper sighs again. Then, he sighs in Maverick’s direction. “Maverick, meet my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, this is Lieutenant Mitchell, recent Top Gun graduate and a helluva pilot. Hopefully, soon to be one of our newest instructors. If he finally remembers why he’s here, that is.”

Maverick glances anxiously between your face and Viper’s and then holds his hand out to you. “Pleased to meet you,” he says courteously, his eyes resting on yours for a significant moment.

You give him a tight smile and then give your father a hug. “I’ve got to go.”

Viper shakes his head all over again. “I still can’t believe that bastard hit you.”

“Who hit you?” Maverick looks over at you sharply, suddenly on high alert.

“Nobody – the other driver.” You exhale wearily, not too keen on repeating the story for a fourth time in one day. “I was in an accident –”

“Are you okay?” Maverick asks, immediately taking a step toward you.

“I’m fine, totally fine,” you assure him, taking several steps backward until you feel the doorknob at your spine. “I just need some rest.”

“We’ll sort out the car tomorrow,” Viper says.

“Hey, at least it wasn’t a jet, right?” you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Neither Viper not Maverick is amused by your humor, however, so you reach behind and pull open the door.

“Okay, well, bye dad! Mav – uh – Lieutenant Mitchell.”

Maverick stares after you as you retreat behind the door, still somewhat speechless.

“Tell Susan to drive carefully!” your father calls.

“Will do!” you call back.

Finally, Maverick speaks again. “I, uh” – he clears his throat – “I could give her a ride, sir.”

You pause in the doorway while your father purses his lips, considering the offer. Joke’s on him, of course, since Maverick has already given you one – just last night.

Read Part 2

Maverick Tag List:

I have no idea when this list got so long but the rest of it will be in the comments. Hope I got everyone, let me know if I missed you! As always, let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my Mav works!

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@gingerbreadandpaper

[puffcap-factory]

Of Vines and Grapes (Diluc x Reader)

Diluc x fem!reader; fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, established relationship (marriage), heartwarming. Diluc is a gentle sunlight.

You had small arguments this past few days with Diluc, and since he was busy with work and hadn’t got the time to sort it out, you planned on giving a little gift for him to lift his mood.

Kaeya appeared as a cameo btw

Words: 2.6k

Notes: 

It’s been a while! The draft of this fic had been resting since like a week ago, but yesterday I decided to continue it, only to realize that April 30th would be his birthday lol. And the funny thing is his birthday art somehow falls perfectly to the setting of this story purely by coincidence xD

Anyways, enjoy the story! :D

•~•~•~•

You twirled your cup with one hand, the sweet aroma of grape juice filling your senses as your eyes shone towards the purple liquid. You could tell the freshness and the sweet scent emanating from your glass, a freshly handpicked grape juice.

“No wonder Diluc dotes on you so much, huh…”

You looked up at Kaeya, who was sitting casually in front of you, one hand supporting his chin as he smiled at you.

“Well, it’s just pure coincidence that I prefer grape juice rather than wine.”

“That’s not my point…,” he exhaled amusedly. “How unfortunate that you miss out on the fun in wine tasting, though.”

You were never a fan of wine in the first place, as you had always preferred something sweeter – like fruit juice. Although Kaeya sometimes teased you about your childish preferences, you were really keen on these drinks. 

This wasn't the reason you initially grew close to Diluc, though. However, upon discovering your likings towards grape juice, he granted you the liberty to manage your own section of the vineyard, specifically cultivated for grape juice rather than wine. You took the opportunity to try experimenting with different soils and fertilizers – much to your own curiosity, hoping to yield a slightly different taste with each attempt.

And now, one of the freshly picked grapes rested in your hand—sweet, velvety, with a hint of sourness, just as how you liked it.

“Mm, I'm sure I'm not missing out on anything,” you smiled as you stood up from your seat. Kaeya shrugged playfully in response.

You had been working as a librarian alongside Lisa in the Favonius Library, although you were not a member of the Knights of Favonius yourself. Though your works – well, practically circulating among them. Just like this evening, you were seated in Angel's Share, as Kaeya had requested some documents from you.

Business matters aside, you lingered a bit longer, planning to craft your own drink from the new batch of grapes you had brought to the tavern, intending it as a gift for your beloved.

You went up to the counter, where Charles had allowed you to enter. Kaeya followed you and sat across you on the counter seat. 

“So, how have things been lately?” Kaeya mused, observing as you gathered your mixtures.

You sighed at his question, shifting your gaze from Kaeya to the table. Truth be told, it had been somewhat tense these past few days. Diluc had been occupied with his immense work, and you two did have some petty arguments – mainly fueled from the work stress. While most of them ended with either of you giving up on the argument, you hadn’t had a proper talk with him.

“Well, it’s... alright, I suppose,” you attempted to downplay it.

Kaeya raised an eyebrow, sensing your change in demeanor. “Your expression suggests otherwise.”

Ah, right, he was good at reading people. 

“…I mean, he’s pretty busy lately, and we had few disagreements in these past few days, so…,” you reluctantly admitted, lowering your voice as you added fresh mint leaves into the glass as a finishing touch. “That’s why I’m preparing this drink for him as a small gift. There’s a new batch of freshly picked grapes this morning. I hope he’ll like it.”

You then handed the mixture of drink you had mixed to him – a fizzy, sparkling grape juice. “Try.”

Kaeya’s gaze lingered on your face for a moment, before taking the glass and took a sip of it. A playful smile appeared on his face as he set the glass down. 

“Too sweet for my liking.”

You shot him a sulking glare, which he returned with a grin.

“…But, I’m sure he’ll love it,” he reassured, his tone lower than usual. “He can be a bit of a pain in the ass at times, I know, but he’ll definitely appreciate your effort. I know his taste.” He winked playfully at you. 

You let out a small laugh at him. “Okay, I’ll believe you this time, Kaeya.”

•~•~•~•

You made your way back, carrying a selection of ingredients from Angel's Share, having obtained Charles' permission beforehand. Upon entering the manor, Adelinde greeted you with a warm smile.

“Welcome back, my lady,” she said warmly, helping you with some of the items you had brought. “Oh, and what’s this?”

“Some ingredients for a grape juice mix,” you explained, removing your jacket and hanging it on the rack. “Diluc’s been pretty occupied lately, so I thought making him a drink might give him a little boost.” You grinned sheepishly.

“How thoughtful of you,” Adelinde smiled, though her expression faltered momentarily. “…Unfortunately, the young master will be home pretty late today, as far as I know.”

“Oh,” you replied, unsurprised. It wasn’t uncommon for him to return home late or become absorbed in his work until the late hours in his study. “That’s alright, I’ll just prepare it when he’s back.” 

“Of course, please feel free to come to the kitchen anytime,” Adelinde bowed before excusing herself. After dinner, you made your way up to your shared bedroom. 

As you showered, your mind drifted back to the events of the past few days. The arguments you had few days ago was pretty trivial, honestly, with the recent one being two days back. Yet, as you attempted to assert your point, Diluc’s cold dismissal of your concerns stung. The tension that followed had left you feeling upset, but you chose to let it go rather than push the issue further.

Yesterday, you didn’t have the chance to talk through about it as the interactions were limited to brief exchanges of good mornings and goodbyes, leaving the unresolved tension to linger. By the time he returned home, you were already fast asleep. 

Though you were no longer upset now, you wanted to clear the tension between you and him. Hence, you had prepared a small surprise for him today: your original crafted grape juice drink. With the start of the grape harvest season yesterday, you wanted him to try the grapes that you had tended yourself. 

Settling comfortably onto the bed, you took out a book you had been reading, waiting for Diluc's return. Around 11 pm, you heard footsteps approaching from the hallway. The bedroom door creaked open as Diluc entered.

"I'm back."

"Welcome home," you replied, remaining seated on the bed as he went changing clothes near the closet and then heading to the bathroom.

"I'll be continuing my work in the study after this. It might get late, so you can go ahead and sleep," he informed you before disappearing into the bathroom for a shower.

As expected, he still had work to attend to. Seizing the opportunity, you swiftly made your way to the kitchen to prepare the drink. It didn’t take much time as you had prepared it previously at Angel’s Share. 

You went back up to his study, placing the drink on the side table near his work area carefully, before another idea struck you. Instead of interrupting him mid-work, why not leave a note for him to read anytime?

Grabbing a piece of paper, you quickly penned a brief message:

“Here’s a drink for you, made with freshly picked grapes! I know you have been busy lately, and I’m sorry about the day before. Hope this can get you a little boost for your work :) Love, y/n”

Neatly folding the paper, you placed it beside the glass before slipping out of the room. Walking on the hallway, you glanced downstairs from the second floor and saw Diluc – already out of the shower, talking with Adelinde. Good, he didn’t seem to notice your presence in the study. With a sense of relief, you returned to the shared room to continue reading your book, before falling asleep not long after. 

•~•~•~•

The next morning, you stirred awake to the gentle sunlight filtering through the curtains, warming your face. With a soft groan, you shifted toward Diluc's side of the bed, only to find it empty. Your heart sank momentarily, assuming he had already left for work, but then you heard the sound of him emerging from the bathroom. Moments later, Diluc appeared, his eyes immediately finding yours as he noticed you had awoken up. He approached the edge of your side of the bed and sat on the side.

“Good morning,” he greeted you with a tender smile, settling beside you.

“Morning,” you replied, still groggy from sleep. “Did you even get any sleep?”

“I did. Don’t worry, love.”

Love. The word, spoken after a period of tension, reassured you, melting away the lingering tension. It seemed he had read your message, after all.

His hand reached out to caress your head, and you leaned into his gentle gesture, a smile gracing your lips. His smile was tender and warm like the sun, a sight you had missed dearly.

Not long after, he withdrew his hand and spoke softly. “I wanted to apologize for the previous day. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

“Oh, um... I'm sorry too, Diluc. I let my frustration get the best of me.” 

“But that doesn't excuse my behavior. I wanted to talk to you yesterday, but my work wasn't finished, and I thought it was already late night. I made you wait... I'm sorry,” he confessed, his expression weighted with guilt.

Diluc was never an expressive person, though he had opened a lot more since you two became a couple. By nature, he was private, and a rather prideful man, too – but you knew his intentions were always genuine. Sometimes, in moments of disagreement, patience was key; he, too, was striving to find common ground. After all, that was what partners should do, and despite his reserved nature, your love for him remained unchanged.

You took a moment to see his face from the side, before you reached out to cup his cheek gently, meeting his eyes with understanding. “Oh, Diluc, it's alright, love.”

His eyes closed briefly, feeling the warmth of your touch. With the sunlight casting a golden glow on his figure, highlighting the contours of his face and the soft strands of his still untied velvet hair, you couldn't help but marvel at his beauty.

Without realizing, you found yourself momentarily speechless, mouth slightly agape, as you admired the scene before you. Diluc noticed your reverie and raised his eyebrows in confusion. “Hm?” he inquired, his expression puzzled.

“Oh—” you chuckled shyly, realizing you had been caught in a moment of awe, “you’re just too beautiful.”

He was a bit taken aback by the sudden compliment and let out a low chuckle. He then shifted slowly to join you on the bed, resting behind you.

“I love you.”

He murmured as he hugged you from behind, his head nuzzling behind your neck.

A warmth spread through your body as his breath tickled your skin. Like the comforting rays of the sun during the day, his displays of affection always had a way of melting your heart, even after all this time.

“I love you too, Diluc,” you whispered softly, gently holding onto his arm and closing your eyes, savoring the moment.

Before long, Diluc, still nestled behind you, spoke up. “The fruit juice was really delicious. I liked it very much. Thank you.”

“Oh, I'm glad you enjoyed it. We can make more together,” you suggested. “…if you're free today, of course.”

“I’m free throughout the day. I've delegated the work to Elzer and the others.”

“Really?” You turned to face him in surprise. It had been weeks since you spent the day together, and you practically couldn’t hide your excitement anymore. Diluc had known that it was a day off for you today, and maybe he had planned this all along.

He nodded, returning your excitement with a smile of his own. “It's a beautiful day. We can pick some grapes if you'd like.”

“Absolutely! And we could have a picnic outside too!”

“Sounds wonderful,” Diluc chuckled, amused by your sudden burst of enthusiasm. “Let’s have breakfast outside, then.”

•~•~•~•

Under the shade of a tree, the picnic sheet was laid out, sunlight warming your feet near the section of the vineyard you tended. A basket overflowed with freshly picked grapes was placed on the mat. Beside it, your much-loved grape-jam pie which Adelinde had brought – apparently it was requested by Diluc yesterday night, according to Adelinde herself – rested atop a small foldable table, accompanied by cups of tea.

You plucked a grape and tasted its sweetness. “Sweet and fresh, just perfect! But this one…” You fed Diluc another grape. “A bit more sour, isn’t it? I had used another fertilizer for this one.”

“Mhm,” Diluc agreed, his gaze filled with adoration as he accepted the grape from your hand.

“Perhaps the sour ones would be better suited for a different type of drink,” you mused as you thought to yourself.

“I’d happily try any creations you come up with,” Diluc remarked as he shifted to the back, leaning back comfortably against the tree trunk, inviting you to rest your head in his lap. “Come here, love.”

You beamed a smile at him before settling onto his lap, his hand moved to cup your cheeks, caressing it gently. 

“Hmm, I could easily fall asleep like this…”

“Then maybe you should,” he said, his tone soft and reassuring. “You don’t get many chances to sleep peacefully outside.”

“But you’ve slept less than me for sure, you should rest too, you know?”

He met your gaze with a gentle smile. “I will, I will.”

As the wind whispered through the leaves and Diluc’s caress lulled you into a drowsy state, you closed your eyes. Just for five minutes, just five–

–Huh.

You opened your eyes, only to realize that you had indeed fallen asleep. It hadn’t seemed too long, though, but you were not sure. You carefully gazed upwards, only to find Diluc sleeping peacefully, his breathing steady as he slept against the tree.

Smiling at the serene sight, you decided to stay still, not wanting to disturb his peaceful slumber. Your gaze drifted to the trees and skies above, and before you knew it, you shifted your head to the side, inadvertently waking Diluc up. He was always a light sleeper, wasn’t he?

Stretching his body with a yawn, Diluc checked his wristwatch. "One hour. That was a nice nap."

"An hour??" You sat up, surprised by the length of your unintended rest, while Diluc smiled lazily.

You wanted him to rest more, but spending the entire day sleeping outside wasn't exactly what you had in mind.

“I had a nice nap, thanks to you.” 

"Anytime for you," you replied happily, moving to sit next to him and facing him. A gentle breeze played around you, and you reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear. Diluc tenderly took your hand and pressed a kiss to it, earning a shy smile from you before his hand moved to gently cup your chin, locking eyes with you.

You recognized the familiar longing in his gaze and leaned in, closing the gap between you until your lips met in a tender, blissful kiss.

“I’d love to get more of these from you from time to time,” he murmured softly against your lips.

“The picnic or the kiss?” You teased, a chuckle escaping your lips.

“Both.” 

“Maybe you should try delegating your works more,” you joked.

“Well, that’s been on my mind, for sure,” Diluc replied, his tone thoughtful.

You didn’t expect him to take your joke seriously and frantically explained that he didn't have to do that.

But Diluc laughed tenderly, knowing that the time you spent together was far too precious to skip. 

[sugoi-and-spice]

Taking Care, Taking What's Mine - A "Play Nice" Commission

Summary: A Play Nice AU Chapter, in which, rather than taking the high road and trying to build a real relationship with the girl he's been sextorting for weeks, Tomura Shigaraki baby-traps her instead.

CW: Quirkless!AU, Dub-Con, Smut, Extortion, Baby-Trapping, Forced Pregnancy, Love-Bombing, Manipulation, Power Play, Possessive Shigaraki, Yandere Shigaraki, Morning Sickness, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

AO3 Link

A/N: Happy fucking Father's Day readers!! Lmao! I got this AMAZING commission a while ago to write an AU of my AU (a fanfic writer's dream come true honestly), of Shigaraki baby-trapping MC and well, while it took longer then I meant it to to come out, I'm so glad that I could post it on Father' Day of all days lmao.

Anyway though, this was so much fun to write. Shigaraki has been on the journey of bettering himself for so long in Play Nice now, it was a total blast returning to form and writing him nice and scummy again.

I'd love to do more of these honestly, so as a reminder: I give discounts on Commissions that take place in my AU's.

Play Nice, Burnt Bridges, Step by Step -- all of them. They're super fun for me to write and most of the heavy-lifting of ideating and plotting has already been done for them, so I'm happy to write fics like this for cheaper. :)

Anyway, enjoy some forced parentification on this day of dads. xD

“Hey, hey— are you alright?”

She lifted her head from where she’d been resting it against her gym locker, the coolness of the metal being the first thing to even remotely ease the headache she’d been fighting for the last three days. 

“Yeah, of course,” she tried to force a weak smile as Nejire approached her, clearly concerned, “Why do you ask?

The captain was dressed in her practice suit. And she quickly realized that so were all the other girls, most of them already making their way out the doors to the pool deck. She was the lone straggler who hadn’t even managed to undo her uniform tie yet. Nejire looked over at these girls, and then back to her, wordlessly demonstrating why that should be obvious.

She laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her head, “Okay, I guess I’m feeling a bit under the weather today…”

And that was the understatement of the century. She felt like absolute shit . Piling on top of that stubborn pounding in her head were a pair of really sore tits, a lethargy that stuck with her no matter how much vending machine coffee she chugged, and cramps that had shot straight out of hell and directly into her uterus.

But to be honest, she couldn’t complain too much about these ailments. In fact, she was pretty damn relieved. These were all her tell-tale signs of PMS. They were a little worse than usual this time around sure, but if that was the tradeoff for the relief of not being pregnant, she’d take it in a heartbeat. Her period was only one day late at this point and it had all but paralyzed her with fear.

Of course in retrospect, the fear did seem a bit silly. After all, Shigaraki’s creepy family doctor had warned her there might be some changes.

“I never start patients new to birth control immediately on a Long Acting Reversible Contraception,” he explained, “Especially not teenagers.”

“Why not?” she demanded, “It’s reversible, right? It’s not like you’re tying my tubes or anything.”

“No, but you never know how your body is going to react to the hormonal shift. You could develop acne, weight gain, hair growth—”

“I don’t care about that superficial stuff.”

“... Migraines, blood clots, depression,” he continued, looking at her pointedly.

She looked away, feeling a bit stupid for interrupting him now that he’d listed the more serious side-effects.

“I’m not saying you have to stay on the pill forever. But give it a few months, see how you feel on it. It can help us better determine which long-term birth control is best for your body without any unnecessarily invasive procedures.”

She shuddered at the very thought of being stuck in this set-up with Shigaraki for months. She hoped he’d get bored of her sooner rather than later.

Well, on the brightside, at least this sketchy-ass doctor seemed to be as interested in looking under her skirt as she was having him down there. However, this still left the ever so pertinent issue of:

“Okay, but there’s still the issue of getting the pills. No pharmacy is going to give me these without signed parental consent.” She had the always convenient Japanese purity culture to thank for that.

Ujiko simply smiled and pulled out a wheel of birth control pills from his medical bag right then and there.

“Consider these the same as this appointment,” he said, cupping his hands over hers and placing the wheel firmly into her palm, “ Off the record. ”

And then the rest of the “appointment” had descended into one of extremely thinly-veiled intimidation that bizarrely enough, she’d relied on Shigaraki of all people to save her from. By that point, she’d been scared so shitless she had very little argument left in her to try and reason him into just giving her the damn IUD.

The regret of not standing her ground on the issue did hit her later that night on the train home. Particularly when she thought over the fact that the way they were keeping these pills off the record was by having her pick up her refills through Shigaraki. The idea of giving him even more power over her like that made her feel sick to her stomach. And yes, while logically she knew that he had just as much motivation to keep her from getting pregnant as she did (she had a feeling All for One would not take too kindly to his star successor knocking up a lowly commoner such as herself), she still just had a bad feeling about the whole thing.

So she’d resolved herself on her first refill day to completely lay into Shigaraki for any level of tomfoolery he may get up to in this situation. There would be no forgetting, no being too busy to pick up the pills for her, absolutely nothing. She was ready to rain full fire and brimstone on him if there was even a hint of bullshit.

But to her surprise (and relief), she hadn’t even crossed the threshold of his bedroom before he was tossing a new pack to replace her wheel with. Simple and nonchalant, and then he was just as quick as always to badger her about getting her clothes off already, get on the bed already, break up with your boyfriend already.

It was the same old, same old — for better or for worse. Even if she couldn’t trust Tomura Shigaraki himself, that action had at least ensured that she could trust his own desire for self-preservation.

And that was better than nothing she supposed.

Back in the locker room, Nejire asked her, “Do you think you’re coming down with something?”

She smiled at her friend, joking, “Nothing I don’t come down with every month.”

Nejire tilted her head in confusion for a moment before the lightbulb visibly lit up in her head.

“Ohhhhh,” Nejire nodded sympathetically, “Yeah, Aunt Flow can be a real meanie sometimes, huh?”

She laughed, then winced as the action worsened the throbbing in her head,  “Damn it— you can say that again.”

Nejire’s brows furrowed and she brought a hand to the small of her friend’s back, “Hey, why don’t you take this afternoon off?”

She looked back to her, surprised, “Oh no, I couldn’t…”

“Sure you could!” Nejire chirped, “And honestly, you probably should. We’re working on our weakest strokes today. I had you down to work on your fly.”

Visible dread filled her as she thought about doing that much undulation in her current state.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Nejire laughed, “Seriously, go home. We’ll miss you, but we love you too. So we want you to take care of yourself.”

She debated a little more internally, one other loose thread dropping into her mind’s eye.

“If I do… Do you mind—”

“I’ll let Mirio know,” she shot her a wink as she clarified, “ After practice. I’ll let him know you just need the peace and quiet.”

She smiled at Nejire, genuinely grateful. This. This right here was what made all of the bending over backwards she did to fit in and please others worth it. To be cared about by such a good person. 

The warmth of that care stayed with her all the way out to the school gates, where she was then immediately filled with dread upon realizing that she’d need to go in one of two directions depending on where she was going after school: the train station home, or the walk to Shigaraki’s.

And just which direction she was scheduled to go today.

She let out a long groan, anguished and loud enough to startle a couple members of the going home club that passed her. For once though, she didn’t care about her reputation, she was too focussed on what a goddamn nightmare she was falling into.

She pulled out her cellphone with a sigh. Yes she knew the effort was probably futile, but damn her if she didn’t at least try.

Yup. She could’ve seen that coming from a mile away. She sighed as she shoved her phone back into her bag and started the very slow trek over to Shigaraki’s. 

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” Shigaraki said as he looked her over his doorway, “You look like shit.”

She shot him a wholly unimpressed look as she shoved past him into his bedroom.

“Yeah, I fucking told you.” 

Shigaraki, surprisingly, didn't have anything to say about her tone, even with her brusqueness towards him being more than usual. He just watched her drop down face first onto his bed and curl her legs up into her chest.

She sighed at the slight relief the position gave her. While dealing with Shigaraki’s antics was about the last thing she wanted right now, she supposed that at least she could be grateful for how much closer his apartment was to her school then her own home was. It saved her a good fifty-minutes of white-knuckling a train stanchion to keep down her groans of pain. Now at least she could get the relief of laying down much sooner.

If only for a little bit.

“What’s going on?”

She bristled at Shigaraki’s voice, the unwelcome reminder that she wasn’t going to be able to truly relax right now. And while there didn’t seem to be any entendre or even impatience in his question, the fact that his voice was getting closer to her was enough to make her suspicious.

“My head aches, my back aches, my boobs ache — everything aches,” she grumbled down into his sheets, “And I feel like I’ve been donkey-kicked straight in the uterus.”

“You start your period or something?”

He didn’t sound sarcastic when he asked it, not that typical boy way of asking any time a girl did something they considered “moody”. It was a genuine question. But it irritated her all the same. 

Everything seemed to be irritating her these days.

“About to,” she answered, “It’s like a day late, but it’s definitely coming.”

She felt the bed shift a bit as he sat next to her.

“Are you nauseous at all?”

Her brows furrowed, a bit confused by the interest.

“I guess a little,” she answered, because even though it was mild, there was a certain turn in her stomach that wasn’t unlike motion sickness, “But honestly, I think it’s just from the pain. This has been going on for like three days.”

“Have you taken anything for it?”

She could’ve laughed if she wasn’t so annoyed by the reminder of all her futile attempts to alleviate this. Because of course he was looking for a quick fix so they could fuck already.

“I’ve taken everything for it,” she groaned, “Nothing’s working.”

He just hummed in response, and then she could feel the sheets behind her dip a bit as he repositioned himself. Into what orientation, she wasn’t sure. She was about to turn her head back and ask him what he was doing when she felt his hand featherlight across her hip.

And between her legs.

“No, Shigaraki please,” she whined, pulling he knees closer into her chest, “I’m not kidding, I’m seriously in a lot of pain—”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Tell that to your hand then,” she snapped as his fingers tried to wiggle their way between her clenched thighs.

“I mean I’m not doing anything for me. This is for you.”

“Oh is it now,” she deadpanned.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he insisted, more irritably this time, “Orgasms help with cramps, right?”

She stilled, sufficiently stumped by that particular statement. Because yes, she could say from experience that they absolutely did. She’d spent many a nasty period with her fingers latched to clit to chase that particular path of relief. 

…but why the hell did Shigaraki know that?

She gasped as she suddenly felt the gentle roll of her clit under three fingers. Apparently, in her moments of distracted deliberation, Shigaraki managed to push his hand past the plush lock of her thighs and under the hem of her panties.

“Sh-Shigaraki…” she whined, pushing her elbow blindly and weakly back towards him.

He caught it gently in his free palm and, rather than trying to pin or strain it in whatever which way he desired, like usual, he just held it there. Didn’t even hold it in place really, just shielded himself against its determined path towards his ribs.

“I’m serious,” he said, uncharacteristically soft, “I’m trying to help you.”

She finally mustered up the strength to — despite how much her aching abdomen hated her for it — turn and glower at Shigaraki.

“No funny business?” she pressed.

He settled his own flat expression on her, “When have I ever been funny?”

More times than she’d like to admit honestly, but she got what he was saying here. He was a pretty serious, straightforward person on principle. He didn’t bullshit, he didn’t pull cheap tricks, and, shockingly enough, he didn’t typically lie. Frustrating as it was, Tomura Shigaraki was pretty much always unapologetically himself and he always did what he wanted.

So if he said that he was doing this to help her, then she supposed that she didn't actually have a lot of reason to distrust him.

Plus, his fingers hadn’t stopped their soft, but affective ministrations between her legs, and the pleasant sparks of heated relief they were sending through her were undeniable.

She turned back onto her side with a sigh that was half-exasperation, half pleasure.

“Fine,” she said, throwing back quickly before he got too victorious, “But fuck around and I’ll kick you.”

Shigaraki just chuckled, a soft throaty sound that shouldn’t have sent the chills up her spine that it did, “Yeah, yeah…”

In one motion, careful not to jostle her too much, Shigaraki both pulled her back and scooched himself closer, until her back was nestled snug against his surprisingly firm chest and her head laid in the crux of his bicep.

With this new closeness he was able to be a bit more deliberate with the angle and pressure he used to rub at her swollen sex. And, while she hated to admit it, the increased blood flow between her legs was causing the pressure within her to build quite a bit faster than usual. Enough so that it had her letting go of the tension in her neck and joints — the automatic stress reaction she had to any of Shigaraki’s displays of intimacy — and letting the weight of her head drop fully into his embrace.

A shuddering sigh left Shigaraki at that clear relinquishing of control, of the way she truly let herself lay back and relax into him. It gave him the encouragement he needed to enjoy her to the fullest extent that he wanted her as well, burying his nose deep into her hair. 

He started to stroke wider circles around her, the flats of his fingers never leaving her clit, but now allowing the tips to dip softly into her entrance. He didn’t push them in at all past his first knuckles, just enough to catch some of that growing wetness and spread it all across her fluttering lips.

“A-Ah—” she gasped out, “Sh-shit…”

“Like that?” he rasped, hot against her ear.

She bit her lip, nodding needily, “Mm— Mm-hmm…”

He groaned at the response, doubling down on that motion as he started to stud long, hot kisses down the back of her jaw and neck. The feeling, so gentle and intimate and good in combination to the way he worked her sex, had her unconsciously rocking her hips into his touch, and back into his own.

Vaguely through the haze, she could feel the familiar outline of his stiff cock against the cleft of her ass, but shockingly he didn’t try to grind it against her for relief. If anything actually, when her own hips moved unconsciously back against it, he actually shifted his own hips away, anglind them down so his erection pushed into the bed instead. As if he didn’t want her to feel it, that he was concerned about her feeling pressured by its presence.

She didn’t have the chance to think too much into that though, not when his fingers were coaxing her closer to the edge by the second. The mess between her legs was obscene at this point, through teary eyes she could see the overflow of it spreading wide across her thighs and pooling down in the sheets. 

“God look at you, so fucking wet,” he groaned, lips having made it down to her shoulder and staying there so that he could have a better view of her writhing under his touch, “You needed this, huh? Fucking needed me…”

She buried her face into his arm to muffle her moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an answer, but also not wanting him to stop.

By some act of God, Shigaraki didn’t push for that answer either. She wasn’t sure why he’d abandoned his typical demands and taunts, didn’t threaten to stop until she gave him the verbal submission and begrudging praise he always wanted. Nor did she stop to think about why, she just let the gratitude course through her, spurred further and wider by the waves of heat rushing through her body, threatening — promising — to overflow.

Shigaraki could feel that axiomatic tension in her body, the boiling point it promised, and sped up his hand to stoke the flames.

“You’re close aren’t you? Oh yeah, you’re close…” his kisses turned to nips at her neck between progressively more demanding growls, “Gonna be a good girl and come for me?”

Fuck, hearing those last words spill from his mouth should not have done what it was doing to her. But it was speeding up her peak, and it was speeding it up audibly.

“Yeah, yeah that’s good, really good. Let it go. Go ahead, be a good girl and let it go.”

She cried out, her arching back forcing her face forward and mouth unmuffled as finally, finally her body went blissfully loose, the pain of the past few days overtaken by waves of heat and pleasure. One after the other, her hormone-driven sensitivity wrung out multiple orgasms, and his frantic fingers were happy to work her through each one until she was begging him to stop.

“Good girl, yeah, yeah, just like that. That’s a good girl,” he continued to praise, returning time and again to that phrase he could feel her getting unconsciously excited over, “That’s my good girl…”

It was just a few blurry moments of consciousness after that. She was pretty sure she whined something like “too much” to him at some point, and he whispered back something that she was sure was just utterly debauched right back. Or maybe it was sweet nothings, he had really favored those by the end of this escapade after all. 

Whatever it all was, she supposed it didn’t matter. All that mattered in those seconds of labored breaths and fluttering lashes was the beautiful bliss and relief that finally overtook her body. That allowed her to immediately fall asleep in his arms.

Shigaraki held her there for a long time after. He raked his eyes greedily across her body, letting himself carve every detail deep into his memory. He knew he didn’t need to, not anymore. Her boyfriend, her parents, hell, whether or not she got into Todai with him, it was all a non-issue now. There was no reason for him to lose this anymore. She wasn’t going anywhere in life without him. He was going to be able to revel in this sight for the rest of his life now. And he just couldn’t believe how lucky he was for that.

He chuckled a bit at that. Well, maybe lucky wasn’t the right word. This was all by design after all, weeks of very deliberate planning and deception. It was just like he’d always been taught. It didn’t matter what hand you’ve been dealt — and Tomura Shigaraki had certainly been dealt a shit hand in a lot of ways — a real winner made his own luck. 

Sensei would be mad, Shigaraki knew that much. Everyone would be mad in fact, but he didn’t care. He was just following the fundamental lesson Sensei himself had instilled in him the day they met. 

Take whatever you want, and fuck all the rest.

Several minutes into hearing those sweet deep breaths of unconsciousness from the beautiful girl in his arms, Shigaraki finally peeled his fingers away from her cunt.

And slid a wide hand up to cradle her tummy.

It was dark when she woke up, not a single one of Shigaraki’s many monitors or television lit the windowless room. That was odd for a couple of reasons, the first of which being that the overhead lighting had definitely been on when she’d dozed off. The second of which was that any time Shigaraki wasn’t preoccupied with helping her study or studying her, he was chronically attached to at least one screen, if not multiple, so it was more than a bit odd for him to have zero on. The reason for the lack of blue light however became quickly apparent as her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness.

Shigaraki wasn’t here.

She was totally alone in his room, alone and tucked into his bed. Had he gone to the bathroom or something? But then why would all the lights be off? It seemed like he’d probably been gone for a while. Weird…

She threw off the covers and flipped her legs around with much more ease than she’d done anything over the last three days, much to her relief. However long she’d been out, the sleep had clearly done her some good. The pounding in her head and pelvis had finally ceased, perhaps just in time for her to actually start her period. She did feel some dampness between her legs after all. Although…

Her face heated up as she remembered the much more likely cause of that.

Damn it, she thought with a groan, dropping her head into her hands. She couldn’t believe that she actually let him do that to her, for her. He was going to get entirely the wrong idea from it. The idea that she might actually like him and want to spend time with him, that there was some kind of connection between them that extended past the time she was required to spend with him to keep him satisfied. And she absolutely could not deal with that.

Being his little sex toy was one thing. A demoralizing thing, yes, but a manageable one. She’d seen the way Shigaraki treated things he objectified — games and magazines and the like. He got bored of them quickly. And if she was one of those things in his eyes, then eventually he’d get bored with her too and she’d be free.

If he was attached to her though? Had found connection in her and a desire to keep her in his life? She didn’t even want to consider that nightmare scenario.

She made her way out into the hallway, looking up and down from the empty bathroom on one end of the hall to the top of the staircase on the other. She didn’t have to contemplate the lack of presence on this floor for long though, when she heard Shigaraki’s voice echoing up from downstairs, talking emphatically to Kurogiri, she assumed. 

She couldn’t hear exactly what he was talking about, but whatever it was, he was being particular about it. “Don’t overcook” and “perfect” were a few of the words she managed to catch, so it was about food, maybe? The accompanying sounds of sizzling pans and clanking cookware would certainly support that. As would the smell that suddenly hit her.

It wasn’t an unpleasant smell by any means. In fact, it was salmon, one of her favorites. But for some reason at that moment, the smell hit her with a particular intensity that made her feel overwhelmed.

And really fucking nauseous.

She just barely made it to the toilet at the end of the hall, not even fully down to her knees by the time she was emptying her stomach into the bowl. It wasn’t just a brief moment of sickness either. The bouts were loud and long, she was sure that it echoed throughout the entire apartment. It left her red-faced, skin covered and hair clumped with sweat, not to mention still gagging long after she had nothing left to gag on.

A hand she barely even noticed came to rest on the small of her back in the midst of it all. It was only in the aftermath, spent and dry-heaving that she could process the fact that it was Shigaraki, kneeling at her side, patiently stroking small circles into her clammy skin and encouraging her softly.

“Let it out. Just let it all out.”

She groaned once she finally seemed to have a solid thirty seconds of dry, steady breath. And Shigaraki used that respite to nudge a glass of water into her hands.

“Here.”

She didn’t argue or agree, just took it from him with shaky hands, tossing half of it just into her mouth to swish around and spit the remaining bitterness from her tongue.

 “Drink some of it too.”

She nodded shakily, still too drained and disoriented to be irritated with his telling her what to do, or suspicious of the fact that he was being so nice. 

And still, as she took entirely too long to finish the rest of her water with timid little sips, he just knelt on the ground with her, moving the hand on her back to rest on her knee, thumb rubbing circles into the spot where a bruise would undoubtedly form. 

Finally, after a long, silent stretch, she managed to croak out, “W-What time is it?”

“Only seven,” he answered, “Kurogiri’s got dinner almost ready downstairs. Seared salmon, brown rice, avocado salad—”

She whined, shaking her head roughly at the very implication of food.

“Don’t like salmon?”

“I-I do… It’s just—” she gagged a little as she remembered that smell that had set this all off in the first place, “Th-The smell right now. It’s too much…”

“Oh yeah…” he nodded understandingly, muttering something to himself that she couldn’t quite make out. It sounded kind of like, “Heightened” and “Read about that…”

Her brows furrowed a bit, frustrated and confused. She was getting the feeling that he was really not telling her something.

“W-What?”

Shigaraki just waved her off, “No, that’s fine, that’s fine. Salmon’s not the only thing he made. There’s sauteed spinach, wakame tofu soup, toasted—” 

Jesus Christ, was Kurogiri cooking for an army down there or something? 

Well, whoever it was all for, and as delicious as it all sounded in theory, imagining those foods in practice right now was making her feel sick all over again.

“Mm-mm, Mm-mm!” she whined, shaking her head again.

She didn’t want to risk opening her mouth right now, lest she blow chunks all over the front of Shigaraki’s shirt. Although wouldn’t that be a nice little serving of karma for him…

“You need to eat something,” he insisted, more lecturey than she’d ever heard him, but with a strange gentleness to his voice as well, “And you need to drink some more too. You’re totally dehydrated.”

She shook her head more emphatically at that, which only resulted in her falling forward into his chest. 

He caught her before she could fall any further, scolding her not too harshly, in fact, a bit whimsically, “Is this how you’re gonna be the whole time?”

She pulled her head back to look at him, a confused furrow in her brows that brought the corners of his lips up.

“It’s not a bad look on you to be honest. All weak and petulant,” he brought a hand to pinch lightly at her cheek, “It’s kinda cute actually.”

Her eyes narrowed, finally feeling her stomach steady enough in her to be annoyed. He chuckled, just as amused and endeared by this look as the last. 

“Well how about okayu?” he offered with a patronizing little lilt, “And maybe some ginger tea?”

He clearly wasn’t going to let this go. And infuriatingly, he was right not to. She definitely was in no shape to go home on this empty stomach. 

She sighed.

“Yeah… Yeah okay.”

Going at her own shaking, snailish pace, Shigaraki helped her up onto her legs, pulling her immediately into his side as he led her back towards his bedroom. Normally she’d protest, stick an elbow right into his ribs and storm on ahead of him, but honestly she needed the help right now. So she sucked it up and let him lead her back into his bed. 

But that didn’t stop her from eying him suspiciously as he propped his pillows up behind her and tucked her back in under his comforter, the overall way he doted and fretted over her, even stopping to look back at her one more time from the doorway before he returned downstairs to give Kurogiri the new marching orders.

She dropped her head back against the pillows when finally alone, a bad feeling settling heavier and heavier in her stomach. This was beyond weird, the way he was acting. Sure, the guy was overbearing and constantly demanding of her attention, stupidly needy even. But doting? Not only willing but eager to put her needs ahead of his own? Caring deeply about her actual well-being and not just what he wanted to be her well-being? This was all way too out of character for him.

“…You can tell me. If he bothered you, I mean. N-Not just the Doctor either… If um… If anything’s bothering you.”

She sighed at the memory. Alright, maybe she wasn’t giving him enough credit. He’d shown at least some capability and even interest in her wants and well-being, he wasn’t a complete monster.

But still, all of this? The cooing and the caring and the, erm, servicing even that he’d done? It felt like too much. Like she was missing something really key about it all.

Like something was wrong .

Whether she ended up getting lost in that train of thought for long, or Kurogiri had already had some okayu whipped up downstairs, she wasn’t sure, but she was startled by how quickly it seemed that Shigaraki returned with a breakfast tray in hand. She cocked her head as he set it up over her lap, this was a lot more robust than she was expecting, and, she realized as she examined everything on the tray, a lot more stocked as well.

There was okayu, front and center for her, yes. But also on the tray was another small bowl of soup (looked like the wakame that Shigaraki had mentioned, a thing of plain yogurt (the really fancy kind that came in the glass jars), a glass of orange juice…

And a little dish of four pills. 

Painkillers or antiemetics maybe? They looked more like vitamins…

“Go ahead and start with the okayu if you want,” Shigaraki explained as he climbed up into the bed next to her, “But I want you to try and get some of the wakame and yogurt down too…”

As he settled down, his legs flush with her own, he continued to rattle off instructions and explanations for the rest of her tray, sending her mind completely spinning, faster and faster, like a goddamn Gravitron.

And she was ready to get the fuck off.

“...if nothing else though, take the vitamins. You need the folate, calcium, iron, and the omega-3 especially, since you don’t want the salmon—”

“Okay, stop, stop, stop !”

Shigaraki paused, having the audacity to look at her like she was crazy for snapping. 

“Jesus—what the hell are you even talking about Shigaraki?!” she demanded, “What’d you say, folate? What? What is all this?”

He cocked his head, clearly playing innocent. Whatever this was, he was clearly enjoying the slow unraveling of it all.

“What’re you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about!” she snapped, “All this attention and doting and food stuff! What the hell is this all about?!”

He just smiled back at her, taking in how pretty she looked, even when mad (especially when mad sometimes), God, to think that this really was his forever now. He wondered if they had a girl, how much she’d look like her. He hoped a lot…

“I just want to make sure you’re getting all the vitamins and nutrients you need…”

He reached over then, spreading his hand flat against her stomach.

“ Both of you .”

She froze.

No.

No, he couldn’t mean—

She tried to speak, tried to ask what the ever-loving- fuck he was talking about, but her mouth had seemed to go dry. She tried several times to open and wet it a bit, but every time she did, it felt like her throat was closing too. It took at least four desperate attempts for her to finally force out one rasped:

“... what? ”

Shigaraki’s grin widened, and he started to rub circles gently across her belly.

“You’re gonna look so cute, all big and round with my kid,” he giggled suddenly as he remembered something, “Oh, and your tits too. I wonder how big they’re gonna get…”

She stared at him, unblinking, unbreathing. Everything but un-fucking-existing.

He couldn’t be serious. He was fucking with her. He had to be fucking with her!

“Th-That’s not funny.”

His grin evened a little, not disappearing outright, but settling away some of its blissful excitement into something more coyly victorious.

“I said it already,” he reminded, “When have I ever been funny?”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“N-No. No, no, no this isn’t— there’s no way—”

“I’ve got the tests ready when you need to pee, but I think it’s pretty clear. These are all the symptoms I read about.”

“No!” she insisted, “N-No, no— this is, it’s my period! It’s just a day late, it’s not—!”

He chuckled, “I know the symptoms can be similar, but come on. When’s the last time you’ve hurled like that thanks to your period? And the sensitivity to smell? You know this is different.”

Crumbling, every argument she could possibly think of was crumbling to dust before she could even get the thought fully formed. And cruel, vicious reality was more than happy to take its place.

“B-But my birth control pills…”

“Fertility pills,” he explained, his splitting-grin returning in full, “I would’ve preferred to get Clomid from the doctor, but it looks like the over the counter stuff and tracking your cycle worked just fine.”

Her stomach dropped. Pieces of memories, peculiar behaviors and nagging thoughts she’d had over the last two months falling into place. How there were stretches of times where he’d cancel their sessions, only to insist they make them up a few specific days in a row. How he wanted to go multiple rounds a lot those days. How he’d stopped wanting blowjobs from her entirely. How he seemed to only want to fuck her from behind or with her knees pressed hard into her chest, positions he could fuck her the deepest in.

And how he’d have her stay still with his cock buried in her after he came. 

Back then, she just thought he was being weird and pervy. And in a way she was right.

Horribly fucking right.

Shigaraki shifted his legs away from her so that he could bring his head down to her lap, laying his cheek blissfully against her belly. 

“Was so easy,” he hummed against her skin, “Like your body was just waiting for me to knock you up. Waiting for me to make you mine…”

His hands moved across her body, one coiling behind her back so that he could pull her tighter into him, the other lacing his fingers through her own. The fingers on her trembling left hand.

“Both of you, forever,” he growled happily, a predator who had finally and definitively sunk his teeth into his prey, “All mine.”

[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | 16:63 ⏤BABY FEVER

SUM. : you and remus meet an adorable baby while grocery shopping

TAGS. : husband remus ; wife reader ; modern au ; muggle au ; married au ; baby fever ; mentions of birth control ; honeymoon phase ; domestic fluff

LENGTH : 0.6k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

You and Remus were doing your weekly shop, list in hand as he pushed the shopping cart beside you. It’s a peaceful routine the two of you got into after making it official and moving in together. Every Friday, after the two of you got off work, he’d pick you up and you’d both go grocery shopping for the upcoming week.  

“Should we buy welsh cakes or make them ourselves?” you mutter aloud as Remus chuckles beside you. 

“You mean ‘or you make them’, you know I’m useless around ovens,” he presses an affectionate kiss against your temple and smiles at the giggle it draws from your pretty lips — music to his ears. People said it was impossible to stay in the honeymoon phase of your relationship for so long but you and Remus debunked all of that. From a distance, the two of you still looked like newlyweds. 

“I suppose I have some time to make a few batches after we get home today,” you smile at your husband, “we can have some before tea,” 

“Sounds like a plan, dove,” Remus agrees and, as you add a small bag of self-raising flour to your cart, you hear a cry to your right and turn to see a baby perched in the cart seat, reaching its small pudgy hands down for a small dog plush they must have dropped. To the left of the baby, you saw, who you assumed was the child’s mother softly ask what the matter was, her brows furrowed from worry. It appears as though she didn’t see that her child had dropped their toy. 

Before you could take action, Remus was already handing the small plush back to the child, “here you go,” he whispers softly, “no more tears now,”

The mother flashed a smile at your husband, “Thank you so much,” she then turned to her child, “let’s say thank you to the kind man, darling,” she took the child’s small wrist and made them wave at you and Remus, who moved to stand beside you with an adoring smile on his face. Seeming to understand what their mother was asking of them, the baby gives a gummy grin with the few teeth they had as their eyes disappear behind their pudgy, flushed cheeks. At this, the mother gave one final grateful smile before moving on with her shopping, her baby hugging their beloved plush to their chest. 

“How cute,” Remus mutters, smiling and waving a final goodbye at the baby as he gradually begins to realise how quiet you’ve been. 

“Remus…” he looks at you with soft eyes as yours become rounded when looking up at him, they sparkled with want as you push your bottom lip out into a pout. It’s a look he’s familiar with; it’s the one you always pulled when you wanted something so he’s quick to anticipate any request you wanted to make.

“Yes, dove?”

“I want a baby,” 

“A–...” speechless, Remus stares at you with his jaw slackened and his eyes wide. A heat crawls up his neck and floods his cheeks as he stiffens in the hopes that the tightening of his pants weren’t just his imagination, “a…a baby?...”

“Yeah…” your whining voice makes a heat pool in his lower abdomen and, just when he thought you couldn’t make things worse, your arms wrap around his torso to squeeze him close. He looks down with red cheeks as you place your chin on his chest and continue pouting, “I want a baby now!”

“D-Dove— we can’t–”

“Why not?” 

“..y-you’re on birth control–!”

“I’ll get off it,” you quickly reply, grinning up at him like the little minx you are. He knows that you can see the profound effect your statement has on him, “please, honey~” like all of your requests before, Remus can’t say no to you. 

He’ll give you a baby and he’s not going to wait for you to get off birth control. 

NAVI.

A/N : i'm dying from a horrible flu and fever but i had to write this before i lost the inspiration to, again, this was inspired by tiktok XD i hope you darlings enjoy! i'll try to get better as soon as possible so i can get back to writing again ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

TAGLIST : @rosalyn-s @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @chullu-bhar-paani

[kathyrealmstales]

The Bois are fighting!!!!

They can't make up their minds if they want them gone now or to wait til next season, Lucky just wants to leave. Poor Lucky. xD

-----

Also! Sorry if the designs of the Finding Frankie characters for the next couple weeks are not consistent.

When I draw a character, it takes me a few tries til I get the look I like, and I'm known to just test it out and soon just find the one that sticks.

(If you want examples, the #kinito and #jack-o-moon on my blog are good ones, their designs were all over the place, especially jack-o-moon's!)

---------

For your time, have a free drawing ref sheet of me noticing the differences in the bois designs in the game:

Text:

Names are from Lucky, (The Contestant)

Other Frankie or "Frankie"

Has hair floof

3 side floof

Pants

Card in hat

Monster Frankie or "Faker"

3 floof sides

Looks robotic

Broken bow

Wide ears

Cartoon Frankie or "Boss"

On a TV, cartoon style

Has eyebrows

2 floof sides

Tilted hat

-------

Obvs there is a lot more I noticed in their designs, but these were the ones that I found that make them different from the other two Frankie's, and no matter what had to be added to their designs when I try out stuff.

Anyways, that's all, thanks for your time! Have a wonderful day and/or night!

[cottonlemonade]

large machiatto for here with atsumu, we all know his ass is even more needy and annoying as fuckkkkkkk when he's sick

When Your Husband Is Sick

word count: 630 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: post-time skip husband!Atsumu x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with a pinch of suggestiveness

warnings: mdni

request: spicy-fluffy, taking care of your sick husband Atsumu

It was still raining when you added the veggies to the soup.

For the past week the weather had been nothing but miserable, alternating between rain and even some snow here and there, adding freezing gusts of wind for good measure. And of course, your husband Atsumu had caught a cold. No matter how many times you had asked him to bundle up when he came home after training he wouldn‘t listen, arguing that all the practice kept him warm and that he was in the prime of his life and never got sick. That “no flu would ever dare to touch him“.

And now he was suffering in your bedroom, groaning and shivering. He turned his nose up at the tea you had made with a special recipe from his mom and asked for a soda instead which, after incessant begging, you had brought him, only for him to whine a second later that the bubbles scratched at his throat.

You sighed and smiled - rather miraculously, all of his idiocy had only made him more endearing to you. Lifting a shallow cup to your lips to taste the broth you hummed a few random notes and jumped with a screech a moment later when a cold clammy hand wrapped around your ankle.

“AHH! Atsumu!!“

Your husband, bundled tightly in his comforter, had crawled like a caterpillar into the kitchen.

“God, babe, I almost drop-kicked you.“ You looked down at the pitiful bundle of blanket writhing at your feet.

“It would have been a more merciful end.“, a dry voice croaked from underneath.

“Why aren‘t you in bed?“

The bundle curled to a ball, engulfing your feet.

“I missed ya… Who knows how much longer I have left.“

You snorted, “Honey, you have a cold, not the plague.“

“Are ya sure?“, he asked, meekly.

“Very. A common cold.“, you knelt down to gently pet the bundle.

“Then why does it feel like I‘m on Death‘s doorstep?“, he lamented, poking his disheveled head out from the cocoon.

“Why don‘t you crawl back to where you came from, hm? The soup is almost done.“

He retreated back into the warm shell of his comforter, “No…“ And he wrapped back around your feet, “Love me…“

“Atsumu, I swear…“, you chuckled, “Go back to bed.“

His body tightened around your legs, “Why don‘t ya love me…“

You poured some broth into the cup and bent down to carefully push it through the opening by his face. You heard a tiny slurping noise. “Good soup.“, he muttered and pushed the cup back out.

Placing it next to the pot, you wrapped your arms around what you assumed was his middle and pulled. He stretched like a cat not wanting to be picked up but eventually got to his feet, leaning heavily onto your shoulder.

“Come on, baby. Off to bed.“

“Yer so great, ya know that?“, he lulled, obviously getting sleepy again.

“You aren‘t so bad yourself. You know, for being on Death‘s doorstep and all.“

You wanted to lug him onto the bed but squeaked when he didn‘t let go and instead pulled you on top of him, arms closing tightly around your soft curves.

Your husband nuzzled into your breasts, squeezing your waist and thighs, slotting his leg between yours. His hands, usually warm and strong, snaked clumsily underneath your shirt and over your back, working the clasp of your bra.

“Tsumu, you can‘t be serious.“

“Imma give it to ya soooo gooooood.“, he mumbled, then his hands stopped and quiet snores could be heard from where his face was still buried in your chest. He had fallen asleep.

You extracted yourself from his grip, slowly to not wake him and tucked him in before heading back to the kitchen to finish up.

a/n: I had way too much fun writing this xD thanks for the request 🌟 please enjoy!

for requests see here

[seaslugfanclub]

Heyyy !!! Love your writtings and drawings !! You Rock !! And I was really curious about your thoughts on Y/N and Ratigan's relationship! Like how Ratigan grew to like them and all- I have a funny headbanging that the park Attendant managed to save him from Lucifer the cat one time XD

Ratigan and (Y/N)’s First Introduction

————————————————————————

Being in the Disney parks is overwhelming enough, but try being less than a foot tall.

Oh sure, Disney can bring all of these fictional characters to reality, but guess it was too much work for them to size up the smaller characters!

Ratigan is not having a good time. Just like his entire life, he’s had to fight tooth and nail for even a modicum of respect. Now he has to fight even harder to get a room to himself.

Disney didn’t think that far ahead about having a rodent sized villain living amongst the others. For the first few weeks of Ratigan new existence, he had to rely on his extensive talents in order to carve out a small space for himself in the villains breakout room

Oh, how humiliating it was to sleep behind a wall socket like some common vermin!!

And the food situation! It’s nearly impossible to get access to the fridge, and the cabinets have nothing that could even begin to match his expensive tastes.

Not to mention the other villains less than stellar reactions to seeing a ra- ahem- a mouse in their living area

Most of the female villains would screech at the sight of him, jumping onto chairs and demanding for the male villains to kill him.

Yes… it certainly hasn’t been all champagne and caviar…

Ratigans new life only began to improve after his less than respectable meeting with the park attendant (Y/N)

————————————————————————

“(Y/N).”

The park attendant wiped off their brow, setting down a box full of spare costumes to turn towards the intimidating woman in the doorway.

“Oh, good afternoon Lady Tremaine. How’re you doing?”

Tremaine didn’t bother with the pleasantries,

“I have not seen Lucifer since breakfast. Would you have any idea where the little creature is?”

(Y/N) shook their head, “No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“Well I have matters to attend to soon, and I need Lucifer with me. Find him.”

With nothing but a small grimace, Lady Tremaine left, her shoes tapping sharply against the linoleum tiles of the hallway.

“…..ok…”

(Y/N) shuffled in place for a moment, beginning to think of the cats usual whereabouts.

————————————————————————

“Luci!! C’mon baby! *pst pst pst*

(Y/N) shook a bag of Lucifer’s dry food, hoping the sound would lure the chunky cat out of hiding.

They had been searching for a good 15 minutes without any sign of the feline, and (Y/N) was beginning to feel an anxious flutter in their chest.

Turning up empty handed to Lady Tremaine was not an option.

(Y/N)’s search had lead them to a quieter wing of the villains building, this area mainly being used for storage and management meetings. The park attendant stopped for a moment, hoping to hear the sound of little paws, before going back to shaking the dry food.

“*pst pst pst pst pst* C’mon Luci, your mama’s looking for—” (Y/N) paused, faint scuffling could be heard further down the hall.

Finally!

(Y/N) followed the sound, approaching one of the storage rooms at the end of the hallway, but the closer they got to the scuffling, something else could be heard.

….Yelling?

The door was already slightly ajar when (Y/N) fully pushed their way into the room, causing two pairs of eyes to meet them.

In the back of the room, amongst filing cabinets and schedules of years past was Lady Tremaine’s cat, Lucifer, who’s claws were primed and at the ready… and the heaving body of Professor Ratigan pressed into a corner.

From the look on both of their faces, (Y/N) walked in on something intense, although Lucifer’s expression was one of disappointment while the professors was one of quiet relief.

“LUCIFER—The hell are you doing!?!!! Go, your mama’s been looking for you!” (Y/N) yelled at the cat, who seemed physically pained to leave the rodent alone. Reluctantly, Lucifer trudged pass the park attendant, who was still admonishing him.

“Like you’re not fed enough! What, Where you dropped as a kitten!?”

Once (Y/N) saw Lucifer’s tail disappear around the corner, they immediately turned their attention towards the still cornered Ratigan.

“Professor, are you alright!? I am so. sorry.”

They dropped the bag of cat food to rush towards the rodent, slamming down onto their knees as their eyes flitted over Ratigans form.

His chest was rapidly going up and down, Ratigan obviously still trying to catch his breath. His usually slicked back hair was now falling in front of his face as he stared up at (Y/N).

He seems frazzled, but thankfully free of any scratches or missing appendages.

“…alright?” Ratigan heaved after a few moments of silence, “You asked if I’m alright? OH YOU MENTALLY DEFECTIVE WRETCH, HOW ON EARTH COULD I EVER BE A L R I G H T???”

(Y/N) flinched at the sudden increase of volume, staring down at the now manic looking rodent in shock.

“Ever since I’ve been brought to this demented park, I’ve been nothing but humiliated and scorned! Forced to fend for myself like the common vermin because YOU PEOPLE didn’t have an iota of sense that taking me from the grave would cause me to live amongst GIANTS”

Ratigan began pacing, his eyes wild as he continued,

“I have had to scrounge and scrap to continue this miserable existence, reduced to living off of stale crackers and tap water, to lay my head beneath electrical wires. I’ve been forced to scavenge in these back rooms for supplies since every employee runs off at the sight of me before I can even open my mouth for the simplest of requests. Oh! And let’s not forget me being preyed upon by that devil in feline form! I’ve been hunted by that beast for the past few hours, nearly meeting my second demise! Left alone to die like a cretin, like I’m NOTHING. DO ANY OF YOU KNOW WHO I AM? DO ANY OF YOU KNOW WHO I USED TO BE? I HAVE NOTHING NOW. NOTHING.”

Finally his tiny body gave out, Ratigan collapsing to the carpet dramatically, arm covering his eyes.

“Oh…I’d have been better off a bloated corpse in the Thames.”

(Y/N) couldn’t find any words, watching helplessly as Ratigan sprawled across the floor. Their throat felt tight.

They’d only been hired several months ago, and they’ve only just begun getting along with a few Villains. (Y/N) rarely saw Professor Ratigan, and when they did they reasoned that he had the same provisions that the other smaller Disney rodents had.

When (Y/N) first arrived, they got to meet Ms. Bianca and Mr. Bernard in front of their tiny apartment styled home, which was built into one of the walls of the Disney Protagonist’s building. During the quick introduction, it seemed that the company had thought of everything the couple could’ve needed.

Guess the same quality of service didn’t apply to villains…

(Y/N) sat in silence for a few minutes, allowing Ratigans words to fully sink in, before finally speaking up.

“I didn’t— …..I’m sorry.”

Ratigan didn’t lift his arm from his eyes, “Please. Spare me your pity, human.”

“Oh please, don’t start with that— I’m sorry that you’ve been screwed over, I wasn’t aware that the company’s been this irresponsible.”

Slowly, (Y/N) reached out their hand, palm open in offering,

“I’m still pretty new here, but I think I’ve got a way to pull a few strings…”

Finally lifting his arm, Ratigan looked up at the park attendant. The scent of their sincerity almost nauseating, but what else did he have to lose?

Taking (Y/N)s palm as an invitation, he lifted himself off the carpet and onto (Y/N)s hand.

Oh, how low he’s stooped.

————————————————————————

Turns out (Y/N)’s “few strings” was the one of the villains that they had managed to befriend. With Ratigan in hand, (Y/N) went all the way to the other side of the building to the villains lounge, where they explained the professors dilemma to a very confused Hades, asking for his help.

As distrustful as Ratigan was around humans, he could appreciate this park attendants persuasiveness through subtle manipulation and use of accumulated favors.

Hades, who’s always been a fan of things creepy and crawly, (and also wanted to earn some brownie points with (Y/N) ) agreed to help their little charity case

Half an hour later Ratigan still sat in (Y/N)’s hands, looking up at the now nervous park attendant as they fidgeted in place, staring at the door of their managers office.

After a few minutes and some smoke leaking from underneath the doorway, a very pleased Hades opened the door. The god strolled up to (Y/N), patting them on the back and commenting how “he warmed him up for you” and was about to leave before acknowledging Ratigan in their palm.

“Ya’ better be grateful, tiny. You’ve found the only person in this park who gives a shit about you.”

Just as Ratigan was about to demand an explanation on what (Y/N) was planning, the park attendant strode into the office. Where the pair met eyes with a very pale manager.

The previous anxiousness on (Y/N)s face instantly melted into professionalism, introducing themselves, then placed Ratigan on the managers desk and asking him to share his current quality of life with the sweating man before him.

One slightly confused but melodramatic explanation later, (Y/N) went on to say how “disturbing” it was to see this type of mistreatment in a company who had bragged about the quality of their intellectual properties well being, and that it would be “unfortunate if word about Disneys beloved characters being mistreated got out to the general public, especially those protesting Disneys new holographic AI.”

(Y/N) went on to virtually demand that the company recorrect this oversight, and give Ratigan a fully furnished living space and amenity’s just like the other mice in the park.

The office was dead silent once (Y/N) had finished speaking.

The manager dabbed the sweat from his forehead, cleared his throat, and nodded. The pasty man tried to come up with excuses for the company before conceding, agreeing with (Y/N)s “request” and apologizing to Ratigan, who for once in his life was speechless.

(Y/N) and Ratigan left the managers office with the promise of Ratigans new home being fully constructed within two months, and full permission to take any food/ rodent sized items from the protagonists building.

Ratigan, who was still dazed with the sudden change of luck, was dropped off in the Villains lounge. (Y/N) promising to pick up some fresh food and maybe a rodents sized bed from the “good guys place” before running out of the room.

It wouldn’t be until months later that he’d fully express his gratitude…. But for now, he admitted , he is lucky that he found the one person in this park who gave a shit him.

———————————————————————

Hope this answers your request! I thought it’s be nice to learn how Ratigan and (Y/N) first met!

I’ll definitely make another post about their friendship and more fluff, but how could I resist writing some angst? 😭

[comicaurora]

I've started making my way through the playlist hbomberguy made of actually good video essays by queer creators and spotted a comment of yours on the one about the relationship between Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, which was fun xD red in the wild!

Anyways, just wanted to appreciate how both you and Blue and you are very good at showing your sources! It's always nice to know that the people you've watched for years have good habits after an event like this, and I hope you guys are among the people that get some new fans after this whole debacle, because your channel definitely qualifies for "good educational videos made by queer people"

I'm glad! Blue's much better about listing his sources and follow-up reading than I am.

To be honest, I loved the video, but my imposter syndrome always flares like crazy when I watch an essay like that. It might be the ADHD or it might just be who I am as a person, but I feel like I've lived my whole life striving to make everything I do the best it can be, and still managing to fuck up and get criticised for things I could've done better if only I never missed anything. It's an actual gut-drop when it turns out a source I used wasn't trustworthy, or when in older videos I only went wiki-deep for some claims and didn't check every source to be 100% sure I wasn't being goat-fish'd. And this being the internet, I can get criticized at any time for things I've gotten wrong years ago, since it's evergreen online and to the new-viewing critic it's as fresh as yesterday. It makes it hard for me to stay proud of my work past the first moment of "oh I would've done that different now". There's a cocktail of complicated, scary feelings around this space, no matter how little I actually have in common with the bad guys of this scenario - it's less about the reality and more about who my imposter syndrome tells me I am. I saw several people saying that the video actually made them feel much better about their own work because it made it clear that accidental plagiarism on that scale is impossible, but if my anxieties listened to reason I would've successfully machete'd them out of my skull years ago. I just hope I never fuck up badly enough to deserve an hbombing of my own.

But my own stress aside, the hbomb essay exposed a level of laxness, laziness and entitlement on the part of these plagiarists that I think is almost incomprehensible to people who actually create for a living or even just the joy of it. How hollow do you have to be to take in someone else's writing and not consider it, digest it, let it reshape your views and then formulate your own interpretation on it, but instead to file off the serial numbers and pretend it's yours, trusting that the person whose thoughts and words you valued enough to steal will never be powerful enough to call you out on it? I go down research rabbit holes because I love the frustration and thrill of putting something together! How joyless it must be to skim the surface and borrow someone else's conclusions!

I've sometimes had people email asking for sources on parts of my interpretation of various myths, possibly in the interest of source-citing for school papers (a nightmare concept in and of itself) and with very few exceptions I usually have to tell them "the only sources were the english translations I used of the primary source where the myth was originally written, like I said in the video, and the part where I said I was conspiracy-boarding has no source other than my own analysis of the given source, which is why I called it conspiracy-boarding" and I was always a little baffled by those emails - half the videos are introduced like "this is The Prose Edda" or "this is in Ovid's Metamorphoses" or "this bit is Hesiod" so what else could they want - but seeing the hbomb of the week made me realize that truly original analysis might not be what most people are expecting from a "thing summarized." They might be expecting a compilation of other people's summaries instead.

[theemporium]

lovelovelove your writing so much!! could i request Remus with bestie reader and she finds out all their other friends know he's a werewolf but no one told her (obvi she knows deep down bcus she's not blind or stupid xd) and just angst and reader being upset and mad and ignoring everyone

thank you!!! and thank you for requesting!🖤

part two

.

You weren’t mad that he kept it a secret.

You knew how the world viewed werewolves. You knew the stigma and stereotypes that were whispered about them. You knew even in the school curriculum, they were talked down upon and viewed as lower than witches and wizards. You didn’t agree with any of it, but the simple fact was that the Wizarding World didn’t want to accept werewolves as a part of their society.

So, it wasn’t a surprise to you that Remus decided to keep his secret hidden, and you respected it. 

You even made a point of trying to help him out when you could, even if he didn’t ask. You made sure to talk a little softer the days after a full moon. You would try to be wary that if he snapped the days before, it was the wolf and not him so you wouldn’t get too upset about the matter. You would cover for him when other people questioned his disappearance.

You did it because Remus Lupin was your best friend and you loved him, and you respected his secret. 

But that didn’t mean it hurt like a fucking bitch when you realised Remus told everyone his secret, he had confided in his friends for help, all except you.

It was a bitter realisation, like a slap in the face you weren’t quite expecting and it hurt a lot more than you cared to admit. It wasn’t even the fact he told them, it was the sheer principle that he trusted them to tell him, he wanted their help, he wanted them by his side—not you. That was what hurt the most.

You weren’t proud to admit that your reaction was quite childish, but you couldn’t stand to be in a room with Remus and the others, let alone talk to them which led to the cold shoulder you had been giving them. 

At first, Remus assumed you just wanted to spend breakfast with some other friends at another table, so he didn’t think much into it even if he wished you were in your usual spot beside him. But then classes started, and you made a point of switching seats with someone in every single one so you were on the other side of the room. Then, before he could even reach your desk, you would be out the door in a dash.

Remus knew you were ignoring him and it hurt. It hurt that he was losing his best friend.

He thought it was just him you were avoiding, but later that night when he was sat with the others, they had all confessed they had experienced the same behaviour with you over the last few days. 

“She completely blanked me in the corridor,” James said with a frown. 

“And she missed out on our study group,” Lily chimed in.

“I heard she’s been hanging around Regulus and his group,” Sirius confessed, and that reveal alone caused the group to pause. You were by no means enemies with the younger Black brother, but they hadn’t realised you were all that close either.

“So, what? She’s just replacing us?” Marlene asked, but none of them had an answer. Remus wasn’t even sure he wanted to hear the answer. 

It wasn’t until over a week later when Remus finally got a hold of you. It wasn’t his proudest moment to have all but cornered you in the library, but this was the closest he had gotten to you in almost two weeks and he wasn’t going to let the chance slip through his fingers. 

“Why are you ignoring us?” 

No response.

“Why are you ignoring me?”

But you still didn’t respond, instead trying to push your way past him towards the aisle you were heading towards before the boy intercepted your way. However, Remus moved quicker, now standing directly in front of you with his hands on your shoulders, but you quickly stepped away.

“Don’t touch me,” you stated simply.

A look of hurt flashed across his face. “Love—”

“No,” you seethed, the rage and anger and hurt you had been bottling up for the last few weeks now tipping over the edge. “No, you don’t get to ‘love’ me after everything you’ve done.”

“And what have I done?” Remus asked, exasperated. 

You hated that your hands were shaking as you pressed a pointed finger against his chest. You hated that you could feel tears welling in your eyes. You hated that a part of you missed him despite the anger coursing through your veins. 

“I thought we meant more than that, I thought we trusted each other,” you said to him, shaking your head. “Clearly, I was just an idiot for thinking that.”

Remus shook his head. “Of course I trust—”

“You told everyone,” you whisper-yelled, keeping your voice low enough so only he could hear you. “You told everyone your secret but me. You trusted everyone but me.”

The boy froze, taking in the words you had just said. His face paled and you tried to use the moments of shock to push past him, but the action of your shoulder nudging against his snapped him out of his trance. His hand reached out to grip your wrist, a pleading look on his face.

“I just wanted to protect you,” he said but the words fell short.

“And how did that turn out for you?” you retorted, pulling your hand out of his grasp before you left him standing in the library, dumbfounded and guilty as he realised he had just potentially lost his best friend, the one person that meant more to him than anyone else.

.

[captain039]

PART 6 Heal your hurt

Viktor x reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, health issues, mental health issues, light swearing, chubby reader, intimacy, sexual, friends to lovers, reader has chronic pain, unhealthy dependence xD, self esteem issues, unhealthy thoughts

Previous part <-

It was strange, fleeting heated kisses, Viktor’s surprisingly strong hands grasping your hips like you’d disappear on him. Slender fingers tracing your curves with precise expertise, lightly chapped lips leaving you breathless. You felt so different when he touched you, you felt alive, wanted, desired, needed, your reactions weren’t the only ones, the way his accent would come in thicker with desire, the subtle show of strength when guiding your lips against his, the slender fingers around your neck, holding, possessing you. The way his heart would beat erratically against his slender chest, the panting breaths he would let out. Your mind was clouded by desire and constantly left wanting more.

You sit on the couch trying to focus on your reading still having not finished your book, having it long forgotten with feeling the real thing. You couldn’t focus, your mind betraying you once more. When he was gone it felt like a whirlwind, you struggled with a need for him around when he wasn’t it drove you mad. You moved slamming your book shut grabbed a piece of paper and sat down at the table a pencil in your hand. You began to scribble your thoughts out in a rather violent display before you sighed and sagged. This need, want wasn’t healthy, it’d been what a week since he slept in your bed with you, you weren’t this needy thing, dependent on one person other than yourself. You felt upset at yourself for moving so quickly, latching onto the one thing that showed you desire, care, love…

You glare ahead those dark thoughts throning their way into your mind. You weren’t dependent on anyone, you didn’t need anyone’s help, you took care of yourself, nobody else could do that, they all…left and died. Your fist clenches and your jaw tightens as you spiral. Nobody wants you, you’re hardly fine Piltover stock, mistaken for a pig than a human, a broken animal. Ones who body isn’t worth salvaging and sent straight to the kill pen.

You didn’t need anyone.

You don’t cook dinner. You lie in your bed and stare at the wall already in a hole you can’t dig out of. You let the feelings simmer, boil then simmer again, you don’t hear the door open or the footsteps, you ignore the bed dipping and the slender taunting fingers that trail your arm. His voice is muted his breath like a spray of acid on your neck as he lies behind you.

Your resolve doesn’t end, you throw yourself in the deep end, and you force yourself to find a job, having a position held by Caitlyn as an assistant if you ever wanted a job. You show smiles and a caring nature to those around you, except Viktor. Anytime he goes to kiss you, you move away, saying you’re not in the mood or someone would see. Viktor thinks it great you work so close by him, then the pity creeps in, anytime you shift funny, stiffly walk it’s a worrying hand on your lower back, a soft murmur ‘Are you ok?’ you don’t want Viktor to notice but at the same time you want him too, give up on this- sad excuse of love.

Viktor feels like he might go insane. You’re cold, brushing him off like he hadn’t poured his heart out to you a few weeks ago, or those sweet times you shared don’t matter. You take up Caitlyn’s job offer from years ago and throw yourself head first into doing full-time. His worry builds every time he sees you, no one else notices but he does, he sees you, sees your walk stiff and lightly uncoordinated from pain, he sees how you hold your breath when you walk too, like breathing hurts, he sees your spine straighter than a ruler from not being able to move, he sees the inflamed flesh when you wear shorts or a dress. You ignore him though, like he doesn’t matter, even in a friendly conversation with others you don’t look at him. His heart shatters. He’s never felt like this, never felt something so strong towards one person besides Jayce, even then with his lab partner it’s platonic, this, this is all consuming of his weak heart. He feels different around you, confident, and at ease, his body feels stronger like you’re some magical healing beacon, and his slowly decaying body isn’t a problem when he’s around you. He finds a strange possessiveness when he’s with you, he needs you to need him because he needs you so harshly it breaks him. Viktor stares at the pulsing hexcore, he leans against his cane while sitting in his chair, something is wrong with you, for you to throw your routine out the window and forget all forms of self-care not like you. He thinks back to every conversation you’ve had since his confession and he cannot find a source of your sour nature, maybe he’s been too forceful with his affection, he feels he has, every time he kisses you he just needs more, needs you to merge with him as one. Oh but your sweet little pants and gasps are addicting, it’s unlike anything he’s seen, the way your pupils take over turning your eyes black, the sweet red tinge that coats your body, the light sweat that forms, the way you press yourself against him seeking him. The little whines that leave your mouth are like a sweet song in his ear and he needs more, he needs it louder. Your hips drive him mad he always works with his hand and you’re no different, he wants to figure you out, he wants to find what makes you gasp or moan a little louder, what makes you beg for more. He wants to feel all of you at once and he can’t. The lab door opens and he recognises the steps of Jayce coming and the sign the man lets out.

“I should’ve said no to the council position,” he says and sits down at his desk space. Jayce says a lot that his position on the council is too much and tiring, taking him away from what he loves.

“You still could” Viktor says having some of his thoughts not consumed by you.

“Are you ok?” Jayce asks up and Viktor realises he’s just sitting there staring at the hexcore. He sits up straighter, clears his throat and nods.

“Of course” he answers.

“Is it about her?” He asks, her, he doesn’t even need to say your name because he knows exactly who.

“I never thought she’d take the job here” Jayce adds and Viktor’s fist clenches.

“Neither did I” he almost spits it in anger.

“Viktor?” Jayce says confused by his tone. Viktor sighs and gets up in determination, you’re going to talk to him whether you like it or not.

You sit in your new office, going through a cabinet of files when your door bursts open. You frown jolting and wondering who has the audacity- you look seeing Viktor, he looks disheveled, he’s panting softly a frown on his face, he looks like a rabid animal.

“Viktor” you keep a professional tone as he glares, and slams the door behind him before walking to you. You’ve never seen him this angry before, you close the filing cabinet your back hitting it as he stalks you.

“You do not get to treat me like this” he says voice thick with emotion and you tense up.

“Excuse me?” You manage out as he comes closer to stand a hair width away. He searches your eyes with his amber ones, studying and you want to push him away.

“Stop” you say voice sounding weaker than you want it to.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” he says his voice softer.

“There’s nothing wrong” you glare brow furrowing.

“You expect me to believe that?” He asks frowning. You take a breath a rush of guilt hitting you. You force it away though, push it deep down away from view.

“Nothing is wrong” you say voice monotone. Viktor’s eyes flicker, his brows furrow more and he opens his mouth to speak again but closes it.

“Very well” he mutters stepping back.

“I will see you at home” he says his tone matching your indifferent one as he leaves your office.

Next part ->

@artist2181

[adventuringblind]

Two Things to Celebrate

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: fluffyyyyyyy

Summary: Reader gets sick during the race weekend. When she comes to congratulate Oscar on his race the next day, he finds out there is more to celebrate than just a good result.

Warnings: talks of sickness and pregnancy. Mentions of sex. Not proofread... *Snape impression* obviously.

Request: Yes, I'm here for it, I didn't know I needed this in my life until now. Also, requests are open. Specifically for Max, Charles, Lando, Oscar, and possibly Danny Ricc.

Notes: written in second. This is out of my comfort zone.... much better at writing angsty things me thinks XD

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

Oscar is the gentleman that everyone expects him to be. He opens the door for you. Buys you flowers on random occasions. He had pratically given you the role of passenger princess (not that you protested).

You, on the other hand, got the privilege of knowing that he is not always a gentleman. The side of Oscar that was only for those close to him.

He doesn't like showing his more vulnerable emotions to everyone. Lando, who had recently gotten close to Oscar, was shocked when he started yelling in frustration.

You knew there needed to be some reprive for him. The season had started off terribly. Often leaving Oscar in shambles after races.

He'd be calm for that camera. Always trying to find the positives of the weekend. Then found himself breaking down at home.

You hated seeing him like that.

Depending on the mood, you would simply listen and run your fingers through his hair. Other times, you distracted him with a nice meal and a movie of some sort.

When he was angry, though, you found yourself letting him use your body for reprieve. Letting out his pent up frustration and adrenaline from frustrating weekends became part of the routine during the season. Sometimes getting so frustrated with his results that you let him have his way with you for hours.

You two didn't think much of it. The sex was great, and the aftercare care even better. The thought of a second form of contraception not crossing either of your minds. You were on the pill and thought it would be enough.

That's probably the reason you got yourself here.

You were in Silverstone with Oscar. Both of you keep your fingers crossed that the car upgrades work as well for him as they did for Lando. It was killing you waiting for Q3 to start.

Maybe it was anxiety for Oscar, but you hadn’t been feeling the best for a few weeks now. You’d assumed it was just because of everything going on. Today seemed to worse then any other. The nausea becoming increasingly overwhelming.

Drinking water was only helping the pain so much. You needed it though. You are determined to watch Oscar finish. It was his first time getting into Q3 and you wanted to be ready and cheering with him when he came back. Whether he was tenth or not didn’t matter, he’s driving brilliantly which is always something to be excited about.

Then the feeling caught up to you. Quickly having to excuse yourself and find the nearest restroom. Only to to feel the water you had been drinking burning up your throat.

The feeling didn’t stop either. Your body deciding to continue ridding itself of whatever was in your stomach. Meaning that you spent the rest of Q3 locked in the restroom. Forced to watch from your phone.

You burst into tears when Oscar qualified third. Sobbing like a maniac over how proud of him you are. The suddenness of it making you keel over again.

Oscar got back to the garage as fast as possible. He couldn’t wait to find you thank you for having so match faith in him. Maybe he would take for a nice dinner to celebrate.

When he got there, however, you were nowhere to be seen. He knows you wouldn’t just leave without saying something, but where would you have gone?

He finally started asking anyone who would have been with in the garage with you. Eventually getting his answer.

He approached the bathroom door and knocked gently.

“Are you alright, love” Oscar wasn’t sure what had happened so he tried to keep his voice calm.

“It’s not locked I don’t thing.” He heard you rasp from the other side. Immediately he tried the handle to find that it is indeed not locked. He pushes the door open revealing your body barely able to hold itself up agains the wall. You were trying to stand on shaky legs but smiling excitedly and him nonetheless less.

You were grateful when Oscar came to help up upright. “I’m so proud of you.” You sobbed.

Oscars mix of emotions overwhelmed him. He had questions and concern for your well being but was smiling and embracing with joy.

Finally coming down from the high, he is able to address the current situation. His eyes scanned over you body and face. Particularly noting how your eyes are puffy and your cheeks shiny from tears. “Are you ok.” He finally managed to get out.

“Yes, I’m just not feeling the greatest. I think I might of picked something up.” Your throat still hurt from dry heaving leaving your voice broken.

Oscar move you to the side of him so he could help you walk out. “Lets get you home then.”

“But don’t you want to celebrate?”

“We can do that at home, in bed with tea to help you get well.”

Oscar bid farewell to the team. Telling Zak that it was urgent he get you home.

Being the gentleman he is, Oscar got you changed and into bed. He then decided soft foods were necessary incase you got sick again.

“Aren’t you worried you’ll get sick also?” You ask.

Oscar just smiles and crawls into bed with you. “And give up a cozy movie night? Never.”

You wonder for a moment how you got so lucky. Almost crying again at the thought. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to celebrate with you.”

Oscar whips his head around to look at you. An exaggerated look of shock plastered on his face. “Don’t you dare apologize for getting sick because you know it’s out of your control.” He pulls you into him and threads his fingers through your hair. “I do think you should go to the doctors in the morning though.” He admits.

Night came and went to quickly. Hating that you and Oscar had to say goodbye and go your separate ways. You’d taken his advice and decided to see a doctor just in case it was something more serious since you’d not been feeling well for a long while now.

A month ago you’d contracted an infection and had to be put on antibiotics. It was miserable but you thought you were on the mend. Seems you were mistaken.

The waiting was killing you. It had taken so long that you had to call Oscar to wish him luck then watching the race from your phone. It hurt you because you have a feeling it’s going to go amazing for him.

Finally after some tests, the doctor came in with the results.

“Congratulations,” she smiled. “You’re pregnant!”

Your fall falls open in shock. How did this happen? We’re you ready for this? You and Oscar had mentioned kids in the future but would he be ok with now? Your mind reels with emotion. Tears again in the verge of spilling. “How?” Was the only question you managed to get out.

“Well birth control doesn’t always work, and you had an infection recently correct?” She asks. You nod your head in response, slightly confused at the correlation. “Antibiotics negate the effects of birth control.” She explains.

Realization settles into your stomach. How could you not have know that? You mentally smack yourself for being stupid.

You thank the doctor and quickly get into your car. There is still time before the race ends and you’re determined to be there.

The drive goes by in a blur, listening to the race going as you drove. Getting slightly frustrated with the unlucky safety car but happy that Oscar was still up in fourth.

You finally got parked and practically sprinted to the McLaren garage. Just in time for the last few minutes. Everyone cheering wildly at the boys placing second and fourth.

When Oscar was finally able to get back to the garage after doing some interviews, he was not expecting to have you jumping into his arms.

He spins you in the air as you two embrace each other. “I’m so proud of you.” You smile at him. He only hugs you tighter and mumbles like ‘thank you’s into your skin.

When he sets you down, he looks relived. “Good news from the doctor then?” His eyebrows lift in curiosity.

“More like interesting news.” You immediately find that it’s much harder to tell him then you thought. Playing with the sleeves on your shirt instead of looking at him.

Oscar is immediately filled with concern again at your sudden change of emotion. “Whatever it is love, we’ll get through it.” He cradles you face in his hands. Gently coaxing you into communicating with him.

You inhale deeply, steeling yourself for whatever reaction he might have. “I’m pregnant.”

You find his eyes and search for any sign of anger or disappointment. Only to be met with an ear to ear grin. “I’m gonna be a dad?!”

Oscar picks you up and spins you again. “I guess we have more then one thing to celebrate tonight!” He shouts. The rest of the garage now staring at the two lovebirds. “I have to tell Lando. He’s going to be thrilled.”

You giggle at the relationship between the two boys. They’d gotten so close through all the struggles this season. Thankfully it didn’t take you long to find him. Not like it was that hard considering he is wearing neon yellow.

Oscar almost tackles him into a hug. Lando laughing at him, not having see this side of the Australian yet. “What’s going on with you.” He laughs. “The adrenaline getting to your head?”

Oscar makes a quick recovery and catches his breath. “I have to tell you something.” His smile so large it might come off his face. “We’re expecting.”

Lando stares between you two for a moment. Processing what he just heard. Before finally he shouts in happiness for you. “Oh my gosh this is amazing!” He smiles and throws his hand up. “I call being the godfather. I called it first so you can’t say no.”

You laugh at his antics. Both boys now coming back to you with cheery words.

As you and Oscar went home that night, you realize just how much you love each other. It might not have been what either of you planned, but neither of you would have it any other way.

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie Ghost Story (Chapter Nine)

Summary: Her scent was sharp, even beneath the layers of clothes, grime, and the guts he’d already slathered her in. Floral and sweet and musky in a way that made the primal part of him let out a deep, satisfied growl. He’d wanted so badly to taste her in that moment. He’d dive between her legs and lick her to completion over and over again, make her come on his tongue until she was sobbing from pleasure. He’d eat her out like she was his last meal—he’d devour her perfect little pussy whole. Word Count: 4337 Warnings: still no smut but some suggestive thoughts/actions, descriptions past abuse, internalized victim blaming/misogyny Notes: I had to rewrite this chapter about a dozen times, so I hope y'all like it XD. All dividers were made by @/sweetmelodygraphics (original post here). The zombie divider indicates the text below is Ghost's POV, the dove divider inidcates Lelia's POV. The combined dove and zombie divider represents a time skip but not a POV change. I still have no beta for this fic so all SPAG and consistency errors are my own, feel free to point them out. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! AO3, Masterlist

It was five days since they’d left the town, and Lelia was cold.

She was cold, and hungry, and tired, and miserable. She regretted ever leaving the town. She regretted ever leaving the cabin.

She did not regret leaving the military base.

Had she not left, she would still be tiptoeing around Andrew’s volatile temper, just waiting for him to lose it and wrap his hands around her throat again in a fit of rage. Before the dead had started walking, he’d liked to suffocate her with water. He’d catalog her every mistake throughout the day, and if she couldn’t appease him by nighttime, then the second they were alone, he’d drag her into their en-suite and force her to her knees by the bath. He’d sit on the edge of the tub, a hand in her hair as she kneeled beside it, and make her watch as it filled up to the rim. Then, he’d shove her head under, holding it there for however long he deemed she deserved as punishment. Sometimes it was only a few seconds, just enough to terrify her. Other times he held her under until she passed out. It didn’t matter. Lelia hated any pool of water larger than a puddle, now. Following that stream with Simon all those weeks again had been hell—she'd been on the edge of a panic attack the entire time.

It was so bad that Lelia couldn't even stand the sound of running water anymore. She knew she was disgusting for it, but she was secretly relieved they hadn’t found a working shower yet. That she’d had to make do with rags wet with water from her slim stash of bottles. She’d only wiped her whole body down once because of rationing, but she did the sweaty areas every few days. It was gross—but it was also such a relief. She didn't think she could take a shower even if they found one. And she didn't want to deal with the inevitable questioning grunts from Simon if she refused.

After the apocalypse had started, and Andrew had realized he didn’t need to hide his violence against her anymore, he'd started choking her the old fashioned way instead. Sometimes in front of people. It had been humiliating and painful, but less scary than the near-drownings. He no longer spent time building it up and striking the fear of God into her every time he punished her. He just snapped, grabbed her by the throat and squeezed as he shook her like a rag doll. His once cunning and calculating cruelty had devolved into unstable fits of rage as his new reality wore on him. She wondered if he got worse after she left and he could no longer take her rations or trade her body for half a bottle of whiskey. She wondered if he finally gave up and killed himself. She hoped he did.

Lelia tried not to complain to Simon about things of importance. Things she knew he wished he could fix for her but couldn’t. Groaning about her horrid, mismatching outfits or not being able to pluck her eyebrows was humorous to him—but whining about the cold or their dwindling supply of food just made him feel guilty. She didn't want him to feel guilty. He was the only reason she was alive.

He was the only person to ever make her truly happy.

She hadn't quite realized it at first, how much she enjoyed being around Simon. But in retrospect, it was obvious.

Even though he couldn’t respond, he always listened to her, no matter what she was talking about. Even if she was rambling about the history of fashion and the link between trends and current events. He would make appropriate noises at all the right times, consistently sounding interested even though he probably wasn't.

He brought her that feather, too, just because he thought it would make her smile, clearly having picked up on her love for animals. No one had given her such a thoughtful present since Ulyana had gifted her her poetry book, all those years ago. It was far more than just a feather, to her.

And Simon was so gentle with her. When they hugged, or held hands—both of which they had started to do more often, since that night in the study—he held her like glass, like he was afraid she would break if he squeezed too hard. With his strength, she probably would. And after a life in which physical contact was rare, and then frequent but always painful, his soft, affectionate touch was like a drug to her. Both healing and addictive.

It didn't matter to her that his hands were cold and he still smelled vaguely like death, regardless of how many times she cleaned him. She found herself wanting to be near him constantly. Waking up in the morning, excited to see him. Seeking his approval in everything she did. Trying to make him laugh, or the skin around his sunken eyes crinkle with a smile.

It was the apocalypse, and yet Lelia was happier than she had ever been in her life. And it was all because of Simon.

Except for right then, when he was being an absolute arse and trying to cover her with zombie guts. She knew they were behind schedule—worryingly so—but she would much rather backtrack a day's walk and try a new route than cover herself in putrid, rotten flesh and try to sneak through a herd of zombies like an idiot with a death wish.

“You can growl at me all you want; it’s not going to change my mind!” She whisper-yelled, gagging when she caught a whiff of the guts Simon had managed to smear on her before she could stop him. She was now holding him at bay with a very large stick she’d snatched up from the ground. She could see the amusement in his eyes, and she knew very well that her stick was not nearly as effective as she’d like to think. But it made her feel better to have, so she hung onto it. “I like this coat, Simon! It’s Moncler!”

Simon let out a sound that was a mix of a guffawing laugh, a huff of disbelief, and a groan of frustration. He took a lumbering step closer.

Lelia whacked him with the stick.

It was just a light whap on the arm—she knew he didn't feel pain, being dead and all, but she’d still feel guilty if she actually hit him—that wasn’t even hard enough to make a sound. Simon stopped to stare at her nonetheless, and despite not actually being able to see it, she just knew he was looking at her with an expression that said “Really?”

Lelia blushed, but held her ground, notching her chin and adopting her mother's most common look: demanding with an air of perpetual condescension. Like she was already assured that whoever she was glaring at would do whatever she wanted. Lelia could mimic it perfectly, even if she didn't actually feel that way. She hardly ever used it, finding it rude, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Simon just narrowed his eyes in response, though, rather than backing down like she’d hoped he would. It seemed his annoyance had won out, the amusement no longer anywhere to be found. Lightning fast, the stick was ripped from her hands and Simon was in her space, pinning her up against a tree. One of his hands cradled the back of her head, cushioning it so she didn’t get hurt.

Lelia squeaked in shock, eyes wide as she stared into his own. Simon stared back, and then deliberately smeared more zombie guts on the front of her designer puffer jacket.

“Simon!”

Lelia squirmed, trying to wiggle out of the way and spare her poor jacket further desecration, but Simon’s fingers tangled in her hair through the knit of her hat and held on tightly, his large form pressing closer to hers. He leaned in, burying his face in her neck and inhaling deeply, before letting out a low growl and running his gore covered hand up her side.

Lelia’s breath caught in her throat, her heart racing. Her eyes went half-lidded and her limbs turned to jelly, Simon’s body the only thing holding her up. Nerves squirmed low in her belly, and she let out a sound between a whimper and a sigh. Was this a panic attack? Was she afraid? She didn’t feel afraid. But what else could it be? She was unable to move, trapped and helpless like when Andrew or the soldiers would force themselves on her. But instead of terrified or numb, she felt… good? It made no sense. But she found herself upset when Simon stepped away, despite having just been trying to fight him off. Her legs trembled and she barely managed to keep herself from falling to the ground. She blinked at Simon, dizzily watching as he returned to the corpse of the infected he’d killed earlier and began rooting around inside its chest cavity, no doubt for more guts to cover her in, before just deciding to bring the whole nasty thing over. Lelia couldn’t even care about that, though. She was too busy trying to figure out what in the world had just happened.

Simon’s amusement had given way to his frustration when his dove had made it clear she wasn’t going to budge on her stance towards his plan. He understood her reluctance—though the fact that she seemed more concerned about ruining her designer coat than the herd of zombies she’d be wandering into certainly added to his annoyance—but she didn’t seem to understand just how dangerous it would be for her if they were still traveling when the first snow of the season fell. She would freeze to death, he had no doubt about it. And he simply couldn’t let that happen.

So, unwilling to wait any longer, he’d cornered her against a tree and took matters into his own hands. He'd expected her to be annoyed, expected her to be angry, and though he hoped she wouldn’t be, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she was a little afraid. He was still a zombie, after all. There had to be some part of her that wondered if he’d snap, one day.

What he hadn’t expected was arousal.

But he could smell it, clear as day, with his face pressed into the crook of her neck. Her pulse was rabbit quick, her heart beating hard in her chest. Her scent was sharp, even beneath the layers of clothes, grime, and the guts he’d already slathered her in. Floral and sweet and musky in a way that made the primal part of him let out a deep, satisfied growl. He’d wanted so badly to taste her in that moment. He’d dive between her legs and lick her to completion over and over again, make her come on his tongue until she was sobbing from pleasure. He’d eat her out like she was his last meal—he’d devour her perfect little pussy whole.

Ghost ripped himself away from his dove, his hunger only growing when he saw the dazed expression on her face. He’d barely even touched her, and she was halfway to cockdumb already. He wanted to bury himself inside her as he consumed her hot flesh, wanted to watch her fall apart on his cock as he licked her blood from her soft skin—

He quickly lumbered over to the infected’s corpse. He needed to get away from the intoxicating smell of Lelia’s arousal. It had been too long since he’d fed, and his two very different hungers for her were getting mixed up, only making each other worse.

Digging around in its insides, Ghost tried to be rational. Her reaction had to have just been a coincidence, like a random, ill timed stiffy. It couldn't have been because of him—a dead, decayed monster. No one would ever find him appealing again—certainly not a sweet, pretty little dove like her.

And yet.

He couldn’t get the thought out of his head. That she had smelled so sweet because she’d been wet for him, aching to be filled by his cock and bred full of little monsters.

That she’d wanted him, old and dead and revolting as he was.

He was sick for wishing that were true.

Dragging the dead zombie over to her and hoping it would help cover up her smell, he focused on nothing but coating her in its guts. She didn’t protest again, seemingly stuck in her head.

It took several layers of gore to properly disguise her delicious scent, but he managed. He shoved his foul thoughts away and took her small, mittened hand in one of his. Grabbing the wagon handle with the other, he cautiously led her towards the large herd of zombies.

It took them nearly half an hour to get all the way through, and Lelia was shaking by the end, so fiercely she could barely stand. Once they were free of the herd, he led her to a tree stump so she could sit down and recover. He took the chance to put some distance between them—though he could no longer smell her beneath all the gore, she was still beautiful, and he was still ravenous. In every way.

“We smell horrid,” she finally said once she’d calmed down. “I can't eat like this. I'll be sick.”

Ghost grunted. They didn't actually have anything for her to eat—the last can of veg they’d been stretching was gone as of yesterday morning—but he knew that wasn’t really what she meant. And he could hear a river not too far from here… It was out of the way, but only slightly. They could light a fire, and he’d wash her coat and hat while she sat by it to keep her warm. Maybe he would even take the chance to do a full wash again himself, since the cold wouldn't bother him the way it would her.

But first, he needed to hunt.

He’d been trying to put it off until they got to the village, not wanting to leave her alone without four walls and a roof to keep her safe. But he would be a risk to her if he didn’t feed soon, so he led her to a tall pine tree, still thick with dense foliage, and helped her climb it. She was decently obscured, and if she stayed quiet, she would very likely go unnoticed by any survivors that stumbled upon her—though he’d not heard of smelled any nearby, thankfully. The infected were less of a worry—they wouldn’t be able to reach her with how high up she was, and still covered in gore, they likely wouldn't smell her anyway.

At least that’s what he told himself as he reluctantly left her, casting glances back over his shoulder at her tree with every few steps until it was out of sight.

Lelia was on edge the entire time Simon was gone.

It was less than an hour, but every time she heard so much as a branch twitch, she nearly jumped out of her skin. It got so bad that when the sound of leaves crunching underfoot reached her, she fell from her perch with a little scream of fear, sure she was about to die.

Strong arms caught her and held her close, a familiar, concerned groan greeting her. Lelia looked up to see Simon staring down at her, eyes crinkled with worry, face covered in blood. She blushed in embarrassment, heart beating hard in her chest from the adrenaline.

“Thank you,” she said sheepishly. “I, erm, I slipped.”

Simon cradled her more firmly against his chest, letting out a low, displeased grumble that she took to mean I saw or perhaps you need to be more careful. Maybe a combination of the two. Either way, her blush darkened.

Simon set her down gently, unearthing the wagon of supplies from where he’d hidden it under a pile of dead leaves. Lelia watched him, and wondered just how strong he was. She knew she didn't weigh much, as starved as she was, but he'd held her like she was no heavier than a feather. It made her belly squirm with that odd, nervous sensation again, though she didn’t know why. She trusted Simon not to hurt her. She wasn’t afraid of him, not even a little bit. Not since she’d held him as she cried, and she'd realized just how much he trusted her.

“Can we clean ourselves now?” Lelia asked, doing her best not to whine. The smell clinging to her was so horrible that every time she caught a waft of it, she nearly vomited. She’d had to pinch her nose closed and breath through her mouth the whole time she was in the tree—holding onto the trunk with only one hand had certainly contributed to her falling.

Simon grunted in what sounded like agreement, but he didn't hand her a bottle of water from their rapidly diminishing stash—they had been stretching the bottles as much as they possibly could, but there were only two left—and instead began to walk. Lelia frowned but jogged to catch up with him, tugging on his arm.

“Simon, please, I know there's not much left but I can’t stand this,” she complained, feeling justified since he was the one who’d done this to her. She pinched her nose again, voice coming out high pitched and nasally. “I’m going to be sick.”

Simon huffed, but she saw his sunken eyes crinkle a little. Nonetheless, he just kept walking, and so Lelia continued to complain while pretending she was annoying him rather than amusing him.

It was because she was still ranting about him ruining her coat and her appetite that she didn't hear the rushing water until they were nearly upon the river.

The second she saw it—so much deeper than that awful stream she and Simon had followed all those weeks ago—she froze, paling rapidly.

Simon had continued walking, but he stopped when her arm—which she had looped through his shortly into their walk—went rigid, pulling him back. He looked down at her, and then groaned softly, dropping the wagon handle and stepping in front of her and blocking her view of the water.

That snapped her out of her mounting panic, though she was still breathing harshly as she looked up at her zombie with terrified eyes.

“I d-don't want to go in,” she whispered, on the edge of tears. “Please d-don't make me go in…”

Simon cupped her face with his big hands, clumsily rubbing his thumbs over her cheekbones, trying to soothe her. Lelia let out a shuddering sigh, leaning into his cold touch. It was strange that it always made her feel so warm.

A few seconds later, Simon let go in order to point at the river, then at her, and then shake his head so hard his jaw wobbled, teeth clacking against one another loudly. She reached up to steady it, absentmindedly wiping away his drool as she did. He wouldn't force her into the water. Of course he wouldn’t. He wasn’t Andrew.

Simon cradled her face in his hands again for another moment, checking to make sure she was alright, before releasing her. They were still a few metres from the river, and he crouched down, joints popping, and began pulling out the stones, sticks, and matches they used to light a fire. Lelia joined him, helping to set up the little pit like he’d taught her to, and then taking off her mittens so she could expertly light one of their few remaining matches. She’d grown quite practiced over the last week.

As always, Simon praised her with a low, encouraging grunt, and Lelia’s cheeks flushed with pleasure. She liked making him proud. Just like she liked making him laugh. Sometimes she wondered if she saw him as a father figure—he was certainly old enough to be her father—but that didn't feel quite right, though she didn't know why.

Nonetheless, it was times like these that made her wish someone as kind and protective as Simon had been her father. He never would have bartered her off to Andrew for campaign money…

Once the fire was lit, Simon took her overcoat and her hat, plonking his helmet on her head instead. It immediately fell down over her eyes, far too big, and she giggled, tilting her head back so she could see again. Simon was looking down at her, eyes crinkled at the corners, dirty blonde hair shining in the dull winter sun, and in that moment, she saw just how radiant he was. Not how handsome he might have been when he was alive—no. How beautiful he was now, even with his grey skin, sunken eyes, and broken jaw. His missing lips and blackened gums. The mask and the blood covering his face. None of it mattered, she realized suddenly. To her, Simon was perfect, inside and out.

Lelia blushed as she watched Simon turn and head down to the river, heart feeling full as he carefully began to wash her clothes for her. He was so good. So patient and caring. It was a wonder she hadn’t noticed how attractive he was before. She had gotten used to his appearance quickly enough, no longer scared or off put by it by the time they’d reached the town. But she hadn’t found it appealing until now. Part of her wondered if there was something wrong with her for it—he was a zombie, after all—but a larger part of her found the thought ridiculous. There could never be anything wrong about appreciating Simon. He was her friend. Her protector. Her everything, truly. She had nothing else but him, in this world. Just as he had nothing else but her.

Simon returned to where sat by the fire, but only to lay her clothes near the flames to dry. He knocked on the helmet—which still sat on her head, because her ears were quite sensitive to the cold and so leaving them uncovered was simply not an option—and she squawked in protest, making him let out a raspy chuckle. Then, he began to work at the buckles of his tactical vest. His fingers had gotten much less stiff in the last few weeks, but they were still far from nimble, so he was struggling. Lelia swiftly got up, closing the distance between them and lightly swatting his wet hands away so she could take over. He let her with another huff of laughter, and a comfortable silence fell between them as she methodically removed his gear. She stopped when he was left in just his t-shirt and trousers, the quiet turning awkward as they stared at each other for a long moment. Lelia was unsure why Simon wasn’t moving, but she suddenly understood when he let out a rumbly sigh and began to pull off his shirt.

“Oh!” Lelia squeaked, shocked. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him shirtless before—she’d helped him change, back at the cabin—but that was before. Before the sight of his bare, muscular chest and the tattoos adorning it made her belly swoop, the way it had whenever she saw a handsome actor on the telly. She knew she should look away, but she was frozen. There were several scars on Simon’s skin, as well as open, bloodless gashes, ones he’d clearly gotten after turning. She wondered what had caused them—other people, panicking upon seeing him, not realizing he wouldn’t hurt them? Or had it been other zombies? Simon fought them often to keep her safe. Whenever they go too close to their campsite, or when he was clearing a house for them to search… he always made her close her eyes though, so she’d never noticed if they hurt him. She immediately felt guilty.

Simon seemed a little surprised to see her still watching him once his shirt was over his head, and he hesitated at the button on his combat trousers. That snapped Lelia out of her paralyzed state, and she swiftly turned around, stuttering apologies as she did. Simon just huffed a laugh, and a moment later, she heard his heavy steps as he walked away again.

Lelia didn't dare turn around to face the river while he bathed, and she was embarrassed she was even tempted to. It was one thing to find him attractive, even to admire his bare chest—it was another entirely to want to see him naked. That was incredibly improper, absolutely whorish—

You are a whore, a voice in her head that sounded like her mother’s said. Andrew turned you into one far before he made it official by giving you to the sergeants. That’s why you still feel that constant, aching emptiness inside of you. You want to be used. To be stuffed with cock and come, fucked so hard you cry—

Lelia clamped her hands over her ears, knocking Simon’s helmet off, and screwed her eyes shut as she tried to block out the thoughts, shame filling her. She had never enjoyed her time with Andrew or the soldiers, had never wanted what they’d done to her. And yet… a part of her grew increasingly anxious and uncomfortable, every night that went by without something happening. She didn't understand it. Didn’t understand the low, persistent ache in core, an emptiness that used to make her entire body feel hollow but now only seemed to exist between her legs. She should have been relieved not to have to deal with it anymore. To never have to have sex, ever again. But her body was so used to it for so long, that now it seemed to crave it. And against her will, Lelia found herself wondering if Simon could soothe that emptiness too, like he had the one in her chest.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

I have got SO many good pics saved, this is my time to shine! XD I feel like this could be 50/50 a meet-cute, or a meet-sexy, if you catch my drift

Hey! It has taken a moment, but it's done. I hope you don't mind I chose a different hairstyle.

warnings: language, possibly; drinking, no mentions of alcohol though; kissing; insinuation to future sexy times

This was not a normal Friday night. Far from it. All the stress of the week had vanished once you had walked through that door, probably blown away by the music which was on fire tonight. Around you, the smell of old wood and beer and bodies filled the pub. This was usually not too exciting, but above it all there was something else about tonight, something you could not quite grasp. Maybe to call it the thrill of excitement came closest to what it actually was, a feeling as if anything were possible. 

And yet it was not until halfway through the night before it finally seemed to make do on what it had promised all along. You had just taken another sip of your drink, still laughing about one of your friend’s stupid jokes, when you felt his eyes on you for the first time. You turned on instinct, just in time to catch him glancing over at you before he suddenly looked away. You could not help but smile about the slight panic that must have caused his move. Fortunately, it provided you with the opportunity now to take a good, long look at him—which turned out a little more challenging than you would have expected. 

Actually, you did not know where to look first. Maybe at his hair, those long, soft curls. He had pulled half of them up, but a few stubborn strands still refused to stay back and kept falling into his face no matter how often his long, slender fingers tried to tug them behind his ears. There were also the features of his face that competed for your attention. The prominent, thick brows for example, sitting above a pair of dark eyes. Sadly their colour was impossible to make out in the dim light. Or his beard, mh, his beard. You were such a sucker for long haired, bearded man and he just seemed to have it all. 

Luckily for you, your sight must have been just as tempting for him, as soon enough he let his eyes wander back to you. And now, he allowed you even enough time for a smile, and when he smiled back, his eyes still holding yours, you could feel your heart doing a double flip in your chest. 

The music was still booming, yet all you realised was the rolling of the bass in your stomach, everything else, the chatter, the clinking of glasses, the shuffling of feet on the ground, it was all silenced for a moment, overlaid by the feverish drum of your heartbeat. Even your mouth felt dry all of a sudden, but as you lifted your glass to your lips all that reached them were a few measly drops of liquid.

Good, you thought, it would provide you with an excuse to get closer to him. He sat next to the wall right opposite the counter, and as if fate had decided for you to make a move, there was a free spot at the bar close by. As you walked it was as if you were drawn to him, gravitating towards his chair, just to pass him by last minute. It were only a few steps to the counter now, but the weight of his stare was unmistakable, it followed you, all the way. Just as he had done, you realised after placing your order. He was just there, smiling, but that was enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. Jesus, he was tall. The kind of tall where you had to crane your neck to look into his eyes. 

“Can I buy that drink for you?”

“No, thanks, I’m good,” you said, already pushing some money across the counter top in exchange for your drink. You immediately took a sip, enjoying the confused look on his face just a moment longer. He was obviously still unsure about what had just happened, or whether he should leave. But obviously there was no way you would let that happen.

“But you could tell me your name instead.”

Immediately the brightest smile curled his lips, although his eyes were very busy watching his feet all of a sudden. Was he flustered? God, this man was so cute.

“I’m Andrew.”

How could a voice be this soft? You wanted to melt on the spot. But instead you held out your hand to him.

“Hi Andrew, nice to meet you. I’m Y/N,” you said as if you were totally unfazed, and it was almost no surprise at all that his hand was just as soft. 

From this moment on, it was easy. Almost too easy to be real. But you did not care. You had not felt this alive in a very long time. The giddiness that had befallen you was unreal. How could simply talking to someone else make you this ridiculously happy?

“Do you want to dance?”

The question came out of the blue for you, and you needed to follow his glance to understand what was going on. Over where you had stood before, your friends had somehow decided it was time to shake a leg. And with him, yes, you would have loved to join them. But something told you he was not asking you to dance with him, but whether you wanted to rejoin your friends. Those gangly limbs of his did probably not make him the most passionate dancer. 

“Another time perhaps. Right now, I am very happy exactly where I am.”

He smiled, his eyes pulling you in, and it would have taken supernatural abilities to keep track of time after that. You must have been talking and laughing for hours, until the pub was about to close. Your friends had been long gone, and so were his. 

And so you found yourself side by side, walking down the deserted streets at night. He had asked to walk you home, and this time you had not declined his offer. He was walking close to you, so close that the back of your hand had touched his a few times, always drawing his eyes to you instantly. But soon you had mercy, on him as much as on yourself. And so you allowed your finger to make contact first, letting your pinky gently glide along his, and he understood. His hand was warm, his grip just right, and as his thumb tenderly caressed yours, you knew it would be the hardest thing you had ever done to let go once the two of you had said your goodbyes.

You wished it would never have to end, but you were inevitably nearing your home. You had taken the scenic route already, stalling, being stingy with the moments you had left with him, and now there was just no way you could put this off any longer. 

“This is me then,” you said, as you came to a stop.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the building behind you and you had no idea why until he spoke again.

“Are you sure? We could take a turn around the block just to make sure.”

His silliness made you chuckle. 

“I’m afraid I am quite certain this is where I live.”

“Shame.”

It was, you thought, as your eyes fell to the ground. 

“Andy?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

His answer came promptly, accompanied by a squeeze of your hand. “Please do.”

You had feared it would be awkward, asking that question, then reaching for him. But it was not. Not in the least. And when his lips touched yours for the first time, his taste rolling over your tongue, his breath mingling with yours, you were certain you would never want for anything again in your life. 

You were wrong though. You still needed air. As did he. And so you pulled away, hesitant, refusing to let go entirely as you leant your forehead against his. 

Andrew was the first to find his voice again. “Can we maybe do this again tomorrow?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Now it was him who chuckled, and he kept on smiling as you pulled out your phone and gave it to him so he could type in his number.

Then he leant down again for another—this time much too chaste for your taste—kiss.

“Night, love.”

“Night, Andy.”

He had taken a step back, your hands still entwined, tying you securely together. But then he took another and his fingers slowly slipped from your grasp. He smiled again, lips tightly pressed together, and right before he turned, he winked. A gesture so sinful it set you on fire despite the cold of the night air that surrounded you. 

You watched him walk, all the way down the street. He would soon reach his turn, when the chime of his phone cut through the silence. A text alert. Pulling the phone from his pocket without stopping, his feet instantly refused to walk as the display lit up. 

He had not noticed, but he must have started to smile, so much so his cheeks were beginning to hurt. He had never turned faster in his life.