#like there’s just nothing and i’m so beyond disappointed

[koji-haru]

Preoccupations

[Merry Christmas @inubaki!! I hope you'll like your gift!! ❤️]

The design they had for the first human had always been beautiful; smooth, perfect skin blessed by the richness of the sun, warm, brown messy locks that looked temptingly soft to the touch, beautifully long and tall. But as soon as the first human took his first breath and saw the world for the first time through eyes of pure gold, more precious than any treasure in the universe, Lucifer knew then that his heart yearned for this perfect being. Everything about this human was simply perfect. The way his eyes were wide with pure innocence and wonder, ever so curious of the new life that surrounded him. How his smile was so sweet Lucifer could feel the rush within his being. And when he finally spoke? A voice more heavenly than all of Heaven’s choir combined. Yes, the first human was perfect as if made only for Lucifer, and Lucifer made for him. 

“Welcome to the garden of Eden, Adam the first man,” greeted Sera.

Adam. Even his name sounded like music to Lucifer’s ears, the perfect melody to his lyrics. And when their eyes met, rosy reds and silken gold, it was as if time had stopped and nothing existed in the universe besides the two of them. Then he could feel his heart beat, his blood in a frenzied rush all over his system, and slowly the sounds of the birds chattering in the background, the whispers amongst the other angels, the whistling of the tall grasses all returned just as time returned to its normal flow. Back to the way things were, except somehow, the world seemed to glow even more beautifully whenever his eyes laid upon the sun.

—-

Another day, another search for a particularly evasive angel. At least the garden was beautiful; the twinkling songs of the gentle streams, the way the clear waters glistened under the golden sun, the warm breeze that flew refreshingly through his robes. Without a doubt, the place truly was paradise. So despite having to do such a menial and unnecessary task that really had nothing to do with him, Michael didn’t mind it so much. If anything, it was a good break from his daily routines. He was starting to suspect that Lucifer was doing these ‘hide and seek’ from Heaven just so he could force Michael to ‘go out and smell the flowers’ whatever that meant. He always went out, every single day he had to do a full patrol of the garden to ensure its safety and sometimes, even venture out to the world beyond the garden. Really, he felt that there was no–

Oomph! Caught off guard, Michael fell unceremoniously into the stream as something launched itself towards him, its arms wrapped tightly around him in an excited embrace. Looking up, he was met with the purest of smiles, eyes shining brighter than Eden’s sun.

“Luci! You’re–!” 

The smile on Adam’s face dropped and was immediately replaced with furrowed brows, slightly down turned lips and a slight tilt of the head as he sat up and pulled away from Michael. 

“You’re not Luci,” said Adam, a tinge of disappointment evident in his voice. 

“No, I’m not,” Michael confirmed, sitting up slightly. “I’m Michael.”

“Are you an angel too?” asked Adam as he eyed the six blue white wings sprawled out and drenched in the stream. “Lucifer has six of those too, except his are red and white.”

A small smile slowly began to adorn Michael’s face at the adorable sight in front of him. “Yes, I’m an angel too. Actually, I’m Lucifer’s brother.”

“Brother? What’s that?” Adam cocked his head to the side, the word new and unfamiliar to him. “Can I have one too?”

“It’s when, hmm…” Michael took a pause to carefully think of his answer. Did siblings work the same with humans? “Lucifer and I are brothers because we came from the same star. Similar to how wolves are brothers, or sisters, because they come from the same mother. And I can’t just give you one, Heaven will have to decide on that.”

“Oh,” was Adam’s short response as mulled over the new information he had just learned, trying to make sense of it. 

Then a set of curious eyes travelled from Michael’s wings towards his face as Adam leaned closer down, a feather light finger tracing the little gold stars that travelled across Michael’s cheeks down to a cheek, where he poked at it as if something was amiss. 

“Um…” Michael stilled on the spot, unaccustomed to such intimate contact.

“Then how come you have these on your face instead of the red ones that Luci has?” asked Adam as he poked at Michael’s cheek repeatedly. “The animals here look similar to their brothers and sisters.”

“Well, first please get off of me.”

The short distance between them accompanied by the fact that Adam was sitting on top of him was sending odd, messy signals into Michael’s brain, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. It was unnerving to him how he didn’t mind at all this new, unfamiliar sensation. And so, with nervous, hesitant hands, he pulled Adam’s off of his face with one hand and used the other to gently push the human away from him so he could sit up. But just as he was about to finally sit up, the weight on him suddenly disappeared as a swift flurry of red and white  rushed past him, scooping Adam up and away. 

A gasp followed by soft giggles of, “Luci!” told Michael that Adam was fine and who the sudden visitor was. To his right was his brother, both arms tightly wrapped around the human, all six wings flared out and spread wide, a possessive lour sent his way which would swiftly turn into a melting gaze as soon as he laid eyes on Adam. 

Odd. Lucifer had never acted that way towards Michael before, all so defensively territorial. It wasn’t like he was any danger to Adam at all. Though, he did feel a pang of…something when he saw Adam sweetly laughing, so happy to be carefully wrapped by his brother’s embrace. The weight and warmth that was on top of him moments ago now suddenly felt like some sort of lost treasure, the pleasant presence far too distant for his current liking. It was all rather disconcerting to him, all these sudden influx of feelings. But then again, Adam’s skin against his felt rather…nice. Michael looked down at his hand, the sensation from earlier a ghostly kiss that he craved more of.

—-

“It’s a little unfair, don’t you think?” grumbled Lucifer as he sat close to Adam, trying to not-so-subtly disrupt the human’s work. 

“I told you before, Luci, your hair’s too short,” Adam tried to reason as he pushed away Lucifer’s meddling hand from the braids he was doing on Michael’s hair. 

On the other end, Michael was in bliss. He couldn’t visit the garden as often as Lucifer did, but whenever he did, Adam always showered him with affection. And while he hated the fact that Lucifer got to spend more time with Adam overall, it seemed that being busy and playing the exhausted card got him special treatment sometimes. In a way, it was almost worth it. Almost. If only his brother would stop trying to disrupt the precious time he did get to have with his human.

It took a while, a lot of wing pulling, setting one another on fire, and some discussion leading to a begrudging compromise before the two brothers could finally accept that they couldn’t keep the other from their beloved human. And as much as both of them would rather have Adam all to themselves, at the very least it was only the two of them who frequented the garden. Any other angel who dared showed interest in the garden was either suddenly given a new role or duty by Michael, where sometimes they ‘take too long’ to complete their new duties; or simply scared away by Lucifer, never to be seen again. 

Lucifer managed to slip hand between Adam’s hands and grabbed onto a golden lock of Michael’s hair, harshly pulling on it. 

“Ow!” cried out Michael, one hand reaching out to stop Lucifer’s petty assault. “Let go!” “No!” Lucifer adamantly refused. They had spent most of the day with Michael being so snug to Adam, with Lucifer feeling like some sort of third party. He should be one snuggling so comfortably on Adam’s lap! Not Michael, but him! He was first after all!

“Lucifer, don’t be mean!” Adam tried to calm the angry angel, but soon resorted to gently cupping Lucifer’s face when words didn’t seem enough. His soft golden eyes looking directly at Lucifer’s own quickly calmed down the fire in the small angel’s eyes.  “Calm down, okay?”

A huff and pout. No matter how annoyed he got, Lucifer could never truly say no to his human. But that didn’t mean he was going to give up and end up empty handed. So, he did as Adam asked and let go of Michael's hair and instead took hold of Adam’s face, pulling the human into a soft, chaste kiss. A little compensation for having been disregarded. 

The lovely red that quickly blossomed on Adam’s cheeks was worth the icy glare that he felt piercing through his body from Michael. He was sure things were going to end up difficult for him once he returned home to Heaven, but that was definitely worth the price for Adam’s first kiss. 

—-

Adam sat quietly by the river, kicking little splashes of water everywhere as he tried hard to keep his spirits up. All he needed was patience. Surely Karael would arrive soon. Though, he had been waiting for a long time now. Adam and his new angel friend were supposed to meet by the river just before the sun reaches its highest point in the sky, and yet, the sun had already begun its journey down towards the horizon and still, Karael could not be found. The angel seemed so excited as well to spend time with him. Maybe Adam had gone to the wrong place again? 

“Adam?” 

A familiar voice called out to him, and when he turned, he was greeted with a familiar kind face, speckled with little gold stars. One of the few friends he had that actually remained.

“Hi Michael…” Adam waved a little sadly at the angel, his shoulders drooped down with increasing disappointment. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Michael as he sat close to Adam, one hand wrapped around the human’s shoulder, pulling him close. 

A disheartened sigh escaped Adam’s lips, “Karael hasn’t showed up yet. She promised to show me something today…”

This always happened. Whenever he made new friends, they would always suddenly leave him without another word, gone forever without a trace. They wouldn’t even say goodbye. Adam felt the tears prickle his eyes as he lost more and more hope in meeting his new friend. He didn’t understand why almost everyone seemed to just disappear on him. Had he done something wrong? Both Michael and Lucifer always reassured him that he never did anything wrong, but that only left him more confused. Did the other angels just not like him? 

“Maybe she’ll arrive soon enough,” Michael tried to reassure despite knowing full well that that wasn’t the case. No other angel was allowed to get their unworthy hands on their precious human. 

“I don’t know…” Adam quietly admitted. 

“Adaaaam!”

Suddenly a pair of arms covered in loose robes enveloped itself around Adam’s shoulders just as a pale face with rosy red cheeks popped up brightly to the human’s left side. 

“How’s my cute duckie doing?” Lucifer asked as he rubbed his cheek against Adam’s.

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael the residual golden stains on Lucifer’s robes. How sloppy. As adorable as Adam’s curious nature was, there was no need for him to see and question the odd splash of gold on Lucifer’s robes. And so, with a silent snap of his fingers, he burned away the damning evidence that clung onto his brother.

“Much better now,” answered Adam, a little smile beginning to form on his lips. 

“Much better now? Why? What happened?” 

“Karael hasn’t showed up yet,” Michael said with a shrug.

Lucifer slid down from Adam’s shoulder until he was lazily draped over the human’s lap. “Ah, who cares about her anyway? It’s her loss! You’re too good for her.”

“I agree,” Michael added with a nod as he snuggled even closer towards Adam. “She doesn’t deserve you.”

A blossom of red began to stain Adam’s cheeks at the words from both brothers as a fuzzy fluttering had once again started to go wild from his stomach as if pink butterflies were about to burst out of him. He wasn’t sure why, but it always happened whenever either Lucifer or Michael were close to him, like right now. It was an odd feeling, somewhat akin to nervousness, but better and much more pleasant. Either way, the day might not have begun so happily for Adam, but at the very least both Lucifer and Michael were always there to cheer him up and brighten his day. He felt so incredibly lucky to have the two as friends who cared deeply for him. 

The sky was a bright orange and the night was fast approaching as the sun began to sink in the horizon. In the past, Sera would’ve been a little worried about both Lucifer’s and Michael’s prolonged absence from Heaven. However, at this point, she already knew where the two could possibly be. The place where they spent most of their free time: the garden of Eden. 

As usual, Sera was correct in assumption as she stood over the trio sleeping on grass with Adam in the middle wrapped between the two brothers, encased in both of their wings. Sera did find it odd at the start, and honestly, she still did until now. But no matter how much she questioned and tried to reason with the brothers, both remained adamant about staying in the garden. And really, there was only so much she could do. A tired sigh escaped from her. She supposed Adam could use a friend or two, at least until they finished making the first woman. For now, she would leave the odd trio be. There was no harm to it after all. 

—--

It had been quite some time since Lucifer had smelled air that wasn’t stagnant and pungent, one that wasn’t devoid of life and joy. The cool breeze that ran fast through his silken locks had never felt more freeing as he climbed atop a fluffy cloud to sit beside his brother. It felt odd to him, to feel warmth. Warmth, not scorching, burning heat from beyond the deepest depths of the earth. It was a gentle warmth, a tender kiss from the sun so high up in the sky, so close to the place he used to call home. 

“I’m still in disbelief at what you did,” Michael said as he moved a little to make some space beside him, his eyes still glued attentively at the young, new world beneath them.

“Well, what else could I have done?” Lucifer retorted as he took the spot on the cloud offered to him, his eyes also beginning to scan the earth for a certain someone. “Besides, it’s not like you were entirely against it.”

Michael let out a weary sigh, unable to fully deny his brother’s implications. “Couldn’t you have done the same to Eve as I did with Lilith?”

“You do know Eve, right? That woman could not be persuaded to abandon her purpose,” Lucifer scoffed before his shoulders dropped low, weighed down by a sudden gloom, his ruby eyes in pained yearning as he found the person he was looking for.

Beneath the two brothers, far down below from the lofty clouds, was the beginnings of a small village. New humans that Lucifer had never seen before, though each one had an odd air of familiarity to them, whether it was the colour of their skin, the shades of their hair, or the shine in their eyes. Each one of these new, unfamiliar humans had a little piece of their beloved Adam embedded in them, one that Lucifer had been denied of by Heaven. And amongst the slowly growing crowd, was a tall man with skin marred by untold hardships, flesh grown stronger from endless necessary work, lines amongst his face that held stories of the past. But despite all these changes, those eyes remained ever the same: a gold more radiant than the sun, far more precious than any treasure that could ever be found in all of Heaven, Hell or Earth. 

“Why did Adam have to leave the garden too?” sighed Lucifer, his heart breaking at the sight beneath him: his beloved having a life of which he had no part in. Suddenly, a thought popped up in his head. Was it a little sinister? Something an angel should never think of? Perhaps. But Lucifer supposed that didn’t matter to him anymore. He was no longer an angel after all. 

“They’re mortal, right?”

“..yes?” Michael eyed Lucifer suspiciously, though he was willing to hear him out. “Why are you asking?”

“And they no longer have the protection they had in Eden, right?” Lucifer continued.

“Lucifer, I'm not killing Adam just so he could come to either of us quicker,” Michael said resolutely. 

“What? No! Not Adam!” Lucifer refuted absolutely, eyes widened in shock that his brother would even think of that. “I meant Eve! Eve!!”

A contemplative look washed over Michael’s features as he mulled over Lucifer’s suggestion. As an angel, he couldn’t directly intervene with human affairs nor could he communicate with them personally ever since the incident in the garden. Lucifer, however, no longer had obligations to Heaven, though he had been cursed to remain in Hell for the rest of his eternal life. Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t loosen those chains a little once in a while. 

“Hm, Earth is quite a harsh place. Not very safe for fragile, mortal humans,” Michael mused loudly. “An unfortunate accident or a lethal animal attack is bound to happen soon.”

Michael gave Lucifer a calm look redolent of malignant mischief. “I heard some snakes are venomous…and deadly.”

“Really now?” Lucifer queried, his tone in playful high pitches. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind~.”

—-

“Is he dead yet?” Lucifer asked as he lazily laid on the cloud, his head barely on the edge. 

Sitting beside him, was as usual, Michael, his expression impassive and unreadable as he observed the now large and steadily growing human village.

“Unfortunately not.”

Lucifer let out a loud groan, stretching all of his limbs before letting them fall limply to his sides. “Eve died a long time ago, and it’s almost been a millennia since he had left the garden.”

He rolled over so that he was now laying on his stomach, his side flush against Michael, before suddenly sprouting up, voicing his anxiety aloud. 

“Are you sure he’s mortal? He didn’t eat the fruit, what if? Oh, no! What if–!” he gasped dramatically, one hand over his mouth, the other grasping onto Michael as he shook him urgently. “Michael! Go get your sword, we’re taking matters into our own hands!”

“Lucifer calm down,” Michael calmly reassured his brother as he tried to pry Lucifer’s claws off of his arm. Though, after realising that words were not enough to calm his brother down, Michael then opted to simply grab Lucifer’s face and forcefully tilted it down towards a particular spot in the village. 

“Look carefully,” he said, “Do you see Adam?”

With his face squished and held onto place, Lucifer had no choice but to focus his eyes towards the direction he had been turned to. He squinted and squinted, readjusting his eyesight to see more clearly until finally, it landed on a frail figure with ashen hair, sun-kissed skin marked full of a lifetime of adventures, and surrounded by a loving crowd. If it were anyone else, they might have not recognised him, but Lucifer could never ever forget the eyes of the one that stole his heart. No matter how much time had passed, those eyes remained forever the same. Sure, they looked far more hardened than the first time he had seen them, the golden glow in them a little more jaded, but it still belonged to the first man. Their precious Adam. 

Taking Lucifer’s silence as affirmation, Michael let go of his hold on Lucifer, letting him hang in a trance. “Don’t worry, Adam’s not immortal. He’s aging, and I’m sure he’ll be truly home soon. Just give it some time.”

“Ooor we can speed up the process,” Lucifer jokingly suggested, but also was half serious. Surely Adam wouldn’t mind it so much if they freed him from his feeble shell sooner than time would. 

“That would be nice, but no,” Michael shut down Lucifer’s suggestion, knowing fully well that his brother would act on it if he so much as gave a hint of approval. “We’ll play it safe this time. He’ll come to us eventually. He has to.”

—-

Lucifer sat stupefied in the embassy at the sight in front of him, an odd concoction of awe, incredulity and indignation slowly simmering within him. Sitting right across from him was none other than the love of his unending existence, his Adam in all of his golden beauty. It seemed that the afterlife had returned his youthful appearance, one that was strikingly similar to the look he had back in the garden. But that wasn’t what truly captured his full attention. He didn’t know it was possible, and yet the proof sat so casually in front of him. Somehow, his human had become even more beautiful, going beyond perfection. The way the soft golden glow of his halo illuminated his face like a loving caress, those pair of shimmering gold wings so large that they easily reached the ground, those loose white, lilac and gold robes that hid his form so teasingly; just the thought of being the privileged one to unravel it like a gift and see the perfection hidden beneath it sent pleasant shivers down Lucifer’s spine. It had been an eternity since he felt such sublimity, and he had only been close to Adam’s presence. He could only imagine…

Another important matter, however, caught his attention. His human was now an angel, and that meant that his angel now resided in Heaven. That was a problem. Another glaring problem was the fact that his brother, Michael, was very comfortably snuggling against his angel! 

“How long have you been in Heaven?!” Lucifer let out an anguished cry as he stood up, slamming both hands on the long table separating him from the two angels. 

“Hmm, when did I first arrive in Heaven again?” Adam wondered aloud, his chin rested atop of Michael’s soft golden locks. 

“I’d say, maybe, a few months ago?” Michael answered, a curled finger resting against his lips in thought. 

The sound of Adam’s angelic voice would’ve sent Lucifer in catatonia with how velvety sweet it felt in his ears if it weren’t for that fact that he had just found out that Adam had died and gone to Heaven months ago, and he had no knowledge of it the entire time. 

Blood red horns pointing to the sky sprouted from his skull, a raging fire in between them, his spiked tail swishing impatiently behind him as his anger slowly reached its boiling point. The sight of both his Adam and Michael being so close to each other in front of him not helping to calm him down. A void like shadow loomed before him, gradually increasing in both size and intensity the more he leaned forward, directing an aggrieved glare towards his brother. 

“All this time! You had Adam all to yourself?!” shouted Lucifer, the fire between his horns flaring up with every intonation. “How is that fair?!”

On the other hand, Michael seemed unaffected by Lucifer’s display of fiery rage, one hand reaching up to gently pat Adam’s head in reassurance. He knew his brother could be rather emotional, especially when it came to the first man. Other than that, he was harmless, at least to both him and Adam. 

“Adam had to first learn how to be an angel, and setting a meeting with you including Adam took far too long to be approved,” Michael explained.

“Clearly! You were hogging all of Adam’s time!” Lucifer argued, his legs bent and ready to spring towards his target. 

Michael wouldn’t admit it to Lucifer’s face lest he make the aggrieved Devil explode even more in anger, but he did enjoy having most of Adam’s time and attention during those first few months. There were some nuisances he had to get rid of by way of gentle reminders of their positions and capabilities, but it worked out in the end. For the most part, he managed to assign himself as Adam’s teacher and guide in Heaven, with most other angels having learned to keep their distance away. 

“We arranged a meeting as soon as possible,” Michael assured, though it was a little white lie. While Adam had expressed wishes to meet Lucifer as soon as possible, Michael secretly hoped to prolong their shared time together. “Isn’t that right, Adam?”

A faint golden hue dusted Adam’s cheeks once both sets of eyes, one a deep ocean blue, the other passionate ruby red, landed and focused on him with an intensity that sent his heart in panicked beats. He wasn’t sure what he did, but ever since he arrived in Heaven Michael had been attached to him almost everywhere he went. The archangel’s gaze was always an ocean that he found himself lost and drowning in with its intense waves of affection. Despite the months he had spent so closely with Michael, he still hadn’t gotten fully used to it, and now, Lucifer himself was also giving him a similar look. A passion burning wildly in those fiery reds, a hungry heat promising both sweetness and spice. In a way, it was almost predatory, and yet, Adam couldn’t find it within himself to run and escape, instead, he was drawn to it. 

“I– uh,” Adam stammered, those red eyes sending an odd tingly feeling all over his body. He moved his gaze randomly towards the smooth table, a feeble attempt to escape that fervent gaze. “We did try to meet you as soon as possible…”

Adam felt a slight nudge from Michael, encouraging him to go on. “...because I missed you too, Luci.”

Luci. Luci. That nickname hadn’t been uttered in almost a millennia, and just the sound of it being pronounced by none other than his sweet angel sent the flame burning within Lucifer into a raging blaze. The intensity of the flames between his horns burned even brighter, all of his six red-white wings spread out wide in ardent excitement. Then, without another word, Lucifer released the tension that had been building up inside of him all this time and sprung onto Adam, colliding against Michael. The collision hadn’t phased him, however, as he simply shoved his brother out of his way and wrapped his arms tightly around Adam, nestling his head in the space just between Adam’s chin and chest. Oh how he missed his beloved’s scent, that refreshing earthy scent. And that warmth, the coziest he had ever felt, one that told him he was home.

—-

“Michael, what’s the meaning of this?!” Sera demanded, slamming a scroll down onto Michael’s desk as she tried her best to the anger that was starting to spill out of her. 

Slapped onto Michael’s desk was a golden scroll, one used by Heaven for official contracts and deals. Once signed, it was unbreakable lest they face unwanted and unfavourable consequences. This particular binding deal had only been recently signed, the parties involved included Lucifer, Adam, and Michael himself. 

“It was the best solution to keep Hell under control,” Michael coolly answered as he took the scroll into both his hands, one finger swiftly skimming over the details of their deal. 

“It says here that ‘Hell will not attempt any uprising against Heaven and will keep its citizens in check so long as their King, Lucifer, shall have his wishes granted, that is, the presence of the first man, Adam, in Hell for at least half the time of a year,” Michael read the important details of the deal aloud as if to make Sera understand carefully. 

“I know what the scroll says, Michael,” Sera said sternly. “What I’m asking about is the nature of the deal.”

Michael took a quick glance back down on the scroll and then back to Sera, a quizzical look on his face. “I don’t see a problem?” 

An exasperated sigh, bordering on a loud groan, left Sera’s lips as she leaned back, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Lucifer threatening to come crashing on Heaven’s gates was enough stress and trouble for her to handle, and now Michael had gone and made a deal with the Devil without her explicit consent? Yes, she allowed meetings between him, Lucifer and Adam in hopes that those talks would help calm Lucifer down, knowing the deep relations both Adam and Michael had with him. What she hadn’t expected was…this. And worse yet, Michael seemed to find no fault in this? 

“You need to calm down, Sera,” Michael said, leaning back on his chair, the calm air that surrounded him only served to further irritate the high seraphim. “And look at this at a more logical angle.” 

“Calm down? How can I be calm when you’ve simply signed Adam away to the Devil?!” Sera asked in irate disbelief, her wings beginning to flare up in slowly bubbling anger.

“Just for half the year. Like I said, please look at this situation more logically,” Michael explained again. “This deal would ensure peace between Heaven and Hell.”

“But Adam–”

“Will not be harmed by Lucifer, I can assure you that,” Michael cut in. “Adam will be safe. Plus, he was actually very much in agreement with the deal.”

That seemed to have put a sudden halt to Sera’s enraged panic, all of her wings slowly losing their fervor as they began to lower, the furrow of her brows starting to soften as her expression slowly changed into a more composed albeit confused one. 

“What?”

“Adam was very much in favour of the deal. He’s good friends with Lucifer,” Michael repeated and clarified with a soft smile, blue eyes looking kind and stern at the same time, a silent declaration that he had made up his mind and that there was no changing it no matter what. 

At that point, Sera knew then that there was no arguing against Michael. It wasn’t an occurrence that happened a lot, most of the time Michael was rather accommodating to her opinions and thoughts on a variety of matters. However, when it came to matters regarding the first man, then Michael could suddenly become particularly stubborn and a little autocratic. It was something that had been concerning her since the garden, only now did she realise, when it was too late, that his fixation with Adam might run just as deeply as Lucifer’s. And that thought alone sent icy shivers down her spine. Lucifer on his own was trouble enough, having the two of them go rogue would simply spell trouble for Heaven, something Sera would rather avoid. She took another glance at the golden scroll laid flat on the desk, the feeling of defeat weighed heavy on her shoulders. As much as worry clung tightly onto her core, Sera couldn’t recall a time when Michael had brought harm to either Heaven or humanity. Simply put, she just had to trust the archangel to not cross the line just like his brother did.

Without much of a choice, Sera reluctantly accepted the deal that Michael had already made with Lucifer and Hell. There were so many questions swirling in her mind, like how could Adam be so willing to this deal? How was Lucifer good friends with Adam? Hadn’t they been separated for over 900 years? So many questions, and yet, she couldn’t ask any of them in favour of ‘keeping the peace’.

“Well?” Michael asked, his head tilted slightly to the side.

“Please, next time let me know of the details first before you go deciding things on your own,” Sera replied, her tone exhausted and drained beyond measure. 

“Noted.”

—-

Flashes of lights in varying colours danced in the dark red wallpaper of the castle. On the plush black couch, Lucifer sat comfortably on Adam’s lap, snuggling his face in the nook of his angel’s neck, enjoying the mesmerising scent that he had dearly missed. Adam, on the other hand, was focused on watching the movie playing on the wide screen in front of them, one hand occasionally dipping into the popcorn bucket on his side. In the comforting darkness of the living room, the world outside, the burning landscape, the screams of damned sinners hurling violence against one another, felt so separate as if both Adam and Lucifer were separate and away from the chaotic mess that was Hell. 

Then, suddenly, a bright blue light shimmered into the room as a familiar pale figure casually emerged from it, causing Adam to briefly shift his gaze from the tv screen towards their new guest. Lucifer, on the other hand, was unfazed by the portal suddenly opening up in his castle, already used to its almost constant appearance. 

“Oh! Hey Michael!” Adam lazily waved his butter covered hands over, gesturing the archangel to come over and sit by his side as he moved the popcorn bucket away. 

“Hi Adam, what are you watching?” asked Michael as he walked over to his angel’s side, opting to instead shove Lucifer a little to make some more space on Adam’s lap. 

A whiny groan sounded in the room as Lucifer fought against being shoved by Michael, his pointed teeth biting into the hand that was pushing him aside. Michael, however, was unfazed by this ‘act of violence’, a small smile painted on his face as he kept on shoving his brother and made a comfortable enough space for himself on his angel’s lap.

“Ugh, why do you always have to budge in?” Lucifer groaned aloud, clearly peeved about having to share his Adam. 

“Because sharing is caring, dear brother,” Michael answered back. 

“I’m the Devil, I don’t care,” retorted Lucifer, sticking out his tongue childishly as he tried to push Michael away. 

Suddenly, the two brothers were pushed close together as Adam wrapped both arms around them, pulling the both of them even closer to him. 

“Both of you hush,” Adam lightly scolded as he hugged them even tighter, both of their faces now flush against his chest. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”

A victorious smirk formed on Adam’s lips at the silence that answered him, knowing fully well how such intimate actions affected both brothers no matter how much time had passed. He could practically feel the raging heat on both of their faces through his clothes. 

“If you both can promise to behave throughout the rest of the movie,” Adam started, “then I’ll be sure to reward you both handsomely~”

The two seated on his lap perked up noticeably at the notion of being rewarded, both suddenly becoming far more amiable and compliant to one another. Was Adam going to regret having dangled a shiny reward in front of the two? Perhaps. But he had offered rewards multiple times before, his back regretting it the morning after most of the time. Still, that hadn’t and wouldn’t ever stop him from offering some more. Good boys deserved to be rewarded after all.

[lorelaiislatte]

cool great to know our shortened suddenly-final season not only was missing a principle character for about a third of it but also wasted over half of the season focusing on a guy from a different branch of the franchise that nobody asked for and who has genuinely done nothing but detract from the characters we were all actually there for

[marxism-lelouchism]

time to read this article by the author of ornamentalism surely this will be fine

erm. the end of the pandemic? in march 2022? right after the biggest spike in cases in the us in january 2022? ok.

nonblack asian americans stop “borrowing” from afro-pessimism and keep it out of our mouths challenge (IMPOSSIBLE)

[backtodecembertv]

i’m like “i’m so alone :(” as if i didn’t have multiple friends look out for me last night and didn’t go out for food with some of them afterward and then get a ride home at 2 am. what i mean is that i don’t have some guy to flirt with all the time. which i need to get used to because obviously i have a habit of sticking with the worst men in the world just to avoid being “alone”

[allbark-no-bite]

good boy.

art donaldson x reader (wc: 2.9k)

summary: as Art’s personal physical therapist, it’s your job to fix what Tashi has torn apart, by whatever means necessary. or in which Art just needs some TLC

warnings: 18+ smut, it could be worse tbh, mentions of disordered eating

author’s note: i’m back ig?? im out of uni for the summer and challengers has me in a chokehold. Art Donaldson the man that you are

————————————————————————

You're standing just within earshot of the doorway, passing a sanitary wipe over one of the tables in the athlete treatment room when you hear the door abruptly open. Tashi storms in with a purpose and Art trails meekly behind her. Even if you had been clueless to how the match had gone rather than on the sidelines beside Tashi not even twenty minutes ago, you could have guessed by the hard line of her mouth that Art was in for it. Not that her displeased scowl was much different from her usual scowl, but you'd been around long enough to know the difference.

She stops abruptly, and Art heels obediently as Tashi turns around to face him. "I need you to tell me when you're going to fucking get it together so that I can stop wasting my time."

Weary and sweat soaked, Art just stares at her with that pitiful look on his face and says nothing in reply. His blue eyes solemnly take in her harsh disappointment as though beyond used to it. At this point it's not all that foreign to you either.

"You may as well be fucking asleep out there," she snaps.

This time his mouth opens. "I- I'm just tired-" he begins, although there's hardly any argue to his voice at all.

"No, I'm tired, Art," Tashi interjects. "Do you have any idea how much fucking work I've put into getting you back onto the court this past year?! I've done everything! The least you could do go out there and try to act like I've done anything for you at all!"

Art swallows, the slight frown on his face deepening. "I am. I just- I don't-"

Before he can even finish his sentence. The open palm of Tashi's hand connects with his cheek as she pops the left side of his face. Art closes his mouth. You pretend to concentrate on wiping down the table. It's not the first time you've witnessed one of these conversations but it still feels private, like you shouldn't be here. You keep wiping the table.

Understanding that anything else he says is only going to make Tashi angrier, Art resigns to once again watching her in silence. His blue eyes are sad. The usually fair skin of his cheek is tinted pink where she popped him. Although it wasn't very hard, you're sure it still hurt him all the same.

"Quit wasting my time," is all she says before she finally turns and leaves, walking right past you and out the other door. You hold your breath as she passes you. Art watches her go but makes no move to follow. You release an audible sigh. It's been a frustrating day for everyone. As Art's personal trainer, physical therapist, and close friend, you felt every loss, every ache and pain, every bad play. And there seemed to be a lot of those lately.

Art is still standing there, watching the closed door that Tashi left though.

Not knowing how to break the silence, you finally pat the freshly sanitized treatment table. "C'mon," you call gently, as though beckoning to a wounded dog.

It takes a moment for him to budge, but eventually he does, his disheartened spirit apparent in the way he walks over. Used to the usual routine, he tugs his damp shirt off over his head as he takes a seat, the lean muscles of his torso flexing as he does so. You allow yourself to ogle at him, only for a brief moment before stepping in between the bracket of his knees. Gently, you cradle his chin, tipping his head back to look up at you as your thumb smooths over the redness of his cheek. His blue eyes blink up at you, sad and dog-like.

"It wasn't terrible," you reassure him. "You had surgery six months ago. You're still getting your feet back underneath you. Most people wouldn't have come back." You're right. The still-pink scars on his shoulder are still fresh on your mind. The stitches weren't even out before Tashi had him in physical therapy. Even though his medical team had released him, it was still a bit early to start doing rehab so soon after surgery, Art's comfort being your biggest concern. But when Tashi wants something, she gets it.

Wordlessly, Art sighs, the weight of his head settling into your palm as he finally lets go of the tension he'd been carrying. It was always like this. You fixing what Tashi had torn apart. You understood where Tashi was coming from. Art needed a firm voice in his training, and you had a lot of respect for the way she put her foot down and never let up, not even once. But there was only so many times you could kick a dog while he was down.

So if Art needed someone to coddle him, you would coddle him.

He trusts you. He needs you, is what Tashi had told you when she asked you to stay on as his trainer full time. The three of you had been in the same year at Stanford all those years ago, Tashi and Art on the tennis team and you helping out as a student trainer as part of a class requirement. Three peas in a pod, the trio of you were. Of course then they both graduated, leaving you to finish up your schooling, meanwhile Art set off to go pro.

A few years later, once Tashi officially took on the position as Art's coach, she began building his team, and that's where you came in. You were hesitant at first.

'I already lost to you once, Tashi. I won't come in second to you again.'

She had paused on the other end of the line. Back in your Stanford days, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were head over heels in love with the blonde tennis player. But loving Art was like accepting the participation ribbon for a game you knew you weren't going to win in the first place. It was like standing next to the podium, just lucky enough to be included in the picture while Tashi and tennis took first and second place. And so you let him go.

'I'm not asking you to. This is different.'

Your hand slips from his face, and he forces his eyes open.

“Have you eaten?" you ask, stepping away in order to put some distance between the two of you and look for the granola bars that you keep especially for him. The gels were good sources of quick fuel in between sets, but they were hardly enough to even begin to make up for the calories he burned while playing.

Slowly, Art shakes his head, but he makes no move to take the snack from your hand when you offer it to him. Ever since his injury, nutrition became all the more important. So much to the point that every single thing that he consumed was mapped out to the exact calorie. Although he would never admit it, any sort of change in this routine made him incredibly anxious. Some days it was better not to cause him the anxiety than to force him.

Today, you insistently hold out the bar until he begrudgingly takes it from your hand. You don't move until you've seen him tear open the package and take a bite.

"Were you still feeling tight?" you ask as you walk around the table, stopping at the slouch of his turned back. You reach out to grasp at the joint of his neck and shoulder, your thumb smoothing over the kinesiology tape that's peeling away at the base of his neck.

He half turns his head to glance back at you. "You watched the match. You tell me."

His response is meant to be snippy, but it comes out more defeated than anything. To be fair, you've been his trainer long enough to know that if something was bothering him physically, you would have picked up on it.

"I want to hear it from you."

"I felt fine."

Your left hand follows suit on the other side of his neck, and you use both of your thumbs to apply pressure to what you assume will be a tense spot along the upper part of his traps. Predictably, Art groans at the attention. The muscles of his back contract as he fights the urge to shake you off. Relaxing the muscle hurts as much as it feels good. Besides his obvious discomfort, the rest of his body has gone lax under your touch. His shoulders have dropped at least an inch, and his chin has fallen to rest against his chest.

"Finish your granola bar," you reprimand him, your firm fingers working across his back until you find another spot that nearly has him jerking away. He releases a whine but obediently takes another bite of the bar. This time he finishes it before you have to remind him again.

You spend a few more minutes torturing him before you're satisfied that a majority of the tension has left his shoulders.

"Okay, good boy," you murmur, leaning forward so that your chest is close enough to brush against his back. One of your hands trails up to squeeze the back of his neck reassuringly.

You're close enough to hear him swallow at the name. The skin on the nape of his neck shivers despite how hot he still is from the match.

"Was I?" he asks timidly. "Good today?"

'I can be his coach. Or I can be the person he cries to after a bad day. But I can't be both. That's why he needs you."

Without removing your hand from his neck, you walk around the table so you're standing in front of him. Art widens the spread of his legs so that you can stand between them. His chin is still pressed to his chest, blue eyes focused on the ground.

"Art," is all you say, shifting your grip on his neck to tug lightly at his golden blonde hair. At your voice, he lifts his head just enough to look up at you through the pale wisps of his eyelashes. The irises of his blue eyes shine are wet with uncertainty.

Your fingers loosen their grip to allow your nails to scratch at his scalp. "You're good, Art. You'll always be good."

Art twists his head to nuzzle his cheek along the inside of  your outstretched arm. His lips kiss the crook of your elbow. He swallows again. "Even if I don't play tennis?"

You can tell the question's been bothering him, eating at his nerves, and messing up his game. You know him well enough to know that retirement isn't what he wants, not really. At least not right now. What he wants is the reassurance that it's going to be okay if he can't swing the comeback.

"Look at me."

He lingers a moment longer with his lips pressed lovingly against your skin before he reluctantly shifts his gaze up to you. His look is anticipatory but reserved, as if to preemptively conceal his disappointment should you choose to crush his heart with your answer.

His fear is understandable. Art's relationship with Tashi has always been entirely built off of his tennis career. By being the driving force behind his success, Tashi has vicariously lived out the life she would have had had her injury never happened. Without tennis, Art has nothing left to offer her. He knows that if he gives up tennis, he loses Tashi.

Your relationship with Art was a little less conditional. Hell, you'd been in love with him since the first time you'd laid eyes on him at Stanford. You can still picture him standing there on the court, barely nineteen, scrawny, nervous smile, backwards cap over his strawberry blonde hair. Before he was the Art Donaldson. But when Tashi had stepped into the picture, you figured that was where your fairytale ended.

"I don't love you because of tennis. I love you because you're kind, and thoughtful, and you're passionate about what you do." You smile a bit before adding, "And you're my good boy."

The name turns him bashful again, and he's quick to turn and hide his smiling face against your arm, only the flushed tips of his ears visible. "[Y/n]," he mumbles, likely meaning to be threatening, but it doesn't come out that way.

Art Donaldson lived to be praised.

You laugh, pulling him closer so that his face is held against your chest. The hand that you don't have threaded through his hair trails up the muscle of his defined quad. "You're my good boy. Aren't you, baby?"

Art whines, squirming when your hand reaches the apex of his thigh and hovers over the forming bugle of his shorts. He's not quite there yet, his dick only half chubbed up in interest, but given the day that he's had, you won't make him wait.

"Please?" he mumbles, his face still buried into your collarbone, as if attempting to curling into you, like a small child needing their parent to hold them for comfort.

You rake your nails lightly up the inside of his thigh. "What, baby?"

Not only did Art liked to be praised, but he was masochist even on his worst days.

"Want you to touch me," he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt. "Please."

Your hand still scratching through his hair, you press a kiss to the side of his head, unable to suppress your smile at his timid politeness and how it never seems to fail him. The only time he ever resembled anything remotely voracious was on the court.

Palm finding his tented shorts, you cup him through the fabric. Art responds immediately to your touch, his hips shifting further into your grasp. You continue to pet him through his shorts, appreciating the way you can feel him actively responding to your touch.

His nails dig into the padding of the treatment table when you give his now fully hard dick a less than sympathetic squeeze. His breath is hot as he pants against your collarbone, alternating between laving open mouthed kisses to your skin and whining when you pause fondling him just to feel his hips rut up into your palm.

Art was so in control on the tennis court, that often after a match, putting the control into someone else's hands was just what he needed.

When his hips start to stutter, you ease up but continue to stroke him through his shorts. The front of his shorts are damp with the musk of residual sweat and precum.

His breath is shallow—anticipatory.

"Gunna come?" you ask softly, speaking into the blonde mess of his hair, cradling him. He right there, you can tell by the lackluster buck of his hips, his building fatigue, and the change in his breathing.

"Can I? —Please?" Art asks breathily. He hiccups out the last part, his voice catching.

"You know you don't have to ask."

There's a brief pause, as if coming to the realization, before he meekly murmurs, "I know.

It should be sad really, his unwavering obedience, but there are two sides to Art, two polar extremes. On the court, every match, every set, every debilitating second is up to him. No one else can help him out there, and up until about a year ago, he played like it. That was the side of Art Donaldson that Tashi wanted. After the match is a different story. In private, Art needed someone to do the thinking for him, to pull him into a reality where he could believe that it didn't matter whether he won or lost. Tashi had not the sympathy nor the patience for that kind of fragility.

Art comes with a brief cry into your chest, his body arching into yours. Your hand palms at his pulsing dick until he's oversensitive and pulling away. When you relent, the front of his shorts are sticky and wet.

Finally, Art lifts his face from the safety of your chest. His blue eyes are glossed over, but it's an improvement from the detached look they held ten minutes ago. His cheeks are flushed, a mixture of his own embarrassment and satisfaction. 

You can't help the soft smile that creeps onto your face at the look of him, and immediately Art is abashedly trying to hide his face again, his own smile starting to appear. Before he can, you bring your hands back up to cradle his face, thumbs wiping away the wetness from under his eyes. This time he lets you.

His eyes study your face for a second, admiring you, appreciating the love he has for you.

“I don’t want to play tennis anymore.”

You can’t tell if it’s more of a statement or a confession. Either way, you know he’s telling you the absolute truth.

“Okay,” you reply softly, not hint of judgement in your voice. Maybe some disappointment, but that was understandable.

Retirement would be a kindness. Art would finally put back on some healthy weight, start smiling again, put on a real, actual smile. You could already see it, a nice house for the two of you to settle down in, with a picket fence and a dog in the backyard, the kind of things the two of you would have never had time for on tour.

Tennis had brought the two of you together, but it wouldn’t end you.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Best Friends Brother pt. 2 | C.W. ⋆✮⋆˙

> Part One

feat. Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Months have passed since you met (ie shagged and definitely didn't fall in love with) Charlie Weasley. And when Molly invites you to the Burrow for Christmas, your best friends Fred and George assure you that Charlie will not be in attendance. Spoiler alert: They are wrong.

CW: MDNI 18+, lots of christmas fluff and smut, Charlie being a shameless flirt, pining, brat tamer and primal!charlie if you squint, dirty talk, p in v, oral (f receiving), this is so tooth-rotting I cannot

AN: Charlie might be my favorite weasley to write for. and the implications of brat taming and primal play have my mind reeeeeeling

“So what are you doing for Christmas, deary?” Mrs. Weasley asked, stirring a sugar lump into her tea. You were squeezed beside Fred into a booth at tea shop in Diagon Alley, having run into your best friends and their mother while Christmas shopping. Molly insisted you join them for a rejuvenating cuppa, and you weren't one to refuse an earl grey.

“Oh, nothing really. Probably watch some corny films and get take away,” you replied, nibbling on the edge of a croissant.

“What?!” She gasped, so loud the neighboring tables turned to see what the fuss what about.

Fred and George pulled an identical grimace.

“Unacceptable!” She cried, dropping her spoon with a clatter. “Why on earth didn't you tell me she was spending Christmas alone?!” She whacked George on the arm and kicked Fred in the shin under the table.

“We didn't know!” They whined in unison, rubbing their injuries.

“Oh, Mrs. Weasley, it really isn't a big deal—”

“Not a big deal! Dear, it's Christmas!” She reached across the table and took your hands, squeezing hard and holding your eye. “You will spend it with us at the Burrow, alright?”

Your heart stopped, your tongue going thick. “Oh, I-uh—”

“Charlie will be in Romania,” Fred hissed to you from the corner of his mouth. “Just say yes, or she’ll skin us.”

Charlie. Best friends brother, dragon wrangler, and the best lay you'd ever had in your life. It had been three months since your tryst in the storage room, and the hours of effortless conversation that came after, and you'd thought of him every day since.

You'd exchanged a few letters over the months, pleasantries and some light flirting on Charlie's part. He'd even sent you a few shed scales from your favorite dragon species, the Welsh Green, but beyond that, nothing had transpired.

He lived on Romania, after all. And his work was his life. You just had a bit of fun together, a few hours of fantasy, nothing more. But no matter how many times you repeated that like mantra, you still found yourself unable to move on.

“I hope you know, love, I will not accept 'no' as an answer,” Molly said, pining you with a stern glare.

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I’m very grateful for the invitation, and I'd love to spend the holidays with your family,” you said, offering as genuine a smile you could muster despite your trepidation, and Molly beamed at you, already running through her plans for you all.

Fred slung an arm around your shoulders, jostling you with his excitement. “Yes! You're gonna love it.”

You were grateful, and you were eager to have a real Christmas with a family you adored, but it still felt…odd. You'd be spending the holidays with Charlie's family, but not Charlie.

You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed but…either way you were spending Christmas at the Weasley’s.

The Burrow and it's residents welcomed you with open arms. The sprawling home was decorated floor to rafter in homemade garland and candles, with decorated trees in every room, branches heavy with ornaments and paper chains.

Harry, Hermione, and Fleur were also staying over the holidays, and Ginny was beside herself with excitement that you were joining as well, pulling you in for a crushing hug that squeezed the last of bits of anxiety from your heart. Percy and Bill helped with your things, and the twins were quick to get a drink in your hand while everyone chatted excitedly over one another.

It was warm and merry, and you couldn't believe you almost missed this because of a stupid, little crush.

After about an hour of conversation, you noticed Ginny start to fidget under Harry’s arm, glancing at the location clock by the stairs every few minutes. The hand with Charlie's name remained firmly at ‘work’, while the rest piled into ‘home’.

You exhaled, fighting the nerves reknitting themselves in your stomach.

“Oi, twitchy,” Fred bumped your shoulder, drawing your attention back to the conversation. “What's on your mind—”

The floo station suddenly flared to life, verdant green light blasting through the room as the flames roared. Everyone yelped and scurried back, well, besides Ginny, and when the flames died the next instant, you realized why.

Charlie Weasley stood at the center of the fireplace, a bag over his shoulder and a smug smile on his face.

Your stomach turned inside out.

Merlin, how had he gotten even more handsome? His hair was a slightly longer, his beard thicker to ward off the biting, Romanian cold. He wore a heavy coat and cargo pants, leather boots still packed with melting snow.

“Charles!” Molly shrieked, throwing herself at her second oldest son and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Charlie!” Everyone cried, rushing to greet him while you tiptoed the opposite way, meaning to escape into the hall so you could collect yourself.

“Ah, ah,” George said, catching your wrist, grinning. “You don't want to do that,” he teased.

“And why not?” You huffed.

“Better to play it cool,” he winked, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

He was right, though. You would only survive this if you played it cool. Pretended everything was normal, that you hadn't been pining for this man for weeks on end, that the thought of spending Christmas with Charlie didn't make your heart flutter with excitement.

“But the clock!” Arthur laughed, finally wrangling Molly away so he could hug his son.

“Asked Ginevra to enchant it,” Charlie said, hugging his father with one arm and bundling his little sister into his opposite side, dropping a kiss on top of her head. “Seems she did well.”

“It is not to be tampered with!” Molly crowed, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“Alright, alright. I'll fix it,” Charlie chuckled, withdrawing his wand from his belt and muttering a reversal spell. The clock hand whirred around the face, confused, before it finally settled on ‘home’ with everyone else.

Charlie made his way around the room, hugging everyone and chatting until finally, he reached George, who you were attempting to hide behind.

Charlie pulled him into a bear hug, clapping him on the back. “She knows I can see her, right?” He murmured to George, just loud enough to be sure you also heard him.

Your cheeks warmed, your stomach falling through the floor.

George scoffed. “Stop checkin’ out my girlfriend, mate.”

Charlie grinned, shoving George to the side, perhaps a little harder than necessary. “Dream on, Georgie,” he chuckled, eyes shining with amusement. He finally turned to you, his expression softening. “Happy Christmas, y/n,” he said, approaching slowly, the heavy plod of his boots matching the jump of your heart.

“Happy Christmas, Charlie,” you replied, playing coy and reaching up to brush some snow from his wide shoulder. “How's my Welsh Green?” you asked.

Charlie smirked, his eyes sweeping over your face, down your neck, before flicking back to your eyes. “She nearly took my head off this morning when I tried to give her breakfast.”

“My kind of girl.” You felt your skin prickle under his attention, but you held your composure.

“Mine too,” he purred, lowering his voice. Heat curled low in your stomach, remembering the way his voice pitched and deepened while you—good god, you were losing your mind.

“Time for supper!” Molly called over the dull roar of conversation, and you slipped away from Charlie to follow the twins into the dining room, desperate for a breath that wasn’t sweetened by his cologne.

Dinner went by in a blur of food and activity, Charlie sat by Arthur at the head while you were sequestered to the other side with the twins. After eating, Charlie slipped away to shower, and you joined everyone else back in the living room for board games and music.

You were wrapped up in a game of Scrabble with Hermoine and Ginny when Charlie re-emerged, his hair damp and slicked back, dressed in flannel pajama pants and a black t-shirt. Your mouth dried, your pussy fluttering at the mental image of him in the shower moments before.

His eyes found you across the room, his tongue darting out to wet his lips while they swept over you, taking in the House crewneck and pj shorts you’d changed into. You turned back the game to hide your face, swallowing the lump in your throat.

A moment passed, then Charlie turned to join Bill, Percy, and Arthur in the study, casting you another glance over his shoulder before disappearing.

A few more hours rolled by, and one by one, everyone went to bed besides the older men in the study. Molly set you up on the couch, apologizing profusely for the lack of space, but you waved her off, happy to curl up by the fire and read the book Percy lent you.

You settled in with a blanket over your lap, a book in one hand, cup of tea in the other. Soon though, exhaustion began to tug at you, and your eyes started to flutter closed, the warmth of the room and the chaos of the day taking its toll as you slipped into unconsciousness.

Distantly, you felt someone take the book from your hand, the empty tea cup from your lap, and you swam back to wakefulness, lifting your head.

“Just me, love,” a voice said, soft and male, and you immediately recognized it as Charlie’s.

You blinked open your eyes, finding him sticking a playing card in your book to hold your page. “Oh, what are you doin’?” you mumbled, rubbing a knuckle in your eye.

“Are you sleeping down here?” he asked, crouching in front of you, brow lightly creased. He smelled like woodsmoke and cinnamon, and you had to remind your sleep-addled mind that you could not just melt into his arms like softened candle wax.

You nodded. “Guest beds are full. But it’s okay, m’comfy.” You snuggled back down on to the couch, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

“I don’t think so. C’mon, you can take my bed.”

You shook your head, grumbling an unintelligible protest into the pillow as sleep crept back in on you.

Suddenly, you were moving, the couch falling away.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the sodding couch,” Charlie grumbled, curling you into his chest. You gave half a thought to try and free yourself, to put up some sort of fight, but his heartbeat was right against your ear, reverberating in the barrel of his chest, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to move away.

He carried you up a few flights of stairs and down a hallway, nudging open a bedroom door with his foot, careful to walk you through without bumping against anything. He set you down on his bed and tucked you under the thick duvet. The smell of him wrapped around you, clean and warm and Charlie, and you moaned in contentment, too tired to stop yourself.

Every one of your cells had missed him.

He pressed a light-as-air kiss to your temple before pulling away. You reached out to catch his hand, surprising him.

“Where are you gonna sleep?” You asked, voice muffled by his pillow.

“I’ll find somewhere,” he murmured, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. “Used to sleeping in strange places.”

You must have pulled some kind of face, your filter nonexistent in your sleepy state, because he leaned back down to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Better stop with that pout, sweetheart. You’ve got me strung out on the gallows,” he warned, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“M’not doing anything,” you teased back, peeking open your eyes to look at him.

“I’m trying to behave this time,” he chuckled, crossing his heart. “You deserve to be properly courted.”

A yawn stole the snarky quip from your tongue. “If you insist,” you sigh, eyes fluttering closed again.

“I do. Now, get some sleep,” he whispered, but you were already gone.

The following morning, you trudged down the stairs at an egregious hour, the incessant, jovial chatter of the Weasley's impossible to sleep through.

You found them all in the kitchen, steam from the kettle floating through the air, chased by the scent of cinnamon and syrup.

“There she is! The dead walks the earth! Now go bloody change!” Arthur shouted, shoving a rumpled but bright-eyed looking Charlie out from the crowd around the kitchen island.

“Huh?” You looked between the twins and Arthur, but Charlie slung an arm over your shoulder, tugging you into his side.

“I've been summoned to the Ministry for an update on a particularly nasty Horntail,” he said, then leaned in a little closer. “And Happy Christmas Eve, darling,” he whispered.

“Happy Christmas Eve—sorry, what does that have to do with me?” You asked, your brain catching up to the situation.

“The sap refused to risk waking you up to change into his suit,” George supplied. "So they're running late."

“Why would you—”

“Ignore them, you can sleep as long as you like,” he murmured to you.

“Charlie!” You hissed. “You should have woken me up!”

“Over my dead body, love.”

“Charles! Now!” Molly shouted, rattling the rafters.

“Fine, fine.” He reluctantly pulled away from you and bound up the stairs.

“Good morning,” Fred said, beaming at your scowl.

“Morning people, are we?” You asked, accepting a cup of coffee from George.

“No,” Ron argued, his head pillowed by his arms on the table.

Fifteen minutes later, the clop of heavy boots coming down the stairs drew everyone's attention away from their breakfast.

Charlie came around the bend, dressed in a simple, espresso colored suit with a black wool coat, a leather bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was pushed back, brushed and tidy, and silver jewelry shined from his pierced ears and ringed hands.

You nearly choked on your eggs, and Fred clapped a hand on your back.

Everyone wolf whistled and jeered, not used to seeing their rakish brother dressed to the nines. Charlie waved them off with a soft smile, leaning over you to grab a cinnamon roll. His freshly applied cologne wafted over you, spicy and warm, and all other thoughts vacated your head.

Arthur grabbed him by the arm. “Yes, yes. You're very handsome, you are my son after all. Let's go.”

“Wish us luck!” Charlie called, allowing an impatient Arthur to drag him towards the floo station. In a burst of green, they were gone.

“Are all mornings this chaotic?” You asked no one in particular.

“Yes,” they all replied in a unison, and you grinned.

You could get used to a little chaos.

The day passed in a whirlwind of preparation, with you spending most of it with Molly in the kitchen or decorating with the twins.

Once that was finished, you'd gotten ready in Charlie's room, dressing in a white sweater dress and black stockings, your hair loose and makeup light.

You couldn't help but wonder what Charlie would think of it as you evaluated yourself in the mirror. You felt his absence like an ache in your side, and found your gaze wandering back to the floo station all day.

About an hour before dinner, green flames finally erupted in the fireplace. Everyone dropped what they were doing and rushed over, eager to hear about how it went at the Ministry.

You'd gathered from the twins that the fate of the Horntail hung in the balance after it destroyed a flock of sheep in Western Scotland. Charlie, along with several other Dragonologists, had been fighting for it’s life for months.

The flames extinguished, revealing Arthur and Charlie. Arthur was beaming, an arm around his son, while Charlie looked exhausted.

“Oh, thank goodness. Just in time!” Molly cried, throwing her arms around her husband.

“How'd it go?” Everyone asked at once, following Charlie as he stalked into the living room and dropped heavily onto the couch.

Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut against the racket.

“Our son was incredible, Molly. You should have seen him. Every question, he beat away like a bludger. It was masterful,” Arthur gushed, still grinning.

You watched Charlie warily. He certainly wasn't acting like it had gone well.

Bill, seeming as concerned as you, poured a glass of whiskey and passed it to his younger brother. Charlie swallowed the amber drink in one go, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“So, is the Horntail safe?” Ginny asked, sitting tentatively beside her brother on the couch.

“For now,” Charlie muttered, finally picking his head up and opening his eyes. “They want to reevaluate in six months.”

“But that's good, isn't it?” Harry asked.

Charlie nodded. “I suppose.”

You could feel the hurt and anger radiating off of him despite his efforts at composure. The resolution clearly wasn't good enough for him, and you understood why.

You resisted the urge to sit by him, to fuss over him like his family was doing. It seemed to only drive him deeper into himself. He didn't need to hear that it was a good thing, a victory, because it wasn't. It shouldn't be a debate in the first place.

Christmas Eve dinner passed with the expected chaos, and Charlie seemed to cheer a bit after a good meal, a few laughs, and another whiskey. But you could still detect a heaviness around his shoulders. You felt it as keenly as if it was your own burden.

After dinner, everyone moved back into the living room, but you followed Charlie into the now abandoned kitchen, the wreckage of the meal evident on every surface.

You leaned against the entry way, watching as he fiddled with random things, looking for a way to distract himself. “Hey,” you murmured, drawing his attention from the mugs he was straightening.

He gave you a tired smile. “Hi, love. How was your day?” He asked, moving towards you. He'd ditched his blazer and dress shirt before dinner, leaving him in his dark trousers and a white t-shirt, his muscles straining against the fabric.

“It was good. Made some cookies, strung some lights. We missed you, though.”

He braced a hand on the wall beside your head, leaning closer. “We?” He asked, raising a brow.

Merlin, his bicep was the size of your head.

You shrugged, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Me, mostly.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, freckles crinkling around his eyes. “I missed you too. Would have much rather been here to help out. I make a mean gingerbread.”

“I bet you do," you replied sincerely, watching the way his shoulders start to ease down. “I’m sorry about the Horntail,” you said, a little quieter. “But I'm glad you bought it a little more time.”

Charlie sighed, picking at a flake of paint on the wall. “I am too. Just wish I didn't have to do it at all. He doesn't deserve to be executed just for feeding himself.”

“I know. But I'm glad he has you to speak for him.”

Charlie searched your face, his eyes melting with blatant affection. Your heart tripped over itself, drumming hard under your skin.

He glanced up and you followed his gaze, finding a sprig of mistletoe hanging just above your heads. You hadn't noticed it before, but you supposed that was the beauty of mistletoe: it was always where you least expected it.

His eyes flicked back down to you, molten chocolate, and your thoughts turned to static. He reached up to cup your face, far more timid than you've come to expect from him, and tilted your head up towards his.

“Can't believe I haven't told you how beautiful you look yet,” he said, his other hand sliding around your waist to draw you closer. “A Christmas wish come true.”

You smiled, feeling like marshmallow over an open flame. “A Christmas wish?” You prodded, batting your lashes at him as heat spilled through you.

“Too cheesy?” He asked, bumping his nose against yours, your faces so close you could almost feel his smirk.

“The perfect amount,” you murmured, your lips grazing his.

Charlie closed the final millimeter, pressing your bodies together in a slow, sipping kiss. Every neuron in your body lit up, reaching towards him as you curled your fingers into his shirt, deepening the kiss. His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth and you parted for him, letting him delve further and taste you.

He loosed a low groan, his grip tightening as he backed you against the wall. He licked into your mouth, stoking the fire simmering under your skin.

“Hey, y/n—merlin, in the middle of the kitchen? Really?”

You and Charlie sprang apart, finding Fred with a hand clapped over his eyes, a cheeky grin on his face.

“So sorry for interrupting. Though, lucky it was me and not mum,” he teased, dropping his hand. But his smile quickly fell too when Charlie advanced on him, swinging an arm out in an attempt to grab him. Fred ducked to the left and bolted back into the living room, leaving Charlie laughing and shaking his head.

“Well, that's fantastic,” you huffed, pressing a hand to your sternum to quell your pounding heart.

“I can't say they'll be all that surprised.” Charlie cupped your face again, drawing you up for a quick peck. “I haven't shut up about you since we met.”

You're soul lifted out of your body. “You—r-really?”

He smiled, pulling you in for a hug, his big arms wrapped around your head and shoulders. “Really, love. You've got me wrapped around your little finger,” he said, his voice muffled by your hair.

“I thought I was going mad, I…I couldn't stop thinking about you,” you admitted, exhaling in relief. You hugged him around the waist, sliding your hands under his shirt just to feel his skin against yours.

You felt him stiffen at your admission, before the tension dissolved from his muscles completely. “Maybe we're both a little mad, then,” he chuckled.

“We should get back to the party before they start to miss us,” you said after a few moments of quiet, though all you wanted to do was drag him up to his room and show him just how mad you were for him. But you were a guest, and you needed a moment to get your thoughts in order.

It seemed Charlie had made up his mind about what he wanted, but you hadn't even begun to let yourself consider something real with Charlie Weasley. It seemed like too lofty a hope, an impossibility.

Your heart screamed ‘yes’ but your mind demanded a rationalization, a plan. Whatever you felt for him was intense, but you would hate to rush into something and ruin what you knew could be amazing.

Well, rush into something any more than your already had.

You realized he was studying you like your thoughts were written across your skin. “Baby, look at me,” he said, turning your face back up to his. “I know we started off on an…unorthodox foot. But that wasn't just a hook up and you and I both know it.” He leaned his forehead against yours. “There’s something more between us.”

“I feel it too,” you admitted. “But I've never…” you trailed off, unable to articulate the tumbling thoughts in your mind.

“Me neither, to be honest. I feel like I've been struck by lightning,” he said, breathless, a slight nervous tremble in his voice.

You nodded, reassured that he was feeling the same, vaguely crazed way you were.

“Trust yourself, y/n,” he said, releasing you from the hug and offering you his hand. “Overthinking is the thief of joy.”

“Get out of my brain,” you huffed in mock annoyance, smiling as you twined your fingers with his.

The rest of the evening passed in a rose colored blur, with cookies and games and storytelling. Charlie never strayed far from your side, though you kept any physical affection to a minimum. But based on the knowing looks from Arthur and Molly, and the teasing smirks and jabs from his siblings, they were definitely on to you two.

After the clock struck midnight, Molly demanded everyone go off to bed so Father Christmas would have no interruptions. You were all plenty old enough to know there was no such thing, but it still made you feel a giddy thrill of excitement. That glimmer of Christmas magic you never grow out of.

Charlie offered you his hand at the base of the stairs, a mischievous sort of smile on his face, and you accepted with a raised eyebrow. He led you up the stairs and opened the door to his room with a flourish.

You nearly toppled over when you walked in. It was completely transformed from this morning. Gone were the normal decorations and his dark duvet, replaced instead with a winter forest wonderland.

His bedspread was a deep forest green, with white throw pillows and silver trim, and a stuffed reindeer waited patiently for you on the pillow, floppy and velveteen. In the corner stood a flocked tree, decorated with pine cones and strung cranberries, and little animal ornaments carved from wood. The fire roared merrily in the fireplace, the mantle above it strewn with wild garland and rosemary. Two stockings hung above the flame, each of your names embroidered on them in silver and gold.

You whirled around to look at Charlie, who was smiling down at you, a slight flush to his freckled cheeks.

“When the hell did you have time to do this?” You asked, breathless and overwhelmed. No one has ever done something so special for you before.

“While you were wrapped up in Wizards Chess with Ron.” He snaked his arms around you, dropping a kiss to your furrowed brow.

“Charlie, this is—” emotion clogged your throat. “T-this is the m-most amazing thing—”

“Oh, baby,” he cooed, shushing you with a peck to your lips. “Spoiling you on Christmas feels like the least I can do to show you how much you mean to me. How badly I want this.”

“This?” You ask, sliding your hands up his broad chest. You expected to feel butterflies, but instead a warm blanket of peace settled over you, an understanding that this is exactly how it was meant to go. That here, with him, in the earliest hours of Christmas morning, was exactly where you belonged.

“Us,” he murmured, glancing at the stockings over the mantle, then back down to you, his dark eyes practically glowing with affection. “If that's what you want too.”

“Even with me here in London?” You asked, fiddling with his collar to hide the shaking in your fingers.

“We'll figure it out. You can come visit me as often as you like. And I can come back here a few times a month.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek, moving down your neck like he just couldn't hold himself back anymore. “I have a cabin.” Kiss. “In the forest.” Kiss. “With a big fireplace.” Kiss. “And a soaking tub.” Kiss. “And I can cook.” Kiss. “And have a giant bed—”

“Charlie!” You giggled, tugging on his hair so he lifted his head and you could kiss him properly, melting under the eagerness of his mouth, the joy in his kiss.

He scooped you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He crossed the room without breaking the kiss, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with you straddling him. The heat of your bodies pressed together was enough to have your pussy tingling, your breath labored.

“I wanna go where you go,” you breathed, breaking the kiss to appease your burning lungs. “I want to be with you.”

He responded with another fervid kiss, open-mouthed and hungry, and you let yourself get swept away in the riptide that was Charlie Weasley. Wild, impulsive, but so sincere, so lion-hearted and good. You weren't sure you'd ever get enough of him.

He seemed just as desperate for you, tugging his shirt over his head and letting your hands finally wander the full expanse of his body without barriers. You pushed him back onto the bed so you could really take him in, his big hands resting heavily on your thighs. He was broad and sturdy, his chest and arms corded with hard earned muscle, the tanned skin littered with freckles and silvery scars.

You nearly started drooling.

In a fluid motion, you tugged your sweater dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but your Christmas underwear set and black stockings. The set was black mesh, decorated with mistletoe and holly berries. You had bought in Hogsmeade on the off chance Charlie made an appearance, and it was worth the steep price to see his soul ascend as he took you in.

“Merlin’s fucking—” he didn't even finish the sentence, instead pulling you down onto his chest for another scalding kiss, his calloused hands wandering up your thighs and over your hips, smoothing over the curve of your rib cage and around the plane of your back. His tongue slid into your mouth, twining with yours. You could taste the whiskey he'd been drinking, tinged with cigar smoke and gingerbread, and you moaned at the decadence of him.

One of his hands slid around to cup the nape of your neck, the other bracketing across your lower back to press your hips flush to his. You ground down onto him, unable to ignore the thrumming between your legs any longer. You both groaned at the new friction, his hips lifting to press more firmly against you.

“Just so you know,” he gruffed as you kissed down his neck, licking a long stripe over his Adam’s apple, feeling his stubble under your tongue. “I put a silencing charm on the room.”

“Very presumptuous of you,” you teased, sucking at his pulse just hard enough to leave a faint bruise, but nothing too obvious.

His hips rolled against yours, coaxing a breathy moan from your lips. “Part of my training includes being prepared for any situation,” he countered, his voice strained with desire as you rocked against him.

“Uh-huh. And what else were you trained to do?” You asked, freezing in place to watch him squirm.

A wicked smirk crossed his face and suddenly you were moving, flipped beneath his body faster than you could blink. “How to tame brats,” he growled against your ear, and a shiver rolled down your spine.

He shifted down your body, kissing and licking along the swell of your breasts before unlatching your bra and tossing in across the room. He took both your tits in his hands, nuzzling the soft flesh before laving his tongue across both nipples, making you lift off the bed with a gasp of pleasure.

“It's not fair that you get to walk around with these all the time. Too fucking perfect,” he said, his voice muffled by your skin.

You almost said that they were his. That the only thing that wasn't fair was how quickly he'd stolen your heart. But you bit your tongue, moaning under his ministrations instead.

He sucked a pearled nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it before grazing his teeth against it, his fingers pinching and rolling the other until your eyes crossed, desire pooling between your legs.

“Can take my time with you now,” he hummed, pulling back to pepper kisses across your chest. “Take care of my girl properly.”

My girl. Your head spun, your heart swelling with elation. You never thought this would happen for you, the perpetually single girl who never found someone you genuinely connected with. But Charlie was like a comet tearing through your life, turning every one of your assumptions about love upside down.

He drew you back from your thoughts with a bite under your left breast. “Come back to me, baby. No more overthinking.”

“It’s good thoughts this time,” you said, running your fingers through his ginger hair and scratching along his scalp as he soothed the mark with his tongue.

He looked up at you, a pleased smirk on his face. “Thinking about that soaking tub, huh?”

You pulled his hair, giggling at his antics while he moved further down your body. “Among other things—shit, Charlie,” you whined when his tongue dragged over the soaked gusset of your panties, scalding hot and firm.

He pulled them to the side, gliding his tongue through your slick folds and wrapping his lips around your clit, lashing it with the tip of his tongue. Pleasure coursed through you, your eyes rolling back in your skull as you cried out.

He hummed against you, moving back down to lap at your entrance with long, messy strokes. He was practically grinding his face against you, savoring you like you were the finest meal he'd ever had. He was so enraptured in pleasuring you that he was moaning right along with you, making your clit vibrate and walls flutter.

“Saints, I missed you,” he said, giving your clit and open mouthed kiss before sucking the sensitive bud between his teeth.

You couldn't even begin to formulate words, completely lost in his feasting, your body fizzing with delight and pleasure. It felt like you were high, your muscles languid, bones rubbery.

“Not thinking anymore, are we?” He teased, nipping at the soft skin of your inner thigh.

You whimpered and shook your head, raising your hips to chase after his mouth.

“Good girl.” he purred, rewarding you by latching back onto your clit, his middle finger easing inside your greedy channel.

You cried out, clenching around his finger as he pushed you closer to the edge, your listless haze making way for bright, desperate pleasure. You bucked your hips against his mouth, his tongue flattening against your clit as his inserted a second finger, stretching you. The sounds were damn near sinful, lewd and sloppy as he worked your pussy into submission, molding you like a sculptor with wet clay.

“Fuck, Charlie. M’gonna come,” you whined, tangling your fingers in his hair to keep him in that perfect spot.

He curled his fingers inside of you and your vision whited out, your orgasm ripping through you, body and soul. You screamed, spine arching off the bed as wave after wave of burning ecstasy rolled through you, his tongue and fingers not letting up for a second as you convulsed.

“That's it, honey. Just like that, let it all go,” he cooed, kitten-licking your clit as you started to come down, his fingers continuing to gently massage your spasming walls. “Try to relax, love. I know it's a lot, but just relax f’me. You're doing so well.”

You sank back into the mattress, breathing labored as he soothed your quivering pussy with gentle touches. “Charlie,” you moaned, your body finally settling and cycling from overstimulation to rebuilding pleasure. “Feels s’good.”

He nuzzled your clit, kissing over your slit, the top of your mound, your inner thighs. “I live to serve,” he said, withdrawing his fingers and sucking them clean. “And if I have to live my life in service to this perfect little cunt, so be it.” As if to punctuate his point, he laved his tongue through you again and you keened, nearly jumping away at the intensity.

You shook you head, tugging him up by the hair. “Need you to fuck me, Charlie. Please?”

He grinned, kissing his way back up your body until he caught your lips once more, the taste of you mixing with him in a way that pleased some possessive part of your brain. You deepened the kiss, licking into his mouth for more.

He pressed his body against yours, the weight of him warm and comforting as you savored one another. You trailed your hands over his back, feeling some of the ridges and scars stretched across the ropes of muscle. He guided one of your legs up over his hip, angling your bodies together like a puzzle piece.

You basked in the simmering kiss for a moment longer before need began to claw at your insides, your hips pressing up against his once more.

“Charlie, please,” you sighed into his mouth, dragging your nails down his back. “Don't make me beg.”

“But you sound so sweet, all breathy and desperate,” he cooed, pecking your lips a final time before moving off the bed. He slid your panties down your legs, tossing them aside with your other clothes, then removed his trousers and boxers, that gorgeous, rosy cock slapping up against his stomach.

He climbed back onto the bed and spread your thighs, kneading the flesh at your hip while he ran the rigid head of his cock through your drooling pussy.

“My sweet girl wants to get fucked, hm?” he said, his voice rough as he used his cock to massage your puffy clit. “Let me hear you ask one more time, honey. Sounds so pretty.”

“Please fuck me, baby. Please,” you whimpered, fisting the sheets on either side of you.

He notched his cock at your entrance, hissing through his teeth as your pussy opened effortlessly for him. “That's it, lovey. Fuck, your little pussy is so tight f’me,” he groaned as your walls clenched around him, coaxing him deeper. You could tell he was fighting the urge to bottom out in one thrust, the muscles in his arms and shoulders taught and trembling, chest heaving and jaw a little slack.

You reached for him, the feeling so intense you needed an anchor. He leaned forward, knowing what you craved, and let you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck.

He rubbed soothing circles on your thigh, his other hand sliding around your back to hold you against him. “Too much, baby?” He asked, pausing his slow penetration.

“Too good,” you whimpered, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He nodded, loosing a breath as you clenched around him. “Feel like your squeezing my heart,” he groaned, and you could feel it racing just beneath his skin, frantic as yours.

“Keep going, Charlie. Please,” you begged, tilting your pelvis so he sank a little deeper.

He eased you back onto the bed, still holding you close. “Good girl, takin’ me so well. Just relax, honey. Just feel me,” he soothed as he pushed the rest of the way in, his cockhead nudging your cervix and stretching your walls just enough. Not sensing any discomfort from you, he started rolling his hips back and forth in fluid strokes, kissing your skin wherever he could reach.

Pleasure spread through your body like ink through water, coloring every sensation, every thought. You loosened your grip on him, opening yourself up to his unhurried affection as he fucked you slowly, letting you adjust to the onslaught of sensation.

“You're so pretty like this, so fucking perfect.” He mouthed at your throat, your head tilting back with a cry as he increased his pace, ecstasy dancing along your skin. “All mine to love on, yeah? You all mine, baby?”

You bobbed your head, already cockdrunk and blissed out, your body submitting completely to him. “Yes, fuck, yes. All yours,” you whimpered, that knot in your lower stomach starting to tighten.

“Fuck yes, my good girl.” He leaned down and caught your lips in a searing kiss, a growl rumbling through his chest as he fucked you harder, driving his cock in and out of your sopping cunt with powerful strokes. “And I'm yours, baby. All fucking yours.” He murmured against your mouth and you grinned, feeling your heart give a discordant thump of elation.

He leaned back to fuck you deeper, one hand tangling with both of yours and pining your arms over your head, the other sliding down to rub tight circles over your clit. You stretched out for him, arching your breasts up to his hungry gaze as he railed you, merciless and claiming.

“Saints, you look so fucking sexy. Gonna come for me, love? Mark this cock as yours?”

You let out a scream as a second orgasm was wrenched from your body, the tension unraveling all at once in a torrent of bliss. You clamped hard around him, feeling his cock swell, then buck as his own release crashed over him, your name coming out like roar.

You clung to one another, his hips still rolling into yours as your walls milked him dry, wringing every drop of pleasure from one another until you crashed back to earth as one.

After catching your breath for a moment, he lifted off of you, hands skimming over your face, your body. “Merlin, I’m sorry, baby. I really didn't mean to be that rough, are you okay? Did I hurt—”

You silenced him with a kiss, pulling his body back down onto yours. “Was perfect,” you mumbled against his lips and he smiled.

“You were perfect,” he corrected, pecking kisses all over your cheeks and forehead. “Can’t get enough of you.”

You giggled, squirming as his hands tickled along your sensitive skin.

“Can I take you for a real date tomorrow? I don't know if anything will be open, but I refuse to go another day without—”

“Charlie,” you shushed, cupping his bearded cheek. “You can take me to the kitchen and call it a first date. I don't care about some made-up fucking rules. I just want to be with you.”

He grinned, giving you a quick, toothy kiss. “Then how about I clean you up, make some mulled wine with this expensive shit I brought back from Romania, and we cuddle by the fire? Call that our first date, and next year we can celebrate our one year anniversary on Christmas.”

You pushed against his chest, laughing at his dramatics, but secretly hoping that would be the case. “It better be a hell of mulled wine then,” you teased.

“Oh, it will be. Romanians don't fuck around when it comes to their booze. Now, open those gorgeous legs for me.”

“Charles Septimus Weasley! Get up!” Ginny shouted through the door, banging her fist on the wood. “You cannot sleep in on Christmas!”

“Septimus?” You groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Charlie had his head buried in your neck, heavy limbs thrown over your body. He was warm as a furnace, and the still crackling fire didn't help matters.

“Sod off!” he barked back, nuzzling closer and tightening his hold around you. You glanced at the clock, and after your prolonged first date, you'd only gotten a few scant hours of sleep.

“Fine! Then I'll throw whatever's in this fancy little box in the fire!”

Charlie was up in a flash, tugging on pants and wrenching open the door, but Ginny was already gone.

He sighed, grabbed something from the hall, then swung the door shut. He looked ready to dive back into bed, but you were already up, pulling on a pair of his boxers.

He froze in place, a feral sort of glint in his eye, forgetting entirely about the package in his hands. When you went to grab it, he lifted it high above his head, well out of your reach.

“Charlie!” You pouted, trying in vain to pull his arm down. He still hadn't taken his eyes off of your body. “You really want me to make a bad impression on your parents for our first Christmas?” You snapped, fighting the smile rising on your face.

“Just do a little spin for me,” he said, twirling a finger around.

“Charlie!”

“Fine, fine. Here,” he chuckled, handing you a pair of pajamas with your name embroidered on them. They were red and green, with white stripes and gold thread, the material thick and warm.

You loved them already.

The two of you quickly got dressed and hurried downstairs, finding everyone else already piled into the living room, also dressed in matching pj's.

“Ah, the lovebirds finally make their appearance!” Bill teased from the big arm chair, Fleur cuddled into his side.

Charlie flipped him off, ignoring the squawk of disapproval form his mother.

“Come, come!” Molly grabbed you and plunked you down on the last free space on the couch, and George passed you a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

George leaned in and muttered, “It's no mulled wine, but—”

Charlie whacked the back of his head. “Quiet, you,” he warned.

“Charles, if I have to speak to you again!” Molly shouted.

“Alright, alright! Let's get this show on the road,” Arthur said, shooing his son away so they could distribute the clumsily wrapped boxes under the tree.

Charlie plopped onto the floor between your knees, his hands coming up to absently massage your right foot. Your whole body tingled at the contact, your heart still tight with joy.

Could this really be your life?

Arthur passed out gifts, and you ended up with a pile of three at your feet. A flat, rectangular box, a heavy, square box, and one small enough to fit in your hand, wrapped in green and gold ribbon.

They went around one by one, opening gifts. Charlie received a new pair of steel-toed boots, enchanted to prevent the Romanian cold from creeping in, and an expensive looking bottle of gin, courtesy of his big brother.

After him, it was finally your turn. Your heart thudded from the attention, and you started unwrapping the larger present with trembling fingers. You tore off the paper and opened the white box underneath it, finding a knitted sweater with your initial on the front. Your throat pinched shut, tears burning behind your eyes as you traced your fingers over it.

“You're part of the family now, love,” Molly said, smiling warmly at you as you wiped away a tear with the back of your hand.

“Thank you,” you sniffled, laughing at yourself, and Charlie gave your ankle a reassuring squeeze, pressing a kiss to your knee.

The next present was from Fred and George, a stack of books you'd been eyeballing the last time the three of you went to Flourish and Blotts, and you pulled them in for a group hug.

Finally, it came down to the last present. The tension pulled taut as a bowstring when Charlie turned towards you, propped up on one knee, presenting the small box.

“I know how this looks,” he murmured, glancing down at himself. “But I promise I'm not that insane.”

You giggled nervously, taking the present from his hand and trying to ignore that his entire family was watching you. You tried to focus on Charlie, the rise and fall of his shoulders, the lock of copper hair hanging over his brow, and blocked the others out.

Carefully, you undid the ribbon and tore off the paper, revealing a black, dragon-leather box. Charlie gave you an encouraging nod, noticing the way you hesitated, and you cracked open the lid.

Inside was a golden necklace with a Welsh Green dragon scale pendant sitting on a velvet cushion. It was the most stunning shade of emerald you'd ever seen, reflecting beautifully in the candlelight, shifting blue, then pearlescent, and back to green. It was breathtaking, and you fought back the tears gathering on your lower lashes so you could continue to gaze at it.

“Charlie, this is—” emotion stole your words, and all you could do was throw your arms around him and bury your face into his shoulder.

“I hope you love it, darling. Had it made just for you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Here, let me put it on you.”

You nodded, sitting up and trying to wipe your tears before his family could see what a mess you were, but when you looked around, you saw half of them crying too.

Molly blew you a kiss, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, and you nearly lost it again.

Charlie gently took the box from your hands and walked around behind the couch. His cool fingers grazed the sides of your throat and the weight of the pendant settled against your clavicle. A moment later, your heard the clasp click, and felt the warm brush of his lips on the back on your neck.

You fondled the pendant with your fingers, the metal already warming against your heated skin, the scale heavy and smooth. Charlie came back around to the front, eyes lighting up at the sight of your smile.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he hummed, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

You grabbed his collar and pulled him in for a kiss. “Merry Christmas, Charlie.”

Thank you so much for reading!! (and if you have anything you'd like to read for Charlie, my asks are open!)

[luckykiwiii101]

YOU ARE VOID

(Your Power Is Beyond Human Comprehension)

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

ィI made something that’ll love me, even with my flaws⠀࿐

Hey Upper East Siders. You are many things, disappointing, frustrating, the polar opposite of persistent, and pitiful. Did that trigger you…? Well I hope it did. Because you better not have listened to an outsider to tell you who you are.

But if there’s one thing I can tell you about yourself, it’s that you are the void. You are everything. But you act like the opposite. Nothing. But you know why. As i’ve said before, that feeling always comes from somewhere. And it’s not coming from inside the house, it’s coming from the outside. And you keep letting it in. Doors wide open, arms wide open and mouth wide open when you realise you didn’t get what you wanted. How…familiar? You’ve been living this on loop for years.

“S-s-so h-how d-do I s-s-s-s-stop-p g-gos-s-sip-p g-g-g-irl?🥺 I-I’m s-so h-h-help-pless-s-s a-and-d c-c-an’t-t p-pers-sist t-to s-save m-my li-ife. *sucks thumb in stupidity*” …

You know what i’m going to tell you. Identify with your inner self, persist blah blah blah. And yes that is exactly what I would tell you. But this post is for the upper east siders who actually get the point. Now let me get to it. This post is about feeling that you are the void and the creator of your life. Want to induce pure consciousness? Want to wake up “there” in the void? Want to exercise your full power? This is how.

Break out of all bounds created by your human limitations. Want to know why you manifest instantly “in” the void state? Because that’s when you are purely just you. In that state, you are purely you. That is who you truly are. And that is the who I am talking about when I say the “inner self”. Completely detached from the physical world. And that is who you go back to every time you imagine. That is who has it.

Now I want to help you intensify this feeling, make it easier to navigate. Really understand it. Making your desires feel less “out of reach” and “extraordinary”. It’ll help you make your desires feel a lot more natural to you, including inducing the void state and waking up in it. In your purest state. Here’s how.

DO IT NOW:

Close your eyes. Focus on just being. Focus on just being aware. Being conscious. Focus on feeling limitless. Free from all physical “limitations”. Now focus on feeling all powerful. Feel that you can do absolutely anything, feel anything, create anything. That is the real you. Not the outer you.

Infact, there is no “outer you”. There is only the inner you. The outer you is your physical body, the one who is being perceived by others. The inner you can only be perceived by you. Can only be defined by you. And only you.

This is the feeling I meant to talk about when I said “go back to imagination and start with the feeling that you can have whatever you want there.”

Start with this feeling that you are limitless and powerful. Feel that you are the void. Remember who you are, and then imagine whatever you want. That is when you become unstoppable.

I’ve given you all the information you need. Now it’s all on you. What are you going to do? Who are you going to be? XOXO

- gossip girl

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

[naughtyjjk]

vibrating pleasures

characters: gojo, geto, nanami, toji | fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, vibrators, teasing, dirty talk, edging, orgasm denial, begging, blindfold, using toys in public, exhibitionism, mirror sex

GOJO...

he would be such a fucking tease, tormenting you endlessly and getting off on it. if he really gets into it, if he's really horny, he'll blindfold you and get you to lie down on the bed to take whatever he gives you. with your sense of sight gone, everything else is heightened, and you gasp when you feel the first touch of something against your skin.

“can you tell what this is?” gojo asks, trailing the object up and down your legs. he focuses on your inner thighs where you’re most sensitive, moving higher up one leg, purposely skipping over your pussy, and down the other leg.

it’s hard to think when gojo is teasing you like this, but it’s one of your toys, you can tell that much. 

“the... the vibrator?” you ask, swallowing back a desperate whine.

"oh? you guessed that so easily. such a naughty girl." gojo tsks like he’s disappointed that it didn’t take you longer to guess. “do you use this toy to pleasure yourself often?”

“n-no,” you whimper when you feel gojo brushing over your clit with the gentlest of touches. “i haven’t—ah—used it in months.”

“really?” gojo asks in a taunting tone. “do you miss the vibrations? they would feel soo good right now, wouldn’t they? bet they’d make you come in no time...”

you shudder, arousal growing as you imagine exactly that. “yes, yes, i want—”

gojo hums, all smug at how eager you’ve become and continues taking his sweet time to make you fall apart. "look at how wet you are, baby... and i haven't even touched your pussy yet."

moaning, your pussy aches with need. gojo is going so damn slow and it’s beyond frustrating how he never gives you anything to be satisfied.

the toy slides up—so close, so fucking close to where you want it. you arch off the bed, trying to feel the vibrator on your throbbing pussy, but gojo only chuckles at how desperate you are and moves it away altogether. you whimper, so fucking horny, needing to feel some stimulation more than ever.

"is this where you want it?" gojo asks and finally, finally presses the toy directly on your pussy, but—it's turned off. there are no vibrations, just silicone touching your skin.

fuck. your hips jerk up at the contact because that's how sensitive you've become, but it's not nearly enough to satisfy your need. wetness gushes out of you, proof of your arousal. you want it so bad. "p-please..."

and then, without warning, the vibrator buzzes to life and a rush of pleasure overtakes your body. you moan as gojo holds the toy and slides it up and down your pussy, occasionally brushing against your sensitive clit. 

as soon as you get used to it even a little bit, gojo turns up the setting, the vibrations becoming more and more intense every time. you cry out, trying to close your legs but gojo forces them to stay open and you have no choice but to endure the constant assault.

the problem is that it feels good, too fucking good. the toy is steadily bringing you to the edge and you’ve become a moaning mess on the bed. your back arches, panting hard as your body gets ready for your orgasm. soon, you’ll feel so good that you mind will go blank with pleasure. soon, any minute now—

“gonna come, baby?” gojo asks, those blue eyes watching you carefully. you nod in response, squirming in place. “yeah? you wanna come from the vibrator?”

“yes—oh, god, yes—i’m c-close—i’m so—”

humming, you can hear the wicked grin in gojo’s voice as he brings you right to the edge, mere seconds away from your climax, and then promptly turns the vibrator off. “i don’t think so.”

“no, no—ah—ah—f-fuck—” you whimper, breathing hard, hands fisting around the bedsheets. your hips thrusting up desperately into the air, into nothing, as the stimulation is removed, leaving your pussy desperately aching for more. 

gojo reaches over to remove your blindfold and you blink to focus your vision. your gaze immediately lands on the tent in his pants, the bulge between his legs where his cock is straining against the fabric. you don’t even bother hiding the fact that you’re staring; having been denied your orgasm, you’re so fucking horny that it feels unbearable. you want that thick, throbbing cock inside you now.

“look how hard i am because of you,” gojo says, palming at his erection. he starts undoing the button of his pants and you swallow thickly. “what are you going to do about it?”

.

GETO...

this man is into exhibitionism and makes you put a vibrator inside your pussy then takes you outside for the day. he loves walking around with you knowing that the two of you are keeping a dirty little secret no one else knows about. it's remote controlled, of course. he has the remote in his pocket and turns it on and off as he pleases, keeping you on edge the whole time.

geto is cruel about it, always making the toy vibrate in the most dangerous situations. he's done this for hours already and he gets off by watching you trying so hard to hide your reactions. "a-ah—mm," you moan, then cough to cover it up. your panties are beyond wet, it's uncomfortable when you walk, and you’re worried it'll also soak through your pants. but you can't let other people know that you currently have a vibrator in your pussy. you just can't.

but fuck, it feels so good, though. geto clicks the higher setting, higher, higher, until you're squeezing your legs together, trembling in the middle of the street. leading you into a quieter alleyway, geto uses his body to block you from the outside view and leans in close.

"what's wrong?" he asks, rubbing your pussy through your clothes as if he doesn't already know. as if he's not the one causing the problem. "are you close? gonna come right here for me in public?"

and yes, yes, fuck, you really are going to come. you can feel your orgasm building up inside you, heat coiling in your stomach. just a little bit more and you'll—

that's when it stops. all of it. the vibrations disappear at the same time geto retreats his hand, leaving you with no stimulation whatsoever. your entire body is burning from the sudden denial, pussy throbbing in desperation, and your muscles give out as you lean on geto for support.

it's torture. it's thrilling. you've become so horny that you can't think straight anymore. all you want is for him to take you right there, bring you to your climax and give you the pleasure you want, but it's clear that geto has other plans.

"come on, baby," he says. compared to the state that you're currently in, he's far too composed. it’s entirely unfair. "we still have the rest of the afternoon to go."

.

NANAMI...

a classic rabbit vibrator works for him. he loves teasing you with it, rubbing the head of the toy against your pussy like he would with his cock. he loves watching it enter you, watching the length of it disappear inside you until it's all the way in, penetrating deep, the front part pressed against your clit. you squirm at the feeling of being filled but you also want more and that's when nanami starts thrusting the toy in and out of you.

his other hand is reaching down for his own cock, jerking himself off as he imagines himself fucking you in place of the toy. it turns him on so much to watch you get pleasure from the toy, trembling on the bed as you moan with every thrust. the vibrator isn’t even on yet, and you’re already falling apart.

“does it feel better than my cock?” nanami asks, voice low and raspy like he’s fucked out himself. you can tell that it’s taking everything in him to hold himself back, the way his jaw is set, looking at you hungrily as he thrusts his hips into his own hand.

you know what he wants to hear—that his cock is better, that the toy isn’t able to fill you up nearly as well as he can—but it’s hard to say all that when it’s making you feel so fucking good. 

unfortunately, if you don't answer in time, nanami growls, eyes darkening. "really? seems like i need to punish you..." and he spreads your legs wide, pushing the vibrator all the way inside you, turning it on without warning. you cry out, squirming, trying to escape the intense vibrations, but he holds you in place. forcing you to take it.

the settings change unexpectedly from a constant buzz to a pulsing sensation, all at different speeds. nanami never lets you get used to one vibration mode, clicking the buttons on a whim in varying patterns.

it’s not long before you feel the familiar coil in your stomach, a warning that your orgasm is approaching fast. the two little nubs of the rabbit vibrator flick at your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body over and over again.

but nanami knows you well. he can tell when you’re getting close. as soon as it looks like you’re about to tip over, your body tensing up and shaking uncontrollably, he stops you from coming and takes the toy out. you cry out, feeling so empty, but nanami refuses to give you what you want.

"i'll ask you one more time," nanami says, and it's obvious that he's reaching his limit too. his cock is throbbing, a steady stream of precum leaking down the shaft, so fucking hard that it must be painful. "do you want to come on the toy or my cock?"

your mind is so clouded with lust that it's hard to think. but you look at him, cock heavy in his hands as he continues to stroke himself, and a rush of desire washes over you. whining, you say, "y-you—your cock—want your cock—"

"good girl," he leans in to whisper by your ear and discards the toy off to the side. lining up his cock at your entrance, nanami slides into you without waiting any longer and you immediately clench around him.

thrusting in and out, he grunts every time he manages to hit deep inside you, angling his thrusts so that they’re aimed at your g-spot. his hips move frantically, chasing after his own release as well. a hand reaches down to find your clit, swollen from vibrator earlier, and he rubs circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves. it’s too much, it’s all too much. you can barely hang on.

“come,” he says in ragged breaths that only makes you more aroused. “come for me. now.”

it’s an order and your body obeys as soon as the words leave his mouth. you moan loud when you come and he fucks you through it until eventually his hips stutter and he thrusts into you one last time before he spills everything he has inside you. still in bliss, you think, yeah, you’d choose to have his cock over a vibrator any day.

.

TOJI...

positions you in front of a mirror and spreads your legs so that both of you will be able to see everything. it's embarrassing but undeniably hot, too. he starts off by rubbing you over your panties until you're squirming and he sits behind you, whispering, "that's it, baby, get nice and wet for me."

but it’s not enough. soon, your hips begin to move on their own, grinding into his hand, and he chuckles at how eager you are. his voice is right by your ear when he says, “shh, be patient.” you can’t help but shudder, wondering what he has planned next.

then he brings out the magic wand, pressing the vibrating head on one leg and dragging it up your thighs. slowly, slowly inching toward your pussy. he presses it over your panties, just on the outside of your pussy, but the fabric dulls the sensation, and you rolls your hips, wanting to feel more. and then he retreats.

this happens over and over again—toji moving the vibrator close, then away. you tremble every time it approaches your pussy and it’s so frustrating, so damn agonizing. the next time he holds the toy right against your pussy, you gasp as it makes contact and moan when he slides it up and down. at this point, you’re dripping, panties absolutely soaked, but it's not enough. not fucking enough. 

on cue, toji strips you, removing your panties, and turns your head toward the mirror. "look at yourself. i want you to watch as i make you come for me."

again, he moves the vibrator between your legs, nearing your pussy, but doesn't let it touch yet. you throb in anticipation, arousal only growing as he makes you wait. "do you want it?" he asks, taunting you.

you nod and beg him, "please, i-i need it—" from behind, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your lower back. knowing that he's just as turned on makes you even more aroused and when he finally gives it to you directly. there’s no barrier blocking it now, and the vibrator buzzes at a high intensity on your pussy and clit, sending pleasure throughout your body in waves. you moan to show your appreciation. it feels so fucking good and you can see how your body is reacting in the mirror.

toji moans too, right by your ear, and says, "mm, i think you can take a higher setting." he clicks a button on the toy and the intensity increases. you gasp, shaking in his lap, and you can yourself falling apart in front of you.

“a-ah—fuck, toji, i’m—ngh, i’m close—s-so close—”

your moans get louder, more desperate, as you feel your orgasm approaching. toji is watching you carefully, taking in every reaction from your body, and he says, “don’t come yet, baby. don’t you dare fucking come until i give you permission.” 

but it’s impossible to hold back when he’s being so merciless, the vibrator a constant source of pleasure aimed directly at your arousal. despite his warning, you find yourself getting closer, closer, and the buildup is overwhelming. there’s no way you can hold back. you’re so fucking close—  

toji growls, lifting the vibrator away. “i said not yet.”

“n-no, no—fuck, please—” you cry out, whimpering in protest. your hips buck forward, pussy pulsing, aching, and every muscle in your body is tense. you had been so ready for your release and it’s absolute torture to be denied like this. 

but it’s clear that toji has other plans because when you turn around to look at him, you notice that he’s pulled out his cock, giving himself a few strokes, hand slick with lube. he smirks when he catches you staring at his length, how hard he’s gotten, how the veins bulge out and precum spills out the tip, down his shaft. 

“you want it?” he asks, as if the answer isn’t obvious. of course you do. your pussy throbs at just the idea of his cock inside you, filling you up, splitting you open. 

“then get on your hands and knees,” he says, and you obey his orders without any resistance. “that’s it, now raise your ass for me. yeah, show me that pretty pussy of yours.”

you lift your hips and it would normally be embarrassing because the mirror is right in front of you and you can see yourself presenting your body to toji, but you’re too fucking horny to care. you wait in that position, in anticipation, while toji takes his sweet time and admires the view. 

“look at you, dripping all over the floor and making a mess. what a fucking naughty girl.” he says, and it’s true, you can feel the wetness slipping out of you, so aroused that it feels like you’re losing your mind. he lines up his cock by your entrance and you gasp when he pushes in all at once. 

your eyes flutter shut for a moment, consumed by the sensation, his hard cock inside you making you feel so full. he angles you so that you can see his hips moving in the mirror, pounding into you, thick cock disappearing into your pussy with every thrust. 

behind you, toji moans, low and guttural. “you like my cock? you like being fucked by my throbbing cock?”

“ah—hah—yes, f-fuck, feels good—feels so good—” you can feel him pulsing inside you, hitting your deepest corners. when he finds your g-spot, you make an embarrassing sound, so broken and loud. “th-there—don’t stop—hah—d-don’t stop—”

toji snaps his hips forward again and again, keeping up a brutal rhythm. “shit, you’re taking me so well—”

you’re so lost in the pleasure that you don’t notice him picking up the vibrator again until it’s too late. he presses it on your clit and the focus of intense stimulation on your weakest spot has you gasping, entire body shaking with how fucking good it feels.

“t-toji, toji—o-oh my god—i’m gonna—gonna come—” you moan and moan, completely at his mercy, right on the edge. “c-coming—i’m coming—” 

“do it. come for me,” toji says. he’s panting too, voice is low and raspy and so fucking hot. “come all over my cock. good girl.”

the pleasure from his cock and the toy combined is too much. your orgasm overtakes you, making you shake and tremble with how hard you come. panting, you try to catch your breath, but toji continues to fuck you through it, and you clench around him on instinct.

toji curses, hips stuttering. “fuck—so tight—” 

with a moan, he thrusts his cock deep inside you and pulses against your walls as his release shoots inside you. it makes you moan, too, at the feeling of being filled. when he eventually pulls out, you can see his come dripping out of you in the mirror, white and sticky and absolutely filthy. so fucking hot.

you turn to toji and yeah, you both know that you’ll be using the vibrator again in the future.

.

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian @l0rdgeosupport3rr @minni-creations @fos-tis-zois @the-reas0n-is-y0u @cantfeelherface @rxmbzzz @lysaray @zelzablues @str4wbrrycandy @that-goth-bisexual @simping4u @iminlovewqr0w @sharks31 @pseudowho @jisoonunn @outkasti @anathemaspeaks @fushigur0slut4 @barryatsumu @d0nk3y-k0ng @shasaaa15

(some of the tags aren’t working and idk why... sorry about this :( leave a comment to be added for future posts!)

[corroded-hellfire]

As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 10

Written with the help of my beloved @munson-blurbs

Summary: The time comes for the first custody hearing between Eddie and his estranged wife. You do your best to be there for both him and his sons.

Note: I do not know the ins and outs of the legal system, so I did my best when it came to the court scene

Warnings: mentions of bad parents, Brittany, slut shaming, i think that's it?

Words: 9.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

There’s just over a week to go until the first court date and you can tell your boyfriend is on edge. Every time he sees the boys, he’s overly cheerful. You know he’s trying to make it seem like nothing is wrong, but the kids aren’t dumb. They see right through the forced happiness, even confiding in you after school one day about how weird they think Eddie is being. That night you pull him to the side to relay that message—but in much nicer terms.

Since that discussion, Eddie’s been more himself. He still forces himself to be more upbeat around the boys, but that’s more of wanting them to be around positivity and as much light as possible while they continue to struggle with the thought of two separate homes. 

Once the boys are in bed, or are at the house with Brittany, you take advantage of the time alone with your boyfriend. He’s stressed beyond belief, and you want to make damn sure that he knows you’re here for him in whatever way he needs. 

Evenings usually start with dinner, then a movie on the couch, but end up with Eddie’s head on your lap and you play with his hair as he gets things off his mind. Sometimes you just listen, sometimes you speak your mind in reply. 

“I know I’m the better parent,” he tells you one night a few days before the trial. “But I also know that courts usually rule in the mom’s favor. And what if…what if the boys don’t want to be with me most of the time?”

“Why on earth wouldn’t they want that?” you ask. “You know you’re their favorite. Because you are the better parent.”

Eddie squeezes your hand gently where they rest entwined on his chest. 

“I know. But home is familiar to them. It’s the only home Luke has ever known and the only one Ryan remembers. There are memories there, their old rooms are there, their favorite toys. It’s safe and comforting.”

“Do you think it’s going to feel that way with just Brittany around?” you ask in response. “Also, I think you have a double-edged sword there.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you said that the boys have memories there.” With your free hand you gently boop the tip of Eddie’s nose with your index finger. “I’m sure there are memories from that house that the boys would rather forget. Yeah, there are memories of Christmases and birthday parties, but there are also memories of Brittany screaming at them for no reason. Or of times when their mom was supposed to come home for whatever reason, like dinner or a special occasion, but she was late as usual. Here, Ryan and Luke won’t look at the front door and think of all the times they stared at it, waiting for it to open with their mother on the other side. The walls here don’t hold disappointments like the ones at the house do.”

Eddie gazes up at you with those big doe eyes and a charmingly crooked smile.

“My college girl is so smart,” he says softly.

You chuckle in reply and bring a hand up to his hair. Gently, you scratch your nails against his scalp. Eddie hums in appreciation and turns on his side so his face is buried in your belly. He mumbles against the material of your shirt, but you can’t make out what he said.

“What?”

He pulls away just enough for you to hear him.

“I’m scared.” His voice is low, and he keeps eyes on your midsection. 

He’s never said that to you before. You frown as you gently card your fingers through his bangs.

“Of what?” you ask softly. 

Eddie shrugs and you move your hand to cup the side of his face, your thumb gently brushing over his left cheekbone. It feels like the entire apartment complex has gone silent, not a sound to be heard except your breathing. 

“A lot,” he finally admits. “Messing up in court and not getting to see my boys anymore. Brittany lying so viciously that I don’t get to see them anymore. Them deciding they don’t want to stay with me. Putting them in the middle of this and it messing with their heads. Of Brittany trying to turn them against me.” He pauses and chews on his bottom lip, and you know there’s something else that he doesn’t want to say. You don’t want to push him, but you also want to make sure he knows that he can confide in you. 

“What, sweetheart? You know you can tell me anything.”

He sighs and rolls onto his back. You watch the reflection of the ceiling fan spin round and round in his dark misty eyes. After a minute of silence, Eddie reaches up and takes one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to the back of it before he holds it in his own and rests them on his chest.

“I know I can,” he says. “But I know you. And if I tell you that I’m worried that you’re somehow going to get hurt during all of this, you’re just going to tell me not to worry about you. Which, I don’t know if you know this or not, doesn’t really work.”

It's another double-edged sword, that he knows this about you. Because, on the one hand, it feels really good to be known so well and loved so deeply by him. But on the other hand, now you can’t use that reasoning with him, which doesn’t give you much of a leg to stand on. Instead, you come up with another question.

“How do you think I’m going to get hurt?”

A long inhale puffs up Eddie’s chest before a heavy sigh deflates it. 

“I’m worried someone is going to say something dumb on accident. Me or the boys. Or Brittany, only it wouldn’t be an accident. I’d rather you not be near us while all of this is going on, really. But I’m too selfish for that. I need you here with me.” He brings your joined hands up to his lips and presses a few kisses against your knuckles. “You keep me sane when the rest of the world is trying to throw me off my rocker.”

“Eddie, my love,” you begin, “it’s very sweet that you’re thinking about me but I’m not some delicate little flower that will crumble at an unintentionally—or intentionally, in her case—unkind thing that’s said while you’re all going through this. It’s insanely stressful, which can wear down patience sometimes. But I know you love me. I know the boys love me. The three of you would never say something to try and hurt me on purpose. And Brittany? Well, I don’t give a rat’s ass about what she says to me—or about me.”

A small smile grows on Eddie’s face, and you’re relaxed by the sight. He licks over his lips before he speaks.

“You be my rock now, and I promise to be yours from now on. Whenever you need me.”

“Oh, I don’t know if you know what you’re signing up for there, buddy,” you say with a chuckle. 

“You somehow deal with me, a genius little boy who is always rattling off things that he’s learned, a little hellion tornado of a boy, and did I mention me? Princess, if you can handle the three of us, the three of us can be there for you with no problem.”

You gaze down at him with a fond smile on your lips. 

“I feel super honored that you trust me enough to open up,” you tell him in a voice close to a whisper. “I know how lucky I am.”

“I open up to you because I feel safe with you,” he tells you. “It’s weird, I never… This is a new kind of safety for me. Finding safety in another person. I didn’t know this kind of thing existed.”

“Me neither, honestly,” you admit. “It’s a deeper level of trust than I’ve ever had before.” 

“I thank God just about every damn day that you came into my life. And the boys’ lives.”

“Oh, Mr. Religious all of a sudden?” you tease, leaning down so your face is hovering over his.

“Hey,” Eddie says with a chuckle, “I’ll thank whatever being in whatever realm or universe that had us cross paths.”

“Maybe it was aliens,” you joke, widening your eyes in alarm.  

“Then I’ll learn how to thank them in Klingon.”

Your nose wrinkles up, and Eddie thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“Do aliens speak Klingon? Does Spock speak it? Is Spock even an alien?” you ask. 

“Ah, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but my nerd knowledge doesn’t reach quite that far. You’ll just have to be content with me knowing an inordinate amount about D&D creatures.”

You shrug, pretending to consider it.

“I guess I can live with that.”

The long-awaited Monday has finally arrived, and it fills everyone with nerves. Eddie took the whole day off from work, so he takes his time making the boys breakfast and getting them ready for school. 

As the two boys take their seats at the table, Eddie notices Ryan acting a bit more withdrawn than usual. Luke is his usual self, shoving spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth while his short legs swing back and forth beneath the table. Ryan is older and the more sensitive of the two, so Eddie isn’t surprised that he has the better sense of what will be happening today. 

“Whatcha gonna be working on today in school?” Eddie asks his oldest as he plops down between his boys at the table, a full bowl of cornflakes thudding on the table in front of him.

“Oh, uh,” Ryan starts, looking down into his bowl as his spoon stirs marshmallow pieces around, leaving streaks of blue, pink, and green throughout the milk. “We’re reading about Sacagawea.” 

“Ah, alright,” Eddie says between bites of cereal. “She was a pretty cool lady, huh?”

Ryan nods and scoops some oat pieces onto his spoon.

“Who’s Sar…Sarcas…Sarcophagus?” Luke asks through a mouthful of cereal. 

“Sacagawea,” Eddie corrects him with a soft chuckle. “Go ahead, Ry. Tell us what you’ve learned so far.”

“Uh, okay.” He sounds less than thrilled. But when the second grader starts to talk about something interesting he’s learning, he gets excited. “She was a Native American. And she went with Lewis and Clark to explore the west.”

“What makes her so cool?” Luke asks, shoveling in another spoonful.

“She did the whole thing with her newborn baby strapped to her,” Eddie replies.

“And she was only sixteen,” Ryan adds.

“Really?” Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

“She was a mommy at sixteen?”

Eddie thinks Luke’s eyes are going to pop out of his skull. 

“People had babies earlier back then,” Ryan answers, much to Eddie’s relief. He also notices the improvement in Ryan’s mood now that his brain has something else to focus on. 

The more pleasant atmosphere keeps up while the boys get dressed and Eddie packs their lunches. It does feel weird to put on a suit instead of his normal t-shirt and jeans, though. 

“You look funny,” Luke says as his eyes scan over his father’s gray slacks and matching blazer. 

“What else is new?” Eddie jokes, trying to keep the mood light. The white dress shirt tucked into his pants is an odd feeling and all Eddie can focus on is wanting to yank it free.

“Where’s your tie, Mr. Fancy Pants?” Ryan asks as he grabs his lunch off the counter.

Eddie stalls in his movements before turning to face his oldest son.

“Should I wear one?” He feels silly for asking the seven-year-old, but he feels self-conscious now that Ryan pointed it out. 

“I dunno,” Ryan answers with a shrug. “I just thought you’d wear one.”

The first real tick of nervousness hits Eddie now. It irks him that it’s not even about court itself, but whether or not he should wear a tie. He sighs and goes to grab one of the few ties he owns from his dresser. You’ll know if he should wear it or not. 

Instead of waiting for the bus, Eddie says he’s going to drive the kids to school since he has the time. He doesn’t have to be in court until this afternoon and he’s meeting you for coffee after your first class. 

It’s a nice mellow morning and it continues to get better when they’re all loaded up in the truck and Luke turns on the radio. 

“Ah, this song!” The six-year-old’s face lights up and he bops his head along to the beat. “It’s my favorite part!”

Both Ryan and Eddie join in to sing:

Chickity China, the Chinese chicken

You have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin' 

Eddie turns the volume up as the truck approaches a red light. Once they’re completely stopped, Eddie thrashes his head back and forth, headbanging to the song that’s taken over the airwaves. Ryan and Luke both giggle, watching their father’s frizzy curls go flying all around, before joining in and headbanging to “One Week” as well.

The light turns green and Eddie resumes driving responsibly, but that doesn’t mean his boys have to stop headbanging.

It's been one week since you looked at me

Dropped your arms to the sides and said, "I'm sorry"

Five days since I laughed at you and said

"You just did just what I thought you were gonna do.”

Ryan finishes singing out the song while Luke flails his curls around for the remainder of it. It’s perfect timing, as Eddie is pulling into the drop-off lane at school just as the song ends. 

“I’ll see you squirts later, alright? Have a good day at school.”

“Bye, Daddy!” Luke gives Eddie a quick side hug before climbing over his older brother to get out of the car.

“What time are you going to be home?” Ryan asks.

“I’m not sure,” Eddie tells him honestly. “But I’ll definitely be home in time for dinner.”

The boy nods, placated by this answer. He leans in and wraps his arms as far as he can around his dad’s torso.

“I love you,” Ryan says. 

“I love you, too.” Eddie rubs his hand over his son’s back, trying to convey so many thoughts and emotions in the one touch. 

It’s going to be okay.

I’ll see you soon.

I’ll never stop fighting for you.

The moment Eddie sees you tucked away into the corner booth at the small cafe on campus, he feels lighter. Simply being in your presence is enough to melt Eddie’s stresses away. Instead of sitting down across the table from you, Eddie decides to slide into the same booth you’re sitting at and instantly wraps his arms around your waist.

Without looking up from the book you’re reading for your Renaissance Literature class, you say, “If you’re going to feel me up you better hurry, because my boyfriend is on his way.”

“This boyfriend of yours is very lucky,” Eddie murmurs as he leans in to press a kiss to the side of your neck. 

“He is. Especially because I ordered his coffee just the way he likes it.” You shut your book and slide a white paper cup tucked into a brown cardboard sleeve in front of him. 

“You taste better,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss just below your ear.

The feel of his warm breath dancing across your skin coupled with his sultry words sends a shiver down your spine. Eddie notices the little tremor that passes through your body and pulls back with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. 

“Drink your coffee,” you say, trying to will the heat away from your face as you put your book away. The last thing Eddie needs is to be late to court because you can’t keep your legs closed when it comes to him. 

That statement is especially true when you turn and get your first real look at your boyfriend. You’ve never seen him in a suit before and the urge to drag him into the back of your car grows even stronger. 

“Damn, you look good,” you say softly, leaning forward to run your hands over the material of the blazer. 

Eddie does his best to ignore the way your eyes darken and how you bite your lip—but it’s tough. Maybe this suit isn’t so bad after all. 

“Oh,” Eddie says as he remembers the rolled-up tie in his pocket. He fishes it out and holds it up for you to see. “I wasn’t sure if I should wear this or not.”

Your eyes take in the dark red tie, then look back over Eddie’s ensemble. 

“I say yes. It’ll add a nice pop of color, as well.” 

Eddie flips up his collar and slips the tie around his neck. You watch as his deft, guitar-playing fingers fiddle with it until it’s properly knotted. 

“Do you think I should put my hair back?” Eddie asks.

Opposing emotions fight for dominance in your body. One side is getting worked up because he already looks drop dead gorgeous and now he wants to put his hair back in a bun? Is he trying to kill you? But the other side hears the slight shake in his voice and breaks because this poor man is so nervous and unsure. Never more have you wished for a magic wand to wave and make all his problems go away. 

“Want me to tie it back for you, sweetie?”

He nods and you can see a minuscule amount of relief in his eyes. It’s no secret that he loves your hands in his hair, and it always calms him when you play with it. Though you don’t have time for that, you make sure to gently brush his hair back from his face with your fingers before securing it at the base of his neck. 

When he turns back around to face you, he lets out a sigh that has his shoulders sagging.

“I don’t want to go,” he admits quietly. 

“I know.” You reach up and gently cup the side of his face. “But everything is going to be okay. You’re going to tell the judge the truth and he’ll see that you’re the all-around better parent. And I’ll pick up the boys from school like usual and distract them to keep their minds off of what’s happening today. Even if I need to use puppies and candy to do it.”

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and shakes his head.

“Great. Now I get to worry about coming home to a hopped-up Luke begging me to keep a dog.”

You smile at him and lean forward to gently peck his lips.

“You’ve got this, Eddie.”

He takes a deep breath and nods his head.

“I got this.”

Everything echoes. That’s Eddie’s first thought as he steps inside the courthouse. Every footstep, every cough, every conversation bounces off the walls and reverberates in the hollow space of the atrium. Brown eyes take in the gray marble that seems to cover every surface. Towards a hallway to the left, Eddie spots his attorney, which relaxes him and kicks up his nerves at the same time.

“Hey, Carl,” Eddie greets as he approaches the man. He can’t help but notice that his lawyer’s suit looks infinitely more expensive than his own. It makes sense though, given that the man practically gets paid by the hour what Eddie makes in a day.

“How are you, Mr. Munson?” Carl asks as he offers his hand.

Eddie’s told him several times to call him by his first name, but it always reverts back to the more formal. It makes Eddie feel old, though. When he hears “Mr. Munson” he either thinks someone is talking about Wayne or has flashbacks to Ms. O’Donnell scolding him in high school.

“Doing alright,” Eddie replies, but his shaky tone conveys that it’s less than true. 

“Ah, it’s going to be okay,” Carl says, gesturing for Eddie to follow him down a long hallway. “I’ve been in front of Judge Rogers plenty of times and he’s a fair guy. One of the better ones we could’ve asked for.”

Eddie nods his head and takes a deep breath as Carl comes to a stop in front of a set of mahogany double doors. The air in the courtroom is stifling, invading all of his senses. It only gets worse when he takes his seat next to his lawyer. 

Sweat beads at the nape of his neck, and it takes all of his willpower not to yank off his tie right then and there. His slacks—a far cry from his usual cotton coveralls or denim jeans—itch his legs. His dress shoes are laced too tight, squeezing his toes until he feels his pulse in his feet. 

I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this. 

Negativity floods every pore. Eddie shuts his eyes, steadying his breathing with reminders of who this is all for. In—Ryan. Out—Luke. 

Happiness. Peace. Love. Family. 

The room is silent, save for the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall. The secondhand glides past the twelve, signaling that it is now officially one o’clock. Time to begin. A glance at the other side of the courtroom shows that there is no other parent of Ryan and Luke present. 

The mahogany doors open once more and Eddie looks over his shoulder, expecting to see his soon-to-be ex-wife. But the only person walking down to the front of the room is another lawyer, by the looks of his suit. Brittany’s lawyer, presumably. He’s taller and younger than Carl, but Eddie just tells himself that means Carl has more experience on his side.

A heavy door behind the judge’s stand swings open on squeaking hinges and a bailiff steps out, the judge following right behind him.

“All rise,” the bailiff says. There are only three others in the room, so Eddie, Carl, and the third attorney stand as the judge takes his seat. 

“So, we’ve got Eddie Munson, correct?” Judge Rogers looks down at a few pieces of paperwork set in front of him before looking over the top of his bifocals at Eddie. 

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“And it looks like Brittany Munson is not here.” Judge Rogers looks up at the other lawyer for confirmation.

“Um, no Your Honor, I—”

A large bang covers up his next words as the double doors are shoved open. This time when Eddie looks over his shoulder, it is Brittany hurrying into the room. Her usually impeccably styled hair is a little askew. It’s all pulled up into a bun on the back of her head, that she sometimes wears to work. Her outfit is also one of the many skirt and blazer sets that are part of her repertoire for her job at the bank. 

Eddie glances at the clock on the wall again. Maybe this was her lunch break and there was traffic. But as Brittany gets closer, Eddie notices her blouse. It’s a silky pale blue that she’s worn a hundred times, but that’s not what catches his eye. It’s the fact that the blouse is not buttoned up correctly. She either missed a hole or there’s a button not tucked into where it’s supposed to be. 

A low disbelieving chuckle tumbles from Eddie’s mouth at this all-too-common occurrence he became acquainted with during their marriage. The unkempt hair, the disheveled clothes, and the way her face is slightly flushed, and her breathing is a little faster than usual tells Eddie exactly why Brittany is late, and it has nothing to do with work. Unless it was one of her co-workers she was fucking. Hell, Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if she was fucking her lawyer. 

“Nice of you to join us, Mrs. Munson,” the judge grumbles as Brittany takes her spot next to her lawyer.

Ugh, did he have to call her Mrs. Munson? Eddie internally gripes.

“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” Brittany says as she tries to smooth back some loose strands of hair. She offers no explanation or excuse for where she’s been, and Eddie thinks that’s for the better. 

“Alright.” Judge Rogers clears his throat before he smacks his gavel down. “Let’s begin.”

After school today it’s just you, Ryan, and Luke. Karen Wheeler came to pick up the Harrington kids and take them back to her place so your focus could be on the Munson boys. 

Neither brother has said anything about their parents being at court today by the time you get back to Eddie’s apartment, and if they’re not going to bring it up, neither are you. You prepare them a snack while they sit at the kitchen table, starting on their homework. 

It’s not long before the apple slices and peanut butter have disappeared, and the homework has been finished. Luke shoves his work folder back into his book bag and wanders off for a moment before returning with crayons and a small stack of paper. While he’s rummaging through the crayon box, Ryan reaches over and plucks the piece of paper on top of the pile. Instead of reaching over to use some of his little brother’s crayons, Ryan picks up the pencil he used for his homework and presses the tip of it onto the top of the sheet of paper.

“Whatcha doing, Ry?” you ask as you dry off their snack plate that you just washed. 

“Um…” Ryan chews on his lip for a moment before looking up at you. “I wanna write a letter. Actually, can you help me?”

“Of course.” You put the plate away and make your way over to the table. The chair next to the seven-year-old scrapes against the floor as you pull it out to sit. “Who is the letter for?”

The little boy bites at his lip again and it makes you frown. This isn’t a usual habit of his. He avoids your eyes as he looks down at the blank paper, nerves radiating off of his small frame. 

“The judge at court,” he finally says. 

“Oh.” You clear your throat after realizing your pitch was too high. “What do you want to say?”

Ryan sighs and taps the point of the pencil against the paper.

“I don’t like that I can’t go with Daddy and tell the judge how I feel. They’re talking about me and Luke, but Daddy said they might not ask us what we want. I don’t like that.”

The words crack your heart. He feels like he has no control over the situation. and the sad fact is that you can’t tell him that he’s wrong. The court might not ask Ryan and Luke who they want to live with. But Ryan’s determination to have his voice be heard is a testament to how Eddie’s raising him. 

“I’m proud of you,” you tell him, reaching up to move some of his hair off of his forehead. “I know this isn’t easy.”

“I also don’t wanna be there cause I’d be scared,” Ryan admits quietly. 

“That makes complete sense, sweetheart. I think most adults even get nervous in court. I know I would be. Daddy doesn’t like it either. But he would do it over and over again for you both. He’d do anything for you.”

“I know,” he says confidently. 

“Good.” 

Luke’s crayons scratch against his paper, and you look over at him. He’s hunched over the table with his small tongue poking out as the green crayon moves back and forth against the page. He doesn’t seem stressed like his older brother is. You hope that’s really the case though, and he’s not hiding or internalizing his feelings. 

“So,” you say with a sigh, turning to Ryan again, “how do you want to start the letter?”

So far, the hearing isn’t as bad as Eddie thought. For some reason he thought he’d be tripping over his words, not sure how to answer the questions asked of him. But even though it is nerve wracking, it’s pretty easy; all Eddie has to do is tell the truth.

“What is the living situation of the children?” the judge asks.

“They live with me in the house,” Brittany is quick to answer. “Eddie sees them after school sometimes, or on the weekend.”

“I just moved to a new apartment,” Eddie says once Brittany has finished. “And the boys are almost done setting up their rooms the way they like. So, I’ll start having them overnights as well.”

“No, I don’t want that.”

Brittany’s lawyer leans in to whisper something in her ear after the outburst. 

Judge Rogers scribbles something down before moving on to the next question. 

“How are each of you involved in their daily life?”

“I’m very involved,” Eddie makes sure to answer first. “I’m the one who makes them breakfast, moves them along to get ready for school, and gets them out on the bus. I know their favorite toys, games, shows, movies. You name it, I know it. They feel comfortable telling me anything because they know I’m always there for them.”

“He’s also very involved with the babysitter,” Brittany adds.

Eddie’s vision goes red. His hands tighten into fists beneath the table, and he does his best to breathe through his anger. 

Brittany doesn't attempt to add anything further, which Eddie realizes is because there’s nothing much she can contribute. She doesn’t know anything about her own sons and has virtually no part in their everyday routines. 

When the judge realizes there’s nothing else coming from Brittany, he moves on.

“That brings me to my next question, then,” he says. “What third parties are involved in their care?”

“My uncle, who is grandpa to the kids, will watch them sometimes,” Eddie says. “They like to go over and spend the night at his place a lot during the summer because they like to make s’mores over the fire pit. And there’s my best friends, Steve and Nancy, whose kids are best friends with my boys. So, they spend a lot of time there. And my, um, their babysitter. She picks them up from school every day and watches them until either I or Brittany come home from work.”

A witch’s cackle comes from the other side of the courtroom. Fitting, for who it’s coming from. 

“That ‘babysitter’ is the whole reason why we’re in this mess! She’s a little homewrecker who seduced my husband and now they’re shacking up together with my kids there.”

If Eddie thought he was mad before, now he’s in danger of turning into the Hulk. Brittany dares to call you a homewrecker when she’s the one who has been cheating for most of their marriage? When she’s the one who has skipped out on countless family events just to go fuck some other guy? The fact that she even had the audacity to entertain the thought that she might have the higher ground? Eddie’s surprised flames aren’t shooting out of his ears. 

“That isn’t true, Your Honor.” Eddie is doing his best to sound calm, but there’s a noticeable edge to his voice. “I mean, yes, I am involved with the babysitter, but the rest of what she said is a lie.”

Judge Rogers takes his bifocals off and sets them down on the desk in front of him. “Care to elaborate?”

“First of all, this divorce was a long time coming. I don’t mean to get crude, Your Honor, but Brittany has stepped out with countless men while we were married. It was lie after lie, but I knew the truth. And I was relieved when it was very obvious my sons are mine. That is what led us here today.”

“So, did you leave your wife for this babysitter? And are you living together?” Judge Rogers puts his glasses back on and makes another note. 

“No, Your Honor,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “To be perfectly honest, I was at a place of not caring that I was constantly being lied to and cheated on anymore. I became numb and just went through the motions of my life. I didn’t want to break up my boys’ family, so I did nothing. But when I met her—the babysitter, she helped me realize that I deserve better. In my opinion, I was a great husband. I did my best and stuck it out. But it became clear that the atmosphere in the house was too hostile for the boys. I’d rather them have two peaceful homes than one painful one.” Eddie pauses and licks over his lips before continuing. “I briefly stayed with the babysitter while I went through the process of getting my apartment, but the boys never stayed the night there. And the babysitter continues to live in her apartment and I in mine.”

“How do the boys feel about this babysitter?” Judge Rogers asks as he keeps writing. Eddie can’t help but wonder what he’s taking down.

“They love her. In fact, they tried to set her and I up.”

Brittany scoffs but says nothing. Eddie refuses to look in her direction and keeps his focus on the judge. 

Talking about you was relieving. Honestly, a part of Eddie had been afraid that he wouldn’t come off looking good if you got brought up. But he now sees how ridiculous that is, because in the reality of everything, Brittany has no leg to stand on whatsoever when it comes to you. 

“This is a vacation with me and my best buddy.”

“Donald Duck?”

“No, silly, with you!”

A knock on the apartment door distracts you from A Goofy Movie, and you push yourself up off the couch, leaving a gap between the boys as you head to open it. 

Wayne stands on the other side, his hands shoved into the front pockets of his rugged jeans. 

“Hey, darlin’,” he greets.

“Hey, Wayne. Come on in.” You move to the side so the older man can step inside. 

“How they doing?” Wayne asks quietly, nodding his head towards the boys on the couch.

“I think they’re doing alright,” you tell him as you close the door, making sure to keep your voice low as well. “Ryan wanted to write a letter to the judge before. So, we did that, and I think it let him get some of his emotions out. Luke seems like his usual self. I’m just worried he’s bottling it all up.”

Wayne nods his head and lets out a small sigh.

“And how are you doing?” he asks. 

The question catches you off guard. Honestly, you haven’t been thinking about how you’re feeling today. Your focus has been on Eddie and the boys and trying to make things as painless as possible for them. 

“I’m…okay,” you say. “More worried about Eddie and the boys. It affects them more so than me.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect you, hon,” Wayne replies quickly. “You’re part of this family.”

His words cause you to choke on your emotions. He considers you family. He sees that you’re in this for the long haul and that you really do love and care for all of them. 

You force yourself to swallow and take a deep breath. It’s like Wayne’s words also gave you permission to feel your feelings about this whole ordeal. The front you had been putting up for Eddie and the boys was up so consistently that a part of you forgot that you had your own fears and worries deep down. Now, with the turn of a key, they all flood your head, dizzying you as you hold onto the back of a kitchen chair for balance.

“How can I support him?” you ask, voice soft and wobbly. “What if I somehow make him feel worse?”

Wayne’s eyebrows raise as he looks at you. Luke lets out a chuckle over where he’s watching the movie on the couch still, so Wayne gestures for you to follow him into the kitchen. 

“Darlin’, I don’t think you could do anything but make Ed feel better. You seen the way he lights up when you walk in a room? All you gotta do is be there for him. Ask him how he is. Listen to him. Nothing special, just what you’ve been doing for him all along.” 

“Well, that’s easy,” you say.

Wayne smiles and you tilt your head in question.

“It might seem a simple thing to you…but Ed ain’t had that kind of support in a relationship before. He ain’t been able to open up and talk freely. I remember he learned real quick to keep how he was feeling to himself when he started dating her. It broke me, but what could I do? He was dumb and in love. If I said anything ‘bout it, I would’ve lost my relationship with him and I wasn’t about to do that. But, hell, I saw him be open and comfortable with you practically from day one. You’ve always been willing to lend an ear and somethin’ inside of him picked up on that right away. Hon, by just being his friend you gave him more than his own wife did. It’s just who you are. And it’s part of why everyone in this home loves you so much.”

It’s impossible to see Wayne clearly through the tears that have pooled in your eyes. You refuse to let them fall, not wanting the boys to see even a hint of a tear track on your face. But your heart is so full it feels like it could burst. Somehow Wayne always knows the right thing to say. You’ve been grateful from the start that the man took Eddie in after everything went to hell with his parents, but it’s so obvious that was the best thing for Eddie for a myriad of reasons. No one could have raised him better or taken care of him more. 

“Thank you, Wayne.”

“It’s nothing, darlin’,” he says with a shake of his head. “I should be thanking you. For loving my boy the way he’s always deserved. All my boys.” He looks over to the couch where Ryan is sound asleep, and Luke looks to be in a losing battle with the sandman himself. 

“That’s something you never have to thank me for,” you tell him. “It’s the greatest pleasure of my life.”

As many times as Eddie got in trouble as a kid, he’s never been interrogated by the police before. Never had one of those moments you see on television where someone sits in an uncomfortable metal chair as a light shines in their face bright enough to burn their retinas. But sitting here, answering question after question for the judge, starts to feel like an interrogation after a while. Eddie could talk about his boys all day and night, but this was mostly talking about himself when it comes to the boys. He’s starting to feel over it all. But he keeps pressing through, always thinking of those two sweet faces at home anytime he wants to throw in the towel. 

“What are each parent’s plans for housing and stability loving forward?” Judge Rogers asks.

“I’m in the house,” Brittany reiterates, a smug tinge to her words. “With the yard and the pool.”

“Will you be able to remain there with solely your income?” The judge follows up.

Brittany’s mouth opens but no sound comes out. It tickles Eddie, but he manages to keep the smile off his face as he looks across the room at his ex. 

“I, u-um…” Brittany stutters. 

She’s got nothing, Eddie realizes. He knows her finances very well, having shared bills with her for the last decade. The mortgage took up most of their combined incomes every month, so Eddie knows there’s no way she can afford to stay there without him. 

“I’ll be able to remain there for a time,” Brittany finally says. “I’ll find a way to make it work.”

Eddie has to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand, leaving little crescent moon shapes behind, so he doesn’t burst out laughing. Brittany’s not going to get a second job. She hates the first one enough as it is. All Eddie can think of “making it work” meaning is finding a sugar daddy, winning the lottery, robbing the bank she works at, or maybe borrowing money from her parents. Or a worst case scenario would be Brittany’s sister Sandy and her bratty kids moving in with her. 

“Mr. Munson?”

“As I’ve said, I have a new apartment. It’s now all fully furnished, all unpacked, and the boys have their rooms.” Eddie hates how repetitive this all is. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s mentioned his apartment, and he’s sure the judge knows it by now as well, but Eddie understands there are procedures that need to be followed. No matter how annoying they are. 

“Are there any concerns about the safety or well-being of the children in either home?” Judge Rogers asks, looking back and forth from Eddie to Brittany over the rim of his glasses. 

“I have reason to believe the boys are better off with me, due to Eddie’s drinking.”

This time Eddie almost succumbs to his rage. Brittany lying and the judge believing her was one of his worst fears, and here she is trying to do just that. Eddie can’t remember the last time he had a hard drink, only a beer or two after work. And actually, now that he’s thinking about it, he isn’t sure when he last had a beer. After moving into his apartment, he thinks. A bunch of them drank beer with the pizzas they had once the work was done. But a moment of clarity leads Eddie to a realization. He used to come home every night and have a beer. Now, it occurs to him that he hasn’t had a beer after work in a number of weeks. Because he doesn’t need one to deal with Brittany. He doesn’t need to attempt to numb himself to the horrible woman he was living with. Now he comes home to you. He can hug you, kiss you, talk with you. There’s something to be excited for when he comes home, now. You and his boys. 

“Drinking?” Judge Rogers asks her.

“Yes, Your Honor. Eddie drinks every night.”

“Is this true, Mr. Munson?”

“No,” Eddie responds confidently. “I used to have a beer or two when I’d come home from work, but that hasn’t happened in at least a month. And it was never more than one or two beers. I have never been drunk in front of my boys, but Brittany is not able to say the same.”

“Is this true, Mrs. Munson?”

“No,” she lies reflexively. The boys may have been too young to realize that’s what was going on with their mom, but it was most certainly the case. 

Eddie catches a quiet sigh from the judge as he jots down another note. It causes some of his nerves to flutter back in.

“Any other concerns about safety or well-being?”

“Perhaps you should mention how your upbringing has caused you to prioritize the safety of your boys,” Carl says softly to Eddie. 

He nods and clears his throat before speaking.

“Your Honor, I lived in an unsafe environment with my parents when I was young. Thankfully, I was placed with my uncle instead, which is the best possible place I could have been. I’ve lived and seen the difference between a home that has the well-being of children prioritized and one that doesn’t. It taught me how to make sure that my boys are always safe. Not just child-proofing the space or taking them to the doctor, but also by making sure they know how loved they are and that they can make mistakes and everything will be okay. That my love is unconditional, and I’ll always be on their side.”

“Would you say Mrs. Munson has those same priorities?” Judge Rogers asks.

“No.” Eddie didn’t even need to consider the question. He has so many examples on the tip of his tongue that if he told them all, they’d be there for days. “There have been instances of Brittany hiding the fact that our son Luke was sick from me, then taking him out of state just so her plans weren’t canceled. Both boys have also made remarks to me about knowing their mother does not care about them.”

“The boys have a preference?” Judge Rogers asks.

“Yes. They’ve both informed me that they’d prefer to be with me.”

“I don’t believe that,” Brittany immediately snaps back. 

“Feel free to ask them,” Eddie responds without looking in her direction. 

Carl nods at Eddie, letting him know he’s doing a good job. It comforts Eddie, but more than anything, he wishes for this to be over already. 

Thankfully, it’s only a short time later that the judge wraps things up.

“Alright, let’s get to the temporary custody arrangement,” he says. “What is the arrangement between the two of you now?”

“The babysitter,” Brittany begins, the acidity emphasized on your title, “brings them either to my house or the apartment, depending on our schedules.”

“Okay, we’ll keep it that way from now on, then,” Judge Rogers declares. “It’ll be fifty-fifty custody right now. Between the two of you, look at your schedules and decide how you’ll split the time. Weekends are also fifty-fifty, which can either be one parent with them on Saturday and one on Sunday, or both days with a single parent every other weekend.”

The arrangement doesn’t thrill Eddie, but he’s mostly relieved that Brittany didn’t get primary physical custody. He can live with this back and forth right now if he has to. 

Court is dismissed shortly after, and Eddie breathes a sigh of relief as he steps outside. The stuffiness of the courthouse disappears, and Eddie feels he can take a deep breath for the first time since entering earlier this afternoon. 

“Okay, let’s figure this out.”

Eddie looks behind him to see Brittany approaching him, her lawyer not exiting the building with her.

“Okay.” The familiar feeling of wanting to rip Brittany’s head off is right below the surface, but Eddie knows he has to keep things civil. 

“Why don’t you come back to the house, and we’ll talk about it? Since the boys are at the apartment.”

There’s a glimmer in her eye that instantly makes Eddie uncomfortable. Going back to the house with her? With them being the only two there? His stomach roils at the thought. Eddie has absolutely no trust in this woman whatsoever, and he wouldn’t put it past her to try something when they’re alone. Whether she tries to seduce him or uses the period of time to later claim that he harmed her in some way, Eddie isn’t risking it. He also wants to spend the least amount of time possible with her.

“Why don’t we go to a diner or something?” Eddie offers instead.

Brittany stares at him for a moment before rolling her eyes. It’s clear she’s irritated, but is she really dumb enough to think Eddie would fall for whatever is going on in that twisted mind of hers?

“Whatever,” Brittany scoffs. “I’ll do Monday to Wednesday morning, and you can do Wednesday night to Friday.”

The fact that she already had a plan in her back pocket only enforces Eddie’s idea that she wanted him to come back with her for another reason. 

“Weekends we’ll do by ear? Depending on if you work Saturdays or not,” Eddie says.

“Fine. Have your tramp drop them off at the house tomorrow.”

“Brittany…” Eddie seethes.

“Bye.” She gives him a small wave over her shoulder, throwing him an over-the-top smile before heading towards her car. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mumbles to himself as he heads towards his car in the opposite direction. “How did I ever love that bitch?”

As much as Eddie is yearning to see you and the boys, he knows he needs some time to cool off before going home. He takes a detour to visit the man who has the best track record of talking him down off the ledge.

“None of that surprises me, sadly,” Wayne says once Eddie finishes filling him in on the hearing. 

Eddie rolls out his neck, trying to dispel some of the tension as he stretches out on the couch next to his uncle.

“What do I do?” Eddie asks, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice. “How am I supposed to refute every goddamn lie she tells?”

“You just tell the truth,” Wayne says simply. “You got nothing to hide. Everyone knows you’re better for the boys, all you gotta do is let the judge see it, too.”

“How the hell did you go through this for me?” Eddie rubs his hands over his face and lets out a long sigh.

“Yeah, well, at least Al had the decency not to fight me tooth and nail.”

Eddie chuckles. “At eleven, I never thought I’d be happy about that. But thank God.”

“I know what ya need.” Wayne smacks Eddie’s thigh before pushing himself up and walking into the small kitchen.

“Oh, Wayne, no beer,” Eddie says. “Don’t wanna touch the shit at all, now.”

“I’m not getting you beer, ya dingbat,” Wayne teases, making Eddie smile. 

The older man grabs two mugs off the wall–an old army one and Eddie’s favorite Garfield one. Wayne pulls a glass bottle of YooHoo out of the fridge and pops open the lid. Eddie laughs as he gets up and goes to join his uncle near the refrigerator. 

“Your favorite as a kid,” Wayne says as he pours half the bottle into each mug.

“Luke’s favorite now,” Eddie adds.

“What, you think I have this here for me?” Wayne asks as he tosses the empty bottle into the trash. 

“Eh, you’re a kid at heart,” Eddie says, picking up the orange cat mug. 

“Here’s to the best outcome we could hope for,” Wayne says as he raises his cup. 

“Brittany getting eaten by the Loch Ness Monster?” 

Wayne snorts a laugh and shakes his head. 

“Sounds good to me. Hopefully the judge can sentence her to that.”

“Here’s hoping.”

Eddie clinks his mug against his uncle’s and they both down the chocolate milk. 

The pots and pans clatter together as you pull out the skillet to get started on dinner. Just as your hand reaches for the dial to turn on the burner, the front door opens. You immediately set the pan down and march right over to Eddie. Without saying a word, you wrap your arms around his middle and pull him into a hug.

A small smile grows on his lips as he returns your embrace. He hums softly as he closes his eyes and rests his head against yours.

“How’d you know I needed this?” he asks quietly.

“Lucky guess,” you mumble against his shoulder. 

He pulls back, but you don’t let go of him. Your hands rest on his waist, below the blazer, as he drops his wallet and keys on the counter. His back arches and stretches as he shrugs out of the blazer and tosses it onto a barstool. 

“What did you and the munchkins get up to today?” he asks, wrapping his arms around you again.

“Y’know,” you say with a shrug. “I let them bungee jump, then skydive, and then they ate their weight in Pixy Stix.”

“I figured.” He places a kiss on your forehead.

“Daddy!” Ryan runs in the room and takes advantage of the small space between you and his father to wriggle in. But when you try to step away to let the little boy have his father all to himself, Ryan catches your hand and keeps you there with the two of them. “What happened today?”

“Just answered a bunch of questions,” Eddie tells him, reaching up to ruffle his sandy hair. 

“Did Mom go?”

“She did.” Eddie nods. “We talked with the judge and with each other. Everyone just wants to make sure you and Luke are happy.”

Ryan looks over his shoulder at you, then back to his father.

“Can I show you my letter?”

“Letter?” Eddie asks, brow furrowing.

“Ry wanted to write a letter to the judge,” you explain, resting your hands on the seven-year-old’s shoulders.

“I’d love to read it,” Eddie tells him.

The little boy slips out from between the two of you and goes to pick up the piece of paper on the kitchen table. He comes back and silently hands it to Eddie.

Dear Judge,

My name is Ryan Wayne Munson, and I am Eddie’s oldest son. I am seven years old and my brother Luke is five. I know we are young and sometimes grown-ups don’t listen to kids, but I wanted to share how I feel anyway. My daddy is the best man in the world, and he loves me and Luke more than anyone else in the world. We are always happier when we are with him than with our mom. Our mom has missed lots of things in mine and Luke’s lives. I had a Christmas concert last year and she didn’t show up at all, even though I had a solo and was very excited. But Daddy made sure I got there on time and told me how good I was and how proud he is of me. He always makes sure to tell me that. And he tells Luke, too. 

I don’t want to live at the house with my mom. I want to live at the house with my daddy, but I know he does not live there anymore. Even though I love my first room and my house, I would rather live with Daddy anywhere. I have a cool new room at his apartment and Daddy worked hard to help make it special for me. 

I am writing this letter while you are having your first meeting with my mom and dad. I had some help with spelling and punctuation, but the words are all mine. I would be scared to come to court and talk, but if it meant that I would get to live with my daddy, I would do it. I know Luke would too. I hope this letter helps you make your decision.

Love,

Ryan

Eddie can’t help but smile through his tears at the endearing “love” signoff. That’s Ryan in a nutshell; always spreading love. 

The words have restored Eddie’s exhaustion and fill his drained soul. 

Small arms wrap around Eddie and large brown eyes look up at him.

“Why are you crying, Daddy?” Ryan asks.

“Because that was a really sweet letter, Ry.”

The older brother doesn’t get a chance to respond as Luke rushes into the room and runs head-first into his dad.

“Daddy! Can we get ice cream for dinner?”

“After dinner?” Eddie suggests, arching an eyebrow.

“No,” Luke pouts, “because then I’ll be too full.”

Eddie playfully rolls his eyes as he lets out a laugh. 

“You earned yourself an extra piece of broccoli with dinner tonight, kid,” he tells his son.

Luke lets out a growl and sticks his tongue out at Eddie. Eddie sticks his tongue right back out at the five-year-old, who giggles in response.

“Oof,” Eddie grunts as he scoops Luke up and throws him over his shoulder. “What do you say we order pizza? Hmm? Have a movie night?”

“Yes!” Luke cheers.

“Can we watch Hook?” Ryan asks. 

“Sounds great,” Eddie says, rubbing his hand over Ryan’s hair. 

You watch as the three of them head towards the couch. It’s impossible not to smile as Eddie plops Luke down on the cushions and flops down next to him. The youngest Munson laughs as Eddie rolls on top of him and laughs even harder when Ryan gets on top of the pile of boys. 

Tears begin to fill your eyes as you reach for the telephone. You sniff and blink them away as you scan the fridge for the magnet with the pizzeria’s phone number on it. Hearing the three of them laugh as they roughhouse is a balm to your heart after the stress of the day. Unfortunately, this is just the beginning of the journey to keep these boys where they belong, but as long as there is laughter and love at the end of days like today, you think it won’t be so bad after all. 

[psychoticfemmm]

waves and whispers

pairing: Rafe Cameron x Maybank!reader

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and violet. The salty breeze swept through your hair as you walked barefoot along the shore, the cool water lapping gently at your feet. The beach was quiet, save for the rhythm of the waves and the distant cry of seagulls. It felt like you had the whole world to yourself.

Well, almost.

You could feel Rafe’s presence beside you—warm, familiar, and undeniably close. He had been quiet for a while now, just walking at your pace, hands stuffed into his pockets as he stole glances your way when he thought you weren’t looking.

“What?” you asked, laughing softly, catching him in the act.

Rafe grinned, the kind of smile that made your stomach do flips. “Nothing,” he teased, but the look in his eyes said otherwise.

“Uh-huh. Sure,” you replied, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. The two of you had spent the entire day together—swimming, joking around, and lounging under the sun. But now, as the day faded into night, something about the air felt different. Charged.

“Come here,” Rafe suddenly said, his voice quieter now.

Before you could question him, he took your hand gently in his, pulling you just a little closer. The world around you seemed to blur—the golden sky, the whispering waves, the fading sun—and all you could focus on was him. His blue eyes held you there, soft yet intense, like he was trying to memorize every detail about you.

“Rafe,” you whispered, your heart racing.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, his hand came up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, his fingers grazing your skin and sending chills down your spine. You felt the heat of him, so close now, and your breath hitched as his gaze dropped to your lips.

“I’ve wanted to do this all day,” he murmured, so low you barely caught it.

And then he kissed you.

It was soft at first, his lips capturing yours gently, like he was savoring the moment. But as you leaned into him, your arms wrapping around his neck, the kiss deepened. Rafe’s hands settled on your waist, pulling you flush against him as the waves crashed softly at your feet. The whole world melted away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, fleeting moment.

“What the hell?!”

The voice cut through the moment like a knife, and you froze, pulling back from Rafe with wide eyes. You knew that voice.

JJ.

Your older brother stood a few yards away, his expression a mixture of disbelief, anger, and… yeah, mostly anger. His blonde hair was windblown, his hands clenched into fists as he took a step forward.

“JJ—” you started, your cheeks burning.

JJ pointed a finger at Rafe, his eyes narrowing into a glare. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Him? You’re kissing Rafe Cameron?”

Rafe tensed beside you, his jaw clenching. “Back off, Maybank,” he muttered, trying to stay calm, but you could feel the tension radiating from him.

JJ let out a bitter laugh, completely ignoring Rafe’s words. “Oh, I’m sorry—am I interrupting your little romantic moment?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but his eyes were locked on you now, disappointment flashing through them. “What are you doing with him? Of all people, Y/N?”

“JJ, it’s not what it looks like,” you stammered, though even you knew how ridiculous that sounded. It was exactly what it looked like.

JJ scoffed, shaking his head. “Not what it looks like? I just saw you two practically swallowing each other’s faces!”

You groaned, embarrassed beyond belief. Rafe, however, stepped forward, his voice steady but low. “You don’t need to talk to her like that, Maybank.”

JJ turned his glare on Rafe, squaring his shoulders. “And you don’t need to be anywhere near her.”

“JJ, stop!” you said sharply, stepping between the two of them before things could escalate. “You don’t get to decide who I spend my time with.”

JJ’s expression faltered just slightly, his anger giving way to something softer—protectiveness. “I’m your brother, Y/N. It’s my job to look out for you. And this guy?” He shot another glare at Rafe. “He’s bad news.”

Rafe let out a humorless laugh behind you. “Classic.”

“Rafe,” you muttered, giving him a warning look before turning back to your brother. “You don’t have to like him, JJ, but you do have to trust me.”

JJ stared at you for a long moment, torn between his instincts and his trust in you. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t like this. At all. But fine. I trust you. Not him.”

He shot one last glare at Rafe before turning on his heel. “You’re lucky she’s here to stop me,” he muttered as he walked off down the beach.

The tension hung heavy in the air as JJ’s figure disappeared in the distance, leaving just you and Rafe once more. You let out a shaky breath, turning to face him.

“Well,” you said, trying to lighten the mood, “that went great.”

Rafe smirked, shaking his head as he tucked his hands back into his pockets. “You really think that’s the worst reaction I’ll get? I’m just getting started with the Maybank family drama, aren’t I?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “You have no idea.”

Rafe grinned, pulling you close again. “Worth it,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

And somehow, despite the chaos that had just unfolded, you couldn’t help but agree.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Soulmates (Rorona Zoro x Fem!reader)

A/N: Hi :) -Val

Words: 2, 197

“I don't believe in that bullshit,” Zoro grunts and takes a sip of his sake bottle. 

Nami and Usopp nod in agreement. 

“Wait, I don’t get it,” Luffy says with a frown. “How does it work?” 

“The story says that we all have one person who completes us in every way,” they all look at Robin. “It’s like you’ve found the perfect piece of meat, Luffy,” she smiles at him knowing his language. 

Luffy’s eyes grow in awe understanding the meaning of soulmates. 

The kitchen stays silent as the rain outside drops hard. 

“But, do you eat that person?” Luffy asks again, making Chopper and Usopp laugh. 

“No, Captain,” Robin giggles. “This person helps, protects, loves, and takes care of you. The connection is mutual. They say you feel attracted to that person even if you don’t know who they are. It’s beyond being a nakama, friend, lover, or protector.” 

“And how can you find them?” Chopper asks. 

“Everyone has a birthmark and your soulmate has the same as you,” Robin continues. “The legend says that destiny would reunite you two at some point in life.” 

Chopper and Luffy gasp. 

“Yeah, that sounds lovely and magical, too bad it’s just a legend and it isn’t real!” Nami exclaims.  

“What?” Chopper, Luffy, and now Sanji squeak in shock. 

“Nami-swan!? You don’t believe in soulmates?” The blond looks at her half-offended half-disillusioned. 

Nami shrugs. “I’ve seen so many people get disappointed when they can't find their ‘soulmate’.” 

“Hang on! I don’t think I have the mark,” says Luffy looking at every part of his rubber body. 

“Oh! It’s on the back of your left ankle,” Chopper points. “I thought it was just a spot, but...” he hums “It looks like a banana, actually,” he giggles. 

“What!? Really?” Luffy raises his leg and stretches it to find his birthmark. He laughs excitedly. 

“What about you, Usopp?” Chopper looks at him. “Do you believe in soulmates?” 

“Uuuh!” Luffy exclaims. “Is that girl from your home island your soulmate?” 

“Usopp’s face flushed in embarrassment as he crossed his arms. “Who? Kaya? I-I don’tI mean–” he stutters.  

“She doesn’t have to be his soulmate to be with him,” Zoro adds, rolling his eyes. 

“She’s not my–” Usopp squeaks. “I mean, we aren’t–It was just a kiss, it doesn’t–” he keeps trying to explain nervously. 

“See? Usopp found his soulmate!” Robin points with a smile. 

“What!? You’re not listening. I’m telling you that she’s not!” 

“I personally and fiercely believe in soulmates,” Sanji interrupts while he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt on his left arm. He shows them his mark in the form of a knife. “I know they exist somewhere and,” he smirks, “they’re giving me another reason to keep living and keep looking for them,” he says proudly. 

Zoro scoffs and chuckles shaking his head. “Still bullshit, no matter how hard you try to decorate it, cook.” 

Sanji frowns and looks at him. “These are facts, no matter how you make it sound, Moosehead. Even you have one. I don’t know how it could be possible, though...” he murmurs the last thing. 

Zoro groans. “Nothing’s fucking written or is out there. Nobody tells me what to do or who I have to be with. You can be with whomever you want, whenever you want, it’s stupid to waste time searching for a silly birthmark that could be just a fucking spot or scar on your skin,” Everyone looks at the swordsman when his tone increases and his body tenses as he talks. His lousy posture on the chair changes to a straightened one, and the veins around his muscles pop. 

“Wow, I think we’ve stroked a nerve there, uh Zoro?” Nami says unsure. 

Her voice makes him clear his head. Zoro sighs and returns to his sake. “I just think it’s a stupid thing to believe...” he shrugs. 

Nami hums and nods. She then looks at you. “What about you, Y/N?” But she stops and frowns as you give a start. “You’ve been oddly quiet about this,” The redhead looks down to your right arm, which is strongly grabbed by your other hand. 

“Well,” you clear your throat as you leave alone your upper arm, realizing Nami’s worried sight. “I’m not sure if it’s real or not,” you try to sound chill but fail. 

Nami is the only one who reads you, although she doesn’t know why you’re acting like that, she helps you by changing the subject to distract the others. 

Your friend’s voices fade away as your mind clouds in many thoughts. Instinctively, you grab your right arm again. On your inner bicep, there is tinted skin since birth, your soulmate’s mark, which you found not so long since you joined the straw hats crew, it’s the same form of three bamboo sticks that Zoro has tattooed on his left pectoral. 

 ** 

It has always been hard for Zoro to connect with other people. He calls himself a loner, but situations in life make him change that. First was his friend Kuina; although she passed away, he learned a lot thanks to her. Like Loyalty, keeping promises and love.  

Then, Luffy jumped into his life and, in Luffy’s style, he shook Zoro’s mind with new lessons. As his crew got bigger, Zoro learned the real meaning of being a nakama. His trust grew with the straw hats (within his limits, of course). 

Finally, you came along the way, a person Zoro never thought he needed until he had you. It all happened so naturally for him, to follow every movement you made, to look for you, to search your voice and laughter, and to hold your smaller hand. 

If the others knew deep into his thoughts, they’d understand why he snapped at the idea of soulmates. He’s confident that his life is based on his strengths, decisions, and his guts. Magic or anything else didn’t do it. Him and only him. And maybe, that’s why he got distracted when Nami changed the subject so quickly and he hasn’t thought about it ever since. For now, he has more important things to care about… like you acting weird, avoiding and hiding from him and he doesn’t know why. 

He has learned to give you time sometimes, but he senses something different, and it has been five days since you two had a real conversation. “You’ve been avoiding me.” 

“You should be at the market,” you answer without looking at him. You don’t stop in your tracks either. “Lost again?” 

He scoffs rolling his eyes (yes, he got lost). “I’m worried,” he says in a serious tone. 

“You shouldn’t, I’ll help you.” 

“Hey,” he grabs your wrist and makes you turn to him. Your eyes fidget everywhere else but him. “What’s wrong?” 

“What?” 

“Don’t bullshit me,” he warns then, he sighs relaxing his features, then grabs your chin and makes you look at him. “Why don’t you want to talk?” 

You sigh stepping away from his hand. “It’s nothing,” you whisper. 

Zoro doesn’t think twice about grabbing your waist and pulling you to him in a big hug. You gasp at the sudden movement, but your body recognizes his warmth and strength, so you melt against him. You hide your face on his broad chest as you feel his lips on your hair. He hugs you for a while, humming and caressing your hips. 

“I thought, I was the one with the communication issues, don’t take my place now,” You can feel his stupid smirk as you scoff rolling your eyes. 

As always, his touch and voice relax your mind and body and the anxiety fades a little. You step back and raise your head to look at him. 

“There you are,” he smiles. He caresses your cheek as you prepare yourself to confess. 

You aren’t sure exactly why you are so afraid. It's not like Zoro’s gonna change, right? But the unknown terrifies you, that’s why you haven’t told him in all this time since you found out. And after that soulmate’s talk the other day, the anxiety kicks in instantly. 

“Th-the other night…uh- Y-you said that. I mean…ugh!” You grunt. “Is- is that what you… of soulmates?” You make a face. 

Zoro takes a moment to remember and then, he gets it. “Is that what’s all about? That legend? You believe in it, don’t you?” He frowns. 

Your heart sinks. “I- I know...” you want to talk about your birthmark, but he interrupts you with another big hug.  

“It’s okay, Doll,” he shrugs “I don’t care if you do.” 

You frown. “But Zoro I–” you try to talk against his chest. 

“I knew what I was getting into when we started dating.” 

“What?” You lean back.  

“Yeah,” he smirks looking down at you “I knew you were crazy since you joined the crew anyway,” he shrugs.  

“What!? Hey!” You punch his chest as he bursts into laughter. “You fucking idiot,” you said incapable to hide your smile. 

The goofy moment is gone when you both hear an explosion not so far from the Sunny. 

** 

When you open your eyes, you see Chopper’s office. You try to move, but there’s a sharp pain on your left shoulder that makes you whine. 

“Hey, stop. You’ll open the wound!” Zoro helps you to get more comfortable on the med bed and he gives you some water. 

“W-what happened?” You ask with a groan. 

“You did a stupid, reckless thing. That’s what happened,” he groans. 

“What?” 

“The Marines almost caught you,” he clenches his jaw. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead.” 

The memory flashes in your mind, you helped Nami and Robin fight against the Marines, but you got distracted for a second and then nothing. Zoro sits on a chair next to you, but then Chopper enters and climbs on your bed. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks, voice and face in serious doctor mode. 

“It hurt,” you smile at the adorable doctor. 

“I’ll give you stronger pain killers,” he moves naturally around his office and back to you, checking your wounds. “All right, you have to rest in bed, no excuses!” he warns you. “And I’ll help you clean your wounds, after that Zoro can do it.” 

Zoro nods. “Anything else, Doctor?” He smirks at him. 

“Hmmm…” Chopper thinks. “Ah! Yes! Why you didn’t tell us that you two are soulmates?” He asks innocently. 

“Uh?” Zoro frowns. You try to warn him with your eyes, but Chopper only frowns at you.  

“She has the same mark as you!” He exclaims happy, but then, he senses something odd and stutters looking between you and Zoro as he gets nervous. “Uh… maybe I’m wrong?” He laughs awkwardly. 

“It can happen to anybody, Chopper,” you continue with a tense smile. 

Both of you laugh, then somebody calls to Chopper and he runs away. 

“Well, I think I’m kinda hungry, Zoro,” you try to sound like nothing happened but you look at the swordsman. His body stays tense on the chair and his eyes are glued to somewhere in the room. “Zoro?” You wait for a while, getting worried. You grab his hand. “Zoro?” 

“Where?” He asks. 

“Uh?” 

His eyes return to you. “Where is it? Is it–Is it true?” 

You sigh as you carefully move the sheet that covers your body. Your upper body’s wrapped in just bandages and a thin top covering your breasts, but you turn a little and hiss when you raise your right arm enough to show him the three bamboo sticks. Zoro stands up and leans to softly grab your arm as his other hand traces the mark on his chest.  

He lets go and sits again. “That’s why you avoided me,” he says to himself. “The things I said… but you are… the mark...”  

“Are you broken?” You ask him, and he looks at you. Zoro notices your teary eyes and worried expression. 

It’s a lot to process for him. A minute ago, he was angry because he couldn’t protect you enough to prevent your wounds, now he has discovered that the bullshit he always listened to it’s real and in front of him… all this time. Out of nowhere, Zoro chuckles and shakes his head. 

“Oh, no...” you whine. “I did break you!” 

“I-fuck, now everyone’s gonna mock me,” he grunts looking at you. His cheeks flush as he raises a hand to clean a tear dropping out. “I’m sorry.” 

“Wh-why?” 

“For saying those things, now I understand I...” he sighs. “Well, now I get why I always wanted to be at your side,” he makes a face and you couldn’t help but chuckle. You’re still confused but relieved at the same time, you never expected that reaction, but it's better. 

“It wasn’t ‘cause I’m the most beautiful girl?” You tease. He laughs. 

“Yeah, that too,” he takes your hand and kisses it. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner… I thought...” 

“No, it’s okay,” he nods. “It’s better this way, at least in my head I fell for ya’ ‘cause I wanted to.”  

You smile. “Me too. The tattoo was something extra.” 

He chuckles and leans to kiss you. 

Taglist.

@sosactrl @irethepotato

[lurochar]

First Rut, With You

A short drabble based on the Rut Stuff headcanons

Warnings: None

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

This wouldn’t do.

You hummed cheerfully, completely unaware of the darkening eyes watching you from the shadows.

Oh, he couldn’t have this.

He could feel his eyes begin to blacken and the itch in his antlers somehow felt even worse than it did at the peak of his previous ruts.

You could, and should, be held responsible for bringing about such an irritating change in him. He never had to deal with these absurd urges before.

Rutting season had been nothing more than just a minor inconvenience, a month where he felt a little less patience and more aggression than he usually would – an easy fix, a little extra slaughter always soothed his ruffled fur.

Well, until you showed up in his (after)life and somehow managed to make yourself quite charming to someone like himself.

He had never imagined finding a partner would change the physical aspect of his rut month so much, it even seemed to awaken some sort of deep instinctual part of him that Alastor didn’t realize he possessed.

You needed to make it up to him for making him feel this way.

~00~

“My little Doe~”

You almost screeched, hearing the static and the filtered voice only after you felt a touch on your hand come from below and you stumbled, still not used to Alastor’s mastery of shadows that he liked to regularly abuse to scare the living shit out of you.

“Hmm, how are you this hellish afternoon?” Alastor asked in his usual chipper tone, eyes quickly drawn to what was in your hand and his grin tensed and twitched on one side. “What is that monstrosity?”

He was well aware demons were stopping and staring, whispering to each other, probably in shock that the Radio Demon was having a casual and cordial conversation with a Sinner who wasn’t a fellow Overlord.

Let them talk for a few minutes – he’ll be taking their worthless eyeballs for daring to gawk at you in a few moments anyways. 

You patted your chest a few times, feeling a little heavy as you barely managed to swallow down your mouthful before you choked on it. “I’m still not used to that. How am I still not used to that?” You said under your breath and Alastor’s smile twitched once more, his mind jumbled and completely out of control.

His patience wasn’t exactly all there, (maybe you didn’t know that), you shouldn’t ignore him like that, your attention should be on him, so answer his question, whywereyoueatingthat, HECOULDPROVIDEYOUWITHBETTER–

“What is that?” Alastor repeated with gritted fangs, not liking that he did have to repeat himself to begin with and you snapped out of your shadow-induced shock, glancing at the thing-that-shouldn’t-even-be-called-food in your hand.

“It’s just a dough–” You started, reeling back in surprise when Alastor knocked your treat out of your hand like a naughty cat knocking things off a table and you’re just baffled at the sheer child-like pettiness of it, “–nut…” You finish, simply staring at your fallen doughnut on the ground.

Huh.

“I admit I have no fondness for sweets,” Alastor doesn’t like you looking at that damn doughnut with those pretty doe eyes of yours, especially with that disappointment, “but if you are craving a sweet treat, I am capable of making beignets at the very least.”

It’s the only dessert recipe of his mother’s that he can replicate, he was never one for baking.

“Alastor,” you quickly forget about the doughnut when you look back at Alastor, “are you… feeling okay?” You asked in concern, quickly noting he was not his normal self.

His antlers were a little larger than normal, he looked all around irritated, his eyes were flickering between black and red, and his pupils were spinning as if they couldn’t settle between their normal shape or the radio dials he was known for.

“No, that’s not enough,” Alastor didn’t answer your question, “beyond sweets, for every meal, you need to come to me, my Doe. I’ll skin anyone alive who think they can feed– care for you better than I can.”

“I…” Something was off with Alastor, but you could directly ask him when you weren’t in public and–was that screaming?

Ah.

Alastor’s shadow and other little minions were making mincemeat out of the passersby and you guessed they must have riled Alastor up by staring just a little too long. Well, if you wanted to be in the Radio Demon’s life, it was just a fact you had to get used to.

You jumped when you felt something large being draped over you and you felt warm and fuzzy when you could smell Alastor’s scent enveloping you. “What are you doing?” You flushed, seeing that Alastor had taken off his overcoat and was currently wrapping you up in it, looking a little less irritated at the sight of you in it.

“I can still smell that doughnut and its maker on you.” Alastor snarled at the very thought before reaching down to intertwine his fingers within yours and he almost barked out a laugh at how utterly red your face was getting at the gesture. How adorable, you matched his coat.

“W-what are you doing!?” You were completely confused at this point because Alastor never touched you affectionately out in public – both for his image and for your safety. This was odd, bizarre, but you didn’t hate it, you were just flustered at the abruptness of this strange new thing.

“Hmm, I suppose I should have shared something about myself with you earlier,” Alastor tightened his hand around yours, strolling along with you slowly so you could keep up with your shorter frame, “When we are away from any prying eyes and ears, I will tell you what this is. But first, my little Doe, let us enjoy a nice afternoon walk, shall we?”

“O-okay.” You simply nodded, spotting a streaking black shape speeding towards you and Alastor and Alastor’s shadow emerged from the ground. You looked curiously at it when it held out its hands to Alastor in an eager manner, but slowly stepped back once you got a glimpse of what it actually was holding.

“Good job.” Alastor nodded with approval and the shadow seemed to look at you restlessly before Alastor held out to you what he ordered his shadow to retrieve – those worthless Sinners’ eyeballs. “A gift for you, dearest. And many in your favourite colour!”

Ah… ha.

“Thank you, Alastor.”

Yep, better get used to it.

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson x plus size reader

warnings: angst, allusions to smut, major body insecurities, troubles orgasming due to said insecurities, eddie is so incredibly sweet, oral (fem receiving)

a/n: this started out as just a little angsty thing cause i was in my feelings, but it quickly spiraled into something more. while i feel a little nervous sharing it because it directly mirrors my own experience with intimacy issues and self esteem, i hope it can maybe help someone who has felt this same way <3

“— just stop, eds. it’s clearly not gonna happen.”

he can hear the disappointment in your voice as you tug his hand out of your panties. willing away the tears that threaten to spill past your lash line.

you swear something’s wrong with you.

he’s been at this for well over an hour, having to take multiple breaks from when his fingers started to cramp up. your clit feels almost raw, yet numb to the touch. the constant circles he was rubbing against it left you with nothing but discomfort.

“sweetheart—” he whispers, brushing your hair back from your face.

but you quickly bury your face into the pillow, the sheer humiliation makes you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. you already know what he’s going to say, he’s said it more times than you can count.

“save it, please. i don’t want your pity,” your words are slightly muffled, but he hears them loud and clear.

so he stays silent, keeping his chest pressed into your back. he rubs soothing circles over the curve of your hip while you soak his pillow with your tears. each silent shake of your shoulders twists the knife deeper into his gut.

why he hasn’t left is beyond you— anyone else would have.

not only is he stuck with a girlfriend who can’t take her clothes off in front of him, he’s stuck with one who can’t finish either. you can’t imagine how frustrating that must be.

“why are you even still here?” you sniffle, feeling his body stiffen behind you. “this can’t be fun for you.”

he doesn’t answer you, instead moving from his position behind you to roll you onto your back before he slots himself between your thick thighs. and even in the dark of his room you can see how your words have upset him.

“— i’m here because i love you.” he asserts, calloused fingers catching your chin to keep your gaze level with his. “i stay despite how much you continually try to push me away, because you’re everything to me.”

and he catches some more tears that trickle down your cheeks with his thumb. he unintentionally swipes them over your lips and they taste almost bitter on your tongue when you take a shuddering breath in.

“i just.. i feel like this is too good to be true— that you’re too good to be true.” you voice is barely above a whisper now, “that once you see everything… you’ll change your mind.”

his eyes slip shut and an almost painful look crosses over his features.

“baby,” he sighs, carefully taking your hand to guide it up his bare torso. you can feel the uneven flesh beneath your fingertips, a reminder that you almost lost him not so long ago. “you could grow a third head and sprout a tail and i would love you just the same.”

that image has you giggling softly, the sound causing his eyes to flutter back open. eddie grins down at you, bringing your hand up to press a gentle kiss to the back of it.

“there’s my girl,” he hums.

and despite the worry that still lingers in the back of your head, your body automatically reacts to his gentle words. you shift your hips beneath his own, now acutely aware of how uncomfortable the damp cotton feels against your skin.

eddie can see that spark of need return to your eyes, his head tilting down to nudge your nose with his own. he inhales your soft gasp when he carefully presses his hips down into yours.

“can i try something? if you don’t like it, i promise we can stop.”

he waits before making another move, lips hovering over yours until he hears your soft confirmation. then he starts to descend lower.

his lips press against the cotton of your sleep shirt, across the soft pudge of your belly. and you hold you breath when his fingers graze over the hem of it, slowly beginning to push it up your plush thighs.

“eddie i—”

he must hear the alarm in your voice as he stops, warm eyes gazing up at you from where he’s positioned between your legs.

“do you want me to stop?” he asks.

the small shake of your head encourages him to continue, pushing the shirt up only until he can see the outline of your panties.

“we’ll keep this on, okay?” he motions to your shirt.

“okay,” you breathe.

you feel your body is on fire, every nerve ending like a live wire. and you practically jolt when you feel his lips press against your damp underwear, his tongue licking a slow stripe between your clothed folds.

“oh,” you sigh and you can feel his deep chuckle rumble against your core.

so he does it again, enjoying the breathy whine that tumbles past your lips. eddie’s fingers slide up your thighs, sneaking underneath the elastic of your underwear as he continues his actions. going slow enough to get you used to the feeling, but firm enough so you feel each drag of his tongue.

after your first failed attempt from earlier you feel ravenous, now bucking your hips up against his mouth. and your boyfriend seems to get the hint.

“you want them off, sweetheart?”

and you nod almost frantically, any feelings of insecurity pushed to the wayside as your desire slams back into you at full force.

not needing to be told again, eddie carefully guides the fabric down your thighs. tossing them next to you on the bed before he coaxes your legs to rest on his shoulders. even in the dark he can see the curly hairs that cover your mound and the sticky strings of desire when he guides your folds apart with his fingers.

you hear a soft curse leave his mouth, his hair tickling your inner thighs when he leans down further to guide his tongue through your slick.

“so fuckin’ pretty, baby.” he coos.

you gasp aloud at the sensation when the muscle delves deeper, dipping inside your entrance before dragging more slick up to your sensitive nub.

everything feels more heightened like this— more intimate. and you swear you’re more in love with him now than you ever been.

so you let your body sink further into the mattress while he tastes you properly for the first time. his own hips rutting against the bed in tandem with each glide of his tongue. the noises he’s making are downright filthy, the vibrations only aiding in bringing you closer to that release.

it’s right within your grasp, all you have to do is reach out and take it.

the edges of your vision start to blur while your fingers card themselves through his curls to hold him in place. and that wave that’s been building up inside you finally crashes over the surface.

your shaky cry of his name has him moaning into you, his hips twitching as he spills into the fabric of his boxers. and he doesn’t mind when your trembling thighs tighten around his head, keeping him locked into place between your hips.

not that eddie would ever complain.

you finally release him when the feeling becomes too much, thighs settling onto the bed when you tug at his curls. he lifts his head then, eyes mirroring your half lidded gaze. his slick-smeared lips shine in the moonlight that streams through his bedroom window and you feel another rush of emotion flow through you.

“thank you,” you whisper, voice cracking.

he brings your knuckles back to his lips, pressing a wet kiss onto each one. satisfied with his work, eddie crawls back up your body, pressing tender kisses until he reaches your lips. you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him even closer when your mouth do meet.

but that’s when you feel it. the warm, sticky mess that has soaked into his boxers and smeared across his hairy thighs.

“did you just— ?” you ask in almost disbelief, wide eyes meeting his own when he pulls back to give you a cheeky grin.

another gentle roll of his hips has you gasping aloud, the action pressing his mess further into your own as he chuckles deeply.

“damn right, i did.”

[norris55s]

the summer i turned pretty - charles leclerc & arthur leclerc

a reader x charles leclerc & arthur leclerc love triangle, pt. 2

pt. 1

warnings: none other than angst?

a/n: a million years later here is part 2 but it’s not over ladies and gentlemen! i hope it doesn’t suck lol. part 3 will come. also i’ve now added charlotte siné as the fc for practical purposes!

————————————————————————

Day 4

————————————————————————

As I opened the door, terrified at who I was going to see behind it, I met Charles’ bloodshot eyes staring daggers into mine.

“Y/N, let’s talk, please. I screwed up, but let me explain,” he quickly said before I could even mutter a word.

I was still as speechless as I had been last night. Without a word, I moved aside to let him in my room, but he shook his head and insisted on talking to me at the beach. I just obliged, trying my best to be quiet around the house so as to not wake anyone up.

As soon as we arrived on the shore, Charles invited me to sit down and I once again just obliged. My heart was pounding on my ears and I felt like it would jump out of my body at any second.

“I feel like I should start at the beginning,” Charles said, while I looked to the sea instead of looking at him.

“I’ve always loved you. There has always been something about you that comforts me and makes me happy. I just didn’t realize how deep it went until last summer, when I realized that you kissing Antoine ruined the entire season for me.”

I tried to recall any reaction from Charles when I hooked up with Antoine last year that could’ve been a sign, but I found nothing in my memories. I was too busy sulking over the fact that he didn’t and would never like me, but I had been proved wrong 365 days later. The words were in my head but they didn’t make sense. Why would Charles Leclerc like me, much less love me?

“I’ve tried to avoid it, I’ve tried to think nothing of it, I’ve tried to deny it and it’s been no use.”

The irony of me doing the same thing for years was not lost on me. How I have pined for years not realizing he spent some of that time feeling the same way was borderline funny.

“Will you please look at me?” Charles asked with a hint of desperation in his voice, making it impossible for me to deny his request even if I knew any resolve or strength I had left in me would evaporate the minute my eyes met his.

The butterflies in my stomach felt like a swarm of wasps, and I’m sure the blush in my face evidenced it. Charles’ green eyes, the object of all my hidden wishes for as long as I could recall, stared into mine looking to decipher my emotions.

I wished I could say he found nothing but love, but in between all those beautiful feelings of loving and being loved in return, I could still sense a wretched feeling of disappointment.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” a stronger voice than expected called him out. All this time he had to know I felt the same way, but he let me believe there wasn’t a chance in hell he could care about me beyond a friendship.

“It took me too long to even understand it. Even then, I couldn’t justify changing your life on a crush, or hurt you and ruin it all. I still don’t know if I can justify it, but I know I can’t stand it anymore. I love you and I’m done pretending I don’t, or that you don’t love me too.”

When I searched into his eyes, all I could find was sincerity. And it was enough for me to jump into the deep end, leaning closer to him in hopes he would initiate the kiss I’ve desperately wanted for far too much time.

He granted my wishes, placing both of his hands on my neck to connect our lips. It was just like I imagined it.

Soft, passionate, unrushed, warm. I felt the fireworks that everyone speaks of go off in my head, and I just knew Charles felt them too.

As we pulled away to breathe, struggling to even think of ever separating me from him ever again, Charles smiled brightly.

“Can you say you love me too, mon cœur?” he asked so prettily I could coo at him.

“I love you, Charles Leclerc,” I obliged, because how could I say no to him?

“And I love you, Y/N L/N,” he replied, smiling even bigger, and kissing me even better.

Our bubble of a newfound love lasted a while, but was eventually meant to break when I received a text from Arthur.

————————————————————————

————————————————————————

The conversation about Arthur with Charles wasn’t the hard part at all. The older brother brushed the kiss off as a drunken mistake, and was a little too confident on who my choice would be.

The conversation about Charles with Arthur would be the hard part, and I didn’t even have time to settle down in my bed after the rollercoaster of emotions I had just gone through when Arthur barged in.

He looked happy to see me, and it broke my heart.

In trying to find the words to say I couldn’t be with him, and before I could mutter them, he hugged me.

“I’ve been trying to find you all this time, where have you been chérie?” Arthur smiled, but it quickly faded once he realized my energy wasn’t the same.

“Arthur…”

“Chérie, don’t say it was a mistake because you know it wasn’t. Fuck my brother, you know that this is right.”

“I’m so sorry…” I began and pushed back further away from him, as if my next words would hurt him any less because of it. “Charles and I spoke, and we have realized our feelings for each other…” I looked down, cowardly, unable to face his reaction. “You know I’ve loved him forever and I am just so sorry for leading you on.”

Like it always happened between us, I didn’t have to look at him, and he didn’t have to say anything. I just knew that we were done.

He stormed out of the room.

————————————————————————

charles_leclerc added to his stories

y/ninstagram added to her close friends stories

arthur_leclerc added to his stories

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[ghcstao3]

prince soap is no stranger to assassination attempts. while they’re not frequent occurrences, they happen often enough that they’ve since lost their… effect.

he’s had guards fend off his attackers, has defended himself against assassins. but he finds his most efficient method of keeping his life is distraction—acting so nonchalant, anticipating every move, talking about whatever comes to mind. he manages to both charm and confuse assassins until their capture, and he honestly finds it quite entertaining.

the newest attempt had been by a man named ghost—mysterious as ever, terrifying as ever, soap hadn’t even heard him slip into his room like he does most. but he feels a presence, and that’s what has him speaking to silence:

“it’s rude to sneak up on someone, you know.”

a shift in the air, but no response. not even a breath. soap turns from his desk, mildly startled by the imposing figure cloaked in black.

“come to kill me, have you? like all the others.”

the assassin tilts his head almost curiously, before a deep, rough voice is suddenly invading the quiet. “not the first time, then?” he quips.

soap shakes his head, the edges of a grin creeping up on his face. they usually never engage in conversation. “hardly. though i have to say i’m impressed by your stealth.”

the assassin mockingly bows his head. he says nothing, and soap huffs, having been so excited by the prospect of talking with one of the people sent to kill him.

he pushes to his feet, only taking a single step toward the figure, testing. “well? are you going to kill me or what?”

dark eyes regard soap for a long, silent, tense moment. soap finds himself wishing to see beyond the assassin’s mask.

a low hum of consideration, a minute shake of the head. “not just yet,” he decides.

soap scoffs, glancing away to hide the roll of his eyes, to emphasize his exasperation—but once he turns back, somehow the assassin has already vanished.

disappointing, soap thinks.

but little did he know, that his and ghost’s song and dance were only just beginning.

[theunsinkableship1]

If You Know You Know

I don’t know how many times I’ll have to say this, it must be tiring for some, but I need to reiterate this CLEARLY to be properly understood:

I WILL NEVER SHIP THEM WITH ANYONE ELSE.

This makes absolutely no sense to me. The only reason I’m here is to support Luke and Nicola as a couple. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I won’t do it again after them. Hopefully, if they become an official couple, I’ll step away because my purpose will be fulfilled.

I joined this fandom because I saw something extraordinary between them, something I’ve never witnessed in my entire life. Their connection felt so unique and undeniable. Other relationships, real or supposed, simply don’t matter to me in this context. I initially believed people supported them because they, too, recognized the magic between them. But clearly, that’s not the case for everyone, which is disappointing.

To me, there’s no point in being part of the Lukola fandom if you don’t genuinely support both of them together. To be clear, I deeply admire and respect both actors, and I support their careers wholeheartedly. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m not here to support two talented actors, I’m here for their LOVE, for that incredible bond they share.

I’ve seen many relationships in my life, but nothing like this. Their dynamic is something rare, something worth rooting for.

To be a true shipper is to stand firm in your belief, to celebrate the connection you see and cherish without hiding behind the guise of "realism" or "pragmatism" to spread negativity. If you don’t believe in the ship, that’s fine, but then, why stay? Why participate only to criticize those who do have faith?

Truly shipping them isn’t about constant doubt or spreading cynicism; it’s about what you see and feel between the two people you root for. For those of us who support Lukola, our belief stems from the extraordinary connection we’ve witnessed between Luke and Nicola. It’s something that doesn’t come along every day.

It’s not about shipping every supposed relationship they might have, that approach dilutes the magic of what we see in them. Even if they confirm that they are indeed in those relationships, will I support those ones? Not really because I’ve seen many of those; if they love it, I like it .Their lives, their choices. Not every relationship needs to be shipped, and that’s okay. If Lukola isn’t your ship, then jump ship. No one is asking you to believe, but also, don’t bring your doubt and negativity into a space meant for those who trust and support this connection.

This space is for believers, for those who see and celebrate something extraordinary. If you can’t see it or choose not to, that’s fine, but don’t pollute the energy of those who do. We’re here for Luke and Nicola together, and our faith in them doesn’t need validation from those who don’t share it. Let us enjoy this space as it’s meant to be a celebration of love, connection, and the beauty of their bond.

It’s not about being delusional or not accepting the facts as reality. It’s about recognizing something profound, something rare that transcends other real or supposed connections. We don’t believe their bond is just platonic, just PR, or just friendship. If you still think that you need actively LISTEN and pay a closer look and EAR at what is publicly available. It goes beyond that. What we see is something that defies the boundaries of ordinary relationships.

This isn’t about diminishing the significance of other relationships they may have; it’s about acknowledging that what Luke and Nicola share is singular, a once in a lifetime kind of connection. It’s not something that can be replicated or overshadowed. It’s more.

This ship isn’t built on superficial observations or wishful thinking, it’s rooted in what they’ve shown us. It’s something you don’t see every day, and certainly not in every connection. It’s about believing in the rarity of what they have and celebrating it for the unique bond it is.

For those of us who believe, this feels more like something bigger, more meaningful, and more enduring than any fleeting moment.

This corner of the internet wasn’t created to be all things to all people, it was built with a clear and intentional purpose: to celebrate, believe in, and support the connection between Luke and Nicola. It’s a space rooted in trust, admiration, and the shared belief that what they have is rare and extraordinary.

If someone finds that they no longer resonate with that purpose, that’s okay. People grow, perspectives shift, and interests change. But the respectful and graceful thing to do is to quietly take your leave. Staying to criticize or sow negativity only detracts from the energy and intention of the space, which is to uplift and celebrate, not to argue or debate.

This community thrives on faith and positivity. It’s for those who still see the magic, who choose to believe, and who want to nurture a space filled with that same belief. If that’s no longer where your heart lies, it’s perfectly fine to move on, do the same if you think that we’re crazy, but let us continue to build on the foundation that brought them here.

"If you know, you know."This phrase perfectly encapsulates what it means to believe in something that isn’t always spelled out but is undeniably felt. Like the kind of connection that doesn’t need an announcement because it’s there, plain as day, for those who see it.

“If you know, you know" speaks to the undeniable energy and chemistry between Luke and Nicola. In their silence, because sometimes, what’s not said speaks louder than words.

For those who know, no explanation is necessary. For those who don’t, no explanation will ever be enough. That’s the beauty of it. Some things are felt, not proven, and if you know, you know.