#makes me feel like i can only ever paint something when i know all possible connotations of said thing

[armandism]

had a mentoring yesterday and showed one of my works and one of my professors said that the stag on the painting will make one of the jury members ask about nazis in the context of my work. because of a stag. that made me realize a lot of art academia is just reaching for the most bizarre connections possible

[ellecdc]

hi lovie !

I ADORE your writing and get so excited everytime you post 😭

I wanted to ask if you’re okay with writing a poly!marauders x reader fic where r is an overthinker and over analyzes small things. It brings r to think the boys are mad at reader so r begins to close off— happy ending w/ healthy communication, just them reassuring r

🤍you can absolutely ignore this!!

thank you baby! I'm so glad to have you here with me 😭 thanks for your request 🫶

poly!marauders x fem!reader

CW: insecurities, overthinking, belief of conflict, eventual healthy communication skills, men behaving rationally (that's how you know it's fiction) jkjkjkjkjk 👀

You knew you were overthinking; you could actually hear yourself spiraling as you chewed aggressively on your cuticles. You ran through every single interaction you and the boys had throughout the past few days and couldn’t help but come to the same conclusion every time.

They were mad at you.

And even saying it aloud made you feel silly because, really, what could you have possibly done that would have managed to upset all three of them without knowing about it?

There had been a few disagreements between the four of you since the beginning of the relationship; more specifically since you had joined the relationship. 

The boys, it seemed, went through most of their more volatile fights prior to you meeting them. 

But that didn’t mean there weren’t arguments. There were always differences of opinions, some hurt feelings, and learning everyone’s sensitivities and love languages etc. didn’t happen overnight; it took time.

One thing you were particularly thankful for was that you had yet to ever feel like the boys were ‘ganging up’ on you. Your argument always stayed between you and the participant of the conversation and everyone else opted to stay out of it unless they felt they could provide some helpful insight. 

But for all of them to be mad at you without some big blow up happening? You couldn't imagine what would have caused it.

It wouldn’t have been anything you said or done to Sirius, as he was a very head strong person who preferred to face things upfront and head on. If you had done something wrong to Sirius, you would have heard about it. 

James was a wild card since he usually wore his feelings on his sleeve, but he also had a tendency to paint a smile on his face and smile through the pain in order to keep the peace. 

Remus was often stoic and the voice of reason, but you also knew he could be incredibly sensitive.

Oh god... had you done something to upset Remus? You must have...it’s the only rational explanation. He’d likely be telling Sirius not to say anything to you, and since Sirius struggled in biting his tongue, it would make sense that he opt for the “if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all” route.

And though James did tend to smile through the pain in order to keep the peace, he was also fiercely protective of his people – particularly when those people don’t seem inclined to stand up for themselves.

Oh god. Is this why they asked you to come over tonight? They wanted to talk to you...no, they wanted to break up with you. 

By the time James opened the door, you had forgotten you even knocked. He was all bright smiles until he took in your form – he was disappointed to see you. 

“Hello, honey. Come on in.” He said, though his words were stilted, sounding oddly scripted and rehearsed. 

“Hey sweets!” Sirius called from somewhere in their flat, “have you eaten yet?”

“Yeah.” You called back, having to clear your throat when your voice came out gravelly. You could feel James’ eyes burning a hole into the side of your face.

“Moony’s running late from work, but he’ll be home soon.” James announced as he ushered you into the living room.

You scanned your surroundings, cataloguing everything like it might be your last time in here.

You found signs of Remus’ love of trinkets and the oddities everywhere you looked, as well as signs of James and Sirius feeding into that by bringing him home things they’ve found as well. There’s a small pewter fox you bought on your trip to the coast sitting on one of the shelves of his bookcase.

Picture frames lined the walls; evidence of Sirius’ love for photography, his camera, and his favourite people.

And the god-awful pillow James found at an estate sale and insisted it have a place on the couch. It was ugly, it was lumpy, it didn’t match with anything else in the space, but it was James’ and he loved it.

Sirius came bounding into the room and rubbed at James’ shoulder affectionately, pecking a quick kiss to the crown of your head in hello before breezing by to head to the kitchen.

“He just got a home a few moments ago, he’s gonna heat up some leftovers for him and for Remus when he gets home.” James explained.

“Do you want any, doll?” Sirius called.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you!” You tried your best to sound upbeat while a horrid feeling settled in your stomach.

James seemed to feel just as awkward as you did; keeping his eyes dutifully on you whilst trying to appear that he wasn’t. His leg bounced anxiously underneath him as he leaned onto the arm of the grandfather chair he sat in – across the room from you.

It may as well have been an ocean worth of distance with the way it left you feeling.

Sirius returned to the living room a few moments later and made himself comfortable on the other end of the couch from you, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table after placing a glass of water directly on the coffee table. You wanted to chide him, knowing Remus would have him by the bollocks if he saw, but you didn’t know if it was your place anymore.

Sirius asked you how your day at work was and you offered him a vague “oh it was alright. Long. How about yours?” which started him on a long tangent about some of his more colourful customers today and how tiresome he found people in general. He and James shared some quips and anecdotes about worst moments in their various retail experiences, and you thought about how much you were going to miss this.

“Okay, what is going on?” Sirius snapped abruptly, causing your head to shoot up so quickly that you heard it crack.

“Huh?” You asked sheepishly.

Sirius’ brows furrowed as he stole a glance at James before turning back to you. “You’re being weird...what’s going on with you?”

But you didn’t get a chance to answer when the sound of the front door alerted everyone to Remus’ arrival. You hated that you visibly tensed at the sound of him moving down the hall.

“Hey bubs. Is she here?” You heard him ask James, since you and Sirius couldn’t yet see him nor he you from his position in the hall way.

You felt your face scrunch up miserably and quickly brought your hands up to shield your face, choking out a silent sob.

“Yeah.” James responded, though his voice was but a whisper as Sirius added a “whoa” at the same time. 

“What did you guys do?” Remus cooed and made his way towards you having spotted your distress.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered miserably, both for whatever you’d done to cause this conflict between the four of you and also for your embarrassing display of emotions.

“What are you sorry for, dovey?” Remus asked softly as he knelt in front of you, gently taking your wrists and coaxing them away from your face. 

“For upsetting you all.”

Remus’ brows furrowed beyond their worried state and into a more confused state as he turned to look at the other two boys in bemusement. 

“Well, I don’t think any of us are happy that you’re so upset, love, but we’re not upset. You don’t have to apologize.” He pressed.

“I don’t think that’s what this is.” James input from his place across the room.

“I’m sorry. I’m not quite sure why you’re mad at me, but I’d like to talk about it with you and I promise not to do it again.” You cried, sounding disturbingly and embarrassingly close to begging.

“Mad at you? Is that why you’ve been such a weirdo tonight? You thought we were mad at you?” Sirius asked incredulously.

“Don’t call her a weirdo, Pads!” James chided, standing from his chair. 

“Why’d you think everyone was mad at you, dove?” Remus asked, ignoring the squawking of his boyfriends behind him as he forced you to hold eye contact with him.

“I... I don’t know, I guess things just felt kind of off this week and then...I don’t know.” You admitted dumbly. “And then I got here and, it just felt weird.”

“I’m sorry, angel.” James apologized, suddenly beside you having taken to sitting directly on top of (a very petulant) Sirius. “You seemed distressed and... I got nervous. Usually, Rem is the better one at handling these things, I wanted to wait until he got here to broach the subject. Sirius, though, has the tact of a bull.”

“So, you were just going to let all of us sit here awkwardly until Remus got here to save the day, huh? Not on my fucking watch.” Sirius groaned as he positioned himself to kick James not only off of him, but off the couch completely. This caused Sirius’ glass of water to topple off the coffee table and onto the rug below it.

“Nice going, Prongs,” Sirius spat victoriously from his place on the couch, “look at the mess you’ve made.”

“It wasn’t even my cup!” James defended.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that wasn’t on a fuckin' coaster, Sirius.” Remus reproached darkly, tossing the dark-haired boy a glare over his shoulder.

Sirius just smirked and then winked at you. “There you go, dollface, now everyone’s mad at me instead.”

“Awe, Pads!” James cooed from the ground before launching himself back onto Sirius. “Look at you, taking the heat off our pretty girl.”

Remus shook his head in exhaustion, but you could see a fond smile ghosting his lips from his place before you.

“Trust me, dove. You’re the least of our problems.”

You chuckled wetly and wiped the tears (and more embarrassingly, the snot) from your face. “I’m sorry. I feel rather silly now.”

Sirius, having given up on his instance to be the little spoon between he and James, looked around James’ broad frame in his lap to face you. “How about this; if we’re ever upset with you, we promise to tell you. If we haven’t said anything; it’s safe to assume we’re not mad. Okay?”

You nodded in agreement.

“And...” James continued. “Next time you find yourself feeling like this, maybe you can tell us, too?”

You nodded emphatically. “Yes, I promise. I’m sorry.”

Remus kissed the backs of both of your hands and stood from his knelt position in front of you.

“No more sorry’s, dove. We’re all good.”

James stood from Sirius’ lap to place a warm kiss to the space between your cheek and ear and whispered another apology for your being upset.

“Hey, Moons?” Sirius called.

“Yeah?”

“Are you heading to the kitchen?” He called with the sort of smirk that caused you and James to exchange a suspicious look.

“Yeah.”

“Can you grab me a glass of water, please?”

“Fuckin’ hell Sirius get off your arse. And use a sodding coaster.” Remus bellowed from the bedroom.

“See? You’re the least of our problems.” James repeated, stamping another kiss to your cheek. 

[shiny-jr]

from POMEFIORE

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: Hoping its not too out of character.

Ignihyde   |   Pomefiore   |   Scarabia

Perfume. The carefully sealed envelope reeked of it, like the sweet smell of lavender with spice. The envelope containing the message looked like something you would find when getting an invitation to a ball or a wedding. The envelope was pristine, and the wax sealing it was done so perfectly without a single awkward edge.

It almost looked unnatural with how perfect it appeared. The thick beige parchment was cut evenly, and not a blot of ink strayed from the elegantly curved cursive words that looked like ribbons upon the page. Looks could be deceiving. It was beautiful, but as you might've already guessed, the interior didn't entirely match what was hidden beneath the surface.

To my darling player,

I am at fault and take full responsibility for my actions.

All I've ever wished for, was to admire you. You are the epitome of magnificence, divinity that I can only dream to one day achieve but knowing I will never truly reach. There's an otherworldly sort of allure to you, which drew me in far too close. Much like the man who enhanced himself with wings of wax, but flew too close to the sun so his wings melted and he met a terrible fate. You are the sun, and I was that reckless fool with fake wings.

I allowed myself to get too close, tainting your light with my imperfect presence. Your grace was the warm sunlight on my skin, when everything around me was a horrible darkness. To think, I attempted to put out that light. It was nearly diminished. For that, I should be burned. I'm sorry, so so sorry.

I've thought long and hard on what I could possibly say to you, what sort of response could be adequate enough considering what you mean to me and the delicate situation. It didn't take long for me to arrive to the answer: no response is fitting. It doesn't matter if I pen a letter long enough to rival the river of tears I shed, coat the envelope in gold and ink of silver, with a message that would have moved the seven themselves to weep. It does not change the betrayal that occurred. I betrayed the trust you gave me, and shattered it into millions of pieces. However, know that I'll be on my hands and knees piecing it back together again, even if the shards cause me to bleed, you are worth it.

The stabbing sensation on my skin would be nothing compared to the one in my heart that I feel when I consider the fact that you might despise me. There's nothing more I would want than to see your face, hold your hands and feel the warmth of your skin that's so unlike the coldness of your vessel. Requesting a meeting would be imperious, as I have no right to ask you of this. But if I could, I would love to see you and discuss what comes next, perhaps over lunch. This is just a thought, a wish of mine, but one you are not required to fulfill.

I'd love to believe that I know you and your vessel better than anyone else could even dream of understanding, but I know that is far from the truth. Even as I pampered and polished your precious doll, your secrets continue to escape me. Did you ever hear me, when I brushed and washed Yuu's hair? When I took their freezing cold hands and painted their nails? When kneeled down in front of them to polish their shoes? When I adorned the best luxuries of brand accessories on their body?

I would kneel down to no one else.

There was always this wish, a dream of mine, that one day I might perhaps one day get to pamper you. Not Yuu. But you. Is that a scandalous desire?

Your hands would be warm, and I would hold them as I file your nails. Your arm wouldn't be so rigid and mechanical, you could actually extend it as I slather a creamy scented lotion along your skin. And if you do desired, I could lift your head and apply lipstick to your lips... This is just the process I commonly used while your vessel was under my care.

Although, I would gladly take up the responsibility of nursing you back to health, or any other role you would give me. There are countless things I can accomplish for you. I commonly deal in potent poisons, but I can just as well deal in healing and comforting. I'm skilled in self-defense and various forms of magic, so I can be your companion to protect you from everything that would wish you harm. You know of my business in acting and singing, so even if you wanted nothing else I could be there to entertain or serenade you. I only wish to be with you again, even though I know I'm underserving. I'm selfish.

If you want nothing more, then I have to be satisfied knowing I was in your thoughts for a brief moment. A twisted part of me wants your mind to be plagued by thoughts of me, just as my mind and heart is full of you.

I have to remind myself, that by getting too close I risk being burnt. But, at this point, I do not care for my own safety. I only care for yours, and I do this to keep my sanity. I truly admire you so much, that I cannot adore you from afar behind a rope like sculpture in a museum. I have to stand nearby, inspect your beauty, polish you to a shine, and value you like the priceless treasure that you are. Should someone threaten to chip off even the slightest speck on you, forcing you through more suffering...

I will shatter them into a million pieces, to preserve your peace.

Yours,

Vil Schoenheit

The wonderful aromatic smell that filled your nose brought back some not so pleasant memories. The smell of the earth beneath your feet, the scent of dew collected on every still surface, but above all were fragrant tangs that immediately alerted you to any nearby presence of a student belonging to Pomefiore.

They had chased you through those deep dark woods, like a pack of rabid hounds tracking and hunting a poor wounded rabbit. Besides their shouts and footfall, their perfume gave them away. There was one in particular which you only caught a whiff of only when you had too closely encountered the dormleader. The scent of lavender and spice hit your nose, the same fragrance on the letter.

"That reeks! Burn it!" A certain feline hissed, covering his little black nose with his paws. You swore the fragrance was beginning to form a migraine at the front of your skull. If the smell was strong for you, it must've been much worse for Grim since he had a superior sense of smell.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if the smell wasn't that strong and it wasn't the particular scent. Like vanilla or freshly baked bread. If that were the case, Grim might've insisted on keeping it or even be tempted to take a bite out of the sheet.

But it was lavender and spice. So the letter was tossed into a corner several feet away, left to an unknown fate that you would ultimately decide later. When you glanced back to Grim, you saw him holding and sniffing another letter.

For a long moment his sniffed the rolled up paper, his black nose twitching as he was likely just searching for another gift to claim as a snack. After a few seconds, he discarded it, sliding it over to you before he opted to dig through the pile like a raccoon digging into a heap of trash. "Meh, this one smells boring."

"Boring, huh?"

Boring wouldn't exactly be your choice of adjectives to describe this letter. It wasn't an envelope, it was a scroll tied by ribbon, attached to an arrow. An arrow, of all things, was likely the messenger for this message. Thankfully, this one didn't smell of anything. Even without a fragrance to match to a profile, the arrow was a dead giveaway.

Opening it up and using your hands to smooth out the curled edges, you blatantly ignored the wax seal over the ribbon. Once it was fully unsealed, a few single flower petals drifted down from the paper. Just another mess you would sweep up later and decide whether to dispose of it or not, like the first letter from the dormleader. For this one you were a pinch anxious. The sender was not like the others who came before.

Trickster,

It relieves me to see that you are finally safe.

To see you rest and heal in tranquility, nothing steadies my anxiously beating heart more than knowing you are sheltered. Well guarded by a trio of ghosts and the courageous feline Grim, I have no need to stress over your wellbeing with them acting as your valiant knights in shining armor! Although, I would also wish to join their ranks, blessed by your grace and fit to serve as your shield. However...

I am conscious enough to know that I am nowhere near fitting, no matter how much I may wish to reach out and shield you from every evil. In that most vital moment, I had failed to recognize you. I may have spared you from the sharpness of my blade, but I couldn't have guarded you from the suffering that was to come afterwards.

I'm so deeply and truly sorry. Many sleepless nights have followed, since and even before our first fateful encounter in those woods of the Pomefiore estate. Before our encounter, I was conflicted. I wanted to detest you, but I could not, I thought there must be a reason this was all occurring. I couldn't slumber peacefully, so long as I knew there was turbulence surrounding your beloved vessel. After our encounter, I couldn't get the vision of you fragile, frightened, and wounded, out of my mind. Raising a blade against you, who were a stranger shrouded in infamy, made my very heart stop.

Now I know why I was so unexplainably drawn to you. It was not due to the wild frenzy that overtook the entire campus, or a burning hatred to destroy, or even my own desire to discover answers I desperately wanted, although that last one may have played a role. The reason as to I was so enticed by you, a cunning 'imposter,' was because my heart recognized you. It must have been my very soul that pulled me towards you, and perhaps my own nature as well. My body recognized you, my heart and my soul led me to you, but I was blinded by my sorrows.

Throughout the few years I've had on this wonderful earth, I've seen countless peoples, and you are unlike any of which I've seen. In the places I've been, I have witnessed poetry be written by masters of literacy, melodies sung by the most angelic voices ever heard on a stage, and devoted worshippers in holy places kneel in solemn prayer. Somehow you as a single being, or entity, encompass all those elements into one. My aim is to admire beauty, and I see beauty in its finest form when I look at you.

I truly understand what you mean to me, and to others.

But at the same time, you remain a mystery. And I believe I'm speaking for all those who admire you when I say this. We could only dream of truly understanding you, when we only had Yuu.

So, I try to make sense of it all in what I do understand, in the beautiful things I adore that I associate with you who I cherish. In literature, music, photography, I see you in everything all at once. When I read poetic lines, I think I could share it with you. When I hear beautiful music, I imagine you might enjoy listening to the tune too. When I discover stunning sceneries, I plan to bring you there someday to share a moment with you.

Now, I can make sense of it. I understand how the poets of old felt as they penned the love and awe they felt towards the Fairest Queen. It's a rare sentiment that cannot easily be put into words, a feeling as if it held my delicate heart and squeezed when I so much as thought of you. When a song and its composer can bring an audience to tears, I understand that now too. Hearing your voice for the first time, formed a knot in my throat that prevented me from saying much. Catching that first glimpse of you, was like gazing at a perfect painted portrait hanging in a museum.

My dearest player, I am a Hunt. I am naturally inquisitive by nature, and my fondness for you comes just as naturally. You may consider it wrong, but I will continue to offer my loyalty even if you may not accept it.

My aim is to one day unlock your secrets, solve your mysteries, and understand you fully, learn what makes you tick and what drives you forward. Perhaps when the day comes when you've forgiven me for my crimes, I can proudly stand in your presence and recite the poems I have written in your name. I could admire you everyday from then on, and remind you everyday of your worth. Then, I will protect you, from all harm, and I will not allow myself to fail you once again. This is a promise.

Should you need me, I will be there.

Yours,

Rook Hunt

There was something that felt... off. Compared to some of the previous letters, these were rather tame. Of course, there was the desperation and fascination evident in their words captured by the ink, but it was nowhere near as extreme as other cases.

Although, it was still chilling, to read the thoughts they penned.

In your hand you held the arrow the letter had been connected to, feeling its thin shape and the sharpened head at its tip that nearly pricked your finger. The vice dormleader had excellent aim, and had he not been so kind, arrows like this one in your hand could've easily been driven through your flesh and caught you against a tree where you would've been helpless in their grasps.

And yet, despite the opportunities he had, he didn't let a single weapon touch you. All it would take was one arrow, one moment and he could've ended you where you stood. But he spared you. However, there's the lingering doubt that maybe the primary reason he did it was he hoped you had answers to the malfunctioning vessel. You couldn't be sure exactly why he spared you, when everyone had wanted to torment and imprison you or worse.

Beside you, there's a large crunch and a content purr. When you look over, there's Grim, happily munching away on an apple he held with his little paws. He sank his fangs into the fruit, content that he finally found an offering that appeased him. In front of him was a small basket, filled with more juicy red apples.

"These are great! And, even though I was the one who found them, I'll let you have some!" Grim picked up another apple from the basket, sticking his claws into the red peel and offering it with his little grin. Nevermind the fact that these were probably meant as a gift for you and not for him, but you didn't mind. They would have likely ended up in the trash anyways, at least someone could enjoy them.

"You should really have one. You haven't eaten all day."

"I'm not hungry, but thanks. You can have them." Ever since everything happened, you weren't too keen on accepting gifts, especially if they were consumable. For now, the only places you'd accept food from, was the cafeteria you'd venture too at the dead of night when no one was there, or Sam's shop.

In the spot of the basket where Grim had removed the apple, there was a white layer at the bottom of the basket. Perplexed, you reached in and found an envelope hidden by the piled apples.

Unsurprisingly, the envelope smelled of sweet things, apples, cinnamon, and freshly baked pies. The envelope itself was nothing special, it had no intricate wax seal or marking. It was loosely sealed shut by a brown piece of string, and covered in some white and pink apples blossoms.

The inside was less impressive, more authentic, which was refreshing in a way. Smooth cursive flowed into slightly choppy print scrawled out in uneven lines, before eventually returning back to cursive at the end of some sentences. It appears parts were rushed judging by the blotted ink stains at multiple periods. The apples were a clue as to who the sender may be, but why would the letter be hidden in a gift?

Dear Player,

If you're reading this, that means my letter got through.

Where do I even start? It seems right that I first say sorry. I'm sorry. It sounds like a load of bull, but I am sorry. Apologizing in all these other ways, won't make this any better, so, I thought this might help. I'm gonna be completely honest with you, no lies, no tricks, just the blunt truth. I'm not going to be showing you these pretty sides I polished to impress and to mask all the ugly. I'll tell you everything that's been going on. That's something only I have the guts to do.

The reason I hid this letter was because Vil and Rook have been checking anything I want to write to you. They want to keep up this positive front, they wanna at least pretend to be perfect enough to be near you. At least, that's what I think. Although I know we won't ever come close to that.

Instead of trying to write a real and honest letter for you, it feels like I was writing some essay for Professor Trein to grade. I'd have to write and write, and even if the grammar was right, the message wasn't. They want to make you think everything's okay, when it's not. I can only imagine what elegant crap they were spewing in their own fancy letters, while we're actually all a mess. We've been like this since Yuu broke down. I try to understand them, and in a way I do, but sometimes they freak me out. Yeah, I got my own problems trying to comprehend all this chaos, but they're different.

Is everyone else in the other dorms this extreme? This miserable and on the verge of breaking? Maybe you won't believe me, or maybe you'll realize that there's some truth to what I'm saying. Here, in Pomefiore, I can only tell you what I've seen. These days, Rook's smile seems strained, like he's about to snap, his eyes are sharp and watchful. The only time his smile is normal is when he's looking at some photo, but he won't ever let me see what it is. Vil, well, the only sign he's still alive and kicking are the packages that come in for him, new makeup and all that stuff, things he's using to craft that perfect mask. I did see him one night out in the hall, I swear there was mascara down his face but I was too put off to approach when he was like that.

Don't ever tell them I told you all this. Vil would probably skin me alive and wear me as a robe, and Rook... I don't want to think about what he would do... I'm kidding by the way, but seriously, don't ever tell them. I told you I would be honest to you, so here's my reason. I thought that maybe telling you all this would score me points with you, get you to trust me again. Even if this is a rotten way to go about it, I don't care.

I am rotten, and I won't hide it like them.

If I can't even be honest with you, then do I really deserve a second chance at all?

Scratch that. I don't deserve a second chance at all after everything that happened. What I did was downright terrible, but I'm trying my damnedest to be deserving again. And I won't stop trying, even if part of me thinks it's useless. I never cared for Yuu, the only reason I acted for them was because it was you behind them. My goal is to eventually be beside you, the real you.

Although, a basket of apples is a crummy way to go about things, but think of it like a peace offering. Just cause I can't get word to you, don't mean I give up. I'm not giving up. Ever. Everyone's going about their own roundabout ways of mending things. If you want to hear more, I'll gladly tell you. I don't think anyone else would tell you the truth of what's happening, because in a sense everyone wants to appeal to you with the best image of themselves they can possible portray. Don't believe all the hogwash they send you. If whoever sends something and seems to be stable, they're not. Not completely.

I'm awfully ashamed to admit it, but I'm not okay. Not since everything started, and not since everything went to hell when shit hit the fan. I'm not okay without you, and I got myself to blame for that.

This letter is helping. The thought of communicating with you again, even if I can't see your face or hear your voice and its reduced to words on paper, it's more than I could ask for. So, if you want me to spill the beans, just ask. If not, if there's no response, well, I'll get a bit of comfort thinking you might've read this. Besides, I have hope with each attempt I'll make. I'm not just rottenly selfish, I'm stubborn to a fault. And if I have to knock down someone else's chances to get closer, then that's fine by me.

All you gotta do is talk to me.

Until then, hoping to speak to you soon,

Epel Felmier

[bbyquokka]

slow

– in which it's yn's & jisung's first time together. jisung gets a little too in to it!

pairing | han jisung x fem reader

genre | friends to lovers, fluff, smut – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | established relationship , small mention of anxiety , jisung & reader are not inexperienced, its their first time being intimate together , masturbation (m) , dirty thoughts , orgasm denial , pet names , love bites , biting , grinding , jisung is rough at the start , safe word used , breast & nipple play , oral sex (m & f rec) , protected sex (p in v) , aftercare

words | 7.6k ~ ( 7,630 )

notes | it's been a while.. i still dont feel 100% on this site rn but i wanted to post a lil something! also, this was requested a hella long time ago! don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. curious as to what is next? here is my wips list! i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

you never thought you could ever be so in love with a human being, yet here you are, smitten by none other than han jisung.

you’ve read and watched about love, soulmates, marriage, sex, all that type of stuff in movies and books. you never believed in the soulmate's thing or the ‘red string of fate’. you simply thought it was a gimmick to hook the audience into whatever media consumption they were consuming.

but alas, here you are. as you look at your lover and soak in every single precious detail of him, you slowly understand the meaning of soulmate's. your heart thumps every time you hear him speak, stomach fluttering every time you watch him fill his cheeks up with food like a squirrel.

you met jisung by chance. you both were attending a beginners painting course at your local community center. it was a chance for you to step out of your comfort zone and meet new people, possibly make new friends too.

you were nervous to begin with and possibly overwhelmed too. new faces, sounds and smells. you were overstimulated and the raging feeling of anxiety activated your fight-or-flight mode.

luckily for you, jisung noticed and instantly calmed you down. he spoke to you in a gentle and soft manner. he made corny jokes to help relax you and ease your mind. you only just met him and yet, you felt instantly connected to him – like you've known him your whole life.

he mentioned that the teacher, who's name you learnt was hyunjin, was a very good friend of his and that you didn't have anything to worry about. you explained that you're a terrible artist and know nothing at all to which jisung replied “me too! let's be terrible together, yeah?” 

that day was the most fun you've had in a long time. the anxiety you felt disappeared as soon as jisung approached you. you both created god awful paintings but they left you in tears of laughter and by the end of the session, you were sure you developed a six pack due to how sore your stomach muscles were hurting from laughing too much.

you could say that you both acted like two high schoolers goofing around in class. hyunjin did tell you and jisung off but he was just happy that his friend was able to find someone just like him.

you and jisung exchanged contact details. calling and texting each other 24/7. it started off small and sweet, telling each other about your day, telling one another to eat well and stay hydrated. sending pictures of things you both think the other would like.

you didn't realise or consider that your feelings for jisung were slowly becoming a lot more than ‘just friends.’ you couldn't explain it at the time. you couldn't understand why you felt so giddy every time you saw his name pop up on your phone screen. you didn't understand why you wanted to scream and shout every time he sent you a comfy selfie. you didn't understand why your heart raced and why you felt the urge to spend every single second of every hour with him and when he wasn't calling or texting you, that you felt sad and empty.

you simply put it down to the fact that you've never had a close friend before, especially of the opposite sex. you mistook your feelings for love as that of excitement and joy.

however, it wasn't until you saw a picture of him with someone else on a night out, did you finally understand.

the jealousy you felt that night turned you bitter and cold. it turned you into something that you didn't recognise within yourself. you did act a little distant towards him the next day and poor jisung didn't have a clue as to why.

one thing about jisung that you've learnt since knowing him, is that he is very good at getting you to talk about things you don't want to.

“do you think the reason you feel like this could be related to something much more? something you haven't quite figured out yet.”

as soon as jisung sent those messages to you, did you reflect and come to terms that you have fallen in love with your best friend. once that was evident, you had a whole new problem.

what if jisung doesn't feel the same as you? what if it affects the friendship between you both?

with so many questions rushing in your mind, you unintentionally ghosted jisung and he noticed.

he noticed the dry messages. the one liners. he noticed that you didn't seem all too interested anymore. yeah, it filled him up with anxiety because he wondered if he'd done anything or said anything to upset you.

instead of letting his mind run away with negative thoughts, he made the bold decision to go to your apartment and talk it out.

it was a day you'd never forget. it was a day that started off angsty and slowly turned into something magical.

you talked with each other and you confessed through your tears. you sobbed and sobbed, worry shaking your entire existence. jisung hugged you tight, his scent calmed your nerves. once calm, did he too also confess and that was the beginning of something you both cherish to this day.

you both agreed to start of slow. neither of you are inexperienced however, going from being ‘just friends’ to boyfriend girlfriend is a whole new feeling.

you're seeing each other in a new light, learning new things about one another. everything is so different, everything feels different. it feels like your relationship with jisung is starting all over again. what you thought you knew about him, turns out to be completely different.

you went on many dates and outings. you held hands multiple times and cuddled a lot. you both even exchanged sweet pecks on the cheeks before kissing each other. however, you both never did anything intimate with one another.

not because you weren't ready or inexperienced, it's a simple matter of the timing doesn't feel right. you (and jisung) both want to be with each other more, spend more time with one another and learn about each other before taking that massive (and vulnerable) step in the relationship.

not one of you pestered or pressured the other about it. it's as if you both silently just knew. at first you were a little anxious about not having sex with him right away and jisung felt the same, however, as time went on and you both started to find comfort in each other as well as understand one another via social/physical cues, did the anxieties slowly disappear.

that's not to say that you don't feel some kind of lust for him. jisung is exactly the same, thinking and feeling like you. some days he wishes he could just ravish you. when you look that extra gorgeous or do something cute that makes his heart skip, he wishes he could just drag you back to his place and indulge in you.

there have been many times that he's masturbated over you. date nights he would find himself going home, straight to his bedroom and his fist around his throbbing cock. his mind plagued with dirty thoughts of you, imagining you in your date attire.

some nights he wants to ruin you. his hand funnelling for his phone as his other is wrapped around his cock and squeezing tightly to deny himself of his orgasm. it hurts and the longer he waits, the more it hurts him but it makes his toes curl and body shakes with excitement.

he doesn't know how long he can go on like this. he knows patience is a virtue but just everything about you is driving him insane. the more time goes on, the more he becomes impatient. the more it builds and builds until it feels like he is suffocating with an intense amount of lust.

luckily for him, he won't have to wait that long.

“thank you for tonight, sungie.” you smile as you stand on the doorstep of your home. jisung hums softly, his hands in his suit pants pockets.

“my pleasure. i hope you enjoyed the meal.”

“i enjoy your company more than anything.” you feel your cheeks heat up slowly. the tips of jisung's ears slowly turn red at your cute confession.

“i – ahm – i shall bid you goodnight then, darling.” as he turns on his heels, he is abruptly stopped by you grabbing his wrist. he looks up at you, a look of confusion on his face, his brows furrowed together.

“what’s the mat–”

“stay the night.” you blurt out in one sentence. 

his heart stops beating for a second. your cheeks pink as the grip on his wrist is tight. heat rushes down south and his mouth becomes dry. 

“darling, what are you trying to say? do you know what will happen if i stay the night?” he takes your hand gently from his wrist, intertwining his fingers with yours as he walks close to you. 

you become fixated on him and your senses become heightened. your throat becomes dry as jisung holds your hand whilst his other wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his body.

you become hyper aware of the situation; of him! you swallow thickly, jisung's plump lips curled up at the corners in a smirk as they glisten from his saliva. 

“you are aware, correct?” he whispers. his voice is husk and his breath fans against your lips. you nod slowly, unable to speak. you worry that jisung would be able to hear your racing heartbeat. his cologne tickling your nostrils and intoxicating you. 

you've never been this close to him before. you can see every single detail of his skin up close and personal. his grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly as he shakily lets out a slow breath.

he brings the back of your hand to his lips, pressing them against your skin as he peers up at you through his lashes. you feel warmth flooding your body, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“god you're so beautiful.” he mumbles before kissing each of your fingers individually. “do you want to, darling?”

“i–” you stumble over your words.

“tell me. let me hear your pretty voice.” his hand escapes your waist to be pressed against your flush cheek. you instantly lean into his palm, feeling yourself be swayed by his charms.

“i-i want you, ji.” you whisper as your eyes flutter close. with a small huff, you feel jisung leaning closer to you and within a second, his soft lips are against yours in a slow and rhythmic kiss.

it's different. it feels different. it's not a simple peck or a good night kiss. it's a kiss that is filled with built up fiery passion. jisung has finally been given the go ahead and he can feel it all overflowing and seeping out.

he grips your hand, eyes fluttering closed as his brows scrunch together. you tilt your head to the side a little, lips locking and caressing one another. he presses his body against yours, your back hitting your door which causes jisung to snake his arms around your back and hold you firmly in his arms.

your own arms wrap around his neck, keeping him close to you as possible. the way jisung is kissing you is making you feel lightheaded and deprived of oxygen – but you don't want to escape from his grasp.

the cold night air fans against your hot cheeks, failing to bring down your body temperature. you feel the tip of his tongue glide along your bottom lip, silently pleading for permission. you grant it by parting your lips and letting your own tongue caress with his.

your body fills with tingles of excitement, your abdomen fluttering. jisung's suit pants are starting to feel a little tight. he can feel himself slowly melt into you, his mind turning foggy. he's waited all this time to taste you and now he finally has you, he doesn't want to escape and let you go.

“taste so sweet.” he mumbles for a split second to allow some air to resume into his lungs. you don't have a chance to reply because his lips are instantly back on yours, tongue caressing and colliding with yours. melting at the touch.

your heart thumps against your chest so loudly, you can hear it in your ears. your body trembles with excitement but also another feeling that you can't quite put your finger on.

you hear jisung fumbling behind you, his hand coming into contact with the cold door handle. with his lips still locked onto you, he opens the door and slowly pushes you inside. once inside, he kicks the door closed with his foot as you both stumble whilst taking off your shoes.

you're the first to pull away from his lips much to his dismay. you look at the man that stands before you and notice that he looks and feels different. he no longer feels soft and gentle. his eyes are hazy but darkened with hunger and lust. his cheeks are pink and lips swollen and glistening with saliva. you see his chest rising up and down with every breath and his neat hair now dishevelled.

“where?” his words dripped with a hint of impatience. you swallow a little and chew your lip gently.

“we can go to my room?” you press your lips together in a thin line. you're suddenly aware that jisung is in your home, in your space and it's making you nervous as hell! jisung notices you trembling a little so he places one hand on your shoulder whilst the other is used to lift your chin up gently so you're looking at him.

“are you sure?” his voice is now soft and gentle, the same softness you've grown accustomed too. “we don't ha–”

“i want to!” you blurt out causing jisung to widen his eyes slightly before chuckling to himself. “just give me a few seconds. i need to go to the restroom.”

he gives you a gentle smile and nods. as you go to the restroom, you tell jisung the directions to your bedroom in case he wants to sit and wait and whilst he does, he takes his time looking around your place.

he makes a mental note how it's just like you. how every piece of decoration resembles you in one way or another. he walks to your bedroom, cautiously sitting on your bed as he waits for you.

as he waits, he suddenly becomes hyper aware of where he is. he can smell you. the same lavender scent that emits from your clothing is now tickling his nostrils. his lips part as he lets out small, shaky puffs of air.

“fuck.. this is bad.” he mumbles as he unbuttons the first few buttons of his dress shirt. his body temperature skyrocketing, skin glistening in sweat as your scent continues to hug him deliciously.

meanwhile, you're in the restroom giving yourself a pep-talk. the coolness of the ceramic sink feels soothing against your hot palms.

you're nervous. you've never been this nervous before. it feels like you could throw up. you want to run and hide but the desire you have for him is too strong. you want him and he wants you, it's just because it's all new that you feel like this.

however, you can't shake that hungry look from jisung's eyes away from your mind. he looked like an animal, ready to pounce on you at any second. 

you take a few deep breaths in and slowly release before fixing your hair. “you got this yn.” you mumble to your reflection before walking out of the restroom into the bedroom.

jisung looks up at you and gives you a grin. his legs are spread, hair pushed back with the buttons of his dress shirt still open, giving you a glimpse of his honey smooth skin you've been dying to caress.

he pats his inner thigh, silently beckoning you forward. like a puppet on a string, you feel yourself being pulled towards him. you stand between his legs, his hands on your waist gently as he strokes it with his thumb.

you glance at him, soaking in how beautiful and flush he looks. he tilts his head to the side, his bangs covering his eyes and his lips curl into a smirk as he sees your eyes flicker from his face to his crotch.

“like what you see?” 

your eyes widen and you feel heat rush to your cheeks. your brain melts and your ability to speak fails. words lodged in your throat and all you can muster is broken sentences.

jisung laughs at your flustered state, pulling you onto his lap. he pulls you flush on his crotch, chest to chest. his arms wrapping around your back and holding you close and he nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

the tips of his hair tickle your cheeks. hot, shaky breaths fanning against your skin as you feel your clothing being bundled up into jisung's hands.

“fuck, i’m in trouble. you’re too cute.” you giggle, your fingers caressing his soft hair. the tips of your fingers rake against his scalp and jisung closes his eyes slowly. his lips brush against the skin of your neck before being pressed against it. 

he starts off slow and gentle at first, peppering and sucking gently. but that soon fades.

you feel his teeth graze against your skin and your breath hitches in your throat. you bite your bottom lip gently before whimpering a little as his teeth dig into your neck. you squeeze your eyes shut, enduring the stinging sensation as you hold your breath. 

his kissing and sucking quickly becomes rough and painful. you grip onto jisung as his hands trail down your back to hold your waist. he grips onto you, moving your hips back and forth on his crotch.

when he pulls away from your neck, do you realise exactly what is happening and why you feel so anxious.

this isn't your first time but with how rough jisung is being is making you feel scared. the kind, gentle man you're so accustomed to is nowhere to be seen. his eyes are darkened, half-lidded. kiss bitten and swollen lips glistening in saliva.

his jaw clenches as he grips onto you forcefully. his mind has fogged over and he is purely chasing his own high. his body is being driven by the intense lust and hunger that had been building for months.

he's a different person and it's scaring you.

“h-hey. why don't we take i–” your attempt at trying to calm him down and bring him back to you cut short due to jisung throwing you onto the bed.

your back is hit with the bouncy mattress, the springs squeaking from impact. you watch jisung kneel between your legs, hands fumbling with the rest of the buttons of his shirt before it's quickly discarded to the side leaving him in nothing but his dress pants.

you wish you could enjoy the beautiful sight before you but you simply can't. you've seen jisung's body numerous times via gym or thirst selfies, seeing it in the flesh and glistening in a thin layer of sweat is a different experience and you so wish you could enjoy it.

“ji–” your eyes widen as he leans down and kisses you. it's not the same as before, it's rough. all teeth and tongues with no coordination. you start to panic, palms becoming sweaty and your heart beating against your chest.

this isn't how you imagined your first time to be with jisung. this isn’t what you wanted. you want your passionate, gentle and loving jisung back.

“v-volcano!” you sob. as if a switch has suddenly been switched inside of him, he is fast to get off you. his eyes widen in pure shock at the sight before him. you chew your bottom lip gently, unable to stop a few tears from trickling down your cheeks.

“oh my god. oh no. yn, oh fuck. i’m so sorry!” he reaches down shakily and presses his palm against your cheek. you lean in as you sniffle.

“it’s ok.” you whisper.

“no!” his sudden loud tone of voice makes you jump a little. “it’s not ok. i lost myself in the moment and i made you cry. fuck, i’m an idiot..”

“hey, it's ok.”

“it's not ok yn. i didn't mean to scare you. i've been wanting you for so long that when i finally got you, i lost sight of everything and in the process hurt and scared you.” his voice cracking and shaking. his brown, boba eyes filling with tears.

you sit up and kiss his cheek gently. your lips are met with the salty flavour of his tears. he wraps his arms around you tightly, pulling you into his chest as he sobs.

“i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry. this wasn't how i planned this. fuck i’m so stupid!” he babbles. you hush him softly, stroking his hair slowly. you make a mental note of how he currently reminds you of a lost child, babbling and crying till their red in the face and snotty.

“i’m ok jisung. it did scare me. i saw a side to you that i’ve never seen before and it frightened me but you stopped when i used the safe word and that counts for something.”

“really?” he mumbles against your neck which is currently wet with tears.

“really. it'd be different if you carried on but you didn't. don't beat yourself up about this. this is our first time together.” you pull away slowly, cupping his cheeks. “we’re still learning about one another, darling. intimacy is a big big step in a relationship. it's probably one where we're at our most vulnerable.”

jisung simply nods and looks down, chin into chest as his lips turn into a pout. a few stray tears falling down his cheeks as he sniffles.

he really is like a child you say to yourself mentally before giggling.

“i'm sorry.” he whispers before looking up at you. “can we start all over again?”

you smile softly at him and nod. he leans on, tilting his head to the side and eyes slowly closing as your lips meet again. he is slow, tender and so gentle with you. it sparks butterflies in your stomach and for you to melt and relax into him.

he gently pushes you down so you're resting on your back, the kiss not being broken once. you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close to you. his fingers dance along your jawline and down your neck, trailing down to your breasts when he gently cups them through the fabric of your clothing.

your breath hitches a little in your throat. he gently massages your breast, kneading it in the palm of his hand. you gasp a little and groan, your legs parting a little bit more to allow more space for jisung to situate himself in.

his hand slowly trails up your stomach from under your clothing. his soft fingers dance along your skin like delicate pixie feet. it leaves a trail of heat and butterflies behind making you longing for more.

jisung licks your lips slowly and is pleased to feel them slowly part. the two wet muscles meet in the middle when they collide, hug and caress. his delicate fingers reach to your breast where he presses his palm on the flesh and wraps his fingers around it gently.

he squeezes your breast a few times, kneading and rolling it slowly. he swallows every gasp and soft moan that falls past your lips.

“god.” he mumbles as he pulls away to bury his face into the crook of your neck. “you sound so beautiful.” 

“i do?” 

“mhm.” jisung's fingers brush over your hardened nipple, causing you to moan softly in shock at the sudden sensation and sensitivity. “see? i might become addicted.”

you flush at his words, your stomach fluttering and heartbeat skipping beats. you worry with how close jisung is to you, that he'd be able to hear and feel how erratic your heart is.

he presses his lips against your neck, kissing it tenderly and giving gentle sucks. his fingers work on your breast whilst you're unsure on what to do with your own. jisung notices this.

“it’s ok. you can touch me.” he chuckles against your neck. you flush red with embarrassment.

“i-i know! i just don't know where..”

“you can caress me. hold me. tangle your fingers in my hair. whatever feels natural, yn.” he pulls away from your neck to kneel up. his hand is off your breast as he takes your hand gently by the wrist. he brings your hand to his lips, eyes on you as he kisses your fingers delicately. “i won't break.”

you watch him kiss your fingers before kissing the back of your hand. then, he takes your wrist gently, guiding it to his cheek. he presses your palm against his flush skin as he leans in, his own hand pressed against the back of yours to keep your hand there.

“it’s ok to touch me, yn. touch me as much as you like. i've been dying for your touch so please, indulge in me. be greedy.” he whispers. 

you can't help the onslaught of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. it feels like they're travelling throughout your whole body, hugging your veins, nerves and tips of your fingers and toes. your breathing becomes shallow and jisung becomes the only thing you see.

everything turns blurry and time passes by slowly as you look at the man that is smitten for you. this love you feel from him, the love that's radiating and seeping from his pores is more than you thought.

it's suffocating but it's good. you want to drown in his love, drown in his warmth. you want to be entangled with him and have him be the only person you think and feel. 

you've noticed it for a while. noticed how hot he makes you feel. how his touch makes your skin burn. how his kisses linger on your skin. your lips automatically turned up in a smile whenever you see his name pop up on your screen. you're always thinking of him and you miss him when he isn't with you. you want to lock him up and never share him with anyone else because you'll get jealous. you want him by your side for eternity.

he is your life, your soul. your present and your future.

“i love you.” 

jisung looks at you, his eyes slowly widening. you haven't registered what you've just said, feeling like you're in a haze.

“say that again.” 

“huh?” you blink, coming back to reality.

“do you mean it? like, truly?” 

“mean what?”

“you said… you said you love me.” your eyes widen as you open and close your mouth like a goldfish, words stuck in your throat.

“i… i…uhm..”

“because–” he cups your cheeks gently. his eyes sparkling and wet as they fill with tears. “because i love you too. so fucking much.” 

your own eyes fill with tears as you watch tears trickle down jisung's cheeks. you laugh softly, stroking them away with your thumb.

“yes. i mean it, ji. i love you.”

“fuck.” he sobs before kissing you sweetly. you laugh in the kiss before kissing his tears away.

“yn.” he mumbles. you hum as a response. “i’m really fuckin' hard.. it hurts..” you press your lips together and glance down.

true to his word you can see a bulge in his suit pants. the fabric hugs him nicely, giving you a brief idea of his size and girth. he looks thick and long.

“please yn.. please do something. i can't bear it no more.” his voice is husk and dripping with lust. it tickles your ears and makes you shake with adrenaline.

you reach down and unbutton his pants, pulling the zip down. it gives him a small sense of relief but it's not enough. he lets out a small sigh before raising up a little on his knees to allow you to pull his pants down.

you do so with shaky hands, pulling them down to his thighs. jisung watches you stare at his crotch, watching you soak in all the information you have right in front of you.

his grey boxer shorts hugging his lower half tightly, the material stretching a little due to his bulge. it hugs him, feeling too snug to be comfortable. a wet patch where his tip is resting turning the fabric a darker grey.

“baby.. you're embarrassing me.” you look up to see jisung looking to the side, his bottom lip being chewed and his cheeks pink.

“sorry! it's just..” you trail off. jisung laughs softly and cups your cheeks.

“it’s ok. i understand.” he kisses your forehead gently. his muscles twitch and jerk as he feels your fingers come into contact with his sides.

you hook your fingers under the waistband of his shorts and slowly pull them down. you both hold your breath, time feeling like it's slowed down. you reveal his happy trail, his neatly trimmed hair until finally, his penis bounces free from its restraints.

jisung sighs heavily in relief, his eyes closing. you, on the other hand, stare at him with your mouth wide open. your hands have now bundled up the fabric of his shorts as you swallow and lick your lips.

you knew he was packing, that was evident in the way you could see it in jeans, pants and even his underwear – but you didn't think he'd be this big.

“holy. you're big.” you say without giving it a second thought. jisung stutters and covers his face with his hands, peering at you through the gap of his fingers.

“not sure if that's a compliment or not but, thank you.” 

“it's a compliment.” you whisper before leaning down.

his hips buck and muscles twitch. you haven't done anything but your breath fanning against his hot skin makes him throb and anticipate. you lick your lips and use the tip of your tongue to lick his tip.

“f-fuck.” he instantly moans. your actions are miniscule but it feels so much more than what it is. maybe it's because he's wanted this for so long or maybe it's because you both confessed and said i love you that makes it feel the way it does.

you press your tongue flat against his tip. your taste buds are met with a salty flavour from his pre-cum. you wrap one hand around the base of his penis as you slowly start to become more confident. you stroke him slowly, rotating your wrist a few times as you wrap your lips around his tip.

he feels hot – so so hot. jisung feels like his skin is burning. he feels like he is drowning in molten lava. he pants as he watches you, his eyes half-lidded and his teeth chewing on his bottom lip.

“hot.” he pants. he reaches down to bury his fingers in your hair. “ahh, fuck..” his head tilts to the side as you bob your head in time with your hand, giving his penis equal stimulation from both your hand and mouth.

you flatten your tongue to stoke the underside of him. you can feel the bumps from his veins against your palm. you hollow out your cheeks and breath through your nose the best you can. the corners of your mouth start to stretch and sting due to them splitting slightly. your mouth becomes accumulated with saliva which makes it easier for you to take more of him.

“a-ah.. fuck, yes. that's it. god, your mouth is so warm and feels so good.”

his praises and soft moans hug your ears. the deep octa waves of his voice send shivers down your spine and encourage you to be more brave. your eyes flutter shut as you focus all your attention on pleasuring jisung. 

he slowly unravels right before you. a thin sheen of sweat soaking his body as his penis throbs and twitches. he gently tugs on your hair, his hips bucking several times. soft whimpers and moans leave his swollen and parted lips as he slowly becomes dizzy with heat and lust.

jisung reaches down and gently pushes you away from him. you look up at him with a confused expression, eyebrows furrowed together. he strokes your saliva coated lips with his thumb before speaking.

“you're going to make me cum and i don't want to cum just get.” 

you laugh softly but it's quick to become muffled and swallowed by jisung kissing your lips slowly and passionately. you only pull away from a brief second to allow him to undress you.

once stripped of your clothing, you're left in your underwear. just like you did, jisung is currently staring at your body. his mouth agape and eyes filling with love and admiration as he soaks in every single detail of your body.

you become aware of his eyes and feel somewhat violated by his piercing gaze. you cross your arms across your breasts and stomach, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable.

“hey, don't do that.” he whispers softly to you as he gently pries away your arms.

“but it's embarrassing.” you mumble.

“but you're so gorgeous, yn.” you remain silent. you don't know how to respond. he's always showered you with compliments and love, forever telling you how beautiful and pretty you are but it feels different this time and it's making you feel embarrassed and shy.

your thoughts are disrupted by the feeling of jisung kissing your stomach. you watch him, tangling your fingers in his hair. he reaches up and hooks a finger underneath your bra strap as if he's silently asking.

you nod slowly. he grins, showing his teeth and gums. he takes off your bra and discards it with the rest of the clothing. his head dips low and you close your eyes, whimpering as you feel his lips peppering kissing on your breasts.

“so pretty.” he mumbles between each kiss. your hard nipple is caught between his teeth, lips sucking and tongue licking the sensitive nub.

you chew your bottom lip to suppress the moans that are building in the back of your throat. you tremble a little and let out a small pant. jisung notices and releases your nipple to kiss your neck softly and slowly.

“don't hold back your voice. let me hear your pretty moans.”

tingles are being left behind from where jisung has kissed your skin. heat pools in the pit of your stomach and much to jisung's delight, you let go of the moan that had been building in the back of your throat.

“see. told you your moans sound pretty.” his hot breath fanning against your hard nipple before his tongue swipes over it slowly. it gets covered in saliva and slowly becomes sore and sensitive.

the tips of your fingers and toes feel tingly. you feel restless and needy. you want him to hurry up and touch you but at the same time, you want to indulge and embrace the sweet yet tender moment.

he moves from your breast and kisses between them, kissing, sucking and licking your stomach whilst his hair tickles your skin. he stops just above the waistband of your underwear, eyes flicking up to meet your hungry gaze.

you nod and give him the go ahead. he licks his lips and slowly pulls down your underwear, discarding them on the floor. you swallow, feeling nervous and embarrassed now that you're on full display for jisung to see.

he shuffles between your legs, kissing your inner thigh slowly as well as sucking it. he squeezes your soft flesh as he looks at you and keeps eye contact with you. you bite your bottom lip, loving this new side to him. your once innocent looking skin now tainted with purple love bites and goosebumps.

using the tip of his middle finger, he trails it up and down your inner thigh slowly. he looks at your pussy, humming softly as the sight of your soaked folds and swollen clit.

“all this for me?” he whispers as he drags his middle finger to your entrance and gently scoops some of your slick onto it. you nod slowly, unable to speak with how embarrassed you feel. “cute.” he mumbles before licking his finger clean.

he leans down and in, pressing his tongue flat against your neglected bud. your muscles twitch and you gasp as electric like tingles shoot up and down your spine. jisung hums at your reaction, swiping his tongue along your clit.

“j-jisun.. aah!” your eyes flutter close as you press your head onto the pillows. the tip of jisung's tongue is now swirling around your bud, fingers teasing your entrance slowly. he gently sucks on your clit before kitten licking it and moaning softly.

he hooks his arms under your legs, pulling you flush against his face. his tongue slips down to your entrance where he laps at your slick, moaning at the taste and rutting against the mattress. he huffs occasionally, hot breathes fanning against your entrance.

“so good.” he mumbles. you go to reply but a moan replaces your words due to jisung slowly pushing his tongue into your entrance. your warmth encapsulates his tongue, fingers digging into the skin of your thighs. he pushes and pulls his tongue in and out whilst his nimble fingers work on stimulating your clit.

“mhm, fuck. ji don't stop, please.” you moan as you reach down and grab his hair on your hands. you gently tug as your back arches a little. jisung feels your walls flutter on his tongue, your muscles twitching with the stimulation.

your folds get coated in slick and saliva along with jisung's lips and chin. he pulls away for a brief second to catch his breath before resuming back to the task at hand. jisung is thrusting into the mattress, the roughness of the sheets rubbing against his length that's being pressed against his stomach and coating it in his pre-cum.

you feel that all too familiar heat and knot in the pit of your stomach. you gasp and moan, tugging at his hair by the roots. your eyes flutter open and you look up at him as he pulls away, your lips forming a pout.

“i want to carry on, believe me baby but–” he kneels up and between your legs. he looks down and bites his lip. you follow his gaze and press your lips together in a thin line from how hard he is. “it’s painful. i need to be inside of you.”

“o-oh.” you blush. “then, hurry up because i want you.” 

“do you have any protection?” you nod and point to the side drawer by your bed. jisung reaches over you and you take this opportunity to lean up and kiss his neck. jisung grunts and shivers, his lips parting slightly as you gently bite and lick his skin.

“baby.. you're not helping.” 

“shh, just focus on getting a condom.” you purr. jisung's hands fumble around, struggling to open the drawer. when he does, he is met several packs of condoms, lube and some toys.

“i see you're fully stocked up.” he says with a smirk, grabbing a condom and closing the drawer. you feel heat rising to your cheeks.

“there for a friend.” you mumble, averting his gaze. jisung laughs as he opens the condom.

“riiiight, a friend.” 

“shut up.” you whine. “it's better to be prepared.”

“oh i know. that's what i love about you, baby.” you watch him roll the rubber on his length and hold your waist, pulling you closer to him. “ready?”

“i’m ready.”

jisung nods and holds the base of his penis. he guides it to your entrance, rubbing his tip against it and between your folds before slowly pushing in. you both hiss for different reasons.

for him, the warmth and tightness is delicious. you feel so comfy and hot that the heat is spreading throughout his entire body and replacing the blood in his veins with molten lava. he feels his cheeks becoming hot, his palms sweaty and brain feeling like it's melting.

for you, the pain from the stretch burns. you know it'll subside once you get used to him but his thickness is currently the issue. he is being careful and content, going ever so slow for you. he has a little under half his length in and you already feel full.

“it’s not all of it but you're still so tight so we shall go from here.” jisung manages to say through his laboured breaths. he gives you a few minutes to adjust, his hands gripping onto you as he painfully waits.

you give him a nod that tells him it's ok. he starts of slowly, the burn still there but pleasure is soon quick to override it. you reach down and hold onto his wrists as he slowly picks up the tempo. 

his head tilts to the side and his lips part slightly. soft moans and grunts leave his lips. you hold onto him, your body rocking with each thrust of his hips.

“aah fuck. you feel even better than i imagined.” he pants.

“y-you too. please go a little faster and harder.” jisung nods and starts to thrust harder and faster. your back arches as pleasure hugs your body tightly, making you feel like you're suffocating. moans being lodged in your throat.

jisung leans over you, resting on his forearms that are beside your head. the new position allows him to push a little bit of his length deeper inside you but his hips slow down. his movements are long, slow and sensual. 

the ridges of his cock rub your gummy walls, reaching places that have never been touched before. jisung leans down, burying his head into the crook of your neck as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“this feels too good.” his voice is hoarse and low due to his throat being dry from panting. his hair sticks to his skin, the tips coated in sweat as his body glistens.

“it does. you're so deep, ji. please don't stop.” you whisper in his ear, moaning a few times.

“fuck.. you sound so fucking pretty moaning my name. is it even possible to become even more addicted to you?” he kisses your neck slowly and gently. 

your gummy walls tighten around him. both of you reaching your peaks. denying yourselves from previous orgasms meant that it's been building and building up to this point.

“i can't..” you stutter, nail digging into his back.

“me too.. i think i’m at my limit.” you whimper and nod as a response. a few more thrusts and you both orgasm together. your walls flutter around him whilst he twitches and empties into the condom.

you both pant heavily, exhaustion settling in. jisung's arms shake a little, threatening to give up and collapse on top of you. using the remaining strength he has, he pushes himself up and pulls out slowly, taking off the condom, tying and discarding it.

you spread out on the bed, eyes slowly closing. jisung laughs and kisses your forehead gently. he rushes to the bathroom, running a warm bubble bath for you both.

he gently scoops you up in his arms, placing you in the tub before settling behind you. after washing yourselves, you both take a few minutes to relax. you lean into his chest, listening and feeling his steady heartbeat.

“i’m sorry about before..” he mumbles as he strokes your hair slowly. “i became too excited and lost myself in the moment.”

“it’s ok. all's forgiven.” you grin, looking up at him. your grin falters as you look at him. his head dipped low, chin tucked into his chest. his boba eyes glistening as he chews his bottom lip. “hey, it's ok.” 

you spin around to face him in the tub, kneeling uncomfortable in the small tub. you cup his damp cheeks gently, water droplets falling from the tips of his hair. he looks at you and pouts softly.

“but i sca–” you press your lips against his to silence him. his eyes widen a little but he is quick to kiss back.

“i said it's ok. you stopped and you snapped out of it pretty quickly. don't beat yourself up about it, baby. besides–” you push his hair back gently “i enjoyed my first time with you.”

“me too.” his cheeks flush pink, whether from him feeling shy or the humidity of the bathroom. “i’d love to do it with you again.”

“the feelings mutual.” you giggle before kissing his forehead. “now c’mon, let's get to bed. it's been a long night and i’m exhausted.”

jisung agrees and gets out of the tub with you. you both dry yourselves off and get ready for bed. jisung suddenly scoops you up in his arms which causes you to squeal and laugh. he walks to the bed, gently placing you down.

you snuggle into the duvet, watching jisung get in beside you. he faces you, holding your hand gently.

“i love you, yn. i love you so much.” he plays with your fingers as he whispers those sweet and delicate words to you. your heart flutters and skips beats, time freezing for nth time.

“i love you too, ji. forever and always.” 

[elllisaaa]

fjhkvdhfvd I LOVE YOUR BF THOUGHTS SO MUCH!!! you write them so well 😭😭😭 can we please get a vernon one!!! ahhh

thank youuu so much ! i'm really glad this concept gets attention because i really like doing this, hope you'll like it !

BF!VERNON who's maybe not the most expressive but who knows how to show you that he loves you through many other ways.

vernon says "i love you" without any words, and actually, you love it that way a lot. for example, whenever you recommend a song to him or when he sees you listening to something he doesn't know, he's gonna go listen to it too. you have a shared playlist and he also made you a playlist filled with songs that reminded him of you, and the lyrics or vibes sometimes hit so deep it makes you tear up how much he gets you. this is something recurring between you and vernon - the non-verbal communication. you can literally spend hours and hours with each other without even speaking because you don't need words to understand each other. that's something vernon loves a lot because sometimes he just wants to hold you in his arms, scroll on his phone and not talk at all. both of you often have stay at home dates rather than going out, but vernon always makes sure to plan a fun activity - like building legos, trying to learn how to paint or doing scrapbooking with pics of the two of you. it allows you to test some activities you wouldn't usually have and it's fun when it's with him.

"what are we doing tonight baby ?" - "it's a secret, but i know you're gonna love it."

he stares at you a lot whenever you're doing mundane things - washing the dishes, simply reading or when you're putting on makeup. it's so domestic, it makes his heart beat faster and think about marrying you soon. vernon also does this when you're talking with someone else, staring at you because he just loves to see you live and shine. he always has a faint smile on his lips when he's watching you, and generally, he smiles a lot around you. that's something his members quickly noticed, even before the two of you got together. and you never fail to tell him that you love his smile, and that flusters him every time. actually, every one of your compliments makes him shy. however, he often flusters you very easily with some random words or gestures and gifts that make you fall in love with him even more. vernon is the type to just look you in the eyes and bluntly tell you that you're gorgeous just because it crossed his mind suddenly how pretty you are.

"why are you looking at me like that ? is there something wrong with my makeup ?" - "you're so pretty, i don't understand how it's possible."

if sometimes vernon just wants to stay quiet and not say a word, there are other times where the two of you end up talking for hours, jumping from subject to subject because one of you always has something to tell, something to debate about. when you are talking together, it's like you're inside of a little bubble where only you and vernon exist and you love it. that leads to the both of you having so many inside jokes that nobody gets - you're laughing like maniacs when everyone else around you is just confused and doesn't understand anything. honestly, sometimes your couple looks a little awkward from the outside, but it all fits perfectly and the way you're just so right for him is something vernon still has trouble understanding. sometimes, when he thinks that he doesn't deserve you, that he thinks he doesn't do enough to make you happy, you need to remind him that he's been perfect from the start. you can count the times you saw vernon crying with your fingers, but he knows that every time he's down, he can just let go in your embrace and let himself be vulnerable.

"i feel so safe when you're here, i don't ever want you to leave."

BF!VERNON who's just going with the flow because as long as he's inside of you, it doesn't matter if he's in control or not.

he's much more talkative when it comes to sex because he just cannot shut up when you're doing so good for him. whether it's praises, just some random thoughts, babbling or degrading words, he needs to speak to you through it. when he wants to tease you, he whispers his dirty words directly in your ears, knowing how much it turns you on. when he's just so lost in how good you feel, he just says whatever is on his mind - mostly compliments and swear words. when he's in a more romantic mood, he's constantly praising you, telling you again and again that you're perfect and gorgeous. and vernon also likes it when you're talking to him too, loves to hear you say how good he's making you feel, that you're close or that you want more. generally, the noises you make are really appreciated, even going as far as stopping you from putting your hand over your mouth when you think you're too loud because vernon wants to hear it all.

"shit… you're taking me so well, baby, i don't think i'm going to last if you keep squeezing around my cock like that."

just like vernon loves doing new activities with you, he also loves to experiment in the bedroom. you want to test something ? he's down. you have an unusual fantasy that you want to try ? no problem. after all, there's no harm in doing something out of the ordinary - if you both like it, it's good, and if you don't in the end, then it's okay too, you just won't do it again. that's how he discovered some things he didn't think he would like but that slowly became his favorites, like hair pulling for example. you ask him to pull on your hair all the time when he's taking you from behind, and he loves to do it to punish you too, but he came to wonder how it would feel if you pulled on his instead. so he asked, you did it, and he never wanted you to stop. no matter if he's eating you out or fucking you, vernon wants your fingers tugging on his strands hard enough to make it hurt a little. sometimes, you're pulling at each other's hair, moaning together at the feeling.

"want me to pull on your cute ponytail ? then pull on my hair too, yeah ? fuck, just like that…"

as stated before, he loves to watch you do almost anything, but he loves to watch you get off even more. when you're fucking, he cannot detach his eyes from your glistening folds, from his cock thrusting inside of you or from your face contorting in pleasure. so sometimes, he just leans back and asks you to touch yourself for him. he knows you're frustrated because he's just one feet away and he won't touch you, but he can't help it, he loves to see you masturbate. the fact that you whine about how your fingers cannot reach as deep as his, and that it's not fair gets him so hard. if vernon is in a teasing mood, he will even jerk off in front of you, just to make it "even". the feeling of cumming together, eyes in eyes, while you're both touching yourselves is unmatched for him. also a lot of phone sex is involved, whenever he's away, he calls you at night and asks you to facetime him and show him your cunt, to touch yourself in front of the camera for him. sometimes, he's jerking off too, but sometimes he only watches you reach your orgasm while biting his lips.

"show me your pretty cunt, baby. you're needy ? then put one finger in for me."

[love-byers]

DM-GATE (a st/byler theory)

if you saw this last night, strap in. because this post is about that

so me and @reo-bylerwagon were talking about how weird mike's dialogue is in s4, specifically in his monologue. it's so....corny. his monologue just doesn't sound like stranger things. mike just doesn't talk like that ever. characters who are overly dramatic and corny are made fun of by other characters. the show just doesn't train you to accept something as corny as mike's monologue, especially from MIKE. mike just isn't that kind of character.

we also pointed this dramatic dialogue between mike and will in the van. will's monologue to mike is very sweet but the dialogue is kind of corny too. will compares mike to a knight in shining armor, leading and inspiring as the heart of the party.

and i, in a moment of completely oblivious genius, said "honestly in the monologue he uses the same voice he does when he's dm"

if you don't know what dm is, it means dungeon master. the dungeon master is the one in dnd who leads the adventure, the organizer.

this is the role mike has in season 1 when they're playing dnd. will is also dm in s3 when they briefly play, right before the byler rain fight. eddie is the only other character we see be dm.

dms have to be eccentric, they have to act. they have to be convincing. they have to lead and guide.

in the painting will gives mike, the party are depicted as their dnd characters. so no one can even say this isn't connected to dnd.

"See how you're leading us? You're guiding the whole party, inspiring us. That's what you do.

See your coat of arms here? It's a heart. I know it's sort of on the nose, but that's what holds this whole party together. Heart. Because, I mean, without heart, we'd all fall apart."

in the monologue when will calls back to their conversation in the van, this is symbolic of mike reverting back to his role as dungeon master, as leader. if mike has to lie in the monologue, of course he would pull from a role he's played where he makes things up and sounds convincing.

@reo-bylerwagon gave the best line ever, "he's being the mike in the painting"

and the craziest part is that's CANON. mike is inspired by what will says, he takes it to heart. he feels more confident. he tries to be the mike in the painting. it should be easy, to speak from his heart to el, but it's not, because he's not in love with her. in the monologue, mike is doing the same thing he does when he's dm. he's performing. he's trying to be convincing. he's trying to guide, to inspire.

also, @reo-bylerwagon said that will pushing mike to giving the monologue is giving "MIKE YOUR ACTION!!" WHICH IS SO FUCKING TRUE😭😭

after this realization i went back and watched the scenes where mike is dming. the VERY FIRST LINE OF DIALOGUE we hear in the show is mike dming. "Something is coming, something hungry for blood." and the second line?

i could never put a finger on why mikes language in the monologue seemed so weird. it's because he's talking like a dm. he's using the dramatic language dms use during a dnd session.

@reo-bylerwagon also pointed out that mike and will are piggybacking off of dnd to save el. everyone in the final fight was piggybacking.

will set the stage, mike executed. 

also, i mentioned the only other character see be dm besides mike and will is eddie.

and what is eddie's big moment in s4?

Master of Puppets.

MASTER. OF PUPPETS. DUNGEON MASTER. DUDE.

and another thing

we've all seen this, but it's not only that mike and will's characters are on the book.

it's a dungeon masters guide.

with mike and will's characters on it.

mike and will. the only party members we've seen be dungeon masters.

COME THE FUCK ON.

AND ANOTHER THING

"Dude, that's the donation box."

"I know, I'll just use yours when I come back. I mean...if we still wanna play."

"Well yeah but...what if you want to join another party?"

"Not possible."

this is a dm i got like 2 years ago that changed my brain chemistry:

this is NOT a reach. everything in st is compared to dnd. the duffers are massive dnd nerds. it is not unbelievable that they'd connect this to dnd as well.

[felibrary]

╭──╯GOOD DAYS | even as the snow falls atop his hair and the colorful fireworks launch in the distance, sylus can't help but keep his eyes off of you.

pairing: sylus x reader (gender neutral) | content & warnings: just some toothrotting fluff, bit of banter and bicker, reader is implied to be shorter than sylus, possibly ooc sylus | wordcount: 1.1k ; ficlet

author's note: this is based off his nightplume card with my own little add-ons lolll (also i don't even play lad anymore..so if you see any mischaracterizations here..yeah..)

A/N: Loll finally posted again and it's lad haha, enjoy!!

"sylus, i'm cold."

your boyfriend raises his brow and sighs, having the audacity to act disappointed. "i've warned you about the cold weather. should've listened to me about wearing a scarf," he smirks while you on the other hand only huff, frown deepening.

"well, i didn't know it'd be this cold," you shudder as the snowflakes meet your nape and slowly dissolve.

you're pretty sure you look absolutely ridiculous right now — with a runny nose and a hoarse voice complaining about something you're at fault for, to sylus who simply enjoys watching your dilemma and chuckles in amusement.

there aren’t often moments when sylus feels at ease, always on the lookout if something happens to you when he isn’t around. but he knows that if he stays by your side there won’t ever be something bad happening to you — he makes sure of that and instead decides to enjoy these simple but meaningful moments with you.

so maybe these little moments make him pay less attention to his surroundings than usual, oblivious to the snow that gets stuck in his hair and you can’t help but cackle a bit. “what?” he asks curiously. “there’s snow in your hair,” you point out. sylus’ gaze drifts up for a split-second before smiling and lowering his head. “help me,” his voice is soft as he requests you to help him.

even through hands covered in mittens, you can feel how soft sylus’ hair is, you play with his hair for a bit, rubbing your hand over his head before finally brushing the remaining snow out. “be careful, even a crow can turn into a dove in this weather,” you smile. “a crow? what a funny thing of you to say,” sylus returns your smile before turning his head away from you to look at the fireworks and so do you.

the fireworks are pretty, magnificent even. they vary in size, motive, and color but despite all of that each of them is unique and beautiful in its own way, making it unable to rip your eyes off them..besides maybe one exception.

not even a moment later, the exception in question turns to you, expectant ruby eyes staring down at you before swaying his gaze down to the snow-covered railing, smiling. "want me to draw you?" the turned-up collar of his stuffed leather jacket rises and falls along his neck as he exhales.

you follow his gaze and scoff. "sylus, what are you up to," you mutter under your breath. he doesn't respond, instead his gloved hand meets the metal railing before slowly tracing circles in the snow, and soon after you're able to recognize what he drew — a cat.

“seriously? a cat? i thought i’d at least be something more intimidating like a tiger,” you complain in faux offense. sylus only hums “do you know what you look like right now?” he doesn’t wait for you to respond before tracing lines onto the cat’s forehead.

"like a tiger that meows when it opens its mouth," he says, voice laced with sarcasm. upon seeing it, you can't help but crack a smile. "you're so stupid," you express with a shake of your head. "says the stubborn one who refused to dress warmly," he huffs before turning away from you again.

those ruby eyes full of danger and a lust for adventure soften upon seeing the shower of fireworks being cast in the sky. a mixture of bright red and blue colors paints the sky and casts a light shadow over sylus’ figure. 

you playfully roll your eyes at him, grinning as you scoop some of the snow off the railing. “sylus, you still have snow in your hair, want me to get it out for you?” you offer, a sweet smile gracing your lips. “what, you want to deepen our relationship? but if you insist,” he smirks before lowering his head.

you reach forward and unlike sylus’ expectation your hand lands on his cheek, making his eyes widen in surprise while you bite your bottom lip, suppressing the giggle you’ve been meaning to let out ever since you got the idea. sylus shoots you a boyish smile before flicking his fingers against your forehead which catches you off guard. “unprompted benevolence wasn't out of the kindness of your heart,”

before you’re able to process what’s happening, sylus pulls you into a tight embrace, strong arms snaking around your waist and holding you closely to his chest. "sylus let me go, i can't see the fireworks" you muffle into his jacket. "mhm, but weren't you the one who was complaining about the cold just now?” he says absentmindedly and you gaze up at him as he turns his head to the fireworks. 

his eyes find yours again, ruby eyes locking with yours as he gives you a mirthful smile. i'd rather not let you be exposed to the cold again" you glare at him which seems to amuse him even more because his next move is to pull you closer than before. (which you didn’t even know was possible from how close the two of you were already.)

luckily he lets you go soon after and you breathe in relief and observe him curiously as he pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket — a scarf. you gasp in surprise. “you had a scarf with you all along?” you ask him dumbfoundedly, not sure whether to be grateful for having something to warm your neck which isn’t sylus’ biceps, or if you should feel betrayed that he hid it from you.

“i’ve had a hunch that you’d forget yours in the rush, always so forgetful.” he smiles softly before wrapping the scarf around your neck, twice around your neck, and once around your.. eyes? “sylus, i swear to god.” even with your eyes covered beneath the wool scarf you can practically see sylus smirking to himself. “fine, fine,” he mutters, smiling before removing the scarf from your eyes.

the scarf sits nicely around your neck and not to mention it’s very comfortable and keeps you warm. you exchange glances with sylus before turning your attention to the fireworks again. 

from beneath you, on the riverbank, a bunch of people are lighting up their fireworks before watching after them as they fly into the distance. your eyes follow the fireworks as they light up the night sky and their reflections shimmer on the surface of the river. “the fireworks are so pretty, aren’t they?” you turn to sylus, expecting him to watch the fireworks too, instead you find his ruby eyes fixated on yours. 

“yeah, they really are.”

TAGS: @azullumi we're just gonna ignore the fact that this is dedicated to you and your birthday you oldie gramps of a geezer which was one week ago.....but anyway although i don't want to repeat what i said in my birthday letter (which you haven't read yet LOL) i want to tell you that in such a short period of time you've grown to a person I've learned to love so easily as if it were naturally - which it is. you're so loveable that it makes me wonder how anyone could ever hold a grudge towards you? you're the sweetest soul on earth and i wish i would've been there for your birthday to congratulate you in person but well beggars can't be choosers. azul, you're my soulmate and i appreciate everything about you and everything that you've done for me. i love how clear and easy our communication is, i love our little playful banters that other people find questionable and i love that people associate the two of us together, even when it means mistaking us for one another, which just proves how close we even appear to other people. you're the embodiment of lovely and loveable to me. i love you to death azul and once again happy birthday! <3

© FELIBRARY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[safination]

Partners in Death...and Life.

Part I: Radio's not dead

| Part 2: Radio Will Be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself. | Masterlist| ao3 Pairings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem! reader, established relationship, human!alastor, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) acroace!alastor

"Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow. You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.” “Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?” You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” [Or after a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping . . . *checks notes* . . . the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.]

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You pass the tissue box—the third one already.

Your patient blows his nose, rubbing snot off his snout. He has to stretch his arms to reach his nose. Alligators are known for their long snouts. His nostrils flare when he sniffles.

Used tissue is discarded on the pastel-pink floor despite a pastel-pink trashcan stationed by his webbed feet. It’s been the same pattern for the last fifteen-minutes. Tissue, Sneeze. Floor.

“—and I have this . . . uh . . . like this real bad itch on my eye. I keep rubbing and rubbing but it doesn’t do shit! My eyesight’s gotten worse—It’s already fucked up but this is just different. My roommate hissed at me about getting blood all-over the carpet floors if I kept scratching my scales. Oh. Oh! I’ve been snee—achew!” Alligator snot lands on the pastel-pink floors of the clinic.

Your eyes twitch.

He takes another tissue and waves it around his head. “The top of my head is killing me. Ya’know where that is right?” He blows his nose. “It’s right here,” he says, inching his head closer to you. “The last nurse I went to was blind as a bat! Literally, she had the wings and everything. It was kinda hot.”

“I’m well aware of the location of your head,” you say. “You can lean back now.”

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Pastel pink floor.

Underneath the mix of feathers and hair strands, the bustling of the waiting room catches your ears. Someone curses, booming and violent at another waiting patient. A cough, a sigh, a barf. Painful curses erupt after that. You bring a hand to your ears, wincing as your eardrum ring. Pentagon City’s best and biggest hospital needs better doors, but those lazy sloth fuckers at the top invested at the first material they found.

The alligator sneezes into another tissue. He flicks it with his wrist, and it hits the pastel-pink wallpaper adorned with closed eyes. Maybe Belphegor should be the sin of Pride instead, considering all items are covered in her symbol.

“I really feel like t’was those exterminators ya’know?”

You do not, in fact, know. Half of what this young man says is incomprehensible.

His snout sways left to right when he shakes his head. “It’s only my second one, and this was a close call, and uh . . . well, ever since then I’ve been like this. One even got to my roommate. “

You hum, leaning back on your chair. You should petition to for thicker doors. And while you’re at it, better interior design, and better paint—something that isn’t pastel pink.

“Ugh, and it’s so not cool that this new roommate of mine’s been shedding since the day they moved in,” he says.  “Speaking of shedding, do you think it’s because of those exterminators? Do you think they like spread some sort of weird pollen to make us sick? They’re totally the type to do that.”

You take your pen—your pastel-fucking-pink pen—and poke his alligator sinuses.

Hell does have its own brand of humor. You gave your 20s to studying human anatomy, only to die and find yourself with the need to re-learn the boring part of biology.  (Two books on reptiles, four on mammals, and fifteen on sea creatures.)

“YEOWCH!” His teeth stick out again. You do not know what this means.  “What kind of nurse ar—“

“Doctor.”

“—you? That’s not the top of my head!”

You push back on of the feathers on your head. “Your roommate ‘hissed’ at you? And they’ve been shedding fur for two weeks now.?

“Yeah . . . ?”

You stare at him. “Have you ever considered that you’re allergic to your roommate?”

“Ooooooooooh,” he says. ‘Yeah, I was allergic to cats back when I was alive.”

You grab your (pastel-fucking-pink) prescription pad from the desk drawer. “Control it with some antihistamine. Four pills every 12 hours.”

His teeth start showing. You’re not sure if he’s frowning. It’s hard to tell. “Pills, really?”

You toss what you were writing into the massive pile of germs, mucus, and tissue. “I can give you a nasal spray. I’ll flush the mucus then insert a spray that prevents build-up,” you say. “They last for two weeks and then you’ll need to come back.”

He grabs the last tissue from the box. It still lands on your floor. “Ma’am nurse, do you have any more of this?”

You sigh and reach for a fourth box of tissue. “It’s doctor,” you say. “We keep nasal sprays here in the clinic. I’ll just grab one and you’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

“No can do,” he says. “Before I died, my coach told me to stay away from that non-organic shit. It’ll mess us up real bad apparently. All those steroids.”

“You have phencyclidine sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Pheny—what?”

“ . . . Angel Dust.”

“The porn star?”

“The drug. You have drugs sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Come on, nurse—”

Threads erupt from your fingers. It snakes around his wrist, coiling and twisting.

He jerks his arm away and cries out when you tighten your hold. Your threads wrap around his legs. It pulls against his waist. Magic binds his arms, and tightens around every joint he owns.

You stop, only when the alligator struggles, trashing against the clinic chair.  His teeth bare and he snaps at whatever he can reach. You tug on one of the thousands of strings digging into his skin. His jaw snaps shut, and it will stay shut. Another tug and his back stretches to straighten. You move your fingers as if a piano laid before you, and he sits up like a good puppet.

Another month of clinic dury will be your punishment if those sloth from down below are lucid enough to do their jobs.Sadly, killing this idiot would have you suspended for three months.

“I am a doctor,” you tell him. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

The tension on your strings marks even the few scales scattered on his body. He’s a real idiot if he continues to struggle.

Delicate movements of your fingers bring him forward, his back still strained, and tilt his snout at a forty-five-degree angle.

Your threads elongate as you move toward the clinic drawers. It loosens around you, careful at keeping you able to move freely. It’s one of the handier parts of your magic. You shake your hands and the threads detach. It sticks to the floor to keep the alligator as your puppet. You scrub your hands thoroughly before taking the nasal spray and filling with with distilled water.

You place on nitrite gloves. It’s always best when dealing with bodily substances such as mucus.

You place a pan underneath and jam the tube up his nostrils, hosing his sinuses with water. The tension of his binding keeps him still. (If you ignore his whining, then that’s your business. The brawl you heard from the waiting room drowned it all out anyway.) He starts breathing better when all the snot flushes to the pan.

“Finished,” you say with satisfaction. You grab your prescription pad and write one for a nasal spray. “I cleared the mucus buildup so you shouldn’t feel any more headaches. The spray will keep your nose clear for as long as you use it. Come back if you start to feel any discomfort. For the rashes just get cream.” You point at the pastel pink door. “The exit’s right there.”

The threads dissolve in the air. He rubs his wrist, trying to soothe the red marks that your strings bring. You hand him the signed prescription.

He doesn’t close the door on his way out.

The broom and dustpan are hidden in one of the taller cabinets—pastel-pink like everything else in the room.

(Well, not everything. The radio sitting on the corner of the counter gives a splash of red into the room.)

You sweep the tissues into the dustpan. Your control over your strings is much more proficient when living beings are involved. Inanimate objects whip around when you use your magic on them, and radios have been difficult to purchase recently. It’s more convenient to clean using your own hands.

“Tagatha,” you call out when the floor is clean. “You can bring in the next one in.”

Silence is your reply.

“Tagatha?”

Your ears quirk. The noises are faint—an occasional cough, silent weeping, and muted voices coming from the television. You peek out the door, eyeing the crowd formed around the corner of the hall where a pAstel-pInK television mounts on the wall.

The door closes with a faint click. You sink into the cushions of the office chair. Vox’s yapping bore you. It was probably some man-child debate about the new extermination date.

Although . . . those serialized dramas he produces, sadly, are interesting enough to be consumed. If asked for your honest opinion, you’d tell them that they were a hot pile of smelly garbage, but you like to leave it playing mindlessly in the background.

Your husband will throw the television out the window the first chance he’ll get.

Too bad he’s occupied.

You grab a piece of paper from the drawer. Management is forcing you to write a thousand-word formal apology. There are about three-hundred words left to write.

Getting caught dissecting the dead bodies from the morgue is a mistake that won’t be repeated. One dead body and suddenly those lazy fuckers have diligence weaved into their DNA.

The body was already dead, and it’s not every day a chance to poke around a chimera’s entrails appears.

The sinner would contribute to something meaningful at least. You’re stuck on clinic duty until you dot your last sentence, and not a moment before

The coffee’s cold now, but consumable.

You reach across the desk, feeling for the knob of the radio. You twist until you feel the clink. Music fills the air—the same twenty-five songs on a loop. You stare at the radio for a moment. Just . . . a small . . . single moment.

 . . . On your kitchen counter, that second cup of coffee should be cold by now. It’s always cold when you trudge through the door. It’s been cold and untouched for years.

Yet, without fail, that second cup you brew will always be waiting for its owner.

“Salutations!” You snap your head to the radio. “Good to be back on the air.”

Huh? The feather on your hair preens. You swipe the radio, your hold on it feather-light.  You turn the knob responsible for volume. The static noise stings your eardrums.

“—ile since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!”

Murmurs erupt outside your door. You blink and find yourself slamming it open. One foot after another, one step after the other, brings you closer to the television. Your shoulder throbs when you bump into someone, but you keep pushing until you see Vox and his tacky suit enlarged on the screen.

“What a dated voice!”

A reply comes from the radio. “Instead of a clout-chasin’ mediocre video podcast.”

Your feather rises higher. Laughter escapes your lips, it leaves a dry taste. That . . . that ṁ̵̭͔̲̙̦͎̝̜̲̠͙͇̂̏̃̐̂̓̊̂̕̕o̴̢̭̝̙̤̬͚͐̅͗̌̇̂̌̕ţ̷̛̝̂̿h̶̯̟̙̲̘̟̟͙͔̔̋͊̋̿̐͘͜͜ę̶̗̰͔̫͔̗̝̘̻̰̓̓̈̊͜r̵̨̂̏f̶͖̻̱̺͕̹̫̭̠̚u̸̬̺̯̟̦͖̅̂́́̌̚͝ć̴̖͙̰͈͕̉͌̈́́̈̔̀̉̍́͜͠ḳ̴̨̧̗̫̗͖̞̟̑͌̂̀̈́̀͆͒ę̷̛͓̼̟͍̆̆́͆̾͛͝r̵̹̮̤͓̗̹̈́̎̉͌̾͌̏͑̋̚͝.

“Doctor!” Tagatha screeches when she spots you. “I am so sorry. I’ll bring in the next one right away!”

Your eyes are trapped by the screen and your ears by the radio. “It’s alrig—”

Tagatha grabs the closest person to her and shoves you back into the clinic. The door slams shut just as everything goes dark and silent. (Well, it’s not completely dark, once your eyes adjust you can still see as if the lights were open. Another small perk to this body). Your radio, along with the power, stopped working.

“Oh my!” Your new patient bleats.

“We have generators,” you find yourself saying. “I’m sure the power will come on in a minute.”

The cushions of the chair do little to ease your nerves. You pat your hair, trying to get it in control. A pile of feathers starts forming on the PASTEL-FUCKING PINK FLOORS. T̴̹̜͇̅̅͗͜H̶̰̗̄Ơ̶̡̡̻̗͖̋̎̓̓S̴̨͉̝̻͋̽̆́͆Ẹ̸̡̢͐͐͠ ̷̨͚̞̙̀͒̆̆͊Ŭ̵͕̲̪͇͓͐̚G̷̹̝̦̬͊͒Ḷ̶̭͓̎̏̈͘Y̶͇̟̍̉̚ ̷̟͎͕̞͂͑̂̇À̶͉̍̄̈̚S̸͖̖͕͑̏͛̈́S̶͚̤̼̯̀ ̶̻͆P̷̬̝̉Ä̵͕́͊̌S̸̢͍̆̓͝Ṫ̸͖̲̠̾̉͜͝E̷̺͆L̷͖̏͐́͝ ̶̛̟̽͝P̷̪̔͜I̴̹̥̹͖̮͒́̏͘N̸̳̙̼̾̆̿Ķ̶̟̞̜̉͊̓̂̚ ̵͈̬̃̿̄̈́̋F̵̨̨̼̫̘͘L̸̙̠͎̓̆́O̷̧̘͚͉̤̓O̷̤̟̱̼̤͋̍͐R̷̰̝̓͌̌Ș̵̲̝̈́ “Excuse me?” You will paint this room red with the blood of management.  You tap your foot again, and again, and again. “ . . .Doctor?”

Your neck snaps in her direction, eyes wide and staring.

“The . . . uh . . . the lights are back.”

You blink at your patient—huh, she’s a goat. “I apologize,” you say, smiling. “Please, tell me, what brings you here in this hellish afternoon.”

She holds up her bleeding arm. “It’s been like this since the extermination,” she explains. “Some angle got me. Luckily, I was able to run off before I was finished. I thought it would heal on its own like it usually does but it just hasn’t. It keeps bleeding.”

“Well, angel-induced injuries are my specialty,” you say. Tucked away to the side, a mirror hangs. You catch your reflection, and you blow your hair away from your vision, your red sclerae “This will cost you. Injuries caused by angels are . . . difficult to stitch, but not impossible—not for me at least.”

“Oh, yes.” She bleats one more “Dear God, where are my manners? I’m sorry can I ask for your name?”

Your smile widens. “Of course. I’m—"

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“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow.

You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.”

“Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?”

You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” He steps closer to take a peek. You watch him as his eyes gloss over your matches then your needle driver, then the alcohol lamp. His smile wobbles when he lands on the syringe.

You move the tray, dropping it down on the little cart by the examination chair.

“There’s no need to worry.” You beam at him. “I have the steadiest hands in this city.”

“Hmmmm,” he says. “You must be the other doctor then.”

“Not at all.” You point to your uniform, where the initial ‘NP’ is embroidered next to your name. “Just the nurse practitioner.”

He takes a closer look and reads your name. “Then I have no reason to fret. None at all! In my experience, doctors usually have their noses buried in their books. It’s the nurses that actually get the hands-on experience.” Alastor’s hands move when he talks. “What’s such a talented practitioner doing in such a dinged-up clinic?”

“Management caught me in the morgue dissecting the dead—It’s how I practice my stitches.”

“Really, now?”

You bark a laugh. “Not at all—I’m far too smart to get caught.”

“A witty sense of humor and a steady hand! I am in good hands, indeed.”

You take a seat on the rolling stool. “Yes, yes,” you say, waving your wrist. “You make fine compliments, Sir. I’ll be sure to be extra gentle.” You point towards the examination chair. “But, please hurry to the chair. You’re dripping blood on my floor.”

Alastor glances down. His eyebrows furrow as he glares at where the blood seeps from his sleeve . . . almost . . . almost as if he’s angry. “My apologies,” he says, allowing his blood to drip to the floor.

Alastor shrugs off his coat. It’s rare to see such a dark red—only a few choose such a color. You hum. Alastor is a well-dressed gentleman. Lovely. Those are your favorite kind. He drapes his coat over the spare chair, ignoring the coat racks the clinic provides.

You turn away and wheel yourself closer to one of the drawers on the counter. It takes two attempts until you find the stash of sterile gloves. “Take your seat when you’re ready,” you say. “I’ll take a look once you are.” You place the gloves on the little green cart, right next to your tray.

Alastor takes his seat, landing with an audible ‘humph’. He smiles at you, sleeves rolled and arm ready. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You hold your palm out. “May I?”

His smile wobbles—it’s a small change in expression that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking. “Of course.”

Along his forearm, a long and sharp cut wounds him. The sight of grime that covers the opened abrasions makes you inwardly cringe. You need to clean these as soon as possible. “Why was this not checked sooner?” You rest his hands on the armrest and use your foot to bring the cart closer. “This looks old, and not at all like a freshly deep cut. I prefer it when patients come to me with fresh wounds.”

You grab a bowl with distilled water and pour in a sterile solution. “I assumed it would heal on its own,” he tells you. “It was quite a surprise when it did not.”

“I need to clean this before you die of infection.” You dip his arm into the bowl. He remains silent, but you feel the tension of his muscles under your fingers. “Hopefully there will be no next time, but just in case, next time, please don’t wait a month.”

He laughs, and there, you faintly see it—a twitch in his eye. “It was only a week actually.”

You smile to yourself. “I’d prefer it if it was only a few hours.” You dry his arm with a soft towel, his arm still tensed underneath your touch. “There, much better.”  You release your hold to go to a shelf filled with different labeled vials and select the one you need. With the clean syringe, you draw the contents of the vial. “You’ll feel a bit of a pinch,” you say. You tap its side. “It’s morphine— wouldn’t want you screaming and writhing”

You study his face for a second. There’s just that same dismissively polite smile.

“You can look away if you wish,” you tell him. “It’s why we pin such . . . er . . .interesting decorations around. . . . May I?”

You feel it again when Alastor inches his arm closer. His muscles tense under your touch. It’s almost as if he wishes to pull away. You keep your hold feather-light, but firm.

“Are you a hunter by any chance?” you ask. You don’t prick him—not yet. Not when tension coils in your hold.

“You could describe it that way,” he says, chuckling like he’s told a humorous joke. (You don’t understand why.)

“I figured you were.”

Alastor slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You inject the morphine into his skin, right inside the soft pink tissue. Good. Alastor relaxes when he speaks, it seems. “I do love a good hunt,” he says. “How ever did you know.”

You release your hold and discard the syringe. “Your hands are rough,” you tell him. “And hunters always have this silly notion that injuries magically heal given enough time—along with farmers, actually. Although, farmers are usually much more deluded.”

He flashes that same polite smile. “I'm guessing you’re not a hunter then?”

“How ever did you know?”

You watch his eyes flicker to your palms as you re-arrange the needles. “Delicate hands.”

You flash the same polite smile right back at him. You take a match, and light the alcohol lamp.

Soap spreads all over your palms and up your arm as you scrub your hands. You slip your hands into the sterilized gloves, careful not to contaminate the surface. “I’ll begin now.”

Alastor hums in reply.

You take a scapple and pass it over the flame. You poke him, lightly, but he doesn’t react. Satisfied, you cut back fibrous tissue underneath the skin. You replace the scapple with a needle driver. There was a quiet click when you pinch the tiny curved needle. You pass it over the flame as well. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me how many stars are on that wall over there?

Alastor turns to look at you, but you block his eyes with your palm, shielding him from your stiches.

“The wall isn’t over here.”

“I assure you, I’m not afraid of a silly needle.”

“I’m sure you are,” you say. “However, you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. The last three people who said that took one look and started squirming. One even fainted. It makes your life miserable, and my job harder.

He counts.

“Out loud please.”

He does as he’s told, rather reluctantly.

Hands steady and determination set, you pierce the soft pink tissue with your needle The tissue nearest to the surface is always delicate. You’re certain not to catch any fat in your suture, for fat dies, and a loose stitch is useless. “Well, isn’t this fun!” he says. “I really feel nothing.”

Your concentration does not break. “I don’t remember there only being twenty-six stars. I’m positive there are more.”

“Why is someone as talented as you only a nurse practitioner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nurse,” you reply, tugging on the needle. “Well . . .we . . . we certainly could be paid more.”

“Why not become an actual doctor then?”

“My father couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t send me . . . and . . . hmm.” You smoothly pull the suture thread and begin the next stitch. “And I enjoy this.”

He looks down at you. “Is this all you’ll be satisfied with?”

You focus back on your stitching, hiding your glare. You bring your needle underneath the flesh, making sure to catch the soft tissue. You’re doing an uncommon stitch, but it would be a shame to leave a scar. “You sound familiar.”

You pause to look at him, His smile brightens, and it actually looks like a genuine elated smile. “Why, I’m a radio broadcaster. You might have heard me there.”

“Oh yes,” you hum, turning back to your stitching. “Alastor . . . I remember now. The ladies and I listen to your broadcast as we do our crafts.”

“Knitting?”

“I personally prefer embroidery,” you say. “I get to practice my stitching and make beautiful art.” You pull the thread and begin a new one, stitching his skin like they were shoe laces. “You’re quite the humorous gentleman, I must say, and quite a lovely taste in music. We enjoy your broadcast very much”

“Do you have any of your artworks here?” he asks you. “I would be eager to see them.”

“Maybe next time.” You tug the suture, and his laceration snaps to a close. You tie a knot and snip the end. “Unfortunately, I’ve finished your stitches.”

“Next time then.”

You discard your gloves and go back to the shelf with the vials. You fill up another syringe. You jam the needle into his skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to scare him a bit. “To prevent infection.”

He jerks away from you. “What happened to that gentle touch of yours?”

“It’s still a sharp object, Sir. They tend to hurt.” You smirk and carefully clean the remaining blood on the skin around the sutured wound. You take a bandage from your cart and begin wrapping it around his forearm, covering your sutures. “Don’t forget to drink your pills every 8 hours, with a meal in your stomach, preferably. Replace the dressing every three days. You can come back here or if you’re able to do so, you can change them yourself. Any by the good God, please, visit the nearest hospital should this incident repeat.”

Alastor slides off the examination chair. He grabs his coat as if you didn’t just stitch him close. You start packing when you notice him fixing his bow tie, and smoothing his hair. Huh . . .There’s blood on his coat, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Like he’s used to having it there. Like it’s just something he’s learned to live with. “You were wrong by the way.”

“Pardon?”

“It was quite the pleasure to meet you.”

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Next Part |Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Hello, welcome to the hell that's been plaguing my head. In case you didn't know Belphegor is the ruler of the sloth ring, and she seems to be in charge of medical-related stuff in Hell. I have the story mostly plotted out, it's just a matter of writing it down. If you have any questions, ask away

[ggsbooks123]

Memory Garden

peeta mellark x female mc (Jude Slone)

summary; you made haymitch promise, if it came down to you or Peeta that he’d save Peeta. And he did. But now you’re back from the Capitol with one thing certain, Peeta Mellark is the one true enemy.

warnings: angst angst angst, mean thoughts ab peeta beloved and honestly just a lot of writing i didn’t need to do

———

Peeta did this.

The mantra floated through my head, as I yanked on the restraint again.

He’s the reason everyone you love is against you.

Another yank.

He blew up District 12

“Jude, feeling hungry yet?” Haymitch’s voice breaks the static but the mantra just quietens but doesn’t stop. My hand drops the bind.

“What do you have?” It was a better response than i’d given lately. What if Peeta tried to kill me and poisoned my portion… I couldn’t risk it. “No, I don’t want it”

He sighs, still coming towards me with the tray “I promise you, Peeta doesn’t want you dead. You know that, think”

I scowled, “I know what I saw. I know what he did. He’s a monster, Haymitch. Don’t make me, I dont want his filthy blood on my hands” He scoffed, dropping the tray onto the table next to me.

“Let’s hope lover boy comes and feeds you bevause I’m not putting up with this” And with that he leaves the room.

I glanced at the tray, tomato soup with toast coated in possibly cheese, but it’s not the delicious toast that catches my eye, the soup, it’s not red. They’ve added ingredients to make it appear more orange… Not bright orange.

A sunset.

“I still remember that Christmas he brought me that green sweater. Green doesn’t suit me” I say, the air was brisk and I hated walking in the Winter but I couldn’t turn Peeta down when he came to my door.

“I refuse to believe you look bad in anything” I scoff, glad it’s cold knowing he might take that as thhe reason my cheeks are now red. “What is your favourite colour?”

I raise my eyebrow at him “I’m sure there are better things to talk about then my favourite colour”

He watches me as we walk for a moment “I don’t see anything more important” It makes me slow to a stop, “Tell me, please. I want to know”

I look to him, his kind blue eyes and blond hair that looks incredibly soft without all those products they use during interviews, he looks beautiful.

“It used to be red but I think i’m leaning towards purple” I shrug, “It’s only fair that i’ve revealed that secret you tell me yours”

He smiles before looking up at the sun, it’s setting letting the streaks of orange paint the sky “Orange, right there. It’s the second most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen” I glance at him unsure as to why he’d say second until I see the look in his eyes.

My head snaps at the memory, cruel and unforgiving. That’s what Peeta was, and he would hurt me so I had to kill him before he tried first.

His face twists in the memory as I replay it over and over again, he doesn’t look like himself, Hatred flared in a moment that was full of pure adoration. I see it now like i’m looking through a camera at the two of us.

He looks like he loves me… Then his eyes lose their spark like a snap and he’s spitting awful words at me, one’s ill never forget.

I’ll never forget he’s the reason i’m like this.

—

The food goes cold and I go another day without eating and under sedation after I nearly come out of binding when they try to insert the needle into my arm to get food into my body.

I awake in an empty room but there’s a buzz in the air, I look to the mirror across from me. I look better than I did the first time I looked inside, I’d look better if I ate proper food but I can’t, he wants me dead and he won’t fail again.

The door hisses open bringing my attention away from my strangely hair, Katniss stands at the door, tears in her eyes.

“You need to eat something” She whispers but the room is so quiet i’m not surprised if she can hear my blaring thoughts or the alarm going off in my head.

“Get out” I spit, turning away from her. Katniss was close to Peeta, never too close for respect of me which I hated now, she should have stopped whatever was forming between the two of us. Now it’s this. “I don’t want to see you.”

“It’s been months, I thought-“ She tries to speak but she stops when my head snaps to her aswell, her eyes are searching my face. I still look awful, I know that and it seems she still hasn’t come to terms with what I had gone through. Why don’t they see it’s his fault? Always.

“He’s the reason this happened to me, Katniss. And you’re still going to side with him. If you don’t kill him then he’ll kill me Katniss, Don’t you see!” I scream, her back hits the door and it hisses open and my heart stops.

There, he is. He’s not expecting the door to open, the surprise on his face is evident as those blue eyes bore into mine and I steel myself preparing for the hatred, his attempts to end my life.

But neither happen, he watches me with nothing but sadness and his hands are empty, just slack at his sides as he takes a step forward and I’m frozen, It’s not making sense.

He keeps coming closer and my heart is beating out my chest. Run! He’s going to kill you! My head screams but he doesn’t look like he will kill me, he looks like he wants to be next to me and holding me through this, possibly the one feeding me the tomato soup like Haymitch suggested.

“Jude… Please, I’d never-“ He seems to choke on his words as a tear slips down his cheek “Come back to me” Come back and trust me so I can kill you, I hear instead. The words make me flinch, the movement is so large the whole bed moves with me, screeching.

He backs away, the door hisses open again but he doesn’t move to get out “You’re just here to kill me!” I cried, wishing him out of the room.

Get out. Get out. Get out!!!

I must’ve screamed the last time because he’s gone and finally the screaming in my head stops and I fall to the bed, the thought of food or anything fades, only the want to be far from him stays.

—

I am Jude Slone, I won the 73rd hunger games, i’m from District Twelve and Peeta Mellark does not want me dead.

I repeat in my head over and over again, as the truck rolls over cracks and bumps, my body jumps at each bit of debris we hit and I hit the metal seat hard each time but the pain is real. Which is hard to say about a lot lately.

Peeta Mellark wants doesn’t want you dead.

I shake my head, thst one was the hardest to remember and at times, it was no where reachable and all that would sustain me in that moment would be his blood on my hands.

Finally the truck pulled to a stop, I straightened my shoulders. I’d been taken by the Capital and my memories have been distorted, my first thought may not always be the right one.

With that final word of encouragement I let the anxiety slip from me as the back door opens and I’m led out. The sun blinds me for a moment, I’d only seen it for a moment when they made me leave base but only to be stuffed back in the van.

Now I could see the destruction. His fault. No, no, no. I took a deep breath, before turning to seeing the loving welcome party at the front of what seemed to be an abandoned building.

Katniss with her bow, Gale with his crossbow and the five members of their squad had their guns trained on me, including Peeta. My heart hammered but I kept upright as I took the empty gun from the guard before waltzing my way towards the group.

I am Jude Slone, I won the 73rd Hunger Games, I am from Distrisct 12 and None of these people want me dead.

“What is she doing here?” Katniss is the first to speak and though her eyes are trained on me, i know she doesn’t want me to answer.

“Coin wants her to be shown on screen, the victors fighting on the same side” A dark man, who screamed military spoke and he was the only one besides Finnick who hadn’t raised their gun at me. “I don’t like the gun”

“Cant have me fighting with my bare hands on screen” I mutter, before shaking the weapon “It’s empty”

The tension seemed to ease slightly in the group but while half of them had lowered their weapons, Peeta, Katniss and Gale hadn’t. I had to remember what I’d been like this past month, I wouldn’t trust me either.

“I don’t like this” Peeta. His words cut deep and I deflate at them before the military man waves everyone to come inside, not before a solider by the name of Jackson, she told me, quietly instructed me that i’d be restrained for their safety.

“I understand, but I’m not a child”

“No just someone who went through a lot of shit” Finnick says behind Jackson, and my eyes dart up. I didn’t know where my mind stood with Finnick, I didn’t feel like killing him but I hadn’t felt like killing Peeta a moment ago but we all knew it would come.

It was why I was being restrained in the first place. I nod at his words, unsure of how to respond before they lead me inside. The wall along the door was made of glass and I watched as the van that stopped me off, vanished in the distance.

I was stuck here and I didn’t know if I would ever leave this ruin of a city. I kept my distance from the group as they moved into the centre and I took a seat beside the window.

“We’ll have to set up an around the clock guard on her, we can take shifts” Military man said, turning to look at me. “I’ll take the first shift, Names Boggs.”

I preferred Military man but I nodded all the same, “I want a shift” Peeta’s voice is small compared to Boggs but it silences the room all the same.

“Not happening” Jackson speaks up this time, confusing me on who’s in command.

“I can do it!” Peeta argued back, standing from his seat “It’s not her… The Capital killed her and whoever they sent back to us, i’ll be happy to put a bullet in its head” I flinched, turning my eyes down to my hands. Clenching them, was I dead? The girl I was? I shake my head, I am Jude Slone and I did not die in the Capital. They broke me but I am not unfixable. I am broken not unfixable.

I am unfixable.

“I’m not sure seeing as a mutt helps” Jackson declares but Boggs cuts her off

“Give him a shift, Katniss too.” There was no room for argument as Jackson nodded and began to schedule the guard clock. I wanted to be more helpful, tell them that maybe they could go an hour and they could all rest, but I didn’t even trust myself to do that.

Instead I kept silent, letting the rest of them discuss our plan while I watched the day pass by through the glass. “How’re you feeling?” Finnick’s voice from beside me makes me jump. I turn to him and he looks almost glowing, I’d heard something about him and Annie.

I knew I would feel happy for him if I didn’t feel so disconnected. Finnicks memories that came to mind now only brought warmth, nothing haunting. Which was relieving, he was a breath of fresh air.

“Away, I feel like everything’s happening and I’m not really here” I try to explain and he seems to understand. “I don’t want to be a problem, I don’t know why they sent me here… I’m not ready.”

He frowns, “I think you’re where you need to be, normally whenver Annie gets confused she asks me, and I promise you, you’ll find nothing but the truth here” I glance over to the group who had begun to seperate and close their eyes.

It must be Finnicks shift. The thought made this whole encounter turn cold but still, I took in his words as my eyes trained on the baker boy. “Peeta was the reason this happened to me… Real?”

He shakes his head, “You made Haymitch swear if it came down to the two of you that he’d get Peeta to safety” Finnick explained but my mind screamed at me that he was lying. Why would I ask that? Peeta and I didn’t get along, no, we did and we’d almost- I didn’t know what we almost did or if he hated me or loved me and it made me want to rip my hair out as my thoughts banged against my head.

He was not the reason you went to the Capital, you chose this. You didn’t want him to go through this… That felt right, staring at him now, I would never wish upon him those nights in the Capital.

“I know it must be hard. Annie went through a lot but they know that the Capital never left you alone, you were their main priority.” Finnick places a hand on my shoulder, bringing my fully to the present for what felt like the first time. “None of us blame you at all for what happened.

I forgot how long it’s been since someone had been gentle with me. Skin to skin, human contact. My body released its pressure, relaxing in my seat. “Thank you, Finnick”

He smiled before sitting up straighter, and we together sat in silence watching the night sky slowly fall upon us as the rest that were awake finally knocked off

“Get some rest” Finnick muttered to me softly, tapping my leg as he got up. I could see his eyes dropping a while ago but he still stayed and it relieved me that he was finally putting himself first.

I nodded, I would not be sleeping tonight. Each time I closed my eyes another memory would wash over me, I’ve started to get better at knowing if it’s real or not without verification.

Like the one of Peeta and Is confession of our favourite colours, it was easier to picture him smiling at me now instead of anger and whenever it did dissolve to the image it was almost too perfect, his freckles gone and the scar he got from the 75th games vanished, as did the dark circles under my eyes and the few strands out of place were perfectly flat. Too perfect.

I watched Finnick rouse Peeta and point over to me. Of course, I could only get so lucky. I heard someone clear their throat before they took a seat across from me. I didn’t look up. I didn’t know where my mind would jump to.

And he seemed to take the message, he didn’t try to speak to me either. She asks me. I promise you’ll find nothing but truth here.

Finnick was right, I couldn’t close myself off and hope I’d be able to fix myself. If it was that easy, I’d be normal again. “Finnick told me that whenever i’m having trouble differentiating real from not real I should just ask…”

I glanced up at him, in the darkness it was hard to make out his uniform but his blonde hair and pale skin were easy to spot and it made my body tingle as I registered just how close he was and I didn’t feel like wringing my hands around his neck. Relief.

“Shoot away” I raised an eyebrow “Not literally” I smiled softly at that before cycling through my head and I settled back into his favourite colour. What if I asked and his favourite was blue or something? Sunset orange was just another lie they filled into my head. Ask.

“Your favourite colour. It’s sunset orange, real? Not real?” I clench my fists, please. please.

“Real… Yours used to be red but after the hunger games you couldn’t stand it” He explained, and he was right. I used to tie a red bow into my hair everyday until my reaping now the colour reminded me of the slaughter in the 73rd Hunger games.

“But you said you were beginning to like purple… I remember that day, I told you the sunset was the second most beautiful thing i’d ever seen… And the first was right in front of me” I stiffened, though the confession didn’t shock me, looking back I could’ve seen it if I looked hard enough in the moment “And it’s killing me, bevause you’re right in front of me again but you’re like the stars I can’t reach. I… Can adore you from afar but that’s all I can do. And it feels really, really shitty, knowing we might never get through this”

He stands abruptly from his seat “I can’t do this” And he storms out, but I’m clenching my fists too tight to stop, swearing at every god to let this memory stay and not be corrupted by fear. I can adore you from afar but that’s all I can do because if I came closer you’d kill me. Was the truth.

— — —

do we want a part two?!?

part two out now!

[makeyoumine69]

Being Bateman’s Soulmate | HEADCANON

Pairing: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader; CW: Romance & Angst; Links: [MASTERLIST]; Song Rec: The Cure — Lovesong; A/N: This is dedicated to everyone who is madly in love with their fictional crush! 💗 If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

— “Soulmate? What the fuck does that word even mean?” Bateman would say the first time you mentioned it. His reaction would amuse you at first, although you knew that Patrick would understand its meaning in time, and that feeling when you could touch another person's soul as if it were material. The feeling of wanting to scream because you were so in love that you couldn't even believe it was possible to have such feelings. All of this would eventually overwhelm him, and then he'd never want it to end.

— "You think I have a soul, huh?" He would smile whenever you had sentimental conversations, and even though Bateman kept repeating that he didn't like them, you would sometimes see him sitting alone, thinking about his life before he met you. Did you make his life better? Well, was it even possible to judge such things? Since nothing in this world could be black or white, it was always gray.  But with you, his life was painted in new colors.

— “I remember you telling me that your favorite color was red.” Red like the blood that spilled on his perfect sheets whenever he treated you too rough, but you never asked him to stop. Sometimes those little scarlet spots on the white sheets could look like petals from the red roses Bateman used to give you, even though he knew how clichéd that was. "Why didn't you tell me to stop?" The man would ask, tracing his long finger over the red marks on your hip.  Sighing, you would roll onto your stomach and give him your most devoted look. "Because I like it," and that was all he needed to hear from you. "I'd tell you if I didn't." Having said that, you would sit up to find his lips and kiss him, slowly but eagerly, transmitting all the love and emotion you had for him through that kiss.

— "If you say you love me, why does it hurt so much?" He would ask you this question over and over again after he had a breakdown because he was so overwhelmed by everything you were giving him: your care, your affection, your understanding, and your support. Eventually, it all became too much for him, and when Patrick realized that he was probably in love with you, a sharp pain coursed through the very small pitch of his body like an electric impulse. He loved you so much it hurt.

— One night, you were sitting in the living room in Bateman’s slick apartment and watching some classic romantic comedy from the 1930s, the scenes from it made you think about something you never expected you would. "Patrick, have you ever thought about death?" You asked suddenly, holding his hand and noticing how tense he became. "I mean... I'm afraid of death because I don't want to be without you, if that makes any sense." At first, Patrick just laughed and gently moved closer to you, hugging your shoulders possessively. "Can you promise me that... if there is an afterlife, you will find me there?" Nearly sobbing, you looked into his dark, brown eyes, at the way his eyebrows furrowed as the man considered his answer. "And we will be together even after death?" Your voice cracked at the weight of your words, never before had you dared to speak of such things.

— The question of death, an abstract yet intimately familiar topic, drew a thoughtful arch to his brow. Death was not a stranger to him, nor was it an adversary he feared-not in the way that the average person might. "Death," Patrick began, his voice tinged with a cold amusement that belied the gravity of the subject. "It's the only certainty in life, isn't it? A final transaction, one we all must make." His arm tightened around you, a gesture that feigned warmth but held an undercurrent of something sharper. Bateman met your gaze, the hazel of his eyes unreadable yet intense, reflecting the black-and-white dance of images on the screen. "If there is an afterlife," he continued, weighing each word like a coin on a scale, "I'll find you. But let's not be so morose, darling." The man leaned in, his lips brushing your ear, his breath a whisper that carried the scent of the red wine you had shared earlier. "Life is for the living, and I intend to savor every moment I have with you. Making promises about the afterlife is... morbidly romantic, but unnecessary. I have you now, and you have me. Isn't that enough?"

— And that was even more than enough.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile V

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: I think I wrote more for this chapter. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter dear readers. Let me know what you think about it.

“ You look.. dishearten, my friend”

You sighed as you looked at your friend: Alice. She was one of the first female friends you made 6 years ago at school. She was one of the sweetest girls you have ever met. She had long blonde locks with beautiful sapphire eyes, her voice sounded like a siren’s song. You were proud to be her friend, almost all of the boys who laid their eyes upon her were almost falling to their knees ready to propose to her. 

“ I have no idea what to do for Alastor’s birthday.” you sighed “ no idea of a present.”

Alice clapped in her hand with a big grin and you couldn’t help but scoff at her radiance. She always loved when you were talking about yours and Alastor’s relationship. You didn’t really know why but she wanted to meet him.  Well… yes, you knew why. Alastor was … He was…

“ How old is he ?” she asked you as she drank her cup of tea.

“ Well, he is going to turn seventeen. So I want to make him something special.” you sighed once again as you laid your cup of hot chocolate on the table. 

“ How long have you known each other ? “

“ Almost eight years.” you smiled fondly. Eight years. You’ve been friends with Alastor for eight years and you have loved every single year. You looked into your cup of hot chocolate, the colour reminded you of Alastor’s eyes. Alastor wasn’t a little boy anymore, he had become taller. Taller than you, his frame was more muscular thanks to his hunting trip, he had become more teasing, sneakier, and cunnier but the biggest problem was… He had become so handsome. He lost his chubby cheeks, now his jaw was sharp, his eyes were even more intense than before when he was interested in something, he was–

“ Should I let you alone with your chocolate~?” you jerked your head toward Alice who had a teasing smile on her lips. You chuckled while shaking your head, blushing a little. You daydreamed again ! “ Why do you not want me to meet him, I really want to meet your beau, you know? I have never seen you like this, never did someone make you react like this.”

“ Listen… He is.. an important childhood friend and he can be … intense sometimes. I don’t think you could handle him.” you said as you sipped your drink. You didn’t feel comfortable making Alastor and Alice meet. You knew that Alastor could be an ass sometimes and Alice was too sweet to … understand it ? “ But back to the topic, what should I give him for his birthday …”

“ From what you told me, he seems to really care about you, and with this war going on, I’m sure he’d rather you kept your money.” she smiled at you as you bit your lips. That was the problem. Alastor was going to be 17 years, next year he would turn 18. That means he … would be taken to war right? You felt yourself getting paler as many scenarios went inside your head. 

The only good news was that his father had been dragged to war, unfortunately just like yours, meaning that Alastor and Marie were finally alone in their house.  After the hunting’s trip’s accident eight years ago, you’ve never trusted his father again. Many times you went to Marie’s house and each time her husband was home you could feel the tension lingering in the air. When he was here, you and Alastor would go outside, play with Husker, play tag or hide and seek. 

Alastor never really talked about his father, but you could sense that he hated him. But you didn’t know why and one day, you tried to push on the subject, you wanted to help him in any way possible. 

This was the first time Alastor had raised his voice at you. 

“ Are you okay?” you lifted your head toward your friend. “ He won’t go to war, from what the paper says, it seems like it’s going to end soon!” she smiled at you as she took your hand in hers. You sighed, praying that you would never have to send Alastor to war. Alastor has tried to reassure you by saying that if he were to go to war, he would be an amazing soldier.

War is like a big hunt.

“ Yes, yes… I think I’m going to go home. I need to finish some homework and I don’t want to leave my mother alone.”

“ Did Delilah steal your work again?”

“ I think, but who cares, I’ll just do it again… Well, your beautifulness, might I walk you home?” you bowed as she laughed and you began to walk toward the richest quartier of New Orleans. You gossiped with Alice about what happened during this school’s week. She was so sure John was interested in pursuing a relationship with you. You rolled your eyes at her, she always liked love’s story. 

You did too, you weren’t going to lie, but when you thought about your future with a husband… You thought about–

“ Well, here we are! Are you sure you don’t want to stay here, I made cupcakes this morning!” she exclaimed with a big grin. You smiled at her, saying you really needed to go home. 

You waved her goodbye and walked home. You tried to make your way home quickly, if you were lucky, a letter from your father would be waiting for you at home. You had prayed each day that once the stupid war was over, he would come back alive. You opened your house’s door and went inside, hurrying toward the living room.  Did your father sended you a letter ?

“ Look who’s here~”

You turned around with a big smile, feeling your heart thumb loudly in your chest. How could he make you react like this everytime?

“ Alastor !” You hugged him before kissing him on both cheeks. Alastor had stopped flinching when you were touching him, even more surprising , he was very clingy with you. Always being in your personal space like he owned it. 

“ Seems like someone drank hot chocolate but didn't bother wiping her mouth.” he wiped your bottom lips with his gloved hand. You flushed as he stared at your mouth, keeping his finger on your lips. You could see your own reflection in his glasses. Unlike before, you couldn’t read Alastor as easily as when he was a child, unless you were alone together and mister decided to be “vulnerable” with you.  But you… You always felt safe and most of all, you felt seen.

Alastor always had a glint in his eyes when he was looking at you. You’ve never seen him look at something or someone else like this… And you liked it. Was it selfish to crave his attention… maybe not. You both were friends, special friends, childhood friends… But, Oh Lord, sometimes you craved more, but you didn’t know what. If Alastor was looking at you like this as a friend, how would he look at his future wife? 

“ Oh my dear, you look starving.”

You gasped as you took a step back while Alastor was smirking at you, his arms folded behind his back. You stuck your tongue to him, like you used to, you were maybe a young lady now, but with Alastor you were… yourself.

“ Young lady ! Didn’t I tell you to stop sticking your tongue ! I’m sorry, Alastor.” said your Mother while Marie, who was just behind her, was laughing behind her hand. “ Good Lord, when you both are together you are back to being children, God preserve me.” she sighed as she went into the kitchen.

“ Yes, listen to your Mother. Keep your tongue inside your pretty mouth.” teased Alastor as he sat on the sofa with his usual mocking smile. “ Now my dear, do you have news to share with me?”

You sat on the other side of the sofa and began to gossip as you usually did. There weren’t any microphones or notes like when you were children, but it was the same as your broadcast like you used to do in his bedroom. Just you and Alastor, gossiping about your daily life.

“ And then Alice said that John was interested in me but I think he just–”

“ Should I be alarmed ? It’s not the first time I heard this name ?” teased Alastor as he took off his glasses to clean them with a tissue from his chest pocket.

“ Which one? Alice? She wants to meet you…” you mumbled and tensed when you saw Alastor’s smile.

“ Well, why didn't you say so! I would be delighted to meet the darling that blesses my sweet little friend with her presence when I’m not here!” he exclaimed as he stood up. You jumped off the sofa as you forced him to sit back down. 

“ No Alastor !”

“ Oh come on my dear, do you want to keep me all to yourself ? How bold.” he smiled as he watched you struggle to keep him sitting. You groaned and decided to just sit on his lap to keep him from standing up. So there you were on your knees on each side of his thighs. You heard him inhale deeply, his hand gripping the sofa. Don’t blushed, don’t blushed, don’t blushed…

“ How bold, indeed, dear…” he stared at you, without his glasses. There it was. That glint. The one who made you… Feeling strange. You didn’t know if you were scared or…or what? There was something lingering in the air... He opened his mouth but you cut him off.

“ What do you want for your birthday ?”

His body tensed for a second, staring straight at you before he relaxed himself and laughed, tilting his head backward. He shook his head as he rolled his eyes.

“ Well, just like always. Celebrating with you and Mother. What could I ask for more?” he smiled at you but as you tried to stand up from his thighs, he grabbed your waist and pulled you near his face. “ Should we invite John?”

“ Who–? Wait, John? Why?” you frowned as you looked at his smile which seemed tense. He was grabbing your waist tighter now. His grip should hurt you but.. it was oddly comfortable. Why did he suddenly change–?

“ Wait… Are you jealous?” you smiled as you saw his smile twitched. “ Yes, yes, you are. Haha !” you laughed hoping you sounded mocking, but even to your ears, you almost sounded pleased, relieved. You squeaked as he pinned you to the sofa and began to tickle you. You squirmed as your laughter was getting louder and louder, gasping for air.

“ Do you remember the rules, dear?” he asked with a cunning smile, knowing perfectly that you couldn’t answer right now. “ Rule number one:  Never drop your guard.” he stopped tickling you “ Go on dear. Rule number two?” he tilted his head toward you, staring at your red and teary face.

“ You are the strongest here.” you gasped as you tried to wipe your tears that threatened to stream down your face but Alastor holded both of your wrist in one hand.

“ Rule number three.” 

“ I give up…” you breathed as you closed your eyes. You felt his head next to yours, his lips almost touching your ears. 

“ Give up yourself to me.”

Your eyes opened suddenly, feeling your body being hot. You looked at Alastor who was above you but he seemed confused. He tilted his head as he watched your expression.

“ Are you okay, you look almost as red as Eamon ?” he laughed at you as he stood up, putting his glasses back on.

“ What did you just say?” you asked, your voice a mere whisper.

“... You look almost as red as Eamon?” you shook your head as you sat up and stared at him. He seemed really confused, did you imagine this? Is it what you wanted to hear? You groaned as you hid your face in your head, it was because of Alice’s stories, your mind was playing tricks on you now! “ By the way dear, it seems like you have a letter.” he said as he held a letter to you. It was from your father ! 

You took the letter from his hand with a happy grin, the letter was already open, surely your mother, and read what your father wanted you to know. He was okay, he missed you but mostly there were rumors about how the war will be soon over. you sighed in relief. Your father would come home. You just knew it. You looked at Alastor who was observing your face.

“ You still have no news from your father?”

“ No, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had been killed for insubordination.” he said with detachment as he looked at his nails. You nodded before turning your head toward the entrance where you heard a knock. You stood up and went to open the door and froze.

“ Alice ?”

“ I’ll be quick, you forgot your bag at the coffee shop.” she smiled as she held your bag toward you. 

“ How… But… You went back to the coffee shop?”

“No, no, a gentleman came to my door and asked if the bag was mine.”

“ Alice… A man came to your door with my bag and you are not worried ? How did he know where you lived ? Does that mean he followed us?” you forced her to enter your house, looking outside “ What does he look like?” You squealed as you were jerked inside the house by your dress. You turned to see Alastor who was staring at you, with a pissed expression, his smile still present.

“ Are you dumb? If there is a man who is following you, why would you show your face, confirming that you are living here.” he asked you coldly. You closed the door quickly. 

“ The man isn’t here for me, if he is here. He didn’t follow me, he followed her.” you pointed to Alice. “ You can understand that, I mean, look at her.” 

You watched as Alastor looked at Alice. You couldn’t see his face but you saw Alice’s who seemed to try to make herself even smaller than she was. He shook her hand with his usual charming smile you guessed.

“ Quite a pleasure to be meeting you, I’ve heard a lot of you. You seemed like a clever woman, I would have never guessed that you would walk down the street with a soon to be stalker at your feet, bringing this man to my dear friend’s door!” 

“ N-nice to be meeting you, sir. I’m.. I’m sorry..?” Alice stared at you, begging you with her eyes to do something. You sighed, you have told her Alastor was intense.

“ No, no, No need to be sorry. It is not your fault, but the gentleman’s one. You both shouldn’t stay outside alone.”

“ Alastor, maybe we are overthinking. Maybe he was a nice gentleman–”

“ Oh my friend, hush.” he turned to Alice “ What did he look like?”

You watched as Alice described the man’s appearance. You were dumbfounded. Did Alastor just shush you? You crossed your arms on your chest as you pouted, watching both of your friends talking. They looked good together… You bit your lips. No. Alice wouldn’t be able to stay an entire day with Alastor. You stomped your foot on the floor and you clapped your hand together.

“ Well, dear friends of mine, go into the living room, I'll go with some drinks.”

“ No, no, I won’t bother you any longer. I’m going home.” 

“ I’ll accompany you.Stay here.”

You stared in shock as Alastor went into the kitchen where your mothers were. Did he just say what you thought he said? Alice came closer to you and winked at you.

“ He seems like a good man, keep it up.”

Alastor came back with his jacket on, he opened the door for Alice and left without kissing you goodbye. You stared at the closed door. Did Alastor fall for Alice, like every boy she met? You ran to your room, and jumped on your bed, burying your face in your pillow. Did he really leave, leaving his mother? you threw your pillow on the wall.

“ To hell with him ! I don’t need him.” you said as you wiped the tears that you haven’t even felt falling down your cheeks. You went to the bathroom, ignoring your mother and Marie’s question about your teary eyes. You washed up, put on a nightgown and went into your bed. You stared at the wall before closing your eyes. You couldn’t fall asleep, you were imaginiting Alice and Alastor walking down the road, hands in hands. You felt tears whelming up in your eyes. You didn’t care! You didn’t! 

You didn’t know how long you kept thinking about it but you were still awake when you felt a hand stroking your cheeks. You sighed , nuzzling your cheek against the hand. You guessed your mother was coming to comfort you even though she didn’t know why you were upset.

“ Dear friend, why are you crying?”

You sat up immediately and stared at the person in front of you.

“ Alastor…Why are you here?” you asked as you held the cover against you. You didn’t want him to see you like this. Crying over him. You were too proud. And you weren’t crying for him! 

“ Well, I came to give you your kiss, dummy.” he approached his face toward you, staring at your eyes. “ But why are you crying? Is it because of the man?” his eyes went cold, his smile widened but there was no warmth like usual. He seemed.. menacing. “ Did he come here? Did he touch you? Where?”

 You just stared at him as tears were falling down your cheeks. It seemed like seeing you cry made him more and more upset.

“ This bastard was here? I fucking walked your little friend home so I could see if someone was lingering around here and that bastard had the nerve to come and–”

You didn’t know what came over you, you covered his face with your blanket and you kissed the place where the blanket covered his lips. He froze. You pressed your lips against the tissue and then slowly, stepped back.  You stared at him, his face still covered…

“ No.. I was just… afraid that you would leave me for Alice.” you whispered looking at his frame. Seeing that he didn’t remove the blanket, you understood that… he knew that both of you would not be talking about what is happening right now. “ She is a beautiful lady, and she is interesting, sweet… a perfect lady you would say.”

“ Don’t put words in my mouth dear.” You chuckled as he moved his hand toward your cheek, wiping your tears away. “ So, you thought she was going to take me away from you? How absurd. Nothing could tear me away from you, not even yourself.”

You stopped breathing at this confession, your heart beating even stronger. You didn’t know what to do with all of your feelings. You were just so relieved that Alastor saw your friendship like you did.

“ Can I take off your blanket now?”

You laughed and uncovered his face, his warm smile was back, his glint in his eyes even more present. You looked away, fidgeting with your nightgown. You needed to erase the tension quickly.

“ You look like an absolute mess my dear friend! I’ll let you rest and please, do get your beauty sleep unless you want to crack every mirror you shall see.” he laughed as you tried to hit him with a pillow. He kissed you on the forehead, giggling before leaving your bedroom. “ See you soon, doll~!”

You fell on your bed with a big smile and hid your face into your pillow.

You didn’t know what happened but it made your feel better.

Tag List: lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie

[lonely-cowboy]

chasing rainbows

pairing: connor (rk800) x f!reader

summary: you recently learned that connor has only ever seen the world in one color. gutted at the thought of such a colorless world, you decide to help him see the beauty of the world. only he doesn't care about the world. he only cares about you.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: nothing major, but lowkey a mess bc this is my first longer-ish fic, reader is really embracing her y/n moment, connor is so ooc it's kinda insane but i love him so whatever, they're both really confused about their feelings until they're suddenly not

author's note: i'm replaying dbh as one does bc i was sad and missed connor AND I'M LITERALLY FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE THIS PLAYTHROUGH?? my first playthrough was so nice and sweet and silly so now i'm trying to get other endings BUT I'M NOT STRONG ENOUGH FOR ALL THE EMOTIONAL DAMAGE?? anyway, my solution (as always) was to write happy connor and some grumpy hank yay! yes i did spend the first 1k words talking about literal colors, ignore that

masterlist ⟡ requests

Work was never the place to do work. That was something you learned from Hank after working under him for years.

Sitting at your desk that was situated across from Hank and Connor, you decided to ignore your terminal and the case report it displayed. You’d get to it eventually. Eventually. Besides, you were confident that you would be able to finish it relatively quickly.

Instead, you were tiredly flipping through a book of color swatches. Your gaze flitted across endless pages, darting from color to color as you searched for something eye-catching. In your recent efforts to make your apartment feel more homely, you decided it was time to add an accent wall, you just needed the right color. Obviously, the precinct was the best place to be color searching.

By the time you reached the end of the swatch booklet, you had only found two colors that interested you. At least then it would be easier to make a decision. You eyed the olive and plum swatches like you would a homicide suspect, trying your best to picture them in your apartment. You pursed your lips in thought, staring at the colors for so long that you could’ve sworn you were going cross-eyed.

“Detective?” Connor called, your eyes snapping to meet his. “Are you alright?”

“Actually, no, I’m not,” you answered with an exaggerated sigh, trying to sound as hopeless as possible. “I’m having quite the dilemma.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked.

The sincerity in his voice made your heart melt. He always showed such care for you. Sometimes you wondered if it was just another part of his social programming, but somehow, you knew it wasn’t. Connor genuinely did care about you, even when it was just your inability to pick a paint color. You almost felt bad for teasing him. Almost.

“I just can’t for the life of me decide on a paint color,” you said, glancing up at him with that shit-eating grin he was unfortunate to know so well.

Connor’s pleasant smile collapsed into a disappointed frown once he realized he had succumbed to your teasing.

“Saw that coming from a mile away,” Hank grumbled.

“You can help too, Lieutenant!” you said in an excessively cheerful tone, just to annoy Hank. “It’s not like you’re doing anything important.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you, kid” Hank sighed, turning his chair to face you fully. Work was never the place to do work.

With both Connor and Hank focused on you, you slid the two color swatches across your desk. Hank leaned forward with mild interest, nodding his head to himself as he considered both choices. Connor mimicked Hank, leaning forward and furrowing his brows at the sight of the swatches.

After a long moment of deliberation, Hank finally said, “Green.”

You nodded in approval as Connor looked at Hank with what could only be described as pure confusion. He then turned back to the colors before looking at you with an unsettled expression.

“I don’t understand,” Connor murmured. “These colors are the same.”

You and Hank stared at Connor in bewilderment. Maybe you could understand it if the colors were different shades of the same color and androids just had a poor sense of color differentiation. But these swatches weren’t even remotely close in color. There was nothing similar about them at all.

You and Hank exchanged a look of confusion. Maybe this was Connor’s attempt at a joke. No, he had made jokes before, and they were genuinely funny. Especially the ones that poked fun at Hank.

“Connor,” you started. “What do you mean?”

“They’re the same,” Connor repeated with a shrug, looking between you and Hank like he didn’t understand what he was missing. And he obviously didn’t understand.

“One is olive, one is plum,” you said.

“Green and purple,” Hank offered rather unhelpfully.

Connor only shrugged again, still unable to differentiate the two.

“Does anything look different than normal?” you questioned.

“No,” Connor replied simply.

Was it possible for androids to be colorblind? The idea baffled you. The only way Connor could be colorblind was if he was programmed to be that way. Why would he be programmed to not see color?

“Can you… I don’t know… describe what things look like to you?” you asked unsurely. Was that too abstract of a thought for an android? It was already too abstract for you. “Does everything look the same color?”

Connor considered your question, eyes narrowed as he glanced around the precinct. Hank looked at you like you were crazy for wanting to get to the root of this. Maybe you were.

“I… I suppose it all appears relatively similar,” Connor said with equal uncertainty.

You frowned at that. The world must have seemed so… well, sad to Connor. You hated the thought of his world being limited to a single color. He deserved to see the world for what it really was. He deserved so much… If you could at least give him this one thing, you would be satisfied.

“Do you want to change that?” you proposed.

“I admit, I would be curious,” Connor replied.

Immediately, you jumped up from your desk chair and started putting your coat on. Connor took that as a sign to do the same, rising from his chair to stand beside you.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Hank interjected. “Where do you two think you’re going?”

“To help Connor, obviously,” you replied with a bratty eye roll.

“That has nothing to do with work, kid, sit down,” Hank retorted, preferring that the two of you stayed with him so that he didn’t have to suffer alone.

“This has everything to do with work,” you countered like the typical asshole Hank knew you as. “Don’t you realize all the ways this probably inhibits Connor’s work? I mean, picture a typical crime scene. There are probably so many details he’s missing because he can’t fucking see color!”

“Actually,” Connor remarked. “I speculate that my limited color sensory was included in an effort to keep me focused on my investigations and avoid any distractions–”

“Connor,” you intervened, turning to give him a stern look.

“Yes, Detective?”

“Shut up.”

Immediately, Connor sealed his lips shut and pressed them into a thin line. You adored it when he listened to you.

You turned your attention back to Hank, flashing that brilliant smile that told him you weren’t going to listen to a single fucking thing he said. He sighed grumpily at the sight of it, turning back to his desk with a shake of his head.

In the absence of any other objections, you grabbed Connor’s hand and led him out of the precinct. You wondered if he could see the vibrant blush that coated your cheeks at the intimate contact. You hoped not.

He did.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Are you sure about this?” you questioned hesitantly.

In the middle of your living room, you stood in front of Connor with his new occipital unit in hand. You held it gingerly as if the slightest touch would break it. Although it was a lot easier to purchase biocomponents than you had expected. If it were to break, you would only have to walk three or so blocks to buy a new one.

You looked at Connor worriedly while he stood patiently. You were far, far from any kind of engineer. You had absolutely zero experience when it came to replacing android biocomponents. No matter how many times Connor reassured you, you still stressed at the thought of making a mistake. He promised it was easy, but how could changing biocomponents be anywhere close to easy?

“You can do it, I promise,” Connor murmured encouragingly.

His hand came up to encircle your wrist, tugging your hand forward gently. Your cheeks heated at the contact, making you aware of just how close the two of you were. You glanced away bashfully as you were overwhelmed by butterflies. When you returned your attention to Connor, you watched in awe as the skin around his right eye peeled away, revealing the natural white plastic. Connor’s eyes flicked across your face nervously, worried that you might be disturbed. But to you, it was like seeing a new and vulnerable side to Connor, one that you very much enjoyed.

As you reached for his current occipital unit, you froze with your brows furrowed. Your apartment was far from an interesting sight. There wasn’t much to look at, your apartment still lacking a homely feeling. Damnit, you really needed that accent wall.

“Come on,” you said without explanation.

You moved to leave your apartment after gently placing the two new occipital units into your bag. Slugging it over your shoulder, you waited at the door for Connor to follow. Connor stared after you, the white plastic disappearing.

“Come on,” you repeated, gesturing for him to follow.

Connor followed without a second thought. God, it really was so endearing when he listened.

You led Connor out of your apartment building and across the street to the nearby park. You wandered aimlessly for what felt like hours, trying to find the most scenic view for Connor to enjoy as his first sight.

At last, you settled on a bench situated in front of a little pond. Tall, stooping trees crowded the pond with just enough space between their branches to see the bright sky above. You were glad to be enjoying this moment in the fall when the leaves were the perfect shades of orange.

You stood with your hands on your hips, eyeing the view with a skeptical glint. Connor would be able to see a good range of colors from here. This place would do just fine.

Pulling Connor along, you sat him down on the bench by lightly pressing on his shoulders. Once he was seated with his hands neatly placed along his thighs, you reached for the first occipital unit from your bag.

“Okay,” you said with a determined huff. “Much better view, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see it very well,” Connor replied cheekily.

You couldn’t help but smile at that, rolling your eyes at Connor’s teasing. This only meant he had been spending a concerning amount of time around you and Hank. When you looked back at him, you exhaled slowly, “Ready?”

Connor nodded once, revealing the white plastic of his right eye once again. Before pulling it out, you reached forward and pressed a soft hand overtop Connor’s eyes, silently reminding him to keep his eyes closed until you said otherwise. When you pulled your hand away, you were pleased to find that his eyes remained closed.

Your fingertips then pressed against the plastic of Connor’s occipital unit. It popped out easily, allowing you to pull it out slowly and with ease, just as Connor had promised. It was jarring to see him without an eye. Or rather without a whole chunk of his face. You worried you might still mess up, leaving him without half of his face.

But when you pressed the new occipital unit forward, you found that it was just as easy as pulling the old one out. It took a moment to adjust, but the new part quickly shifted to match Connor’s appearance, his freckled skin melting over it and the doe-like shape of his eyes returning. That made you sigh with relief. You just hoped they were still the same beautiful brown you found yourself constantly lost in.

You then did the same with his other eye, quietly applauding yourself for not making a single mistake.

With his occipital units in place, you rounded the bench to stand behind Connor whose eyes remained closed obediently. Standing behind him, you placed your hands over his eyes once again, a giddy smile adorning your lips.

“You ready?” you asked, unable to contain your excitement.

“I think so,” Connor said hesitantly.

“Yeah, you’re ready,” you decided.

Slowly, you pulled your hands away, studying Connor with a sweet smile. You expected him to enjoy the view in silence, looking at every single thing he possibly could. But you were surprised to find that he barely even regarded the view. Instead, he immediately turned to look at you from over his shoulder.

With a tentative hand, he reached out for your hand that rested on the bench’s back. He pulled you gently around the bench so that you stood in front of him. His hand still held your limp hand as he stood to face you. He looked down at you with a small but warm smile, eyes exploring every inch of your face.

The unexpected attention had your heart racing, a nervous heat spreading throughout your body. You clenched your jaw tightly, a jumble of confusing and unwanted emotions consuming your entirety. Not wanting to say anything stupid to ruin… whatever this moment was, you clamped your mouth shut. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander, exploring Connor’s features the same way he did yours.

Connor’s warm touch left your hand, making you frown ever so slightly. But you were immediately comforted as he placed both hands on your cheeks. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles along your cheekbones like they had a mind of their own, relaxing your clenched jaw. His eyes locked with yours, never once blinking in fear that he would miss something if he did.

You practically forgot how to speak. You forgot how to do everything. It was a hassle to recall how you were even supposed to breathe. The only thing you could do was stare at Connor with a dreamy glimmer in your eyes.

“Your eyes are really pretty,” Connor mumbled.

You swallowed timidly before speaking, “Thank you.”

“You’re…” Connor began before his LED circled red.

Your gaze flickered to his LED, watching intently as it continued to flash red. That was a poor move on your part. Having broken the intense eye contact, Connor glanced away from you, looking straight ahead and dropping his hands from your cheeks like he suddenly awoke from a trance. Focused on the horizon, Connor’s LED spiraled yellow several times before returning to its typical blue.

His sudden change in attitude only added to your confusion of emotions. You took a pained step back, eyes falling to the ground.

“I didn’t expect the leaves to be this color,” Connor commented casually.

You cleared your throat and turned your back to Connor to focus on the leaves. You didn’t want him to see your embarrassed flush, though you were sure he already did.

“They’re not always this color,” you muttered. “Only in the fall. In the warmer months, they’re green.”

You caught a glimpse of Connor tilting his head, his nose scrunched with intrigue. He tried to visualize what that would look like, but having only seen one color since his creation, he didn’t seem to understand.

“Green like… like the grass,” you clarified, pointing to an open patch of grass.

“I’d like to see that. Perhaps you can bring me back here in the spring,” Connor hummed. When you didn’t say anything, he continued. “Are there other colors to see?”

“So many more,” you answered, flashing Connor a small (and slightly awkward) smile.

Connor trailed along beside you as you strolled through the park. Still too embarrassed to look at him, you also took the opportunity to admire the beauty of the park’s striking colors. You were ignorant to the way Connor watched you contently out of the corner of his eye. Of all the wonderfully colorful sights, you were by far his favorite. You were the only thing he could look at.

“Which one is your favorite?” Connor asked as you slowed your walk, having walked the entirety of the park. “Color, I mean.”

You stopped to consider his question, looking around at the abundance of colors. They were all so beautiful in their own ways that it was difficult to choose. But then your eyes landed on Connor, and it seemed so clear.

“Blue,” you replied definitively.

You felt foolish for your choice, but you couldn’t help that there was some truth to it. Blue had always been a pleasant color, but after knowing Connor, it took on a different meaning. When Connor’s LED was blue, it indicated he was happy. Or at least satisfied. You liked to see him when he was happy. It eased your mind knowing he was content. Because of him, it was now a color you associated with joy.

Though you didn’t say anything, you looked away flustered, wondering if Connor could somehow read your mind. You wouldn’t be at all surprised if he could.

“Do you have a favorite?” you inquired quickly.

Connor pursed his lips, mimicking you as he looked around the park. His head then snapped down to look at you, eyes immediately finding yours. He cocked his head curiously the way he always did. The way that made you so weak you could barely stand.

“What color are your eyes?” Connor wondered.

Your eyes widened, eyebrows arched as if you had misheard him. But you knew you hadn’t.

The way he spoke so nonchalantly drove you insane. How could he be so casual about something like this? Did he know what he was doing to you? Was he doing it on purpose? What did any of this mean? Was there any chance at all that he could care for you the same way you did him?

“Uh…,” you mumbled, stuttering out your eye color.

Connor nodded thoughtfully at your answer, his charming eyes still latched onto yours.

“Then that’s what I would say,” said Connor. “Your eyes are my favorite.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly, clueless as to how on earth you were supposed to respond to that.

The corners of Connor’s lips quirked into an affectionate smile. He arched his brows at you like he expected something more than just oh.

Your mind was racing for anything to say. Were you just supposed to ignore Connor’s loving words that felt far too much like a subtle confession? Were you supposed to confront it head-on? Neither of those options sounded good.

“Thanks,” you whispered. “I like them too.”

As you cursed yourself endlessly for saying the stupidest fucking thing to come to mind, Connor’s grin widened. A quiet laugh escaped his lips, one that you didn’t hear through the blaring alarms screaming “why are you such an idiot?” in your head.

“That was stupid,” you groaned, deciding it was better to admit it than ignore it. “But… thank you. You… you have pretty eyes too.”

“Thank you, Detective,” Connor said cheerfully.

You moved to continue walking with Connor close at your side. Maybe you were crazy (there was always a good chance of that), but you could’ve sworn he was standing considerably closer than before. Your arm swung at your side, his arm brushing against yours in the slightest. It didn’t matter how insignificant that touch was, it meant something to you. Maybe it meant something to Connor too.

You had been walking in complete silence until Connor spoke, his words making you trip and fumble and scream and cry and scream and die a little.

“You’re pretty to look at. All of you, not just your eyes,” he said, shooting you an adorably attractive wink for emphasis.

You stopped dead in your tracks, Connor trailing ahead until he noticed you were no longer beside him. You stared at him with a far too serious expression, one that made him doubt his words. How could he be so casual about something so serious? Did he actually feel this way, or was it all a heartless prank?

“Your words are really fucking with me, Connor, you know that?” you said.

“I know,” Connor nodded with a cocky edge. God, he really was spending way too much time with you and Hank to be this snarky.. “Your heart has been racing the entire time we’ve been together.”

“So you’re purposefully torturing me?”

“I wouldn’t consider this torture. But, yes. I suppose I’ve been… holding this over you.”

“Well, stop that!”

Connor flashed you a cheeky grin as he approached you again. His hands moved to cup your reddened cheeks, warming them with his soft touch.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t do this to you,” Connor said fondly. “Not when you’ve shown me how beautiful the world is… How beautiful you are.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, trying to hide the smile that crept along your lips.

“You’ve told me before that I’m terrible at shutting up, I don’t see why I should start now.”

You and Connor wore matching smirks as you tried to best the other, subconsciously moving closer to each other.

“Oh, so you don’t want to shut up and kiss me?” you parried.

“When did those words ever leave my mouth?”

“When did you get so cocky?”

“When I realized I could have you.”

You had nothing to say after that. No witty remark or snide comment. All you could offer was a gentle smile.

Connor leaned forward, his nose brushing against yours. He was so close that you could feel his breath– so real for an android– against your lips.

“Pretty smile too,” he murmured, his lips grazing yours.

“It’d look even prettier if you actually kissed me,” you whispered.

Connor knew he couldn’t win this battle of wits. He honorably accepted his loss, knowing it was the only way to kiss you. You beamed into his kiss, proud of yourself for being so stubborn. That was quickly lost on you when you felt the softness of Connor’s lips. You indulged in his touch, leaning forward against his chest to feel as much of him as possible.

Connor pulled away sooner than you would have liked, resting his forehead against yours. A breath of a laugh escaped his lips when he saw that desperate glint in your eyes. He pulled back to look you in the eye after pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. His thumb brushed under your eye, lost in the color he loved so dearly.

“You’ll always be my favorite sight.”

[martiansodas-blog]

hi I’ve been obsessed of your work, so can I request a fanfic where reader is heavily pregnant (8-9 months) and needy and art helps her.

if that’s too uncomfortable or out of your confort zone I apologise

you’re so kind ! this sat in my drafts for so long it grew roots, i’m sorry :( i do appreciate every ask i get, i just work nearly everyday.

🎾 🤍💐✨🎀

art is a family man.

he always wanted the americana, white picket fence, nuclear family.

to make it even more cliche, he wanted two kids; a boy and a girl.

and you were about to make his dreams come true.

when art saw you interact with lily he knew he had to make you a mommy as soon as possible.

the need to give his daughter a sibling clawed his way into his chest and never left..

“he’s very active today.” you said happily

arts head is rested in your lap as you lounged on the couch. your hand in his soft blonde locks, his resting over your rounded stomach.

“wants to get out of there, i bet.”

you scoffed, “he’s not the only one.”

he loved quiet moments like this, times when it was just the two of you—or three now.

your son kicked against his hand.

“can’t wait to meet him.” you murmured

his fingers traced hearts all over your belly. ever the loverboy.

“me neither. just a couple more weeks.”

it was unbelievable how much his life had changed.

“you’re gonna be such a good daddy. again.”

a small huff left his nose. he leaned a little closer, leaving a soft kiss.

“you hear that, little man? ive got big expectations to live up to here.”

you chuckled “you nervous?”

he let out a low sigh, moving so he could see you clearly. a lazy smile painted his face as he nodded.

“very.”

“me too, but there’s no one else i’d rather have a baby with.”

he intertwined your fingers and kissed them.

“feeling is mutual.”

art loved you pregnant. it awakened something primal in him. knowing he did that. knowing it’s his kid you’re carrying.

you had a glow to you. not just on your face, but your whole body. beyond that- your essence.

he watched you do your evening skincare from the king sized bed. you looked beautiful—he had always thought you were beautiful, of course… but there was something about the way you looked in this moment. how your curves seemed more pronounced. how there was more of you to love. how you were barefaced and smelling good straight out of the shower.

“you coming to bed soon?”

“why, can’t sleep without me?” you teased

“of course not.”

you padded over to him as he pulls back the covers for you.

you lay on your side, facing art. he grazed his hand over your arm, admiring you.

even this slightest touch from his calloused fingertips gave you goosebumps, made your nipples perk up. like an automatic response.

“how’s your back?”

“eh,” you rolled your eyes, “closer i get to the due date the more it hurts.”

the look on arts face told you that’s unacceptable.

“turn around, i’ll massage you.”

“not gonna say no to that.”

arts warm, big hands acted as a soothing balm.

“you have so much tension, baby. should’ve let me know, i’d have done this a lot sooner.”

his words were barely comprehensible to you, your body finally being relaxed allowed your mind to do the same. for once.

“mmm,”

art bit back a laugh, not wanting to seem like he was making fun. you were just too cute is all!

this was an easy way for him to express his love language.

after merely a few minutes you had to press your legs together. just a little pressure. that’s better.

you figured since you were under the blankets he wouldn’t be about to tell. but this is your husband we’re talking about. nothing goes unnoticed by him.

he brings his mouth right behind your ear. warm breath tickling you.

“is there tension somewhere else i need to get out?”

you let out a pitiful whimper. you can’t help it. you just leaned you head back on his chest.

“aww,” he chuckles, “it’s ok , sweetheart. your hormones are all out of wack, aren’t they? needing me to keep you stuffed all the time. you poor thing.”

“yes,” you whine, trying to press your body back into his as much as you could. it was pretty hard, considering the extra weight you’re hosting.

he smirks and moves you on your back, hovering over you. you don’t have to lift a finger. art will do it all for you. that’s precisely how he liked it.

“well what kind of husband would i be if i couldn’t keep you satisfied?”

art wastes no time. having only wore his little underwear to bed, he quickly removes those. he lifts up your oversized shirt to reveal you didn’t bother with putting any on anything underneath.

he’s not going to waste time. he knows don’t need foreplay. you haven’t in weeks. wanting to fuck just as much as when you were trying to get pregnant.

he doesn’t mind, of course.

the best part about being pregnant? no need to worry about protection.

you couldn’t get enough of arts rigid cock sliding inside you. your walls practically molded to him.

“ohh, that’s it.”

he sank into you, slowly, lovingly. resting his head in the crook of your neck. that’s it’s home. all his moans amplified there. he had to maneuver a bit to not put too much pressure on your belly. always so careful. but hes 6 foot, it’s hardly an issue.

“god, i want to get you pregnant again and again.”

he moaned as he forced cock in all the way. the whole room echoed with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass.

you whimpered as your nails took residence on his back.

“god, your so beautiful carrying my baby. so sexy. all filled up.”

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he brought his fingers to your puffy clit.

sex during pregnancy was always slow and soft. he’s terrified of hurting you.

sometimes you’ll simply cockwarm him. you’ve both grown to love it. being that close. feeling love from the inside out.

art stuck two fingers in his mouth then brought that down to your clit. keeping eye contact with you the entire time.

“hnnnh! art!” you gasped

“what, close already darlin?” he cooed

you nodded. you felt like you could cry. which wouldn’t be saying much, you cried a lot these days. to be expected. but this time it’s welcomed.

“please, art, fill me up again.” you begged

it was the again that got him.

everyone already knew you’ve been filled with his cum. strangers in the grocery store, your wholesome religious mother, the other fucking guys in the neighborhood who’s eyes always lingered too long.

art has always had a somewhat high sex drive. so when your third trimester hit and you couldn’t go more than a day without being pumped full? it was like heaven to him.

“yeah? want me to remind you how we made our baby?”

you nodded your head furiously as filthy noises escaped you.

“comon baby, i know you’re almost there. i want you to cum with me and then i want you to taste it.”

you came and came and came around art. time seemed to stop and drag on at the same time. you had to tap him so you could catch your breath. otherwise he would’ve kept fucking you until well after his dick chaffed.

he stilled, remaining inside of you.

“atta girl.”

he gifts your feather light kisses on your forehead.

“did so well for me. always do.”

on your cheek.

“my perfect wife, how lucky am i, huh?”

on the tip of your nose.

you can hear the smile in his voice.

when you come back to earth, he’s there waiting. you opened your eyes you saw those roses cheeks you fell for so long ago.

“hey”

he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“hey”

“thank you.” you whisper

“dont need to thank me, love. it’s an honor to experience your body, and to see you.”

the tenderness you got to experience with art is something you’d never grow tired of. truthfully you thought men only said stuff like this in movies. his actions only doubled when you showed him that pregnancy test.

“i can’t wait to give you a baby.”

[tokutaiseichan]

I’ve pointed this out before but so far, Hotarubi is the only chapter where a Like Dove never made any appearances. Thanks to Taiga, we know that Like Dove is probably some kind of a spying device and everything points to the possibility that its duty is to monitor missions involving ghouls.

Yet it never made an appearance during the course of Hotarubi’s mission. Why is that? At first, I thought it’s perhaps because Taiga had killed and eaten the one that appeared during the Sinostra chapter. In the first place, we never found out if there are more than one Like Dove. It’s an anomaly—and a rare one at that. It might be the only one or maybe not.

But then I started thinking: what if the reason a Like Dove didn’t appear to monitor the ghouls’ mission this time is because they already have an “Insider” involved in the mission?

Zenji is automatically out. My man’s dead and Darkwick doesn't even know his ghost is still wandering around. Subaru? Makes sense since he has already lied to everyone before. What’s another secret? But after all that happened at the Ultio prison and considering his personality, I feel like what he confessed that time was everything he was involved with. Subaru’s awful at lying and hiding things, if he’s the spy he’d be a bit more obvious and feel even more guilty. So hmm… I wonder who we’re left with……

Remember how during that one time MC was trying to escape again, Haku was the one who just conveniently showed up and successfully convinced her to not defy Darkwick anymore?

Sure, we can see it as simply a considerate gesture of a senior looking after his anxious junior. Especially when it's so blatantly implied later that he had experienced the consequences of going against the rules. Still, the timing is just… too perfect…

MC trying to escape → Bumped into Rui who's about to head to a mission → Haku suddenly appeared (Rui: “But Moby said no one usually rides around this time of the day~”) → Haku scolded both MC & Rui一brought up the clause of disciplinary actions if one were to do anything funny during missions and reminded Rui of his standing (Haku: “You know it's even worse if you're the one she's with, right?”) → Haku got MC away from Rui → Haku reassured MC and convinced her to stay at Darkwick to break her curse first instead of running away (like what he did before?)

It's almost as if he was purposely sent there for damage control.

“I'll keep this incident a secret from the Academy,” when the reason MC can't even escape in the first place is because Darkwick already knows what she's trying to do? Yeah, right. If you have tried to run away before, you'd know Darkwick has eyes everywhere.

I also found his responses from chapter 2 of his Personal Story rather interesting.

If MC thanked him → “…You shouldn't put too much stock in what I said, you know.” (He acts like the ever dependable and reassuring senior to MC but when she expressed genuine gratitude, he immediately backed off. Does he feel guilty because of how MC seems to always trust his words now? Because he’s keeping something from her?)

If MC shook her head → “Looking at you trying so hard made me realize how underhanded I am.” (Now he just sounds so bitter here…)

There's also the bait and switch with Hotarubi.

During Sinostra, MC found out the existence of a spy among the ghouls. And immediately at Hotarubi early chapters, Moby told her that the Hotarubi ghouls are hiding something. This planted seeds of doubt in MC一she thought one of them might be related to the spy. But at the end of the book, it was… in a way, disproven.

The secret they kept was Zenji's existence一for Haku & Zenji一and Subaru's mission regarding Lyca and his true stigma. This, ironically, leads up to MC being much more determined to trust the ghouls and be more wary about the Academy and Institute一even more than she originally did.

The reason I brought this up? Because the narrative has now painted Hotarubi as the “innocent” house. They made us (both MC & the readers) think how the ghouls over there are just trying their damn best to protect their friends… so that you'd suspect it the least for housing any spy (whom, in Taiga's words, is supposedly trying to screw other ghouls over). They made it seem like Hotarubi must've shown all their cards by now and gave us a sense of… relief? In a way.

(Obviously, there's still the mystery of Haku's dorm transfer. But that's for another day…)

Last but not the least, I'll bring you Haku's last words he told MC before jumping into the fire:

EN: Sorry, I guess I couldn't be the guy you wanted me to be. Ha ha… Don't look like that. Never lost faith in me, did you?

JP: ……すまんね。おまえさんの期待に、応えられんかったわ。はは……そんな顔しなさんな。最後におれを信じてくれて、ありがとね (Direct, almost word-to-word tl: ……Sorry. Looks like I couldn't meet your expectations. Haha…… Don't make that face. Thanks, for trusting me even at the bitter end.)

“Thanks for trusting me to the end,” are you Implying MC has reasons to lose her faith in you, Mister Haku Kusanagi? 🤔🤨

This is probably just me reaching but, has anyone noticed how “trust” seems to be a recurring theme with MC and Haku in particular? “Trust me. You'll be fine here,” and “If you need any help, I'm always happy to lend you a hand,” but also, “Don’t take what I said too seriously.” Which is it???

Anway, since Obscuary is just around the corner, I just wanna say that: 

1) If a Love Dove doesn't appear then it means I'm just looking too much into things and that the reason it doesn't appear is simply because Taiga has killed the one during Sinostra. And everything I wrote up to this point are hogwash.

2) If a Love Dove does appear again, I'll add +1 sus point to Haku.

“Why are you so suspicious of Haku anyway?” Years of watching anime and reading manga/visual novels/etc has taught me that you should always be wary of the sawayaka oniisan type. =w=)b

If you read until this point then thank you for giving my 2 a.m. rambles a chance! But please keep in mind that they don't call me Detective Reaching #2 for nothing. 🤧 For now, I'm going to log off so 🫡 Ciao!

[kechiwrites]

what’s in a name?

simon “ghost” riley x medic!reader

synopsis: ‘It’s not his fault.’ He reasons. ‘It’s not his fault you’re a brat.’ 

wc: 1.1k

cw:  fem!reader, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, teasing, dirty talk, light brat taming, spanking, pet names (princess, darling), no use of y/n ever.

an: yes, i know i should be posting kinktober IN NOVEMBER, but my god does this man make me wanna [redacted] his [data expunged]. enjoy!

He’s your most stubborn patient, in fact, his entire squad is a pain in your ass, but Ghost takes the cake. Always grunting and scoffing as you administer care, as if this is all a frivolity and not you saving him from gangrene or tetanus or whatever other peril has found its way into his blood that week. And that’s if he even deigns to be seen to at all.

It’s another one of those days, marshalled out of your bed at the crack of dawn because there are wounds to dress and blood to take. It makes you irritable, just short of bitchy really, and you’ll be damned if you have to work this early in the morning for a couple of jarheads who can barely string together decent conversation.

Ghost is the first person you see. Naturally. And it’s much of the same. Groans and impatient huffs while you snip gauze and sanitize abrasions. It’s rapidly turning you from irate to downright incensed.

“What’s your name anyway?” You murmur, while you fold up his shirt sleeve, baring a muscled, veiny forearm, covered in ink and dried blood, courtesy of a deep gash that’d only ceased bleeding thanks to a field tourniquet applied in the nick of time.

“No.” He mutters. As if that’s an answer. You scoff, turning in your swivel chair to grab more cotton wool from your desk. When you return he has you pinned with what little of his face you can see, dark, long lashed eyes peering out from the mask and face paint. As though he can see through you.

"You can tell me your actual name, or you can bleed out." It’s unnecessary, really. Probably even dangerous to ask, but it’s always bothered you that his medical record has those black marks where a Christian name should be. And you’re nosy. Nosy enough to pry it out of the soldier himself.

You stare at each other, neither daring to back down. Your threat is horse shit and you both know it, you're obligated to give the best care possible. He could wait you out. If he wanted to.

Apparently, he doesn’t want to.

"Simon."

You give him a smile in return, cartoonishly big and saccharine sweet. You begin cleaning the wound, humming happily with yourself. Satisfied.

For the next two months, it's relentless. Everytime he sees you, it's;

"And do you know your blood type, Simon?"

"It's lovely to see you again Simon."

"There are easier ways to stop bleeding, Simon."

It irks him, makes his skin feel like it's not sitting right. Makes him feel like his teeth are stopping his tongue from laying in his mouth comfortably. Makes his blood hum in his veins.

Eventually it's too much.

"Would you come off it?" He asks, voice rougher than he means it to be, but maybe that's what you need to end this little joke of yours.

You keep reading the charts on the clipboard in your hand, as if he hasn't spoken at all.

"Come off what, Simon?" You purse your lips at whatever you're reading, but he suspects you’re trying not to laugh.

"Saying my name like that." He flexes open the fingers of one hand, keeping the other balled in a fist on his thigh.

"Like what?" You finally look at him, head tilted to the side, the picture of innocence.

What a lark.

"Like you want something from me." He stands, looming above you, jostling himself into your personal space.

"It's your name." Now you are smiling, a confident, amused thing that transforms the look of your face, makes him forget the bags under your eyes and the familiar bone-tiredness of his body when it’s been pushed too far.

And these days, it’s always too far.

“We have code names for a reason, darling.”

“Darling? I was beginning to think my name was ‘Ugh’.” You drop the timbre of your voice to mimic him, though he doesn’t look very flattered by the imitation. At least, that’s what you get from the very little of his face you can see.

“It’s Ghost from now on.” He ignores you. It’s necessary, really. To block out the things you say. The things you do. The songs you hum cheerfully when you do inventory, the way your medical uniform stretches over the curve of your ass when you need something from the bottom cabinet.

“Sure, Simon. Whatever you say.”

‘It’s not his fault.’ He reasons. ‘It’s not his fault you’re a brat.’

It’s not his fault when he pushes you over to the examination bed. It’s not his fault when he fists his hands in the waistband of your scrub bottoms and yanks them down, it’s not his fault you’re wearing a thong, for christ’s sake. It’s not his fault that you giggle and sigh and beg so goddamn pretty.

It’s certainly not his fault that your cunt feels like a fucking dream.

He takes you like you deserve for all the teasing, brings the weight of his hand down on your ass when you moan something that sounds suspiciously like “About time.” Ghost gropes at your tits while he has you bent in half, in for a penny, as they say. His fingers pull and flick at your nipples, and you wish he’d put his mouth on you, fucking anywhere, and you don’t care what it does, bite, suck, kiss, what-fucking-ever. When you say as much in between the gasps he fucks out of you, he responds immediately, voice subdued under his mask.

“Maybe next time.”

Your eyes nearly roll out of your head at the idea of next time.

When you come it feels like your pussy is buzzing, stretched over the length of his dick and he tunnels into you, fucking into you deep before he grinds the head of cock into you, scrambling any thought you could’ve had.

It’s a battle for him to not come inside you, to resist covering the sweet, soft walls of your cunt in his seed, but he prides himself on what little control he has left, and pulls out, doing you a favour by letting his come shoot onto the floor rather than stain the baby blue fabric of your scrubs.

"Now, I think we can both agree to you saving that name for when you want me to spread you open, yes?" His voice is gruffer somehow, covering your overheated skin in the rasp and cadence of it.

"Fuck off." You moan miserably in response, your forehead sticking to the paper covering the examination bed below you.

"I want an affirmative, princess."

"Yes." You hiss from between your teeth, your head still spinning from your orgasm. “Yes, Ghost, I agree.”

“That’s better. Don’t worry about getting up.” He pats your exposed lower back, and when his hand withdraws you can hear him zip his fatigues back up. “I’ll see myself out.”

endotes: hehe...i love him. my mask kink is in full effect y’all. support content creators + city girls, reblog. find part 2 here. 

[astrophileous]

Hey hey, it's me~

If I could, I would like to request a Derek x Reader or Spencer x Reader, how you feel it better. Maybe where the Reader is someone working with kids (in a nursery, childcare center, if possible ? If not, no problem at all). I wonder how they would react with someone like this 😇

Bonus point if the Reader is short 🙈

I'm weak for your fluff stories, and any of you works if I'm being honest so a fluffy one would be nice.

Again, no pressure if you don't feel writing this. Congratulations for your almost 1k, you'll get them I'm sure of it ❤️

Have a wonderful day sweetie 🌸

val, my love, tysm for the request and the kind words 🥺💞 I'm so happy you entrusted me with this request! Idk if this is what you were looking for, but I hope you're happy with it ❤️ (p.s. you can just send more requests if you weren't satisfied with this one lol)

Warning(s): derek morgan x fem!reader, stalker, break-in, typical cm stuff, swearing (?)

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Seeing all the flashing red-and-blue lights outside the building he had grown to know intimately for the past couple of months was perhaps the closest thing to a heart attack Derek Morgan would ever experience in his life.

Derek ignored the shouts of his name from his fellow teammates as he ducked beneath the yellow police tape, along with the curious glances people threw his way as he stalked towards the building with purpose. Once inside, he thoroughly checked every room he passed by, stopping only when he spotted the familiar figure sitting on one of the chairs in the pantry.

"Derek? What are you—"

You didn't get a chance to finish your question before Derek was enveloping you in a bear hug.

A wave of calm instantly flooded over his entire being. Derek buried his face deeper into you, breathing in the smell of your body wash and the addictive tang of your perfume. Your own arms wrapped around his muscular frame once the shock evaporated, letting the warmth of Derek's body seep into you as you listened to the rhytmic beating of his heart.

"Are you okay?" Derek asked once he could finally find his voice again. "Did you get hurt? He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"No, Derek. I'm fine," you convinced him as you pulled away. "I called 911 right away. He broke through the back door but ran as soon as the police arrived."

Derek rubbed his palms up and down your arms, an appeasing gesture for you as well as a reassuring one for him. He needed to make sure that you were fine.

"Good. That's good. You did the right thing, sweetheart."

"All thanks to you, Derek." You smiled. "I wouldn't have known what to do if you didn't warn me beforehand. We're all safe because of you."

Derek's heart sat fifty pounds heavy inside his ribcage. Before he could pull you back towards his chest, an interrupting cough sounded from behind him. Derek turned around to see Rossi standing in the doorway.

"Everything alright in here?" the older agent asked.

"Everything's fine," Derek replied. "Rossi, this is (Y/N). She works here."

Rossi wasn't blind. He knew you meant something more to Derek despite the younger man introducing you as an employee of the daycare center where all of you were standing in. Nonetheless, Rossi made no mention of it as he shook your hand and offered you his name.

"Are you the one who called 911, Miss? Can you tell us anything about the man who did this?"

"Yeah, I did. I've told pretty much everything to the officer over there," you said, pointing to the uniformed policeman standing outside in the hallway. "It was before lunch, so the kids were having outdoor playtime. One of the kids, George, suddenly came crying to me about someone being hurt. His hands were red. It looked like blood at first, but after a closer look, I realized that it was paint. That's when I told everyone to gather inside."

Rossi jotted down everything you said in his little notepad. "And that's when the man barged in?"

"Yeah. He tried to go through the front door at first and became aggressive when he noticed it was locked. I called 911 after that. He just barely managed to break down the back door when the police finally got here."

"And then he fled the scene," Rossi concluded. You nodded your head in confirmation. "Same MO as the school and the orphanage. This is definitely our guy."

"Did you happen to get a look at his face, sweetheart?" Derek asked.

"I, uh, I think so? But everything happened so fast, I don't know if my memory is reliable."

"You should still sit down with our sketch artist, Miss. We'll take any help we can get," Rossi responded.

For the next hour, Derek proceeded to investigate the crime scene with his team while you sat inside with a sketch artist who brought your hazy memory of the perpetrator's face to life. Derek eventually reunited with you again on the front porch of the daycare, approaching just in time to see you bidding a goodbye to one of the kids you were caring for.

"Can I get a one? And a two! A three? How about a four? Now a five! And a high five!" The little girl in front of you laughed wholeheartedly as she gave you a high-five. Derek's chest constricted at the sight. "Good job, Bee! Now, go to your mother. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay!" Bee exclaimed, throwing herself into your arms to give you one last hug. "I love you, Ms. (Y/L/N)."

"I love you, too, honey."

Your eyes never strayed from Bee as the little girl dashed towards her mother. You looked up to see Derek staring at you from across the porch, the tilt of your lips stretching even wider when you caught sight of his face.

"Hey, you."

"Hi, beautiful." Derek smiled before taking your hand in his. "Are you ready to go? C'mon, let's get you home."

"Wait, you're taking me? But you're on the job!"

"The team can survive a couple of hours without me. 'Sides, there's no way I'm letting you take the bus all by yourself after what happened here."

Your insides melted into a goo at Derek's statement. You wanted so desperately to kiss the living daylights out of him at that moment, but knowing that there were so many prying eyes around—including those belonging to his team—you decided to settle for a quick peck on his knuckles instead.

Ten minutes later, you found yourself sitting inside a standard FBI SUV with Derek driving next to you. The two of you arrived at your building in no time, where Derek insisted on walking you all the way up to your front door before offering to stay with you for the rest of the afternoon.

"I'm telling you, Derek, I'm fine! You should get back to your team."

"But, what if—"

"No what ifs, Mister. I'm okay. Besides, if anything happens, I will call you immediately."

"You promise?"

"Promise. You have nothing to worry about," you assured. "Now, go! Before I kick your sexy butt out of here."

Derek's eyes twinkled mischievously. "You think my butt is sexy?"

"Go, Derek!"

"Fine, fine! I'm going!"

You turned towards the apartment door to unlock it, but just as you were about to step inside, the sound of your name stopped you in your tracks.

"Forgot something."

You yelped in surprise when Derek pressed his lips to yours without warning. The kiss was over too soon before you could react, but the ferocity alone was still enough to send you soaring high towards the stratosphere.

"D-Derek?"

The man grinned after seeing your dumbfounded expression. "I'm going, sweetheart. I'll see you soon, 'aight?"

And just like that, Derek Morgan was gone, leaving your entire world whirling over the remaining taste of his lips on yours.