#it seemed to still be bothering him on stream i felt so bad

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #43

Stitches

Imagine dis…

I was just cleaning my room when I came across an old stuffed toy of mine. It is full of stitches like an amateur trying surgery for the first time and flopping it. I just remembered sewing my stuffed toy together as a kid. Like I was playing on them too harshly or one of my younger siblings got a hold of it and roughed it all up. So when I noticed my mom had no time to help me stitch my toy, I did it myself and the results varied…

…

John Constantine, aka the Laughing Magician, wasn’t an idiot. A drunk? Absolutely. A smoker? You bet. Had the worst bloody taste in romantic or sexual partners? Well, that’s a given. But an idiot? Not a chance. He knew, better than most, that the world he lived in was held together by nothing more than spit, lies, and a hell of a lot of bloody stubbornness.

But lately, something felt off…

Every time some wanker in a bright-colored cape and spandex punched, both literally and figuratively, through time or ripped an open hole to another dimension, it began as if reality was fixing itself.

He still remembered the bloody heart attack he nearly had the first time he read those sodding reports on time travel and dimension hopping. The second his eyes skimmed over the first few lines, he buggered off without so much as a goodbye, diving headfirst into the mess to sniff out whatever godawful consequences those spandex-clad pillocks had left in their wake. So imagine his surprise when, after dragging his sorry arse across the whole damn world, he found… nothing.

Not a damn thing.

No lingering paradoxes, no dangerous tears leaking out eldritch nightmares. It wasn’t natural. And anything unnatural coming from the bastard that split his soul like some two-bit, overachieving Voldemort, made his skin crawl.

So, like any poor sod with a knack for bad decisions and a bloody inconvenient conscience, he followed the ripples.

And that’s how he ended up standing in the inky void between worlds, a cig hanging off his lips, watching some scrawny teenager go to the fabric of reality that was torn apart by yet another one of those bloody spandex-wearing tossers, with a needle, like the universe had personally pissed in his pint.

The kid sat cross-legged in the void, stabbing his bloody needle through the fabric of space-time, and from the looks of it he was fueled by nothing but caffeine and a serious dose of spite. The thread he was using was bright blue, flickering with silver and white specks. Like tiny stars in each thread. Each stitch yanked the frayed edges of existence together, a bit rougher than necessary, like he was pissed off at the whole damn universe.

Constantine blew out a long stream of smoke, taking in the mess around him with a grimace. A sorry bloody sight, that’s for sure.

The kid had already clocked the audience, rolling his eyes so hard it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash. He didn’t even bother with a glance, clearly unimpressed.

The kid introduced himself as Danny, then stretched out another few feet of thread and got back to stitching, like he hadn’t a care in the world.

The kid, Danny, if Constantine heard right, grunted, clearly unimpressed. He didn’t stop working, shoulders hunched in exhaustion like he’d been doing this for far too long. The whole cosmic janitor routine: they rip holes, he stitches 'em up. Same old, same old.

Bloody typical.

Constantine crouched down, eyeing the erratic stitching with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. This wasn’t normal, not by a long shot.

Danny let out a sharp, humorless laugh, clearly fed up. He jabbed the needle into a particularly stubborn tear with all the force of someone who'd had enough. The sarcasm practically dripped from him. Seems he was well and truly done with his unglamorous role in this cosmic mess.

Constantine felt a prickle of unease, the kind that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He didn’t need to ask, but he did anyway.

What happens if you stop?

Danny’s response was all sarcasm and sass, if there was any doubt left, it was gone now. He didn’t even need to elaborate. The answer was bloody obvious if the kid, Danny, ever stopped stitching.

Danny snorted, flashing Constantine a wicked grin, all teeth and mischief. The kind of smile that made his gut twist.

Ah. Bugger.

Constantine didn’t need a bloody prophecy to know what that meant. If the kid stopped, the world wouldn’t just fall apart it would unravel, slow and steady, like a seamstress unpicking stitches, one by one, until nothing was left. And worse? There’d be no afterlife waiting to catch the poor sods caught in the collapse. No heaven, no hell, no second chances. Just the abyss, swallowing everything whole. No way in. No way out.

Now Constantine was scrambling, doing everything in his power to keep the kid from buggering off while there were still holes left to patch. And, just as importantly, making sure those spandex-clad pillocks finally got the memo, no more bloody time travel or dimension-hopping shenanigans.

The kid must’ve clocked what he was up to because, without a word, he handed Constantine a green-glowing bat with “Creepstick” printed on the side. He didn’t think much of it at first up until, after one particularly miserable day, he swung the thing in frustration and accidentally clocked Superman, who had just been reaching out to ask if he was alright.

For a second, Constantine felt guilty. Then he remembered that the Kryptonian had probably punched more holes in reality than anyone else. That guilt? Gone. Replaced by pure, unfiltered glee.

With renewed purpose, he set his sights on the next offender, the red spandex speedster responsible for most of the timeline’s headaches. The rest of the heroes caught on quickly that he was on some kind of unholy warpath. So when he casually knocked the Man of Steel on his arse with a single swing and grinned like a serial killer who’d just found his next victim, they did the smart thing they got the hell out of his way.

Some of the ones with super-hearing overheard his next target: one of the Flashes.

Constantine knew damn well he wasn’t getting into any afterlife, but for fuck’s sake, if they didn’t stop tearing holes in the bloody universe, none of them would have a place to go. No heaven, no hell just the abyss waiting to swallow them whole. And he wasn’t about to let that happen on his watch.

…

 PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: I tried using Constantine POV throughout the entire prompt and as you can see that I over did at the Brit slang.

PPPS: Though, how did I do?….

[classyrbf]

please please please write one where everything toji does just turns reader on so much that she can’t let go of him and he literally begs and whimpers for her to give him a break and she keeps saying “just one more”? (established relationship ofc)

SWEET SPOT! — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after you husband comes home from the gym, you find yourself getting all hot and bothered, pouncing on him the second the opportunity arrived

INFO...toji x fem!reader, reader is extremely needy for toji, creampies, overstim, riding, squirting, messy, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

thanks for the request anon!

“Hah—fuck nngh! Baby, slow…down!” Toji says through gritted teeth as you bounce up and down on his cock for what seemed like hours now. Your hips slamming down on his as you milked his cock, swallowing him whole and taking him for everything he’s worth. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into you, ever since he walked through the door you’ve been acting like a bitch in heat. His hands gripped at your ass, eyes rolling back as he felt his third orgasm approaching. He doesn’t even know how he’s still hard, but goddamn do you make it hard for him to stop.

“Gonna cum again, Toji? Want inside of me again,” you pant, eyes glazed over with lust as you stare at your husband. His jaw was slack, moans and whimpers escaping his throat while his hips twitched beneathing you. “You make me crazy, baby. I love it.” You messily kiss his swollen lips, feeling his hot cum coat your insides, your back arching into him more as you continue to fuck him.

“Baby…baby…nngh! Please, fuck! It’s too sensitive. I need—ah!” Your pussy grips around him like a vice, the mess made between you two makes lewd sounds echo through your bedroom, something out of a porn movie. “I need a break, baby, please,” he begs, desperation written all over his flushed face. His hands are roaming all over you body, a reaction from the overwhelming feeling of you wet cunt pleasuring him.

“I…I can’t stop—hah! Need…need you so bad. Just wanna keep fucking you and fucking you and—mmm fuck yes!” You squealed once you feel his bulbous tip hit your sweet spot. “Got me all worked up, baby.” You press your sweaty bodies together, holding him against you tightly as you focus on rolling your hips just the way you like. You pull at the hairs on the nape of his neck, mewling each time he grazes over your g-spot, feeling his dick throb inside of you.

“Shit! Oh my god!” His eyes screw shut, chest heaving up and down as he ascends to an ethereal plane of pleasure, a place he’s never been before. “Gonna…fucking…c-cum—nngh fuck!” He’s cumming for a fourth time now, brain turned to mush while you sit there and take it, only turned on even more than before. Hard nipples press against his broad chest, a lazy smile on your face and you caress his cheek. Pools of cum leak from your pussy and down to his balls, creating a sticky mess on the sheets that neither of you cared about at the moment.

“I just wanna keep fucking you—need to keep fucking you,” you whisper in his ear, licking a stripe down his neck, a slightly salty taste lingering on your tongue from the sweat. You pepper kisses along his sharp jawline, gentle compared to your movement below. “Hah, Toji, baby, I’m gonna cum!” Your brows furrow as little whimpers form into pants and moans. “Fuck! Fuck!” You fuck him harder out of pure greed feeling the pressure in your lower abdomen when you finally lift your hips and let go. Streams of clear liquid shoot from your dripping cunt, soaking your thighs and Toji’s as well, his cum mixing in with your juices and dripping out of your hole.

You’re holding onto him for dear life, body quivering and growing weak as you continue to squirt, sheets soaked. “Oh my god!” You suck in a breath, falling into his arms as you try and come down from an orgasm that strong, shaky breaths leaving your lips. You stare at him through thick lashes, sloppily kissing his lips while his hands grope your ass, pulling you closer on his lap. You still felt needy, horny, rocking your hips back and forth to find any sort of friction. You moan into the miss before pulling back from your husband. “I just wanna sit on your face now,” you say without thought.

You push him back on the bed, his head falling against the plush pillows. You climb over him, each one of your legs on either side of his head and it takes no more than a second for you to properly sit on his face. A blissful sigh escapes you, throwing your head back in ecstasy when you feel his tongue dip between your folds. “Always make me feel so good,” you moan. One thing Toji knows, is he’s gonna be here for a long while.

[corollaservant]

Introspect // Dabi x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: The past never dies. But it can often be forgotten. (3.4k)

Warnings: yandere/obsessive behavior, captivity, stalking, violence, noncon/dubcon, jealousy, delusion, denial, implied PTSD, deterministic and nihilistic philosophical paradigm, Dabi's POV—stream of consciousness type fic

A/N: wrote this in 3hrs. majorly inspired by (and dedicated to) my fave tumblr writer, new magic wand by tyler the creator and this dabi art 🖤

Happy. You looked happy, that’s what he thought when he saw it.

Not in a way you’d been with him anyway. He didn’t know whether that was for the better. The first thing he thought was you posted him. Of course you would. He was not patched, burnt or looking like someone who escaped the psychiatric ward. Without proper clothing, jumping out of a window, frantically running towards the opposite direction. Was it a matter of appearance? Or did you just not like him enough? He wouldn’t know, you hadn’t spoken in a month. And some days. That’s when you told him you needed space. Seriously, people needed to come up with better excuses, this one was over-saturated. Was it bad he clung onto you? It’s not like you had many friends, all he had asked was more of your time. Your stupid job wasn’t even that important—he never bothered finding out what you did exactly, it’s not like he didn’t care, he just wanted you there. The rest of your whereabouts were none of his business as long as you were not conversing (excessively) with anyone else. Because even then, why would you need to do that? He could do it for you.

He had no actual job, well, classifying as a villain doesn’t get you far in life, he called himself a freelancer. Freelancer in murder and theft, maybe. But he felt like he had a share in serving divine justice. A modern vigilante so to say. Any accidental death was a misfortune, a predetermined fate. He didn’t want to pretend to be integrated in society for you to like him, he was lucky because he didn’t have to. Which then reminded him of how he met you.  

Petting strays at night wasn’t careful of you, especially with the crime rates in the city. But you had done so regardless, he remembers it vividly: You in an alley, on your knees, not caring about the dirt coming in direct contact, extending your hand. The cat was barely visible, he could only make out its yellow eyes. But then, the cat saw him, he knew cats had brilliant vision and it left you, perhaps in thought he had food you didn’t. You turned your head only to take a step back. Not smart, you landed on your ass as you opened your mouth. Did he scare you? Of course, what a stupid thing to ask. Under other circumstances he’d leave. Making fun of strangers wasn’t really his thing, not unless they deserved it, but the cat seemed to take a liking to him. Animals loved him, his mom used to tell him not to trust people who repelled them, it was a bad sign. Animals had instinct, animals could tell. He decided to pet the little guy (or girl?), as he kneeled down and softly touched its head. That was another thing about cats. They didn’t give a fuck about the staples or burnt odor, they just wanted food and the occasional touch. He liked cats. He could see himself in them. Something in the domesticity of the situation must've calmed you down because you fixed your posture and to his surprise approached him. It was still dark, you were still a woman and alone in an alley. 

‘’He likes you.’’ You told him. Had you already figured out it was a male stray? Dabi must’ve underestimated you. Your voice hid a whine, a soft protest but it was not annoyance and he shifted his gaze.

‘’Yeah.’’ was all he said. 

‘’Can I?’’ You asked. Why were you asking for permission, this wasn’t even his cat. 

‘’Sure.’’

You were so close, trying not to scare the cat and also touch him, he noticed. Your finger tried to avoid his but the cat’s head was unfortunately not that big so you eventually grazed a digit over him. You hadn’t flinched back then, hadn’t even scrunched your nose, were you not afraid? Didn’t the smell and appearance repel you? Apparently not, you seemed so invested in getting the cat to like you. It wasn’t like it didn’t. The stray ended up loving you, purring at your touch and looking in your eyes, like a man in love. And maybe it wasn’t just the cat. 

-

Within three days of your first encounter he had you on his chest, in your apartment of course, where else could he have you? He wanted to fuck you the first time he saw you, but the urge wasn’t that violent, which had taken him by suprise. You also did not seem like the type to give it up easily. He’d have to do some mental jumping jacks to get you, he didn’t worry about revealing too much though; he didn't have a lot to say, his old identity long buried away with his sensitivity. He still didn’t feel like hurting you. The first night he told you his name, Dabi, and it was so convincing, he too had believed it. You exchanged trivial information neither cared about and he offered company on your way back. He scolded you for being alone in the neighborhood, like some good samaritan, he laughed as he guided you through dimly lit alleys with zero traffic. 

‘’Want to come inside?’’ You had asked. Already? Were you that easy? But who was he to say no?

Your place was small, as expected, neat and tidy, with a few clothes on the bed, nothing bad. It smelled nice too, he noticed a small plant on the coffee table. How gullible to let him in like that. Dabi imagined how many times you must’ve been wronged in life. But you being you—it was probably something that flew over your head daily. You’d call it compromise, he’d call it stupidity.

He had fucked you in missionary that night, a true gentleman, easing his way inside and slightly towering, making sure the stapled skin under his sternum didn’t touch your sensitive one. You were soaking by the time you stopped making out and he slid a finger inside, warm and enticing, his cock hardened in primal ways. He had softly thrown you on your bed (his definition of soft wasn’t exactly soft, you had let out a groan, was it bad?) and climbed on top. You were looking at him expectantly, your eyes glassy, was that pain or excitement, Dabi would bet bucks on the latter. The way you had shyly parted your legs, not for his cock, but to fit him in between was sickeningly pretty, he could swear he was almost…nervous to slip his cock inside. And he was right, trying to fit it inside failed him two or three times while he pretended to toy your clit with his cockhead. You didn’t seem to mind, his act must’ve been convincing, you were softly moaning and your eyes dared to look at the sight of his swollen tip against your lower lips, was it pretty? He had fucked you as hard as he would allow himself—your body could take it, he had to be honest, the more he stuffed you, the more he needed to drive his cock further into your soft walls, there was no room for play pretend romance here. But you seemed to like it too, wrapping your arms around the bare part of his back, fingers accidentally trailing the stapled skin and groaning near his face. ‘’Fuck.. right there.. D-Dabi! More!’’ More? Sure, you could have more. A patched arm strongly pinned a leg above your head, touching the bed frame, as his stiff and pained cock violated your cunt, he could feel how deep he was and constantly fought the urge to spill already. As for you? Tears from your eyes fell down your now stained sheets as you screamed. Pleasure, pain, honestly he didn’t care much about what it was, your pussy clamping down on him the last thing he felt before he bit down your neck, almost ripping out the skin tissue. His cum slowly trickled out, while both of you panted, each exhale synchronizing with the clock ticking in the kitchen. 

There were no voids you could fill, he knew it, interacting with others proved to be a daily reminder. But there were voids you soothed, pain you healed just with your head resting where a heart used to be. Heart beating irregularly, like his feet in his childhood, with excitement, with a different type of eagerness. These weren’t thoughts he made that night and that’s how he knew he liked you. That night his mind was blank for the very first time, carefree from reality, from the ugliness of living—you had sex with some stained villain, who hadn’t only stained your cunt, but your sheets too, your morals indirectly and heart along the way. These thoughts came to him when he saw the photo. Space. You said you needed space. There wasn’t any relationship established, what the fuck you needed space for? Because now he had found something to give waking up a reason. Someone to regularly satisfy his cock with, someone to take away his thoughts and halt his aimless wandering. And you needed space. How lame. You know what? He could give you space. Indirectly of course. He’d still follow you around, check the whereabouts and conversations, sit outside your house and watch you get undressed. But you looked happy. And he couldn’t decipher in what way. Was he a friend? Who gives a fuck about the guy anyway, why were you smiling like that? You never posted him, that's for sure, you knew in the three months of irregular hanging out (to call it dating would be a joke) that he hated it. And so you never did, even though he wanted you to deep down. Something small. A grocery store visit, one you made when he said he’d cook dinner (he had burnt it). But you never did and now here you are posting with someone irrelevant. 

Murder wasn’t the answer. Stupidly enough it was always associated with morality. But you’d think Dabi would have none of that. He thought murder was stupid. No second of his time ought to be wasted for the next guy. Though he had to admit, he often contemplated whether you’d want this. You didn’t know shit about him. But a sudden murder would definitely have you crawling for protection. And who better than the one who committed it? He honestly wouldn’t go out of his way to do all that. He wanted you organically. It had been a long time since he wanted someone. But you sufficed. You were enough. You never asked, never complained, not even when you’d come home from work, exhausted and dirty and he was waiting at your door. Not even when you were shoved against the cupboards and fucked without remorse—you still wrapped your legs around him and whimpered on his neck. And fuck if that didn’t feel good. He hugged you in your sleep. You’d both sleep in opposite directions, you first of course, so you’d never notice he switched sides and brought a leg over yours, resting his head on your throat, feeling each breath, each pulse. You’d wake up confused at the position, he’d say he didn’t remember. These were the few nights he could reach REM state. No vivid dreams of course, a shipwreck maybe and some elevator descending, lack of control or whatever bullshit he read once. He could still dream though, a miserable reminder he was still human. 

He was always mean. The world didn’t care to mold someone into being nice. What would that even be? He thought nice meant exchange. Be nice and you’d get a pair of shoes. Act nice and you’ll get to watch TV. Treat others with respect and you’d be the family’s topic of discussion over Christmas. Sure, there were selfless people, he wasn’t crazy to think there weren’t a few of them left. You’d be his prime example. And you weren’t even stupid. But your willingness to help and give bordered exploitation. It hit him like lightning. You needed to get away, the real world was doing damage to people like you. If you were with him, you wouldn't have to think twice about being taken advantage of. He’d still be mean, you wouldn’t change that. But at least you’d sleep assured knowing that he’d never, ever demand something from you. Well…besides your presence, though he’d take you as you are, so in retrospect you’d come to appreciate him for the service. 

When he came to pick you up (abduct sounded rough—you’d also want this eventually) you had just finished work. To others you seemed fine, to him you looked exhausted. No need for mask, no need for clothes, he had everything arranged. You hadn’t objected much, he tried the kind approach first, he had only asked you to go for a ride with him in a car he stole, something you’d never know. The place was a dump, a couch covered in dust and a rusty kitchen, but you’d both make it work. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find money. He would, eventually. He remembers the way your eyes widened, what were you expecting, a trip to the countryside for some mimosas? You should’ve known better. ‘’What are we doing here?’’ You had asked, looking him in the eyes, you seemed frightened like the first time you saw him in the alley, it all ends in the beginning of the cycle, such a paradox, he thought. ‘’This is our new place.’’ He cooed as he approached you, you took a step back. There really was no reason for you to be scared, you’d grow to understand the only thing scaring you would be losing him. 

He had tried to kiss you but you protested, pushing him away, a shame really and he wanted to continue with the nice approach. Well then again nice didn’t really exist so it wouldn't have worked anyway. He kissed you, your mouth was closed but not for long before it was forced open, arms snaking around your waist and pinning you to a wall collecting condensation since god knows when. He was on your neck, kissing, biting, frenzied moves really, he needed you more than he needed whatever kept him alive. Three months ago, he stopped thinking. Now, the only thing he thought was you. He dragged you to the dusty sofa, he thought of using his quirk to burn the fabric, but ripping it out came naturally. You were laid out naked and shivering, his hands grabbed your waist—was this warm enough for you? You whispered something, maybe it was louder than a whisper, stop or whatever but he couldn’t listen. He found your cunt immediately, he was almost drooling at the sight, when was he that hungry ever again? Something about your life. People behind. You said something, he didn’t listen. You weren’t that wet like the first time, he understood. Women, they need emotional connection. Maybe a sloppier kiss to get them going. He found your mouth again, forcing you to kiss him back while he gorged on yours, a small movement in your hips, a pad of his finger back on your cunt. Wetter, perfect. He slid up a finger, curling it while his thumb grazed over your clit, you whimpered. That was a sound he could finally register. He’d bring back that smile, but it’d be for him only. One finger turned to two and eventually three, he needed to stretch you out to take him, nothing had changed since the first time, just his eagerness. His cock throbbed in his black pants, he wanted to taste you. 

You moaned and attempted to touch his hair. He didn’t mind but this wasn’t the time. He moved his head lower, spreading your thighs open and spitting on your clit. Spittle dripped down your slit and his index finger trailed it along the entrance, earning him a moan. See, you already enjoyed this too much. This would be your life now on, he’d fuck you till you wouldn’t want another thing. Captivity had a good side after all. He’d treat you so well, he wouldn’t even have to force all that domestic bullshit on you. You’d do it willingly. He eats your cunt out like it's the most sacred meal, sloppily and without coordination, pushing his tongue inside and gripping your thighs forcefully and what is this? You buck your hips up, wanting more, needy little slut. Perfect, so perfect for making him stop thinking. Making him forget. His cock must leak precum, it feels uncomfortable and he wants you to coat his tongue, he really does, but please understand, he needs you. Now. To bother removing his pants fully would be hilarious, he has neither time nor desire to do so, they’re slid down half way, his cock jumps on his abdomen and he gives it an impatient stroke—looking at you always. Let me go. You say, what? Were you stupid? Right before the best part? Right before the start of a new life? Of a life you should be living years ago? Delusional, you’re delusional. ‘’You love me, baby.’’ He tells you and lets his cockhead slip in your entrance, bit by bit until he’s bottomed out and you wince, he doesn’t move just for a second, this should be enough and then starts thrusting without consideration. Like it’s an incentive, like you’re a hole that needs filling, a mere means to an end. You protest a bit more, if you get louder he might have to get violent on you, please understand he doesn’t want this. You’ll get it, eventually. He can’t decipher the look on your face, it certainly doesn’t scream happy like in the photo. 

And then he’s reminded of the photo and a rage is born. ‘’Did he fuck you this good?’’ He spears his cock inside, you are hitting against the arm of the couch, your mouth contracts and you dampen his cock, so he must be doing something right. ‘’Tell me, did he fuck this cunt?’’ He asks and you just moan—are you dumb? Why aren’t you answering? His arms envelop your throat, pressing on the carotid artery as your muffled moans get even more constricted, he spits on your face and demands an answer. Dirty. Slut. Dirty. ‘’N-o’’ comes out your mouth. He hadn’t tainted you? He hadn’t touched you. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He wipes the saliva off your cheeks, it’s so...wet? Are you crying? Why are you crying? He hates it. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He kisses you while he plunges deeper, you groan and try to avoid him, stop doing this, you’re his now, it’s final. ‘’I’ll make you feel better, alright?’’ He breathes out, he knows you like his fingers, he knows. His thumb circles achingly, longingly even on your puffy clit while you clench around him, your breathing is labored, you have to cum—cum now! On his cock, show him how much you love him. A few more strokes and he has you clamping down, more tears, so many tears and you moan out his fake name, with anger maybe or an orgasm high, he can’t tell and he doesn’t care either, it’s enough. He needs to steal a kiss one last time and feel the way you squeeze and soak all around to let his load paint you white, maybe he is like a woman after all, longing for emotion, even when he has to fulfill plain instincts. You don’t talk after it, you don’t even blink, you aren’t passed out, are you? He wasn’t that hard, come on now. He has to remove himself, clean you up, the couch and he the least of his priorities. You need to get accustomed. You’ll love it. 

You never ask. About the photo. About your family. About anything prior. But that’s not something he dwells upon, he doesn’t like to look back. You still sleep next to him, well, there aren’t many other options available, yet you do. You still breathe softly in your sleep, he still hugs you from behind. You’ve become a sedative, a very much needed one. He dreams some days, an elevator falling, a shipwreck. Only, you’re there this time. 

The few days he remembers the dream, he appreciates the company. He can only hope you do, too. 

[whitehotforeva]

taken - coriolanus snow

summary - you drank a little and the next thing you know is that you wake up dazed and confused, captured and handcuffed by none other than coriolanus snow. the peacekeeper who was ready to claim you now.

warnings - 18+, NON-CON, stalking/abduction, degradation, victim blaming, smut.

word count - 3,132

a/n - okay this is pure filth. i was just thinking of peacekeeper coryo and just how rough and unhinged he is and yeah <3 this is my second fic so i am very sorry if its bad and if there’s any errors. but anyways enjoy <3

your eyes fluttered open tiredly as a overwhelming pounding took over your head. you blinked a few times, brows furrowing as you still saw black. as you regained consciousness, you felt the sensation of a tight fabric wrapped across your eyes. a confused sound left your lips as you attempted to touch your face but you whimpered out as your wrists clanged, feeling tight as you realised that they were tied too.

what the fuck?

you roughly yanked your arms away, attempting to free your wrists and groaned out loud as the repetitive clanging sound filled your ears, growing more aggressive and aggressive as you tried to pull the cuffs away from whatever pole they were attached too. panicked breaths left your lips as you grew hot. your head pounded as tears filled your visionless eyes as you desperately tried to piece together what had led you here. you couldn’t remember anything prior to this.

you flailed your arms again, tears streaming down your face as you began to sob out for help, and the pounding in your heart intensified as you felt the sound of heavy footsteps walking towards you.

“please help!” you exclaimed out before flinching as you felt a touch, pulling off your blindfold to reveal what was in front of you.

your eyes squinted, you tried to blink away your tears to clear your vision as you furrowed your brows in an attempt to make out the figure in front of you.

your heart dropped.

standing firm with a smug grin on his face, a peacekeeper you had seen around a few times was stood ahead of you.

coriolanus snow.

“what?” you whispered out as you tried to make sense. you were unnerved by the glint in his cold orbs. you couldn’t make out what it was and you felt sick.

“please help me.” you croaked out with a pleading look to him. he was a peacekeeper. he was here to help you, right? to help you make sense of this situation? to save you?

it was a peacekeepers job to keep people safe. to keep things in order. he would help you figure how you got into this mess and who put you into it.

he simply raised a brow, an amused look on his face as he dropped the blindfold from his hands to the floor.

“you want me to help you.” he drawled out, his eyes taking you in, in a way that had the goosebumps on your skin sticking up. he relished in the sight of the way that your dress had been riding up from your aggressive movements, something you hadn’t really noticed until you saw how his gaze was locked onto your bare thighs.

you felt slightly embarrassed, but that wasn’t important right now. you needed his help. you desperately nodded to him, a whimper leaving your lips that had his pants tightening.

coriolanus snow. him and sejanus were the two peacekeepers that you felt more comfortable with being around. whilst you didn’t exactly know them, you knew that they were more respectful and politer than their peers, from all your interactions you had with them in passing, sejanus in particular. he would always offer a warm smile and even offer to walk you home in the evening from your shift at the bakery, something you’d always politely decline as you’d make your way back to the comfort of your home.

but coriolanus? he seemed respectful and polite too, however he was more reserved than his friend. you didn’t really understand what it was, but whatever it was, you didn’t bother dwelling. you didn’t really know him and that was that. now it was time for you to.

“please. i-i don’t know why i’m here. i don’t know what happened i don’t remember.” you rushed out as more tears streamed down your face as you tugged at your arms again, the clanking sound filling up the room.

“you’re here.” he spoke, taking a step towards as he unbuckled his belt.

“for me.” he made his way to the bed you were laid out on, sitting down as his strong hands pushed your legs apart , gripping them as you instinctively tried to close them, panicking more.

“to use you.” he finished out as you let out a cry, unsure on what he was even doing as his hands roughly made their way up to your inner thighs as you squirmed your body, crying out. you felt his digits wrap around the waistband of your panties as he pulled them down and off your legs whilst you tried to thrash them.

a loud slap echoed throughout the room, and you whimpered through your tears as your blurry vision made out some redness onto your thigh.

you couldn’t even process his words, only the act of him pulling down your panties. your head throbbed and fear travelled down to your stomach as your scared doe eyes looked up at him.

“p-please! i don’t understand.” you sobbed out, the sight of him taking off his trousers and boxers making the pit of dread in your body even bigger, your eyes widening as he became bare. you didn’t want to face it.

your face reddened and you scrunched your eyes shut. you had never seen that before. you had never seen a man like that before. it felt shameful to open your eyes, despite the situation you were put in.

you had heard of sleazy peacekeepers harassing some of the girls in the district, taking advantage of them after they drunk a little too much at the hob, but you had never ever expected to be tied up, almost hyperventilating as coriolanus snow stood in front of you in all his glory.

you didn’t know how he could rape you. you didn’t know if he could fit. you had never done this before. your heart rate erupted as your sobs filled the room.

he simply chuckled as you closed your eyes, enjoying your naivety. it had the blood rushing to the head of his cock, how devastated you were in front of him. how naive and stupid you were. a part of him wanted to slap you, to teach you a lesson.

didn’t you know that silly little girls weren’t supposed to drink moonshine then stumble back home all on their own?

you should be grateful, he thought. that he had you here and not any of the other perverted peacekeepers. his breathing became heavy as he grew angry at the thought of anyone else having you like this.

you were lucky.

coriolanus snow knew from the moments his blues had locked onto you, that you’d be his. he first had seen you at the hanging tree, your head lowered in the crowd as you looked away, tears brimming in your eyes as you cringed at the sound of the mockingjays echoing screams. he lazily followed you from a distance with sejanus as they patrolled, thankfully in the direction you were heading in.

he knew where your home was and had slowly began to learn the routes you’d take and things you’d do on the daily. he was captivated by you. your face full of life and summers generosity blessing your skin as he adored the flush and freckles that the sun would bring you. he never would talk to you though. he had a few interactions here and there, simply casual. he couldn’t imagine making you his without first taking you.

without claiming you. without showing you his power. to teach you. you needed to be taught. he needed to show you how dangerous he was. how he’d do anything for you. he needed to take you first, so it would be engraved in your mind forever. something you could never forget.

so it was a stain on a pretty dress of yours that you could never get out.

that way, your thoughts would always belong to him. your mind belonged to him. every part of you belonged to him. he owned you.

he was on the bed now and your eyes flashed open at the feeling of the bed sinking as he climbed over you. you kicked and he instantly gripped down onto your thighs so tightly that you hissed, an amused chuckle leaving his throat.

“c’mon doll. gotta do better than that to stop me.”

you lifted your leg up aggressively out of his grip to kick at him and he simply let out a low whistle, his firm hand pulling your leg down again and now apart.

“don’t make me ruin that pretty face.” he spoke out sternly, his warning sending you shivers as he roughly pulled up your dress even higher so it was bunched up around your hips, exposing your bare pussy.

you blushed brightly, embarrassed. nobody had seen your body like this before and quick breaths escaped your chest as you sunk in what was going to happen, not daring to fight in fear of him hurting you. well, hurting you more.

you never knew he’d be capable of this.

his eyes softened as they glanced up at you again, sighing out as he moved his hand to cup your face.

“shhh. shh. hey don’t cry? okay baby? poor baby.”

his voice feigned sympathy and you couldn’t help but sniffle stupidly as he reassured you.

“please.” you croaked out again.

a wicked grin grew on his lips as one hand stayed stroking your cheek, and the other made its way down to your bare pussy, beginning to gently rub at it as he cooed into your ear.

“shhh. fuck your pussy is wet. you want this baby i know you do.” he tried to speak softly yet there was a hint of amusement in his voice, pride swelling in his chest at the feeling of your wet folds.

you felt shame. little whimpers left your lips as you shook your head, trying to ignore the sensation growing down there in your most intimate parts, but as his fingers began to rub at your small clit, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips.

his fingers massaged your bundle of nerves faster as involuntary whimper left your mouth that had him sure that his precum dribbling down the tip of his cock.

he laughed out loud, tutting at you as he shook his head, his fingers slowing down as he looked at you with furrowed brows.

“fuck. you really are a slut, huh?”

his fingers resumed their invasion on your most intimate spot. you felt disgusted in yourself and didn’t want to admit it, but the way he rubbed at your clit brought you pleasure in ways that you could never replicate in your own bedroom at night when you’d sneak your hand under the covers and under your nightgown.

he leaned down more to roughly lick at your tears, groaning against your cheek as he did, relishing in the way your slick was coating his long fingers and the sounds you were making. your body was betraying you, it was cruel and it made him harder than he had ever been.

“no no no! please don’t!” you spoke, your voice becoming a pitch higher. you needed him to stop. your climax was approaching and the rush of pleasure alongside with your shame was sitting together in your stomach too disgustingly perfect.

“you want this. you wanted this. look at you. pathetic little girl. you knew what would happen if you walked alone drunk late at night. fuckin stupid baby.”

his words had you shaking your head as you yanked your arms in attempt to get the handcuffs off, but you couldn’t help but stop the arousal flooding from your pussy as a wretched sob left your mouth. little pants increasing in pitch quickly left your soft lips as your faced scrunched up, contorting in pleasure as tears leaked down your face, shaking your head as if that would even help.

as if that would stop you from cumming all over his fingers.

your body shook as you threw your head back, a loud sob leaving your lips as your high hit. your eyes fluttered as pleasure engulfed you, your legs thrashing now as if you could reverse your orgasm hitting you, but you couldn’t. your body shook and coriolanus instantly pumped his hard cock a few times before intruding in your untouched hole, your eyes widening as you were still processing your orgasm, and now the tight feeling of his large member entering your little hole.

you began to thrash your legs, head shaking as the pain of his intrusion in your virgin hole clashed with the high of your orgasm.

“n-no! no!”

coriolanus hissed at how tight you were around him, his long member welcoming the feeling of the warmth of your wet hole. you were wet, but it was nowhere near enough to help the largeness of coriolanus’s cock beginning to ruin you.

he slid himself fully in, ignoring your protests as he simply chuckled down at you, groaning at the feeling of you wrapped around him.

“so fuckin tight. gonna pound your little pussy. gonna ruin you.”

the river that ran down your face didn’t stop streaming. you didn’t know how you were capable of all these tears, but the stinging sensation that filled you as his long cock stretched you out had kept your waterworks going.

the blonde bit down on his lips as he furrowed his brows, slowly pulling out and letting out a low groan as he witnessed a bit of red on his cock.

you were tainted now.

by him.

he slid back in, ignoring your protests as he created a rhythm, a grin growing on his face as it became easier and easier to thrust into you, your body beginning to betray you as you became wet enough to take him.

a loud whine escaped your lips as his cock hit a special spot in you that felt electric, your eyes fluttering at the unknown feeling.

you whined again, feeling your body betray yourself as a part of you wanted more of that sensation.

coriolanus would always give you what you wanted.

his pace became brutal once he noticed the way your eyes fluttered at him hitting your g spot, so he began to pound you, gripping your face tightly as the sound of your whimpers filled the room alongside with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass.

he laughed out, his fiery blues locking down onto your teary orbs.

“can’t even rape a little whore like you. you like it too much. you want this, don’t ya?”

you shook your head roughly, but truth be told, you couldn’t even think right. your mind was hazy as pleasure shot through your body. all you could focus on was the way coriolanus’s cock was so easily pounding your little pussy, the lewd sounds growing louder as your slick coated him.

his hands aggressively pulled at the neckline of your dress, ripping it open to reveal your bare tits as he roughly tweaked your nipples. your face was flushed red as you whined at the sudden sting.

his face was damp too as he continued his relentless assault, his fingers going down to your little button as he rubbed it fast.

you gasped out, lifting your hips and throwing your head back at the overwhelming sensations he was giving you.

“gonna cum baby? cum for me. knew you’d be the perfect whore for me.” he hissed out as he felt his own high coming too. you let out a wretched sob as he hit your special spot again and as he rubbed your clit, something in you exploded and your vision blurred.

you looked so pathetic. it was almost disgusting. the way you whined out loudly as tears spilled out your eyes, your eyes fluttering dumbly as hot pleasure seeped through your veins and ripped through your stomach. wetness coated his cock as he moaned out loudly before spilling his hot cum into your weeping pussy.

you clenched tight around him and he hissed as he groped at your tits, spilling himself in you as he rode out his high with you, pleasure engulfing him as he leaned down to roughly capture your lips into a sloppy passionate kiss. the feeling of his hot cum pouring into you had you whining as you could barely respond to his kiss, your mind spinning as it stopped working.

he pulled away after a few moments and you gasped out for air as you closed your eyes in an attempt to stop your blurry vision.

coriolanus groaned and sucked down on your jaw, littering kisses along it as he then moved down to your neck, smiling against it at the sound of your quick breaths and the way your chest moved up and down.

he pulled out, creating a mental picture of your blood and slick coated all over his cock, and the way his cum dribbled out of your little pussy so perfectly. he’d revisit this memory in his head a million times over. he knew it.

“fuck.” he whispered out as he slipped two fingers back into you, pushing his cum deeper into your hole.

“fucked you dumb didn’t i baby? knew you’d want this. such a pathetic little girl.”

his tone was condescending and disgustingly sweet. you could do nothing but whine out. you felt disgusted in yourself. how could you have done that? how could you have came around his cock?

he leaned down to kiss your hot forehead.

“be grateful it was me, okay?”

he then let out a heavy breath as he left the bed and the room. you took in his words as you dumbly gazed at the lamp illuminating the room.

it was better that it was him, right?

a sob left your lips. of course it wasn’t better. but maybe he wouldn’t have targeted you if he didn’t know how easily you’d give in. how easily your body had betrayed you. didn’t that mean you wanted it? you were lucky that it was him who found you drunk, right? you cringed at the thought of the other peacekeepers. maybe it was good that it was coriolanus, rather than the rough crude men he had worked with.

but wasn’t he that? but wasn’t he worse? his power was a toxin that had now flown through your veins, something addictive that he knew he could control. at least he could give you what your body wanted.

you sniffled, silently cursing yourself. you didn’t even know what you were thinking. you weren’t thinking straight. your body throbbed and your arms ached. everything ached. you wanted to sink and drown. to never reappear again. your entire being needed it.

your eyes felt heavy as exhaustion immediately sank in, slowly fluttering shut as the last sight you saw was a familiar earring sat next to the lamp.

[bonbonly]

pairing: charles leclerc x teamstrategist!reader; tw: fingering, cunnilingus, a twinge of degradation, p in v charles leclerc hated his team strategist more than he hated losing races. oh wait. he hated losing because of his team strategist. if the last one was bad, then the young girl who volunteered to help her rich daddy surely wasn't any better. people paraded you around like you were the second coming of the lord, as if you would save ferrari by yourself.

a few races in showed the public a few things: you were cheerful and bright, really sweet to the race engineers, and also had good strategies that only seemed to benefit everyone but charles. carlos had a few extra wins and podiums than charles, and the latter's blood boiled at the thought. he slunked off to a corner, eyeing the garage carefully when his focus landed on you. a ferrari jacket too big for you, laughter echoing so loud that your body shook with each laugh, lips parted into a wide grin. he really hated you, hated that you were still so happy even when he was losing.

"sometimes the better driver wins, that's how it happens, Mr. Leclerc," you chastised him with a side eye during a team meeting once, and that was enough for him. you wanted to play dirty and try to ruin his races? oh he could play along just fine.

he couldn't bring himself to disobey team orders, so he figured the only way to properly go about this was to change your mind instead. and that he did when he noticed you in the club, scrolling through your phone aimlessly.

"getting bored?" charles asked.

"no, just looking at some notes i wrote for next week's race." you responded.

"as if that helps at all," charles grumbled, rolling his eyes. you scowled at him, shooing him away with your hand,

"don't blame your incompetence on me."

"Do you think I'm incompetent, am I?" he asked you when he had managed to pin you against a wall in his house, fingers curling inside you as you gripped onto his arms, "i want words, now."

"n-no, i d-don't," you whimpered, wondering why you even bothered to come home with him. oh that was right, you wanted him to fuck your brains out. you came around his fingers with a cry, chest heaving as you gasped for air. in one swift motion, he carried you over to the couch, palming your tits through your tight minidress that left little to the imagination in the first place. with a growl, he tore off your clothes and spread your legs, immediately wrapping his lips against your oversensitive cunny with the intention of making you a babbling mess.

"you taste so good," his accent rumbled against your core, causing you to moan out loud, hips bucking into his mouth. he let out a soft chuckle, letting his tongue explore the insides of your cunt, slurping up your juices, "i thought your stuck up ass would never let this happen.""i wouldn't," you breathed out, throwing your head back, "this is only for tonight."

he kissed the insides of your thighs before letting his tongue rake over your puffy cunt once more, the gummy walls welcoming his tongue even though you swore you couldn't handle another orgasm, "maybe you're better off being my little slut instead of my team strategist, you're only good for this anyway."

his tongue darted in and out of you, a thumb coming around your waist to circle your clit. and before you knew it, you were coming for a second time, tears streaming down your face with how good he felt. with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, he licked his lips to savor your juices once more before unbuckling his belt. he grabbed onto your ankles and pulled you closer to him, chuckling at the way you squealed in shock,

"i think i deserve to cum at least once right? you can't make me win, you might as well do one fucking thing right tonight," he chuckled, watching your face contort in pleasure when he finally sank his painfully hard cock inside you. and charles did end up winning the next race, a proud smile on his knowing face as he glanced to see you limping around the garage, avoiding everyone's eyes to not reveal what happened last night. he bit his lip, hoping to reward you for your good work today.

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Series

sinag | psh.

chapter thirteen

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

word count: 3k

warnings: contains harrassment, violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some. (please be responsible and avoid fics that contains warnings that can trigger you.)

note: reblogs and replies are highly encouraged. i truly appreciate your messages to me. it keeps me going. please leave comments and tags when you reblog! thank you so much, stay safe and ily!

eeunoia 2025 © all rights reserved.

Your eyes stings from crying too much. What happened last night kept lingering back in your mind. How Sunghoon just shot that poor man dead with no mercy. You couldn’t help but to blame yourself. It was you who asked for his help.

Sunghoon was inside your room while you pretend to be asleep. It was mid night when you heard the faint sound of the room’s door opening. Fear instantly took over you and decided to just act like as if you are fast asleep.

He was silent. It was pretty hard to tell if he’s still inside the room since his movements are very quiet. It took him a few minutes before he approach your bed and pull your sheets up to your shoulder. He didn’t do anything else, just that.

After he left, the terrifying scene haunted you 'til morning. It was impossible to fall asleep as it only takes you back to what happened back at the restaurant. The face of that poor man breaks your heart. The way his eyes flashes fear and slowly drains out of life.

You shut your eyes and rests your head on your knees, tears once again streaming down your face.

The door then suddenly bursted open making you jump on your place, pulling you back to reality. You scooted closer to the bed’s headboard when you realize that it was Sunghoon. He’s wearing his white polo, eyes looking dead cold.

“G-Get out!” you screamed right at him.

He’s not surprised. Sunghoon expected this type of behavior from you. He knew that what you just witnessed was probably too much for you. His sweet angel... You’re surely ain’t prepared for that one.

He’ll be honest, he felt a pinch of regret from what he did. Not because he felt bad for killing that man, but because it terrified you. He can’t help but to blame that old man for being too nosy and laying his hands on you. How dare him?

He kept silent, doesn’t really want to make the situation worst of to terrify you even more. He sighs and signalled something to his men.

Your eyes looked wary, attented on what’s about to happen.

A maid then entered holding a tray of food. Your eyes trailed back to Sunghoon and he’s still staring right at you. He doesn’t seem bothered or even regretful of anything. It makes you wonder how evil this guy is. To actually not feel anything after just ending someone’s life is alarming.

“Eat your breakfast. I’ll be leaving for work.” he says. You remained silent and just kept your shooting glares at him.

“Don’t even think of trying to escape since this mansion is full of security.” he warned.

Your jaw clenched, “Or else what? You’re going to kill me too?” your sarcasm filled every words.

Sunghoon kept his stares and then tilted his head over to the side. He scoffed with no humor that sent instant chills down your spine.

“You know I’ll never hurt you.”

He said it with so much sincerity, but after what you just witnessed last night, the fear for your life is your main concern.

Sunghoon wanted to approach and kiss you, but he thought it may be too much for now so he just left the room.

The moment he stepped out from the same room you finally started breathing properly. Whenever he’s around, your chest feels heavy and fear just takes the most of you.

“Miss, you should have your breakfast.” the lady that entered holding your food caught your attention.

The tension from a while ago is too much to bear that you even forgot that she’s still here. You glanced at the food and can’t find the appetite to eat.

“I don’t want to.” you glanced away and just stared blankly outside the big windows of the room. The weather looked fine and if its normal days, you would’ve want to be outside and walk around. But your heart felt heavy, eyes starting to burn once again.

—

“You what?!” Jake’s frantic voice filled the room after hearing what just happened.

“So it was you last night...” Heeseung’s smirking while reaching for the cup of coffee that Sunghoon’s secretary just prepared for them.

“Last night? What’s up last night?” some of their eyes darted at the door when Jay entered. As usual, he was running late.

“Sunghoon hyung went crazy and shoot someone dead.” Sunoo says and sighs. He’s not totally surprised about it, just a little disappointed.

Jay scoffs as he takes his sit, “What’s new with Sunghoon going crazy?”

Jungwon shakes his head with a small smirk on his lips, “How is she? I’m sure she didn’t took that well.”

Sunghoon sighs and throws his head back before shutting his eyes close. He already knew that, but now that his friends are rubbing it to his face makes him feel a bit dumb for his actions.

“Dude, Aelia’s life is very different from ours. Its not normal for her to see guns and all these. You have to take it easy.” Jake says, trying to lecture his friend.

“Jake’s right, Sunghoon. It took a while before Bri even got used to it.” Heeseung added.

“Wait wait wait...” Jay stood beside the chair he was suppose to occupy. He glanced over his friends then continued talking.

“You mean Sunghoon did all that in front of that girl?” he asks, trying to confirm the issue.

Jake rolls his eyes. “That’s what you get for being late.” he commented silently that Jay ignored.

“She has a name and its Aelia.” Sunghoon spat like its the most important thing that needs to be addressed.

Jay chuckles, a little bit amused. He’s the only one who seemed to be enjoying what he just heard.

“You just found her and already scaring the shit out of her? Man, that sucks.” Jay commented that made Sunghoon glare at him.

“I know I fucked up. What do I have to do?” he asks clicking his tongue.

Jake can’t help but to purse his lip and take time to sink in what he just heard from his friend. Is he really asking for advice? That’s not so him.

Usually Sunghoon will not even give a damn for an adivise. He will just carry on to what he thinks is best to do at the situation.

“Give her time, hyung.” Jungwon.

“You know I’m impatient.” Sunghoon throws right away, fingers tapping nonstop on the table.

“You managed to wait for her for years without being sure that she actually exist. It won’t hurt to wait for her now.” Jake.

The other guys agrees with him and even tells Sunghoon to calm down. They know their friend too well. If he doesn’t get what he wants, he gets reckless. That’s the last thing he will want to do at this situation.

He remains silent, but his breathing were heavy. Heeseung smiles and rest his cup on the table. “I know you’re probably feeling so excited now that you’ve found her, Hoon. Don’t let this overwhelming feelings be the reason for you to lose her.” his words strung deep inside Sunghoon.

He was silent. Just letting his friends advices sink deep to his system. He’s not really the type to listen from other people, but they are his friends. If there are people who knew him the best, it would be them.

Also this is the first time he will deal with someone he actually wants to keep in his life other than his friends so he really needs their help. All he’s good at is scaring people out and getting rid of them, but he doesn’t want to do any of that with you.

He nods his head as an answer and to let them know he understands. Jake smiles then clap his shoulder once before diverting the topic into something else. Despite the start of another conversation, Sunghoon’s thoughts are all filled with you.

—

“Miss...” your eyes drifted over the two maids that walked inside your room.

The look of concern over their faces are evident. Its been a whole day and you’ve declined eating any food. They are worried and at the same time scared of what the consequences may be, not for you but for them.

“You have to eat. Mr. Park strictly told us not to starve you.” desperation leaks through her tone. One familiar emotion flashes through her eyes. Fear. Is that how everyone around Sunghoon looked? Scared?

“Do you want anything? Any food you want perhaps?” one even encourages.

You pursed your lips. “I w-want to go home.” you mumbled so lowly, enough for them to hear.

The two maids exchanged glances. They do feel bad. Looking at your state, they feel bad. They wanted to help, but what can they do? They cannot risk their own life to save yours.

“I’m afraid w-we can’t grant that, Miss.”

Of course they can’t. You gulped and teared your gaze off of them. Why did you even say those words? Obviously these people are in no position to help you in any way. Well, they can try but that will cost them their life.

You should’ve learned already. What happened last night should not happen ever again. It was so cruel and traumatizing. You can’t afford having somebody else' life gone because of you.

An alarm blaze from outside the mansion and spending a few days here already familiarize you of what it means. Their heads whipped at the direction of your window faced in front of the mansion.

The color on their faces drained as you hear the faint sound of the main gate opening.

“It’s the boss.” one mumbles while her fingers visibly shaking.

Your heart swells, feeling totally guilty that they will be punished because of you.

“Just tell him that I’m the one who refused to eat.” was what you blurted, making them look at your direction.

They don’t seem amused or relaxed of what they heard from you. Its like it won’t solve anything. Who are you fooling? You are as powerless as them.

“W-What will we do? We’re in big trouble.” she panics, the younger one. Her eyes shakes and visibly tremble.

Her eyes darted at you and for a split second you saw how it glared at you. You gulped, feeling so bad now that they will definitely shoulder your stubborness.

“I’m s-sorry.”

The older one pursed her lips and remained silent, though you can still see that she’s as scared as her. The one beside her clenched her fists and opens her mouth, about to say something when the door bursts open.

You jolted and hugged your knees in a balled position once again. Eyes fixed at the entrance waiting for him to walk inside. Two men entered first and then Sunghoon.

The two maids bows their heads looking very terrified. Despite the fear from this gorgeous man, you’ve had the urge to stand up for them. It was you who refused to eat so there’s no reason for another person to shoulder it once again.

His eyes are darted at you, cold and hard to read. No words came out from his mouth, but instead his eyes moved over to the tray of untouched foods.

Terror flickers through the maid’s eyes.

“W-We tried to make her eat, Mr. Park.” the younger one already said it even before he can ask something.

His eyes moved towards her and they were terrifying for her. Colour drains off of her face as she grew paler, head lowering while fidgeting over her trembling hands.

“I’m t-the one who refused to eat! Don’t take it against them.”

You are afraid of him. That’s not even enough to describe what you feel towards the gorgeous man in front of your bed. Great. He’s so evil and yet you still manage to call him gorgeous. You’re really going insane because of him.

Sunghoon glanced at you and contemplates. His friends' words of advice flashing through his mind for a moment before he tries his best to calm down. They are all right. He should take it slow. If he wanted you to keep you, he needs you to slowly absorb this lifestyle. Its a lot, but he won’t give you any other choice.

“Alright.” he says shortly.

The two maids raised their heads in surprise. Did they really heard their boss obey somebody?

On the other hand, even if you’re caught off guard that he really did listened to you, it didn’t made you fear him less. He’s still the man who just randomly gunned someone down last night.

Sunghoon then instruct them to leave and give you two some privacy. As they disappear one by one, you panicked. The last thing you want is to be left alone with him.

Words didn’t come out from your lips. They were sealed shut as you try to stop them from shaking. Your eyes left the door after the last bodyguard closes it and then your gaze diverted towards Sunghoon.

His intimidating eyes are watching you already.

“Why didn’t you eat your food?” he asks, tone sounding strict.

You refused to talk and felt your eyes slowly watering.

Realizing that you ain’t going to respond to him, he strains a heavy sigh.

“Its useless to be stubborn, Aelia. You are stuck here with me.” his eyes pierced right through you, letting you know that nothing will ever change that.

“So you either start accepting your fate or test my patience and see where things can go.” it was surely a threat. He said it so calmly, but you felt threatened.

“I don’t w-want any of these! I want you to let me go! I want to go back to my family! I want to see my parents! I want to go back to my normal life! I want to go home!” you screamed at him, tears streaming down your face.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw. The fact that you’re rejecting him and thinking that you can get away from him pisses the hell out of him. Why would you think he will ever let you go? Never.

Regardless, he pulls his shit together and decided that he needs to leave you be for tonight. He doesn’t want to lose his patience and cause you more damage.

“This is your home.” he says with a stern and cold voice.

He stared at you for a while before he turns his back to leave you be for tonight. You burst into tears as you hugged yourself that night.

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[lvmimis]

cw: minors dni. smut implied but not detailed. you and yuuta are on a working vacation overseas. fem!reader. yuuta and reader are married. a/n: yeah idk. anyway stream risk by victony pls.

You know exactly what you’re doing, and perhaps Yuuta knows too, but he falls in this trap every time anyway - the smooth skin of your bare back exposed as you lay on the beach loungers flat on your belly is like a siren call for him, and he approaches quietly, footsteps naturally soft, and kneels close, pressing his lips softly between your shoulder blades.

“Hey.”

The harsh Equatorial sun has finally abated, and there’s a dry heat around and a hotter, wetter one naturally between the two of you. Yuuta’s returned with grilled suya, butter pear and corn instead of ordering room service and it’s still steaming, posed on the hotel suite’s kitchen table, but he’s more preoccupied by a different meal. You smile to yourself pleased, turning your face towards him as he nips gradually lower, until he's at the skin just above your bathing suit bottoms, and reach out to him before his tongue can loop beneath the flimsy fabric and get too ahead of himself. 

“You’re back so soon!”

Your eyes are bright as you meet his gaze. He smiles and takes your outstretched hand, and as you scoot over, rolling onto your back, he finds a seat in the available space, eyes flitting between yours and your exposed breasts.

“I’m pretty resourceful, turns out,” he muses. You nod, pretending to sniff the air dramatically.

“I felt bad sending you out on the streets again, but I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do easily,” you bat your eyelashes, wrapping your arms around his free arm and pulling him towards you. You’re being excessively coquettish but sometimes you feel like he needs it, to know that he’s appreciated for everything he does endlessly for you. Plus today was a rough day - the two of you had just come back from the countryside early in the AM after a particularly bloody exorcism back in a village near your hometown, just as you promised your parents you would, and still haven’t completely adjusted from the jet lag of moving across the globe for this particular excursion. Yuuta, despite his natural dark circles, seemed to be somehow more resistant to the lack of sleep than you were and far too willing to venture out even alone for a meal. 

The hotel you’re in is geared towards people who come with currency with far too high exchange rates and you’re taking full advantage of that this week, with plans to lounge on the balcony with the windows open as long as possible, dip in the pool, eat as much street food as you can physically manage until you miss Japanese food again. Most importantly you plan to spend as much time sucking face with your husband as possible. 

God knows the two of you have needed a vacation. 

Yuuta’s hungry for something and it has nothing to do with dinner. The two of your faces are just inches apart and it doesn’t take long for there to be no space between your breast and his palm, and his leg to find its way between the two of your practically bare ones.

You pretend to barely notice as he plays with your nipple, the obvious want in his eyes louder than whatever he’d say out loud in the next few moments, and continue talking. 

“I’m surprised no one’s stopped you carrying that sword all around town.”

Yuuta blows air gently from his nose, amused.

“It’s probably no different from carrying around a cutlass. At best I look like a farmer, at worst a gang member, either way no one’s going to bother me.”

He shifts downwards and soon his mouth is level with the pert nipple he eventually takes in his mouth. You try to stifle a moan, given that you’re still technically outside, even if it’s late, you’re high up enough that likely no one can hear you. 

“Not with that sketchy aura of yours,” you tease, but the last part comes out slightly breathless as he bites with gentle pressure. His eyes dart up towards you.

“Sketchy?” he raises an eyebrow, and your stomach flips like an omelet. Before you can say anything to redirect your tone, he’s slipped a finger down that cursed bikini hem and taps at your clit. You shudder, and he takes that as a queue to take his shirt off with his free hand, a move that’s oddly graceful for a generally subdued man. 

Yuuta is oddly bold when he wants to be, with the unintentional gravitas of a man who has enough ability that he doesn’t need to prove his worth to anyone. 

Letting a leg pass over you so that he’s straddled you on the lounger, he watches you for consent, and the soft anticipatory look in your eyes and the part of your lips say yes for you. 

Fingers curl in and out of you until your legs pull into your body and the sounds of your own pleasure are too much to suppress. Shooting straight up before you can let out too embarrassing of a mewl, you gasp out,

“Inside, let’s go inside!”

Your voice is flustered enough that it brings a smile to his cheeks, and he’s quick to carry you into his arms and bring you inside as you please.

A gentle toss on the bed, and the two of you are back at it, your legs wrapping around his, and your bottoms nowhere to be found. You kiss hungrily, among the aroma of spices and the salty breeze of the coast wafting towards the slow swaying curtains, the taste of each other’s lips more intriguing than any overly generous auntie’s meal.

Less exposed to the elements, you cry out freely, your doting man happy to squeeze out as much pleasure from you, hands on your face, chest, hips, thighs… you hold him impossibly close to you, taking each thrust as ministrations, each kiss and exhale as worship.

Your fingers intertwine, your toes curl as he wears you out.

And when it’s all said and done, you’re curled up in bed, legs weary as you feed each other with your hands. 

A little bit of bliss. You kiss the salt and oil off his lips and press your nose to his.

“I need to stop making you do all the work,” you joke.

“I think you do enough,” he replies back, sweat glistening on his skin, the flush of his cheeks evident. You run your fingers through his hair, sticky dark locks pushed back and caress his cheek.

“Not just sex, the exorcisms too.” 

He tilts his head and you continue.

“You and Rika do all the work, and I just do some prayers and sprinkle some sand,” you joke, your foot sliding down the side of his leg. He lets his hand rest on your thigh.

“Nothing wrong with doing what you can,” he offers, and the sincerity in his voice, like usual, is almost disarming. “Let me take care of you.”

With that he’s taken your hand in his and kisses the back of it.

Your heart flutters, and you wonder if he’s willing to do one more thing for you -

And that’s enthuse you with a round 2.

[adonis-koo]

sweet nothing • 7

↳ Description: being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself.

His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

Pairing: Jungkook/reader, ???/reader

↳ Genre: slice of life AU, mafia!AU, pregnancy, there’s like…a little bit of a plot but not a lot, future smut? maybe? it's very domestic!

Word Count: 2k

Previous | Next…

Note: IM ALIVEEE, barely, but my skin is clearing, my cortisol levels are lowering, nature is healing 🧘‍♀️ 🍃 I finally gave up and just decided that despite this story not being plot heavy, we’re still getting some plot anyways

“Are the meds not working?” You frowned, standing at the entryway of Jungkook’s bedroom, his laptop abandoned on the other side of the bed as if in defeat, he wasn’t asleep, just vacantly staring at the ceiling while laying down.

You felt an amused sense of pity for him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so utterly miserable before.

“They are, just not fast enough.” He rasped out, not bothering to look at you as he sighed, closing his eyes, “I can't even focus on anything.”

You could feel your heart tug just the slightest for him, he really did look awful, “Well how about we watch a movie? It could take your mind off the pain.”

“I need to work.” He stressed the word as best he could despite his eyes still being shut.

“Okay well, as far as I can tell, you aren’t working.” You replied walking up to the bedside as he opened his eyes into an unappreciative glare.

You offered a somewhat apologetic smile, “C’mon it’ll make you feel better, you’ll have something to focus on.”

Grabbing the remote off his nightstand you left him little choice in the matter, he said nothing, eyes following you as you rounded the bed, huffing a little as you managed to get sat down next to him.

“Remind me why I put up with your antics?” Jungkook asked dryly.

You shrugged as you turned on the TV, “You tell me.”

Jungkook only stayed silent, even as you gave him a side glance, perhaps a little curious, after all, how could you not?

If he had an answer, he kept it to himself as you browsed through the streaming services before eventually settling on an action movie, the plot however was difficult to keep up with, Jungkook however funny enough seemed invested.

Half way through the movie you had given up, the sleepy lethargy you had been experiencing the last few days winning out as you began nodding off.

“Are you really sleeping through the climax?” Jungkook’s raspy voice made your eyes open.

“This was for you not me,” You complained, managing to grab the throw blanket that had been hanging off the end of his bed, curling up against the fuzzy material.

For a brief moment, a memory pulled a smile to your face, “Y’know….when I was little, Wonho used to make me soup- it was from a can but it was the thought that mattered, he’d always get me a fizzy soda from the corner store and we’d watch cartoons together. I remember falling asleep against him and then I’d wake up tucked in on the couch.”

Jungkook’s eyes stared at the TV but you could tell he was no longer focused on the movie, dare you say he seemed almost bothered by your words.

“What?”

He seemed to be debating something in his head, “You used to never go into detail…about your parents. Just that they weren’t around.”

You gave him a weak smile, you knew what he was asking. It rarely got brought up, but you did recall mentioning the few times he had tried to pry before, always shewing the question away with a ‘My parents were never around’.

You shrugged, “Would it be too simple to say that was the truth?”

Jungkook shifted a little to face you, “Was it that simple?”

There was no challenge in his tone, only a quiet raspy question, he was always good at hiding his intentions, shrouding it behind an unphased expression, but the more you had gotten to know Jungkook, the better you had become in the art of seeing the subtle shift in his gaze.

And right now he was nothing but curious, he always had been, but even moreso now.

Your hands had managed to hold the lower half of your stomach, otherwise you would’ve crossed them, eyes flickering away from him you gave a small shrug, “For me….”

You paused for a moment to gather your thoughts before you relented with a quiet sigh, “They were always off going to bars and clubs together, they were addicts. Wouldn’t come home for days at a time, and when they did they were never sober.” Your lips twisted into a frown, voice no louder then a whisper, “Then one day only my dad came home. Definitely not sober but he was crying, like hysterically sobbing, and he just collapsed in front of me and kept apologizing.”

“Grabbed me real tight around the shoulders and kept babbling incoherently, his mouth was all discolored and his skin was real clammy looking.” You rubbed your head, the memory leaving an icky feeling in your chest.

Jungkook looked pensive after a long moment of silence, it was as if he knew there was more, “And?”

“Apparently he overdosed on fentanyl on the living room floor,” You smiled bitterly, “In front of me…I don’t remember it though, can hardly recall the night anymore honestly. I was young, maybe eight or nine. Wonho was around thirteen at the time and he ended up intervening, he told me later that he found out my dad pimped out my mom to get enough money for the fentanyl, problem was that the dealer was apart of the Jang Hi mafia. I can’t even remember the last time I saw her before she disappeared, don’t know if she’s even alive anymore.”

“You never went to look?” Jungkook asked, a soft note could be detected in his voice.

You shook your head, “There was nothing to look for,” you couldn’t hide the sadness in your voice, your lips trembling a little, “She was never there to begin with…maybe that makes me a bad person, but I can’t imagine having a child and just…”

You couldn’t even think about it, your hands rubbing over the swollen skin of your stomach to try and calm your nerves.

“Out of all the people I’ve met- and trust me, I’ve met a lot,” Jungkook’s hand lifted, fixing your blanket back over your shoulder, “In comparison, you’re an angel.”

You stared at him for a long moment before you couldn’t help the smile that tugged on your lips, a smile of his own appearing, “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“No, I'm saying it because it’s the truth.” Jungkook replied, it was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping, “You’ll make a great mother.”

“You think?”

“I know,” He had a confident look about him that was difficult to not believe, “How do you feel about the delivery coming up?”

“I still have another twelve weeks to go Jungkook,” You tried to push the anxious feeling from your chest, “But I am nervous, I mean, I’ve never had a child before, don’t really know what to expect, other then I’ve heard it’s excruciating, which I guess is a given…”

You squinted a little, the movie long forgotten playing in the background, “I was terrified when I first found out I was pregnant, and the morning sickness was awful. I could hardly hold anything down the first few days, I was so sensitive to smells, any kind of strong scent gave me a raging headache…”

Jungkook’s lips parted and you could almost see it, hear it, the question of who the father was. But his lips immediately shut once more, as if perhaps sensing you would be unlikely to answer.

“I thought about it…” You admitted quietly, “Getting an abortion, but…” You shook your head, “I don’t know, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Any other woman in my shoes surely would. And even now, I wonder if I made the right decision, if I had known Wonho was going to disappear like this…” You sighed, “I don’t know, I guess some silly part of me, thought that maybe, this was meant to take me to a new path in life, one where I’d work hard and I’d be able to separate myself from this life. Was that too naive to think?”

“I think anyone who values their life would want that,” Jungkook concluded easily, “Someone who isn’t meant to be in this lifestyle, who’s honest, and still has a shred of dignity left.”

It was quiet for a moment before he continued, “You were always too good for the underground. Shame you got dragged into it.”

You shrugged, “I don’t really think about it much anymore, I mean, it is what it is.” You chewed on your bottom lip, “Maybe it would be better if I didn’t keep the baby. I’m sure any couple unable would kill for the chance to adopt.”

You had never seen Jungkook straighten the way he did on this moment and you couldn’t help but somewhat regret your words, not your thought on it, but the fact that you had voiced it aloud.

It wasn’t the first time you had thought about it either, it was stupid of you to think having this baby would do anything other than pull you into the underground further.

“What makes you say that?” Jungkook’s gaze was like steel, it made you shy away a little, almost feeling the same way when you had first met.

You couldn’t keep eye contact with him even if you wanted too, “A lot of reasons,” you confessed, nothing more then a whisper, “The fact that I’m a single mom for starters? Or the fact that my brother is in serious debt and I’m being held here as a makeshift safe house? Let’s not even begin to talk about being able to properly provide for a child. I never had present parents and I don’t have anyone to ask for help.”

You felt tears of frustration fill your eyes.

Jungkook parted his lips, but quickly shut them once more, you could tell he was battling a plethora of questions, which maybe he didn’t deserve an answer too, but you could tell it was beginning to slowly eat at him.

Instead Jungkook’s lip twitched as if in irritation at whatever he was thinking about, eventually vocalizing his thought, “Is the dad really that much of a deadbeat?”

He didn’t say it but you could see it on the tip of his tongue, ‘I never thought you’d go that low’

You didn’t say anything for a long moment, carefully thinking about how to reply, it wasn’t that you were purposely withholding information, it just simply brought back uncomfortable memories.

“Far from a deadbeat. Furthest thing possible,” you shuddered, “It did cross my mind,” You mumbled, “Finding him. Them. But…” you trailed off before shaking your head, “What good would that do me? He might want the baby but he isn’t gonna want me.”

You only glanced down at your stomach, hand rubbing around the swollen skin as you felt a flutter trill across, the baby once again kicking.

It briefly made you smile, your worries put at ease.

A hand suddenly reached out, grabbing your chin along with your attention.

You nearly jumped at Jungkook being nearly nose to nose with you, his lips parted and his eyes had so

many things they wanted to say, “You can always ask me for help.”

You hated the way you felt all of the old feelings you had once upon a time suppressed into nothing more than a blur of self-gaslit delusions.

But it was never delusions, it was never just all in your head.

“Can I?” Your voice wavered.

Jungkook stared at you for a long minute, his eyes dropping briefly to your lips before he eventually, almost reluctantly looked away, only letting out a small laugh.

Perhaps a tone of bitterness if you really listened close, possibly regret?

“We’re gonna have to replay entire last quarter of the movie,” Jungkook complained with a rasp, sinking into the bed frame and suddenly you remembered how easy it was to pretend like there was never anything there.

You cleared your throat, before giving him a weak smile, “I’ll get the remote.”

The past was the past anyways, you’d just have to figure things out one day at a time, just like you always have.

[fandom-lover2]

The Two Times Toshinori Realized He'd Failed As A Father And The One Time He Didn't

Chapter Three - The Time He Didn't

Word Count - 3544

Chapter One - The First Time He Failed

Chapter Two - The Second Time He Failed

Toshinori didn’t know what to do, his fists coming up to pull at his hair in frustration.

If you would just stop crying for one minute then this conversation would go a lot smoother.

“I am telling you as her mother, she is fine!” Your mother insisted, picking up her bag and storming to the front door. “If you bothered to be here and be her father, then you’d know that.”

With that final strike, she slammed the door.

This just led to you screaming louder, your tiny face deep red as tears streamed down your cheeks. You were sat on the carpet, toys scattered around you in his attempts to calm you down.

How was it that babies learnt to walk before they learnt to talk? Surely needing to be able to communicate with others was more important than putting hands where they shouldn’t be.

With a sigh, Toshinori joined you at the carpet again, sitting before you and reaching out to pull you into him.

How was 28 years old considered him being well into adulthood and nearing the top charts in domestic and international hero standings, but yet still too young to be a good father?

Maybe it wasn’t his age, but rather his experience. He knew nothing of caring for children.

Yes, he’d read every book he could find about how best to care for you and how to be a good dad, but lacked the physical practice. You had been the first baby he’d ever held. He felt so out of his depth, so inadequate.

He was back in the States, taking a few days after the joint mission to come spend time with you, and by extension your mother.

Toshinori didn’t think he ever truly loved her, rather that they had been what each other needed for a while, and you had come along from that bond.

That’s why he hadn’t particularly cared when she had said she was going to spend the day with her friends and then go for a date in the evening. He understood the strain he placed on her, forcing her into a life of single motherhood when he refused to let her move you to Japan, fearing for your safety.

In his arms, you continued to cry, ignoring his rattling of the toy.

He had arrived just after 8am, you already crying. Your mother had looked horrible, saying you had been awake most of the night, “nagging” she had called it. It had been an hour since and you hadn’t stopped yet.

Something in Toshinori’s core twisted, gut telling him there was something wrong with you.

“Just teething.” your mother had replied as she had moved off to get showered.

He had read about teething, knowing it caused a fever and the baby to scream for days on end from the pain. Your mother had told him she had given you something for the fever, and the used syringe in the sink proved her statement.

Still, Toshinori felt as though it was more.

Brining you with him, he had followed her into the apartment and continued to insist, saying you should be taken to a doctor. Tensions had risen, your crying adding heat to the sizzling atmosphere. Toshinori had felt guilty holding you so close as the conversation got more aggressive, briefly wondering if you would remember them fighting. He’d placed you down on the carpet, some toys at your side in the hopes that they would settle you. It didn’t, and being put down only seemed to aggravate you more. The argument ending with your mother storming out, and now Toshinori was cradling you close and had no idea what to do.

Your eyes opened just a bit, pretty blue meeting his exact same shade as you pleaded with him to do something.

Toshinori sighed again, feeling his heart break. How could he stop his baby from hurting? This wasn’t a problem he could ‘Texas Smash’ away.

How completely and utterly useless he felt as a father. He couldn’t even do this for you. Bad enough he wasn’t around to witness every milestone, now he couldn’t even be there for you on a normal day.

Your screams rung in his ears. He pulled you closer to his chest, only needing one hand to cradle your entire body to him. You were so tiny compared to him.

“I don’t know what to do.” he confessed down to you, tears of his own gathering as his throat tightened.

You cried back in response, telling him something was hurting you. But what? And how to fix it?

Toshinori stood, moving to gently rock you back and forth as he moved from one end of the living room to the other.

It helped, just a tiny bit. But still, you writhed around and wailed. It had been 10 minutes, and you were yet to soothe.

“Please, tell me how I can help you?” he pleaded, his heart breaking more and more with every whimper and tear.

He was going crazy, your cries echoing off the wall and bouncing back to hit him again. He tried thinking back to every book, every piece of advice he had ever heard, anything. Anything to help him figure out what to do with you?

You mother had said the numbing gel on your gums hadn’t helped, and you weren’t chewing on things or drooling. Teething was the most likely cause, but why wasn’t any of that helping you? Still, she insisted you didn’t need a doctor.

Should he take you anyway?

Oh, how much he had had planned for you and him today. The first time it was truly just you two, a chance to head out into the world, dad and daughter, and catch up on time lost. A chance to make new memories. None of that was going to happen with you screaming.

 Screaming?

You weren’t screaming anymore.

Looking down, Toshinori found you looking up at him, cheeks still wet and eyes glistening. But you weren’t screaming anymore. Toshinori smiled, so relieved and so so happy.

“Hi Little One.” he greeted softly.

You continued to look up at him, then blinked once and began to scream again.

Toshinori resumed his gentle rocking, pacing again as he murmured to you.

What had he been doing to get you to stop last time? Nothing he wasn’t doing now. He was walking, rocking you in his hold as he thought back to things his mother had done in his childhood to help take away aches and he had been… humming.

He had begun humming a song his own mother had sung to him when he was a child.

It was soft and slow, a song of love. Well if it worked the first time.

Toshinori began to hum again and watched down in amazement as your cries dampened down, and you slowly opened your eyes to look up at your dad. Gaining confidence, Toshinori started adding words to his humming, the tune turning into an actual song.

You looked up at your father, your expression unclenching, your eyes stopping leaking tears, your body relaxing in his hold. He finished the song, and quickly began the next, one that had been Nana’s favorite.

He knew the words by heart, his mentor spontaneously singing it as she sailed through the air. When that one ended, he started another. Slowly, over the course of a few songs, accompanied by his moving side to side, his constant timbre rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern lulled you to sleep.

Toshinori sang another two songs, wanting to make certain you had fallen asleep. When he was sure you had, he moved to the couch, just reminding himself to not flop down dramatically but rather lower himself onto the soft chair.

As soon as he did, you wiggled.

He leapt up again, immediately resuming singing as his arms bounced up and down while his body swayed. You settled again, and Toshinori realized he may be stuck like this for a while.

Anything to keep his baby at peace.

------

Toshinori rummaged through the draws one handed, frantic and letting his panic override calm, rational thought.

You were in his other, once again screaming.

His winced with every scream, his throat burning in sympathy for you.

He had finally managed to sit down, and you had stayed asleep. He continued to hum, so content to just sit with you cradled you his chest, looking down at your peaceful face as you slept. He watched your little chest rise and fall, felt his heart clench when you reached out your little hand to hold his finger. Your fist hadn’t even managed to wrap around it entirely, but you held on fiercely.

Then it was time to make lunch for when you awoke. He placed you down in your cot cautiously, stayed hovering over you for a few minutes to ensure you stayed asleep, then slipped away into the kitchen to begin making you food.

He had just finished when your screaming had started again. He’d hurried back your room, careful not to make too much noise as he entered and lifted you from your cot. His large thumb had accidentally grazed your forehead as he had lifted you and he was surprised at how warm the skin there was.

Not warm, hot. He knew you’d had a fever earlier, but this was worse, hotter.

Rushing around your room, he frantically dug through any draw he could find, looking for the thermometer. Of course, it was in the last draw he looked in.

Your screaming was worse than before, higher pitched and desperate, and not even your father’s singing would soothe you.

Toshinori struggled to get the thermometer to stay beneath your arm, you wiggling and flailing around too much as he tried.

He felt evil and vile and like a villain as he used his huge hands to hold you down, apologizing over and over again as he fought back tears at having to use such force against you. He had never wanted to use his power on you, had sworn to never use his hands to do anything other than nurture and help you. Now, he forced you to remain still.

The thermometer took too long to beep, and he cursed every second that past with you screaming in his grasp, but finally it was finished and he could release you again. He brought you to his chest, still uttering apologies and reassurances as he held you close.

“I’m so sorry my Little One.” He looked down at the cursed machine, and his stomach hit the floor. 39.8°C.

How had you gotten so hot? For a child your size, this was life threatening.

About a million thoughts went through his mind at once, but the overwhelming amount of actions he wanted to take at once caused him to freeze in place.

Hospital. First thing was a hospital.

But you were so dangerously hot, and he remembered in a book that fevers this serve could lead to seizures. So get you cooler first. A cool bath, a cold bath.

But a hospital would know what to do better.

But your mother had said you were fine.

You made a noise, a burp mixed with a whine, and Toshinori looked down just in time to watch you vomit.

The retch ran down his shirt, ran down you, dripped onto the floor. This just caused you to scream more.

He didn’t even spare a moment worried about himself. His mind had a plan, and he acted.

Rushing to the bathroom, he started the shower, setting the water to cool. Then, he stripped you. Stepping into water, he ignored the shock of the cold on his skin. You needed to be cooled down.

He ripped off his soiled shirt with one hand, then brought you to his bare chest. You curled into him, hiccupping sobs muffled as you buried your burning forehead into him.

The cool water slid across his skin as he continued to hum, rocking his body side to side. He held you beneath the water for almost an hour, his skin feeling your own cool.

He cursed himself for not thinking of doing skin to skin earlier. The first time he’d held you, the nurses had encouraged him to remove his shirt, lay you against his bare skin. He had just thought they were trying to get some eye candy, but then an older nurse had explained to him that placing a baby onto a bare chest not only helps soothe the baby, but builds a bond between the parent and child. You would learn his heartbeat, his scent, his feel. You would bond with him, know him as your father.

Now, he did it again and you sighed into him, relaxed into him.

After an hour, your skin had cooled enough that he thought it was safe to remove you from the water. Grabbing your mother’s towel, he dried you, not concerned about himself, continuing to hum and rock you.

Moving to your room, he stepped past the vomit and trail of clothes, slipping a diaper and dress onto you with some difficulty.

Still holding you close, still shirtless, he packed a bag. A change of clothes, a pair of pajamas, diapers and wet-wipes, favorite pacifier that had done nothing to soothe you, your blankie. All the essentials you would need for your stay.

Where? The hospital.

Your mother had said you were fine, and he had stupidly believed her.

But he was your father, and his gut feelings were right too. He never should have waited so long.

Bag slung over his shoulder, he slipped on his shoes, socks still in the bathroom. Leaving the apartment, he sworn at himself. He promised he’d never do this either, but desperate times.

Feeling the power within him surge in his legs, he leapt into the air, you cradled in his arms.

------

Toshinori fought his eyes slipping shut, rolling his shoulders and stretching out his legs.

The chair was comfortable at least. Wet from his pants that had still been damp when he’d rushed into the hospital’s ER, but comfortable.

He’d need to go apologize to the in-take nurse at the front desk. He’d terrified her, bursting into the hospital, shirtless and still damp, the wind having dried him a little, and demanding someone tend to his daughter immediately.

You and he had been moved to a private room, the hospital not needing a half-naked All Might and a screaming child displayed for all to see.

Your father had needed to use every ounce of control he had to stop himself from jerking you away when the nurse had approached with a needle, needing to start an IV so blood could be taken for testing and medicine given to begin breaking your fever.

A doctor had come in to examine you, a kind woman in her late 50s. She’d concluded that you had a stomach bug of some kind, or perhaps food poisoning. It was definitely related to you having some gastrointestinal problem. Blood was taken to be sure.

That was over an hour ago. Now, you lay asleep on his chest once again, AC above cooling the room and thus you.

A nurse had brought Toshinori a blanket to wrap around his shoulders. He didn’t care how uncomfortable anyone else was with seeing him like this. You were his baby and this is what was making you happy and so he would continue to do so.

You mewled in your sleep, shifting slightly. Toshinori moved quickly to take hold of your hand, the one with the IV, and hold it still as you got comfortable. Last thing he needed was you accidentally shifting your needle or it falling out. Then he’d have to hold back tears all over again as he watched the evil (very gentle and soft) nurse put the horrid needle back in you again and know that this time he was the cause of your pain.

A soft knock sounded on the door to your room, and Toshinori called for them to entre.

It was the doctor, a sheet of paper in hand. “Mr Yagi, we got the results back.”

Toshinori sat forward, just a bit, and watched as the doctor moved to take seat beside him. She handed him the paper, as if any of it made sense to him. “We don’t see anything to indicate a bug or food poisoning, no bacteria in her blood.”

“So you don’t know what is wrong with her?” He hadn’t meant to sound so hard, but he was scared. There was something wrong with his baby and nobody knew why.

“Not from the initial tests, no. I have asked the lab to run tests on her remaining blood for a specific strand of food poisoning. Do you know what she ate yesterday?”

“Her mother had her yesterday.” he answered sadly.

Sad and annoyed and angry at himself because goddammit his daughter was sick and he wasn’t there! He was never there!

It was a damn miracle you even recognized him at all, having only been around for three visits in your entire life.

“I see.” the doctor answered, choosing to ignore the pained expression on your father’s face. “She is stable for now, and I don’t want to start antibiotics when we don’t know what we are treating. If anything changes, please use the call button to call the nurses. And, if she has a fecal passing, we will need a sample to test.”

Toshinori nodded, still looking down at you.

How strong you were, able to sleep through such horrific pain and still smile in your dreams. You were definitely his, smiling brightly all the time.

“You can put her down.” the doctor suddenly spoke, still sitting beside him.

He looked at her as if she had just told him leave you.

“The bed is ready for her. And a nurse can come stay with her if you’d like to go get a coffee or-”

“No.” Again, he hadn’t meant to be so harsh.

But leave you, when you needed him most? Let you go? No, he was never letting you go again for the rest of your life. You were going to stay curled in his arms. They were big enough, they could still hold you as you grew.

The doctor smiled softly, understanding. “I’ll bring any updates as soon as I get them.” The doctor stood, and left the room.

Toshinori looked down at you again, his beautiful baby girl. He lent forward, so careful as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head.

“My Little One.” he murmured against your skin, his huge hand cupping the back of your head.

He let a tear fall, and then another. If he had just done this sooner, it would have saved you so much pain. If he had listened to himself then you wouldn’t have been in so much pain.

“I’m so sorry.” he gasped out, fighting to keep his breaths even as you curled tighter into him.

You made a squeak, mixed in with a yawn.

He looked down at you, and you looked up at him. You raised your hand, your tiny, chubby hand, and rested it against his cheek.

He lent into your touch, his eye slipping closed.

You were going to be ok. He knew that. You probably wouldn’t even remember this had happened.

Still, he was the dad. He was the pillar of strength you could rely on. And yet, you were now having to calm him. Who was supposed to be comforting who here?

“Dada.”

His body froze, his heart skipped a beat, his eyes snapped open.

You looked at him, big bright blue eyes wide and full of life. Gone were the tears, and the redness around them. Gone was the hiccupping and the wails. You looked up at him, stars in your eyes, and you smiled.

Toshinori opened his mouth, trying to say words but nothing came forth. Maybe he’d misheard you, a babble sounding like something more than it was.

“Dada.” you repeated.

His chest felt warm and tight, his eyes now prickling with tears once again. “Yes.” he breathed. “I’m Dada.”

You smiled brightly again, hand still on his chin. You were going to be ok. Results would be back, you would probably get a dose of medicine through the IV, and all would be well again.

And, you had just said your first word.

“I’m Dada.” Toshinori repeated.

Suddenly every self-doubt in his mind vanished, every worry and every uncertainty.

You were going to be ok, because he was your Dada, and he would fight till his last breath to make sure you were safe.

Later, nurses would come to check in and find you both asleep, your tiny hand cradled in his own, your head buried into his neck as his other hand covered the expanse of your body. They would coo, and find it adorable. One nurse would take a photo, printing out a copy and then delete the original on her phone, wanting to help create a physical reminder of how good of a Dada he truly was.

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 2 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 7k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: i can't tell you all how i excited i am to get this fic going! thank you for the lovely comments on the first chapter, i promise there is a lot of cool stuff to come!

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 2 - The Patrol

‘Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.’  - Richard Silken, The Worm King’s Lullaby

There is a thin sheet of ice covering the streams that are heading downwards. It crunches under the hooves of their horses that dutifully carry them up the hill and past the gas station. Joel is glad that it's Tommy next to him. He's more tense than he's felt in ages, a gnawing feeling in his stomach that has little to do with the skipped breakfast and a lot with the worry that is etched into the frown between his brows. He wouldn't want anyone to see him like this, much less try and calm him down, something he knows is a lost battle.

“They might be fine, Joel,” his younger brother says gently, just loud enough for him to hear. Tommy thinks there will be no response until one comes, a little too late for it to not be premeditated.

“She talked about leaving, sometimes. They would be stupid enough to run off-”

“And leave Jackson?” Tommy raises a brow. “Maria said their house looked normal, all their things still in place. They wouldn't be stupid enough to leave all that behind.”

Joel doesn't want to hear it. He knows, better than anyone. Knows that you wouldn't just leave, not without saying goodbye to the children you'd come to care about so much. Would you leave him without a goodbye?

He almost hopes you would. Because if you didn't leave willingly, what was the alternative? It would've been nearly impossible for someone to take you from inside Jackson with no one noticing. But he can't shake the feeling that something is off.

It’s Tommy who has to keep reminding him to ride slow, to keep an eye on the ground for possible tracks. Joel just wants to go, to spur Old Beardy on until they're galloping up the hill, despite not knowing where it is he needs to go. He just wants to find you. Preferably in one piece, happy and healthy. 

He would’ve missed it.

The small footprints leading off the road and onto a smaller path, one that's twisting through pines and further into the woods. 

Tommy nods. “Pretty sure ‘tis the one that leads to the hunting cabin.”

It only takes a few minutes for them to be sure. The wooden cabin is hidden away behind a few trees, difficult to spot if you don't know where to look. It doesn't really serve any purpose, at least not anymore. The roof at the back caved in years ago, allowing rain and plants alike to enter the dimly lit room. It’s less than five miles from the gate of Jackson, tucked away from the main road.

He can’t help but think that this would be the perfect place to run off to. Or to hide a body.

Joel is off his horse in a second, not even bothering to tie the stallion's halter to the wooden posts in front of the cabin. Without thinking, he tugs his revolver out of his waistband, using his foot to nudge the door open.

He smells it before his eyes even have a chance to adjust to the dim light. The unmistakable stench of blood. And mixed with it, creating an odor that immediately makes him sick to his stomach, the smell of gunpowder in the air.

***

The sun has been slowly rising while you’ve been flipping through the pages, trying to find the volumes you’re looking for. The library of Jackson, though rather small, has been frequented more and more, especially in the winter months when the weather doesn’t always allow activities outside and people resort to what they’ve always known: Books.

The entire place is supposed to be relocated soon, to a small store on main street. But compared to the greenhouses needing repairs and the stables being expanded, books don't seem to be a priority for most of the townsfolk.

“Books can’t feed us or keep us safe,” Maria pointed out when you brought the slow progress up to her. You politely disagree. You feel like you could live off books for the rest of your life.

Still, packing up everything means the old place, a shed tucked away behind the church, is currently a mess. Sagging bookshelves, a leaky roof and too many books for too little space means chaos. One that only few bother to navigate in its current state. You among them.

It was the crack of dawn when you slipped out of the house, deciding to let Lane sleep in while you walked through the still empty streets to the far end of the town, hoping to get the library work out of the way before the first lesson of the day.

Maria is the one that finds you, making your head peek up from between two shelves with a frown. “You changed your mind on those books?”

She gives a small laugh, one that sounds oddly like relief. Then her face becomes stern again, the look she carries much more often. “You two have some explaining to do, do you realize that?”

Now it's your turn to frown. “We two?” She pauses at that, looking around the small room. But there is no one here but you and her and the characters bleeding from the pages.

“Is Lane not with you?”

You shake your head, turning your attention back to the book in your hands. “She has the 8AM class today.” 

“She's not there,” Maria curtly responds. You can tell she's trying to keep her voice steady but there is a hint of anxiety regardless. 

“Then she overslept again,” you half guess-half ask, closing the book again.

“She's not at home either.”

An odd feeling crawls over your body. You can't remember what was in your hands a moment ago, but the question is forgotten in an instant. Maria carefully watches as you step out from between the shelves, her tone still gentle. “I've sent Tommy and Joel out to search. We thought you two snuck out.”

You feel numb as you shake your head. “No, I- I didn't see her this morning. I thought she was still asleep.” You rack your brain for the memories of this morning, of last night, of the last week even. But nothing comes to mind, nothing out of the ordinary.

“I was out late last night, finishing up some paperwork,” you mutter, more to yourself than the woman in front of you, retracing your steps in your mind. “Lane got home before me, I had dinner, we talked about blueberries-”

“Blueberries?” Maria asks, her hand already back on the doorknob. She seems restless and it's that fleeting detail that worries you more than anything. Maria stays in control. Always. 

“Yeah, we- It doesn't matter. I don't know where she is,” you finish lamely, getting up and joining her at the door. But she hasn't moved yet.

“You should stay at home. I'm sure she'll show up again soon and if she comes back to your place, someone should be there.” You nod but your mind is already drifting again. Lane’s been doing fine, good. So have you, really. Maria gently reaches for your shoulder, steering you out of the shed and towards the church, down the street that leads to the center of Jackson. 

You're passing the small graveyard that's protected by brick walls, the stones already withered, pale in contrast to the dark metal fence running along on top. The gate is ajar, but you barely pay it any attention as the information settles in your brain. It takes a few seconds for it to reach your mouth and leave your lips.

“She went out a few times.” 

“Out?” Maria enquires, raising an eyebrow as her attention shifts back to you.

“I thought she'd met someone. Cat and her were pretty close and I figured-” You give a small shrug. It's more than uncomfortable, suddenly, and absurd, that you're discussing Lane's private life so openly, with Maria of all people.

“Don't tell her I said that,” you add quickly. 

Maria nods as you reach the end of the brick wall. “I won't. I'll get back to the city hall and see if there’s any news yet. You go home.”

Your head nods as if on its own accord. Maria has already turned her back towards you when you pipe up. “Maria?” 

She pauses, her back straightening a bit. “Yes?”

“You don't think anything happened to Lane, do you?” 

The older woman shakes her head softly. “No. I'm sure she's fine. Now get home. Maybe she's already there.”

And she hurries off, leaving you at the corner of the street with a trembling body and a heavy feeling in your stomach. For a fleeting moment, you allow your thoughts to wander past the point you've been dreading to consider. What if something has happened? If Lane did sneak out, maybe with Cat, maybe alone, and got into some sort of situation? What if she's hurt?

The sky has turned from pink to a light blue, only a few clouds piling around the mountains on the horizon. You glance down at your hands, shaking ever so slightly. You decide to blame it on the cold. The cold that may be getting to your head as well. Because after a few moments, you turn on your heels, heading for the stables. It's only a few rows of houses until the large wooden wall looms in front of you, blocking out the little sunlight you could get in the morning. The wall that protects you from what lies beyond. Infected and Raiders and maybe, you think, as you slip into the stables, maybe answers.

if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing and commenting, every single notif on this fic makes my heart swell with love <3

[splendsay]

COD FF // Callsign: Sunshine // Ch. 49: Doe-Eyed

what's up, what's up, what's upppp. here, have some more build up, cuz that's what we do 'round here.

sorry for taking a month to get this to you. be nice to me and maybe I'll give you the follow up chapter this week who knows

..................................................................

Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 49: Doe-Eyed

Rating: 18+ !!MDNI!! Chapters: 49/? WC: 134,074 Pairing(s): TF141 x F!Reader (You) (no use of y/n) Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, suggestive content Chapter Excerpt (🚨spoilers!!🚨):

You stare at Slim for a few seconds. You're not sure how many. Time seems to stand still. 

Then -- "Maggie--"

She holds up a hand, cutting Cap off. Doesn't say anything. Doesn't drop your gaze. 

A challenge, then. 

Your next movements happen on autopilot. 

You push through Simon and Soap, your still-numb skin oblivious to their warmth. Or its absence as you pass by them entirely. They let you go, though Simon murmurs your name under his breath. Concern. Uncertainty. Warning. 

You don't look at him. 

You sidestep a few corpses, eventually stopping just a foot shy of her. It strikes you how small she is compared to you. Small, but -- hardened. Her jaw is set firmly. Derisively. She's still panting a little, dead zombies at her feet. Wearing her shotgun like a scarf, holding it in place with a casual wrist draped over either end. Her fingertips are white from the cold. Her cheek is splattered with thick, black sludge. 

You don't notice that last detail until your fist is colliding with it, transferring some of the grime onto you. 

She didn't expect it, so she goes down fast. Hard. Swearing like a sailor and clutching the side of her face. Her gun thunks against the snow as she releases an endless stream of cursed insults. Some you've heard from her lips before. Some you haven't. 

You can only stare down at her. A red haze still haloes your vision. You don't even bother to shake out your hand. You're sure it hurts, but, as of yet, you don't feel it. 

You do feel a little lighter. A fraction less burdened. It was stupid. Immature. Perhaps, destructive. 

But it felt good. You feel better. 

Strong hands lift you up by the armpits and carry you a few feet back. You don't protest. In fact, you go a little limp. 

You hear, but don't see, Cap offering some soothing words of comfort to Slim, who practically barks at him. 

Simon sighs in your ear.

"Bloody hell, Ace."

He sets you down and turns you toward him, gruffly clasping your chin in his hand. Firm, but still somehow gentle. Your eyes meet his. You bask in them for a moment. He's pretending to be stern. But there's an unmistakable twinkle there. The corners of your mouth flicker upward just a hair. 

Soap gingerly picks up your hand. Your right hand. Another one of your fingers is broken. The middle one, you think. You heard the bone crack. You're bad about leaving that knuckle stuck out too far. 

He clicks his tongue. 

"Gonna have to set this, lass."

"I know."

He swears under his breath. "Don't have anythin' on me."

"It's fine," you say, watching him inspect you. His touch is featherlight. "I can manage till we get back."

"You sure?"

"I'll be okay."

Simon's grip on your chin tightens just a little. 

"Ace."

"See, this is what the fuck I'm talkin' about," Slim hisses. You peer around Simon's head to find her still on the ground. She swats at Cap, who's trying to dab at a small gash on her cheek. Her nose is bleeding too. You socked her good. The thought doesn't fill you with joy. But you don't regret it either. 

Your eyes drop to the snow caked on Soap's boots. 

The confession sort of tumbles out. A whisper on the wind. No more within your control than the phase of the moon, or its draw on the tide. 

"My mom died today." 

The words are soft when you deliver them, but loud enough to be heard. The group, unsurprisingly, responds with silence. Even Slim. You glance up. Simon's face, where mischief had danced before, is threaded with sadness. Sympathy. Your heart pangs from the sweetness of it. And then again -- regret. For causing him any sorrow, even if it's simply on your behalf. 

It's why you hadn't said anything. That tenderness between you. 

Its fledgling twin between you and Soap. 

You're not quite sure why you're bothering to be honest now. 

"In that house."

"You should've told--"

"It...it was twenty years ago. But -- I...I can't go back there. Not...today. Maybe...not for a few days."

"Ace--"

"I...I'm sorry for stalling. I'm sorry. For...for wasting the day. I just...I couldn't do it."

"S'not entirely wasted," Soap says, gesturing to Slim's pack, the rolled up map still sticking out of the very top.

You bite your lip. "Maybe not. But...," you gesture to Slim. "She's right. She's been right all day."

Cap stands, shaking his head. "It was your call to make, Ace. None of us could do it for you."

"But you should have. We should've left hours ago. And I'm sorry I didn't just...say so sooner."

Simon strokes the underside of your chin with his index finger. "Why didn't you?"

Slim groans as she pushes herself up, pinching her nose with the hem of her sleeve. She glares at you, but is mercifully quiet.  

"Just needed to hit something first, I guess."

At that, she laughs. A hoarse, phlegmy guffaw. It devolves into a cackle as she wanders up to you, still holding her nose, and claps you on the back. 

"Fair enough, Barbie. Fair the fuck enough."

You blink, surprised. 

"Oh, don't go doe-eyed on me now. Consider us even. Now let's get the fuck out of here."

..................................................................... Links to: Spotify Playlist Full Fic

[freshluvr]

‘beautiful no matter what’

Summary: when y/n opens Snapchat and sees her face in the camera, she instantly gets insecure. She starts picking at her face, wanting desperately to get rid of the red spots that seemed to be the only thing she could see. When Chris noticed, he attempts to make her feel beautiful

Chris and y/n laid in comfortable silence on Chris’ bed. The faint sound of lil skies played from Chris’ speaker as the couple scrolled through their phones. y/n’s head was on Chris’ chest, and one of his hands absentmindedly ran through her hair. Every so often, one of them would adjust slightly to get more comfortable, but overall they hadn’t moved from their position for at least three hours.

y/n hadn’t felt pretty all week. She’d had acne since she was thirteen, and it constantly fluctuated in how bad it was though it never went away. This week specifically, she’d had an awful flare up. The spots were red and angry, mostly under the skin. Her face was constantly hot and sore, and nothing she did would soothe it. She tried her best to ignore it though, not wanting to annoy Chris with her insecurities. So far, she’d done well at acting as though it didn’t bother her, until she instinctively went to snap someone back.

Her face appeared on the screen, clearer and bigger than if she looked in the mirror. Chris had noticed the new brightness on her screen and looked at her phone. Upon seeing she was about to send a picture to someone, he dropped his hand from her hair to her boob and posed. However, his position soon dropped as he saw his girlfriend scratching her skin. He saw her rub harshly, and scratch at newly forced scabs, making many small parts of her face bleed. Tears filled y/n’s eyes as she continued to look at herself, not even realising Chris was staring at her with a concerned expression. That was, until her phone was snatched from her grip and turned off.

Chris grabbed her hand to stop her from picking at her acne, knowing first hand hours much she’d regret it in a couple hours. y/n tried to sit up, to move away from her beautiful, loving boyfriend. She felt disgusted in herself - like she wasn’t worthy of being anywhere near him looking how she did. Chris, of course, didn’t let this happen. He sat up quickly with her, grabbing her waist softly and effortlessly pulling her back next to him, angling her body so she was slightly facing him. y/n shut her eyes tightly and looked down, convinced that, if she met Chris’ eyes, all she’d be met with is pure disgust. Chris felt as if his heart shattered at the sight of it.

He knew what she was thinking, what was going through her head. He wasn’t sure what hurt him the most: the fact that she didn’t think she was the most beautiful girl in the entire world, or the fact that she didn’t trust him enough to make her feel beautiful. Chris grabbed her jaw gently, lifting her head to meet his eye level whilst softy stroking her hair with the other hand. Hesitantly, y/n opened her eyes, only to be met with the most loving look she’d ever seen. More tears filled the girls eyes as she took in how Chris was looking at her. Quickly, he swiped both his thumbs across each of her cheeks to get rid of the tears that were streaming.

“Tell me what’s going on, y/n.” Despite the concerned tone to his voice and the good intentions behind it, y/n knew he wasn’t asking her - he was telling her. At first, she stayed silent, worried that if she said anything then he’d laugh at her. Or worse, that he’d tell her to get out. That was until the next word came out of his mouth, and y/n’s heart shattered. “Please…” Chris knew why she was sad. He knew that she was insecure, and he knew why - despite still thinking she’d the most gorgeous woman he’s ever laid eyes on in his whole life. He knew what was wrong, he just needed her to say it. He knew it would hurt his heart to hear, but he also needed her to admit it. Not only to him, but to herself, the fact that she needed reassurance.

“I… I just…” she desperately tried. She attempted to put her head down once more, but Chris’ hand found her jaw again and held her face up to look at him as she spoke. He nodded at her, smiling softly as if urging her to say it. “I don’t like how I look… I… my face is disgusting.” y/n cried as she looked at Chris’ perplexed face. He knew she was feeling insecure, and he knew why, but to hear the word ‘disgusting’ come out of her mouth when describing herself, shocked Chris in ways he’s never been shocked before.

At first, Chris didn’t know what to do. What to say. He simply pulled her body forwards into his chest and hugged her tightly as she broke into a fit of sobs which were muffled by his hoodie. He rocked her slightly, trying to bring the worked-up girl as much comfort as he could. Thoughts were reeling around his head. Why would she think that? Why does she not know how beautiful she is? Why did she never say anything before? Finally, Chris spoke up, “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“But it’s tr-” “No. Don’t. Don’t even say that y/n. You’re beautiful okay. You’re actually starting to piss me off. How could you ever say that about yourself.” At this point, Chris had separated their bodies, holding onto y/n’s face firmly, shaking her slightly as he spoke to emphasise his point. “Chris-” “Stop y/n! Why can’t you see how fucking gorgeous you are? Not only that, but you’re empathetic, you’re funny, you’re selfless. Even if you were d…” he couldn’t even say the word, “even if you were what you said you are, it wouldn’t matter because you’re an amazing person! But you’re not! You’re not that word y/n. You’re fucking gorgeous. Okay?”

He looked at her, waiting for any sign that she understood what he was saying. Any sign that she was taking in his words and truly listening to him. His body flooded with relief as he saw her nod, a slight smile making its way onto her face. More tears fell down her face, though this time they were from a place of happiness and love as opposed to a place of insecurity and sadness. Chris beamed at the sight of her smile, however small it was. He pulled her face towards him, quickly yet gently. He started placing kisses all over her face. He kissed every bump, every scar. Every inch of her face was blessed by the pressure of his loving kiss.

For the first time in a very long time, y/n didn’t feel as though her acne was repulsive.

This is for my acne gals and my Chris gals. Please everyone remember: no matter how you look, you will be beautiful as long as you have a beautiful heart. I love you all so so much.

This isn’t a part of any series, I just really felt motivated to write this.

Creds to @issysh3ll for the dividers!!! I love them so much!!

tag: @chrissweetheart @dealerchrisgf @sturniololover-09 @lvrsturniolo @adoreeelana @matts-girlfriend @sophand4n4 - if you’re on this taglist but only want to be tagged in dealer!chris content then comment under here to let me know xx

𝐉ꨄ

[indigogvf]

Bottled up

Summary: Jake comforts you after a bad week at work.

Warnings: Crying? There’s no others that I can think of, just lots of comfort and fluff.

Word count: 1279

AN: Thanks for helping me decide which fic to do on my poll!! Im still gonna do the other two at some point, but Jake comfort was the winner so you’re getting this one first😁

Also, my requests are open!! I’d love to hear any ideas.

You just finished work, and you’re walking rather quickly to your car, whilst also desperately holding back tears to avoid your boss after he gave you a deadline for a presentation; a presentation he told you about yesterday. And the deadline is on Monday.

It’s Friday.

After the immense stress and pressure you’ve been holding in this week, it was safe to say you were now at your breaking point.

You practically threw yourself into your car as tears started streaming down your face, not wanting to catch the attention of any coworkers who might also be leaving. Everything that had even slightly upset or bothered you this week now seemed earth shattering as you finally let yourself feel all the emotions you’ve been pushing away. You were never one to talk about how you felt; you always felt as if no one really cared, or that you were being a burden. Everyone has their own stuff going on, why do they need yours to think about too?

You pulled up in the driveway, taking a deep breath before getting out of your car and making your way to the house. You walked in, chucking your keys on the side table and hanging your coat up. “Jake, I’m home.” You called out. You walked through to the kitchen to see where he was after you heard no response, and found him cutting up some type of vegetable, which you couldn’t quite see because he was in the way. “Hey. What are you making?” You questioned.

“Hey, honey. I’m making lasagna for dinner. I know it’s your favourite, and I wanted to do something nice for you.” He smiled. You took a deep breath, not wanting to start up the waterworks for the second time. He was so good to you.

“Oh. That’s very thoughtful of you, Jake. Thank you.” You returned his smile as he pulled you in for a sweet little kiss. “I’m gonna head upstairs and take a shower.” You began walking away,

“Wait!” He called, “How was work?”

You were really hoping you’d dodged that question.

“Uh.. yeah, it was fine.” You briskly walked away, desperately trying to avoid any further questions.

You failed.

“Just fine? Are you sure?” He paused for a moment, awaiting your response. When you hesitated, he continued. “You’ve been a little off with me this week.. have I done something wrong? Is there something going on elsewhere that’s bothering you?”

Fuck.

You hate this. You almost hate yourself for this. You’ve been pushing him away all week, attempting to avoid this exact conversation. As much as you want to just curl up on the couch with him and bathe in his love and affection, you knew yourself too well. You knew you’d crack and end up crying to him about how stressed you’ve been, which is exactly what you want to avoid. You hate that you’ve made him feel like he’s done something wrong. You can feel your lip quivering as you hold back your tears for the second time since you’ve come home. “I’m sorry. I.. I just-“ aaaand here it comes.

You put your head in your hands as you start bawling, trying to conceal the fact that you’re most definitely not okay. Although you think it’s fairly obvious, because Jake rushes over to you, embracing you in a tight hug as your body shakes against his. “Hey, it’s okay. Shhh. Just let it all out,” He says softly into your ear whilst gently stroking your hair. “Talk to me, baby. What’s going on?” He prods.

You collect yourself, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself enough to explain yourself. “I’m sorry for pushing you away all week. You didn’t do anything, I’ve just had a week from hell. I didn’t want to be a burden to you so I just kept it to myself, but I knew if you were to ask about my day, I’d crack.” You mumbled, feeling slightly ashamed because saying it out loud makes you feel slightly pathetic.

“What makes you think you can’t talk to me? You can always talk to me - about anything. I want to be there for you, honey. But I can’t if i don’t know when there’s something bothering you. Your problems will never burden me, I promise. Now, tell me what happened.” He reassures you, still giving gentle strokes across your hair.

You knew your thought process was slightly unnecessary when it came to Jake. He’s never made you feel like you can’t talk to him; in fact, you know you can talk to him. You assume it was from when you were a teenager and your two friends ignored you for being upset, and then proceeded to tell you it was draining to be around you. You’re glad that Jake shows you nothing of the sort.

“Well, on Monday, there was four clients who phoned and screamed at me down the phone for the way that their previous issues were handled. I didnt even deal with their original complaints. On Tuesday, my boss called me for a meeting about those calls and basically questioned my ability to do my job, despite the fact that I told him multiple times I didn’t handle their original complaints. On Wednesday, my coworker shouted at me in front of the entire office about how i didn’t send him some documents he needed, even though he didn’t tell me about them. On Thursday I split my coffee on my cream coloured jumper and had to walk around with a giant stain down my chest. Today, my boss gave me a deadline for a presentation. He told me about the presentation on Thursday, and the deadline is on Monday.” You took a breath, feeling like you were suffocating because of how quickly and passionately you listed all of the problems of the week.

“Oh, love. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to be treated this way. You’re always working so hard, it’s a shame they can’t see that. Have you thought about working somewhere else? You deserve to be respected and seen for your work, and I don’t think you’re going to get that at this company.” He spoke in the most delicate voice.

You thought for a moment, contemplating his suggestion of getting a new job. “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about that; but I think you might be right.” You replied.

Jake pulled you closer to him, placing your head on his chest. “You know you can always talk to me, don’t you?” He asked.

“I do. I guess I just overthink it sometimes.” You said, reassuring him.

“Do you promise you’ll talk to me next time?” He held his pinky finger out.

“I pinky promise, Jake.” You shook his pinky as you smiled at each other.

He pulled you in for a gentle kiss to your lips and then planted kisses around your face, leaving an extra big one on your forehead. You giggled in response, already feeling much better.

“Why don’t we eat our lasagna and try to come up with some solutions that might make your work easier, and then cuddle on the couch with a movie on in the background, hm? That sound good, pretty girl?” He suggested.

“Mmm, that sounds amazing. Thank you, Jake. I love you.” You nuzzled your head into his chest. You could hear his heartbeat gently thumping in your ear.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He placed a kiss on your head whilst simultaneously giving you a tight squeeze.

You loved him so much, it was almost too much. But you especially loved how loved he made you feel.

[asher-agere]

Hear me out... Ranpo as a regressor when him and Fukuzawa have just met. Learning to trust each other - aurghhh ! (thwomp from Mario noise).

I AM SO HEARING YOU OUT. I love their relationship, they are so regressor and caregiver coded… THAT PICTURE FROM THE WAN. THAT ENTIRE EPISODE FROM THE WAN

Little Ranpo + Caregiver Fukuzawa (Beginnings)

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✦ Big Ranpo can deduce anything. World’s greatest detective! So he knows Fukuzawa wouldn’t judge him. He knows Fukuzawa would help him. But he also knows that Fukuzawa has no idea what age regression is. And the idea of needing to explain it is so nauseating… Just thinking about it has pushed him into a tantrum before. Overall it seems much easier to just not. He can take care of himself! He’s perfectly capable!

★ However… Baby Ranpo isn’t quite as good with his deduction skills. Maybe he miscalculated? He’s been dropping less often, so it was harder to pull himself out of headspace. He was down for longer than he usually is… And Fukuzawa came home. And saw him. Sitting on the grounding sucking on his thumb and clutching a blanket, like a baby. What would Fukuzawa think? In his regressed state he couldn’t get into the presidents head to figure it out. Not knowing things is so frustrating. It makes him feel stupid. It wasn’t long before the meltdown started, big fat tears streaming down the little one’s face. Everything just felt like too much!

✦ Fukuzawa was certainly stunned by this. He wouldn’t have really questioned the boys behavior. Blankets can be nice for anyone. Sucking on his thumb? Perhaps some form of oral fixation? Ranpo is clearly autistic and the two can be related (NOT IN A SEXUAL WAY IN THIS SITUATION). But bursting into tears? Something is wrong. And now Fukuzawa has to do something. He can’t just leave Ranpo like this…

★ All Fukuzawa has to do is calm him down. Ranpo tends to shut down a lot when he gets overstimulated with work, perhaps this is similar? So Fukuzawa simply pats Ranpo on the head (They’ve discussed previously that touch like that is ok to avoid unnecessary communication during stressful times) and sits down next to him. Fukuzawa does a gentle groan as he sits, maybe he mutters a small complaint about his back or his knees… And Ranpo calms down because... That’s the presidents biggest concern? Not him acting like a big baby?

✦ Fukuzawa just calmly talks to Ranpo to soothe him, maybe placing a hand on and gently rubbing the boys shoulder. He doesn’t ask, simply talks about how his day was, praises Ranpo on whatever work was done that day… Tiny things. And eventually Ranpo calms down! But Ranpo knows he can’t explain well right now, so he whines that he’s tired, he’s trying really hard to talk normal too “‘M sleepy… Talk in… Mornin’?” Fukuzawa of course agrees, gently tucking Ranpo into bed

★ In the morning Ranpo swallows his anxieties and approaches the president, and he explains. He knows that Fukuzawa doesn’t know what age regression is so he explains, then says that he is a regressor. Fukuzawa certainly seems confused, but he almost immediately offers to take care of Ranpo when he’s like that. He’s already taking care of the boy in so many ways… What’s one more going to matter? Ranpo, relieved that it didn’t take them long to get to this point, gladly accepts

(“Hey Ash this reads more like a Drabble or a fanfic than headcanons-“ Hush. I had this magical thing called inspiration, headcanons incoming!)

✦ Once Ranpo knows Fukuzawa is willing to take care of him he starts relying on him more! Unless he knows the president is busy. He doesn’t want to be a bother! Many times Fukuzawa has walked into a room to find Ranpo curled up sucking on his thumb, Fukuzawa has to explain over and over that even if he’s busy he still wants to take care of Ranpo. It’s like a break for both of them. Breaks are important. Besides finding Ranpo like this only makes him feel bad, Ranpo doesn’t want that of course

★ So much cat stuff! As Fukuzawa starts looking at little things, he’s drawn to cat themed items… Ranpo liked cats right? He didn’t hate them at the very least. Good enough. Occasionally he’ll get something candy themed but it’s mostly cats, with Fukuzawa as a caregiver Ranpo learns to love cats. Before he thought they were ok? After Fukuzawa starts taking care of him though it’s like an obsession. Fukuzawa’s love for cats is contagious

✦ Ranpo definitely has sensory issues! So Fukuzawa is very careful to pick out soft gentle clothes for him! Ranpo can get overwhelmed easily. Whether it’s because of textures, work, sounds, meltdowns are very common! Fukuzawa knows to get him into a comfortable and familiar environment (Usually Fukuzawa’s office) then just lets him calm down! Things like noise cancelling headphones are always at the ready!

★ I think Fukuzawa likes just sitting with his little one, this definitely applies to Ranpo! Fukuzawa can sit at a desk doing paperwork and Ranpo curls up under the desk, leans against Fukuzawa’s legs and watches a cartoon! Whenever he goes to make the little one a drink he’ll also make himself tea! Once Ranpo tried the tea thinking he was being sneaky… He instantly spit it out and started crying because it didn’t taste sweet enough for him ( ">﹏< ) Of course he was given hot cocoa to wash out the yucky taste!

✦ At first Fukuzawa tried getting Ranpo to eat less sweets! But he quickly gave up on that, it was just miserable. Instead he pushes brushing teeth, and makes deals! He’ll allow Ranpo to have sweets, but Ranpo has to eat something healthy first! Ranpo still eats far too many sweets from Fukuzawa’s perspective, but at least he knows Ranpo is being healthy enough to make up for it!

★ I genuinely almost forgot nicknames… My favorite part. Nicknames time right at the end then! Fukuzawa definitely uses nicknames like “Baby” “Little One” and “Sweetie”! Classics, but they make Ranpo feel so happy and tiny! I think Ranpo either calls Fukuzawa “Fufu” or “Zawa” either one works! Sometimes he’ll say “Dada” but not too often? He gets embarrassed when he says that one hehe

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Wow this got long… Uhh. Can you guys tell I love this duo? They’re so perfect for agere… I could go on about them for hours. Anyway! Have an amazing day/night!

[darling-archeron]

@littedidyouknow, surprise! I was your Secret Santa for @acotargiftexchange. I had so much fun writing this fic for you. We talked about how you liked hurt comfort and would change how some of feysand's trauma was handled, so I combined that with some holiday fluff. This is chapter 1/3. I hope you enjoy - happy holidays!

With every solstice, it seems the Inner Circle grows. As Nyx's first solstice approaches, Feyre and Rhysand celebrate holiday traditions, both new and old, while grappling with unhealed wounds.

After a night of fitful tossing and turning, it was safe to say that when light streamed through the bedroom window, Feyre wasn’t ready to face the day.

Between Nyx’s fussing, Rhys’s restlessness, and her bad dreams, she would have been just as well off not going to bed at all. All week, she had felt drained, and last night had been no different.

At least, Nyx was often good about sleeping soundly in the morning. A true Night Court child, it was the late hours that kept him awake. Judging by the slant of the sun – or what she could glimpse of it, through her barely-open eyes – she and Rhys should have another hour of peace.

Rhys, it seemed, had also managed to fall into a fitful sleep at last. Despite his tossing and turning, he had still ended up nestled in her arms.

Right where she liked him. Surrounded by his warmth. Close enough to feel his heartbeat.

She had tried to keep her unrest concealed from Rhys. She wasn’t sure why – they didn’t keep things from one another. She knew he would listen in quiet understanding to whatever she was feeling. But she got the sense he had been feeling the same way – even if he didn’t show it in his waking hours, his fitful sleep was enough of an indication.

Even so, knowing she wasn’t alone in her unrest didn’t stop her from feeling completely ungrateful and selfish.

This time of year was supposed to be for celebration and thankfulness. And yet, here she was, with everything she could want in the world – a family, a home, peace, a loving mate, and a healthy child – and she still felt…discontented. Heavy.

A little haunted.

Gods, she was ungrateful.

More long minutes passed until she felt Rhys stir beside her.

“Good morning, love” he murmured, though he sounded as exhausted as she felt, even as he pressed a kiss into her hair.

She mumbled something barely coherent back, leaning into his touch.

“Sleep well?”

“Not really,” she admitted.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, sounding a little more awake. Of course, they were both used to getting up during the night to calm down Nyx when he woke. This was different.

“I’m just so tired,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“Did I keep you awake?” he asked with equal softness, pressing her closer.

“No, I don’t think I would have slept either way.” She rubbed her eyes, trying to clear the drowsiness away while cringing against the sunlight streaming in.

Noticing her squint, Rhys flicked his fingers, and the heavy navy curtains immediately snapped shut.

“What’s bothering you?”

“I think I could ask you the same thing.” He had dodged bringing the unrest up as much as she had in past conversations, which was unlike both of them.

“Avoiding the question, are we?” He kept his tone light, but Feyre felt the undercurrent of concern. On a different morning, she might have tried to continue to tease and play, but…she didn’t realize how much of her fear and exhaustion she had been keeping from him. How long until fate tried to tear them apart again?

It haunted her, to think of how they had cheated death thrice. They couldn’t be so lucky again.

“This probably sounds silly, and maybe it’s selfish of me. For the first time in years, it feels like there’s no major disaster looming. Everyone is healthy, and our relationships with the other courts and the continents are going well. I know I shouldn’t be anxious. But it’s as if…for the first time in years – I really have time to think about everything that’s happened. During the War, and after.”

Wordless for once, Rhys just held her, rubbing soothing circles up and down her back.

“I think I’m feeling the same way you are,” he finally said. “Our first few solstices together, the relief was outweighing everything. Surviving the war and everything that came before…”

And Nyx’s birth, too. He didn’t need to say it.

“I just felt so much disbelief that we had made it through, that we had each other. But now…I just keep thinking about all the ways things have gone wrong, all the ways things could go wrong. I know it doesn’t do any good. I don’t want to ruin the present, by dwelling on what-ifs. Perhaps it makes me ungrateful, to still feel grief now. But my mind…it keeps trying to drag me back to times I’d rather not remember.”

“No, Rhys,” Feyre interjected sharply – and she couldn’t deny how cathartic it felt, to hear her own doubts in him. And if she could reassure him – she could reassure herself.

This is what they did. Blamed themselves for things they shouldn’t, patched up each other’s wounds. Held each other through the dark.

It was comforting, to know that she wasn’t alone in her exhaustion. That Rhys was beside her, as he was in so many things.

“I understand,” she continued. “Now that things have settled down. It’s like I actually have time to process some of the things that happened. In a way that…I suppose I didn’t before. I suppose I didn’t want to tell you, to make you feel bad.”

That first solstice, after the war, everything had been so fresh, so new. There had been sorrow, yes, and a sense of loss, but the warmth of love surrounding her for the first time in so long had kept the cold at bay.

Her mate didn’t say anything, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. Rhys didn’t say anything for a long while, but she could guess that his mind was half Under the Mountain.

“It’s nothing worth remembering,” he insisted, but she caught the way he stiffened.

Gently, she turned his head to face hers, their eyes meeting. “That doesn’t mean it won’t need a way to come out, one way or another.” If she could save him some nightmares tonight by having this conversation now…

“You’re the one who said you were tired, darling. I shouldn’t be putting on this you.”

She frowned. “Where is this coming from, Rhys? Let me share your burdens, as you share mine.”

Together, as they were in all things.

Still, he frowned. “I…I don’t know if I can right now. Maybe later?”

Rubbing a soothing hand up and down his back, she sent a pulse of understanding down the bond. He hadn’t wanted to talk last night, either, when she had asked him why he was restless.

He would be ready at some point, she trusted, but that conversation wasn’t what he needed right now.

“We can talk about something else. What about other Solstices - when you were younger? How did you celebrate – where did the snowball fight come from?” She asked to get his mind on more pleasant things, but also of her own curiosity. No matter how much she learned of her mate’s 500 years of life, it seemed there was always more to hear.

He considered the question, idly playing with a strand of her golden-brown hair. She snuggled up closer to his comforting warmth.

“When I was very young, my least favorite part was always the court parties I would have to attend. Long, drawn-out events, mostly in Hewn City. Mor and I would always try to sneak off, only for one of our parents or nannies to drag us back by our ears.”

“Your parents let a child attend revels in the Court of Nightmares?” she asked incredulously. She had seen parties there that bordered on orgies.

“Oh, we were sent to bed long before things were that wild. The night felt like it dragged on long enough as it was – once, Mor almost fell asleep, falling face first into her roasted duck.”

“As I’m sure is no surprise, my father wasn’t much of a family man. Certainly not by the time I was born. If it wasn’t for my mother, I’m sure we barely would have celebrated outside the Court of Nightmares. And my mother, for as much as her chosen family meant to her, quickly realized that the strife of getting my father to stop thinking about politics for one day was more trouble than it was worth. When I was training in Illyria, it often got a little quieter around Solstice. For most, it was their only leave for the year. I was one of the lucky ones, with my mother living in camp, and my father occasionally dragging me away for one of his own lessons…”

“What a lucky little High Lord, getting special privileges,” Feyre teased, flicking his nose.

Rhys scoffed. “If you can call sitting through endless meetings in the Court of Nightmares, or being chased through the woods by whatever my father decided to send after me “special privileges.”

“But what I meant was that Cassian didn’t have any family they cared to visit outside of the camps. So there were years when it was just my mother and the two of us – later the three of us, once Azriel showed up. She would make special treats, and always sewed new clothes for the three of us. I wish I could say our gifts were always as thoughtful.” He chuckled. “At the very least, she always made a show of being pleased with whatever we had come up with. Those are some of my favorite Solstice memories.”

She felt his mental presence gently slipping through the walls of her mind, sharing a memory through his eyes, of his mother and his brothers, eating cookies and sharing presents by the crackling fire.

“I swear, I never would have thought such a thing was possible, but after my sister was born, she softened my father. When Celeste was young, there were a few years when the four of us would get together in Velaris. My sister would throw a fit if my father didn’t make some kind of effort to be with us through the holidays – and with anyone else, I would have sworn the holiday would have been better without the prick. But…he was kinder to her. Like he wanted to give her the childhood the rest of us hadn’t been afforded.”

Feyre listened attentively; hand braced gently on his arm as Rhys immersed himself in the years long past. 

“Celeste loved the holidays. Loved any reason to celebrate. Her favorite tradition was always baking, and she’d stay in the kitchen for hours and help my mother and the servants prepare dessert. When she got a little older, she would always try and join my brothers and I during our snowball fights. I would usually tell her to stop being a pest. But Az…he was the good one. He would let her join his team, pummel Cass and I. Of course, we’d always tell him that his win that year didn’t count, since he had extra help.” Her mate smiled at the memory.

“What else?” Feyre asked softly, eager to learn more pieces about the girl she had never met.

“She loved to ice skate. That was usually what the two of us did together.”

“You? On ice skates?” Feyre couldn’t help but interject in disbelief, incredulous at the idea of Rhys gliding across the ice. Not that he wasn’t graceful, but it didn’t exactly fit in with the idea of Illyrian brute strength.

“You doubt my abilities? I was an excellent skater. I’m the one who taught Celeste.”

She pictured Rhys, the dutiful big brother, spinning around on the ice with his sister, faster and faster, both of them laughing and carefree.

“You said you were an excellent skater. Are you still?”

“I haven’t done it in years, but you should know I’m a quick study,” he said slyly.

“Would you want to pick it up again?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, why don’t we do all of those things. The skating, the baking,” Feyre suggested.

He didn't answer for a moment, turning over her words, and Feyre was struck by the thought that he might not want part in these traditions with anyone other than his sister, that she was invading on a treasured memory.

Before she could brush her words away, change the subject, a smile played at Rhys's lips.

“You wouldn’t be bored? Doing all of these old traditions with me?”

She shook her head. “Of course not! And…I think it would help me, too, to spend time with you. To just be. I’ve been trying to stay so busy and focused on the future, our future, but…I can’t outrun everything. Maybe, if we can find some time, it could be good. To just be together, in the moment.”

And maybe if they were lucky, the magic of Solstice could bring a little healing to them both.  

"I'd like that a lot. We could bring Nyx along, too.”

“There are three days until Solstice. How many activities do you think we can fit in?”

“You’re in luck, my darling wife. As an early birthday present, I’ve cleared both of our calendars. Now, I’ll admit the activities I had in mind originally were a little more…physical,” he said, and she was very aware of his hand creeping up the side of her shirt, “but…few things would make me happier.”

“Well then, it sounds like a plan,” Feyre said, pressing a long, slow kiss to his mouth.

And for the first time in days, she felt lighter.

[ilalos]

A lady’s plea (Benedict Bridgerton x reader) Blurb

Summary: You are set to be married to a horrible man and the only way to get out of it is to find a better bachelor that will impress your father, and who is better than Mr. Benedict Bridgerton the most elegible bachelor of the ton (after his older brother got married).

Warnings: Non-descriptive nudity, crying, talk of death.

Word count: 505

A/N: Hello! This a teeny tiny blurb about and idea I have been toying around with but I would like some feedback before fully diving into it (my anxiety is flaring up, sorry) So if you this it is interesting and have any predictions to how it could go I would appreciate it if you could tell me :) I do have a draft of the ending but I would still love to see what you think.

Benedict sat petrified in his brother’s office while he watched you, a respectable daughter of a lord, getting undressed until you were left in just your chemise as tears streamed down your face and your body trembled with little hiccups. He finally snapped out of his stupor when you began undoing your chemise, which would’ve left you completely naked in front of him.

“Please, stop” he placed a palm in front of his eyes as he said that “Get dressed, for heaven’s sake” That only seemed to make you sob harder.

“If you could please just look at me, sir” you pleaded “you’ll see that I’m not that bad to look at, a-and I can provide you with children and I can lead a household and I won’t even be bothered by you having a mistress and also our marriage wouldn’t be long, I was sickly as a child so I will probably die in childbirth l-l-like my mother did and you will get to keep the dowry” you fell on your knees and crawled until you could place your hands on his knees “I can’t marry lord Wilson, he has had 4 wife’s already and all have died terrible slow deaths, please!” You pleaded and let your head fall towards your chest while more sobs racked your body.

Benedict could not help the way his heart ached when seeing you in such a vulnerable state, naked and crying while sitting on the floor like a dog. He felt deep sorrow for you as he knew about lord Wilson and the rumors that surrounded him and his past marriages, people whispered that he was experimenting on them, some strange medicine he learned in a faraway land.

A knock on the door startled both of them and Anthony’s voice could be heard from behind the entranced asking if everything was okay.

“Don’t come in!” Shouted Benedict as he hurried to pick up your clothes.

“Benedict, it has been more than enough time for you to be with an unchaperoned lady, unless you want her reputation tainted and our mother to murder you, I suggest you let me and Kate in right now!” The eldest Bridgerton said and the lock was seen wiggling again.

“Just a moment, brother” Benedict was hastily tying your corset but it was proving to be a difficult task because you were still crying and being uncooperative.

“Benedict, we have the key, we’re coming in” announced Kate, and sure enough, the key was heard opening the door.

Time stood still for all four of them as Kate and Anthony took in the scene in front of them. You were half-dressed, bent over the couch crying and Benedict was holding the laces of your corset. Anthony’s face slowly started changing colors until there was a single shade of red from the top of his head to the top of his collar. Kate was quick to close the door just as her husband found his voice to shout.

“What on earth is going on here?!”