#just snippets that i put slowly in order

[chunky-ruckus]

Unfinished fic: Lost in Coma (and Covered in Cake)

This fic was an Ardata character study slash ardata / chahut smut fic. I didn't get too far past the beginning; I needed to replay her friendsim. The fic felt a little ooc.

___

Prose written:

You were hatched in the red. Up an eye, you guess, but always something missing. Something lost. So, you know a thing or two about living in deficit. You’re attuned to all the itty bitty minutia of it, all those things you’ve lost.

Tonight it’s your idiot followers again. Highlights from last morning’s stream include: you’re loosing [sic] your touch, blue and wheeree’s thee guuts, ‘daataa? and ur manikure is lookin whakk, babygirl and more pet-names than a fucking porno. And who asked them, anyway? Like you’re someone to fucking pity.

Still, you scowl at the feeling of your traitorous heart stuttering in your chest when you look at your follower count. In the red. Again. 

Your hand itches toward the screwdriver.

A feeling flashes as your fingers brush the rough plastic. The desire to drive it into your socket and escape yourself, though you aren’t sure if the desire is your own or just some idiot’s fleeting memory you picked up along the way. But, suddenly, you’re craving steak, and you’re thinking of them.

A hm. A hm hm hm! You’re laughing a stifled laugh. How preposterous! You’re cerulean. A highblood; violence comes natural to you. Too bad for the philistines. 

The light from your husktop is giving you a fucking miiigraiine. You rub your eyes, providing counter pressure. When you pull away, some of your eyelashes have come away in your palms, stuck in the mascara. Oozy swipes of pitch sticky on your skin. 

You suppose you are a blueblood, in the sense that a ghost is a person. Sure, you occupy. Yes, you appear. The burgundies can sense you and they are afraid. But place hand to skin and it would phase right through. You aren't there, not really, haunting not a house but your caste, your cast; you’re playing a part but really, there's nothing substantial to you at all.

You think it might be because there’s something askew inside you, stewing low in your belly like this morning's malevolent parasite. Cut open anyone else, pull out their guts and put 'em on the table, and everything will curl wetly back back into place with enough time.

But you? You’re something different. Built wrong, from the inside. Cut you open, slice from hip to rib, and your guts would never stop spilling. Slide out of you and flee. Wet and slithering and hateful. Sucking your blood and viscera from your body in a never ending gush.

And, you think, that's why you bring them to your red room. Isn’t that trollmanity? To be fascinated by the unfamiliar? Isn’t that why people followed you in the first place? 

Your fist clenches; the eyelashes stuck to your palm tickle your fingers.

Fuck them.

Still, losing followers is becoming something of a trend. You need to... Do. Something. Something new.

Your arms cross over your stomach like you’re holding in your traitorous guts even now. Something drops in your belly- a feeling you refuse to name- even as you sneer through the feeling. 

Troll Picasso cut his fucking ear off for this shit, and you’re no troll Picasso. You won’t lose an eye, not even for another.

The moons roll high in the night like even the sky and stars are sick of your shit. That flavor of raw meat lingers in your tongue, curling your upper lip.

Maybe it’s true, then. Maybe your act is getting old.

It’s the middle of the night. Fuck it, you may as well admit it. You’re thinking of them. That bloom of warmth they put right inside you. It feels too right; you need something ugly....

(Your eyes are killing you.)

...Counterpressure.

(Taking too much space up in your head.)

And, you realize, your guts are roiling; you’re hungry, you guess. But you’re hungry all the time, something awful and aching that can’t be sated.

Perhaps it’s true, then... 

You’re just like your lusus.

[LINE BREAK]

What sort of piece of shit friend would you be if you didn’t religiously track the whereabouts of your one and only? And religiously is right; what the fuck where they doing with the funny folk? At the hive of worship, no less.

Still, you suppose it can’t be helped for a helpless, hapless, hornless idiot- said affectionately, of course- to find their way towards the ugly. Like attracts like.

And this place attracted you, tonight, which has to be some sort of cosmic fucking metaphor. The hive of violence stands before you stained in swirling glass and centuries of blood and shitty soda.

Your mind stirs, the familiar feeling of the weaker-willed in distress calling you from within. You’re disgusted by the pull they have on you; how their mind affects yours because your mind is always listening. Hey, it’s not like you can turn your psychicality off.

Without your permission, your traitorous stride has taken you to stand in front of a pair of heavy, mahogany doors. Inlaid in the wood on either side are two skulls, one painted in a ghoulish smile, the other in a frown. The sexy, clownish curlicues of their horns do little to detract from your desire to press your hand to the wood.

Your hand pulls away wet and globby, a puppet string of warm-hued blood lingering between your hand and the door. 

You scowl. What, they couldn’t have posted “Wet Paint” signs? You rub the coagulated blood between your fingers, comfort found in the familiar. Peering closer, and, yes, the doors are shiny wet. You catch a glimpse of your reflection, distorted over blood clots and the whirl of the wood, and fix your hair. And, god, your eyes are all fucked up. Using your nail, you neaten the lines of your eyeliner and scratch away stray streaks of mascara.

You hate looking in the mirror. It’s something lonely people do, like they have no one else to share the irony with. Like they have to look inwards to get the joke. But this? Reflected in blood like you are? You finally look like yourself. 

You make a pose, smiling malevolently with your hand demurely covering your mouth, and, like a shitty horror movie, the door opens a crack with a foreboding creak.

___

Outline / Snippets (kinda):

(It isn’t her fault she’s so unkempt. Clowns love the dishevelment; their raison d’être.)

(Yes, you’re inspired. Maybe you don’t kill them right away. Kill them slowly, start with their spirit. Give them life in trickles and take it away only slightly faster. Your lusus would love that. The idea makes you tired. It’d be so much work. So little reward.)

(Chahut and Ardata fight: data sends te rusties after chahut, chahut cuts them down lazily, no effort. She’s an artist (cue anger that Chahut doesn’t suffer for her art, justify data’s superiority) Later, checkov’s rustie: Data sends one of the half dead towards Cahhut and Chahut voodoos them, successfully getting into data’s mind.)

(Paint her face and call her holy? Are you one a them girles that buys into that eyeliner sharper than a knife shit? Chahut cuts her axe next to data’s eyeliner with the steady hand of one whos spend sweeps practicing in the mirror)

[trivia-yandere]

The app is so dry. We miss you on here. I think it’s time for you to make a comeback. Do you have anything small like a snippet to just feed us

dry you say?

what are you willing to do?

After managing to dodge your property manager out of rent for two months, you're left in a vulnerable position when he finally comes looking for you.

word count: 4.973

warning: smut, light yandere tendancies nothing too crazy (yet), power imbalance, dirty talking, kissing, nipple sucking/rubbing, oral sex, dry humping, fingering,

“What are you willing to do?” Is exactly what was told to you, words you should’ve expected after 2 months now. You had managed to ignore all the phone calls and emails and dodge whenever your property manager came knocking on your door expecting his rent money. 

Today, however, you couldn’t. You woke up to banging on your front door. A loud, never-ending pound against the fragile door that your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. You wouldn’t have opened the door if you didn’t hear the man yell behind it - “If you don’t open, I’m using my key to come in.”

You leaped to your feet and towards your closet to put on a robe. Your hands were jittery and you didn’t want to see the property manager now; especially at 3 A.M. Weren't there rules on “quiet time”? Could he really be here at this time, banging on your door disturbing not only you, but your neighbors, as well? And even using his key to open your door at this time of night, as well, could be a lack of privacy and safety!

Your feet slam against the cold hardwood floor as you make your way out of your room and down the long hallway. He had since stopped knocking and now, as you get closer, you hear your doorknob jittering. He was going to come in and force you out if you didn’t answer.

Your hand wraps around the door knob and you force it open yourself. You squeeze it as you come face to face with the tall, young man. You swallow as your eyes reach his dark ones, a jolt in your stomach. Even underneath the dim hallway lights, Jungkook’s - the Property Manager and the owners youngest son - lip piercing sparkles. His eyes roam your face and then glances up to inside your apartment. “You haven’t packed yet.”

You bite your lip. Jungkook made you nervous. He was handsome, a man that belonged in a magazine or strutting down a runway. His face was sculpted perfectly from the Gods above. His physique is slim yet muscular and his arm is littered with so many tattoos that each time you get a glimpse of him, you find yourself counting them. 

“Jungkook-“

“It was hard getting in contact with you. Change your number?” Jungkook tilts his head at you. He proceeds to lean against your door frame, foot pressed between the door so you don't have the chance to close it on him. You weren’t going to regardless.

“No.” you murmur, defeated. You cross your arms over your chest, wanting to avoid his intense gaze. Half because you were embarrassed about being caught in this vulnerable situation and because Jungkook was far too attractive for you not to be flustered.

“You owe 2 months worth of rent.” Jungkook says slowly, as if he was talking to a child. “Cash, money order or card? There would be a charge if you use card.” Jungkook says. “But, if you wire it directly to me, I’ll cover the cost.”

You swallow and take a deep breath. You uncross your arms and hang your head. “I…I don’t have it.”

Jungkook knows this - it’s been close to 3 months. He had to watch the cameras on your floor just to get accustomed to your routine, and even then he never had the chance to catch you. 3 A.M. wasn’t ideal for either of you, but it’s what he had to do to get your attention. He didn’t want  to put an eviction notice on your door without having the chance to formally speak with you.

“You don’t.” Jungkook says. It isn’t a question, more of a statement. He then inhales deeply. “So…you plan on squatting here?” he tilts his head, watching you closely. He takes in your features - frightened and alarmed eyes that attempt to blink awake.

Jungkook waits for your answer to come and when it doesn't, he lets out a short snort. He doesn’t move from your doorway and instead decides to remain standing there, intense eyes on yours. He doesn’t blink and you can feel the hair on your skin rise ever so slowly.

“I…should have contacted you.” you murmur after a few uncomfortable moments. “I-”

“You got anything to drink?” Jungkook interrupts, his eyes finally blinking away from you and back inside your home. “I’m thirsty.”

You blink, a few seconds pass before you nod your head gently. “I got…milk?” you murmur. “Strawberry milk. Water.”

“Strawberry milk is fine.” Jungkook says and when neither of you move, he asks. “Can I come in?”

Your nerves don’t go away as you grab the small pouch of strawberry milk from your fridge and hand it to Jungkook. He’s seated at your breakfast table, his eyes noticing how vacant your fridge was from where he sat. A few bottles of water, some yogurts, milk pouches and other miscellaneous items inside.

You lean against the counter as Jungkook opens the milk pouch and begins to drink the milk. It’s silent - eerily so - as you await for Jungkook to say anything. You begin to go through your mind to think of anything to say to excuse your lack of rental payment.

“Jungkook-”

“Lost your job?” Jungkook questions. 

Your lips form into a line when Jungkook speaks up. He sits back into your chair and spreads his legs slightly. He watches you closely.

“Your fridge is kinda…bare.” Jungkook states. “And you’re late on rent. You haven’t paid the electric bill in the same amount of time as you haven’t paid rent so.” Jungkook mentally calculates it all. “You’re behind quite a lot. I’ve covered it.”

“C-Covered it?” you shake your head. “How-”

“I’ve paid for it.” Jungkook nods. “What’s going on, Y/N? I cannot help if you don’t speak with me.”

This is what you were attempting to avoid all this time. You thought you had time to get another job and pay back what you owed - only it wasn’t that easy. You applied to far too many jobs to not get a call back. You worked through what little savings you had until it was all gone and it left you here, ducking and dodging Jungkook until he ultimately found you.

At 3 A.M.

You inhale deeply and exhale with a defeated look. “I’m broke.” you murmur, as if he didn’t already know. “I lost my job a few months back and I’ve been trying to find another.”

Jungkook is silent, dark eyes looking your way as before, unblinking.

“I should’ve told you and…” your body warms with embarrassment. There wasn’t going back to the way it was before. Obviously, Jungkook was going to start the eviction process and you were going to be living out of your car.

“You don’t have any family.” 

Jungkook’s words catch you off guard. You tilt your head a bit, blinking at the man before he adds. “No emergency contacts. I’ve looked into your records.” he says. His foot gently begins to tap against the hardwood floor. “That’s weird.” he states. “Usually, we try to get a hold of any emergency contacts if we cannot get a hold of the renter.”

Makes sense, you think. You nod slowly. “Yeah, I’m…estranged from my family.” you admit. You could have found it weird that he would check, yet if you were in his position you are sure you would’ve, as well. “So it’s just me.”

Jungkook is unblinking again and his gaze causes a sense of unease to flow through you. You bite your bottom lip, your nerves causing your index finger and thumb to rub together.

“My father,” Jungkook begins and his voice catches you off guard. It’s been a full minute without anyone speaking. “has gone through the eviction process.”

Your throat swells and you’re unable to say anything. You suppose you should’ve known this was going to happen. Afterall, the show must go on. No one lived for free - not in this day and age.

“I guess I should begin to pack.” you mumble quietly, your head hanging a bit. You don’t want to look at Jungkook now - or at all. You were exhausted. Your mothers voice rings through your head - that you going to the city was a mistake. That you’d regret going and would find yourself back where you belonged.

That was years ago. You couldn’t return now; not after you’ve gone no contact.

“What are you willing to do?”

Jungkook’s voice, once again, surprises you. Slowly, your eyes lift from the ground to his face. You stand a bit straighter, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Excuse me?” you ask softly. “I…I’m not sure what to do. I…” you exhale a bit. “...I…can sell some things and-”

“That’s what you’re willing to do?”

Jungkook’s eyes are intense, you notice. They’re on you now, staring even deeper. His face is unreadable and there’s an uneasy feeling going through you. “What do you suggest I do?”

It’s a question you didn’t want to ask as there’s hundreds of things you could do. You could do what you suggest and sell your items - but that only meant you’d be in an apartment with nothing in it and still no steady income.

You could do what Jungkook’s father wants and it was to leave and live out of your car. You could still sell your stuff and keep the money until it holds you over.

Your head was beginning to hurt just thinking about it all.

The chair scraps against the hardwood floor as Jungkook stands. It only takes two steps until he’s directly in front of you. His eyes are casted down to look at you and you suddenly feel small - not entirely in size, but in power. You finally began to notice the glint in Jungkook’s eyes, something that isn’t innocent like you initially intended.

“Y/N,” Jungkook begins, raising a hand so that it settles onto your cheek. His hands are surprisingly soft for a man of his stature. It radiates warmth onto your skin and immediately you’re frozen. “what…are you willing to do?” he repeats,  his voice dropping to a whisper. 

It’s evident now that Jungkook was asking for something else entirely. Your skin litters with goosebumps when Jungkook’s thumb begins to slowly trace the outline of your lips.

“Jungkook…”

You aren’t aware your legs are shaking until you try to take a step back just to realize you’re already as far against the counter as you can be.

“Y/N.”

Your breathing hitches as Jungkook comes closer. “I can go. Just tell me.”

You blink a few times. You were in a tough position. If you told Jungkook to go, you might as well go packing. If you told him to stay…

That meant your dignity and self–respect would be gone.

“Tell me to go, Y/N.” Jungkook repeats. You can smell his cologne - an earthy scent mixed with citrus. “And I’ll go.” His thumb stops tracing your lips. “You’ll have 12 hours to leave.”

Your heart begins to beat at a rapid pace and slowly, your eyes widen. This was an ultimatum, you think. It was either do what he obviously wants you to do or leave.

It was unfortunate, you think, that this is what your life has come to. You think about your mother and her words. “When you’re down on your luck, you’d think about my words I’m telling you now.” Don’t go, she had said. Maybe you should have listened to her instead of chasing a fantasy of the big city. 

A shaky hand reaches up to lay upon Jungkook’s. He curled an eyebrow at your actions.

“You…offer this deal to everyone that cannot pay?” you cannot help but ask, pondering if you’re another woman on his long list of those who cannot pay their rent. 

“No.” Jungkook responds and that causes an even sharper pain to your heart. So you were the only one who couldn’t afford shit here. 

Great.

“I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do.” Jungkook states. Your hand is still above his but neither of you go to move. “My father isn’t a lenient man. I have to tell him something about the rent.”

You suppose you couldn’t be upset with Jungkook, right? He was a man and here was an opportunity presenting itself. He wasn’t forcing you into anything, just a suggestion without coming out and saying it. 

You exhale softly. It could be worse, right? Jungkook was young, attractive and fit. He was interested in something you had, hungry eyes roaming the bit of exposed skin you couldn’t fully shield behind a robe. 

“This place…” Jungkook begins. “...isn’t updated. Or worth staying in.” his eyes glances towards your sink, the faucet closed yet leaking a few droplets of water. “We have premium apartments available.”

“I cannot afford premium.” you scoff, lightly squeezing Jungkook’s hand. You have gotten a glance at the new renovations they’ve made on the top floors of your building. But your words rang true. The price was double what you were paying - or not paying - now.

Jungkook's eyes tell you what he doesn’t say, his previous words flowing through your mind. He was asking you yet again - what were you willing to do for a premium apartment?

You swallow, glancing a way for a moment. It was 3 A.M and everyone had to be asleep after Jungkook’s excessive banging. Maybe they wouldn’t even know it was him who was here now, right?

Why did you even care what others you never spoke to thought? They weren’t paying your rent.

Your hand squeezes around Jungkook’s and you remove it from your cheek. He doesn’t move and awaits your command. 

You’ve made your decision and there wasn’t any chance of going back now.

You lace your fingers with Jungkook’s and tug him towards you, your head lifting a bit so you could capture his lips with your own. Jungkook is only a bit shocked by your sudden actions, but he doesn’t show it. He deepens the kiss hungrily, a short groan trapped in his throat.

“How,” you say against his lips as Jungkook’s free hand places itself onto your waist. “long will this deal last?”

“As long as you need.” Jungkook responds quickly. Truthfully, it goes without saying, however long you and he keep doing this.

You’ve decided. There wasn’t any going back. Maybe this way, you could find the job you needed to afford living here and you could end whatever deal this was.

Your hand tugs onto Jungkooks, fingers still entangled, as you and he stroll down the hallway to your bedroom. It’s the most furnished out of your apartment as you spend the majority of your time here. Your lights are motion sensored and they’re dim upon entering. Your bed, unfinished, sits in the middle of the room while a large mirror is directly above it. Your t.v. is mounted across from your bed and it has since turned off on its own hours ago when you had fallen asleep. 

Jungkook notices the paintings on your walls, all done by you. He was an observant man, witnessing the paintbrushes inside your sink that’s being soaked in water and soap. You were an artist that was possibly new to the big city and currently struggling. A shame as the art he witnesses is amazing to him.

You let go of Jungkook’s hand and the action brings his attention back to you. Even in the dim light of your bedroom, he can see just how sweet and shy you were. Your fingers play with your robe until it’s sliding off of you slowly. You’re sporting a tank top and cotton panties; truly dressed for bed. But the sight excites him, nonetheless.

“You’re very cute.”

The compliment makes your body feel warm and you have the sudden feeling to cover yourself. You glance away. “Cute?” you murmur under your breath. 

“Yes.” Jungkook lets out a chuckle, stepping forward so he can place both hands onto your waist. Immediately, your eyes dart back to his and you’re stiff once more. “Are you an artist?”

An artist?

You place your hands onto Jungkook’s chest as he pushes you closer to him. He was radiating warmth that was unimaginable - but maybe you were far too flushed and embarrassed. 

“If you can call me that.” you scoff, glancing at your walls. “I do paint sometimes. I can’t imagine anyone actually buying them.”

“I would.” Jungkook’s breath flickers against your ear lobe. You swallow when you feel something warm and wet trace it. Your heart begins to pump faster. “What would you allow me to do?”

You squeeze your eyes shut at Jungkook’s words. It causes something in you to shift. “W-What do you want to do?”

“Cum on my tongue.” Jungkook responds, dirty words shooting straight to your core. “But…if you’re not comfortable with that…”

You don’t want to answer too quickly and show just how desperate you are, but the words Jungkook speaks to you causes your stomach to churn with anticipation. “I…I’d like that.”

Jungkook knew you would.

It happens entirely too fast. You won’t say too fast for your liking - Jungkook was the perfect man for the job. Red flags didn’t raise in your head like they should’ve when he pounded his fist onto your door at 3 A.M simply because he was someone you found attractive. When people think of monsters or those who would do harm, they think of hideous creatures, not model-like men like Jungkook.

Jungkook’s hands push you onto your bed and in an instant, his lips are on your neck. He peppers kisses on your neck, his hands roaming your body entirely. He grips and tugs at your thighs, your smooth skin causing a tingling feeling in the palm of his hand.

A moist and warmth sensation trails past from your neck to your collarbone, wasting no time in grazing sharp teeth against your delicate skin. You let out a short huff at the assertiveness Jungkook gives.

“You smell good.” Jungkook’s lips tickle your skin as he speaks. “Like…like tangerines and champagne.” Jungkook inhales your scent and it causes shivers to erupt throughout his body. “I always knew you would.”

The last sentence is one you didn’t hear.

Hands go beneath your tank top and begin to lift it upwards. Your back arches a bit once you feet Jungkook’s squeeze your flesh once more. You allow the tanktop to be pulled over your head this time, exposing yourself fully to the man.

“So pretty.” Jungkook murmurs, the same hands going to grip your breasts in his palms. He grunts, dark eyes becoming clouded with lust.

You release a soft squeeze when Jungkook twists your nipples between your index and middle finger, his eyes flickering up to see your reaction. “You like that?” he asks, though he knows you do. You’re biting your lips to suppress a moan. 

Jungkook decides he wants to hear those pretty moans he knows you have. He leans down to flicker his tongue against your hardened nipple, eyes looking up at your scrunched face. The tip of his tongue teasingly rounds around your nipple with his free hand twists and tugs at the other one.

Jungkook had wrapped both of your legs around his waist so you could feel just how hard his cock was for you. You couldn’t watch him while he does this. It was bad enough you were doing this with him. He was far too handsome for you to watch and now immediately crumble.

“Jungkook….” your own voice stutters into a short moan. 

“Hm?” Jungkook’s suckling onto your breast now, fully engrossed in them. They were so perky in his mouth that he cannot help but want to stay here forever. He sucks roughly and lets your nipple go with a quick pop. He then turns towards the other one and licks his lips. “Your tits are perfect.” he grumbles, bringing the nipple into his mouth so he can suck on this one until it was swollen and red like the other one.

You are relaxed now, your arms wrapping around the man and entangling your fingers into his dark, soft hair. You don’t want him to stop - the pleasure consuming you. You’re trembling in pleasure, Jungkook’s clothed cock rubbing firmling against your own clothed clit. The friction is unbearable and you want to feel him against you - all of him.

Jungkook thinks your tits are indeed perfect. Perfect enough for him to fuck his cock between them, so hard and rough that he cums all over them. He imagines the way his cum would cover your breast and nipples entirely and even then would he not wish to stop suckling on such perfect nipples.

Jungkook releases the bud with another pop, saliva coating your nipple entirely. He’s panting, lustful eyes even darker. “I wanna taste you.” Jungkook demands, one hand going towards your cotton panties and he tugs at it. “I know you’re wet, Y/N. You’ve been rubbing your pussy against my cock this entire time.”

You moan. Jungkook was the dominant type and he didn't wait for you to answer. He’s already tugging off your panties with one finger and throws it aside without a care. You were suddenly growing self- conscious. You don’t particularly think vagina’s are appealing but then again, you also weren’t a man. Especially not a starved one like Jungkook was now. 

“You have a pretty pussy.”

Starved indeed, you think. Your cheeks warm at his words. You glanced down at Jungkook between your legs, his doe-like eyes staring unblinking at you.

“I’m going to have you cumming all over me.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait any longer. His head dives between your legs, his tongue flat against your clit. Your back arches on impact and your thighs go to close, but you’re unable to. Jungkook’s already made his mark between your thighs and both of his hands are forcing them open.

Jungkook’s tongue laps between your folds, his head bobbing from side to side. He doesn’t come up for air once, nor does his tongue halt its aggressive assault onto your clit. The action itself is weird to you. You couldn’t even say you barely knew Jungkook, because that meant you knew him more than you actually did. You only ever saw the man in passing and yet, here he was. His lips between your legs, ravishing you as if it’s something he’d wanted for the longest.

And to Jungkook, it was - unbeknownst to you. His mouth was watering at the sight of you earlier in just a robe, little clothing underneath it. His eyes lingered on what skin you did show while you offered him the strawberry milk.

Your fingers find themselves in Jungkook’s hair and your throat lets out a struggle whine. Your stomach churns and your hips slowly begin to grind against his tongue, an action he finds entirely hot. His fingernails dig into the sensitive skin of your thigh as he makes no attempts to halt the act of pleasure. 

Jungkook leans back just a bit, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. “You acted like you’ve never gotten eaten out before.” Jungkook says, the sound of his voice causing your eyes to blink open and look down at him.

Big mistake. Jungkook was already looking your way and when your eyes met his, you whined with a shake of your head.

“Not like this.” you sigh, your fingers relaxing the grip you had on his hair. It would be a shame if his hair thinned because of you.

Jungkook only chuckles, a sense of pride flowing through him. His tongue lays flat against your clit and he flickers it between your folds with such pressure that your fingers go back to gripping his hair. 

Jungkook was going to fuck you. No doubt about it. He had to know just how tight you were first - and he knew that you were. His right hand loosens and he goes to lean away from your throbbing clit. He lifts himself to face you. “I want you to cum all over me.”

Fuck.

Jungkook, without warning, forces his right hand towards you. He places two of his fingers right inside your mouth. You’re astonished by the sudden action, gasping when twirls them inside your mouth to coat his fingers with saliva.

“Good girl.” Jungkook winks your way, the pet name causing your walls to clench around nothing. You groaned.

Jungkook removes his fingers from inside your mouth and wastes no time in laying a hand onto your clit. His thumb twirls your clit slowly to test the waters, eyes flickering towards you. “Have you ever squirted?”

“You’re going to make me work for the apartment?” you murmur, not intending to say it aloud. But when you do, Jungkook snorts.

“It’s already yours.” Jungkook says, his fingers inching towards your hole. Tight as he imagined, not accustomed to him yet. That would be something he’d get you out of. “I think you’d look cute squirting all us.”

“Shut up.” you’re hot with humiliation and your legs shake a bit as Jungkook’s fingers go deeper and deeper in you. Your head lays back against your sheets and you huff.

Jungkook licks his lips, your juices hitting his taste buds once more. He thrusts his fingers in you until long fingers cannot go any deeper. The noises you make causes him to continue, thrusting them in and out. Each thrust is faster and a bit rougher than the last.

“Aaahh, you’re so wet.” Jungkook snickers. Your pussy is taking him so well and he cannot wait to fuck into you like he’s wanted. “I should’ve come to you sooner.” he says. “Look at how well your pussy is taking my fingers.”

You shouldn’t have listened to Jungkook. The sight is entirely too hot, his fingers dipping in and out of you, wetter and wetter after each thrust. You sink your teeth onto your bottom lip and suppress a groan.

“I-It feels good.” you stutter with a shake of your head. 

“Yeah? How good?” Jungkook responds.

“So good.” you squeeze around his fingers, eyes daring to close. Your hand reaches out and you touch his shirt to keep him close. “So so good.”

Your hand involuntarily brings Jungkook closer to you until his face is inches from yours. Your forehead places against his and you sigh out a moan.

“You look so cute when you’re fucked out, baby.” Jungkook comments and presses his lips against yours. You taste yourself and the experience has you moaning into the kiss, but deepening it. You were going to wrinkle his shirt, but you’re positive he doesn’t mind in the slightest. “Let’s see how many fingers you can handle.”’

Jungkook adds a third finger, his biceps flexing as he pounds them inside of you. You’re leaking into his palm and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The kissing grows intense, your tongue fighting along his. It’s entirely filthy - you doing this with a man you barely know. Yet, you cannot bring yourself to care now. When it was all said and done you would regret your decision to whore yourself out for a place to stay.

Jungkook breaks the kiss first, his tongue trailing away from yours and instead his teeth biting onto your bottom lip, tugging it a bit. Your pussy continues to clench around his fingers, your thighs shaking and stomach churning. The familiar feeling is near - one that you typically feel upon pleasuring yourself.

“It’s okay, baby, let go.” Jungkook’s breath hits against your jaw. His lips are on your skin once more, littering your jaw and chin with possessive kisses that lingers. “Cum all over me like I know you can.”

Jungkook’s free hand roams the curve of your body encouragingly, his right plunging in and out of you. Your head hangs back and without a second thought, a squeal lets out from your throat - one that would be embarrassing if your vision wasn’t blurred with lust.

“Shit, shit, shit.” you can feel it coming - so does Jungkook. He hovers above you, eyes unblinking as you begin to cum. You were so pretty, he thinks. Pretty and adorable, innocent and to yourself. As many times as he’s watched you through the cameras go in and out of your apartment, never anyone with you. You were the perfect person, he thinks. Someone for him and just him.

Jungkook gives a final thrust just as you cum, your back arching. He doesn’t remove his fingers, enjoying the way the creamy white arousal coats his palm and he lets out a satisfied hum. He cannot wait to fuck you. Not now, as much as he would like that. But soon. “You’re exhausted.” he murmurs after a few moments. Slowly, he begins to remove his fingers from inside of you. “Get some rest.”

“Huh?” you say, chest rising and falling. “You aren’t…we aren’t-”

“I’m going to fuck you.” Jungkook says, words crude. “No doubt. Just not yet. You’re tired.” he says. “I woke you up late. Don’t ignore my calls tomorrow.”

You were tired, a sleepy sight leaving you. Your body lays limp onto your bed and even nodding to Jungkook to show him that you understood was far too exhausting to you. “Okay…” you say. “...thank you.”

Jungkook is silent.

“For…” you swallow. The conversation after the hookup is always the hardest - and most embarrassing. “...you know.”

It’s humiliating to say ‘for letting me fuck you for a place to stay’ but you’re positive he understands. 

Jungkook grins. “No problem.” he responds. “I’ll be by tomorrow, Y/N. I have the perfect apartment for you.” One where he could always keep a good eye on you.

[tibby-art]

hitman au save me .. its been seven years ..

haven’t been able to draw/write much of this au lately but i want to write a few little scene snippets i have stored my brain :’D ill include them under cut

=+=

“This better be something good,” Scar muttered to Cub as they stepped out of the elevator. The hitman, while bound to his contract, considered ‘boring’ missions to be a waste of his time.

“I hope so,” Cub hummed. “Hope so.”

The ConVex swung open the doors to the NHO conference room, not bothering to check if their bosses were actually ready for their meeting.

“Holy mother of—! Knock next time, will you?” A man setting files down on the conference table jumped visibly as the doors slammed open.

“The Vex require a dramatic entrance, Beef,” Scar said casually. Cub snickered.

“Sure, whatever.” Beef furrowed his brow, used to this behavior. He didn’t have time for this. “Okay. Doc was supposed to do this briefing, but he’s busy with his machines I guess, because of course he is, so.” He huffed, composing himself. “Your new top-secret project. This one’s a doozy. Have a look.”

Beef slid the folder across the table. The hitmen flipped it open, absorbing its contents with hungry eyes.

What caught their eyes immediately were the photos. The person of interest looked nothing like a powerful crime boss or a dangerous anomaly. A young adult with glasses, dark eyes and short, sandy brown hair stared back at them.

“Who’s this?” Scar raised an eyebrow. Is the NHO asking them to assassinate some normal-looking university student?

“That is Grian,” Beef explained, both hands planted firmly on the table. “Grian has been with us at the NHO for months.”

“I’ve never seen him before,” Scar remarked.

“Grian’s case is top-secret. He’s been staying in high-security, private quarters… as well as our research laboratories.”

“I thought you guys seemed super suspicious lately! I knew they were hiding something from us, Cub,” Scar nudged his partner with a grin. Cub did not budge as his sharp eyes combed through the documents. He hadn’t heard a single word spoken to him.

“Cub? What’s the deal?” Scar asked. He preferred to let Cub read their mission files and summarize it for him, anyways. Dyslexia and top-secret government files were not a great mix. Oh, what would he do without Cub?

“Watchers?” Cub finally spoke, looking up at Beef with a quizzical frown. The other man nodded slowly. “You’re kidding.”

“After months of testing and analysis, we can confirm that this individual is the only currently documented case of a mortal possessing Watcher abilities,” Beef nodded slowly.

Scar had heard whispers of the Watchers only a handful of times. As a vex, he knew plenty about the realm of magic, the divine, the fae, you name it! But Watchers were said to be ancient entities, perhaps as old as time itself. So old that they were widely considered to be a myth.

“So this is not a hit,” Scar said after a moment.

“This is not a hit, Scar, good lord, do not kill this person,” Beef put both hands on his forehead and let them slowly drag down his face.

“Mortal, you say?” Cub raised an eyebrow.

“Yep,” Beef said. “She was a completely normal citizen until he got these abilities in some freak accident. Lucky for everyone involved, the NHO was able to take control of the situation before anything… dangerous happened.”

“So,” Scar narrowed his eyes slightly, “If this isn’t a hit, then what do you want from us?”

Beef sighed. “After months of testing to determine Grian’s situation, the NHO has decided that he is too important to return to life as a normal citizen at this time. Instead, we’d like to utilize his abilities in our goals to maintain order in Hermit City, and we need someone to train her how to be a special agent in the field.”

“You want the ConVex to train a Watcher how to be a hitman,” Cub said with a slight smirk at just how insane that sounded.

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Scar put both hands on his hips. “Well, that’s not what I was expecting.”

“I suppose we could give it a shot,” Cub said. Although the ConVex were bound by a fae contract to work for the NHO, the vex took every opportunity to feign control over their situation. There was no choice here. Beef had given them an order.

“Sure, sure! We are very good at our jobs, after all,” Scar grinned. Whatever happened, good or bad, would at least be entertaining, surely.

“You’ll come back here to meet her tomorrow morning,” Beef instructed. “Hand me that file back and be here by 9, will you?”

“Sure thing,” Cub replied coolly, sliding the file back to the man. Scar couldn’t help but grin wider when he noticed Cub’s hand casually in his pants pocket, some folded white paper barely visible in his grip.

“Don’t be late. I’m serious this time,” Beef called out as the hitmen turned and exited the conference room.

=+=

The conference room was tense that morning. Towards the end of the table sat the NHO - Beef, Doc, Etho, and Bdubs. On one side sat Cub and Scar. Across from them, Grian sat alone.

“So, how about introductions?” Doc clapped his hands together. “Er… Cub and Scar, this is Grian. Grian, this is Cub and Scar. You guys already know the deal. Grian is going to come with you on missions from now on.”

The ConVex hadn’t taken their eyes off of Grian since they entered the room, unable to resist their curiosity. They had both read the files, but still found it hard to believe the person before them was a Watcher. Grian sat rigid in his chair, fiddling with his hands, looking tense and exhausted. She eyed the vex curiously as well.

“Well hello there,” Scar greeted. “I’m Scar, and this is Cub.”

“Hey, hey,” Cub said quietly.

“Hello,” The corner of Grian’s mouth twitched in a possible attempt at a smile.

The three continued to stare at each other until Bdubs cleared his throat.

“Wonderful introduction. Now that we’ve broken the ice, let’s talk about your next mission.” The man picked up a small remote, and the large screen on the wall behind them illuminated.

“Before we send our agents out into the field, we meet like this to discuss the details and ensure that the mission is clearly understood,” Doc explained to Grian, throwing a disapproving glare in the ConVex’s direction.

A lengthy file on some high-profile criminal appeared on the screen, as Bdubs proceeded to read off the information. Scar slumped back in his chair. These mission briefings were the worst. It was time to zone out and have Cub tell him the details later with all the fluff cut out.

At about ten minutes in, Scar yawned absentmindedly.

“Oh, are we boring you, sir?” Doc interrupted Bdubs to shoot a piercing stare at Scar.

“Oh, not at all!” Scar said cheerfully, but slumping in his chair slightly lower.

“As I was saying,” Bdubs continued loudly.

Scar glanced over at Grian. Her eyes quickly darted back to the presentation when they made eye contact. Scar looked over at Cub and found he had still not taken his eyes off of Grian. Hopefully Cub was at least somewhat paying attention, because he sure wasn’t.

Grian continued to fidget with his hands. Scar felt a pang of pity for him. The vex were used to this sort of environment, but according to the NHO, Grian had a completely normal life up until a few months ago. Now suddenly, he gains these terrifying powers and spends months in a top-secret lab having tests run on her all day. Who wouldn’t be overwhelmed?

Scar yawned again, this time more intentionally. He earned another death glare from Doc, but Bdubs droned on. He glanced over and saw Grian rubbing a hand on his cheek to help hide a grin.

The art of annoying your boss was a delicate one. Timing is everything. Let enough time pass until they’ve forgotten, or they think you’ve stopped, to continue the game. Scar lets about ten minutes pass before his next yawn, bigger this time.

“Quit it,” Beef hissed. Even Etho glanced over. Doc kept his eyes on the screen, but his jaw was clenched. Grian let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Five minutes later, Cub clears his throat rather loudly. Bdubs stutters over his words for a second, but because Cub is Cub, none of the NHO seems to be able to tell if that was a deliberate cough or not, and they decide to ignore it. Cub shows no emotion.

After an hour that felt like an eternity of Bdubs explaining every possible detail about the case, it seemed to be almost concluded. That was, until a rather loud yawn was heard throughout the conference room.

“WILL YOU LET ME FINISH, FOR GOODNESS SAKE?!” Bdubs finally erupted, whipping around in his chair to face Cub and Scar.

The hitmen stared back blankly. They glanced over across the table, and Bdubs followed their gaze, where Grian sat with both arms over her head in a large stretch.

“Sorry,” Grian said simply when all eyes were on him, lowering his arms. “Just had to stretch a bit.” He stared back at Bdubs innocently.

The NHO stood there, confused. Bdubs was at a loss for words, unable to get a read on the new recruit. He sighed and turned back to the screen. “Well, regardless, I think we’ve about summed things up,” he grumbled.

Scar made eye contact with Grian once again. The two cracked a smile at one another for a second, too quick for the NHO to notice.

Scar had a feeling that him, Cub and Grian were going to get along just fine.

=+=

[thelostconsultant]

The leak

pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

summary: Someone recorded you and your boyfriend having sex, and now parts of the recording are being released, letting the world know that you're seeing each other.

warning: mentions of sexual activities, bdsm-ish elements, dom!Oscar, dark!Oscar, aaaaaand that's it. I think. So MDNI.

note: It started out as something kinky, then I figured out who recorded and leaked the whole thing. This was meant to be a short drabble, something to take my mind off the other fic I'm working on...

This had to be a nightmare. 

Your phone began to buzz late in the afternoon, signaling message after message, but you didn't really care about it until your manager called and told you to check social media sites. And there they were, snippets and screenshots from a sex tape, showing you and your boyfriend in what seemed to be his hotel room two days ago.

Whoever recorded and shared this made sure to pick the spiciest parts. The most “popular” video was the moment he put the beige collar on you, then grabbed the golden chain to pull you into a hungry kiss. His orders could be heard crystal clear, and his dominant personality which was in such stark contrast with his usual behavior was now out in the open. 

Your first instinct was to send a message to your chronically online boyfriend, but then you realized this was an emergency and calling him was the best approach now. It didn’t take him long to answer, and his voice was so calm you thought he didn’t know anything. “Hey, baby, what is it? I’ve been thinking about you, are you–”

“Oscar, you haven’t checked social media sites lately, have you?” you asked, your voice thin from the anxiety that had taken over the moment you saw the first snippet. 

There was a short pause, then he went, “The videos? Yeah, that might be a problem.”

“Might be a problem? It’s already a problem!” you corrected him. “People know we’re together, and what’s worse, they know what we do in bed. We kept everything under wraps for a reason.”

Little did you know that Oscar was everything but surprised by this turn of events. Why would he be surprised when it was him who hid that camera in his hotel room, and it was also him who sent it out to someone he knew would spread it like wildfire. He remained an anonymous source, of course, but he knew it was all his work. And he was proud of it. 

He had been begging you to make your relationship official, but you were too worried about what your fans would say. So he decided to take matters into his own hands, showing the world what a good little girl you were for him. He was proud of you, he wanted to show you off, and he wanted you to come to as many races as you could. Just to be his lucky charm, and maybe the solution to releasing some stress if a session was frustrating. 

“Why don’t you come over until people move on from this? We can nestle in my apartment eating ice cream, watching movies… Come on, it’s gonna be fun,” he tried, his voice sickeningly sweet. 

You took a deep breath that you soon let out slowly, giving yourself time to think. “All right, my manager told me to stay under the radar anyway.”

“Great. See you soon then.”

He won. You come over, stay for a few days, and he’ll do his damn best to convince you to stay for good. You would have fun on your own. He would train you to be the kind of obedient little thing he always wanted you to be. Why would you need to make decisions when he can choose for you? You’d realize this was for the best, he just had to be smart and patient.

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Yuu has the audacity to ask a question. It leads to some interesting moments  

Jade Leech, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit, Floyd Leech

Jade Leech 

“Jade, can I ask you a question?” It’s not often that the library is so packed that you end up sharing a table but if it had to be with anybody, at least it was Jade.  

Jade wasn’t naturally academically smart. He took a lot of notes and studied in order to come out in the middle. There were folks that thought he was simply keeping his head down, but Yuu found out by accident. She knew Jade was incredibly street smart and people savvy though, no matter what grades he got. It worked in her favor though, as Jade let them copy notes from last year in exchange for not sharing the information anywhere. Not that Yuu planned too, but they weren’t going to pass up such an opportunity either.  

“Of course, I will assist in anyway I can.”  

“Do you have any books that you would recommend for scavenging for local flora and fauna in the woods back at Ramshackle? I’ve tried searching through the library but it’s a bit too vague for what I need.”

If Yuu had blinked, they would have missed the brief surprise and delight on his face.  

“Well,” he sets his pen down, “As the president of the Mountain Lovers club, I’m sure we could discuss that during our meetings. If only you were a member.” he sighed  

“If only Crowley would allow me to join any clubs.” Yuu muttered, “I know it's a requirement for first and second years to be involved in at least one, but he says I have far more to offer as his unofficial assistant. Unpaid is more accurate but what do I know.”  

Jade smiles, the one that matches his brothers. Wide and full of teeth.  

“Leave Crowley to me, dear Prefect. You just meet me in the morning behind Ramshackle. Bring a basket and your camera, oh, and dress warm. It'll be cold for you.”  

He writes some extra instructions on a slip of paper and collects his things, turning left at the library doors. Damn, that was straight to the headmasters’ office too. Jade really doesn't play around when it comes to the Mountain Lover's club.

While Yuu isn’t able to attend every meeting, the Mountain Lover’s club apparently includes trips to other countries, recipes cooked in the Ramshackle kitchen as well as appreciating cultures and crafts made by various peoples which slowly starts to decorate the rickety dorm into something interesting and unique. Jade becomes a different person as a traveler and seems to find joy in just exploring and discovering all the different ways that people create and eat and live.  

After he graduates, Yuu gifts him the book that the two of them created, with pictures and descriptions of all the Night Raven College fauna and flora, their uses, if they are edible, and different recipe and potion ingredients, the regions it comes from, and even snippets of stories and memories they share.  

Jade is not an emotional man, but when he asks you to come with him on his next expedition, his smile is full of joy.  

Rook Hunt

“Rook, can I ask you a question?”  

Rook looks down from his spot in the tree, a camera perched in his hands. “Amazing eyesight, Mon Trickster! I did not anticipate being found. Ask away, but be quick, less Roi de Lion suspects me.”  

“Are there any plays or poetry books that would be good for a beginner? I read a lot back home but I know there is cultural and historical context I'm going to be missing-” 

“I am so happy!” he practically drops the tree, taking both of her hands to kiss the knuckles, “I would be happy to help you. Come, come!”  

Oh, they are going to the library now. Right now. Ok, Yuu should have expected that.  

Rook is always excitable, but he’s mindful as well. Picking out smaller volumes at first, and adding some reference materials, putting a few back as he asks questions about what she has already read or what she typically enjoys. He also writes out a list for audio books and radio performances. Thank the Seven that Crowley finally got them a phone and they could excuse the data usage for school.  

“I have the films I would be willing to lend, but I would ask you be incredibly careful.”  

“Oh, I don’t have a TV or any type of DVD player at Ramshackle. We try and keep the places as authentic as possible. It helps when the ghosts come to visit on Hallow’s eve.” They don’t have wifi either and their electricity runs off a backup generator, but Yuu doesn’t mention that. They are distinctly aware of how rundown Ramshackle is, but they try not to advertise how badly.  

“What dedication you have to your dorm and the history of Night Raven College. We may do so in Pomefiore!”  

And that’s how they end up having movie night basically every Wednesday night, sometimes with other Pomefiore members or even Vil himself refreshing on the classics. Rook would sit close by, quietly explaining certain contexts and even joining Yuu on reading through some of the poetry books. His passion comes out more with his knowledge than his speech in those moments, and it’s...nice. Normally Rook is the most reserved person she knows. He’s family is still a mystery, but she’s learned more about his beliefs and insights into how he perceives life in general. 

“This is how I met Roi de Poison, you know. He enchanted me at first sight, but his mind...he understood my passion for theater, music and beauty. He respected me, once I proved that I loved him for more than his looks and roles.”  

Crazy fan he might have been in the past, it was definitely more of an equal relationship once you saw past the surface level. Yuu eventually started picking a few habits and fashion tips, slowly becoming a bit more refined. Elegant even, she might say.  

When she hesitantly asks for help with other things, it's easier each time. Help with skincare routines, or experimenting with make-up, what colors work best and how silhouettes come across. It’s never been this fun to experiment with her style. It helps that Rook, while thinking certain things definitely work, will be gentle in the things that aren’t.  

“They do not enhance your beauty,” he says, sounding like Vil, “And you are already magnifique.”  

He is the first person that she shares her book of stories with, the precognitions that she has  

“Do you think fairy tales are fiction?” He asks her, quietly skimming over the passages of Snow White. The Fairest Queen is barely mentioned, but without her, there is no story.  

“Living here feels like a fairy tale, but if it is, you’ve made it a wonderful dream.”  

Rook looks at her, a surprised chuckle slipping out. Before he can hide it, his nose crinkles, a smile wide enough to show his gums, and Yuu thinks it enhances all the best of him.  

Vil Schoenheit 

“Vil, may I ask you a question?” 

“At least somebody paid attention when I went over manners. You may.” Vil says, as he adds in some sort of lilac powder. Normally, they wouldn’t have any classes together, but with Yuu acting as an ‘assistant’ towards the teachers to make extra cash, they got to see the second and third years more than even the other first years in their dorms.  

“How do you make time for it all? Between the acting jobs, getting good grades in school, indulging in potionology and homebrew makeup in your limited free time, it seems like you get so much done with just as much time as the rest of us.”  

“Thank you for noticing.” Vil says, looking up from his potion work. “And yes, I do keep a very organized schedule. Every minute is planned and my down time is spent decompressing efficiently.”  

“Is there any articles or techniques you would recommend? Or a template you used?” 

“You could just ask me for help, you know.” he retorts, huffing a bit.  

“I know I could, but I also want to be respectful of what you have on your plate.”  

“Ah, potato...I have plenty of time, especially in this season. I don’t schedule anything this close to finals. Come sit with me this evening for dinner and we will talk goals and progress markers. There is more to this mentally than most people think.”  

Vil is a bit less than impressed when he sees just how much Yuu accomplishes for Night Raven College with no credit and makes a note to talk to the teachers and Crowley about getting her properly compensated or at least. But overall, it goes well, making time for exercise, hobbies, studies and even some time with him. Telling her about the techniques he used and actually practicing them were two different things, and some things are just easier to show rather than tell.  

“Alright, let’s start here.”  

Mindfulness, ironically for somebody outside Scarabina, is important to Vil. Sinking fully into the experience of his daily life, looking at all the colors, enjoying his foods with no screens, or just enjoying the quiet while he removes makeup. His decompress is like a valve that he releases in minutes throughout the day, not hours at the end of it.

“This takes practice. Don’t discourage yourself if you don’t get it every time, eventually it will come more naturally.”  

And it does. Over the months, Yuu feels more productive than ever, even finding time to wonder about her own style. It is a bit embarrassing when Vil enters Ramshackle to use the Guest Room to study and sees her hastily trying to wash off eyeshadow. 

“Oh, spudling, not your color. No, no, here.” He sits, and teaches, a bit harshly at times, but he wouldn’t be Vil if he wasn’t direct. Much like Riddle, he fully believes that people can reach his level, and sees no reason why they shouldn’t. And while Yuu will never be Vil pretty, she certainly feels more beautiful and confident now than she ever has before.  

It isn’t until Vil is reviewing one of his performances that Yuu makes a comment, some offhand remark about the script not quite matching the vernacular expected for the period, that he invites her to sit and review more.  

Yuu doesn’t think it’s anything spectular, it’s kind of obvious, but apparently it wasn’t to the rest of the audience.  

Vil sits at thier usual tea table in the Night Raven Gardens, and slides a ticket over to her.  

“If you have time. I know you recently picked up a few photography jobs in town that would be a shame to miss. Rapport with clients is key, you know.”  

It’s the red-carpet event to a 5th year anniversary movie he did as a child. All glitz and glam, showing just how much they have grown as actors and people since their debuts. It’s a milestone even for Vil, the first and only role where he was played a supporting role that wasn’t a villain or antagonist.  

“What colors are you wearing? I might have something that compliments.” Yuu asks, already going through their mind for anything suitable in Ramshackle.  

“Well,” Vil preens, opening his laptop. “We will just have to buy something together to ensure we match, won’t we? When are you free?” 

It’s so small Yuu almost misses it, but hidden underneath his painted blush is a heated blush, quiet and pink and delighted.  

Floyd Leech

“Floyd, can I ask you a question?”   

Floyd doesn’t even bother looking up from his spot at the table, “Better not be a boring question Shrimpy, or I’ll squeeze ya~” 

“Where do you go to get your shoes repaired?”  

His head snaps up just a bit, left eye brighter than usual.  

“Ace had mentioned that your sole had torn during practice,” Yuu continues, feeling like they have to explain themselves with how intensely he was staring, “But the next day it had been stitched back on like new. There are some fantastic leather boots from the old NRC uniforms that I'd love to use, but I’m trying to find somebody who won’t butcher them or tell me they aren’t repairable just cause there old or out of style, you know?”  

Floyd nods, eyes still searching before ultimately just shrugging his shoulders. “Hmmm...at least it wasn’t boring. Meet at Monstro Lounge at 6 lil’ Shrimpy, bring the shoes!”  

He walks away before Yuu can even say that they have to meet with somebody else, but that really isn’t a possibility when a Leech brother has demanded your attention. Looks like you’ll have to reschedule with Deuce.  

The Monstro Lounge is fairly steady, though Yuu has never seen it slow. Always some sort of deal or exclusive that sets these rich bastards running through the doors, even if it’s just so they don’t have to deal with the lines in the cafeteria or cook their own food.  

Jade waves you in, taking the box from your hands in a gentlemanly manner, and leading you to the side. Floyd is quick to intercept, mumbling a thank you before his long strides leave you almost jogging.  

“Alright, let’s see what we are working with.”  

The dorm is clearly shared between him and Jade. Crisp white walls, a seashell and sea motif on the desk and headboard and some floating shelves that look vaguely like drift wood, exactly what she expected from Octanvinelle. But that’s about all the two sides have in common. Jade’s is organized, of course, but notable is the terrariums on the shelves and a stack of geology books tucked into the corner, along with photos of places he may have been or plans to go.

Floyd’s half is a mess, yes, but it’s organized chaos, like looking at Ace and Deuce’s dorm. High protein snacks are tucked on the shelves, completed 3D puzzles, and...fashion magazines? Huh, he did say that merpeople didn’t really have a reason to wear clothes so land peoples being so obsessed with it would be interesting, especially in different regions or cultures. And the trends are constantly changing. It actually started fitting, the more Yuu thought about it.  

Floyd set the box on the desk, picking up the shoes and bending them this way and that, pressing on the heel or pinches the toe.  

“You’ve taken good care of them,” He says, “The stitches are loose and the nails need to be hammered back in, but the leather is clean and strong. I’d get some new leather laces though, the wax on these has completely frayed from misuse. How old are these?”  

“They're from back when Ezra and the others went to school, but they don’t have a great concept of time.” Floyd raises an eyebrow. “Oh, the ghosts at Ramshackle.”  

“Huh, no wonder it felt like the place was trying to kick us out.” Floyd walks over to the walk-in closet and Yuu has to double take. She would have mistaken the closet for Jade’s! On the left, the clothes are hung neatly on the rack except for the everyday items like the basketball or school uniform which have their own spots hung neatly on the door itself. Below that are clear boxes that seem to hold all sort of tools. Are these hobbies that Floyd has picked up and gotten bored with?

But the right side of the walk in closet is just racks and racks of shoes. Wing tip dress, loafers, even a few kitten heels and red backed stiletos. All perfectly shined and displayed.  

“Floyd, you repair your own shoes?” Yuu taking the box he hands her.

“When you are as tall as me and Jade, you end up having to customize and fix a lot of your own clothes, unless you wanna pay some stupid prices, and standing there while they pin and stuff is boring. I’d rather just do it myself.” He takes out a wicked looking needle and a stand, securing it to the desk with a flick of a lever. “Which pair is your size?”  

“Oh, these.” she says, picking up a pair of loafers and ankle boots. “I can’t afford for you to do this for me Floyd. I don’t have the funds right now.” 

He just leans against the table with a laugh, “Oh, I aint doin’ it for free. Your gonna pay me by letting me keep a pair, specifically those.”

He points to the bottom of the box, a pair of thigh high riding boots from what she can tell.  

“Those are the ones in the worst shape?”  

“Oh, I won’t be able to get them to their original form, but I can lengthen the sole and toe area a bit, add a heel, and have a wicked pair of thighs high stilettos that’ll have even Betta fish jealous~” 

“With your legs, you’d look really good in a skirt.”  

They both blink.  

“Shit, sorry, my mouth ran-” Floyd laughs, something softer than usual.  

“Your damn right Shrimpy.” He smiles, “I do look damn good in a skirt. I prefer dresses though.”  

He takes a seat, motioning for her to take the other side, sets the shoe inside the stand, and starts explaining the process. It doesn’t always make sense but he’s clearly passionate about it.  

This might be a truer version of him, Yuu thinks, seeing him carefully take out a rusted nail to pull out a fresh silver one from an even smaller box. One that isn’t bored or moody, but just...getting able to do something that actually interests him.  

“Hey Floyd. Do you want to go thrifting with me and Kalim on Sunday? I think you’d have some interesting things to say about some of the finds, especially the clothes mart. They literally have a bin of vintage pieces for a dollar a piece.”  

He leans back, and does that smile again. All teeth but his eyes relax, all boyishly charming.  

“You got all the audacity in the world, don’t you?” He chuckles, “I’ll get my shift covered.”  

[pimosworld]

Stranger in my house

Pairing-Moon boys x F!reader ( Secretly Jake x f!reader) Marc Spector x f!reader/ Steven grant x f!reader

CW-18+,MDNI,Angst,Fluff,Insecurities, inaccurate depiction of DID, reader is semi aware of Jake. Protective Marc, Steven being sweet as always. Established relationship with Marc and Steven.

WK-1.6k

Summary-Snippets of a life where Jake struggles to stay in the shadows.

A/N- Dedicated to my moonknight babes. I have not forsaken you.

[Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

You notice him one day.

  A year into your relationship and Marc is fed up with Steven and yours overflowing books on the floor of the flat. “We need another bookshelf.” He grumbles at your suggestion because he would just get rid of some if he had the choice. 

  That’s how you find yourself curled up on the couch with some tea and ironically a book while you watch Marc put together the new shelf you and Steven picked out. 

  It was ornate with cherry wood accents and came with a miniature ladder to help you reach the top shelf. You didn’t think it would be too complicated but it seems as Marc stares at the pages like they are ancient hieroglyphics, you may have caused a bit more of a headache than you intended. 

  He mutters something incoherent under his breath ‘déjeme ver’. You don’t bother to ask if he needs help when the scowl on his face deepens even further into an almost unrecognizable version of your boyfriend. 

  You glance up occasionally to watch the way his back strains against the tight black t-shirt, or the way his ass looks in his jeans when he bends over. Marc and Stevens movements are so unalike and yet even now the way he stands up and straightens as he rolls his neck is so unlike Marc. 

  You stop ogling to resume your book and find yourself several chapters in when you look up to see it finished. “Oh honey, it looks so good.” 

  The look he gives you when he turns around is more of a smirk of amusement. You glance down briefly to mark your page before standing from the couch to inspect his handy work. You don’t notice the way he’s watching you as you slide your hands along the smooth wood shelves. You grab a few of your favorite books that were piled on the floor and strategically place them in some specific secret order that no one but you is privy to. 

  You turn to him and wrap your arms around his neck, waiting for him to scoop you up as he usually does. His hands hover hesitantly at your waist and then he pulls you flush against him. You almost have no room to breathe as you chuckle lightly into his neck. You swear he smells your hair before he abruptly lets you go. 

  “Hi love, do you like the bookcase?” Your sweet Steven has a slightly wild look in his eyes as waits for your response. 

  “Of course I do, we picked it out together silly.” You lean in and kiss him on the cheek and he relaxes at your touch. “If you’re listening Marc, I love it, since you disappeared on me.” 

  “Right ya…Marc. He says you're welcome.” 

  ****

  You notice one day

  You had spent all afternoon preparing a special dinner and dessert for Marc. The flat is adorned with candles and smells of fresh pasta and apple pie. 

  When Marc walks through the door you can see it written all over his face. He doesn’t say anything about you making his favorites because technically it’s not his birthday. It’s the day after. 

  You enjoy each other's company in comfortable silence as you wait for him to finish. He raises an eyebrow at you as you hand him a small box, unwrapped because then it’s not a birthday gift. 

  He opens it slowly to reveal his watch that broke months ago, the small hand ticking away right in front of his eyes. 

  You should thank her mate

  She didn’t need to do all this for my birthday 

  Well it’s technically not anymore is it? 

  He doesn’t say anything but you decide to press on with your plan. Even if it’s not exactly the reaction you were expecting at the very least he’s not protesting it. 

  “I have one more thing.” You stand from the table and head to the kitchen to retrieve the apple pie on warm in the oven. To you it’s just a dessert, a non cake related dessert that just so happened to be his favorite. Steven helped you with the vegan crust because he was not about to let Marc have all the fun. 

  You return to the table with a slice and a fork to share. He stares at it for a moment and your heart sinks a little. 

  “I know what you’re going to say…”

  He cuts you off before you can finish, he stands so suddenly it startles you. He kisses you slowly at first, savoring the way you moan into his mouth. His hand is on the back of your head and the other around your waist and it feels so different. It’s like you’re sending him off to war and this is the last kiss you’ll ever share. Your lungs burn from lack of air but you don’t want to be the first one to break. 

  He pulls away as you look up at him. His eyes are squeezed so tightly shut as he tries to catch his breath. 

  “Honey,look at me.” 

  His brow softens as he opens his eyes revealing that deep chocolate brown, with a look that could only adorn your sweet Stevens face. 

  “Thank you, love.” 

  ****

  It goes like this for a while. You noticing him…him noticing you. 

  You notice as You quirk your eyebrow at him in the kitchen when he picks out the tomato on his sandwich and drops it in the trash like it personally wronged him.  

  “I thought you liked those?” 

  He notices After a long day at work in shoes you know we’re too uncomfortable he picks up your feet and places them in his lap. He rubs them at first bordering on painful that settles into something soothing. His fingers brush the bottom of your feet and you flinch at the ticklish feeling. He tsks at you under his breath and you still your movements when you meet his unfamiliar eyes. 

  You notice When he doesn’t hear you enter the flat. He’s at the kitchen sink washing dishes, shirtless in those gray sweatpants you love. He’s humming some tune you’ve never heard as you place your things down and toe off your shoes. You didn’t mean to startle him as your cold hands met his side and he turned quickly knocking a glass off the counter. 

  “Mierda quédate ahí!” You don’t speak Spanish but you’re too stunned to move anyway. He grabs you with one arm around your waist and carries you like a duffel bag over to the couch away from the glass. 

  “Sorry love, clumsy me. I’ll get this cleaned up.” Steven doesn’t look at you as he grabs the broom from the closet. 

  ****

He notices when he slinks in through the window in the early hours. It’s still dark outside as he strips himself of his moon knight clothes, the blood only distinguishable on his hands. As he slips past you to the shower he can see your shallow breaths while you lay out flat on the bed. 

  After a while you feel the bed dip beside you as you try to calm your breathing. He wraps his arm around you as he pulls your back flush to his chest. His breath is hot on your neck and you can feel his heart beating rapidly against you. 

  “You’re a terrible faker mi amor.” Your breath hitches in your throat as he speaks the words into your ear. 

  “You have to slow down your breathing if you want to pretend to be asleep.” His voice a low growl as he places his hand on your chest. You can feel him take slow deliberate breaths as you try to match the rise and fall of his chest. ‘así’

  “This isn’t how you lay when you're asleep.” His hand leaves your body momentarily and you miss the heat of his touch. He grabs your thigh behind the knee and pushes it gently until it’s bent. His hand slowly guides you to your stomach while his other arm supports the weight of your head.‘es mejor’

  He envelopes you under the blankets and it takes all your willpower not to roll him over and straddle him. You don’t even know him. He buries his face in your neck and sniffs again inhaling your scent. You’re practically skin to skin in your satin slip dress and his bare chest and boxers. 

  “Is this okay?” His voice barely above a whisper as you nod your head. His lips ghost over your back before he kisses your shoulder. It’s those soft sleepy kisses adorning your body until the real sleep claims you both. 

  ****

  You awake to the feel of cold sheets beside you as you feel around for him. A sliver of light hits the room from the bathroom door slightly ajar. 

  “I swear to god Jake, if you fuck this up.”

Jake -he has a name

  It’s mostly Marc speaking idle threats as you listen in to a one sided conversation. Whatever his reservations may be, it's none of your business. You do know that he would never do anything intentionally to fuck this up. 

  Your boyfriend exits the bathroom still dressed only in his black boxers. “Love…we need to talk to you about something.” 

  He sits on the edge of the bed as he rubs circles on your legs under the sheets. 

  “I know.” 

  They knew…it’s why they can’t be mad when you finally talk about the stranger. You fell in love with him a long time ago. The one they tried to keep a secret. He no longer wanted to be kept in the dark. He loves you too much. This stranger in your house. 

@chichimisaki @simpforbritgents @casa-boiardi @missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @melodygatesauthor @missbeverlyhills

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Dejeme ver-Let me see

Mierda quedate ahi-Shit stay there

Asi- just like that

Es mejor- that’s better

[feukt-42]

Elden ring + Shadow of the Erdtree lore thoughts

Alright, so, first off, obviously, spoilers ahead.

I've been thoroughly enjoying and getting my ass kicked by SotE and what ive seen of the lore so i wanted to ramble about it.

I specifically wanted to talk about how Elden Ring explores power and godhood.

In the base game, godhood isnt seen as inherently bad. Marika's golden order is fucked up six ways to sunday, but the blame mainly rests on Marika's shoulders it seems. She's a genocidal homewrecking war-mongerer who threw two of her children in the sewers bc of racism, she's not a good god, but it doesnt portray the problem as her being a god, just her being a mess. The game provides several "solutions" to unfuck everything :

Ranni's ending has you completely throw the system in the trash. She says, fuck it, godhood's the problem, im out of here. She is kinda right, but the lands remain fractured and the power vacuum left behind is going to be immense. We're on the right track but could be better.

The frenzied flame ending is just pure concentrated nihilism so i think we can move past it for this one.

The bunch of other endings are fairly similar : you beat Marika/Radagon's ass and you impose yourself as Elden Lord to keep her in check and fix the issues you see as most important. This doesnt fix anything long-term, the god in power is still the exact same fucking mess but with a chaperone now i guess.

None of these endings are very satisfying, they all leave you with a sense of "it could be worse i guess" (except the frenzied flame one but you get the point). This is where Miquella comes in :

Everything we hear about Miquella sounds great. He's kind, compassionate, against racism, doesnt like violence, etc etc. Cherry on top, he's even one of the characters with a direct shot at godhood, brilliant ! Why cant we just put him in charge, he'll do much better than the absolute wreck we have right now.

And thats where the base game leaves us, Marika is a fucked up mess of a person, and the obvious solution is to put the much better Miquella in her place.

Shadow of the erdtree, on the other hands, aims to set the record straight. The problem wasnt just Marika, the problem is inherent to godhood in and of itself.

In SotE, we see the land of shadow, the realm where Marika came from and ascended to godhood, and the realm where Miquella intends to do the same. And the more we hear about who Marika was before in snippets of lore, and the more we watch Miquella tread the road to godhood, we realise something :

There is no such thing as a good god

It doesnt matter how kind and compassionate you were, what your morals were, who you loved, who you loathed, none of it matters because you cannot grasp the power to become a god without sacrificing who you were before.

In the dlc we see Miquella shed more and more of himself, his flesh, his arms, his eye, his heart, his doubts, his fears and even his love. Miquella has shorn so much of who he was that he formed an entire new person (St Trina) from it. Some of him remains, he still wishes for a kinder world, but he cant sacrifice anymore of himself for it. Now he has to start sacrificing others.

Miquella was always blessed with the ability to charm others, and he sees it as the least painful path to make others do as he wishes. And so he charms his sister, he charms Mohg, he charms Radahn, his followers, Leda, Moore, Thiollier, Freyja, the hornsent, Ansbach, and everyone he can convince to give themselves up for his dream of a kinder world, regardless of the pain they might cause or feel by being enthralled by him.

And oh boy do they feel pain. Mohg is used and discarded like a ragdoll, and his followers and dynasty slowly crumble to nothing as the last pureblood knight watches helplessly, himself entranced by the one responsible after he failed to kill him. Radahn's soul is shoved in a corpse so that he can play consort to a god that is his antithesis, depriving him of his glory and honour as lord of the battlefield. Malenia is left alone to rot after Miquella has no use or help for her, and she endlessly waits for her brother to return. Every one of Miquella's followers has to grapple with those feelings of betrayal, manipulation, and lost memories returning all at once. It is by no means painless.

And so we end up with a god that is not much better than Marika was. On his path to godhood, Miquella has caused as much pain to those along the way as his mother once did, in this very same land that still feels the scars of Marika's ascension.

The only way to gain power is to take it from everyone else, and that cannot be achieved without pain.

[betweenbreaths]

doctor's orders (WIP)

Fandom: Love and Deepspace

Characters: Zayne x Reader

Summary: Zayne is surprisingly obedient as a patient when it’s your turn to play doctor. 

Rating: E (M for this snippet though)

A/N: Posting this WIP first because I think it'll take me a while to write the full thing. :")

++++++

He’s terribly late. 

It’s almost midnight now, almost 12 hours past the time he was supposed to have you over at his place for lunch and a home movie date. He had already prepared everything perfectly, from the food, to the table setting, to the extra blankets on the couch (only because you liked to snuggle). And then you had arrived right on time, and everything was going perfectly.

That is, until his work phone rang and he received an alert that one of his patients had to undergo surgery immediately. 

You hadn’t looked fazed when he filled you in on the situation; after all, it was hardly the first time he had been whisked away from a date for unexpected work emergencies. You had told him before that you didn’t mind; saving lives came first and you’d have done the same if you were notified of wanderers in the area.

So he’d left promptly, promising to be back as soon as he could.

And now, twelve hours later, he has finally returned to the front door of his apartment, with a bouquet of flowers he’d picked up along the way as an apology. Zayne had texted you earlier to ask if you had already left, and you’d said that you would stay and wait for him, and that there was no hurry. 

He sees your shoes still neatly placed outside, and yet another pang of guilt hits him. He just hopes you’re not too upset. He’ll have to make it up to you somehow. 

As Zayne opens the door and steps in, he calls your name. 

Silence. No response. 

That… must be a bad sign. Either that, or you fell asleep somewhere. Certainly not in the living room, because there’s no trace of you other than the crumpled blankets and the remote control tossed to the corner of the couch. 

He shrugs off his coat, leaving it on one of the chairs by the dining table and peers around, wondering where you’d gone. Instinctively he heads straight towards his bedroom — you might be taking a nap there.

He knocks lightly on the closed door before opening it carefully, slowly, in case he wakes you. Then he hears you call his name. The tone in your voice isn’t one of anger or disappointment. 

In fact, it’s the opposite. You sound… mischievous, playful. Even a little naughty. 

Almost like you’d planned something completely unexpected for him, and you’d been waiting for him to come in, like a predator waiting for prey to fall into its trap. 

And when he steps in, Zayne all but forgets to breathe.

++++++

Leaving you alone in his apartment for twelve hours had left you with plenty of time to devise a surprise for your boyfriend. Your spark of inspiration came when you decided you’d do the poor man a favour and sort out his laundry for him since he can’t even afford the time to eat the lunch he’d so painstakingly prepared for that afternoon. 

And when you came across the freshly washed spare doctor’s coat in the pile of clean clothes, you were immediately drawn to it like a moth to a flame. You ran your fingers over the thick, wrinkled fabric, a smile playing on your lips when you think about how far he’s come in his career.

And when you put it on, the scent of detergent and warmth enveloping you, an idea so brilliant, so devious, popped into your head. 

After all, you’d already come over to his home already prepared with a new set of black lacy lingerie for him to tear off of you, and this coat would go perfectly with it. 

The look on Zayne’s face when he steps into his bedroom and his eyes fall on you is absolutely delightful. You see a myriad of emotions flicker in his eyes: confusion, surprise, bewilderment…

And then his gaze becomes hungry. Sinful. Heat pools in your centre as his gaze falls on your body, examining every single inch of you. You can already tell from his dilated pupils that in his mind, he’s ravaging you, kissing you senseless and tasting every drop of you, and god you can already anticipate how rough he’s going to be with you when you let him have his way. 

But first, you’re going to have some fun with this.

Zayne approaches the bed, each footstep almost echoing in your ears and mirroring your accelerating heartbeat and you prop yourself up on your elbows, clicking your tongue and shaking your head at the man. 

“You’re late for your appointment, Zayne. I’m almost off my shift now.” 

“I apologise. I was held up at work because of an emergency.” 

“I wish you would prioritise your health the way you do with your work.” 

Your lips curl into a knowing smile, and so does his, although his smile looks a little more defeated. 

“Using my words against me now?” 

“Maybe. But I don’t have time for small talk. I’m supposed to have a date with my boyfriend and he’s waiting for me at home, so let’s make this quick.” 

Zayne cocks an eyebrow but says nothing as you sit up and tap the empty spot next to you on the bed. 

“Lie down. We need to do a routine examination.” 

Surprisingly, Zayne does as he’s told without protest. You feel the bed dip with his weight when he sits down, and you swallow nervously when he stares at you up close, eyes darting down towards your lips and raking down your figure. His gaze is smouldering and you feel your cheeks warm as the corner of his lips turn up. 

“Like what you see?” you can’t resist the urge to ask. 

“It would be more appropriate to ask your boyfriend that, Doctor.” 

Right, right. 

You clear your throat, trying to get back into the roleplay. With Zayne now lying comfortably on the bed, you scooch over, placing your hand over his chest. 

“Checking for my pulse? Where’s your stethoscope?” 

You roll your eyes at him. “I don’t need one to know that your heart is racing right now. Do you feel uncomfortable? Any chest pains?” 

“Yes, it does hurt a little.” 

“Where?” You experimentally press on his left pec. “Here?” You shift your hand downward slightly. “Or here?” 

“No.” Zayne grabs your wrist then, and without warning, pulls you down with a hard tug. You lose your balance, falling straight towards him and you barely manage to stop yourself from giving him a headbutt when your left hand plants itself into the mattress right by his face. 

In this position, you’re now mere inches away from his lips, and his piercing gaze doesn’t leave your eyes as he re-positions your right hand on his chest. 

“Here.” You feel his strong heartbeat beneath your fingers, and the warmth of his breath fanning across your face. Just a little closer and you’ll be able to taste his lips and lose yourself in his passionate, fiery kisses. 

He’s clearly thinking the same thing as you, eyes falling to your parted lips. He sucks in a sharp breath when your tongue wets your lips — a habit of yours when you’re nervous. And then you feel his free hand come up to rest on the nape of your neck to pull you in, closer and closer to him. 

It’d be so tempting to just give up now, to let him have his way with you and to get that quality time and intimacy you’ve been craving all day now. In fact, you’ve been waiting a whole week for this, because lately Zayne has been too busy and today was the only day you could squeeze in a precious date with him. 

But that’s also the reason why you want to enjoy this to the fullest. After all, it’s not often that Zayne is so indulgent with you in bed. 

At the last second, you regain your senses and place your right hand over his mouth, putting an unceremonious halt to his attempt to kiss you. His lips graze the surface of your palm and that’s enough to make goosebumps rise on your arms. 

“If your chest hurts, let’s take a closer look, shall we? I’ll need you to take your shirt off.”

[prudentseer]

etho down bad on his knees for joel after initially rejecting him but pride-and-prejudice-enemies-to-lovers-period-drama style

sorry i had to find someone who might(?) share the vision

Hold my hand when I say this anon but never be afraid to drop your takes into my inbox, I love to hear them regardless of whether or not I see the vision.

Fortunately for you however. I SEE THE VISION, I UNDERSTAND YOU.

The "fell first--fell harder" dynamic for boat boys fits SO WELL in my mind because of double life. Etho being wary of Joel, kinda sad that he's teamed with him and by the end he's right there with Joel in chanting "The ship burns everything burns". Also their dynamic in limited life where they were "exes"...they are enemies your honour. I call that character development.

In fact, I see the vision so much that I actually wrote something in a more arranged marriage, period drama-esc style a long while back. It's unfinished (and a bit out of order for context purposes) because historical fiction is not my specialty and I know it's not exactly what you asked for, but it's what I had and I thought I'd share a snippet (it's 1.2k words I don't think I can exactly call it that anymore) of it.

It was odd, really, how much love could feel like an obsession.

He expressed it as quietly as he possibly could in forehead kisses and small gifts; just so it didn't collect in his chest to claw at the confines and suffocate him. And it was probably dramatic to say but with the lack of air he felt around Joel it truly did feel as though if he didn't let some of it out of his heart, he'd explode.

Or even worse, he'd tell Joel how he really felt.

He'd gotten dangerously close on occasion after too many drinks by the fireplace or Joel dancing a step too close. But he didn't.

Because Joel didn't love him back.

And why would he? Etho had all but forbidden him from doing so.

This day had felt equal parts fast and agonizingly slow. But he had a feeling that a marriage he didn't agree to, with someone he barely liked, for power he couldn't have might have something to do with that.

Joel rests on the edge of the bed, one leg up and crossed on the mattress while the other dangled loosely over the edge. His tie hung loose around his neck and his shoes long kicked off but his suit still on. Etho leaned against the dresser across from him, arms folded and mouth pressed into a firm line. The grandfather clock ticking beside them. It had been three minutes and 29 seconds since they've entered their shared room and neither of them had spoken.

It was much easier to watch as time passed silently than it was to look at the person in his bed, the matching ring on his finger.

A heavy sigh startles him from his thoughts. "Listen, could you at least pretend to tolerate me?"

Etho blinks slowly. "I--"

"Don't say you have because how you've been acting like there's been a knife at your throat the entire day." Joel interrupts, running a hand through his hair. A nervous tick, something Etho noticed in the time they've spent together. "I've sent you three letters since we last saw each other; none of which you replied to, you were barely there for any of the planning process and when I see you for our actual wedding, you can't even look me in the eye."

"That's because--"

"Of what? Because I told you that I loved you?" Joel rolls his eyes. "God, excuse me for putting an effort to make it work with the man I've been betrothed to for over a year."

He remembers the day. They'd been exchanging letters weekly for several months at this point but it was only their third official time meeting in person. It was a nice day so they took a walk through Joel's garden and I instead of the flowers Etho noticed that there was this look in Joel's eye, a smile on his face and a certain tone in his voice...Joel didn't even need to tell him. He just knew. It made it extremely uncomfortable to see him again, that they both knew.

He glances down at the ring on his own finger before shaking his head.

"I'm never going to love you like you want me to."

"That's fine." Joel states, a small twitch in his face betraying his words. "I'll...I'll get over it eventually if it means you'll work with me."

Etho tilts his head. "Work with you?"

"You don't have to love me. You don't even have to like me or be friends with me..."

"But...?"

"But we're going to be a team." Joel finishes, pulling off his tie in one swift movement as he does. "This means you're going to sit next to me at gatherings, you're going to dance with me at least once when we're invited to balls, you'll eat one meal a day with me, you'll share a room with me and please for the love of God, at the very least don't look like you're going to throw up when you see me."

A compromise. A reasonable one.

"I can do that." Etho replies, as level as he can, straightening his own tie as he does. "On one condition."

"What?"

"You won't ever expect anything more."

He's being bitter and he knows it. Taking out his anger out on someone who doesn't deserve it, someone who didn't ask for this either. It's unlike him really, that he can't bring himself to care.

"You're not exactly making it difficult lad."

"Joel--"

"You have a deal."

Etho nods. "Then I'll play the part."

"You'll play the part *well*."

"I promise."

Etho didn't remember exactly when it stopped being a show to him.

"Really interesting page?"

Etho blinks himself back into reality, Joel staring at him so intently from his side of the bed that he feels his chest tighten. "What?"

Joel chuckles, rubbing his eyes sleepily before shuffling close enough that Etho can wrap an arm around his shoulder. And he does, squeezing it lightly as his arm curls around.

"You've been staring at this page blankly for the past ten minutes." Etho glances at the grandfather clock in the corner. It's been longer. "You don't have to read the book if you don't like it."

This book was Joel's recommendation and Etho had to admit that it was good, he'd just been...very distracted lately.

"No I like it's just..."

"Yeah?" He smiles, head bumping Etho's shoulder. It burns. Every touch Joel gives him feels like fire has been set to his veins. "What's wrong?"

And his eyes are staring up at him so soft and kind and warm and understanding and it feels like he can tell him anything. Almost anything. The words feel heavy on his tongue, going down like oil as he swallows them.

"Nothing, you should go back to sleep."

He won't be able to resist forever but he buys himself one more day.

Joel's nose wrinkles. "You--"

And Etho is saved by the fact Joel's interrupted by his own yawn.

"You know I'm not stupid right Etho?" Joel states, settling further into Etho's arm as he does. Etho only pulls the sheet tighter. "You've been weirder than usual and if you won't tell me, I'll figure it out myself."

Theoretically, he could tell him but what then? He wouldn't leave, he wouldn't laugh but if Joel knew what Etho felt for him, he would never let him get this close to him again.

And it'd exactly what he deserved.

Karma for being an asshole to someone who just wanted to not be treated like dirt by his husband of circumstance and all he can do is accept it. Accept that he missed his chance.

Maybe one day his heart will catch up with his brain.

"Goodnight Joel."

"I'm serious." He yawns again, head tucked into the crook of Etho neck; breath tickling his clavicle. "I know you better than you like. Just wait."

It's true and it's even scary sometimes. Etho wonders how on earth he got so lucky to have someone that understands him like Joel. Someone who was willing to stick by his side through everything.

Etho waits until Joel is settled, snoring softly again before he places his book down gently on the nightstand, blowing out the table side candle. He tilts his head and presses a soft kiss to the top of Joel's head, waiting in case he stirs.

"I love you." He whispers into his hair, taking a breath when there's no response.

And the part of his chest settles just enough that he feels like he can sleep too.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

flowers in the window - ep40

summary: elias pettersson x f!reader // inspired by this song! // just moments of your relationship with elias (each break has a timeskip of a few years)

warnings: mentions of drinking alcohol, reader can play the piano, fluff, i think there might be some tense mistakes at the start, panic attacks, anxiety, angst, swearing, , stress relating to teaching/work, mentions of dying alone, mentions of marriage, babies (+Quinn's fictional partner is called Kat!)

word count: 8.1k

You watched the slender fingers dance playfully over the keys, catching occasionally on the ebony, tapping out a random and entirely chaotic tune that had you trying not to smile at the attempt to pull something out of you – mostly anything to distract you from the lies Brock had fed you in order to promise your attendance, and to his efforts, it was working.

The loud chatter and bustling crowds were still on your mind, there was no doubt about that, but with your back to everything and your ‘peace-offering’ doing his best to distract you, it was starting to work. Although, it was hard to break the habit of looking at your watch every five minutes, knowing that you’d have to get out of bed early the next morning for work. In fact, it was that knowledge that made you reluctant to even attend this ‘small gathering’ in the first place, something Brock had taken in his stride and then proceeded to lie about.

Hence, the peace offering in the form of a very familiar Swede, who was a little too willing to get you to crack a smile for someone who didn’t usually do that kind of thing.

You shook your head at his obnoxious banging of keys, the sound hardly even heard over the voices behind you, and gently reached your own hands to tap his away as you played out a short snippet of something that at least sounded vaguely nicer than his nonsensical mess.

You could feel his eyes intently watching where you put your fingers, his own palms resting against the tops of his jean-clad thighs. The tune was one of the first ones you’d learnt as a kid: Für Elise, and although the notes of the piano were quieter due to the party-scene raging, you could tell Elias was still trying to commit your motions to memory, just further down on the piano.

His hands came to rest against the keys once more, head tilting back in your direction to where your own fingers were still poised over the correct keys, translating the pattern to his own hands. Back and forth, back and forth between his hands and yours, and his sheer concentration on getting his fingers in the correct place actually prompted a soft laugh from you.

Despite his focus on his hands, you saw the way the corner of his mouth quirked up at the sound, a triumphant little smile that stuck around until you began slowly playing the first couple of notes for him to copy – then it faded a little, upon the realisation that he couldn’t quite assemble his fingers and move them to the correct notes in the right order.

“Here.” You mumbled, scooching across what little space was left between you both, until your shoulders, hips and thighs were pressed together, and reached under his fingers to place your own hands.

His hands were a little cold, and almost without even intending to, your attention shot briefly to the sweating bottle of beer placed rightfully on a coaster on top of the lip to the piano, before shooting back down to your hands. His touch was delicate, as though he was half-hesitating on whether or not he should fully allow his weight to rest over the backs of your hands, and you pushed your hands a little further into the palms of his, encouraging him to place his fingers over the back of yours.

You lowered your fingers to the keys, ensuring to press slowly so the pattern would be easier to digest, and then stopped. When you tilted your head a little to gauge his reaction, his eyes were already fixed on you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

He wasn’t even watching what you were trying to show him.

“I didn’t know you could play.” He said, lifting his hands from yours so you could remove yourself from his grip.

“I just know a few things.” You shook your head, dismissing his comment with a few melodic taps against the keys, drawing his attention from you to the piano under your hands, “How do you know I can play anyway, we can barely hear it over Brock’s racket?”

“I just…” He trailed off, his fingers tapping out what you’d shown him, before pausing. Your eyes snapped to his side profile, taking in the slight furrow of his brow and the slight part of his mouth when he got stuck on the next key.

You straightened on the bench, leaning over to move his fingers to the right keys, and, like a switch had been flicked, he seemed to relax, his fingers continuing as though he’d not had that small stumble in the first place.

“I guess it’s just blind faith.” He laughed a little under his breath, the avoidance of eye contact screaming everything he didn’t say, and you felt your face flush a little at the insinuation.

His honesty, no matter how long you’d known him or how long you’d been dating, never really failed to stun you. You weren’t sure if he knew what he was doing to you when he said things like that so effortlessly and so easily, and you felt your breath hitch a little in your chest.

No one really knew about you guys – Quinn definitely did, but that was only because he, quote, unquote: could just tell. Neither you or Elias were putting in much effort to hide your relationship, but it had slowly gotten to the point where Brock was trying to set you guys up with other people; at first it was a little amusing, but as the weeks drifted by and he still remained insistent in the matter, it became less endearing.

Though, there had been many times where Brock had done or said something that might have hinted at him knowing something. For instance, today’s ‘peace offering’ came in the form of Petey sitting by himself, his back to the party and his elbow draped across the shut lid as he drafted a text to you and it wasn’t the first time Brock had used Petey as a selling point whenever you were sceptical of going out.

You inhaled, blinking away from him, “Noted.”

He nudged you with his elbow teasingly, “Are you turning red?”

You rolled your eyes fondly, shaking your head, “Give me a song.”

“Uh,” he leant his head back slightly in thought, “do you know the Blinding Lights intro?” He quirked a brow in your direction, blue eyes staring straight into yours with a softness you’d learnt was mostly reserved for you.

You swallowed, “Yeah, I can try to…just give me a minute.” You tapped on a few keys, trying to match it to the intro you knew, vaguely aware of Elias’s intent gaze now locked on you, a far cry from the subtlety he usually reserved for you in public settings.

It was partially why you weren’t surprised when his phone buzzed on top of the piano, a message notification from Brock. He sighed audibly, you continuing to play around with the keys, and swiped the notification open, sneakily tilting his phone in your direction when he read the screen.

You pretended to keep playing, your eyes now taking in the message, before rolling your eyes with an amused smile.

Brock Canucks: When I start kicking people out it doesn’t apply to you guys

“I knew he’d regret inviting this many people.” You muttered, your attention suddenly getting stolen by a wet nose nudging your leg. Your hands flew off the piano, reaching down to show Milo some love, before hauling him up to sit on your knee.

Fifteen minutes later all three of you had migrated to the couch, all seemingly a little too tired to be actively engaged in the conversation Brock had instigated with Quinn and JT. Elias had shivered when he’d sat down, the sudden loss of the crowd sending the temperature plummeting in Brock’s apartment and subsequently doing nothing to shield his bare arms in his short-sleeved t-shirt. 

You hadn’t said anything to him, just thrown the blanket you knew to rest across the back of the couch across both your laps, and watched him settle his head snugly against your ribs, the blanket pulled right up to his chin and his legs kicked out across the carpet. Milo had somehow buried himself under the blanket too, his nose tucked under Elias’s chin and body draped across the both of you, acting as a living, breathing hot water bottle.

After a while, though, Elias’s hand stroking Milo’s head had slowed, and his eyes had fluttered closed after a yawn, and from your higher position, you could just make out the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. You didn’t know if it was because he was already exhausted before he even left the house, or the combination of alcohol, warmth and the gentle sweep of your fingers across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones that had sent him over the edge, but you’d made sure the latter was hidden from his teammates by the lump of Milo’s body. 

Brock must have seen, though, but he hadn’t said anything, just smiled.

***

It was a knock at the door that had you peering over the top of your laptop screen to share a confused glance with Petey. His hand momentarily tightened on your calf when he turned around to glance at the front door, turning back to you with a ‘what the hell?’ look pasted on his face.

“Are we expecting anyone?” You asked, snapping the lid of your laptop shut and swinging your legs out of Elias’s lap to put the laptop on the coffee table.

It was always a shock when someone knocked on your apartment door, mostly because the only people who could essentially get that far in the building were people that lived there, otherwise security would have buzzed up. Needless to say, when that person knocked again, you were both propelled so quickly off the sofa that your newly-adopted dog startled awake and eagerly followed you both on your heels as you rushed to the door, slipping slightly in your socks.

It was Elias that managed to slide to the door quicker, rolling his eyes and immediately retreating back to the couch after peeking through the peephole. You watched him with a frown, the dog between you both snapping his head back and forth, eventually settling for rejoining the Swede on the cushions once more.

“Who…” You started, immediately understanding the lack of enthusiastic reaction when it was Brock on the other side of the door, pink-cheeked and looking a little nervous.

“Hi.” You threw open the door with a friendly smile, a hand coming to rest on your hip as Brock seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

“Hey, sorry to barge in here unannounced,” he started, stuffing his hands in his pockets, stepping into the apartment when you opened the door to let him in. He seemed to scan the entire room, the worried crease between his brows disappearing when he couldn’t see Elias, who, rather rudely, had hidden himself on the sofa, not a single socked foot or hair visible from where Brock seemed to lead you over to the kitchen island, “I just need to talk to you now Petey’s not here.”

Your eyes zipped to the sofa, a little suspicious but entirely too invested in the anticipation to even bother correcting Brock – probably at his own expense, but you had no issue dealing with any potential fallout later.

He rifled through your cupboards, not saying anything else until he’d pulled out a glass and filled it with water from the tap, before turning to you and gesturing to the island stool, a nervous expression on his face.

You swallowed, a sudden pebble of dread settling in your stomach as you took the seat, too apprehensive to tease him for making himself at home.

“So…” he started, clearing his throat, before deciding to take a sip of water.

“You’re kind of freaking me out–”

“It’s nothing bad, I swear.” He interrupted, spluttering slightly as his cheeks coloured, “In fact, it’s really good.”

You blinked, a little unsure, “Okay.”

“Thank you.” He said, a little breathlessly and with an air of finality, an awkward smile on his face. 

You blinked, expecting him to elaborate, but when all he did next was take another sip of water, you felt your face contort into a confused frown. You’d known Brock for years, he’d been the one to introduce you and Petey in the first place, but even after finding out about you two, he’d never acted weirder than he was now. He was tetchy, out of breath and pink – the latter wasn’t exactly unusual for him, but combined with the other two things? 

Concerning.

“What for?” You asked, folding your arms against the countertop. 

There was a clacking of paws and a chinkling of a collar making its way towards where you and Brock were in the kitchen, and you instinctively reached a hand down, a wet nose greeting the inside of your palm before wandering over to nudge Brock in the leg.

He bent down, using the interruption as a reprieve from answering your question, “Hey, girl.” He cooed, scratching Tuesday behind the ears until her attention had dwindled and she silently padded back to the sofa, disappearing from sight once more as she presumably curled up against Elias once more.

Brock cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “Um…I don’t know how to say it.”

You inhaled, pursing your lips, “Right.” There was a pause, neither of you quite knowing where to go from there, “Just say what you’re thinking and then correct it if it doesn’t sound right.”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair, “I guess I just wanted to thank you for loving Petey the way you do, and I know that’s a weird thing to thank someone for, because a thank you implies that it’s some kind of chore, which it isn’t but…It’s comforting to know my best friends are happy with each other and have someone looking out for them.” He took a breath, watching you carefully, “I think it’s kinda weird, actually, because I remember this one time distinctly before he met you and he’d had quite a lot to drink, he ended up talking about how he was probably gonna die alone, so it’s just nice to know that that’s not the case. Also, you guys are good together. Just wanted to say that because I don’t think I’ve ever said how glad I am that you found each other when you did.”

The only thing you could truly register was the pounding of your heart against your sternum. That, and the way your jaw seemed to have dropped as you took in everything Brock was saying. It was a lot.

“Oh.” Was all you could say, entirely too overwhelmed with gratitude and appreciation for the man in front of you, his hands clenching and unclenching as though he wasn’t sure if he should approach you or not, to even get anything else out.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, leaning his head down to get a look at your face. When he realised you weren’t in the least bit upset at what he’d said, he seemed to relax, an easy smile making its way onto his face.

There was a distant shuffle from somewhere behind you, and you saw Brock’s eyes dart to the sofa, mouth immediately setting itself into a hard line as his head dipped down mid-sigh. It was pretty easy to guess what he’d figured out when his eyes swung back to you, now shooting a sheepish smile in his direction, “Is he over there?” He mouthed, and it was the slight wince in his features that you took pity on, shaking your head.

“He’s asleep.” You lied, voice loud enough to make sure Elias would get the memo in case Brock decided to do some investigating of his own, “And I’m fine, I just wasn’t expecting you to say all of that.”

He shrugged, buying your excuse, “It needed to be said.”

You reached a hand across the counter to lovingly pat his own, “Thank you.”

He smiled, exhaling, “I promise my speech will be better at your wedding.” He grinned cheekily, clearly getting a jab in at Elias where he could, and you simply rolled your eyes, unable to help breathing a laugh at him.

Brock’s eyes flickered back to the couch, before settling on you, your cheeks a little pinker at his insinuation. You didn’t correct him, there wouldn’t be much of a point – marriage had been talked about so often between you and Elias that the nerves surrounding the entire thing were little to none. You had plans, and Brock was aware of those plans. It still didn’t stop him teasing the both of you every now and then.

Yet, because you and Elias had talked about it, it also meant you were privy to some information that Brock wasn’t – not that he knew any better when it came to your word.

“What makes you think you’re going to be the best man?” You asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

He blinked, before tilting his head, “I’m not?”

He was. Maybe.

You shrugged coyly, enjoying the furrow in his brow and his stuttering, “Well, who is if not me?” His voice was shrill with disbelief, perhaps verging on being a little bit panicky – as though he hadn’t ever thought of the possibility of not being the best man, and you felt a stab of guilt at his sudden change in demeanour, “Is it Quinn?”

And because he looked so heartbroken at the possibility, you couldn’t not tell him a partial truth; the only thing stopping you was the tiny likelihood of Elias changing his mind, “I don’t know, we haven’t actually talked about that.” Was what you settled for.

He nodded, relaxing almost immediately. It was difficult to miss the way his gaze darted to the empty space on your left ring finger, brows twitching.

You leant across the counter, mindful to lower your voice so Elias couldn’t overhear, “Do you know something I don’t?” You whispered, eyes wide. You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears when he shrugged, trying not to smile at you.

“I love what you’ve done with the place.” He said loudly, pointedly looking everywhere but at you, which did nothing but tell you more than his avoidance on the matter did.

You said nothing, but delighted in the new slip of information, unable to help laughing at the blonde in front of you, “You know we haven’t redecorated since we moved in.”

Brock smiled, “How long ago was that, again? Two years?”

“Three.”

“Ah.” His smile didn’t waver, though there was an added layer of mischief, one which had you squinting curiously in his direction.

He was hinting at something, that much was for certain.

“Right.” He sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets and shrugging, fully aware of the seed he’d just planted in your mind, “I best get going. Coolie and Milo can only be away from me for so long until they get separation anxiety, so…It was nice to see you.” He trailed off, making his way to the door, you not too far behind.

He stopped in the doorway, the wall shielding him from any blonde Swede potentially watching from his seat, and turned to you with a gentle, genuine smile on his face, “He’s not asleep, is he?”

You shook your head, “No.”

“Give Petey my love.” Brock said, once more loud enough for Petey to have heard him, and he wasted no time in wrapping you up in a brief hug.

“Thanks for what you said, it means a lot.” You mumbled, “Love you too, y’know?”

He pulled away, “Yeah, I know.”

“I’ll see you next week?” You asked hopefully, Brock opening the door and stepping out into the hallway, hands tucked securely in his pockets as he nodded.

“See you.”

As soon as you shut the door, you found yourself making your way back to the couch with some urgency, only to falter at the sight of Tuesday draped across Elias’s torso, her nose tucked into his shoulder as he hugged her to him. His eyes were open, and there was a rueful smile on his face that remained, even when you sat on the edge of the coffee table and folded your arms, attempting to look a little annoyed.

“So…” You started, tilting your head.

“So…” He echoed, pursing his lips in an effort not to laugh.

“We have really good friends.” 

He just nodded, one hand absent-mindedly rubbing across Tuesday’s back.

“Almost too good, I mean, you could argue Brock’s loyalty lies more towards me than you.” You looked away from him pointedly, disappointed that the coffee table was too low for you to start swinging your legs, and when you looked at him out of the corner of your eye, he’d perked up a little.

There was a small crease between his brows, and the sheepish smile on his lips had vanished, his suspicion piqued at your words.

“What did he say?”

“Well,” you shrugged sarcastically, “you’d know if you didn’t choose to ignore him at the door.”

He groaned, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, “In my defence, Quinn sent me a text telling me if I saw Brock and he came in asking for you, to make myself scarce. I’d have said something if he hadn’t initially asked if I was there.” He sighed, turning to you, “Now, what did he say?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know.”

***

You were pacing, hand against your chest in a futile attempt to calm your racing heart and the crush of dread coursing through your veins. You’d ended up in this situation a little too often lately for comfort: on the verge of a panic attack at the mere thought of your job. It certainly wasn’t a good sign. Not only that but it was terribly inconvenient, too.

You were at some gala Elias had been invited to along with a few other teammates, and all it had taken was for a well-meaning, polite ‘so, what do you do?’ from a kind stranger for everything to come crashing down. You’d answered easily, trying to ignore the way the world seemed to fall away at the time, but almost as soon as you’d answered, you’d excused yourself and shut yourself in one of the farthest rooms from where the event was taking place.

This was the fourth time these mini-panic attacks had happened – though, three out of four times you’d managed to calm yourself down to a sensible enough composure and prevent it from ever reaching the ‘panic or heart attack?’ stage that you’d dealt with the first time.

Elias didn’t know about them. No one knew – but this time you just knew you were going to have to come clean because the truth of the matter was that you were having a hard time, and Elias knew you were, but you didn’t talk about it, and you knew he was worried for you. You’d caught him looking at you differently lately, and if you were being honest, the longer you left it before you told him, the worse it’d get, and that wouldn’t be good for anyone – least of all you.

Your chest was aching, and even despite your hand massaging the tenderness, it did little to ease the pain.

The door creaked open slowly, and you stopped pacing, still continuing to inhale and exhale steadily as you watched it carefully, anticipating someone to clearly stick their head through the door–

“Thank fuck, what are you doing here?” You seemed to recognise his voice before your brain could comprehend his blonde buzzcut and piercing eyes, and the anxiety bubbling away under your skin seemed to react accordingly, prickling a little as the heaviness momentarily spiked.

He’d never seen you like this: every time you’d had these little episodes he hadn’t even been in the house, or you were hiding in a closet in the school away from everyone, and for a second you were scared of what he’d think of you. 

Only, when he stepped further into the room and shut the door behind him, all that self-consciousness seemed to melt away when he immediately clocked onto the way your hand was rubbing insistently at your chest. You couldn't even imagine what your face looked like, but you knew your eyes would be rimmed red (you absolutely refused to cry because you’d spent a long time getting ready for this, and ruining your makeup at this point would only make things worse), and that alone was enough for him to say something.

You frowned, not hearing anything but the rushing of blood in your ears, and then you were worried for him. He was looking at you, and you couldn’t remember if he’d ever looked at you with such concern before. If he had, you were almost certain you’d never seen it, but if he hadn’t, that meant that he knew something was very, very wrong.

Sometimes you really didn’t know why you underestimated his ability to read you and to know you as well as he did, because it was beginning to get to the point where he could read you more often than he couldn’t, and you were exhausting any possible methods of trying to hide things from him, because, as usual, he’d begin to see through those behaviours too.

“Huh?” You asked, a little breathlessly.

He hesitated, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself, “What’s wrong?” He repeated, looking so utterly serious that you suddenly had the urge to laugh.

You didn’t, though. In fact, your face barely moved from what it looked like, and you were too overwhelmed to even think about wondering what it looked like, because your heart was racing and panic still had an iron grip on your heart, and you were sure you were rubbing the skin on your chest red with the heel of your hand, but if you stopped, you had the bizarre notion that things would only worsen.

“I…” You started, swallowing and inhaling sharply. It was difficult to look him in the eyes and say what you wanted to say, what you’d planned to say, and even though you could just tell he had a million questions on the tip of his tongue, he was going to great lengths to keep them at bay for your sake, and you loved him even more for it in that moment.

His eyes drifted to your hand, and you looked away – there was a painting on the wall and if you focused on that…You didn’t even know, but it felt right to focus on that.

“Can I touch you?” He asked softly, and you nodded, inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth, eyes fixated on the painting.

It looked like it could be a replica Monet.

He seemed to breathe a quiet sigh of relief, and before you had time to think about it, his cold hands came to close around yours, and you stopped rubbing your chest, a shaky exhale passing your lips. You had no idea if he could feel your heart hammering wildly, and if he could he made no move to show it.

His cold hands felt nice against your burning skin. Some of the pain alleviated a little, and the tightness eased – not completely, it was still there – but the cold touch was heavenly. Against your own will, you felt your eyes flutter shut.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened, is it?” He whispered, and you shook your head, concentrating on your breathing. Calming an erratic heart rate was hard when it mattered, though it was undoubtedly easier with someone else to distract you a little bit.

He didn’t say anything in reply, but his hands squeezed yours and this time you felt it within yourself to manage words.

“How’d you know that?” You whispered, peeling your eyes open slowly. 

His lips twitched upwards a little bit after you looked at him, a small triumph in the grand scheme of things, but you couldn’t quite reciprocate it just yet. Though, when you asked the question, it seemed to flicker and he fell back into that concerned stare, the smile melting completely off his face, “You were already doing breathing techniques.”

You nodded.

“This room’s cute.” He mumbled, turning his head.

It was the first time you’d noticed it, actually. There were windows on your left, and you could see the view from the building: the event wasn’t that high up, but from where you were standing the building directly opposite the street was much smaller, meaning you could see for a couple of blocks around. The sun was beginning to set, and the orange light was reflecting off the glass, and you knew if it had been under any other circumstance, you’d have thought this room to be a little romantic. The paintings certainly helped, but the wooden shelves seemed to ruin the whole mood. 

Still, you agreed with him. Partly because it did help to take your mind off everything, and partly because you knew the engagement would help him too. It was a win-win.

“I think that painting’s a Monet one.” You muttered, using your free hand to point over his shoulder. He kept his own securely wrapped around the one pressed to your chest, and turned to look.

“Looks like it.” He paused, before turning to look at it again, “It’d look good in our living room, don’t you think?”

You pulled a face, “Nah, it’ll clash with the walls.”

“And for that reason, it’d be a solid pick for Brock’s taste.”

This time you laughed – it felt a bit pathetic, but the endorphins helped ease the tension everywhere, and with a bout of relief, the tightness seemed to fade further, and your heart rate decreased, and you found you could actually hear the event down the hall; you could smell the woody scent of the room, and how it must have grown stronger in the warmth, and you could smell Elias’s aftershave. 

The latter felt like a soft nudge in the ribs, one of nostalgia, like your brain saying ‘hey, we know that smell, it means good things’, and with that your shoulders relaxed.

“Sorry.” You said, your head still a little fuzzy.

“Don’t apologise–”

“I should have told you.”

He shook his head, but didn’t say anything. If he was being honest, he didn’t know what to say in this kind of situation.

“It’s work.” You continued, taking another deep breath; the hand on your chest flexed, and Elias took the hint, unravelling his hands, only for you to still grab ahold of one. You needed it, especially if you were about to talk about the very thing that sent you into this panic in the first place, “The new head of department is…He’s really unhelpful, not approachable, and a fucking dick, like…” you breathed a bitter laugh, beginning to feel your eyes water, “He’s changed the entire department’s structure, doubled the amount of practicals and added new stuff and I’ve been trying to plan new lessons in the middle of the lessons because I’m not allowed to work overtime and get it done then, which is why I’ve been doing it at home. And half the department’s off with stress already, so I’ve been teaching food, too, on top of textiles, and…” You took a breath, realising Elias already knew half of what you were saying, but he was still listening as intently as he would have done the first time you’d said it, “He’s friends with the Principal, too, so even if I wanted to complain about him it wouldn’t get very far.”

He inhaled sharply, “He’s friends with the Principal?” 

“Unfortunately, yeah.”

“Fucking hell.” He groaned like someone had just shot down the only idea in his arsenal for this conversation, “I knew it was bad, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Um…I had a plan, like what I was going to tell you, but I can’t remember that now because I obviously wasn’t expecting this to happen now.” You laughed a little, even despite yourself, but it lacked energy, and it was strangely empty. 

Elias tilted his head, brows knitting together, and he sighed sadly, his thumb tracing across the back of your hand. And because you knew him, you knew that keeping this huge thing from him hurt him. He didn’t show it outwardly, though, not intentionally, “You know you don’t need a plan with me, right?” 

You felt your chin wobble – completely out of your control, “Ye–You’re gonna make me cry, and I spent hours on–”

“-Your makeup, yeah. Come here.” He used your interlocked hands as leverage to pull you into him, your chin resting on his shoulder thanks to your heels, and you sniffed, once more turning to focus on the painting behind him, trying to ward off possible tears.

“I’m gonna book a Doctor’s appointment and get a sick note, I don’t know how long for, and I’m gonna take some time off to figure it out, y’know, maybe it’ll be okay if I move schools, or–or maybe I don’t want to be a teacher anymore, I don’t know.” You trailed off, squeezing your eyes shut.

Teaching had been a large chunk of your career, and you knew it was a big bomb to drop in probably not the best moment: his team were outside, as were important donors and sponsors, and here you were, shut in a room together, because maybe the degree you went to college for wasn’t actually something you were meant to do, and everyone around you had these big plans, ambitions for their futures, and you didn’t. You hated your job, now. Most mornings you’d get up and have to fight with yourself to just get ready for school, and the more you thought about it, the more you knew you should have told him sooner.

“That’s okay, y’know? It’s okay.” Was all he said, his arms wrapped securely across your shoulders, “It’s okay if you don’t want to go back into teaching, too.”

You almost started crying then and there, but you held off, “I don’t know what I’d do, though.”

He shrugged, “You don’t have to do anything.”

There was a thinly veiled insinuation there, one that he’d made before, mostly as a reassuring joke, but to say it in this moment, to say it now, you knew he wasn’t joking anymore. Maybe he hadn’t ever been joking.

“I think I’d go crazy if I didn’t do anything.” 

He huffed a laugh, “We don’t have to think about that yet, though.”

“I should’ve told you.” He’d have helped make you feel better, perhaps take some of the weight off your shoulders.

“You told me now. There’s no point dwelling.”

“I can feel a ‘but’ coming…”

“Not a ‘but’, but…” you both huffed a laugh, “Part of my job, not as a hockey player, but as your boyfriend is to help you with this kind of thing. We share the load, right?” 

“Yeah.”

You stood like that for a while, until your breathing and heart calmed, until the pain in your chest subsided, and until it looked like you weren’t about to start crying.

“Do you want to go home?” Elias mumbled into your hair, ever patient.

“Not yet. We should stay for a bit longer.”

He hummed, the vibration ticking the skin on your forehead, “You wanna stay here for a bit longer or go back in?”

“Stay here. Five minutes.”

***

Elias was a little nervous at exactly what would happen when Quinn would come down the steps with his brand new baby girl in his arms, but admittedly not for the reasons anyone would expect. He’d held newborn babies before, Quinn wasn’t the first teammate to have a child and he certainly won’t be the last – no, Elias wasn’t worried about that.

His apprehension stemmed from something inside his own mind, a paranoia of sorts. You guys had been together for six years and married for two, and so he knew the expectations of the natural order to follow after that much time together. It was only typical for people to assume that kids were the next thing: his own parents were bad enough, asking when they were going to get a grandbaby on their hands, and if he was being honest, Elias felt like everyone was looking at him for it.

Which was illogical, because not only was no one looking at him; he knew the teasing was utterly and completely harmless…only, the more he got chirped for it, the more he seemed to doubt his own thoughts.

He was thirty now. You guys had talked about having kids in your future, they were on the cards, but he didn’t want them yet. He guessed he was lucky in the fact that you didn’t either, but he was afraid that baby Lily Hughes, with her little fists and chubby legs, would change his mind.

And a change of mind was the last thing Elias wanted. If he was being completely honest, he wouldn’t mind having kids right now – he was broody, he was starting to pay more attention to names and clothes, and he felt a pang of something in his chest when he’d see his teammates with their kids at the family skate sessions. Yet, the one thing holding him back the most was his career.

When he eventually has kids of his own, he doesn’t want to leave both you and your child at home for weeks on end whilst he was off skating fuck knows where. He didn’t think he could do that; it was already hard leaving you alone, but there was something so utterly heart-wrenching about the thought of adding a child into that mix.

He’d be a fucking mess. The guilt? The loneliness? He’d miss his family too much.

But, there was a little voice in the back of his mind, known as Kris Letang – or rather, words that he’d spoken and Elias had read once upon a time – telling him that maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad if he had a child that grew up understanding and appreciating what it was he did. 

The idea of taking a mini-you and mini-him to those family skating sessions sounded like an absolute dream. As did having a little one behind the boards at his games, and a plethora of other things, too.

And to top it all off, he was standing in his best friend’s living room, staring at the cards and flowers in the window, you upstairs and out of sight at Kat’s bedside, and everything he’d tried to bottle was coming to the surface and he essentially had absolutely nothing to stop it.

Except–

“Hey,” Quinn pushed open the door, Elias’s attention snapping to the bundle of blankets in his arms, “Lily, meet your Uncle Petey.” Quinn cooed, face alight with utter joy as he positioned the baby girl in his arms for Elias to peer down–

Oh.

Oh.

Elias swallowed, something in chest melting at the brown eyes blinking wearily up at him and little fists struggling in the air. 

She’s gorgeous.

“I know, right?” Quinn breathed, watching Petey’s reaction with glistening eyes.

Had he said that out loud? 

He had no time to dwell on it before Quinn was talking again, “You wanna hold her?”

He felt himself nodding before he even thought about speaking, and Quinn carefully, slowly, gently lifted Lily into Elias’s waiting arms, adjusting his arms to support her head. Elias blinked, registering the warmth seeping into his arms from the blankets, the weight in his arms almost too light to be an entire human being – she was so tiny.

She wasn’t that much bigger than his entire hand.

He traced a finger so gently across her cheek, unable to really realise that Quinn was laughing at him as he wandered into the kitchen to get a start on making some coffees. 

In fact, Elias couldn’t really look away until he heard your footsteps coming down the stairs. Only then was he able to realise that he hadn’t even moved from his spot when Quinn had handed him Lily initially. Though, when he took a quick glance down at her, her eyes were shut, mouth open a little as she slept, and he seemed to fall even deeper down the rabbit hole of what-the-fuck-I-might-want-a-baby.

That was how you found him when you finally entered the living room: standing as still as humanly possible by the window, his gaze locked firmly on the bundle in his arms and something in his entire demeanour that had you sharing a rather bewildered glance with Quinn, who was blinking tiredly from where he’d sat down on the couch.

Despite Petey’s clear hesitancy to move in fear of waking her up, he looked strangely natural holding Lily with such care and adoration. You didn’t say anything or approach him, but you did take a seat next to Quinn.

“You did good.” You whispered, a smile on your face, “She’s gorgeous.”

He grinned, “I know.”

“Is anyone else coming today or are we your last visitors?”

His eyes zipped to the clock on the mantelpiece, “You guys are the last ones for today. We’ve got the grandparents tomorrow.”

“Grandparents.” Then, after a brief pause, “It feels so surreal that you’re a Dad now. A good surreal, but…”

“Weird?” He offered, and you nodded, “You know what’s next?”

You hummed, feeling his foot nudge your leg playfully, “What?”

“Baby Peteys.” 

You rolled your eyes, “We’ll see.”

You nodded your head in the direction of Elias, who still had his back to you, and Quinn smiled in understanding, letting you go. 

“Hi.” You mumbled into Elias’s shoulder, resting your cheek against him and looking at baby Lily asleep.

“Hi,” he greeted back, and you could feel the heat of his eyes on the side of your face as you stroked her cheek, your nose scrunching up in a managed reaction to her cuteness when she stirred. Gosh, she was too cute. Elias must have been thinking the same thing, because just as you thought those words, he was talking, “She’s so cute.”

You breathed a quiet laugh, “Of course she’s cute, look at her parents.”

“Quinn isn’t cute.” He teased, throwing his head back and winking at his friend with humour, before turning back to you, “Baby cuddles?”

You shook your head, “I had baby cuddles upstairs.” You rubbed his arm, “I think we need to go–”

“Already? We just got here.” Elias protested, pulling his mouth downwards much to your amusement.

“I know, but they’re tired. It’s only been four days, they need some time to themselves without having to wait on other people.”

It didn’t come as much of a shock when the first thing he said after shutting the door behind him was “I think we should talk when we get back”.

***

You hope the blonde stays forever, and with Elias’s Swedish genes and being very blonde himself, you had a feeling that was going to be the case, because Hanna’s almost white hair peeking out from under her pink bucket hat, still a little damp from the seawater, was just too adorable to cope with.

She was every bit Elias’s twin, and it was so hilariously obvious when they were sitting side by side, Hanna in her high chair and Elias with one arm draped over the back of it, conversing with her unintelligible baby babble with a sweet grin on his face only ever reserved for her. She had his deep blue eyes and an adorably infectious giggle, even as he playfully swiped suncream across her face.

“It’s such a lovely day–”

“Sea!” Hanna yelped, a chubby arm almost smacking Elias in the face as she pointed to the blue sparkling water over the decking of the restaurant, the word startling both you and Elias into a dumbfounded silence.

You swallowed, sharing a look with him, and a smile broke onto your face at the way he seemed so utterly speechless; his mouth was parted slightly, and his eyes were wide and before he could regain his senses, you leant across the table, successfully garnering Hanna’s attention from where her arm was still outstretched and her eyes were fixed on Elias.

“Baby, can you say that again for us?” You asked, heart melting when she blinked and reached to grab a small chunk of cut up apple from her bowl.

Elias seemed to snap out of his shock because he pointed to the water over his shoulder, “Sea.”

Hanna stuffed the piece of apple into her mouth, head swivelling back and forth between you and Elias with an adorable blend of confusion and curiosity, seemingly refusing to say anything else after a heavy pause filled with a kind of excited anticipation, the both of you wanting nothing more than for her to repeat what she just said.

You’d had these heart-stopping moments on a few occasions now, where Hanna would say something that sounded like a word and point to something that could be related to what she’d said, but she’d yet to repeat it. 

Technically, her first word was ‘woof’, though arguably it wasn’t really much of a word, but she had been pointing to a dog at the time, which kind of made you think that she had some level of understanding about what was being said around her, but…it could be a fluke.

Elias groaned jokingly, ducking his head down only to be attacked by a little palm patting the top of his cap, before looking back up at you, a slightly bewildered look on his face. 

It was nice to see him unwind after the chaos of the end of the Canucks’ season; Stanley Cup winners the year before meant that the expectation of possibly winning again this year was pretty high, mostly for Quinn (as much as he tried to deny it), but you could also tell it had taken its toll on Elias, too. It was mainly the questions from reporters repeatedly asking them what they were gonna do to help maintain their win streaks, and answering the same questions paired with unsolicited criticism from fans and almost every other person in the conference rooms that was so exhausting.

They hadn’t won this year, much to everyone’s dismay, but they’d held on until the seventh game of the third round of the play-offs.

Needless to say, a break to Sweden to see his family was definitely a good choice if the constant grinning was anything to go by. 

“What is it?” Elias asked, a knowing glint in his eye as he adjusted the hat on Hanna’s head.

You hadn’t even realised you’d been staring, but there wasn’t a single part of you that felt embarrassed by having been caught in the act: you’d known each other for so long now that things like getting caught admiring each other was an honest blessing. He knew why you were staring, you knew why you were staring; it was hard not to stare most of the time when Elias always looked so good, but there was something about the way he seemed to radiate pure joy when he was around Hanna (and you – but that went without saying) that always seemed to captivate your whole attention.

Moments like that were worth the difficult goodbyes and the time apart and the rough nights.

You just shook your head, resting your cheek on your fist, “Nothing.”

There was an unreadable expression on his face, but the slight squint of his eyes told you everything you needed to know, before you were sighing, eyes zipping to Hanna, because whilst you weren’t bothered about getting caught staring, it didn’t mean you don’t still get nervous when he divided his entire attention to you, “You look really happy right now.” Was what you settled for.

He softened, a smile melting onto his face as he moved one of his hands to the middle of the table to take yours so he could place a delicate kiss on the inside of your wrist, “I am.”

[ofpd]

yes i would love an exr fic rec list ‼️

ok then here are some of my faves & why i like them! putting them in alphabetical order so i don't overthink the order lol

Beautiful & Good by @riotstarruika

possibly the only canon era fic i've read about enjolras and grantaire in a healthy & functional relationship—something that has to be earned in order to be realistic, and this fic earns very well. it explores both characters so interestingly and thoroughly and overall is so lovely to read.

epiphany by Abidatchery

i really love the specific ways in which they fail or refuse to communicate here, but slowly grow to see each other a bit better when forced to by circumstance. this fic also has such a distinct atmosphere that it's both about les amis & all of paris having a wild time, while it slowly focuses more on enjolras and grantaire as they start to be more in their own world with just each other.

Eyes to Serve, Hands to Learn by @myrmidryad

94k words about enjolras and grantaire doing bdsm in really interesting ways & developing their relationship! this fic is what really got me obsessed with exr bdsm & developed my thoughts about it a lot. also i like to refer to it as "enjolras is hot au" bc well he's so much hotter than the celibate & insane about sex & naturally blond enjolras we know from canon lmao

If Truth Is North by @lesamis

who doesn't love a road trip between two people whose thinking and communication styles are fundamentally deeply incompatible! this fic really gets at enjolras and grantaire's psyches in such interesting, nuanced, and insightful ways; they clash so perfectly but slowly begin to understand each other & help each other grow.

Into the Light by AnarchyLuvver69

ok so enjolras and grantaire only really see each other when they die......so what if they became ghosts & processed everything over the course of decades while watching over france

It's Not the Same Anymore by @shamedumpster

i love how much care this fic puts into all the characters and how it balances being quite heavy at times with being heartwarming and loving throughout. also despite its length i've read it over the course of just a couple days multiple times lmao

On the Path to Elysium by @thevagueambition

grantaire characterization of all time to me! he's so assholeish at times and depressed and dysfunctional but clearly deeply caring, especially towards his friends. also an impressively-researched exploration of canon era queerness and all the different ways that les amis relate to it.

Stages Of Light by fallingvoices

the thing about this fic is that it's crazyyy it has the kind of lack of communication between them that i love and the vibes are so off-putting in such a good way and overall well i just really love when authors are brave enough to make them really not work well together except maybe when it comes to sex

You never have to wonder; you never have to ask. by gamesformay

a fic about les amis surviving a modern au version of their failed rebellion and having to figure out what comes next, and enjolras and grantaire having to figure out what their relationship is after having thought for a moment they were going to die together. some really amazing vibes that give the impression that you're reading about a group of friends with real history together and catching a snippet of their lives in paris.

this is just a few of the fics i've really enjoyed; you can check out my bookmarks for more if you'd like!

[cliophilyra]

Fuck It Friday

Tagged by @inawickedlittletown and @bidisasterevankinard - thanks guys! ❤️

New excerpt from Next Thing You Know (the Salbucktommy mpreg wip) - I’m skipping around a bit, which is different for me. I usually feel like I need to stick to writing in order but I’m gonna give this a go!

He's been feeling like ratshit for three days now and it's not getting better. In fact it's getting worse. It hasn't been bad enough to call in before today, just a faint pervading sense of not-rightness, but this morning it's definitely worse. The world feels tinged green with nausea and dizziness.

He sits at the kitchen counter with his head in his hands and breathes deeply, fighting off the swimming in his head and the rolling of his stomach and resolutely not thinking about his conversation with Hen.

"You ok baby?" Tommy's cool warm hand touches his shoulder, rubbing softly as he leans down and kisses his hair.

Buck nods slowly, not wanting to open his mouth. "Mmmhm." Tommy puts a hand to the side of his face and turns his head gently. Buck looks up into concerned blue eyes.

"You don't look it," Tommy says, sliding his hand into Buck's curls, feeling his forehead carefully.

"M'fine," Buck protests, fighting to ignore the way Tommy's hand on his head makes him want to push into his touch, close his eyes and curl up to fall asleep. He needs to be ok. He needs to push this down and suck it up and feel better because he cannot even consider the possibility that…He pushes off the counter with both hands and stands up, gathering his strength. "It's ok, I gotta go—" he suddenly feels as if everything in his head shifts sideways and the next second he finds himself in Tommy's arms, leaning heavily against his chest.

"Woah ok—sweetheart you are not well," Tommy says, gripping his biceps to hold him steady as he looks into his eyes. "I'm gonna call Bobby, ok?"

Buck really wants to protest but a horrible metallic twinge in the back of his throat tells him this is suddenly not the time to argue. Instead he claps a hand over his mouth and dashes for the bathroom.

Other snippets - 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

Tagging: @rdng1230 @nine-one-wanton @bangpop91 @littlepaws9 @bucksbignaturals @a-mel0n

@fuselsstuff @loulou-land @jamieroyjamieroy @racerchix21 @loucifersbitch @mrhappyjavaman and anyone else who wants to play!

[holylulusworld]

Ari & Leo (Sleepless Nights snippet)

Summary: It’s another sleepless night.

Pairing: Alpha!Ari Levinson x Omega!Reader x Leo 😉

Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, fluff, cuddling, daddy Ari

A/N: This drabble is part of my Leo & Alpha verse. It’s the third snippet of their story.

“Shush, Leo. No!” Ari groans as the huge dog tries to get back on the bed. He grabs his collar and fights with the dog. It’s no use. Leo is too strong and heavy. “I said no! They are asleep and wake if you…”

It’s too late. Leo jumps onto the bed to check on your newborn babies. Ari Jr. and Leonie just fell asleep, and he wants to make sure you and your children are safe. The huge dog sniffs at your babies, purrs, and curls around them to protect them.

“Leo, we talked about this. That’s my job,” your alpha sighs deeply. Before your babies were born, he ordered a huge bed. It’s now big enough for you, him, and the pups plus your dog. “Not cool, Leo.”

Leo doesn’t move an inch. Not when Ari pokes his back, nor when your alpha scolds him again. “Fine, have it your way.” He’s too tired to argue with your dog or fight the furry beast.

Your alpha took care of your babies the whole night to give you a few hours of sleep. He fed your babies, changed the diapers, and walked around the bedroom, holding them in his arms to help your babies fall asleep.

Ari climbs onto the bed to lie behind you. He wraps his arms around your body, hoping he won’t wake you. You immediately wiggle in your sleep to press your body closer to Ari.

“I dare you to wake them, Leo,” he snarls in your dog’s direction. “We will talk about this in the morning. After I had my coffee and a snack. And with a snack I mean I’ll eat your mommy’s pussy.”

Leo lifts his head to look in Ari’s direction. “Yeah, you heard right. I’ll eat her and maybe I’ll put another baby in her womb. She’s my wife and omega. Live with it, furry beast!”

“Ari,” you mumble in your sleep. “Alpha…”

“I’m here, Y/N. You’re safe with me,” he whispers in your ear. “Only your dog is an asshole. He won’t let me sleep next to our babies. We will discuss his punishment in the morning!”

“Ari, you look tired. I told you to let me take care of them tonight,” you offer a cup to your alpha. “Did they let you sleep for a while?”

The babies were little angels,” he wrinkles his nose as Leo walks into the kitchen to lie next to your feet, “your dog not so much. He wouldn’t let me lie next to our babies. The furry beast gets cocky!”

“Aw, he tried to protect the babies,” you coo and kneel next to your dog. Ruffling his thick fur, you smile. “You’re a good boy, Leo. Mommy loves you.”

“He needs to learn his place. The dog cannot disrespect me, and my position in this pack. I’m the pack leader, he’s the dog.”

“You bought him to protect me,” you grin at Ari. “Leo does a good job. But, if you want me to, I’ll tell him to sleep at the foot of the bed.”

Ari pouts. Your 6ft high and beefy alpha pouts, make your heart melt. “You like him more than me.”

You step toward your alpha to put your hand on his chest. “Alpha, baby. I only love you. You’re the most important man in my life. Except for our baby boy,” you whisper. “Let me handle Leo. He’ll understand that you are the alpha of our pack.”

“Leo, come here,” you pat the foot of the bed. “Look at my big boy protecting me and our babies.” You coo as your dog lies on the foot of the bed. “Good boy.”

Ari lies on the bed and runs his hand over his son’s head. He smiles as you make sure that Leo stays on the foot of the bed. “You should get some sleep, Y/N. The little ones are asleep.”

You sigh. Leo longingly looks at the babies, whining as he wants to be closer to your children and you. “Fine, he can get a little closer.” Ari hates watching your dog whine. He won’t admit it, but he loves the dog too.

Leo slowly crawls toward the babies. He looks at them before lying to their feet.

“You’ve got a weak spot for Leo,” you reach out for your alpha to squeeze his hand. “I love you, Ari.”

“I love you too,” he looks at his babies lie in the middle of your nest, “and the wonders you gave to me.”

Tags in reblog.

[moonlight-prose]

wip wednesday!

i don't think anyone tagged me in this last week (but if you did then thank you). i also just really like dropping little snippets here each wednesday so here's a big one for the one, the only, eddie alden fic.

this fic has consumed me entirely and well i've got a surprise that goes with it but that's for a different time.

hopelessly devoted to you

Trailing to the kitchen with you hot on his heels, he rummaged in the take out drawer full of old menus that needed replacements eventually. Pages were stained, ripped, and crumpled from years of use. You snatched the only pizza place one out of his grasp, eyes flicking through the selections with a grin. Predictable. He could have ordered blindly for you if he'd have known your tastes were the same.

"Lemme guess–"

"Pepperoni–" you began.

"With sausage and jalapenos," he finished.

"Fuck off Eddie."

He smiled, confident enough to have your mind falter on anything except the man before you. How did he do that? Render you a bumbling fool who could barely put the correct words in order to form a complete sentence. One day you might have to ask if that was just his Eddie charm, or if it only worked on you in particular.

"I would. But it's my place kitten." Dialing the number he knew by heart, he left you to wander spots in the apartment that hadn't been on his grand tour.

A corner table held a photo of Eddie's mother, his father nowhere to be seen in the background. You didn't blame him for avoiding the man entirely. After what occurred you were surprised that Eddie hadn't killed him; although he once came close at nineteen.

The night his mother spilled the truth over one too many glasses of sherry; the night Eddie figured out the man he once looked up to had a different family in an entirely different state.

If you trailed your fingers down the back of his neck you'd find the spot his father had slammed him into the banister of their front staircase. The fight bordered on brutal. A viscous act that left what relationship remained tattered and torn to shreds on the floor around them. Both men landed hits with no true aim, teeth bared and seeking blood through the red haze of their anger.

Eddie wanted revenge. His father wanted submission.

They'd always stood on thin ice ready to crack beneath the weight of their baggage. A horrendous cycle of push and pull—each one aware of how to tear the other down with ease. Their bond was built on torment. And to watch the tension explode, drowning them both beneath the glacial waters, left you stuck in a dark chasm of helplessness.

Stupidly you got a scar to match when you threw yourself in front of a near unconscious Eddie, attempting to stop the man from landing a final punch to his son's face. He hit you instead. The scar on your shoulder was small, barely there, but you could still feel Eddie's lips on it when he cleaned the wound. Apologies spilling from his lips until he fell asleep in your bed.

But you supposed that was Eddie. A protector above all else.

The man who would throw himself into the heat of battle before considering the consequences that came with a choice that reckless.

"They'll be here in twenty minutes." He crept up behind you, glancing at the photo of him on his Mom's birthday. "Thinking about that night?"

You jumped, glancing at him over your shoulder. "Yeah."

He nodded. "Hard not to."

"Has he ever..."

"No." The darkened shadow across his face gave you enough of a response. It was time to move onto a different subject.

"So..." You settled on his couch with a heavy sigh. "Your work."

Dragging the throw blanket his mother sewed him over your legs, he clambered onto the empty space beside you. The heater was slowly sputtering to life—radiator giving it all it had to keep the both of you warm. But beside him you felt the heat practically emanate off his body in waves.

What you wouldn't give to curl into his lap and seek it from the source.

"The drama has been exquisite," he stated, draping his arm on the top of the couch behind your head. "You remember me tellin' you about Jane?"

"Goodall?"

"The very one." He settled further into the cushions, legs spread beneath the blanket until he nudged yours. "She and Ray broke up. It's been hell in the office dealing with their confused tension."

"Wait, isn't this the guy who cheated with her?"

He nodded. "Now I'm not saying he's horrible. But you gotta at least break up with the girl before you go with another."

"Ahh you're taking my teachings to heart," you smiled, leaning your head against his arm.

"I have to Kit. Every time I don't I feel like you're gonna pop out and whack me–" Landing a weak hit to his side, he clamped his hand around your wrist, tugging you close with a laugh. "Like that!"

Attempting to free yourself was futile when he outmatched you in strength and speed. Yet you found that you enjoyed being this close to him. Laughing as you once did in the years of your youth. When all that mattered was which movie you were seeing that Friday and what school the team was playing.

Somehow—in the blink of an eye—you were two adults stuck in your own travesties. Forced to forgo the blithe energy of your childhood. You'd jump at the chance to go back; if only to get more time with Eddie. To spend a few more hours in his bedroom watching horror movies that left you both shell shocked and restless.

To cheer him on at every game with the promise of burgers and shakes at the local drive in afterwards. To watch him grow up and move to New York. Only this time...you'd follow him the second he asked.

His eyes softened as your smile slipped from your lips, fingers curling around his fist. Hazel had never been your favorite color until Eddie left. You rarely thought of it when he was home, but as his absence became a reality you could no longer suffer through you began to see the color everywhere. In the trees, in the color of your old blanket you stole off his childhood bed, in the flannel that once belonged to his grandfather.

You found traces of Eddie Alden in every little aspect of your life, except him.

"Kitten," he murmured, a fraction closer than he'd been a minute ago. His eyes dropped to the curve of your lips, how they parted so sweetly at the sound of your pet name.

"Eddie..."

All that remained was the space between your heads—your body practically leaning into him the longer you talked. He could lean in and kiss you. He could finally learn what you tasted like, figure out how you'd sound if his tongue licked along yours. Fuck he'd never wanted something more.

 The dazed glint in your eyes made his heart twist, his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip. Your gaze fixed on the movement immediately and Eddie felt his cock twitch in interest. One day he'd explain to you how fucking beautiful you were; how his mind went haywire at the sight of your smile. How he'd destroy himself to get you to look at him like he hung the moon and stars.

One day he'd spill his deepest darkest secrets to you.

Starting with three little words that kept him up at night tossing and turning.

He swallowed thickly. "I..."

The door buzzed loud enough to scare the shit out of you. Leaping back, you felt the breath catch in your throat painfully and like an idiot you began to cough. Eddie's eyes went wide, his hand tapping your back as you waved him off to get the pizza. Leaving you to sit there on his couch and choke...on air.

Dumbass.

"Thanks man," Eddie muttered, handing off what cash he had left in his wallet. "Keep the change."

He rushed back to the couch, pizza in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "Kit, you okay? Here drink this before you die on my fuckin' couch."

"Shut up Eddie," you snipped, eyes burning with a glare. Though the smile on your lips told him something else. "Hand over the pizza before it's you dying."

"Yes ma'am," he muttered, flipping open the box and swiping the remote off the coffee table. Taking his spot by your side back with a grin.

tagging whoever wants to do it!

[bisexualbrainrots]

Okay so I didn't expect to be so inspired by this post (plus my tags), but hey, what a hiatus does to someone right? @unfuckablebogtroll thanks for the inspo!

So, here's a snippet of whatever this will be (haven't finished outlining the whole story yet) also I know nothing about how social workers work in the us, so i just did a lot of google searches to write this, let's suspend our disbelief lmao:

“I’m here to inform you that from now on your son, Scott Howards, is going to be legally put under your care and will be moved into your residency, we have made an extensive background check…”

Buck wasn’t really paying attention anymore, two words running through his mind.

Your son.

Your son. 

“What do you mean son?” he had just interrupted the social worker and yet, she didn’t seem so taken aback by his clear state of shock.

“We tried to contact you these past few days, didn’t you receive our calls and email?” 

That made him immediately go back and look for his phone, quickly checking everything as he went back to the front door.

Three missed calls and an email sent yesterday. They weren’t wrong, but why did it feel like they were?

“Okay… but I don’t know anything about a kid, wh-who is the mother and why am I supposed to keep him now?” 

Tara explained it all, as quickly as she could, while still keeping a soothing tone in her voice. She clearly had experience in working with situations like this one, or at least some similar, based on how calmly she explained that the mother, some woman named Jessica Howards, passed away a couple of weeks ago and that there was no immediate family that could take care of Scott. The grandparents had passed away two years ago and Jessica didn’t have any siblings that could take care of the kid, so the next (or first really) on the list had to be the biological father.

Evan Buckley was a mess. Nothing in his brain was really computing, not even when the social worker told him about the boy, a six and a half year old kid who despite being named Scott, everyone just called Scotty.

“I-I…” 

“I’m sorry but, how did you find Evan? And where exactly is the kid now?” Tommy had taken the lead, something he knew by now to do whenever Buck’s brain was being useless. He held his hand, rubbing his thumb against some of the knuckles in an effort of grounding Buck, which worked slowly.

“We found a letter in her belongings, it was apparently never sent but dated back to 2018, probably around the time Jessica found out she was pregnant. We also had to do some digging based on the information and found his social media which, well, led us to this moment” she sounded exhausted, it probably took them a lot of hours to even find who Evan was, it was something Tommy could respect, that level of dedication. “And Scotty… he’s actually here, I brought him in the car, you don’t have to worry about much since he had a nap today and we explained all of this to him as best as we could. He also has his own blanket and favorite toy with him, it’s been really helpful to calm him down”

Tara mentioned the documents she had in hand and that seemed to snap something in the couple’s heads. They’d been so shocked at the news they didn’t notice the bundle of papers she carried. Tara once again explained everything thoroughly, that those were all the legalities Buck had to sign in order to be granted guardianship of Scotty, and asked if they could get inside to sign papers and let the boy inside the house.

Tommy nodded and took the lead again, telling Buck to get inside with Tara while he would check on the kid. Tara agreed, stepping inside with Buck who guided her towards the dining table, while Tommy stepped into the social worker’s car.

[the-californicationist]

WIP Game

Thanks for the tag @ethereal-night-fairy

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how nondescript or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet and tell us about it!

I have taken a big step back lately because of my work, but I do have some things I'm slowly putting paragraphs into.

Long Fics in Progress

Ursa Major - Bear!Price x Female Reader - John Price is a hot, lumberjack werebear. This is the most self-indulgent fic I've ever written, and I will not apologize. Updates are weekly, for the most part.

The Sin Eater - Monster!Price x Female Reader - A dark, monster fic based off of the Jekyll and Hyde paradigm. Co-authored with amazing @vampirekilmerfic, but updates are extremely slow. It's a hard fic for me to write.

The Window - Poly!141 x Female Reader - Pregnancy fic with a poly/reverse harem theme. This should've stayed a one-shot, honestly. I don't know what the heck I'm doing with this.

The Fox & The Hound - PornStar!Soap x Female Reader - I love this fic so much. I should just stop, but I can't let it go. For some reason, this story just lives in my heart rent-free.

My Brother's Keeper - Regency!Price x Female Reader - Unpublished arranged marriage childhood friends-to-lovers dual virginity fic with a huge twist. It'll probably come out midsummer? I think.

Doubt Thou the Stars - Space!Price x Alien!Female OC - Unpublished space fic where John Price is basically Malcolm Reynolds from Firefly. Self-indulgent and weird. I might never publish it because it's so odd.

The Cube - Ghost x Female Reader - We don't talk about The Cube. But, it's there... lurking.

One-Shots in Progress

Down the Hatch - Gaz x Female Reader - Gaz convinces you to fuck him inside a tank.

Pas de Deux - Ghost x Ballerina!Female Reader - Inspired by an ask, but a bit of a divergence from the original request. Ghost falls for Gaz's sister as she performs as Odette in Swan Lake.

Against Medical Advice - Price x Female Reader - Inspired by an ask where Price gets shot in the thigh and ends up convincing you, his medic, to get nasty with him anyways.

A Knight's Errand - Medieval!141 x Female Reader - In order to avoid a dangerous foreign king from being eligible to marry their queen, her knights work hard to ensure that she is with-child, securing her position on the throne. (I think this fic already exists? I don't remember the name of it, though. But, that's why it's unpublished. Maybe it's a two-cakes situation, but I don't want to publish it and have it be so similar that it repeats their original idea.)

I hope some of these are interesting to y'all! Feel free to ask me about them if you have questions.

No pressure tags: @vampirekilmerfic @gemmahale @kit-williams @deadbranch @ceilidho