#mmhm good food

[whatkindofnameisella]

i would like it to be known that i am about 175 pages into ship of magic and already absolutely obsessed with whatever brashen and althea have going on

[nonranghaes]

heads up: food :)

"oooh, something smells good." vernon's hands slip into your hoodie's front pocket as he settles in behind you, half-awake right now but nevertheless enticed into the kitchen. he plants a sleepy kiss against your jaw before snuggling in, body leaning fully against you for a moment. "for us?"

"mmhm." you reach up, gently patting his cheek for a moment before you go back to what you're doing. "well. this one is," you nod toward the makings of a cobbler in front of you. "the one in the oven is for work."

he lets out a quiet hum, enough that you know he's listening, and he shifts subtly so that his weight isn't fully on you anymore. "... do we have ice cream?"

"just vanilla."

"sick." he squeezes you a little tighter. "... am i in the way?"

"a little," you say. the moment you feel his hands start to retreat, you stop what you're doing, grabbing his arms before he can move away. "i didn't say to leave, though."

you can feel his smile as he plans against kiss against your jaw, a little closer to your ear this time. you know that the coziness between the two of you is short-lived: by the time you get home this evening, you'll be exhausted. too sleepy to curl up and really enjoy spending time with your partner, and most likely you'll get teased by him for falling asleep on his shoulder again.

not that he minds. and not that you mind, either, actually. he's the love of your life: he's allowed to tease you in ways other people aren't. but you just decide to treasure this moment for now, while you're awake and still gathering the strength to face the day.

(it's easier now that he's here.)

[natlovesls2]

Gobble Gobble

Oscar Piastri x American Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: minimal swearing, mentions of alcohol no use of y/n, pretend this makes sense

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 1.7k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: Oscar experiences that absolute shit show that can be Thanksgiving or Oscar's first Thanksgiving with your family

︵ ⊹ ︵⏜︵ ⊹ ︵୨୧︵ ⊹ ︵⏜︵ ⊹ ︵︵ ⊹ ︵⏜︵ ⊹ ︵୨୧︵

Your family had begged you to invite Oscar to the annual Thanksgiving dinner and, with hesitance, you did. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to join in the celebration, rather you knew that your family could be much, especially during the holidays. But wasn’t that the case for every family? It was like the holiday season brought a weird tension. 

Oscar looked at the front of the home you had grown up in, letting out a nervous breath as you reached to open the small gate that separated you from the yard. “Are you ready?”

He gave you a nervous laugh, “As ready as I can be.” You had warned him, multiple times, about your family's antics. From the nosy aunts, who would undoubtedly interrogate him all night, to the loose-lipped brother. He wasn’t sure if they like him or even tolerate him, but he knew what to expect– or at least he thought so. 

“They’ll love you, trust me” you said, opening the gate and taking a small step into the front yard. Oscar smiled at you, liking the confidence you had in his ability to make a good first impression. 

“I trust you,” he gave you a small nod, his eyes flickering down to your lips, moving to stand closer to you. 

The moment was interrupted by the noise of the front door being swung open, your mom standing below it with a wide smile. She called out to you, walking down the steps of the porch to envelope you in a tight hug. Your mom held you for a moment before turning her attention to Oscar, smiling at him and giving him an equally tight hug. “You must be Oscar, it's so good to finally meet you,” she said, pulling away from him, “We’re still cooking up a storm, so I’d recommend staying out of the kitchen, but make yourself at home– because, well, you are home,” she said, urging you inside before retreating into the kitchen to resume cooking. 

You led Oscar into the house, taking off your coats and placing them on the coat rack. The house smelled like all sorts of food and baked goods, it was evident that you all would be eating a great deal. He stopped at the hallway, his eyes scanning the walls and the pictures that decorated them. “She likes you,” you told him, taking a hold of his hand. 

 Oscar took in every family photo, smiling, his gaze lingering at the ones from your childhood, “you think so?” he asked, turning to face you, his hand squeezing your own. 

“Mmhm, absolutely.”

He smiled at you, taking a step closer, his eyes flickering down to your lips. Oscar glanced around, as if he were a child about to steal a cookie from a cookie jar, deciding the coast was clear he wrapped his hands around your hips. His lips found yours, his hands slipping under your sweater and gently squeezing at your skin. Your lips tasted like the lipgloss you had applied earlier, a taste that Oscar had grown to love in the months you had been dating. He deepened the kiss, a hand coming up to tangle in your hair. 

“I am definitely going to gouge my eyes out,” said a voice you found all too familiar, causing you to jump away from Oscar.

Oscar turned to look at the direction in which the voice came, noticing a man leaning against the doorframe that led to the living room. Your brother stood there, a smirk on his face, he looked similar to you besides a few small differences in features. “What the hell is your problem?” you whispered harshly, glaring at your brother as you straightened yourself up. 

Your brother smiled at Oscar, extending his hand out as a greeting, “You two need to be aware of your surroundings” he said as Oscar shook his hand. 

“You need to stop being such a creep,” you quipped. 

“A creep, me?” your brother asked, holding back a smile, “says the girl who just a second ago had her boyfriends tongue shoved down her throat like a fucking vacuum.”

Oscar bit back a laugh, clearly amused by the situation, almost enjoying the way in which your face filled with embarrassment. You hadn’t lied when you said your brother said anything and everything that came to his mind. “How much is she paying you?” your brother asked Oscar, continuing to tease you. 

He turned to look at you, expecting you to lash out at your brother but found you only shaking your head at him. “No payment,” Oscar said, “It's all voluntary.”

is“Oh just piss off,” you said, playfully shoving your brother aside. He smiled at that, finding it amusing that you were more vocal against him while Oscar was around. Your brother prepared himself to speak again before being cut off, “Mooom! He’s bothering us!” you called for your mom, who yelled at your brother from the kitchen. 

He glared at you, flicking you off, “You’re such a baby, can’t handle shit,” he grumbled, leaving you and Oscar alone again.

“He's so annoying.”

Oscar smiled at you as you returned to his side, clearly still annoyed by your brother's behaviour, “He loves you, that's why he annoys you so much. It's a brother thing.” His eyes lingered on your lips, clearly wanting to continue your earlier actions but scared that another family member would magically materialize. 

“Sure he does, come on, I want you to meet my dad,” you said, reaching for Oscar's hand again, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance. 

“Lead the way.”

You led him down the hall to the living room, where your father would undoubtedly be watching a game of football. As you approached, your father glanced over his shoulder from the couch to get a look at you, noticing your intertwined hands. 

“Hey,” you greeted, pulling Oscar along to sit on the couch opposite of your dad, who greeted you with a soft ‘Hey’ and nod before turning his attention back to the game. “Who's winning?” you asked. Your dad grumbled, it was obvious that the team your family rooted for was losing, although your dad held out the hope that they’d make a comeback. He looked at Oscar for some time, trying to make an opinion of him. “This is Oscar,” you said, introducing him to your dad. 

He smiled at Oscar, extending his hand out for him to shake, “Yeah, I know who he is,” he says, his eyes returning to intently watch the television, “you always look like you’re desperately trying to cover up your stressed attitude on the TV.”

You let out a small laugh at that, causing Oscar to smile, “I suppose I do look rather tense from time to time,” he responded. 

Your dad takes another look at Oscar, “Make her cry and I’ll break your kneecaps,” he says with a smile, making it obvious that his threat was empty. Oscar let out a laugh, nodding at your dads words. It was clear that Oscar wasn’t the first to be given such warnings. 

“He's just messing with you– he wouldn't hurt a fly,” you assure Oscar, playfully glaring at your dad, a smile painting itself on your own face. Your dad chuckled, it was obvious that your dad was only joking around with him. 

“He likes you,” I whisper to Oscar.

You sit with your dad for a while, only half paying attention to the game before the doorbell rang. The sound of new voices filling the house as your relatives arrived for dinner. Your dad shook his head, letting out a sigh, “Let the chaos begin.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧��˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You sat at a long table filled to the brim with different Thanksgiving foods. A turkey sat in the middle, surrounded by the usual sides like mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, and stuffing. It was like those stereotypical Thanksgiving dinners you see in movies. Oscar was starting to feel overwhelmed by all the simultaneous talking and smells. 

“So, when's the wedding?” one of your aunts, Victoria was her name– she was the most nosy of them, asked expectantly. 

Poor Oscar nearly choked on the mouthful of turkey he had been eating, the sudden question taking him by complete surprise. He looked down at you with wide eyes, pleading you to answer before he said the wrong thing. 

“We haven’t really discussed that– I mean, we’ve only been dating for so long,” you responded. She raised an eyebrow at you and Oscar, amused by the way in which you had avoided truthfully answering her question. It was almost as if she wasn’t too convinced by your answer. 

“Leave them alone,” your mom said, attempting to jump to your defense. 

“Please,” you whispered, eyes glued to your plate as you moved the contents around with your fork, your hunger seeming to have abandoned you as the questioning began.

“I’m only teasing,” your aunt gave a small wave, clearly unphased by your moms words, “Do you want children?”

Oscar took a sip of his wine, attempting to keep cool after that very personal question. He could feel your eyes on him, and he reached down to hold onto your hand. “Children?” he said with a nervous laugh, “We haven’t really talked about that either,” he said, looking down at his plate to avoid eye contact. 

“But surely you must have an opinion of your own,” your aunt added. 

He took another sip of his wine, silently hoping they’d find someone else to interrogate, “I mean, yeah,” he started, playing with your fingers as if to distract himself, “Yes, I’d want kids… just not anytime soon– we’re still so young,” he looked at you warmly, a small smile appearing on his lips as he answered. 

“Oh he's perfect,” your grandma said from beside your mom, smiling widely at Oscar. Her comment made both of your parents smile, seemingly agreeing with what she had said, it was clear that Oscar had made a good first impression. He smiled at you, his smile growing as you kissed his cheek as your family finally moved on to their next victim. 

Dinner continued with more questioning, your family left you and Oscar alone for the most part, and more eating. Afterwards you all gathered in the living room to watch whatever Christmas movie had been picked that year. And as you rested your head on Oscar's shoulder, he felt as if he could get used to Thanksgiving with your family– no matter how intrusive their questions may be.

︵ ⊹ ︵⏜︵ ⊹ ︵୨୧︵ ⊹ ︵⏜︵ ⊹ ︵︵ ⊹ ︵⏜︵ ⊹ ︵୨୧︵

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Note: This is in no way me condoning the myth of the first thanksgiving. And it is important to acknowledge the atrocities committed against the indigenous people since the arrival of the English. please ignore the spelling or grammar mistakes, I've got to go make mac and cheese– peace out and happy turkey day to anyone who feasts on this day.

[iveneverbeenhere]

💋Ateez as Sugar Babies💋

Genre: Fluff, mildly suggestive

A/N: This is for me and @jjongbearshoney 🫡 also, in the process of making a masterlist and bio in general 🫡 do with that what you will

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

Hongjoong- Insane. He’ll become unhealthily attached to you, even if he tries to keep it professional. He’s ridiculously jealous and possessive around anyone and everyone, especially in public settings. He is borderline bratty with his attitude, whether because he wants his Balmain bag NOW or you’re not paying him enough attention.

| “Mama.”

“Yes, Baby?”

“Who were you on the phone with?”

He looks at you with a piercing glare, but the numerous black and purple hickies covering his upper body make him seem like a declawed kitten. You roll your eyes; he does this all the time.

“A coworker, baby.”

“Which one? What’s their name? The fuck are they calling you so late for? Don’t they have someone else to bother?”

“Baby, he’s new. He needs a little extra help.”

“Yeah, a little extra help into your pants.”

“Jesus Christ. How bout this, I’ll take you with me to work today to show you that he’s harmless. Hm?”

His face lights up deviously. He throws himself out of your shared bed to fix his bedhead and to wear his most revealing outfit. He can’t wait to show up your new employee. |

Seonghwa- He is such a sweet boy; hardly asks for anything, even though you constantly tell him you have money for him to spend. He uses his weekly allowance on Legos and games. He wants to be as good as possible for you.

| His head lazily lays on your lap as you gently scratch his scalp. He pays you no mind; he’s too absorbed in his newly bought Legos.

“Your roots are growing out, Star.”

“Are they, Mama?”

“Mmhm. How ‘bout I schedule you a haircut? Maybe, even dye it a new color.”

He fiddles with his finished legos and gives a small pout. He thought you liked the silver hair.

“...Ok, Mama.”

“Don’t be so pouty, Star. You know Mama loves whatever you do.”

You gently grab the sides of his head to lean down and kiss him on the forehead. He feels the imprint of Chanel lipstick stain his forehead and smiles up at you.

“Love you, Mama.” |

Yunho- He makes you feel like you adopted a large house dog. Ridiculously energetic, adorable, and lovesick. Like Seonghwa most of his allowance goes towards gaming and food; however, whatever he has left, he uses to buy lingerie. He likes to feel pretty for you.

| Yunho without fail will greet you at your shared home with a kiss and a crushing hug.

“Hi, Mama.”

“Hi, baby.”

He lays his head on your shoulder and rubs himself into your expensive Gucci suit. He tries to be more of a house husband than a sugar baby; He feels more like a golden retriever to you.

“‘Missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby. You did anything special while I was gone?”

His face perks up from your shoulder.

“Yeah! I played some games and I went shopping with Mingi. I bought something…special.”

“Oh? Well, let me get out of my work clothes, so you can show me the special thing you bought.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” |

Yeosang: This man is incredibly awkward😭. I can only see him getting involved with this because of Wooyoung or by pure accident; there is no in-between. He keeps his allowance in his bank account and only uses it for necessities or others. The money isn’t his concern; he’s too focused on you and your happiness.

| “How come you didn’t use the money I sent you, Puppy?”

He feels his cheeks heat up; not sure if it’s due to your direct questioning or the onslaught of bites and kisses, he turns away.

“C’mon, Pup. Was it not enough?”

“No…I just feel bad.”

Your head shoots up.

“Why?”

“‘Feels weird, Mama.”

“Oh, Puppy.”

You snuggle into him and give him a small kiss on his neck. You can see how red his ears are.

“I like spending money on you. Be more selfish with me. I can handle a few blows, Pup.”

He looks at the crown of your head; he can feel your breath tickle his neck.

“Ok, Mama.” I

Mingi- The most spoiled princess known to man. He gets attached to you so quick. Constant texts and calls that don’t even have to do with your agreement. He just loves you; the allowance is the cherry on top. Buys anime merch, food, games. He basically blows through his allowance every time. Another one who loves to buy lingerie, especially lacy stockings and collars. He wants to be your obsession.

I “Mama, look.”

He comes into your bedroom with a black cat ears headband and a bell collar.

You give a low whistle and motion him closer. He loyally follows.

“Don’t you look so pretty, Hun. Like a little black cat.”

One of your hands pat his hair while the other smooths itself under his collar to stretch it closer to you. He gives you a toothy smile as he blushes a soft pink.

“I bought a set to match.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme have a look, Princess.” |

San- He’s a bit more shy about being spoiled. He’s not ashamed about it, but the idea of someone taking such good care of him gives him butterflies. He gets attached almost as fast as Mingi. He uses his allowance for food, plushies, and on you. He likes to pick both your outfits; it makes y’all feel like a real couple.

I He lays down in his single bedroom surrounded by a mountain of plushies you bought him. He misses you. He wonders about asking to move in with you. He knows you’d let him; you never say no to him. His phone rings and he knows it’s you.

“Hi, Mama.”

“Hi, Handsome.”

He smiles into Shiber.

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing. Thinking about you.”

“Really?” He hears you smile through the phone.

“Mhm.”

“Well, I’m ‘bout to get off of work, so, why don’t I pick you up and take you home.”

“I’d like that.”

He’ll ask you tonight. I

Wooyoung- Brat of the century. He lives to get on your nerves and max out your card. A strict allowance is necessary with him because he’ll bleed you dry. He’s ungodly attached to you. He’ll demand attention every day, and he’ll make sure he gets it.

I “Mama. Ma. Mama.”

You take a deep sigh. You love Wooyoung so much, but he can be obnoxious.

“Yes, kitty?”

“Pay attention to me.”

You pinch your nose bridge and narrow your eyes. You need to finish your work.

“In a minute, kitty. I have to finish this assignment.”

He gives an exaggerated pout. You haven’t paid him mind all day. He’ll fix that.

You feel something rubbing your calf causing you to almost jump out of your seat.

“Jesus christ! What the fu-Jung Wooyoung!”

“Hi, Mommy.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing down there?”

“Helping you finish your work! Now lay back.”

He pisses you off so bad. I

Jongho- The only one who seems to keep it professional; he never asks for more allowance. He’s never more flirtatious than he needs to be. Honestly, he almost feels a bit cold in your interactions. You feel the business in your relationship. Little do you know, he’s been saving his allowance to buy a place together.

I He lays down in your bed with his hair ruffled from sleep. The white of your sheets contrasting his honey skin makes him look like a cherub on a cloud. You try to leave the bed slowly, so you can get to work on time; suddenly, you feel a hand gripping you. As if it

“Stay.”

You look over. Jongho, still half asleep, sinking into the pillow reached his hand out to grab you.

“Baby bear, I need to work.”

“Mhm mhm.” He shakes his head slightly.

“I’ll be late.”

He refuses to let go; that simple, rare action is enough to get you to stay. I

[ether972]

New Normal

Jinx and Ekko begin to redefine what they mean to each other, finding warmth and intimacy in a peaceful moment together. Post Season 2 Timebomb.

They don't kiss often—not because they don't want to, but because they never really figured out where they stand with each other. It took time after Jinx came back to Ekko, time to rebuild the fragile bridge between them. But there were fleeting moments—like the forehead kiss Ekko left her with that first night she showed up, after hours of talking, opening up, and piecing together what had actually happened, before tucking her into the treehouse's spare couch and murmuring a quiet "goodnight." Or the cheek kiss Jinx impulsively gave him when she got too excited after he helped fine-tune the flamethrower she'd been tinkering with for days. And then there was that kiss—innocent, but undeniably real—the one they shared on a night when Jinx was too deep in her head, spiraling over whether she even deserved the care and happiness Ekko gave her, after everything she'd done.

Those moments felt significant to her, yet unspoken. They didn't address what they meant, and maybe that was safer for them both. But lately, something had shifted for Jinx. The moments between kisses—the laughter, the teasing, the quiet moments of trust—felt more meaningful than the uncertainty of what they were waiting for. She didn't want them to be defined by fleeting, half-realized moments anymore, by kisses born from chaos or impulsiveness. She wanted them to know. To stand on solid ground together, not in the hazy in-between.

Ekko stood at the tiny counter of the treehouse's makeshift kitchen, cutting up vegetables with the steady precision he applied to everything. The air smelled of spices and sizzling oil, a simple yet warm contrast to the cold scent of Zaun outside. Jinx sat on the counter next to him, swinging her legs back and forth, occasionally reaching over to steal bits of chopped carrot and pop them into her mouth.

"Do you mind?" Ekko asked, shooting her a mock-annoyed glance. "You keep doing that, and there won't be anything left for dinner."

"Pfft," Jinx said, grinning mischievously as she grabbed another piece. "What are you gonna do? Stop me? I'd like to see you try."

"Oh, I will," Ekko replied, setting the knife down and crossing his arms. His eyebrow quirked, a playful challenge in his eyes.

Jinx leaned closer, her grin widening. "You're all talk, Mr Firelight. Bet you're too soft to—"

In a swift, precise motion, Ekko snagged her wrist mid-reach and lightly flicked her forehead with his other hand. She gasped dramatically, clutching her head like he'd just wounded her.

"Betrayal!" she exclaimed, her voice overly theatrical. "I thought we were working together!"

Ekko snorted, shaking his head as he turned back to the cutting board. "Since when is eating all the food before it's even cooked working?"

"Maybe your food's just too good," Jinx shot back, hopping down from the counter to stand next to him. She reached for another piece of carrot, but this time Ekko was ready, swatting her hand away before she could grab it.

Their banter continued as they worked together, Jinx bouncing around the small kitchen space while Ekko tried to keep some semblance of order. She'd stir the pot too vigorously, spilling broth onto the stove, or make dramatic commentary about the vegetables he was cutting. "Look at this carrot. Poor thing didn't stand a chance," she said at one point, holding up a slice like it was some fallen soldier.

But Ekko just laughed, shaking his head as he handed her a wooden spoon to stir with. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"You like it…" she quipped, winking at him.

He rolled his eyes, but the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips gave him away. "Mmhm,"

They fell into a rhythm, a natural back-and-forth that felt easy in a way neither of them had fully understood at first. For all their sharp edges and complicated histories, moments like this reminded them that they could carve out something soft, something new.

Jinx, stirring the pot with one hand, suddenly paused and glanced at Ekko. He was leaning slightly over the counter, focused on the task of slicing the last bit of onion. His brow furrowed just enough to make her smile—a little thing she noticed he always did when he was concentrating. The light in the room cast a faint glow on his face, and for a moment, she just… watched him.

It hit her, then, how far they'd come. From shared glances that carried years of pain to moments like this, where they could laugh and tease like they didn't have the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Before she could think too hard about it, Jinx moved. She set the spoon down and turned toward him, her movements quick but deliberate. Ekko barely had time to look up before she was there, her hand gently brushing his jaw as she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss wasn't rushed or messy—it was soft and warm. It was a choice, clear and intentional, and that made it feel all the more real.

For a split second, Ekko froze, caught off guard, but then he melted into it, his hand coming up to rest lightly on her waist. The kiss lingered, quiet and steady, until she finally pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.

"Whoa," he said softly, blinking at her like she'd just short-circuited his brain.

"Whoa?" Jinx repeated, raising an eyebrow. "That's all you've got?"

"What was that for?" Ekko asked, still processing.

"I… well," Jinx said, her lips curving into a small, almost shy smile. "Every time we kiss... it's like one of us is falling apart, or we just catch each other off guard. I don't want it to be like that anymore. I just want this to be us. A new normal, you know? No more surprises, no more breaking. Just… this."

Ekko stared at her for a moment, her words sinking in. Then, a slow, genuine smile spread across his face. "A new normal, huh?"

"Exactly," Jinx said, her grin growing wider, a spark of her usual energy returning. "Besides, you should've seen your face. Totally worth it."

"Doesn't that kinda defeat the point of no more surprises?" Ekko teased, his voice warm as his hand lingered on her waist. "But for the record… I'm good with this being our new normal."

Without hesitation, Ekko closed the space between them, pressing a quick, tender kiss to her lips. It was soft but certain, carrying all the warmth of his words. Jinx remained rooted where she was, her grin spreading wider as happiness lit up her eyes.

"Good," Jinx said simply, giving him a playful shove before grabbing the spoon again. "Now, keep chopping. Dinner's not gonna cook itself."

Ekko chuckled, shaking his head as he picked up the knife. The warmth of the kiss still lingered, but so did the ease between them—their laughter, their rhythm. Maybe this was their new normal. And honestly? He couldn't think of anything better.

[junkpuppet225]

note: Part Two. Daryl needs your help.

The next morning you’re sitting at the kitchen table sipping on your guilty pleasure when Daryl jogs down the stairs and for the first time since all of this started your heart skips a beat at the sight of him.

Despite having been with the group since the quarry the two of you aren’t friends. Not really. He’s shared his food with you and made sure your fires burned hot during those long winter nights before Alexandria but that’s about as far as it goes between the two of you.

Until yesterday at least. Desperate times and all that.

You’ve never even been on his radar but after your friendly back massage yesterday he’s definitely on yours. You stay hidden in the shadow of the kitchen watching him from the rim of your coffee cup, those damn sweat pants still hanging off his hip bones. The worn shirt you helped him into last night clings to his broad back as he opens the refrigerator door flooding the kitchen in a harsh unnatural light.

“Mornin’.”

Your eyes go wide as you sit your cup down on the table and gape at him. He didn’t even look at you but somehow knows you’re there - lurking in the shadows. Maybe you aren’t that far off his radar after all.

“Good morning.” The phrase comes out more of a question than a statement. You wonder how he slept, if his shoulder is any better? “You want a cup of coffee?” You’re feeling awfully helpful towards him all of a sudden. Daryl Dixon can get his own damn cup of coffee but the thought of him having to do that brings you to your feet. He watches you cross the kitchen and set your cup in the sink before assuring you he doesn’t drink that shit with a simple. “Nah.”

“How are you feeling today?”

“Fine.” He lies, eyebrows pulling together hard as he lifts his arm to pull out the pitcher of tea Carol made a few days ago. “Did you take those pills?”

“Mmhm.” He takes a drink straight from the pitcher, making your eyes go wide. “Are you telling me the truth?”

You watch him set the pitcher back in the refrigerator and close the door leaving you both standing in darkness now. “I’m not a liar.” He snaps causing your eyes to roll at the thought. “I hope not. You need to take them like I said.”

“I took ‘em.” He assures and this time you force yourself to believe him. It’s too early to argue with a grown man. “Okay, good.”

The awkwardness from last night fills the room but neither of you make a move to leave. Daryl’s blue eyes have you locked in place, searching for any sign of pain in their depths. “How are you really feeling?” Your words are so soft he takes an idle step towards you - filling your lungs with menthol. “Like shit, but better than yesterday.” He assures you just as quietly.

“Okay good.” You sound like a broken record. To your utter surprise, and possible horror Daryl smiles at you - sending an ache through the center of your chest. A rush of heat comes to your cheeks as you turn away from him quickly and take in a quick breath. “You still gonna help me with the bike today?” As if his smile wasn’t enough Daryl slips his fingers around your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“Sure.”

“Alright. M’gonna go get dressed and I’ll meet ya over there.”

You swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat and nod - forcing the image of Daryl changing out of his clothes from your mind and biting your tongue to keep from asking if he needs your help with the task. He raises an eyebrow - searching your face for another long moment before turning back to the steps and disappearing upstairs. Only when he’s out of sight do you allow yourself to breathe again.

X

If you thought things between you and Daryl were awkward in the darkness of the quiet kitchen they’re down right tense on Aaron’s garage floor. The archer is on his back beside you - the heat of his body radiating into yours as he explains what nuts needs loosened, his deep voice vibrating in your chest as he mutters something about the rear wheel and chain slack. It’s hard to concentrate with him this close.

You’re suddenly hyper aware of everything about him as he tries to help you, lifting his arm mindlessly to grab the back wheel. You turn your face to Daryl’s as a slew of profanity falls from his lips - his eyebrows pulled together in pain as he grinds his molars. “F-fuck.”

“You need to go see Pete before you really fuck yourself up Daryl.”

The growl that follows assures you that’s not happening. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere near that dead eye’d prick.” Daryl mutters adjusting himself back to your side as he lifts his arm again - forcing the pain away as he rotates the wheel to loosen the chain. Once it’s where he wants it his eyes fall to yours, surprised to see you staring at him. “What?” He grunts adverting his gaze quickly.

“You’re really stubborn.” You assure him softly and he laughs without humor, nodding to the nut to assure you he’s ready for it to be tightened. “Daryl…” His name rushes from your chest in a tone that brings his eyes back to yours, making your heart hammer as his gaze falls to your lips. The words you want to say are to personal - it’s not your place to reprimand him but the worry filling your chest of him suffering with this injury is to great.

“M’alright Y/N.”

Your hand slows above you as he says your name sending a herd of butterflies into your lower stomach and making your fingers shake with nervous energy. “…okay.” You whisper just as the wrench falls from your grasp, smacking you right in the forehead.

“Ow.”

You lift your head as Daryl leans over you bringing your throbbing face closer to his with a groan. “Ya alright?” The pain from your clumsiness is nothing compared to how hard your heart is beating now that he’s hovering over you with concern in his eyes. “Y-yeah, shit.”

Just when you think cardiac arrest isn’t in your near future Daryl brushes his calloused fingers across your face with a feather light touch, pushing your hair from your eyes as he studies the spot where the wrench assulted you while all of the air rushes from your lungs.

“You’ll live.” He mutters with a grin bringing on yours as you place your fingers to the sore spot just above your eyebrow. “You a doctor now?” You ask repeating his question from yesterday as he smirks and pushes himself away from you with a groan.

Now that there’s some space between the two of you, you can breathe easier trying to ease your racing heart as Daryl offers you his left hand and pulls you to your feet. Just like that you’re back in his orbit and he holds on to your hand a moment too long before dropping it like it burnt him. “Thanks…, for the help.”

“Y-yeah. No problem. You aren’t going to ride with your arm messed up are you?”

“Nah.” Is all he says searching your eyes another moment before someone calls his name from the street. You both look up to Rick who’s standing just outside Aaron’s garage with an eyebrow raised in question.

“Daryl. Y/N. What’s going on?”

Daryl tenses at your side. He doesn’t want anyone to know he fucked his arm up. Especially Rick. “Oh, Daryl was just showing me his motorcycle. My dad was a bike guy.” It wasn’t a lie. “Right.” You don’t think you’ve fooled the fearless leader but he asks Daryl to walk with him as you all say your goodbyes. You turn back to the house to seek out Judith, missing Daryl glance behind himself to watch you leave.

X

[seungfl0wer]

*Hyunjin Calling You Clingy*

Paring: Hyunjin x Reader (GN)

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Arguing, Cursing, Op Accidentally Punches Hyune in the nose, Blood Mentions, Not Proofread

This is part of a series find the others here:

Bangchan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

-🩵

Today was a rough day for your boyfriend or so you heard. Walking into the dorms Han was leaving to go get food when he smiled at you “ah y/n good thing you’re here Hyunjins in a bad mood, maybe you can make him feel better” he said as he put on his jacket. “Why? What happened?” You asked surprise because he hadn’t said anything about it. “Oh you know choreograph not going well, he also got into a small argument with Changbin about it so it’s not going to well.” He said as he opened the door to leave. “I’ll try my best” you salute standing there him laughing as he left.

You made your way to his room knocking not wanting to barge in when he was already upset “what!” He said loudly “Jinnie it’s me!” You said trying to put on the happiest voice you could. You could hear him sighing as he came to the door unlocking it he walked back to what he was doing not even greeting you at the door.

“Hi baby” you said with a sickening sweet smile. “Hi” is all he said back his voice a bit cold as he continued to paint. “Ooh whatcha painting?” You asked moving behind him to watch. To you, you were just watching him to him, it felt like you were hovering over. “Can you not stand so close?” He said moving his chair up a bit. Your eyebrows raised a bit “mhm” you said moving back sitting on the bed now.

“I’ve missed you!” You said smiling behind him. He didn’t say anything just “mmhm” to your words. You felt your heart become a bit heavy, feeling bad for him but also now bad you bothered him. You sat in silence for a few minutes before he spoke “so why are you here?” His tone coming off as annoyed.

“Oh uh.. just missed you.” Your voice trailing off at how he was being towards you. “You literally see me all the time.” He said rolling his eyes even though you couldn’t see it. “Yeah well I can still miss you haven’t see you at all today” you huffed from behind him. “and?” He said blankly “what do you mean and??” You questioned your voice becoming more aggressive. “And? Like why’s it such a bad thing not to see me? Why do you always have to be clingy and come in my personal space when I didn’t even ask you to.” His words hurt as they came out digging deeply into you.

“Did you really just call me clingy? Me? The one that tries giving you space and then you whine I’m not paying attention to you?” He argued back. “I don’t care how shitty your day was today why the fuck are you taking it out on me!” You continued making Hyune stop painting he turned his body to face you face red “My day was shit yeah, and all I wanted to do is come home and paint. I wanted to relax, cool down and do something I loved but no I’m forced to sit here listening to you bitch and complain.” His words were hot like lava spewing out of him like a volcano.

“Ive literally only said I fucking missed you, you asshole!” You said getting up. As you got up hyunjin went to move hitting the table he was working on and spilling the water all over his painting. His eyes went wide anger overcoming him “See what you fucking do! You fucking ruin everything!” He screamed at you now you could see tears start to fall down his cheek as he yelled. “Go home y/n! I don’t want to see you for a while!” He said his anger now turning into sobs.

He was so overwhelmed and stressed he just broke down. “Hyune..” you said softly reaching out for him “please.. just leave me alone right now.. I just want to be alone..” he said his voice cracking as he sobbed into his hands. “If.. if you do need me.. you know where I’m at..” you said getting up to leave to room. You ended up seeing Han as you got into your car your face saying everything about what had happened he could only give you a sad smile and wave as you drove back to your house.

It was about 2AM when you felt your bed dip down a bit, startled you jolted up punching whoever was there straight in the nose. “AH Fuck!” The familiar voice shrieked. You quickly turned on your bed side light to see your boyfriend there holding his now bleeding nose “Oh my fucking jinnie im so sorry!” You said your hands stuttering as you go to touch. “Honestly don’t be sorry after how I was today I deserved that.” He said getting up to head to your bathroom.

You followed him “don’t say that no matter how much we argue I’ll never think hitting you would solve things” you said grabbing a tissue to wipe his lips now stained with blood. You helped clean him up his eyes never meeting yours, he quickly grabbed your hand that was on his face looking up at you. “Y/n listen- im sorry for what I said it was out of anger.”

You nod “yeah no shit” your tone almost teasing “im being serious I know it’s not an excuse but everything just came crashing down and you coming over when I really needed time to clear my head just- made it worse im sorry i really am though.” He blabbed on. “They say you say things you’re to afraid of saying when your angry.” You said grabbing another tissue his nose still bleeding.

“No really y/n I-“ you cut him off “no Jinnie I get it really.. I am clingy and I do fuck things up a lot no biggie” you nonchalant words making his heart break “y/n your not-“ he tried you cutting him off again “listen.. you’re gonna say no and you didn’t mean it but the fact of the matter is I am clingy hyune I know I am. It’s something I’m gonna have to work on. However you’re gonna have to work on talking to me and communicating things. Tell me when you wanna be left alone before you get angry or just tell me through texts like ‘hey don’t come over it’s me time’ something hyune” you rambled.

He looked up at you “I am sorry for what I said though.. I’m sorry for hurting you.” He said his voice sounding almost strained. You shrug at his response “nothing we can do now, but i think I’ll start giving you more space. Maybe work on me as I do.” You said moving your body. “Your nose is all good.”

He stood up looking in the mirror “you got me really good” he said with a soft chuckle “yeah remember that when you wanna fight again.” You teased throwing up your fists. “Yeah yeah” he said wrapping his arms around you “can we go cuddle and maybe talk a bit?” He asked his voice soft, you nod before he lets you go. “But first” he said taking out a painting he had in his backpack. “This is for you.” He said handing you a pretty painting of flowers in a meadow. “Hyune” you said smiling at it “do you remember that place?” He asked tilting his head “it’s the place I took you to when I asked you to be mine.” He said kissing your forehead. “You might annoy me at times but you’ll always be my muse.” He said fluffing your hair.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[st4rymoon]

⋆｡˚ 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐀𝐝𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 彡

𝟏𝟖+ | 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎' 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

- 18+, unprotected sex, cream pie, nude! Videos being sent from both reader and Miguel, spanking, switch Miguel, language, teasing, riding!, bratty reader, nerdy Miguel <3, angry mig, fingering!, blowjob!, face fucking!, pet names

Part 3 of part 1 | part 2

Miguel was nothing like you imagined once you really got to know him and it came as a surprise to say the least.

It was obvious that you and Miguel were developing an unspoken relationship after he spent the night at your apartment. Although neither of you communicated about where you were headed with it, there was a change in Miguel's usual routine, even without exchanging any words.

He used to sit across the classroom, but now he was sitting right beside you. He used to eat alone most nights, but suddenly you were there by his side, eating your comfort foods together.

Neither of you thought much had changed, but the second time you sat together, your professor even brought up that the study session did both of you good.

Now you guys don’t look like you want to fight each other when when talking!

She said it with a smile on her face, suspecting that the coziness between you was more than just friends. But when it came to the presentation, she was even more amazed.

Never in her years of teaching had she stood up and clapped for a presentation but the work you and Miguel did on your topic was almost double of what she had asked for.

“What a presentation, I knew both of you would do great together and I was right!” She praised once more as both of you stayed behind to talk to her a bit.

“He isn’t so bad” you joke. Miguel on the other hand was smiling like a fool as he watched you talk on about how both of you managed to get the quality of work out in such short time. “Turns out you didn’t drop us two points” Miguel teased.

Your eyes narrowed at his words, he will never let that slide will he? “What do you mean?” The professor smiled “Nothing! He just always brings up beating me by two points on an exam” you sigh.

“Mmhm” she nodded. “Anyways, I don’t want to keep you any longer! Go on and have fun” she shooed you off just like before.

Miguel put his arm around your shoulder as you both left class. "I'm sorry for teasing you in front of her. I just like seeing you get mad," he said with a kiss on your cheek.

“Keep it up and you’ll be locked out of my apartment” you threatened. “Oh sure I will, you’ll be beggin’ me through the phone to fuck that pretty little face out the second you walk in” Miguel purred.

You rolled your eyes at his cockiness “like you won’t be sending me videos of you fucking yourself with your hand pft. Fuckkk jus’ like that “ you mocked.

Even if you were making fun of him you always loved the videos he sent you but it was always fun to tease him about it. You catch yourself thinking of his hand wrapped around his cock, fucking into his fist as he whimpered your name.

You can still see the image of his pretty thick cock coated in his cum as he overstimulated himself, his voice rumbling through the phone as he panted in lust.

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t honey, I’ll say it with my chest that I like fucking myself to the thought of you. And I know you loveee it when I send you videos” Miguel cooed.

You rolled your eyes at his tone, cocky as always. “I’m going home” you scoff. Miguel pouted ay mami ya sabes que nomas te quiero fregar. I’m jus’ teasing baby.

“I have one class left but I’ll meet you at your apartment yeah?” Miguel sighed in annoyance as he looked at his watch “mhm, see you there” you nodded as he pulled you into a kiss “be good” he winked as he gave a final goodbye.

The second you turned around you smiled to yourself. An idea was coming to mind.

Miguel always got bored in his English class, as it was his least favorite subject being a science nerd. You thought of repaying him for all the videos he had sent you. To do so, you decided to send him a video for the first time today.

Once you made it home, you shuffled out of your shoes and almost ran into your room. Which matching set? The red lace? Black lace? Oh! You forget about the white one you had just ordered online. They’d be perfect.

Slipping your casual panties and bra off, you semi hurriedly change into the new brand new white lace set. You glared into the mirror as the white thin lace cupped your tits perfect, the pretty pink bows on each side of the straps sitting perfect.

The panties on the other hand were a thicker material with an outer lace detailing, it covered you up but still hugged the curves of your body beautifully.

Miguel would definitely be pissed. You can see it now, his fist clenched under the desk as he tries to stop the growing bulge in his pants from growing. And oh how he hoped no one else saw what you’d sent, he’d throw a side eye back to the person behind him just to make sure they weren’t looking at his screen.

You sat yourself down onto the bed, phone in hand. You opened the camera app and were faced with the reflection of yourself on the screen. You shuffled around to get the perfect angle of your tits almost spilling out as you laid back before pressing record.

You squeezed and kneaded each breast, moaning softly and only allowing your mouth to be visible on screen. You arched and squirmed as your hand ran down your body with your phone following.

The lighting in the room enhanced the visual of your pretty cunt being hugged by the white panties. Cupping and softly rubbing your cunt before ending the video.

You watched it over and decided it was good enough to send. Within a few clicks you were on Miguel’s messages, and just like that, sent.

You smiled as the small lettering on the bottom said read within a few seconds. While he watched you’d record another, now moving your panties to the side and giving the camera a full view of your glimmering cunt.

You rubbed soft circles onto your clit, letting out a soft moan as you rolled your hips onto your fingers. You didn’t even bother watching this one as you got back into the messaging app.

You could see the bubbles typing as you sent the other video, the cover being of your fingers moving your thin panties to the side. And just like that, the bubbles disappeared.

There was no reply for a few minutes, just the read letting you know he saw it. You watched your phone, waiting for a text but to no avail. Wow.

Was he just ignoring you now? Well, you’ll make sure it bothers him even more. You went on to send him another video but now your two fingers were pumping in and out of you at a messy slow angle.

The lewd sounds of your pussy making it pornographers dream. Once you sent that one, you knew he was staring at his massages because within a second the message said read.

You thought Miguel was ignoring you but in reality he was watching the videos over and over again. Even in class he managed the hide his phone between his thighs and give himself just enough room to watch his phone. He put on one AirPod and put up the volume.

He looked around making sure no one was watching him before he pressed play. He let out an almost audible moan as he saw your tits on full display, he squirmed in his seat as you lowered the phone.

He was going to say how pretty you looked until he saw your pussy as the cover to the next video. His eyes widened as he pressed play, you sounded like a fucking dream. Miggg I miss you so much, miss you inside me

He was only 30 mintues into class and he was paying no mind to whatever the professor was talking about. Then it just got worse.

He could feel himself growing hard at the visual of your short fingers trying their best to fuck your self the way he did, your pretty little whines and whimpers only turning him on more.

Miguel shut his laptop, messily packing up his things and got the hell out of the fucking class room. He could just read up on whatever bullshit the professor was going in about.

He had a tense look on his face, his body tense and now the once tucked hoodie now hanging lower down his legs.

You sat in your bed without a worry in the world, you laughed as you imagined how painful it was to for him to sit in his class and watch you play with yourself through the screen.

You had your headphones on as you laid on your tummy, listening to your favorite song with a confident smile on your face.

The sound of the your door opening didn’t make it through the sound cancelled headphones as Miguel threw his stuff onto the ground and stomped toward your bedroom.

A loud yell echoed through your apartment as you yelled from the harsh smack on your ass. You jumped out of your headphones and sat up in a matter of seconds.

But before you could even process what had happened you were dragged onto the edge of the bed, perched up infront of Miguel as he angrily stared down at you with his arms crossed“you think that was funny huh?” Was all he said.

You tried to hold the slight giggle slipping past your lips “just a little.”

He scoffed and pulled you onto your feet “you sure do look pretty don’t you? Turn around for me” he coldly seethed “I don’t want to” you mocked with a little smirk on your face.

“You don’t want to?” He repeated before yanking you into his arms and sitting on the bed. You were giggling as he manhandled you onto his lap “why not” Miguel huffed with his hand holding your face to his “because I like how you get when I don’t do what you want.”

You know you were being a bit bratty, something Miguel had never seen to this extent but oh how he sure was loving it. “You like it when I get mad huh? Why? Because you want me to wear out that bratty little attitude? Tell me.”

Miguel was angry beyond belief. He didn’t like knowing someone could’ve seen you on his screen yet he loved knowing if they did, they’d know you were his. “I do mig, I love it when you're all big and mean” you pouted as you grind your hips onto his.

He let out a deep groan as you did so. “Then I guess I’ll be just that” he hissed while flipping you onto your stomach. You were pressed against his legs, your ass in perfect view as your head dangled besides his hip “I don’t wanna wear a peep out of you” Miguel seethed as he squeezed the fatty flesh of your ass.

He groaned as he caught a glimpse of your plump cunt “look at that” he hummed as two of his fingers pressed onto your folds, the faint wet spot on your panties making him smile.

You giggled as he cuffed your panties and dragged them down your thighs. You could feel his cock pressing onto your waist as you laid over his knee.

Miguel’s thick hand smacked down onto your ass, the harsh hit making you flinch but were quickly met with his warm hands kneading the spot right after. “How many do you think you deserve” he questioned.

“As many as you think I deserve” you cooed with your hips wiggling up in the air. You were met with a satisfied moan from above as another harsh smack hit onto your ass.

After many harsh hits, you began to regret the effort to be snarky. You underestimated how heavy his hand was as he continuously spanked you and he was fully aware of it too.

The once giggly Bratty whines from you now growing shaky and tired. “It’s too much now? You said you could take it” he chuckled. You nodded as he kneaded your ass and giving you one last smack before dipping his two fingers into your cunt.

“She’s all nice and wet for me isn’t she?” Miguel dipped his fingers slowly into your gushy cunt. His fingers were now coated in your sticky cum with each pump of his digits.

Soft whines escape your lips as he let out a needy moan. Miguel was growing impatient as his painfully hard cock strained against his jeans so he made a quick decision to flip you onto the bed.

You whined at the loss of his fingers but were met with a sight that made your thighs clench. Miguel looked completely ruined, his hair was disheveled and his glasses were on the bridge of his nose.

He looked primal with his eyes boring into yours “you really walked out of class for me” you smiled as he pulled his shirt off and moved up the bed.

He ignored your words as he ripped your legs apart and settled himself between you. His jeans were still on as he buried himself into your neck, his hands squeezing your thighs as he pressed himself onto your cunt.

“You think it was funny to send me those in class? What if someone saw them, then what would we have done?” Miguel heavily panted. “I wasn’t trying to be funny, I just wanted to show you how much I missed you” you pouted.

You could feel how hard he was trying to hold back from just fucking you into the sheets. You didn’t know why he was holding back but you could guess it was to teach you a lesson.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm”

“Then show me” Miguel smiled as he began to unbuckle his belt. He kicked his jeans off and swapped positions. His hands held onto your thighs as you sat perked onto his lap.

“Go on” he nodded. You smiled as your fingers cuffed his boxers and dragged them down his thick thighs. You licked your lips at the sight of his grithy cock, you shuffled down to your knees and glared up at him with an innocent smile.

Miguel’s hips julted up the second you held him in your hand and took him into your mouth. A gruntled moan spills from his lips as you bobbed your head up and down, tounge twirling around his base just like he loves it.

His hand flew down to your head, his right hand guiding you as his deep moans filled the room “jus’ like that bunny, o- oh fuck! Fuck jus- like that yeah” he was muttering praises as you worked your mouth around him.

You hummed as his hips began to thrust into your mouth, both of his hands now holding your head in place as he fucked your face out “oohhh fuckkkk feels so fuckin’ good love, a- ah! Oh god” he seethed.

You began to breath through your nose as you gagged with each heavy thrust “that’s it, take it” he seethed with a deadly glare in his eyes. Your hands held onto his thighs as he brutally fucked your face, but before he could cum you fully pulled yourself out of his grasp.

He groaned angrily as you moved up his hips with saliva dripping down your chin. Miguel’s eyes squeezed shut at the loss of pleasure snd before he could scold you for stopping you he was met with your pussy sleeving his cock.

“Fucking f- ah!” He seethed as you held him down by his shoulders, using his cock like your favorite toy as your hips slammed down onto his cock. You watched as Miguel’s eyes rolled back, his glasses now laying besides him as he loudly moaned.

Miguel was always amazed at the way you rode him, your hips circling and slamming onto his lap. He could hear the lewd sounds of your pussy with each thrust.

He didn’t bother moving his hips as you rode him like a a personal stallion “feels so good mig, always feel sooo good” you cried as he hit the perfect spot over and over again.

He dumbly nodded as he watched your tits bounce with each thrust, even catching the way your thighs began to clench. Your nails scratched down his chest as his fat cock stretched your cunt out perfectly, fulfilling every need and desire as you began to clench around him.

“Mig mig! Miguel oh fu-“ you cried out as his angry tip hit deep into your guts. Your moans filled his ears as you gushed around his cock, Miguel finally let himself cum as you fell onto his chest. His hands held your hips tightly as he softly runts into your cunt.

The lewd sticky sounds of both of your cum sounding like heaven. His heavy breaths and moans coming to a halt as you both came down from your highs.

“Guess you did miss me” he weakly smiled, his eyes almost closed as he pated your head softly, helping you relax in his arms.



[the-kr8tor]

👀🤣 may I request a Christmas fic where one/both the twins see R kissing Santa Claus (but it’s actually Hobie dressed as him) and they start an all out war against Santa? Can’t stop laughing my ass off from this idea

- 😅 (@hyperfix-wip )

Hehehe thank you for the cutest prompt!! I've always wanted to write this trope 😘❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 2k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Dad! Hobie, mom! Reader, Billie and Ramona AU, twin AU, cw food mentions, fluff!

Navigation

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Billie wakes up with a start, heart pounding in her ears from the sudden wake up call. “What—?!” Her mouth is covered by a familiar hand, silencing her yell. “Mmhm?!” Eyes wide, she hones in on her twin’s face in the dark of their shared room. Save for the light flooding inside from the cracked open door, and their Spider-Man night light, it's pitch black.

“It's me!” Ramona whisper yells, front tooth still missing after she lost it in the playground. “Someone's downstairs. I think it's him!” Her eyes shine with excitement, curls bobbing up and down as she tries to contain her giddiness.

Billie yanks her sister's hand away, frowning at her from the sudden intrusion. “I was having a good dream, Mon.” Her look reminds Mona of her dad's exact expression when he has to mow the lawn again.

Mona ignores her sister's annoyance, “didn't you hear what I said? Santa's ‘ere! At our house!” She whisper yells again, this time loud enough for whoever's downstairs to pause their movements. Her eyes widened, hands covering her mouth to tamp down her excitement. “We should stay quiet—”

“Santa's ‘ere!” Billie is quieted once again by Mona's hands.

After waiting for a minute, the girls slowly and silently go outside of their room, matching holiday socks softly walking across the polished floorboards. Their pajamas are also on theme, with Mona opting for a pink sugar plum fairy matching set, and Billie wearing the classic Santa Clause set. Both that you've lovingly made for them. They're clearly excited, especially when it comes to the big bearded man in red. Billie more especially, after you and Hobie brought them to a local mall to see Santa and for them to give them their wishlist, she's been raving about wanting to stay up to catch him in the act. But after watching home alone and having a belly full of warm milk, she went out like a light. Mona on the other hand wants to see him eat the cookies you two prepared for Santa. It's her favourite, chocolate chips with marshmallows. She's hoping that the big man would like it, especially that she gave him the batch from her personal stash.

As they walk out of the hallway and into the floors of the second floor landing, they start to crawl once they see shadows dance along the walls of the living room. The tree that the four of you lovingly put up and decorated are twinkling with the holiday lights, reds, greens and yellows blinking in and out of the room.

“Do you think they'll like it?” They hear your familiar voice, whispering downstairs.

The girls make it to the stairs that overlook the living room, they make themselves smaller by lying prone on the cold floor, tiny hands grasping at the bannisters. Their eyes widen at the sight of who you are talking to.

Right next to you is the man of the hour himself, dressed in red with a giant sack of presents right next to him. He's taller than they've expected, and slimmer. Maybe Santa's cutting back on the cookies.

Billie grabs Mona's shoulder, shaking her excitedly. They wordlessly communicate through looks, based on their happy expressions, they feel like the luckiest kids in the world. They continue to watch Santa work his magic as he places wrapped presents underneath the tree with their names written on them.

“I know they'll love ‘em. ‘sides, Mona's been askin’ for it since July.” Santa replies to you, brown eyes shining in the string lights. His eyes seem to smile at you sitting in the corner of the room, hand occupied with a warm cup of eggnog. The bottom half of Santa's face is obscured by his big white beard, but he's clearly smiling softly at you. “And Bee always wanted that moon lamp ever since she saw Gwen's.”

Beaming at jolly Nick, you leave your cup on the coffee table to walk over to him. “I know, but what if they suddenly don't want those anymore.”

Santa stretches his hand out to you, beckoning you closer as he abandons the sack of presents on the floor. “Love,” love? The girls look at eachother with furrowed brows. Only their dad calls you that, and maybe occasionally that one shop owner downtown that you always buy fabrics from. “Y’know the girls would still be happy even if we gave them a potato each.”

You come to his side without saying anything about the close proximity to the actual Santa. The girls narrow their eyes at Santa's glove hand splayed across the small of your back, thumb rubbing gently across your soft pajama shirt. Only their dad gets to hold you like that.

Chuckling, you move to half hug him, arm wrapped around his back while you place your chin atop the soft red jacket. “Why a potato?”

“Because they go wild for chips.” He looks at you through gentle eyes, nudging his forehead on top of your own, the faux fur of his hat is soft against your skin.

“That's true, maybe we should've gotten them a whole sack of potatoes instead.” Your grin has the girls worried, especially when you move closer to him that the girls would know that it would have their dad burst into tears if they ever saw the scene in front of him.

“That's why ‘m santa, lovie.”

“Mm-hmm,” now you fully embrace him. The girls share a heavy look. “Why are you in full get up again? They won't be able to see you in this, not while they're snoring away all the cookies they had.”

“I know,” he shrugs, “what if they wake up, it'll be a nice memory for ‘em.” His arm squeezes you, hand dangerously close to your behind. The twins are both pissed, standing up from their place atop the stairs. “Or, ‘m all dressed up for you, love.” Santa winks at you, and you giggle in his arms. “Give big red a kiss, yeah?” As he leans in, the twins run downstairs swiftly, yelling and screaming at him to let their mum go.

“What— girls!” You move away, arms trying to block their attacks from hitting Santa.

“Not our mum!” Billie makes it to him first, clinging herself on his leg, trying to bite him through his red pants.

“We trusted you, Santa!” Mona leaps to punch at his stomach, earning a pained groan from the bearded man.

“Mona, no!” You grab her by the armpits as she continues to flail around, trying to get another hit. Good thing you’ve gotten to her before she aimed at his crotch. “Baby, no, that's—!” You contemplate telling them the truth, but Hobie's subtle head shake has you clamping down and embracing Mona.

“Ow, fuc–fudge!” Hobie hops around the room, trying to wiggle free of Billie, who's still clutching at his leg. “Billie, stop!” The one time that his spidey senses failed him.

“I don't care if ‘m on the naughty list! You tried to kiss our mum!” She chomps down on his leg, and he yelps when her baby teeth sink into the fabric and into his leg.

Hobie has no choice but to grab Billie the same way you did with Mona. He holds her in front of him, an arm's length away, still trying to take a chunk out of him. He feels like he ruined the magic of Santa for them. Not to mention the song.

“Stop–!” Hobie holds out his hand to her to tell her that he means no harm, but she tries to bite at his finger. “Billie—!”

“Daddy!” Ramona screams out, voice echoing and rumbling the house. “Daddy, there's an– an impruder!”

You would've chuckled at her fumbled pronunciation of intruder and told her the right way to say it, but when she's on the verge of tears; the both of them are, you have to think of a solution.

“Daddy!” Billie joins in, now fully sobbing. “H–He kissed mummy!”

“I haven't! Not yet!” Hobie tries to defend himself, or Santa for that matter. But it makes the whole thing so much worse when Billie wiggles herself out of his grasp to run towards yours and Hobie's bedroom while crying for him. “Shi—!”

You meet with his eyes while embracing a crying Mona. Mouthing a ‘Go!’ He immediately knows what you're up to. Your synergy levels with him are off the charts.

He leaves through the window, snow crunching underneath him and almost freezing him in the spot. He slowly rips off the Santa outfit one by one whilst he makes his way towards the back of the house. Shedding the beard and tossing it haphazardly in the backyard, he crawls on the wall, finally making it to the bedroom window just as when Billie opens the door with a loud creak.

Feigning naiveté, he acts shocked at her weeping as he opens his arms to her. “What happened?” She sobs on his sleep shirt, drenching it with tears. As Hobie pats her back, he realises that he's still wearing the gloves which he promptly throws away and under the bed before she could see it. “C’mon, mac, tell dad.” He cups her wet cheeks, trying to calm his little girl down.

“I saw mummy kissing Santa Claus!”

Hearing Mona's cry in the doorway with you carrying her, he knows that you two have a long night ahead of you.

—

“Are you sure you want to change pajamas, Billie? You said it's your favourite. The red suits you—” You try to placate her with a plate of chocolate pancakes.

“Yes.” She says so surely with her arms crossed over her chest, still fuming. “I hate Santa.”

Hobie's sitting right next to Mona, hand rubbing along her back whilst she stares angrily at the empty plate of cookies she left for Santa sitting on the counter. “Me too.” She huffs, stabbing her pancakes with a fork.

You share a look with Hobie, hoping that he has any idea how to calm them down. Hugging Billie seems to tamp down her anger, but she still looks at you with furrowed brows after you've apologized profusely.

“Why did you kiss, Santa?” She asked a few hours ago, stomping her little foot down on your bedroom floor, while her sister followed her lead.

“I didn't!” You stared at Hobie right next to you on the bed, looking like he's about to burst into laughter but is keeping it in. “And I wasn't gonna!”

After that whole ordeal, they seem to simmer down to a silent anger that still reverberates through the house. Maybe opening the presents earlier would make them forget it and make them smile.

“We should make signs, Bee! Like what dad makes so Santa knows not to come back ‘ere!” Mona lights up, you finally got a smile out of her.

“That's brilliant!” Hobie plays along, and Billie agrees with rapid nodding that you had to stop with your hand on her forehead before she breaks something. “I'll get my supplies, you two go finish your pancakes, yeah?” Just as he says it, they scarf down the pancakes, prompting Hobie to grab your hand and speed walk away from the kitchen.

Once the two of you are out of earshot and their sights, he corners you against a wall, hands cradling your cheeks, and sighing as he relaxes atop you.

You laugh against his hair, pressing lazy kisses on his hairline. “Don't forget to grab the outfit outside, Hobie. I made that to tailor you and you only.”

He lifts his head up from your chest, cheeks puffed out from sleepiness. Blowing out air, you giggle at him as he flutters your lashes. “I know, love.” His eyes roam all over your face, looking at every curve and dip until he stops at your lips. “I still haven't gotten my answer.”

“Or what? You'll put me on the naughty list?”

Hobie leans closer, lips brushing along your waiting lips. “Lovie, you're on my list every year.”

“I hope I'm the only one on it.” You say, wordlessly inviting him for a kiss by pecking his jaw softly.

“You and you only.” With a chuckle atop your lips, he kisses you under the mistletoe he subtly put up with the sole purpose of kissing you underneath it.

[lnfours]

i feel like youre the only one who could understand my thoughts rn, hear me out: uni student who is having a hard time being motivated and is justt feeling overall down about school and such. THEN, lando comfort, just being there and being so comforting (this is not at all inspired by my life or anything...truth, ive been having such a shit week and i just know that this week is going to be bad too and i really need comfort, but am lacking in the friend/boyfriend department and my phone calls with my mom are simply not doing it for me anymore. okay enough with the venting.)

i definitely, 100% understand your situation. school is stressful and hard, especially when you’re feeling unmotivated. remember to give yourself breaks as needed, and my messages are always open if you need anything ❤️

‘feeling 22’ birthday sleepover

the sound of the front door opening sounded through the apartment before his voice did, "hey, baby."

you looked up from your laptop, smiling softly at him from the spot on the couch that you had realized you'd been at all day. the sun was beginning to set, peaking in through the curtains in the living room. he walked up behind the couch, wrapping his arms around you, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"it's five already?" you asked, glancing up at the time in the corner of your screen. sure enough, it was a little after five. you had quite literally been working on this final project all day.

he hummed, resting his head on top of yours, "mmhm," his nose absentmindedly nuzzled into the hair ontop of your head, taking in the smell of your shampoo, "have you been working on this all day?"

you nodded, sighing before pulling off your glasses, rubbing your eyes, "yeah and i feel like i've barely made a dent in it. i feel like no matter what i put, my professor isn't going to be impressed."

"he'd be an idiot not to be impressed with anything you do."

"yeah, but it needs to be perfect if i want to land that internship," you said, "and it's nowhere near perfect. no matter how hard i work i feel like it's not good enough and i just... i don't know what to do."

"take a break, baby," he said, "you've been at this all day. rest the rest of the night and have another go at it tomorrow or the next day. little by little."

you knew he had a point, but you sat there defeated as you tried to get yourself to close your laptop, "okay, yeah, just let me read it over one last time and then i'll be done for the night."

he nodded, "okay, just once though," he said, standing up again, "i have an idea, actually. i'll be right back,"

you nodded, letting him venture down the hallway and into your bedroom. he made quick work with his actions, gathering candles from your bedroom before placing them on the bathroom counter and lighting them. he started the faucet for the bath, making it the temperature he knew you liked before adding some of your body wash to the water.

once it was set up to his liking, he made his way back to the living room and you were still invested in the project on your laptop. he stood in front of you. gently closing the lid, which made you stop reading as you let out a soft sigh of defeat. there was no getting around it with him.

"c'mon," he smiled softly, reaching out and offering his hand for you to take. you placed your hand in his, rising from the couch as he led you down the hallway and to your bedroom.

"what're you up to?"

"nothing in particular," he smiled, and when you saw the bathroom you immediately almost broke down into tears. the candles dimly lit the room and a bath was drawn.

"lando," you gasped softly, his thoughtfulness making your heart flutter against your chest and reminding you why you fell in love with him in the first place.

he smiled, "you relax, i'll order us some food. how's that sound?"

you nodded as wrapped your arms around his neck, "have i ever told you how much i love you?"

he smiled, "once or twice, i can't quite put my finger on it though."

you laughed softly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, "i love you."

"i love you more," he smiled.

you nodded in the direction of the tub, "how about you join me and then we order dinner?"

"i like the way you think."

[echantedtoon]

Kinda like my last post but more poly. Auish so barely anything's cannon. Kimetsu Gauken based. Artwork not mine both found on Pinterest. Will probably contain some headcannons from my Kagamane x Reader headcannons post too.

-How did you catch the attention of these two couples? You literally had no idea.

-You only knew that you were Muzan's secretary before he hired Kokushibo to take over your job as he was 'better suited.' But unbeknownst to you, that was a way to just get closer to you by Muzan and his wife.

-You've been working for the couple for over two years having been hired by Two to help the both of them manage their companies. Muzan wasn't happy about his wife hiring someone without his say so but relented the because his wife was happy with you.

-You did a very good job honestly. Papers were always perfectly filed, and you were very organized and clean. You kept up with his own and Rei's Business deals separated unless needed to be combined. He couldn't remember how many times the last secretary mixed up their appointments and costed them time and money. You were also on time all the time everyday and had materials at the ready for whatever he needed.

-Rei was quite satisfied with your performance as well and he liked knowing his wife was happy so he didn't care about her inviting you to have small lunch breaks with her and their daughter.

-Their daughter was quite taken by you as well. Smiling and talking about how nice you were and how you had help her learn how to spell a big learn that won her spelling bee at school.

-Rei quite agreed you were quite a charming lady and she wouldn't mind having you around more often. He agrees.

-While you're professional and perficiant in what you do and your bubbly kind and positive personality added a bit of fresh air into the office and at the same time you weren't overly positive for him to find you annoying. If fact he quite looked forward to the way you treated him every morning with your bright smile and a cup of his favorite coffee. How you and Rei smile like old friends and get along so well. How his daughter is always excitedly bouncing around and showing off what cool new facts she learnt 'from the nice office lady'!

-Its inevitable they would find someone as cute as you unable to resist for long. It's not surprisingly Rei that brings up the subject first while at breakfast and he's reading a newspaper. "Dear, Y/n was so kind to teach our little darling how to easily spell arithmetic the other day." "Mmhm. Very nice." "You know I don't think we're really giving her a position she deserves. You've always said that I could use a personal assistant for my work." "Darling, you just read my mind."

-You are shocked when the happy couple announced that you were fired from your secretary job but they were moving you to be Rei's personal assistant. You gingerly try to reject the offer but they insist having already replaced you with Kokushibo who turns out if far more efficient.

-So begins your very awkward new job as Rei's personal assistant. Some of it isn't too different from your old job minus following her around during the day. You still file paperwork for her and handle calls if she's busy, but now you also did things for her such as getting her awkwardly massive food orders-

"I have your double shrimp salad bowls."

"Oh thank you. But I must've gotten too much. You eat the other one you've been working so hard and deserve some food."

And going shopping with her as she gifts you extra items she ..accidentally buys an item she didn't want.

"I have all your bags, Ma'am."

"Thank you. But it seems I accidentally bought the purple heels instead of black."

"Shall I call the store and request a refund for the shoes?"

"No need. You can keep them. They're your size anyways."

-You also start to help out Rei's husband by rearranging furniture in his office as he works and gauges your help in certain things.

"I want you to take this."

".... It's an address and..IS THIS THREE THOUSED DOLLARS?!"

"Yes. I'm thinking about buying a share at this new retreat but unfortunately I'm far too busy to go myself. Go check yourself in for a week and report back to me anything wrong with the place."

Even when you go, granted having a good time, and comeback with your positive feedback you don't see any shares listed for the retreat in the financial database. But he does use your help in other situations too-

"Is this a dinner reservation?"

"Yes. I'm interested in hosting a business dinner together with some investors next week. Go to the reservation and see if their food is up to my standards."

You are concerned when he sees no investors the next week.

-You start to get very awkward when Rei requests you start doing more personal things. Like tutoring their daughter and picking her up from school and playing with her when they're busy. And staying to have dinner with them multiple times a week even if you decline.

-You unexpectedly get a raise despite doing less work than your last position.

-You get invited on outings together to help watch their daughter but for some reason there's always a place set aside for you or the reservations always included a fourth person.

-You get random gifts with excuses-

"My daughter thinks it's your birthday and she'll be upset if I didn't at least gift you some flowers."

"Here. I never used this dress anyways and they got my size wrong."

"My wife misplaced her necklace so I ordered a new one for her. She just found the old one today so you may keep the extra."

-One day you pick up their daughter from elementary school and she's just happily chatting away in the back seat.

"I can't wait for Mother's Day. I'm gonna make you and Mommy the best cards ever!"

"Aw. You don't have to do that. I'm not even your mom."

"Not yet! You have to marry them first and I'm gonna be the flower girl!!"

"Haha! I'm not marrying your mommy and daddy."

"Huh? You're not?"

"Of course not. What made you think that?"

"Because Daddy says I can be the flower girl! Mommy even picked out matching dresses for all three of us in that fancy magazine!"

-Both are a mixed reaction when they receive your professional company email that very night explaining that the hours were starting to get bad for you so you were putting in your two weeks and using all your company vacation days for that entire week so they didn't have to trouble you for a final paycheck.

-Rei is absolutely shocked and very, very confused. Why did you suddenly quit? If the hours were getting to bad then they'd be happy to talk with you about it and rearrange things.

Muzan is pissed. How dare you just quit on such short notice?! After everything they did?! You didn't even have mind to tell them in person!

Both try calling you but get nothing but voicemail, their emails go unanswered as well. Their daughter is very upset. Why did you leave? Weren't you going to marry them?

-Unbeknownst to the couple you use the extra money from your sudden raise to move away to a new residence. Blocking both on your old email and phone before completely getting a brand new email address and number and being sure to block them again on those too before gathering up all the unwanted gifts up to mail them back being sure to include no return address.

-After laying low for about a month you decide to go back out to job hunt. Eventually finding a secretary position open at a local school after the old secretary retired! Perfect! You end up calling the number listed for the principal and she's nice enough to arrange an interview for you with her husband, the Chairman of Kimetsu Academy.

-The interview actually goes very well! Mr. Kagaya Ubuyashiki is a very kind man and his wife is also very kind and both of them were impressed with your resume. You got the job the day!

-You're a little out of your territory being in a a school setting but slowly things start turning. You start to really enjoy your job at the Academy. You've already made friends with a few teachers like Kyojuro and Gyomei.

-Students start to like coming to the office more because of how bubbly and friendly the new secretary is. The teachers start to talk to you more often and invite you to staff parties and outside work events. Events that you were free to DECLINE and no one was giving you an uncomfortable feeling.

-Was working your old job really that stressful? You couldn't remember the last time you actually felt appreciated or just had someone treat you normally.

-Kagaya thinks it's amusing watching you shyly peek into the doorway to his office with papers clutched into your hands and bashfully asking if you could come in. The way you so innocently look unsure of something or squeak out a question. It's adorable seeing your attempts.

Amane finds your sweet and bubbly personality is perfect for the job! Especially when she sees how much you love interacting with the students and always friendly towards her own children. When you shyly ask her for help with scheduling or ask where a certain file is, always puts a smile on her face.

-Speaking of the Ubuyashiki children, you adore the quintuplets! And don't mind watching them in the office for a little bit if Kagaya or Amane was running a little late or had to do last minute work. Because they always asked you if you'd be alright with it first and didn't expect you to do anything outside your job.

-Somewhere along the way they ask you politely if you'd like to have dinner with them without any expectations for you saying yes and you agree wholeheartedly. Making it a weekly thing where you all would all have dinner together Sunday night.

-Muzan and Rei really don't know where you went for the longest time until he just happens to mention you in front of Nakime who recognizes you instantly and reveals it to him.

-Muzan is absolutely RAGED to find out not only are you working for his cousin but seemed to be dating his cousin and his wife!! Rei has to hold him back and tell him to not do anything dumb before he goes to do anything actually dumb like storm into the academy and yell at everyone.

-Instead he furiously calls his cousin and DEMANDS to know what the hell he thought he was doing!! And DEMANDS to let him talk to you THAT INSTANT!!

"Oh yes. You're the really weird bosses she was talking about. How's your dating life going?"

"YOU FUCKER!! IF YOU DON'T DO AS I SAY I SWEAR YOU'LL PAY FOR IT ONE WAY OR ANOTHER!!"

"How do you both manage to get married but still pull no bitches combined?"

"YOU MOTHERFU-"

Rei later scolds him for cussing in front of their daughter at her cousins and for chucking his phone off their second story balcony.

-She tries to later apologize for his tantrums via calling Amane who firmly states that they were not to go near you but much more politely.

-Your're later very surprised to discover that Muzan and Kagaya are actually cousins but it doesn't change your opinion on the Ubuyashikis because of how well they have been treating you.

[astridthevalkyrie]

inspired by rafayel's when light falls memory.

cw: fluff, bratty raf, temporary blindness

When he stumbles into the room, you're on your feet immediately, staring furiously.

"Rafayel."

"Hey, no, you can't be mad." He points in the direction of your voice, and he's slightly off, which only makes you angrier. "If you think about it, this is your fault."

"Rafayel!"

"You sound so pretty when you say my name like that. Say it again?"

It had been on the tip of your tongue, but at his words you swallow the third utterance, merely glaring with a look that would make him shudder if he could see it.

If he didn't, y'know, blind himself again.

"Hmm, does the opposite effect work on you? Let's see. Don't kiss me. Don't get me food because I'm not hungry. Don't take me to bed and lay me down and push my shirt up and ogle me, I'd hate that."

"You're not funny," you snap at him, walking up and snatching his palm. Despite your obvious anger, Rafayel lets out a soft breath of relief at your touch, and doesn't protest a bit as you guide him to sit on the couch. When he'd told you he'd meet you here, you didn't suspect anything. When he said Thomas would be dropping him off, a bead of nervousness had build up inside you. And when Thomas texted you a simple apology text, you'd feared the worst.

He always does this. This is the third time it's happened since you've known him. Each time he cheerily tells you that the doctor has warned him it could be permanent if he keeps being so reckless. And each time, Rafayel ignores that advice completely and stays up another forty-eight hours to paint.

When he's seated, he sighs happily, tugging you close and tucking himself into your chest. "You smell good."

"Shut up. Do you even register how dangerous this is?"

"Mmhm." You see his lips curve into a smile. "Maybe this'll be the time it sticks."

Placing your fingers against his forehead, you push him back and he whines, slouching with a pout on his face. You don't dignify his hypothetical with an answer, stomping away—loud enough that he can hear your displeasure—to take a wrapped sandwich from the picnic basket you'd brought over.

Rafayel's brows furrow when you drop it in his hands, and he has to fiddle a bit before he can take the foil off. Cautiously, he takes a bite, knowing better than to ask you before eating if you're trying to poison him or not (your answer will always be a deadpan yes), and moans a little when the flavor hits.

"This is so good. Did you make this?"

You sit down a foot away from him, crossing one leg over the other and staring stoically at the wall in front of you. "I did. For a date."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his eyes widen, as though he's finally realizing how much trouble he's in. Abandoning the sandwich on the couch, he extends his hand out for you, finding your face first before he wraps his hand around your arm.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. You put all this effort in and I—"

"Completely ruined our plans by showing up without your eyesight? Yes. You did."

"I'm sorry," he says again, pulling at you a little. You acquiesce, if only because the sight of him reaching for you makes you feel slightly bad. He pulls you into his chest this time, hiding his face in your hair as he murmur out apologies.

That's the thing with Rafayel. He can tease and poke and prod all he wants, but the second he actually feels something, he makes it blatantly clear. The guilt is practically dripping off him in waves.

"I'm not mad." You hold both his hands in yours, kissing his knuckles like they're precious—because to you, they are. "At least, not about the date. I am mad that you keep doing this to yourself even though it's bad for you."

His hands squeeze yours, and his blank eyes fill with an emotion you're not even sure he realizes he's expressing. "I told you, s'your fault. I was up three nights in a row working on something you inspired."

"Right." Shifting so that you can kiss the top of his head, you mumble, "So what I'm hearing is I should break up with you and then you'll be absolutely fine."

For a few seconds, Rafayel doesn't say anything, and you become concerned he thinks you're serious. But then he presses into you more, lips grazing against your collarbone.

"That'd be even worse."

"Oh, really?" You run a hand through his hair. "How so?"

"Heartbreak is amazing for creativity. I wouldn't sleep for weeks. Even after my eyesight was gone, I'd just keep paining...and painting...and painting..."

"Okay, okay, I get it." Kicking your feet out, you lay down, pulling him down on top of you. Rafayel sighs, one arm sliding around you as he tucks his face into your neck.

"You really do smell good."

"Please stop doing this to yourself. I'm genuinely asking you, Raf, I'm begging you to just let the inspiration stew—call me if you can't settle and I'll help. But stop it with these all nighters."

His fingers find yours, and he holds your hand against his chest tightly. "Okay," he whispers, "okay."

You don't push it further. If he's agreed, then he'll stick to his word, you know that. You'd feel guilty, at how much he bends to your every request despite the complaints, but it's not like you're trying to get him to buy you a diamond ring (and Rafayel would, should you so much as glance at one). You're making him promise for his own benefit.

"Even if I did lose my eyesight, I'd still remember how you look, y'know." He brushes his lips against a nearly faded hickey on your neck, pressing a soft kiss there. It's incredibly impressive that even without seeing, he knows exactly where his marks on you are. "Wouldn't stop calling you beautiful—promise."

A gentle hum escapes you. "I know. Believe it or not, my ego isn't what I'm worried about."

He laughs quietly, reaching down to kiss your chest before pressing closer to you, listening to your heartbeat with his eyes closed. "Yeah, you're worried about me. That's so embarrassing, you have a crush on me?"

"I'm in love with you," you respond, and predictably, his ears turn scarlet at your open words and he groans, fingers clutching your shirt as he wallows. "Don't dish out what you can't take, honey."

"You're so mean," Rafayel whispers, "stay with me?"

What a pain in the ass. But he's your pain in the ass, and you wouldn't have it any other way. "M'not going anywhere."

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"james taylor" - aaron hotchner x fem!reader

based on lumi's request here! you make soup on a cool autumn day with aaron c:

cw: nauseating fluff inspired by observing my parents' disgustingly adorable relationship, preestablished relationship, mentions of food

650 words

Fall always settles over Washington, D.C. like a blanket. The leaves all seem to turn at once, and the air has this fresh, crispy quality to it that’s almost addicting. Autumn is the best time of the year - all the colors, the layered clothes, the food. You’ve been craving a good, warm soup since August, but it’s been too hot out to enjoy it. 

But today is perfect. You have the windows of Aaron’s apartment cracked open, allowing the cool breeze to float like fairies through your home, ruffling the pages of the paperback on the coffee table and shuffling the curtains in a lazy dance. 

“Smells good, honey,” Aaron says, as you stand dutifully in front of the stove, wading your wooden spoon through the soup you’ve been working on since you arrived home from work about an hour ago. “New recipe?”

The gilded sunset peeks in through the blinds on this Friday evening.. It’s not fair that the sun sets so soon this time of year, and that you have to be at work when the world is so beautiful. But standing here, in the tiny kitchen of his apartment, with the autumn breeze whistling through the window above the sink, makes all of that a little better. 

“Yeah, thought I’d try my hand at a roux again,” you say as Aaron’s hands find your hips from behind. You have the Bluetooth speaker playing your favorite 70s hits, and a Jackson 5 song creates a jaunty backdrop for an otherwise very docile evening. 

You’re stirring the cheese in now, the last step after your roux, vegetables, seasonings, and broth have all melded together. The soup smells good - nutty, earthy, and creamy, and you’re excited to try it. Last time you made a roux, you didn’t get all the flour lumps out and you had to throw it out. This time, you’re hoping for some improvement. 

Aaron’s chin soon meets the dip between your neck and your shoulder, and you close your eyes for one peaceful breath, still stirring the spoon as if you’re on autopilot. “Thank you for making dinner, sweetheart,” Aaron’s voice is melted after a long day at work. Hearing him speak like this equates to watching ribbons of cake batter fall into a pan or a smooth, strong whiskey burning your throat in a pleasurable pain as you swallow it. 

His voice is rich and soothing and you only ever get to hear it like this when he’s that perfectly concocted combination of tired and content. He’s always tired, but content is a difficult state for him to achieve. 

“You’re welcome,” you coo, breaking out of the comfortable straitjacket that was Aaron Hotchner’s arms so you can grab your pot holders and move the dutch oven off the burner. “I think it’s ready now, too,” you add, turning around to finally face him. 

Aaron’s smiling at you with this thin line on his face, corners of his mouth upticked just slightly. He grabs your sweatshirt by the pocket and draws you closer, winding one arm around your waist just as the song changes to James Taylor. He’s never been a particularly good dancer, but he can do this just fine - swaying in the kitchen with the autumn breeze tickling the back of your neck. 

“Aren’t you hungry, Aaron?” You ask as you look up at him, cupping his face as you dance, making no move to stop swaying with him, even brushing your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. “Soup’ll get cold.” 

“I happen to love cold soup,” Aaron cracks a smirk as you wind your arms around his neck.  

You balk at this playfully. “Is that so?” 

“Mmhm,” Aaron hums as you lay your head against his chest. His lips brush over the top of your hair and you think you understand what James Taylor means when he says that love’s the finest thing around.

[httpzsho]

THE MELTING WALLS | 리키

PAIRINGS. grumpy!riki x sunshine!reader

GENRE. fluff

WARNINGS. none

SYNOPSIS. after riki recovers from his illness, and finishing your project— you expect for him to end all contacts, but to your surprise, maybe you two are more than just project partners.

SHO's NOTE. this is pt3 and the last part of beneath the ice (or part 2 of lovesick) + also I mixed this fic with the request, the one w the fluttershy coded reader!

( read below the cut )

HE LAYS THERE FOR A FEW MINUTES, admiring looking at your sleeping figure. he gets up and off the bed very precisely, in order not to wake you up. he debated on whether to carry you to the bed, but he didn't know if you were a light sleeper or not. he really didn't want to wake you. instead, he grabbed the blanket and placed it gently on you.

he went downstairs, cooking breakfast in his own little world as a way to repay you for taking care of him. flipping the pancakes nicely and set them onto plates with a slice of butter.

he heard the faint footsteps on the stairs as he cooked.

“you slept well?” he asked, you hummed behind him. “how're you feeling?” you replied, still groggy from your sleep. your voice still raspy as you rubbed your eyes.

“mmhm.” you leaned against the counter as he cooked, staring a little too long in his figure with an apron.

“didn't know you cooked,”

“you didn't ask.”

you giggled. he did too. it was.. cute. “you should laugh more often, brings out the life in you.” you mumbled. “what, you think I'm soulless like the others?”

there was a moment of silence. you thought you offended him. “no, ofcourse I don't..” you sighed, “..I don't think you're any of the name they call you,” you mean it. you really do, you just hope he knows that.

he didn't reply. he finished cooking the rest of the pancakes and gestured for you to eat. “thanks for taking care of me.” you looked up at him. he was chewing the food as you did. “no problem,”

even before, you always thought riki already had face. his features were delicate, the moles on his face only adding more appeal. you wondered why he wasn't the talk of the girls.

today was just like 'em, his face purer and even more appealing now bare in front of you.

“is there something on my face?” he questioned, you snapped back and shook your head. “oh, nothing! sorry. the pancakes just taste good,” he acknowledged your compliment, mumbling a quiet thanks.

what the hell was that? you thought to yourself, how'd you zone out? most importantly, how'd you zone out because of him?

later after breakfast, you bid your goodbyes to him and went off to your own apartment.

you opened the door, greeted with your beloved cat. sushi. you pet her fur as she rubs against you, you smile.

you then changed into your comfortable clothes, and relax.

ding—!

RIKI : hey?

CHEOL Y/N : oh, hi riki! what's up? (∩_∩)

RIKI : I'm sorry for missing our working-project day. come to your door.

confused, you walk downstairs to open your door, to you surprise, you see a box filled with food, specifically your favorite—samyang.

CHEOL Y/N : you sent me these? (っ◞‸◟ c)

RIKI : mhm. take it as my apology.

CHEOL Y/N : wait. . . you're warming up to me? rikiii.. (╥﹏╥)

RIKI : don't flatter yourself, it's only because I feel bad and you took care of me.

CHEOL Y/N : if you say so .. (¬◡¬)✧

[ CHEOL Y/N set RIKI's nickname to “ki” ]

riki scoffed, laying down in his bed. “ki”? he thought it was cute weird.

a few weeks had passed, you and riki met from time to time working on your project, and finally after a few days, you passed it.

nervously waiting for an update from your professor.

the class stirred quietly, all occupied on their own things.

“surprisingly, the unexpected duo got the highest grade for your final project,” your teacher announced infront. there's no way that could've been you & riki.

“congratulations, nishimura & cheol for getting a 100 on your project. well done.” your teacher applauded, and you exchanged glance with riki, you smiled, both with surprise & satisfaction.

he smiled back.

oh—that struck you like a lightning. the way his eyes slowly turned tiny, his lips curling into a small grin— everything about his smile made your heart beat faster.

was he this handsome before?

the class ended a few hours later. you went to stroll around campus, but was surprised by a tap on the shoulder.

“hey..” you turned around, seeing riki with a bag slung lazily over his shoulder. “uhm, we did well on the project.. do you want to eat out somewhere?”

you blinked. are you hearing this right? riki? asking you to hangout?

“wait—you're asking me to hang with you? seriously?” you questioned, tilting your head to the side. “well—it's just to celebrate our grade.. but if you want to call it that, then I guess..” his voice trailed off.

“yes, ofcourse! it's our work after all.” you grinned. and he walked, you following behind him. he toom you to a small cafe. he gestured for you to order something.

“one matcha strawberry latte & pistachio croissant please,” you ordered, he told his order right after yours. “and just a cold brew and a plain waffle.” you giggled a little. “a coffee? at this hour?” he chuckled. “hey, no judging.” his tone was low and quiet, but the humour was present. you smiled.

you both sat down on the chair near the windows, the sun lighting your face just right. you sipped on your latte, completely oblivious to his eyes observing you. you took a bite of the croissant, your eyes lighting up immedietly. “mm! it's so yummy,” you lick the pistachio cream that was smudged on your lip. “you want to try?” you handed out the croissant, waiting for him to bite. he gently bit a small part of the croissant. “it's good,”

you smiled. continuing to munch on it. you missed the way he smiled & giggles as you did.

the hangouts didn't stop there. one after the other the meetups got more recent, from “why not” hangouts to “just because“. you didn't even realise that you two were more than project partners.

one thing didn't change, the way his voice was always calm when talking to you, he barely showed his giggles or grin, but one things for certain— the walls he built around himself to keep him alone, was slowly melting because of you.

and maybe the rays of your presence was more than enough to melt the ice surrounding his heart, and you know beneath the ice— he's more than just a soulless, cold, mean jerk.

⩩. ( @stvrriki @nishikio @rikiscupid @callikari )

© work of httpzsho | sho

[eveningspringbreeze]

A First Step, Towards Friendship

Season: Spring (ES!! second year)

Characters: Kohaku, Hiiro, Madara

Hiiro and Kohaku: Nom nom….

Hiiro: Ah, I accidentally got some on the table. Could you get a wipe, Kohaku-san?

Kohaku: ‘Course, here ya go. Ya gotta open yer mouth big an’ wide so that ya don't spill crumbs. 

Hiiro: Thank you, I’ll take note of that! 

Kohaku: (...He looks ‘bout as normal a boy as they come when he’s eatin’ breakfast, huh)

(The Hiiro-han I saw durin’ Matrix astonished me so much that I can’t help but incessantly worry away just from bein’ near him) 

(He disciplines in a way that dredges up memories of my sisters… or particularly, the way he made us prepare for all kinds o’ things) 

(He dived headfirst into playin’ villain just so Crazy:B could secure the first win)

(There sure were lotsa things happenin’ in the Amagi village, but by far my biggest shocker would be…) 

Hiiro: Umu. Today’s bread was baked wonderfully. It was so delicious. Maybe I should get seconds? 

Kohaku: (whispering) With that face, he follows every rule to an absolute. He forces everyone to follow them with him, an’ any opposition turns him into a terrifyin’ lad)

(Like say, were there to be a rule that determined that all breakfasts shall be bread, what would Hiiro-han do?) 

(Would he even go as far as to tell me, who’s currently eatin’ rice, to have bread instead?) 

Phew. I got so caught up with these stupid ideas that simply eatin’ breakfast took far too long. 

???: I’m hooooome!!!! ☆ I’m so thirsty after running! 

Kohaku: Mm… no doubt, that’s Madara-han’s voice. G’mornin’. 

Madara: Ohh, if it isn’t Kohaku-san! Goooood morniiiiing! ☆

Kohaku: Yer always so damn loud. 

Anyhow, there’s somethin’ I wanted to ask… 

Would ya rather have rice or bread for breakfast? 

Madara: …Hmm? That’s quite the unexpected question. 

Have you been wondering about what food I like? I’m so happy to hear that ♪

Kohaku: Ah, no, this ain’t the type o’ question that should be thrillin’ ya. Not like I’ll die without yer answer anyhow. 

Madara: Now now, don't be shy and say it with your chest! "I'm dyin' to make breakfast for Madara-han", right? ♪

Kohaku: Who’s sayin’ what? And the same goes to you. Rather than "accidentally" pullin’ it outta me, can'tcha just ask directly? Y'know, "Why is Kohaku-san asking me something like this, hmm?"

Anyhow, I’ll explain… I was eatin’ with Hiiro-han just now. 

So we were in the Matrix project, where this an’ that happened… Now, I’ve got this slightly odd relationship with Hiiro-han. 

Madara: Mmhm. I see, I get the situation now. 

Oh, to think that Kohaku-san would consult me for relationship advice ♪

Mama’s delighted! Moved beyond words! So happy, in fact, that I feel inclined to ruffle Kohaku-san’s head ☆

Kohaku: Uwaah!? Stop! 

Actually, what’s with this weirdass attitude? Are ya makin’ fun of me, ya jerk? 

Madara: Hahaha, who’s to say? 

Anyway. Personally, I’d say that becoming friends with Hiiro-san could alleviate much of your worries, Kohaku-san. 

Kohaku: Friends? 

Madara: Yep. For example… if Hiiro-san were to invite you to a meal, you wouldn’t turn him down, right? 

Kohaku: Well, I ‘spose so. We were eatin’ together earlier too. 

Madara: Then, let’s extend it from within the Starmony dorms to ES as a whole. What would you do if he asked you to go shopping with him? Turn him down? 

Kohaku: Maybe if I had other plans… ‘sides that, I don’t see a reason to not go. 

Madara: Yep. So basically, you two are already on pretty decent terms. 

But what would you consider Hiiro-san to be to you? 

Is he an acquaintance from a different unit? Or perhaps someone close to a good friend of yours? …Try taking a step back to reevaluate. 

Kohaku: That’s true. Who knows whether or not Rabu-han an’ I have the same thoughts on this person. 

Madara: I’m also assuming that, since whatever happened during Matrix, your thoughts on him have complicated since. 

You two may be on relatively good terms, but with your perspective, it seems you can’t quite put a good name to your relationship. 

And that’s exactly why if you were able to get to a point where you could start calling him a “friend”, you could reforge your relationship with him entirely. 

Kohaku: Woah… I’d never expected you to give such sound advice. 

Madara: ….That’s odd. I’m supposed to be your older senpai with plenty of life experience under my belt, no?

Kohaku: My bad. I just didn’t expect the friendless Madara-han to be the one advisin’ me on makin’ friends. 

Madara: Hrm… what was that about me making fun of you earlier? 

Kohaku: Ahaha! ‘Course, I think I can do this with yer idea. Thank ya kindly ♪

Now, I’ll call Hiiro-han right away—

Hiiro: This… is a store selling idol merchandise, yes? 

Did you want to come to this store with me, Kohaku-san? 

Kohaku: It must’ve been a doozy to be called an’ brought here so suddenly, sorry ‘bout that. 

I was just glad to have gotten in touch with ya… but the only spot I can think for bringin’ “friends” is this idol goods store. (2)

Hiiro: “Friends”? 

Kohaku: Mmhm. I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout wantin’ to be such with ya, Hiiro-han. 

I thought of talkin’ it out with fists too, since I reckon that a playfight could bring us closer. 

Hiiro: With fists? Playfight? 

Kohaku: Ah, I’m just talkin’ to myself. Don’t worry ‘bout that. 

…So far, I believe you and I’ve been toddlin’ along on just “being on decent terms”. 

What do you think ‘bout callin’ each other “friends” from now on? 

We’ve even worked together as one unit before, so how ‘bout we continue workin' together? 

I’d never really tried to make friends before, so I may slip an’ say weird things from time to time. If that’s okay with you…. how about it? 

Hiiro: ….Umu! I’d love to, Kohaku-san! 

Kohaku: Really? 

Hiiro: Of course ♪ You’re a close friend of Aira’s, so I assumed that the two of us were already friends. 

But now that I think about it, I never did walk up to you and go, “let’s be friends!”, did I? 

From now on, as newfound friends… I’ll be in your care, Kohaku-san ♪

Kohaku: Ahaha, shakin’ hands as proof of our friendship, huh. What a nice feelin’ ♪

I planned on the two of us just goin’ shopping as friends, but I’d like ta hear more ‘bout ya, Hiiro-han. 

Do you have any other friends, like Hinata-han? What hobbies do you have, and what do ya usually talk about? Can ya tell me?

Hiiro: Of course! Let’s shop and chat away! 

Kohaku: Thanks, Hiiro-han. As friends, from now on… I’ll be in yer care ♪

—--------------------

Translation Notes

Callback to Aira's FS1 4* story, "Novices in Friendship", where Aira brings Kohaku to presumably the exact same merch store. 

Thank you for reading! This is not proofread at the moment, but this was such a cute story that I had to translate it!! ^^ 

[peachglazewrites]

𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 ⸙ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: abby anderson x f!reader 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒���𝚐𝚜: suggestive content, vague medical procedures, nightmares, PTSD 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: fluff, making out, angst, angst x2, literal sleeping together, Owen is a good partner, reader is a good friend 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘: no use of y/n or any reader descriptions 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 10.8k

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: The one where you do some shopping, Abby has another nightmare, and you have dinner with Mel.

a big huge thank you and shout out to @l-zhk for all the beautiful photomodes of the stadium you've been posting! so much of the worldbuilding is thanks to you ♡ i would be so lost without them and you!!!! 🫶

a/n: hey!! a brief note that christmas is mentioned, and will continue to be mentioned, but i have written for reader to not celebrate it. you can make up any kind of reasoning for this, but my goal was to not discriminate against those who don't observe christmas <3

gifts will still be exchanged around the ‘holiday period’, but i think i made it clear that this is really mel's excuse to give all her friends gifts lmao

thanks!

̗̀➛ masterpost

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ link to fic on ao3 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙸: XIV

“You’re sure no one can see us from up here—” Abby’s words cut off with a sharp gasp, the large hands on your hips squeezing a bit tighter.

“Mmhm,” you hum against her jaw, trailing soft kisses back up to her lips. “Promise. Used to come here all the time.”

Your lips lock with her own, hands playing with the curls of hair along the nape of her neck that have slipped from her braid. Her lips are rough against yours, chapped and bitten, and you can’t supress the shiver it sends down your spine.

The two of you are up in the bleachers, nestled away in your favourite spot. Well, second favourite. This one is just off from your usual lunch spot, all the way at the very top and in the corner, completely hidden by the WLF banner hanging from the railing above. It’s dark, especially on a rainy day like today, covered by shadow on the balcony. It’s perfect at hiding the way you’re perched on her lap, her hands kneading along the fat of your hips, kissing like a couple of teenagers.

You’d come up here to have lunch, having snuck away from the noise of the caf during your hour-long break. It was peaceful, eating your food to the ambient sounds of the stadium, watching the rain fall heavy on the ground below. It was just what you needed.

It’d been going on three days since Abby had left for assignment, and you were beginning to feel it. The two of you had gone lengths of time longer than this without seeing each other, but that was before you knew that Abby loved you, and so your anxiety around the whole thing has gotten a little bit worse.

You trusted her to take care of herself, trusted her strength and her skills to bring her home to you— but things happen. You know that firsthand.

You’d been tempted to go talk to someone on comms, see if they had any word on the status of her unit, but ultimately decided against it. She was fine. You were going to be fine.

You were just about done with your food when you heard the heavy footfall of boots on the concrete steps. Your eyes met cool blue ones when you looked up, Abby drinking in the sight of you as she climbed the last few steps towards you.

She was home, and by the look of it—wrinkled clothes spattered with heavy drops of rain, muddy boots and pant legs, the butterfly bandage on her forehead—she’d come to see you as soon as she could.

“Bring many girls up here?” She asks teasingly, lips dragging over your own as she pulls back, eyebrow cocked.

Heat creeps up your neck as you stumble over your words, caught off guard by her question. “I—I mean, a few.”

“Huh. Here I thought I was special,” she sighs, just a little bit dramatically, casting her gaze off to the side.

You huff, bringing a hand up to her cheek to guide her face back to yours, pinching the skin between your fingers. “You are special, idiot.” You let go, patting her cheek gently. “I love you, funnily enough.”

Abby’s lips twitch, curling up at the edges. “Yeah? More than…” The look on her face is expectant, waiting for you to fill in the blank.

“Any of them.”

“Not gonna give me any names?” She pulls you closer, shifting you on her lap. “And don’t say Isabella, because I think everyone knows about that one.”

You groan, slumping forward to bump your forehead onto her shoulder. Her shirt is still damp from the rain, the lingering scent of her cologne hidden underneath the smell of wet earth and gunpowder.

“Katie.”

She’s silent for a moment, flipping through her mental rolodex for every single Katie, Kate, and Katherine she knows. “Katie… Katie from Laundry?”

You nod, just the once. “It lasted like, two days before she said she felt like I was taking things ‘too seriously’, then she and Melissa made it official a week later.”

Abby laughs, a lovely rumbling sound that has you clinging onto her just a bit tighter. “Oh my god. Is that why you do your own washing?”

“No,” you say, far too quickly. “… I mean at first—”

That sends her laughing once more as she wraps her arms around your back, holding you flush against her chest. You squirm in her grip, pulling back to look down at her, unamused. “Are you having fun laughing at my girl problems?”

Her laughter dies down into a warm chuckle as she presses in to nose along your cheek, the sound vibrating against the skin. “Thanks to your girl problems, I have you sitting all pretty in my lap right now. I think I can find them a little bit funny.”

Her warm breath puffs across your skin, sending another wave of shivers rolling down your back. “Yeah?” You ask, a little breathless.

“Mmhm,” she hums, placing a kiss to the heated skin of your cheek. She trails them down across your face, eyes briefly catching yours before finally kissing you properly.

You’ve missed her. Badly. Missed the feeling of her lips on yours, the way her hands always seem to find their way home on your hips. You’ve missed how she melts under you, how quickly she can go from teasing and ribbing to soft and gentle.  

Under normal circumstances, you’re certain you’d have more self-control than you do in this moment-- but having Abby leave you just two days after your whispered confessions on the couch has made you just a bit more needy for her attention than usual.

So, you keep kissing her, and she keeps kissing you, arms tangled around each other, your thighs on either side of her hips. Your hands slide across the back of her shoulders, trailing down her biceps until you reach her waist. She follows in kind, large hands caressing up and down your sides, along your back. She slides a hand into the back pocket of your pants and keeps it there, giving a playful squeeze that makes you gasp into her mouth. Abby uses this to her advantage, swiping her tongue against yours and grinning at the noise that leaves you.

The kiss deepens a fraction, and you inch your hands up her sides, thumbs just barely brushing the undersides of her breasts. Her soft grunt pulls you through the other side of the lust ridden fog clouding your mind, and you reluctantly pull away. You’re both left panting into each other’s mouths, lips grazing as you catch your breath.

You blink at her, watching her pupils shift as she looks up from your swollen lips. You just know that you have the same look in your eyes that you find in Abby’s-- slightly hooded, dark, a little bit desperate. You swallow thickly, removing your hands from her torso to place them on her shoulders, giving them an awkward pat.

“Okay,” you breathe, clearing your throat. “Alright. This—Let’s put a pin in this.”

Abby snorts, a lazy smile curling her lips. “You don’t wanna stay up here with me?” She whispers as she leans back in, capturing your lips once more.

You hum, almost a moan, and let yourself melt into her, though you pull away before she can make it too deep. “You know I want to. But I have work, and you need to rest.”

She sighs, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek. “Okay.”

“Good.” You chuckle softly, pulling back to look at her. Your eyes roam her face, and you bring a hand up to gently brush against her forehead, just under the butterfly bandage. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

Abby reaches up for your hand, pulling it away from her forehead and clasping it in her own. “Positive.” She draws your hand to her lips, kissing along your knuckles. “I love you.”

Your heart beats wildly in your chest, face flushing at those three simple words. You grin, turning your hand over so you can press your own kiss to the back of her hand in return.

“I love you, too.”

⸙

“You’ll want to avoid getting the area wet for a couple of days, so maybe stick to sponge baths for a bit until you get the all clear from us.” You look up at the girl on the cot, smiling softly as you scribble your signature on the bottom of the document. She’s no more than sixteen, face still round with baby fat.

She grimaces, a pout coming to her lips as she inspects her arm, a piece of gauze covering the long line of sutures clipped neatly along her forearm. “What if I just… stick my arm out of the shower the whole time?”

You can’t help the laugh that leaves you, eyes softening at the small break in her sour expression. “Trust me, that never works. You’ll realise your mistake halfway through washing your hair and then it’ll be a soggy trip back up here.” You tear off a slip from the bottom of the page, clipping it to the top of the chart and tucking your pen in your pocket. “I’ll grab you some pain meds and then you’ll be good to go.”

She sighs and lets herself fall back onto the cot as you head into the back room, rummaging around to grab what you need from the medicine cabinets, portioning out some of the medication in a small bottle for her to take home. You write all of her patient information on a small slip, using the underside to write out the medication directions. You tape it just along the top to the front of the bottle, and bring it back into the main room.

She barely listens to the usual spiel, how many pills she can take and when. She’s too keen to get out of there, reaching out for the bottle when you hold it between you so that she can leave.

You pull it back at the last second. “You get all that?”

“Take two every four hours.”

“As needed,” you remind her, still keeping the bottle back. “And no more than…?”

“No more than seven a day.”

You sigh. “Eight, but close enough.” You go to pass her the bottle, but pull it back once more. Her big eyes track the movement. “You come back as soon as it starts to feel weird or look funny, okay? Infection is super serious.”

She nods, fingers twitching in her lap. “Yes ma’am.” She reaches out again, but you don’t give in.

“And next time you wanna sneak out, don’t try to climb the walls.” You lower your voice, stage whispering to her conspiratorially, “Making friends with the guard patrol will get you a long way.”

You wink, finally pushing the meds towards her.

She blinks, grins in understanding-- the gap between her bottom two teeth stark against the pink stain from when she had bitten her tongue when she fell-- then takes the bottle from you, shoving it in her pocket. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She hops off the bed, giving you a small salute, clicking her heels together as she’d probably just been trained to, before taking off out of the tent.

“Surely you’re not giving advice on how to sneak out to the newbies.”

You scoff, turning around to face Mel, still bundled up in her coat from outside, a few flecks of snow melting along her shoulders, short hair slick with rain. “Like you can talk,” you tease, moving past her to walk out to the back room. Mel follows, the water-proof fabric of her coat shuffling as she moves. “She’d never listen if I told her to not sneak out. I’d much rather her know how to do it safely than end up here again.”

“That’s true. I was jumping over rooftops sometimes to get out of base.”

“My point exactly,” you laugh, turning to stand just out of the doorway, sweeping your arm to let her in. “After you.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” Mel nods, the two of you giggling as she passes.

The large tote that she carries over her shoulder, a plain canvas that bulges at the sides grabs your attention as she unhooks it from her shoulder. She let’s out small breath, almost of relief as she sets the bag down, rolling her shoulder in its socket now that the weight has been taken off of it.

“The hell is that? Your duffel break or something?”

Mel looks up for a moment, notices your eyes trained on the tote, and shoves the bag into one of the containers she’d pulled from under the counter, using her back to block your sight.

“No peaking. I just finished up the last of my holiday shopping.”

You blink at her, watching her lose half her size as she shrugs off the large coat from her frame. “What’s the date today?”

“The fifteenth, why?” She kicks the tub back under the bench, the arm of her coat flopping over the side.

“Shit—No way are we that far into December already.”

Mel laughs, straightening out her henley and wicking some of the water from her hair. “We literally have a calendar in the room.”

“I know,” you grunt, rubbing at your eyes. “I just got distracted. I was going to be so on top of your gift this year.”

“You don’t have to get me anything,” Mel says, turning back to look at you. “I know you don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“Yeah, but I celebrate ‘Mel’s excuse to give her friends presents’ month.” You wave her off, moving to put the patient file away. “I swore after last year that I was going to get you something like, three months in advance so I don’t have a repeat of last year.”

“I like my mug!”

“Yeah, well somehow a mug that says ‘I have specs appeal’ doesn’t compare to the beautiful blanket you got me. You don’t even wear glasses.”

“Which is what makes the mug so funny.” She leans against the counter, watching you move through the room. “It’s seriously no big deal. I don’t get you things so that you have to get me something in return. I get them because I love you.”

“I know, but I love you too. I might try and head down to the market this afternoon. You want me to pick up dinner on the way back?”

Mel hums in thought, turning away to wash her hands, lathering them in the scentless soap. “I think they’re doing a roast tonight. Grab us some?”

“Done.” You smile, filing the chart away and putting your clipboard under your arm.

You do end up making it down to the market, having a couple of hours before the sun sets and it gets too dark for the stall holders to be able to sell.

Pulling out the crumpled piece of paper in your coat pocket, you squint at the barely legible writing you’d scrawled between the lines, small notes on each person you wanted to buy for that you’d written throughout the day.

It had started with ideas for Mel, things you know she likes or would find useful. You then obviously had to add Abby, because any excuse to buy your girlfriend something nice you’ll take up in a heartbeat. And you guessed that while you’re here, it wouldn’t hurt to look for something for Nora-- you’d been meaning to get her something to say thank you after your evaluation. Manny and Owen have also been really good to you this past year, so something small for them would be nice too…

Soon your scrap of paper was full, and your plan to pop down for half an hour tops had you roaming around for the rest of the afternoon, talking to all of the vendors and rummaging through their wares.

It was nice, taking the time to come down here. You find that a lot of your free time now is taken up with either catching up on sleep or being with Abby, so you don’t roam around as much as you used to. You’re also a lot stronger than you were a few months ago, being able to more confidently handle all the standing and walking around that comes with browsing the market, especially after a whole day at work. It was a good day today, so hopefully your leg will only be a little cramped on the way home.

Switching over to being a medic had also filled your wallet a bit more, bringing home a couple more rations each week than you used to as a soldier.

You were honestly a little bit surprised when you first arrived that the WLF used a rations system, though you were quick to find out that it was entirely different to the one you were used to in the FEDRA run QZs.

Back in Denver, your parents had to work to earn rations so that the three of you could eat. FEDRA was meant to just distribute them amongst the population, an allocated amount per person, per week-- but that quickly went out the window after a few years. Now it was all dependant on what you could provide for the city. You were lucky enough that your parents had a small stash saved in case of an emergency, giving you some time after they died where you didn’t have to worry about working. You stretched them out as much as you could, and by the time they ran out, you decided to leave.

The WLF have two types of rations; actual ration stamps that get allocated to each person every week, and the ‘ration’ tickets you got through employment.

You lived in abundance here on base, and while everyone— regardless of their ability to work or ‘provide for the community’— gets allocated a liveable amount of food, those who do have the means to work get a bonus.

It’s a system that mimics the currency of the old world, and works much better in being considered a form of reward than in the QZs, where people were using their only source of food to trade for literally anything else they might need. The amount you earned each week was job dependant, and gave you a means to indulge.

A lot of the soldiers use theirs to bulk up, eating bigger portions or second helpings outside of their weekly amount. That’s what Abby uses a lot of hers on, as well as buying ingredients to take home to cook more concentrated meals, things much higher in protein than what you can usually get in the cafeteria.

Pretty much everyone else uses them down at the market—a long curving line of stalls in the old train yard that sells everything from homemade shampoo and conditioner to books and electronics.

These stalls are mostly run by those unable to work for one reason or another, usually due to age or ailment, so their extra income comes from what they sell. They put most of their profits back into getting new stock, sending soldiers on patrol off with a list and a band of tickets as payment, but they earn it all back by the next time they set up.

That’s not to say that bartering isn’t alive and well because it very much was, especially in the market. Those who have jobs that take them off base are the ones who barter the most, bringing things down to the market in hopes of a trade. Sometimes you’d even get better deals through bartering than the handover of rations, and it was a quick way to liken yourself to particular merchants.

You spend the rest of the afternoon wandering around the market, collecting bits and pieces and making conversation with all the different merchants; asking about their stock and whether they have the specific things you’re looking for. You end up doing pretty well for yourself, finding a lot of what you had set out to find, and being able to politely request that they keep an eye out for the things you couldn’t get your hands on just yet.

Paying full price had surprisingly been more of a struggle than you had anticipated. Nearly everyone recognised you as one of the medics, some of the stallholders being past patients of yours, or having loved ones you’d treated instead. It was a fight with some of them, trying to hand over the full amount of tickets only to get your hands pushed back towards you, an endless cycle of “No really, I’m sure—” “No, no, I insist—”, until one of you ultimately gave in (it was almost always you).

By the end of the day, when the floodlights around the edges of the stadium turn on with an echoing fwump, you had a bag that felt just as heavy as Mel’s had looked thrown over your shoulder. Everything had been bundled carefully inside, the more delicate items wrapped in scrap pieces of fabric or crumpled newspaper.

You definitely didn’t account for the weight of your bag plus the dinner you had to pick up on your way home when thinking about the strain on your leg by the end of the day, but you found that you didn’t mind the ache when you were feeling so much love and tender care for your friends.

⸙

“Here.”

You barely catch the bundled shirt thrown to you from the steps, the pilled fabric surprisingly soft in your hands. You pinch it at the shoulders, shaking out the tee to look at the design on the front.

“Abs, this is your shirt.”

“And?” Abby asks from a few feet away, holding onto the railing as she leans over, snatching her discarded sweats from the floor, where she’d dropped them over an hour ago.

“I actually brought my own pyjamas this time.”

She looks to you past the strands of hair that have fallen in her face as she bends at the waist, dragging the fabric of her sweats up her naked calves. “And?”

The effect of your eyeroll is dampened by the way your lips twitch up in a fond smile, one that you try to hide by tugging the sleep shirt over your head, the faded print of a sports mascot falling across and covering your bare chest.

It’d been a few days since Abby came home from assignment, and you both finally had a free evening to spend together. It was meant to just be dinner and a movie, knowing that you had an incredibly early shift the next morning and there was going to be no way you’d get a full night’s sleep if you stayed over. But that all went out the window when Abby hooked her chin over your shoulder about halfway through the movie, strong arms wrapped around you from behind as you sat in her lap in the beanbag, pressing her cheek to your own as she asked if you were really sure you couldn’t stay tonight.

She sounded tired—and when you turned to look at her, brushing your fingers along her jaw, you saw that she looked just as exhausted as she sounded. The bags under her eyes were giveaway enough, but it was the look behind them, the dull look of someone who hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep in days that made you agree without a moment’s hesitation.

And you were just going to go to bed. You’d even gone home real quick, grabbing a pack with everything you’d need for the next day, including your own pyjamas. Work has had you on your feet all week, and you were feeling the farthest thing from sexy… but then you were getting ready for bed and got caught staring at Abby’s naked back and that was that.

You let Abby strip you down to your underwear, knowing that the feeling of your skin pressing hot against hers was one of her favourite things in the world, but that’s as far as you went. You wanted to focus on her tonight, to take your time making her fall apart, commit every touch and sound to memory.

And you did. What started as a slow make out and grind in her bed ended with her bent nearly halfway over the stair railing, your chest pressing along her back as you pumped into her from behind.

Abby shuffles over to the bed, sweats slung low along her hips, noticeably shirtless. She gestures for you to scooch over as she lifts the covers, pressing a knee to the mattress as she begins to slide in next to you.

“Where’s your shirt?” You ask, dragging your eyes away from her swollen and love-bitten chest.

She shrugs, reaching over to turn off the lamp with a click. “You’re wearing it.”

“Babe, it’s freezing tonight,” you say, tone laced with your disapproval. “Put a shirt on.”

“Guess you’ll just have to cuddle up to me tonight, then.” Abby shifts onto her side, wrapping her arms around your middle as she slides up next to you. “Keep me warm.”

With a frustrated huff you give in, shuffling yourself to lay down properly next to her. “You don’t have to be shirtless for me to cuddle you. You can just ask for it.”

She hums, pulling you closer to place a kiss to your cheek, hot breath puffing along your skin. “But I like it-- feeling your hands on my back. Shirt just gets in the way.”

“You’re lucky you’re sweet,” you murmur, leaning in to capture her lips.

Abby sighs into the kiss, soft and relaxed, slow compared to the pace from earlier. Arms slip around her body, hands sliding up and across the expanse of her back just like she wanted. She melts against you, the tension evaporating under your hands. Her own rumple your sleep shirt, tugging you closer.

Her lips shift from yours, pressing them to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then slowly up to your forehead. They’re so warm and soft, and you can’t help but nuzzle up against her, trailing your blunt nails lightly over her back.

“I like you like this.”

“Like what?” she murmurs, lips pressing against the bridge of your nose, then down across your other cheek to your jaw.

“This. You get all… smoochy sometimes.”

Abby huffs a sharp breath from her nose, pulling back to look at you. “I’m not—I don’t get smoochy.”

You can’t help the sound that leaves you, the short laugh as you raise your eyebrow. “Yeah? Then what was all that?”

A blush darkens her face, and she winds a hand up to the back of your head to pull you against her neck. “Shut up. Dogs get smoochy—I don’t.”

“Hm,” you hum, pressing your lips to the column of her throat. “You sure were begging like one earlier—hey!” You yelp at a sharp pinch to your ass, squirming as a fit of giggles leaves you, trying to wriggle away from the fingers that dance along your sides. “—Abby!”

Abby rolls the two of you over, throwing a leg over your hip to straddle you. The blanket falls around her hips as she pins you down, halting her assault. “You were saying?”

Your breaths leave you in a light pant as you look up at her, residual giggles still tumbling from your lips. Her eyebrow arches, fingers flexing as she waits for your response.

She’s beautiful, hair falling over her back, strands of it brushing her face. She’s been leaving her hair out more and more around you, and it takes your breath away each time.

“I love you?”

She grunts, giving a roll of her eyes as she slumps forwards, deciding that either that was as good as she was going to get, or she was too tired to fight for something better—or both. She gives you a quick peck before she settles down atop of you, sliding her legs between your own, resting her cheek against the swell of your chest.

“I love you, too.”

Reaching down for the blanket, you pull it back up over yourselves, tucking it gently around her shoulders. Your hands slip underneath to run up and down the length of her back, fingertips brushing along the bumps of her spine, lightly massaging along her muscles. She sighs and buries herself further into your chest, breathes evening out as she relaxes.

“Thank you for dinner,” you say quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“S’all good, honey,” she mumbles, her exhaustion quickly catching up to her. “Thank you for after dinner.”

You can’t help the laugh that leaves you, chest shaking as you try to keep the volume down. Abby grins sleepily against your chest.

“Of course, baby. Anytime.” You press one more kiss to the top of her head, squeezing her gently. “Get some sleep.”

“Okay,” she says, voice muffled against your chest, shifting slightly before melting all the way in.

You lay with her curled on top of you for what feels like an hour, but is mostly likely only a couple of minutes, focusing on the way Abby’s breaths deepen. You’re so sure that she’s asleep, that you barely catch her soft and muffled voice.

“You’ll be here in the morning, right?”

Your hands still on her back for just a moment as you blink into the dark, staring up at the top of the bunk. “Where else would I be?”

She doesn’t say anything, just lays there and breathes. Her reply comes a minute later.

“I don’t know.”

You frown, looking down at her to try and make out her form in the dark. Her lashes that touch the tops of her cheeks, mouth slightly open as her face squishes against your chest.

“I’ll be here. I promise. I’ll be the first thing you see when you wake up.”

A slow breath out, almost in relief. “Good.”

It doesn’t take her long to fall asleep, having tired her out before bed. You spend that time stroking her back, pressing soothing kisses along her scalp. When you’re certain she’s asleep, deep enough that she’s not going to wake up any time soon, you let yourself slowly drift off too.

“Fuck—I can’t… Why…?”

You take a deep breath in as you wake up, head still clouded with sleep, eyes slowly blinking into the dark of the room. It feels like you’ve barely slept, like you were awake only a few seconds earlier.

“—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… fucking— god—"

You’ve shifted in your sleep, back facing the room as you lay on your side. The blanket has shuffled around as you have, and your borrowed shirt is pulled tight along your back, the material bunched in the tight fists of Abby.

Abby who is curled up against your chest, the hot tears that stream down her face soaking into the fabric of your shirt, material clinging to your chest. Her back shudders as she gasps, her mutters broken up with cries that wrack through her body.

Your brain finally catches up, and you look down at the woman, the love of your life, so small against you as she cries.

“Abby?” your voice cracks, clogged from sleep and worry.

She stills for a moment as she holds her breath, trying to stop the shakes of her body, almost as if she were hoping you’d think she was asleep and give up, falling back asleep yourself.

“Baby,” you murmur, slowly moving yourself to wrap around her when you’re sure she’s awake. “What’s wrong?

She grips onto you tighter, lips clamped shut as she breathes sharply and deeply through her nose, muffling her sounds.

“M’fine,” she grits out, voice hoarse. She swallows back her emotions, throat clicking as she presses her forehead against your sternum. “Go back to sleep.”

This does nothing but wake you up more, and you rise up on your elbows to look at her properly, heart tearing in two at the soft sound of protest as you move. You shield her from the rest of the room, a hand coming up to the back of her head to run through the strands that she left untied.

“Abby—”

“I can’t— Just-- please… go back to sleep.” She sounds exhausted, voice strained yet dull, like she doesn’t have any emotion left to force into her tone.

“Not while you’re hurting, Abs,” you whisper, pressing down to kiss her forehead, slightly damp with sweat. “I’m not going to abandon you.”

She breathes out in a soft wheeze, like she’s been punched in the gut. You hear her swallow thickly, clenching and unclenching her fists in the stretched fabric of your shirt. She’s tense, unbelievable so, and you can still feel a small tremor in her muscles.

She’s silent for a long while—you both are. She lays there, breathing deep and shakily against your chest, hot breaths warming your skin. You massage along her scalp, pressing soothing kisses across the side of her face, nosing along her cheek as you let her breathe, moving your legs to tangle with hers.

It’s familiar, as much as you hate that fact. It feels like Abby’s ability to sleep keeps getting worse and worse, and her willingness to let you help has been impacted just as much-- and that’s only when you’re around. Who knows how bad it gets when you’re not there, or when she’s not even home.

“I can’t sleep. I keep—I keep seeing him,” she whispers, hands unclenching to press against your chest, sliding down to hold onto your hips. She finds the hem of your shirt, smoothing under and up, fingers gripping and pulling gently at the bare skin of your back, desperate and seeking. It doesn’t send the usual tingle down your spine; it doesn’t flip your stomach. This is a touch to keep her grounded, to keep her sane.

“Who?” You ask softly, delicately, murmuring into her hair. You brush some out of her face, off the damp surface of her forehead and temples. “Your dad?”

An almost imperceptible shake of her head. “Not—Not dad.”

The repeated question of who is forced back, clamped behind your lips. You let her take her time, not wanting to make her feel rushed or like you’re trying to force an answer out of her. Supporting Abby in these moments is like a dance, a slow, complicated thing that you have to let her take the lead of.

She pulls herself away, extricates herself from your limbs. You look at her properly for the first time, see the way this has aged her, the haunted look in her eyes, her skin pale and clammy. You reach out for her, hands following her movements.

“Abs…” you call out softly, rising with her. She looks to you, a brief flick of her eyes.

“I’m not—I’m not leaving.” She says, shuffling to the edge of the bed. You draw yourself up, moving to give her space.

She throws her legs off the side of the bed, bunching her fists into the edge of the mattress, head hanging so that her chin almost touches her still bare chest. Her skin is freckled and tanned along her shoulders, hair slipping down the length of her torso and hiding her face.

You shuffle up behind her, blanket laying forgotten on the mattress. Your arms slip gently around her middle, coming up to press against her chest. One of your hands lays over her heart, feeling the uneven thrum of it thunder beneath your palm.

You kiss between her shoulder blades, resting your forehead in it’s place.

Her breath stutters, hands still gripping the mattress.

“I can’t sleep. I close my eyes and he’s just—he’s there. But it’s not him because I don’t know what he looks like, so my brain just… I don’t fucking know.” Her chest rises and falls just a bit faster, breathes coming out sharply from her nose. “He’s just this… thing. This fucking monster and I can’t get him out of my fucking head.”

You wet your lips, voice small when you ask once more, “Who?”

“Joel.” Her voice is firm—stronger than you’ve heard it all night. “His name is Joel Miller.”

You don’t know what you expected when you heard his name. A wave of cold? Goosebumps? Shivers down your spine? But his name is so… normal. So generic. Nothing evil, or scary, or monstrous.

“He—” She pauses, and you press closer along her back, placing a few more kisses along the line of her shoulders, up to the back of your neck where you bury yourself.

“I didn’t see it. They—I don’t know who, but they shoved me in a room. Everyone was yelling. People were screaming. There was—” the mattress shakes when she starts bouncing her leg, an anxious tick. “There was so much gunfire. I could hear it move through the building.” She sounds hollow, like she’s reciting lines from a script.

“Abby, you don’t have to—”

“Let me just—” She starts, tone a bit too sharp, which she recognises with a wince. She sighs, slumps into herself somewhat. One of her hands lets go of the mattress, coming up to wrap around your forearm. “I’ve kept it from you. You deserve to know.”

Moving your hand down to clasp at her own, you pull it up to your mouth, kissing the knuckles tenderly. “If you’re sure. I trust you.”

You use your other arm to squeeze her gently, holding her with a reassuring pressure to your chest. You can’t see her face, but you can feel the way she lets some of her weight rest against you, allowing you to help prop her up.

She keeps going.

“I don’t know how long I was hiding, but the alarm started going off and I needed to know. I needed to find my dad.” She breathes, takes a second. “And when I did—” Her voice cracks, and so does her fragile and gossamer-thin mask—her shoulders shaking as her emotions choke her once more.

“Hey,” you whisper, squeezing her hand. “It’s okay. You can skip this part.” You kiss her cheek, shifting yourself to bring a hand up, wiping away the stray tear that connects with your lips. “I love you.”

She nods, throat working as she sniffles, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling, looking up to try and stop herself from crying. Her jaw works, teeth grinding as she tries so hard to shove everything down.

“He killed him. He killed him and then fucking ran.” The back of Abby’s head falls to rest on your shoulder. “We had to bury so many… It took us a week. So many people dead. He made so many of us orphans, while he’s out there somewhere�� Probably with his family.

“Why does he get to have his when he took away mine? Ours?”

She sniffs, just the once, letting even more of her weight drop back against your chest. Your hand, the one wiping away the streaks of tears from her cheeks, rests gently against her jaw, thumb smoothing over the skin.

“I have to find him.”

It feels like your gut flips, a wave of nausea rolling over you. It sends something cold slithering down your spine, the same cold that you hear bleeding through her words.

“Where would you look?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. I have—” she pauses, like she doesn’t know if she should be saying this. “I have some leads. They’re not much, but I have to see them through.”

It hangs there, lingers in the air between you, in the dark of the room. Your chin digs into her shoulder, your eyes staring out into the room.

“What are you going to do to him? When you find him?”

She’s silent. You give her time, wait for a response.

She doesn’t say anything.

“Abby?”

You turn to look at her, watch the way her throat bobs as she swallows, face blank, eyes staring lost at the top of the bunk.

“What I need to,” she whispers, in a voice unrecognisable to you.

Is this the Abby that Owen talked about? The one Mel sees? A version of her that is consumed by this nightmare-- her nightmare-- with only one possible way to free herself from it?

“What if he’s already dead?”

It slips from you without meaning, before you can stop it. She stills against you, breath stuttering to a stop in her chest as she holds it.

“He won’t be.”

“How can you—”

“He won’t,” she snaps, refusing to look at you. “He can’t. He just—He just can’t be.”

You find yourself nodding, backing down, letting her have this. “Okay. He won’t be.”

You both sit there for a while longer, listening to the sounds of each others breath. You ignore your leg when it starts to ache, waiting for her to move first. You don’t want to pull away until she’s ready, until she wants you to. You don’t know how much she needs, how much she wants from you right now, so you let her take until she doesn’t need anymore.

It feels like close to a half hour before Abby slips herself from your hands, moving to rise from the bed.

“Where are you going?”

She steps away from you, and you just watch as she walks the small distance to the dresser, pulling out a shirt at random and shoving it over her head.

“I need some air. I think—I’m gonna go for a run. Or a shower. Or both.”

You swing your legs over the side, moving to stand too. “Let me come with you.”

When Abby turns to look at you, there’s something behind her eyes, something conflicting and fighting-- like a war. She comes back over to you, gently grabbing your upper arms as you rise to stand, sitting you back down.

“Stay,” she says, flicking her eyes away then back to yours. “I… I want to be alone.”

Your gut flips once more, the nausea getting worse. You frown, looking at her and searching her eyes. She holds yours, though her brows twitch to furrow and her jaw works as she grinds her teeth again.

“You know I’m here for you, right?” you whisper, bringing your hands up to cup her face between them. “If you really, truly want to be alone, I’ll give that to you. But I just need to know that you understand that I’m here. Whenever you need me.”

Her expression shifts, something softer and sadder as she looks down at you, but still terribly guarded. She nods, just the once, leaning down to press her forehead against your own. “I know.”

“Okay,” you say back, soft in the space between you. “I love you, Abby. So much.”

She swallows, voice thick as she responds, “I love you too.”

She kisses you, and you can tell just from that one touch that she means it. She means it with her entire sad and grieving heart, despite how much it’s hurting.

You just hope she can tell how much you mean it, too.

⸙

It shouldn’t have surprised you that Abby became a lot more difficult to find after that night. She did the same thing the first time, hardly ever being home, off occupying herself with anything and everything she can.

The only difference was that last time you could at least find her. Abby Anderson is a creature of habit, and if you had the time to check her usual spots you would no doubt find her. But this time, she was always just… somewhere else. You’d only managed to see her twice over the next few days, but it wasn’t for very long, and you couldn’t help but feel like she was distracted the entire time.

You give in after your second interaction with her and try to find Manny, hoping that if anyone knew how she was really doing that it would be him—but somehow, he was just as scarce.

You resign yourself to just letting her come to you when she’s ready, trusting that she would. She must have felt too vulnerable, the wounds too open and fresh and needed some time to heal, lick them clean and piece the dignity she feels like she’s lost back together.

As it always happened, Owen finds you during this time.

The mess hall is loud around you; utensils scraping against plates, groups of people chattering and laughing over their food, the occasional mechanical whirr and hiss of kitchen appliances going off.

You sit alone at your usual table, somewhat slumped against the bulletin wall as you poke with your fork at the sole meatball left on top of your pasta. The copy of Lord of the Flies that you bought at the market is open next to your bowl, a pen nestled in the crook of the spine between the pages. You were slowly but gradually annotating it, but you’ve been staring down at page seventy-six for about ten minutes now and haven’t taken in a single detail.

You’re too busy worrying about Abby.

The thump of someone resting their elbows on the table across from you startles you from your thoughts, fork piercing through the meatball and slicing it in two. You look up, blinking dumbly at the man before you.

“Owen, hey.”

The polite smile you give him twitches the longer you look him over, shifting into a small frown.

“Hey,” he says, trying his hardest to smile back. He looks run down— his hair that’s usually a bit messy looks like he’s been tugging at it thoughtlessly, the beard that Mel tries to make him keep neatly trimmed a bit more scraggly than normal. His clothes are rumpled-- shirt creased, and the collar of his army jacket rolled awkwardly under itself.

“You okay? You close up your book, pushing it and your bowl off to the side. “You look…”

“Handsome? Dashing? Amazing as per usual?” He jokes, scratching at his beard. His eyes lighten up a fraction, but they’re nowhere near as bright as they should be.

You huff a laugh, shifting in your seat. “I was going to say you look exhausted, but that works too, I guess.” He’s quiet, makes a point of looking away. “What’s wrong, Owen?”

“Does something have to be wrong?”

You stare at him, face blank except for the single eyebrow that you raise, just enough to be effective. You’ve nearly perfected the look Mel gives you when she wants you to stop bullshitting, and you know that if anything is going to get Owen to talk, it’ll be this.

“Owen.”

He sighs, looking back to you—you can tell he’s looking at your forehead and not your eyes, which is better than nothing you suppose-- and drums his fingers on the table in front of you.

The eyebrow things works wonders.

“Have you… How’s Mel been?”

“Mel?” You straighten up in your seat, heartrate picking up minutely.

“Short brown hair, about this tall—” He holds up a hand, roughly Mel height, “— very beautiful, lives with you?”

“Ha ha,” you say monotonously, leaning forward against the table, crossing your arms over the surface. “She’s been… fine, I guess? Busy at work when I see her, and she’s been staying at yours this week, so I haven’t really had time to sit down and have a proper chat… Why? Is she okay?”

Owen slumps a bit, offering a shrug. “I don’t know. You’d think I would, but I don’t.”

You lean in closer, trying to find a balance of absolutely needing more information and reassuring. “What’s going on?”

“She’s just… off?” He runs an anxious hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the strands. “She seems like she’s stressed about something, but she won’t tell me what. Just says it’s work and not to worry.”

“Work has been really busy, lately… Are you sure it’s really not just that?”

He immediately shakes his head. “No. Something’s up.” He finally looks at you, a pleading but embarrassed look in his eyes.

You clock it immediately. “Owen…”

“Just talk to her for me? Please? What if it’s something I’m doing, and she won’t tell me?”

“I can’t force her to tell me what’s wrong,” you say, frowning at him.

“I’m not asking you to force it out of her. I don’t even want to know what she tells you, I just want to make sure she’s okay. And if she doesn’t feel comfortable enough to tell me, then I’m hoping she can find comfort in you. She shouldn’t have to be upset by herself.”

You blink at him, looking into his eyes, pleading and desperate and sad. It’s honestly kind of sweet, how concerned he is for her.

You let out a deep, resigned breath and give in.

“I’ll talk to her. But I cant promise she’ll want to tell me anything, and I’m not going to tell you whatever she tells me, okay? Unless I think she’s like, going to get herself killed or something.”

Owen’s body slumps fully against the table. “Thank you,” he breathes, relieved. “I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

Reaching over across the table, you pat his arm comfortingly. “I get that. You’re a good partner, you know?”

He flushes slightly, colour creeping up from the collar of his jacket to the tips of his ears.

He raises back up. “I have some room to improve… but thanks.” His smile is embarrassed, but the most genuine one you’ve gotten out of him today. He nods to you. “You are, too.”

You pause; the smile frozen on your face. “What?”

Owen stutters, a wave of guilt passing over his face. He doubles down. “I— I said you’re a good partner too.”

You both stare at each other, the mess hall bustling around you as your minds work a mile a minute. You stumble slightly, trying to find your words. “I don’t—What do you—”

“Look, I promise I won’t say anything,” he rushes out, holding his hands up to you reassuringly.

“I knew you figured it out!” You hiss, leaning towards him on the table. “How did—When did you—”

“I mean, I noticed right away that she had feelings for you,” he said, also leaning in. “I know how she is when she likes someone. And you aren’t exactly all that subtle either, so I was more just waiting on the two of you to realise it yourselves.”

You huff, embarrassed, looking away. “I wasn’t that obvious.”

“You were making goo-goo eyes at her the first time you met. I was there, remember?” You don’t know when his smile became a teasing smirk, but you hate him for it. “And I’m not the only one that thought it was weird that you and Isabella didn’t stay together for longer.”

“First of all, never call them goo-goo eyes ever again,” you say, raising a finger at him. “Second, me and Isabella didn’t work out because we wanted different things.”

Owen raises an eyebrow. “And what did you want?”

You open your mouth, then close it again. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

He laughs, more of that mirthful light coming back to his eyes.

“You noticing we were uselessly pining for each other doesn’t explain to me how you know, though,” you point out, crossing your arms over your chest.

Owen has the decency to look a little bit embarrassed—somewhat hesitant to speak up. He clears his throat. “You know that just because you can’t see anyone, that doesn’t mean that nobody can see you, right?”

“Huh?”

“The WLF banner. It doesn’t exactly—I mean it does a pretty good job, but if you’re entering from the East Gate, you can kind of see around it and--”

You stand abruptly, nearly tripping on the bench seat. “This was a great talk, Owen, but I have to go now.”

He laughs, watching you lean down to collect your things. “Nobody really looks up there, but if you—”

“We’re never talking about this ever again,” you say, tone final. He grins up at you, and despite the circumstances, you feel a sense of relief at the sight.

Your movements slow to a stop, fingers left to fiddle with the corner of the book. “You won’t like, bring this up to anyone, yeah? Abby’s not really one for people knowing her business and I don’t want her to think—”

His face softens, and he shakes his head. “You know I get how she is about these sorts of things. I promise I won’t speak a word of it, even to Mel. Especially to Mel.”

“Mel knows already,” you inform him, still looking down at the book. “You remember our fight?”

“Oh.” Understanding washes over him like a wave. “That… makes a bit more sense, now.”

“Yeah,” you clear your throat, tucking your book under your arm and picking up your bowl of leftovers. “I promise I’ll try and talk to Mel.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“No sweat,” you say, stepping back from the table. “I’ll see you around?”

“Sure,” he nods, smiling up at you. “You know, if you want any good spots, I can—”

You turn on your heels and walk away without another word, Owen’s laugh following you.

⸙

True to your word, you organise to have a talk with Mel.

You don’t outright ask, which maybe was a shitty move on your part, but you figured that if she was trying to hide whatever was bothering her from Owen, that this was something that needed to be approached a bit more delicately than catching her in one of your spare moments.

You find her at work the following day, sliding beside her at the wash station to ask what her plans were for that night.

She shrugs, rinsing the lather from between her fingers. “All my stuff is at Owen’s still, so I’ll probably just go back there tonight.”

“Well, cancel that. I’m stealing you for the night.”

Mel looks to you, hands stilling under the water stream. “But my stuff-“

“I’ll go get it on my break. Owen’s home, right?” You already know that Owen is home, having just talked to him yesterday. “I’ll just get him to let me in.”

She eyes you for a few more seconds, studying you, before turning off the tap and shaking out her hands.

“Sure.” Mel nods to herself, lips curling up into a tired smile. “That’d be nice.”

The two of you clocked off at the same time, something that has been happening less and less as the days go by. You appreciate the independence that you have now that you’re no longer under supervision, but you can’t lie and say that you don’t miss Mel more.

You wait for her as she bundles herself back up in her puffer coat, holding out the crook of your arm for her to slip her own into as you make the trek down to the caf for dinner. The lines were thankfully not too long by the time you got there, so you settled on getting some burrito bowls and heading home.

You set up the dining table as Mel got changed, making some excuse about how you never properly sit here anymore, how you miss having family dinners. Really, it was because you couldn’t look at the couch properly anymore, and the idea of sitting on it with Mel after having Abby over the other week… You just couldn’t do it.

So, you ate at the table, you on one end and Mel on the other, food transferred from the takeaway containers to real bowls because you know Mel prefers it.

You also talked. Emphasis on the you. Mel was kind, and she politely joined in on the conversation, made sure you knew that she was interested and listening, but she wasn’t participating as enthusiastically as she normally would. And when you look at her from the other side of the table, looking down at her food and dragging her fork distractedly through her rice, you can’t help but think that she really is off. That Owen was onto something.

You swallow a mouthful of lettuce and beans, setting your fork down in the bowl.

“I had to set a dislocated shoulder today,” you say, looking over at her.

“Yeah?” comes her reply, interested in theory, but she keeps staring down at her food.

“Yeah. I messed it up, though. Pulled it right off instead.”

You hoped that would get some reaction out of her-- a huff of laughter, a playful roll of her eyes— not an exasperated sigh and the sound of her fork clinking harshly against the ceramic as she drops it. Mel finally looks up at you, though her expression is hard, serious.

Anxiety zips through your veins, making the tips of your fingers tingle and spark.

“Mel?”

“I need to tell you something,” she starts, tone just as serious as her expression. “And you need to promise that you won’t tell anyone, no matter what. Not until I say you can, okay?”

You blink, trying to wrap your head around the sudden shift in energy. “Yeah—I mean, of course. You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Your palms sweat as she looks at you, something softening behind her eyes as she takes in your visible anxiety.

“Are… Are you and Owen okay?” you broach carefully, feeling ill just asking it. How would you look at him, knowing that he begged you to talk to her because he was so concerned for her, only to find out that she was thinking of ending things.

Something flickers across her face.

“Owen? We’re fine. More than fine,” she sighs, posture slipping a bit. “I hope we are? This is—I don’t know how this is going to change things.”

“Mel, you’re kind of scaring me,” you admit, feeling like the air around you is getting thinner. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

You watch, confused, as she stands up from the table and pads down the steps of the room, over to her bed. She pulls open one of the drawers by her bedside, shuffling things around before pulling something out. When she makes her way back to you, whatever she grabbed hidden away in her hand, she pulls out the chair next to you and drops herself down into it.

“Have you finished eating?” She asks, looking down at your bowl.

You look down with her, shoving it aside. You weren’t, but there’s no way you could eat now.

She places a parcel, a small thing wrapped in old newspaper, on the table in its place.

You look to her in question, words escaping you in this moment of tension, and she simply nods, giving you permission to open it.

You don’t notice the tremble in your hands until you pick the parcel up. It’s only a couple of inches long and whatever is inside is small, skinny, barely weighing a thing.

It’s wrapped neatly, and you flip it over to unpick the sliver of tape keeping the paper together. You use the same amount of care that you’d use when opening a present, something screaming at you that this is important.

It feels like your body is reacting before your mind, part of you already knowing what she’s given you, what is coming next, but all the signs and warnings are being blocked before they can register in your brain.

It’s only when you’re looking at the pregnancy test in the middle of the paper that it all clicks, and the air in your lungs leaves you in one big rush.

Two lines.

Pregnant.

You look up at Mel, neck almost snapping from the movement.

“Mel—”

“What do I do?” She asks, her large eyes looking imploringly into your own.

Your eyes flick back down at the test, the faded two lines on the stick staring back up at you.

“Aren’t these super expired? Surely there’s no way it’s still working.”

“I know, but I was freaking out and felt like I couldn’t calm down unless I took one,” she says, a slightly tremor in her voice.

“It’s just one test, though, right? I don’t think—”

Mel cuts you off by standing up, once again moving down the steps to her side of the room. This time she squats down by her bunk, pulling out her duffel and reaching somewhere far behind it. She pulls something out, whatever it is clattering around as she grips it and stands back up.

She puts it on the table next to the test when she makes her way back, slumping into the chair next to you to stare at it.

It’s a clear biohazard bag from the tents, full of at least twenty other pregnancy tests.

Without even needing to open the bag you can already see what the majority of them say through the plastic. Some are inconclusive, but the ones that show results all read positive.

“Oh shit,” you breathe, unable to rip your eyes away from the bag.

“Yeah,” Mel sighs, looking with you. “Shit, indeed.”

You turn to her in your chair.

“This doesn’t mean anything. Not yet, right? Do you have any other symptoms? When’s the last time you had your period?”

“I’m late,” she says, and you let out another breath, deflating slightly.

“That’s not— People are late all the time. And you and Owen are so careful, so I don’t—” You cut yourself off, watching the way her cheeks darken, the way she look at the floor. “Oh, Mel, you didn’t,” you gasp, holding a hand up to your mouth.

“It was only the once,” she argues, arms sliding around herself, across her stomach. “When we were at the aquarium, after he took me to get all that Christmas stuff. We were decorating, listening to music, dancing, and it was just really nice, okay? And we usually keep a bunch stashed around the place, but we weren’t by any and we didn’t want to leave so we just—” She cuts herself off, dragging her gaze back to the bag.

You slump back in your seat, staring at it with her.

It feels unreal. You and Mel have never talked about children before, how you feel about them or if you’d ever want them. But even if Mel does want kids, even if it’s something that she’s always dreamed about, having it happen so suddenly…

You can’t help the shocked little laugh that leaves you, a giggle that you try and muffle behind your hand. But then Mel is laughing too, and you both end up laughing together, shocked and unsure and scared at what this means as you stare at the bag on the table.

You blindly reach out for her, grasping one of her hands in your own.

“You’re gonna be a mom. Maybe,” you tack on, not wanting to jinx anything, just in case.

You look over at Mel as she looks to you, squeezing your hand and smiling just a little bit. It’s strained, exhausted, but there. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“You’ve got this.No matter what happens, you’re going to kick ass.”

She swallows, eyes getting a bit misty. “What if… What if Owen doesn’t—”

You turn in your chair, facing her head on. “He loves you. He’s crazy about you. If I’m being entirely honest, I’m surprised you haven’t come to me with a pregnancy scare sooner. I know you two aren’t just cuddling when you’re there all the time.”

She huffs an embarrassed laugh, shy as she looks away.

“Don’t worry about what Owen will say right now though, okay? Not until we know for sure, and you know what you want to do.”

She nods silently, squeezing your hand again in response. The other rests absently across her middle.

“No matter what, you’ve got me. If you don’t think I’m going to be the most annoying person left in the world throughout this pregnancy then you’re sorely mistaken,” you joke, making her laugh.

“Thank you,” she says, throat tight with overwhelming emotion. You smile, pulling her in by the hand to wrap your arms around her, hugging her tight.

“You’ve got this.” You whisper into her hair, kissing the top of her head. “I’m gonna be the coolest aunt ever.”

Mel scoffs playfully, and you both dissolve into giggles.

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