#needed or is there ready to remind him that he should be careful in regards to his soul (which side note this whole thing has some | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bonbonly · 6 days ago

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𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: heavily inspired by hannibal - after hearing tons of praise in regards to psychiatrist!max verstappen, you decide to test your luck and see what his true colors are 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: this is a dark fic! you have been warned! do not read if you're not comfortable with dark fics or any of the following in this fic: dubcon, drugging/aphrodisiac, knife play, cunnilingus, p in v, character death, reader is not a good person, blood/gore, slapping 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i want to give a special shoutout to @gokyrts because look at the abomination she's made me write, oh my god...

"mr. verstappen's skills knows no bounds, but the only ones being bound under his spell are the countless patients he must've paid to spread his work as if it were a gospel," you echoed the words that you wrote onto your laptop, the rough draft being filled with small notes on the side of the document to remind you of any criticism of the man that you might've missed the first time. your fingers drummed against the keys of your laptop, your brows furrowed as you tried to find another sentence to add. to spite him. to inform him that he had to be a greedy, money hungry hoax. your friends always told you that his appointments were so relaxing, they were very helpful but you saw through his lies. you knew that something had to be up. working as a forensic scientist for the BAU, and secretly organizing a crime blog under a pseudonym, you've racked up enough credentials to be under verstappen's radar. perhaps he was the only one that knew about the blog, and it irked you.

he mentioned once after you stopped by his office to request his presence in the lab. direct orders from your boss, you stated, making it very clear with your tone that you didn't ask for it. you'd rather die than have him near the corpse, stealing all the credit that should rightfully go to you. the depths you went to find the real perpetrator days later was overshadowed by the single fact that verstappen had walked in and saw a petal of a rose just underneath the right calf of the corpse. a careless mistake, he told your boss, but one that could be easily tweaked if you had just scheduled an appointment with him so he could discuss parts of your childhood that you locked away, buried underneath your heels so that every time you stomped around, you imagined it to be the throat of your parents. you were told to accompany the psychiatrist back to his office, and when you dropped him off he merely smiled at you, his dutch accent infiltrating your ears, "you always miss the details, which is surprising because you never seem to do it under your blog, caroli- i mean, ms. (l/n)."

your blood ran cold at his words, and you stumbled out of his office with a hardened glare. he was reading your blog, and had somehow directed it to you. how did he know? there was no possible way for him to know. you worked for the fbi, for peter's sake, you knew how to tidy up evidence, to be careful when lurking through unclear waters. how did the bastard know about this? so, when you typed up the new article criticizing his work and suggesting that he might be behind the disappearance of a few colleagues of yours, you knew he would read it. with full confidence, you wanted him to read it and storm into your office ready to snap your neck.

but he never did. in fact, he never even looked at you at all the next day. or the day after. or the week after. he smiled at your associates, then locked himself in his room, welcoming in patients and booking appointments for the ones too timid to ask him for one. during a lunch break, you walked past his hallway and pressed your ear against his door to listen in to an appointment he had with your friend. the shattering of glass, a muffled scream, the sound of a bullet, metal cracking against her skull, any sound would do for you. you just needed one piece of evidence, but you received none. your friend walked out unscathed, a happy smile on her face as she greeted you back in the lab. your eyes cast down to your hands, a feeling of momentary guilt rising in your gut. you wanted to forge your hands into the fire for writing that article and painting him in a bad light; no favorable colors, no accurate brush strokes, a half-assed attempt where the paint bled through the canvas, seeping through the lines that you carefully concocted. it didn't make sense, you were so sure of it! all the victims -charles, lewis, carlos, daniel - your good friends who were missing had one thing in common: they had booked appointments with verstappen before their disappearance. they also were in contention to get a promotion, daniel had also been a psychiatrist, eagerly waiting for his new life to become the head of the department one day. it was a risky move, but you figured that if you pushed his buttons enough, he'd slip up. he'd expose himself, he'd make a mistake and then you'd have him trapped. the entire BAU would understand that they had a criminal right under their noses this entire time.

for this entire plan to succeed, you had to do a few things. your first plan was to write more articles on your secret blog. while the BAU was scratching their heads about how their confidential cases were being exposed so easily, you were dropping bombshell after bombshell on your blog, your finger always pointing to the psychiatrist that would now look at you across the room with a deadly glint in his eyes. his lips were always in a thin line, and occasionally you caught him smirking whenever you'd miss a detail during analysis. you were predictable to him, and you needed to find a way to defeat him at his own game. there was a reason as to why he hadn't exposed you yet, perhaps the lack of evidence but you realized that there was something about you that made him keep quiet. you had power over him, the thought of it made you giggle uncontrollably at your desk one day, spinning around your chair like a little school girl. the second plan was to use his own tricks against him, which meant finally noticing the smaller details, being smarter than the rest of the team and most importantly, being incredibly fast. whether it be responding to your boss, showing up to a meeting, scavenging a crime scene to find clues or evidence, you had to be first. this entire time the team thought of him as reliable because he was the first one present at all times. you had to change that, had to show the team that the tide was turning to your favor. you noticed the way he'd bite the inside of his cheek, the light illuminating from the side would highlight his cheekbones, the dent a shadow amongst the very little light on his face.

and then finally, the third part of your plan. book the appointment with him. this one hurt your ego the most, but in order to catch him you had to stoop down to his level. making him think that you were willing to open up to him should give him the opportunity to do the same with you, and once vulnerable you could easily coax the truth out of him. you sat across from him on a velvet chair, legs crossed as your eyes traveled around the room, memorizing the layout of his office and the objects that were on display.

"lots of cars i see here," you pointed towards one large model of an RB19 on his shelf. he buried his hands in his pockets, teetering on his toes as he let out a small chuckle,

"i like things that are fast. things that fly, speed through... run," the last word sent shivers down your spine, but you swallowed the bile that threatened to rise and forced a smile at him.

"care for a drink? i got some wine if you'd like?" he walked over to the stand of champagne bottles on display. the glass sparkled under the light, its contents swishing around with each step that he took closer. it reminded you of your guts wanting to spill out and as he grabbed the bottle's neck, you gulped and felt the ghost of his hands tightening around yours. with a cough, you shook your head but he rolled his shoulders in a way of disbelief and stalked over to you with a wine glass in his hand, "please, i think you need it. it's ok, it'll help you relax."

the liquid pooled down your throat, but you kept your eyes open in fear that he might take advantage of you like this. you couldn't let your guard down, not like this. you watched as he settles down on the couch directly across from you, his legs spread out giving you an ample view of what you assumed to be his cock fighting to be restrained in his pants but with a firm snap of his fingers, your eyes flicker up to his face and then you saw the smallest hint of a smile on his face. you hadn't seen one in weeks.

"so why exactly did you book this appointment?" he asked, tilting his head. his hands clasped together, the forefingers coming up to touch his lips. you shrugged in response, before quickly shaking your head. shit, you needed to follow along with the plan you made!

"just... just been having some bad nightmares about my past," you responded. the topic of your parents was sensitive, one that you kept hidden for many years after you graduated high school. their death was their own doing, but somehow you felt that you had a part in it. had the murderer been you, it would've made no difference because the guilt remained. the bystander was far worse than the actual criminal. your mother's head rolling down the hill as your father watched with a twisted back. you winced at the memories, the glass slipping from your hands, "fuck!"

max watched your reactions carefully. his eyes were drawn to the way your fingers hovered over the glass, almost afraid that it would grab you. you paid no mind to the wine stain, but the countless apologies that spilled from your lips was music to his ears. he wanted to hear you say them, but in a very different circumstance. he read every article you wrote, he noticed your shift in behavior around him. he was a psychiatrist; if you wanted to play mind games with him, he was already ten steps ahead. while guiding you to stand near the shelf of cars, he went over to his closet to grab the broom and dustpan. he took off his coat, rolling the sleeves of his shirt before crouching down to gently grab the large pieces of glass. he dragged his finger onto the pool of wine on the floor and licked a long stripe, "such a shame. i always hate seeing my appetite go to waste."

the appointment was cut short much to your chagrin. your carelessness, you thought to yourself, you just didn't understand why you kept making small mistakes like this. you had to train your mind to be better. you sighed and gave one last glance to the RB19 model when you noticed the initials D.R. in italics on the edge of the car. before you could step closer, you felt strong arms grab onto your shoulders, guiding you out the door, "ms. (l/n), i am so sorry about what happened here. i would love to hear more about your past, but perhaps in a setting that might not scare you too much. dinner at my house, maybe? would that be an offer you're willing to take up?"

you frowned at his words, wriggling away from his touch, "you invite all your patients to your house for dinner?"

"only the ones i believe i have a strong connection with," he responded, licking his lips as he leant against the doorframe. you tapped your heels a couple times, thinking the offer over. if you declined, you'd have to come back to his stupid office. but... but if you accepted, you'd be able to catch him in his environment - and while he had the advantage of home ground - he definitely had to be hiding things there.

"you mind if i bring a friend over?" you asked, and he smiled,

"the more the merrier, but i don't think we can talk about your history then."

"it's ok. we can talk about my life later."

"6:30 at my place, i'll send the address down to you shortly."

"oh, mr. verstappen, dinner is very lovely! did you make this all by yourself?" your friend asked while taking a bite of the lasagna. her words are tuned out as you shifted through your food with a fork. the darkness of the dining room did little to ease any of your fears. you had walked in feeling confident, ready to tackle the monster down with your bare hands, but his kindness. his professionalism. his unwavering stare. they all made you feel as if you were being suffocated. you didn't have much energy in you to continue with the fake conversations. excusing yourself to use the bathroom to then explore his mansion would be too cliche, he'd be waiting for you to do it anyway. being too predictable would bore him, which would mean the chances of you being killed would be higher.

"not liking the food, ms. (l/n)?" max asked, his eyes flickering down to the food he cooked being tossed around like a bird amongst hyenas.

"no, i'm just... not very hungry, unfortunately," you responded, grabbing the wine to drink.

"a bite wouldn't hurt. just one bite, i spent hours cooking for tonight," he chuckled, and your friend kicked your leg under the table, her eyes narrowing at you to take a bite. you could already hear what she was saying in her mind. the poor man went out of his way for dinner and here you are, being a rude guest! with a very reluctant sigh, you grab hold of the fork and let your teeth sink onto the lasagna, the flavor melting into your tastebuds as you let out a slow hum of approval. it tasted nice, very nice actually. so you took another bite, and then another. her appetite's back, your friend laughed and max nodded his head, smiling at you.

but when dessert rolled in, you felt uneasy. your insides felt empty, as if craving for something that you couldn't quite place. your thighs clenched together as your gripped onto the arms of the chair. you couldn't make out whatever max was saying. he was asking you if you were alright, but his eyes asked a different question. you hadn't noticed how big his eyes were before, or the fact that his pupils were so dilated. how did you miss that detail before? was he always like this? you quickly excused yourself, running to the bathroom but each brush of your thigh under the thigh made you choke on air, your mind hazy. upon locking yourself inside, you immediately collapsed onto the ground, your head in your hands. you felt strong pair of hands around your waist, groping at your tits that spilled out of your dress - or was it be ripped off of you? your pussy bare against the cold dampness of the room, your mouth propped open with fingers as the sweet taste of an apple made its way. your jaw was sore at how your teeth delved into the fruit and stood rooted there as your arms were bound above your head. was that the woody scent of a candle, or the fireplace that was underneath you? where was that burning sensation? under you... or inside you? your legs were being spread apart, the itchy rope curling around your limbs to make sure you wouldn't move. you opened your eyes lazily to see a figure with dirty blonde hair at the end of the table, his shiny teeth visible amongst the evil grin you saw.

"my favorite meal... all to myself." he whispered, letting his tongue rake over your glistening folds. your strangled moans are swallowed by the apple in your mouth, your body aching for more as his nose nudges your clit. his teeth nip at your labia, tongue invading your womanhood as you can't do anything but scream out loud, drooling from the corners of your mouth. his tongue rolls your clit around, lapping at any juice that seeps from your cunt. he wants to ensure your taste is on his tongue forever. the sweetest dessert that one would ask for. his fingers spread your mound to get a good look at his masterpiece and he lets his saliva stalk down to your pussy before harshly rubbing your clit. when you finally look past your tits to see who this figure was: your heart stopped at the sight of max staring down at you with a predatory look.

you screamed as you woke up in your bed, cold sweat dripping down your forehead. you glanced down to your hands, your feet, your clothes that covered your body. you looked around your room, unsure as to how you were back in your bedroom. it felt real... was it real? you couldn't tell. you pulled the waistband of your panties down, check to see if you were still a wet mess. nothing. laying back down on your bed, you placed a hand on your heaving chest and ran your free hand down your face. what just happened? what was going on? you had to find out, you had to get to the bottom of this.

which meant having to go back to his house. on guard, and once again with someone. you decided to bring a colleague that you despised, but it would be better to sacrifice her than your friend.

you sat across the dining table, and despite how predictable it was, you excused yourself to the bathroom, keeping note as to how his eyes focused on your ass. never miss the details, you thought to yourself. you headed to the bathroom, opening the door to turn the lights on before shutting the door. with a few fake thuds just outside the bathroom door, you took your heels off and carefully took them with you around the staircase. with the layout of the house, the dining room wouldn't give clear access to the left side of the kitchen. which meant that the pantry could be entered carefully without him noticing. your colleague was busy entertaining him about her vacation in milan, her loud voice thunderous enough to rattle the house... and enough to mask the creaking of the pantry door as you slipped inside. it was cold, almost like entering the arctic as you pulled out a tiny flashlight to guide you through the foreign place. the meat hung forlornly from the hooks, the torse of a pig on display. you frowned at the ink patterns on the meat, and you hesitantly turned it around. you'd seen these marks before somewhere. a vacation trip with your friends that you planned one evening. someone had dragged you into the pool as a prank and when you floated to the surface, spluttering out the chlorine water, your hands found the shoulders of a man inked with tattoos on his back. it was lewis. your flashlight slipped out of your hands and clattered onto the metal railings.

"fuck, fuck, fuck!" you hissed, scrambling to grab the small material. you were delighted that your suspicions were correct, that this entire time you were right about verstappen. but you needed to get out. you could see the shadow of footsteps underneath the pantry door. there was a back entrance to the pantry, and you stumbled towards it. from the corner of your eye you noticed a bottle of liquid and you uncapped it with your teeth, chugging the liquid down. you really needed some wine to calm your nerves down at the moment. letting the bottle roll back onto the metal table, you ran out the door into the open woods. you'd have to go around the path to get back to your car in the front of the house. the more minutes you stood to think about a plan, the more time was being wasted. from the distance, you could hear the back entrance of his house being opened and you whined out loud, pushing your feet to continue running. you didn't want to die, not like this... no, not now, not ever!

and yet with each step that you took, you felt a strong pain inside you. that pain you felt when you had dinner for the first time at his house. you were craving for something, you didn't know. was it his tongue again? no, what? why were you thinking about that awful nightmare? you remembered the outline of his cock during your first appointment, oh it looked delectable. you could've gotten on your knees then and sucked him as payment for the appointment! as your mind was reeling with uncontrolled desire, your knees buckled and your leg caught onto a root from a tree. crashing forward with a loud groan, you struggled to get back up on your feet when you felt the underside of a boot press gently against your neck, pushing your face onto the ground.

"i told you before i liked things that run. at this point, you're just teasing me," a familiar dutch voice rang from above you. the boot nudged you over onto your back, causing you to hold back a whimper at the sensation. you were sensitive to everything, your skin on fire as he trailed his foot down your body and right below your heat. right below where your desire was burning.

"y-you killed them. i was right, you killed them all," you weakly laughed, "i was right this entire fucking time."

"round of applause for you, ms. (l/n), oh wait..." he paused, looking around the empty woods before he glanced down to you, "no one's here." he rubbed the toe-box of his boot against your clothed cunt, enjoying the way your back arched, squealing at the way your clit was being dragged along your damp panties.

"tsk tsk tsk," he circled to stand right in front of you between your legs, "you always missed the details. you could've made it, you know? you could've gotten to your car and made it back to your house, schatje. but it's your carelessness... what did you drink before you came out here?"

"w-w-wine?" you responded, tilting your head. you let out another moan as the boot dug deeper onto your mound.

"wine mixed into the aphrodisiac. which would've been my last resort if you had properly rescheduled the appointment that we never finished. details, ms. (l/n), always look at the details," he knelt down, letting his hand replace his boot. the warmth of his fingers made you whine, begging him to end your suffering. your mind was purely empty - save the thought of having him satisfy your primal needs. he bunched up your panties, tugging them up to see your pussy coat the fabric with more of your juices, "fuck... you're so wet. it must hurt doesn't it? you wish you had someone to help you, schat?"

"yes, yes, yes please... please!" you cried, bucking your hips up. max laughed, seeing the way your pussy was grinding against your panties. he ripped them off of you, throwing them over his shoulder as he picked you up into his arms, carrying you as if you were his bride.

"i think a change of environment will put you in your place." he mumbled, and while you didn't catch onto it at first, when he tossed you onto the metal table in his pantry, you felt fear course through your body. "such a nice suit i had on today, and now you made me ruin it."

he slips off his coat and vest, rolling the sleeves of his shirt that hugged his biceps. he searched around the pantry for a while before grabbing an apron, tying it around his slim waist. he gazed up at you as his chin tucked into his neck and he let out a dry laugh, "you know... if you had just stuck to your job, this wouldn't have been a problem. always wanting to be the hero, when you're the villain yourself."

he grabbed the butcher knife, tossing it in the air a couple times, "i used to keep him with a bunch of other knives, all neatly organized just like i love. had to use him so often these days that he gets his own special spot. what do you think? he's beautiful isn't he?" he holds the knife up to your hooded eyes, and when you don't respond, he uses the butt of the utensil to slap your face, beckoning you to respond.

"i-it's nice," you mumbled, and he nods his appreciatively, letting the sharp edge of the object gently kiss your skin before he cut away at your dress and bra, exposing all of you to him. he saw the lump in your throat when you swallowed, and he brought the edge of the knife to your neck, watching you crane around to avoid the sharp edge. he tossed the knife in the air once again, which caused you to shriek out loud in fear that it'll slice you but he caught it and tapped the butt of the knife on your lips.

"suck," he commanded, and still clouded by the aphrodisiac, you do what he asked and twirled your tongue around the tip before opening your mouth wider and letting it fully devour your throat. you caught your reflection in the metal, and you can't even believe how blinded you must be. the details, the details, the details. the body of daniel hanging above you, staring at you with closed eyes and parted lips should have you screaming as you rolled your eyes back, but instead you're feeling yourself growing wetter, eager to please max. the weapon hits your teeth as max trailed your saliva down the valley of your tits, over your navel and to your cunt that's been so desperate this entire time. he pursed his lips as if he was deep in thought and then brought his free hand to spread your legs wider, shoving the butt of the knife into you. the feeling of being stretched out, of finally being filled - even if only a little - had your back escape the confines of the metal table, your tits out in the air as you're sobbing in joy. max saw the way you're mewling, body contorting in pleasure and he left your cunt empty once again before slamming the butcher knife right beside your head. your breath hitched in your throat, the fear once again settling but it made your heart race in excitement. there was a small thrill present, maybe he was right earlier. you were the villain all along. you were worse than him. he took off the apron, unbuckling his belt and he snickered,

"you could've grabbed the knife and stabbed me by now, but you didn't... too desperate to get fucked, isn't that right, liefje?"

he let his cock spring free from the confines that tormented him since the day he saw you at the BAU. head held high, a haughty gleam in your eyes. the arrogance as you talked down to him, acted as if you were superior. he was waiting all along for this moment. his cock slid against your folds and when he pushed in, the tears that flowed from your eyes combined with the guttural moan made him smile. something was missing though, something that could make this so much more better for him. and as he began to thrust, he glanced up to see another corpse from a previous victim hanging to the side. a cruel idea formed in his mind and he grinned down at you,

"schatje, i don't think i could bring myself to hurt you... not when you're being such a good slut for me," he cooed, "but... but a man can't help but imagine..."

he grabbed hold of the butcher knife, slicing the corpse and letting the blood splatter onto the top half of your body. it trickled onto the table beneath you, the tiled floor now the canvas of a new twisted desire. he laughed out loud at the sight of half of your face covered in blood, and he brought the coated knife to your neck, continuing to thrust his aching cock into you as you screamed out loud in a horrid mix of fear and desire. you could feel your cunt clamp onto his cock, so close to cumming as his thrusts became more erratic.

"i knew you'd like this... you came all this way here to see if you could understand me. schat, but do you even know who you are?" he questioned, letting the edge of the knife kiss your neck. and as you came undone with a scream, your vision blurring at the intensity, you realized he was right all along. the details, you missed all the details. your parents death wasn't because of some man that had swerved the car late at night. it was you. you swung the sledgehammer at the car while they were driving down the highway, drunk out of your mind out of anguish from all the abuse you faced as a child. the man stopped to see the commotion and you sent his body flying down the hill. you'd done it, you were a murderer. you were twisted, you were... you were as bad as him. you glanced up to see max still bullying your cunt, pushing you to another orgasm before you could process the toll your body was taking in the process.

"your scent always drove me wild," he whispered, leaning down to bite your nipple, "fuck, schatje... i'll give you a deal." he lifted his head slightly to meet your gaze, "we can work together, you know? with your skill and this cunt of yours, i could keep you around. no harm to you at all, unless of course you'd like it."

"t-the blog... no, no, i can't... i'm better than you. i'm not you, i'm not fucked up like - oh fuck, don't stop!" your argument melts away with each snap of his hips,

"you have no other choice here. there's two ways this can go. you keep coming to my office, be my personal slut, trained completely to take my cock and i'll let you live... with the added benefit of working and helping me. and if you don't," the butcher knife digs a bit deeper into your neck, "i think you understand what i mean, right schatje?"

you nod your head, throwing your head back as you let out another visceral scream as your second orgasm rips through your body. he captures your lips in a bruising kiss, murmuring praises at how perfect you'd be, how you were always destined for this, no matter how much your ego told you differently.

and yet as you laid beside him on his bed that night, well-cleaned and taken care of as his new trophy, you secretly uploaded the photos of his pantry to your blog and slipped out of his house, past your dead colleague in the living room. he'd come after you, that was for sure. but he liked to hunt, and you've learned to run.

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jihyoruri · 5 months ago

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❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY kim chaewon x reader

↳ warnings richgirl!yn, read these three parts before this one if you haven’t already, getting glimpse into yn, chaewon is chaewon…, mentions of weight & throwing up, yn’s family (a real warning fr), pre debut stuff

yn knew who she was from a very young age.

she came from an old money family, the moon family, but it wasn’t just any old money—it was wealth built over generations of hard work, or so her father would tell her.

her family was extremely important, involved in almost every major company in korea. they held a high status and were regarded with the utmost respect, held to the highest standards imaginable.

and oh was that standard installed in yn.

the numbers four, ten, fourteen, sixteen, eighteen and nineteen is something that yn will always remember for six important reasons. It's likely the reason she is who she is today.

age four is the last time yn remembers really crying.

she probably cried before that, but she obviously didn’t have the memory to recall those times.

ever since she was born, she remembers being in her father’s arms, never her mother’s. her father took care of her along with her brothers.

yn knew her father wasn’t the best man, but he wasn’t the worst. at least he acknowledged all three of his children. while he definitely paid more attention to her brothers, he still looked after her.

her mother, though, never acknowledged her. even when yn was a little baby, her mother’s focus was always on her boys.

both parents’ attention was always on the boys—they were the future of the family, the men of the family. at least her father made a little bit of effort when it came to yn.

at age four, yn was at the age where all she wanted to do was play outside, winter had fallen and disappeared and it was finally getting warmer outside, so it was the perfect opportunity to go play outside.

she asked her dad to accompany her but he was getting ready for a meeting.

“go play out front,” he said patting her head, “it’s beside my window, so I’ll be able to see you, the gate is locked so it should be safe, it’s big enough for you to run around, just watch out for the flowers, the maid planted them yesterday.”

yn excitedly ran out of her father's office, dashed down the large marble steps, and headed for the front door, but not without bumping into one of her older brothers.

“where you are going?” daeun asked his sister.

"outside! dad said I can play out front," she replied eagerly.

the ten year old clicked his tongue and shook his head. "lucky you. after jae’s done getting ready with mom, I'm next." he was about to remind her that the whole family had dress fittings today for the ball they were hosting, but she was already out the door.

yn basked in the sunlight as she ran out front, rolling in the grass and sprinting on the concrete.

suddenly, her foot slipped, causing her to fall and hit her knee on one of the decorative stones. blood started to paint the stone red

yn let out the loudest cry imaginable, clutching her knee, not even caring about the blood on her hands.

“yn!”

yn looked up, she furrowed her eyebrows confused to see her mother running towards her and not her father.

“oh my- what happened?!” the woman asked kneeling in front of her daughter.

“I was running and tripped.” yn sniffed as her mom lifted her up, she wrapped her arms around the woman’s shoulders leaning her head down, “where’s daddy? I need him to look at my knee.”

“he’s in his meeting,” the woman informed the crying girl, “I’ll look at your cut.”

“but he always looks at them! do you know how to look at mine?”

the woman patted her daughters back as they made their way inside the big house, “I look at your brothers all the time, let me patch you up and then get you ready for the dress fitting.”

instead of arguing more yn just sniffled tightening her grip on her mother who walked further into the house.

“we also can’t be crying like this anymore yn, we don’t do that here.”

age four is also the first and last time yn remembers being held by her mother.

it was also the last time she remembers fully crying.

age four the standard was officially introduced to her.

yn thanked her father as he passed her a second piece of bread. "jae, pass me the butter, please."

"you're having another piece of bread?" her brother asked with a grin. "slow down on the carbs, yn."

"pass your sister the butter," their father said sternly. jae immediately quieted his laughter and slid the butter over to yn.

daeun gave jae hard nudge, “leave yn alone it’s not her fault she’s menstruating.”

yn's mouth dropped open as her brothers laughed. She looked at her mother with a betrayed expression. "you told them?"

"I had to," her mother shrugged, cutting the beef on her plate. "they might have been concerned about why you're eating so much."

yn pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek. ehen she realized she was having her first period, she wanted to go to her dad, but what could he do? she knew she had to go to her mother, even if it made her uncomfortable

“yn is always eating though, especially this year.” jae said, “even the maid brings her snacks.”

“always snacking and writing those poems.”

"can you shut up, lardass?" yn snapped, getting ready to lunge over the large dinner table.

"leave your sister alone," their father said, taking a sip of his wine.

silence fills the table for their mother speaks up, “actually yn, I got your dress in a size four.”

yn looked up from her now abandoned bread confused, “size four? I’m a size eight though.”

“I know.” her mom shrugs, “I feel like you can be a little smaller, it would make you look attractive.”

“why does my ten year old sister need to be attractive?” daeun asked in a joking manner.

“you know what I mean.” their mother said before looking at yn, “you need to slim down a little honey, cut out some things.”

“can you two talk about this on your little girl hangouts.” jae cut in.

yn scoffed, “what girl hangouts.” she muttered to herself, her mother barely talks to her much less have girl hangouts, “may I be excused?” she looked at her father who nodded his head.

“where are you going?”

“the washroom.”

it had been two months since that dinner, yn stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom. her size four dress fitting perfectly.

“see,” her mother started, “you look so beautiful, size four is the size for you, I’m glad you took my advice on cutting out some food.”

yn stayed silent just look at herself in the mirror, she looked up at the ceiling as she felt the back of her eyes start the burn, the water threatening to spill out.

“are still sick?” she turned to look at jae and daeun who entered the room that their mother had exited.

“she was sick?” daeun asked look at his younger sister who sat her vanity, looking through her expensive perfumes.

“yeah for like the past two months.” jae said, “sometimes after dinner I would hear her throw up like crazy in the washroom.”

daeun raised his brow at yn who barley acknowledged jae’s words.

“can you guys tell dad I’ll be downstairs in a second.”

"Sure," jae said, tugging daeun along with him. daeun looked back at yn before shaking his head and following Jae out of the room. along with him.

there’s a reason yn will always remember the age ten.

XIV

the starting of age fourteen was weird for yn.

jae was eighteen and daeun was twenty , they were barely in the house these days cause they were making their way through training for the family name, they were slowly becoming more and more important to the family business.

while yn was stuck at in the big mansion she called home, her father was also out of the house, always at meetings and press conferences and if the boys are out the house her mother is also out the house.

so yn was really alone.

and she wanted out.

she was tired of the same routine, waking up, going to school, coming home, sleeping.

she laid on her big pink bed, humming along to the lyrics of hoot by girls generation that came from her cd player, she owned every album from the girl group.

yn loved music, she loved the singing, dancing and rapping, she could totally see her self doing that for living.

wait…

isn’t sm entertainment holding auditions…

today.

she jumped up from her bed and and ran down the marble steps of her house while she called her dad.

“hey daddy! I’m going out, where? oh nothing just want to get some fresh air, I won’t leave the gated community I promise.”

she knew if she called the chauffeur to drive her, he would tell her dad. yn huffed as she adjusted her skirt and her pink chanel sweater. she slipped on her Mary janes and turned off her phone.

she was going to have to make a run for it.

yn has never ran like this in her life, her father would kill her if he found out she was doing this but it felt so right.

she ran and ran until she was right in front of the recognizable building, sm entertainment.

she walked in to see a woman standing there with a paper in her hand, she look at yn and raised a brow, “hi! are you hear for auditions?”

“yes,” yn nodded her head, adjusting her sweater, “yes, I am.”

the woman scanned yn’s expensive attire, “really?”

“yes.” yn stated firmly, she could sense the woman’s thoughts, and if there’s one thing her father has always thought her, is to not let people underestimate you, she was above them. “is there a problem?”

yn adjusted her sweater even more, showing off the costum family crest that was sown into her sweater, causing the woman’s eyes the widen.

“oh nothing, the audition rooms is down this way.” the woman says gesturing down the hall, yn’s stern face melted into a kinda smile.

“thank you.” she said before walking down the hall.

as she walked she saw a line of people leaning on the wall beside the room.

yn made her way to join the line, standing beside a girl with bangs.

the girl looked at yn and smiled, “are you nervous?”

“this was kinda a rushed idea, so I don’t know how I feel yet.” yn said looking down at her mary jane’s.

the girl laughed and scanned over yn, “hey what’s up that that logo thing, I’ve seen it everywhere since i’ve been in korea.”

yn looked at the crest, “oh, it’s my family crest.”

“that’s cool, so your family is pretty big huh?”

“I guess who can say that,” yn said before looking at the backpack the girl had, “can you actually do me a favour.”

“depends on the favour.”

“can I put my sweater in your bag? and take it out after the auditions.”

“sure!”

yn unzipped her sweater while the girl opened her bag and stuffed it inside, “thank you so much.”

“no problem.” the girl says before looking at the shirt, “ I like your shirt.”

“thanks, it’s miumiu.”

“that sounds expensive, I’m yizhuo.”

“I’m yn.”

“good luck yn.”

“good luck to you too yizhuo.”

the girls stood in line for about an hour, yn listened to yizhuo talk off her ear about if they both made it into sm all the way until it yizhuo‘s turn.

yn looked at the time on her watch, her family wouldn’t be home for another couple hours, she should be able to get home on time , hopefully.

she watched as yizhuo walked out the room with a smile on her face, mouthing a good luck.

if they weren’t there before the nerves were definitely catching up to yn now, she took a deep breath and walked into the room to see three adults sitting.

she gave them a charming smile and stood in front of them.

“hello.” the woman out of the three said to the younger girl with a smile, “state your name and age.”

“I’m moon yn.” yn looks at the three adults, they were scanning her face as if they were trying to figure her out, “and I’m fourteen years old.”

“okay yn, what’s your specialty?” one of the men ask, looking the girls mary jane’s, how is she gonna dance in those?

“uh…” yn didn’t even know what to say, this was definitely an impulse decision on her end.

“always snacking and writing those poems”

“rap.” she states causing the three to raise their brows in surprise, obviously not expecting the girl decked out in pink to say that, “I love rapping.” she lied.

“show us you skills.” the woman said causing yn to mentally curse herself.

she looked deep into the back of her mind to find one of her writings, shaking off her nerves she recited something she wrote a while ago, her flow becoming better as she went on, trying her best to free style.

as she finished the woman nodded her head impressed, “did you write that yourself?” she asked writing on the paper in front of her.

“yes.”

one of the men hummed nodding his head, “now what song are you performing for us today?”

I guess her days of memorizing and singing girls generation songs and choreography is finally gonna pay off.

“I will be singing into the new world.” yn says shaking out her nerves.

the three nodded their heads surprised, this girl kept surprising them.

“let’s hear you.”

as yn started, all she did was think of the words her family members would tell her, to always show confidence, to show people that you’re better, and that’s what she did.

once she finished, she put her hand on her chest to smooth out her breathing, she can’t believe she just did that, the only time she’s done something like this was in the comfort of her big bedroom.

“thank you yn, you will definitely be hearing back from us.” the woman said to the girl who smiled and thanked them.

yn was about to rush out the room but was stopped by one of the men.

“are you related to the moon family, you look so familiar, like I’ve seen your face on tv.”

yn hesitated, she thought about lying but they would easily search her family up, “yes.” she nodded her head.

all three of them looked even more surprised, but yn had no time for more conversation rushing out the room and bumping into yizhuo, who had yn’s sweater in her hand.

“woah, you’re in a rush.”

“yeah, I have to head home.” yn said taking her sweater from yizhuo’s hand and dragging it on.

“wait can I get your number.” she asked handing yn her phone.

yn rushingly typed out her phone number in the girls phone and rushed out the building.

“it was nice meeting you!” she heard yizhuo yell.

and just like how she got to sm entertainment she got home the same way, she ran miles making her way to the gated community that she called her neighbourhood.

yn was about to make it through her gate, when she heard a familiar sounding car, she immediately ran to the back of the house and climbed the tall fence falling to the ground with a big thud.

she didn’t have time to whine about the pain and ran towards the outdoor stairs that lead to the balcony of her bedroom.

she slide open the clear sliding door and rushed into her room.

she took off her sweater letting out a sigh of relief until she heard foot steps heading towards her room, she threw the sweater across the room and jumped on her bed right on her stomach.

her bedroom door opened to reveal daeun, “dad wants to talk to you.” he said before closing her door.

yn felt a nervous feeling bubbling in her stomach as she got up from her bed and out her bedroom.

it was silent as she went down the stairs to find her father standing at the end of the stairs looking at her with a stern face.

“have a nice walk around the neighborhood?” he looked at yn who laughed nervously.

“yeah I got back an hour ago.” she lied forcing a smile.

“come with me.”

yn nervously followed her father into the dining area where the rest of her family sat staring down at her.

“sit.”

she sat beside jae who side eyed her before looking at their father, she hasn’t had much of an relationship with her brothers now that they’ve have started officially working with the family company.

she could brush of the obvious favouritism towards them when she was younger but as she got older the more she resented her brothers.

her father stood looking at her as she looked down in her lap.

“look at me, we don’t look down.” he said sternly causing yn to snap her head up immediately.

“now tell me why,” he starts, “one of my associates is telling me that they saw my daughter running around the city and entering the sm entertainment building?”

yn winced at the sound of her fathers voice before looking at her mother and brothers that just stare at her waiting for her to talk.

she couldn’t stay silent, if someone is talking to you, you answer them.

“I want to become an idol.” she says quietly, silence fills the air after her words.

“you want to become an idol?” her father asks shocked, why in the world would his daughter want to become an idol, “no, I won’t allow it.”

yn inched up in her chair looking at her father with pleading eyes, “come on dad, just look at it, if I debut and I have a perfect idol image, everyone will praise you for raising such a good daughter and bringing a good image to the family name.”

her father looks at her processing her words the look on his face made her hopeful, “I’ll be the best trainee to exist, I’ll be at the top of everything, I’ll be better than everyone, I’ll show them that the moon family is multi talented and not to be underestimated.”

there’s more silence.

“you’re gonna be at the top of everything, if you aren’t number one of everything I will take you out.” he says looking at yn who couldn’t fight her smile but dropped it immediately.

“thank you.” she replied in a level toned as her father just nodded in response.

“go to your room.”

she rushed out the dinning room and up the stairs to her room, as soon as she closed her door a smile broke onto a big smile.

she heard buzzing from her phone only to see an unknown number.

hey it’s yizhuo, I really hope we get to train together, wanna call rich girl ?

yn couldn’t help but playfully roll her at the nickname before typing out a sure.

she spent the whole night on the phone with yizhuo, she had never talked to a person like how she talked to her, she felt relaxed.

if she gets into sm she really hopes yizhuo gets in as well.

and her hopes came through.

yn squealed on the phone as her and yizhuo opened their letters at the same time, both of them being accepted into sm entertainment, meaning they’ll be training together.

yn will never forget fourteen.

XVI

age sixteen, was a age full of accomplishments and hardships.

she was number one for every single monthly evaluation since she started training at fourteen, living up to her promises she had made to her father.

the compliments that the trainers and senior idols that visited the trainees would say to her felt good, she had grown a passion for the little lie she made in her auditions she loved rapping, it was what she felt comfortable with.

but under all the accomplishments she has had, there was a girl who wanted to burst into tears everyday.

her father really took her words to heart about her being better than everyone, he told the company to make sure yn trained on her own in another practice room, making her isolated from the other trainees.

after a year yizhuo and her stoped texting and calling each other, yn’s head was full of training and being the best that she has barely paid attention to her phone.

she thrived in the praises her father would throw her when she would tell him that she hadn’t slept because she was training so much.

his thats my girls made her feel like she was on top of the word, with her father’s praises she didn’t need friends she didn’t want friends. all she wanted was to make him proud, maybe even have her mother finally notice her.

the other trainees would call her untouchable, and not in a good way she was pretty stuck up in their eyes, with her rich girl mentalities. when she was in the same room as them the aura always shifted she never laughed at jokes, she never cried at harsh feedback, she was always stone cold, when people tried to talk to her she would always say something shady and mean and walk off.

but she somehow came on top every time, even with her in their opinion shitty attitude.

she was like a robot, some of them wondered how she didn’t get tired.

but oh she did.

it was was five am and yn was currently passed out on the practice floor, she had been practicing since the early morning before with zero breaks, she didn’t remember the last time she had eaten anything but that didn’t matter when she was practicing.

voices were heard outside the door but yn didn’t even flinch completely out like a light.

“I never saw her leave yesterday.”

“why do you care yizhuo? didn’t she stop talking to you.”

“yeah but… I’m just worried.”

“is the door locked.”

“I don’t think so.”

“let’s check on her.”

the door creaked open and gasps filled the air, yizhuo and two other trainees jimin and minjeong ran over to yn’s passed out body.

“yn!” yizhuo shaking the girl who could barely open her eyes at the action.

yn tried to open her eyes fully but it was so difficult, she felt yizhuo pull her up to lean against her, “jimin unnie give her your water.”

jimin pulled the water bottle out her backpack and handed it to yizhuo who had to force the water in yn’s mouth since the girl could barely grip anything with how weak she was.

yn leaned against yizhuo as silence filled the air, the three girls looked at her with concern as she attempted to sit up.

“this is humiliating.” yn mumbled to herself as she looked at the three girls with red eyes.

“what happened?” jimin asked looking at the girl that she always thought was at the top of the world who currently looked like she fell off the top of the world.

“I don’t know,” yn said trying her best to keep eye contact with the older girl, “I was practicing and then I wasn’t.”

“you’ve been practicing since yesterday?” minjeong asked the girl shocked, she didn’t have much of an opinion on yn like how the other trainees did, she thought the girl was hard working to be honest, but now maybe a little too hard working, “have you eaten?”

“no, its whatever.”

“it’s not whatever.” yizhuo said looking at yn, “this is crazy yn, you’ve been blowing me off because you’ve been depriving yourself?”

all yn did was lean back onto the girl, exhaustion surrounding her.

“I was wondering how you stayed in shape, I guess the secret is you don’t eat.” minjeong said mindlessly, causing jimin to nudge her.

“hey,” the oldest started, “how about we go to the cafe across the street and get you something to eat, for yizhuo’s sake at least.”

yn looked at the older girl before letting out a sigh, allowing her to pull her off the ground.

jimin had firm grip on yn who could barely stand up as yizhuo and minjeong got off the floor.

“I’m practicing with you in this room for now on.” yizhuo said dusting herself off, “jimin and minjeong unnie are as well now.”

yn side eyed the girl, “I don’t think that’s allowed.”

“I don’t care, right?” yizhuo turned to jimin and minjeong who hesitantly nodded their heads in agreement.

yn stayed silent, looking at jimin In shock when she interlocked her hand with yn and guided her out the door, she barely knew the girl but was already acting so kind.

“I like your bag.” minjeong said to yn as the four of them walked, she picked it up for yn when they left th practice room, “how much was it?”

“actually never mind don’t tell me, It’ll hurt too much.” the girl cut yn off causing the other three to laugh.

yn will never forget sixteen because she acquired three of the most important people in her life at that age, plus another a year.

XVIII

age eighteen was when yn officially thought it was the end of the world.

after letting yizhuo, jimin and minjeong into her life she grew a sense of freedom.

she still worked just as hard as she did at sixteen but this time she had people looking after her, there was also a new addition to the friend group a year later.

yn laughed as aeri took photos of her in the practice room.

the five girls were put into a group together, they were told that they were gonna debut together, yn was just glad that she was debuting and with people she considered her friends.

“no fansite’s please.” yizhuo joked as she stood in front of yn guarding the girl from aeri’s phone, “that’s how we’re gonna act like when we debut.”

“knowing yn she’ll pose for them.” minjeong cut in laughing at the three girls.

“I’m made for the cameras.” yn joked posing for aeri while yizhuo kept blocking her.

“yn your phone is ringing.” jimin cut in on their fun, “I think it’s your dad.”

yn furrowed her eyebrows, why would he be calling her?

she took her phone from jimin’s hands and brought it to her ear, walking out into the hallway, “hey dad.”

“hey honey, I’ve got some news for you.” she couldn’t pin point her father’s tone as he talked, “the company is doing a partnership.”

“that’s good?” yn replied not understanding why her father needed to tell her this, the family barely talked to her about the business, “is that all?”

“no actually, it’s with hybe.” he said into the phone while yn tried her best to understand why he’s telling her this, “okay?”

“meaning you have to leave sm,” he says nonchalantly while yn felt like water had been poured all over her.

her heart was in her stomach, “what?”

“yeah, you’ll be transferred to be a trainee in source music.” he says it like he’s reading off of something, “you’ll be guaranteed a spot in their upcoming new girl group.”

“dad- I’m already in a group- I’m literally debuting in a couple of months.” yn felt like she was gonna throw up, all this hard work, her friends for nothing.

“this is business yn.” her father said sternly, “I can’t have you in company that could be a possible threat to money.”

“but you said, if I stay on top of everything I can stay in sm, I’ve been number one for the post four years almost five years.” she argues, this couldn’t be happened.

“I said you could be an idol if you stay on top of everything, nothing about the company.” her father said.

“dad please.” yn said into the phone her voice cracking.

“are you about to cry?” her father asked sternly, “we don’t do that, stop it.”

“I’m not crying.” yn said looking up, “just this is so unfair, I’ve worked hard.”

“so have I,” her father replied brushing off his daughter’s words, “it’s either you move to hybe or you’re not training anymore.

and with that he hung up.

yn took a deep breath to calm her nerves and opened the practice room door to only be met with four girls staring at her like they’ve seen a ghost.

“did you guys hear anything.” she asked, throwing her head back when they nodded.

“I’m sorry guys, he’s just such-”

“an asshole.” aeri cuts off looking at yn with sad eyes, “so you’re really leaving.”

“I guess I have to, this was just dropped on me out of thin air.” yn trying her best not to burst into tears.

“maybe we can all audition for hybe and become a group there.” minjeong said look at yn who slide down the wall and wrapped her arms around her knees.

“no you guys have worked too hard for that.”

“so have you,” jimin said, “this is so unfair.”

yn shrugged she looked at yizhuo who stared back at her, she could see the tears rushing to the girls eyes.

she smiled weakly at yizhuo who rushed to her side and bursted into tears, “this is so unfair, we were supposed to debut together, now what? you’re back to being a trainee?”

yn and the rest of the girls hugged the crying girl, “it’s okay.”

“it’s not okay.” yizhuo said harshly, “you’re supposed to be crying with me.”

yn couldn’t help but laugh at the girls words, “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to convince myself that this is fake.”

the girls huddled together in silence, “he said I have guaranteed spot in the line up for their new girl group.”

“so I guess we’ll see each other music shows?” aeri tried to lighten the mood, causing the girls the weakly laugh.

yn will never forget age eighteen, it was the year all her hard work went down the drain.

XIX

age nineteen was the age of complete chaos.

yn’s year of training at hybe was a lot, it was draining.

she trained under source for a while and hated it, she met a couple of girls that she was in the lineup with for the new girl group, they were pretty cool but it wasn’t the same as sm, she was the oldest out of all of them and didn’t connect with the girls much.

she had to watch aespa debut from behind the screen while she was stuck in the source music practice room, she still couldn’t believe her father, she always had a feeling that the family business would be put above her feelings one day but I guess she didn’t think that day would actually come.

she still talked to the girls who were now idols but it never felt the same on both ends, they were supposed to be together.

her days under source honestly felt like they were merged into one, everything was the same.

that was until yn was told that she was going to be moved under another label under hybe called ador with five other girls.

the six of them were gonna be the first new hybe girl group.

the girls were sweet, it was obvious all of them looked up to yn as a big sister, they also thought how rich she is was pretty cool.

but it was like the world was against yn because as soon as yn and the other ador girls were getting closer and getting ready for their debut yn got a call from her dad.

yn leaning against the mirror of the practice room, “hello?”

“hey honey did you get then news?”

yn slide down the mirror and say on the floor crossing her legs, “what news?”

“you’re getting moved back to source.” he says nonchalantly, “tomorrow to be exact.”

yn squeezed her eyes, “dad, you’re joking right?”

“when have I ever joked with you?”

he’s right, “so what? just like last time I can’t debut.”

“not exactly, plans changed I was told that your groups debut was gonna be postponed and that another girl group was gonna be debuting,”

yn furrowed her eyebrows she was not told this at all, “so what?”

“so, I told them that you would be a good asset to the group, you’re probably the most talented and would bring a lot of attention,”

“so I’m debuting in another group?”

“yes, you can thank me.”

yn rolled her eyes into the back of her head, “thanks dad…bye I have to tell the other girls.”

as much as she didn’t want to admit it she was excited to finally become an idol, all this hard work would finally mean something.

it was weird walking into that practice room full of other girls that have been working together, she was the new girl.

“this is yn, she will officially be apart of the lineup and will be working with you guys for now on, we’re gonna try our best to help her with the choreography and help her catch up with things, make her feel welcomed, she’s a really important figure, I’ll leave you guys to get to know her for a little.”

she tried her best to ignore the last sentence, her family followed her everywhere like a shadow.

“hello.” she said confidently even though she felt slightly uncomfortable under the eyes of the six girls.

she gave them a charming smile, “don’t worry I’m a fast learner, I think.”

she heard a giggle come from a girl standing in the far right causing yn to raise a brow at her.

“sorry,” the girl cleared her throat, “I’m kazuha.”

yn gave her a smile “nice to meet you kazuha.” she says before looking at the other girls.

she nodded along as they stated their names before looking at the last girl who just stared at her, “and yours is?”

“you don’t know me.”

“no sorry.”

“I’m kim chaewon.”

yn furrowed her eyebrows at the way the girl said her name to her, like she had some sort of authority over she, she didn’t like it.

“I’m moon yn,” yn responded, she didn’t have to say her name, that was already told earlier, but she felt like she had to.

chaewon raised a brow at yn’s tone, “rich girl huh?”

yn narrowed her eyes before turning towards the girl who had introduced herself as kazuha, “you seem cool, wanna show me some of the choreo before we have to start practicing?”

yn hasn’t acted this stand offish since she started at sm but it seemed needed, she couldn’t just let anyone talk to her the way they wanted, that’s not what she was taught.

the girl smiled at yn, “sure!”

as yn let the girl drag her to the other side of the room she heard the chaewon girl say something to the taller girl beside that she learned was yunjin, “this is who we lost ruka to? a stuck up rich girl?”

she decided to brush it off, it was the first day, they would probably warm up to each other.

oh how wrong was she.

nineteen was the age things officially went both uphill and downhill for yn.

this is just a chapter before things get worse ngl

#richgirl!yn #le sserafim x reader #lesserafim chaewon #lesserafim x reader #leaserafim #kim chaewon x reader #chaewon #aespa #aespa x reader #chaewon x reader #girl group imagines

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shikiii-skadi · 5 months ago

Text

Most to least likely to want to have children:

INCLUDES: everyone

WARNINGS: talking about biological children, but no mentioning of readers gender

NAVIGATION: Obey me! Masterlist

Most likely

💙Diavolo💙 - He is the future king of the Devildom, so he definitely needs an heir someday. The thought of having a child with you, which is basically the embodiment of his dream, is something he would have never believed could become such near reality. A child with a demon for a father and a human for another parent, while also descending from angels. Having a child with you is definitely a big wish for him, and he can get rather excited and pushy regarding the whole thing, but if you do not feel ready for children right now, he of course would respect your wishes. But he still would bring up the topic quite often, almost subconsciously, in your everyday life. For example, after you helped Luke with something, Diavolo will point out what an excellent parent you will most definitely be for your future children, or if you walk past a store that has baby/child clothes on display, Diavolo would tell you how cute those clothes look and that he should buy them in preparation for your children. Divaolo likes children in general. He finds his role as a father very fulfilling. He wants to have at least one child, and is open for more if you are as well.

💜Mephistopheles💜 - He is from a royal family as well and will need an heir at some point, too. His family will remind him of their wish for grandchildren every chance they get. But also without his family's wishes, he also wants to have children. Until you came into his life it was always a distant destination for the future, because he has yet to find someone, who he wants to have a family with. But it was always certain for him that after finding the right partner, children are going to follow at some point. Although he is in no rush and will take it on more slowly if you wish to wait. Mephisto loves his adorable younger siblings and wants his children to experience the same joy. So he wants to have at least four children, preferably more.

❤️Beelzebub❤️ - Beel definitely wants to have children with you. At least two, so that your children have each other. But preferably more. Beel wants to have a big family, just like he and his brothers are.

💚Simeon💚 - Simeon is kind of hard to place, because of his position as an angel. Like realistically he isn't even allowed to fall in love with you, much less to be intimate with you and sire children. But at the same time Simeon is known for his behavior that isn't really fit for an angel and his tendency to bend rules to align with his own desired outcome. While it is not his first choice, he would gladly fall from grace and become a demon, if it meant to be together with you. Simeon is very domestic and he would definitely desire to raise a family together with you. He prefers to have one or two children of his own, so he can make sure to devote enough of his attention and love to all of them and you, of course, equally, while also having enough left to give to Luke.

💜Belphegor💜 - While it would be a lot of work and would take a lot of time away from napping with you, Belphie does like the thought of having a family with you. It appeals to his more possessive tendencies, while also appealing to his domestic wishes. Belphie wants to have at least three children, just like he, Beel, and Lilith were.

💙Lucifer💙 - First his answer would be no. He already has to take care of his younger brothers. But on one of his quiet nights in the music room, listening to some of his favorite cursed records, the thought won't leave him and the longer he was thinking about it, the more appealing it became. Lucifer does find the thought of joining both of your bloodlines through a child appealing. To leave a piece of himself within you for everyone to see. It's the ultimate proof of your love and that you are his. The thought of you carrying his child fills him with an immense feeling of pride and possessiveness. Lucifer prefers to have just one child, but he can be persuaded to try for a second one, if that's what you wish. But two is his maximum.

💚Satan💚 - Satan is a romantic at heart, probably because of the many romance novels he has read. He is fond of both ideas. Starting a family with you and seeing your love combined in a little being that reflects the two of you fills him with warmth, but so does the thought of the two of you alone together forever. But no matter which outcome you do choose, there going to be a lot of cats. Lots and lots of cats. You will have a completely cat-themed house. And if you do have children, Satan is going to dress them in all the cute cat clothes and accessories, he himself can only wear for a few seconds in the confinement of his own room, where no one of his brothers can see him. The Avatar of Wrath couldn't walk around with cat ears. He has a reputation to uphold. But no one can say anything against his adorable children wearing those. They will have cute cat-themed onesie, cat shirts, cat socks, cat ears, you name it. If there is a cat related article of something, you can be sure you will have it somewhere in your home. Satan prefers to have one or two children.

💛Mammon💛 - On one hand, he would like to have children with you. So he could cross off another thing on his list of things he was your first with. On the other hand, he is not in a hurry to have children with you. He is greedy and wants to have you for himself for a while before you plan a new addition to your family. When he's not plotting schemes to get your child to torment Lucifer, because Mammon knows his child would never be harshly punished like he would (but Lucifer obviously knows Mammon is behind it, so Mammon will still be punished at the end of the day) or using your child to make money (by having your child beg strangers for money, for example), he is a surprisingly good father. Mammon is fine with one child.

💛Barbatos💛 - Barbatos wishes regarding children depend on whether you wish for children or not. If you want children, he will arrange everything, so that he has enough time to help you raise them and to take care of you, while also making sure to have enough time to dedicate to his position as Lord Diavolos butler. If you don't want to have children, he is fine with that as well, it will give him more time to focus directly on you. He also doesn't really have a preferred number of children, although he would prefer it if you don't have too many.

🩷Solomon🩷 - He is very, let's say free-spirited. Whether it's making a deal with a Reaper that involves getting his candle extinguished if he loses simply because it sounded fun to Solomon, or any of the other things he gets carried away with because it might be interesting, Solomon definitely doesn't see himself in the position to put all that behind him in order to take responsibility for a child. Though he can become serious, visible for example from the responsibility he has taken on for the people of the human world, which is why his ability to take care of a child is higher than some of the others. Just don't let him near the kitchen. But right now he thinks he is too young to settle down, even though he is literally centuries old. Though eventually, he would quite like settling down with you and raising children together. Having children together isn't a must for him though. And to actually get to the children point, you will have to give him another like two hundred years.

❤️Thirteen❤️- Children were never something she gave any thought to. Even after you two became a thing. She doesn't mind children, but she also doesn't really want some of her own. It's so much work. And a reapers cave isn't exactly the type of place to raise children that a part human in anyway. Thirteen can find some joy in taking care and playing with children, but would rather want to look after Luke or any other children of your or her friends and family and give them back to their parents when it comes to do the actual parenting. She is more of the fun-loving aunt every child wishes they had because they will be allowed to do all the things they normally aren't.

🩷Asmodeus🩷- Asmo is sure that a child that is the combination of him, the most beautiful being in all three worlds, and you, the second most beautiful being right after him, could only be of exceptional beauty. He would definitely be interested to see what your child would look like, but at the same time, he is also afraid deep down that his own child could upstage him. He also doesn't like the thought of having to share you with someone else and the whole chore of having to take care of a child. Though while it is a nice thing to think about for a few moments, Asmo rather not wants a child anytime soon.

🧡Leviathan🧡 - Definitely no. Levi has problems taking care of himself, he couldn’t take care of a child. And he also has so much anime and movies to watch, games to play with you, conventions to visit, lines he has to wait in for the special prerelease of Ruri-chan merchandise, and events to play for special login bonuses. He can't lose his login streak he has upheld for centuries! He is a busy demon. And the thought of having to take care of a child and actually having to raise and guide them, scares him because he is sure he would somehow mess up his child. He also doesn't want to share your time and affection with someone else. It makes him envious, even if it's his own child. Just thinking about it makes him feel jealous. And he is aware that this feeling of jealousy towards his not even real child is an ugly emotion to have regarding once own blood. He feels pathetic and just rather forgets about any children.

Least likely

Bonus:

🧡Luke🧡 - The thought that you and your significant other could have children together makes him jealous and a little sad. Luke is afraid that you might forget him and stop caring and supporting him the way you did before. Luke is in constant rivalry for your attention with your children before he realizes that nothing has changed between the two of you and that he is still an important person in your life as he was before you had children. Now he takes on the role of the big brother figure, even though he would never admit it out loud due to feeling embarrassed.

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therealcocoshady · 8 months ago

Note

Lilly and Marshall go out in a public setting and paparazzi start taking lots of pictures and this has never happened to Lilly before so she’s flipping out and Marshall goes into protective dad mode

Author’s Note : thank you for your request ❤️. I always have fun writing about Marshall & Lily ✨. Here is the fic, I hope you enjoy it !

Protective DILF

Being pregnant with twins wasn’t going to be easy, especially when it’s a « geriatric pregnancy ». That’s what the doctors explained when they told Y/N and Marshall that they were expecting not one, but two babies. And as the pregnancy progressed, it turned out to be true : it was exhausting carrying twins and dealing with the symptoms. Marshall’s wife was told to rest as much as possible, even though it was definitely easier said than done with Lily, who was demanding a lot of attention. They’d been told it was normal, but ever since she learned that she was going to be a big sister, she tended to be less independent, seeking her parents’ help and attention for most things. Thankfully, Marshall kept true to his word to be there for every step of the pregnancy and he was as present as necessary for everyone. Since Y/N was put on bedrest, he was the one dealing with taking Lily to school, picking her, taking her to her various activities, as well as managing the entire household. Thank God Lily was an easy child with a good temper, because he had a lot on his plate. And he definitely didn’t need the drama that was about to take place.

Lily had been pestering him about going to Chuck E. Cheese. It was one of her favorite places and, usually, Y/N went with her, but she didn’t have the energy. Plus, their little one was really into the trampoline section and it was definitely not ideal for an expecting mother. So it now fell upon him and it did take some convincing from his wife and older daughters but he ended up taking her. At first, he considered paying to have the place closed and avoid attention, but Y/N reminded him that the purpose of such a place was for their little girl to socialize with other children. He ended up reviewing logistics with his security team, picking a day of the week where the place would not be busy and agreeing that two guards would be waiting in a car outside, ready to intervene at any moment should anyone discover that he was there. Y/N questioned the need for security altogether but he insisted. Call it a gut feeling, parental instinct or straight up paranoia, but he felt more at ease having security around. He usually didn’t bother being escorted when it came to everyday life, but it wasn’t the usual errands in their neighborhood where everyone knew them, so it actually made sense to him. If it were just him, he wouldn’t care, but he wouldn’t take any risk regarding Lily.

His baby girl had a blast at Chuck E. Cheese, jumping around and playing games. He was happy to see her all giddy and smiling, cherishing the last moments with her as the baby of the household. Him and Y/N would never neglect her for the benefit of the babies, but he knew they would have their hands full and that moments like these would be more rare. Lily was jumping on the trampoline with a few other kids while he was sipping on some Diet Coke, texting Y/N that everything was going great when a Mom came to him.

- Hi, she said with a bright smile. Is the little girl over there yours ?

- Hi, he replied, looking up from his phone. Yeah, actually. Did something happen ? Did she fall ?

- No, relax, she said with a laugh. She’s actually super cute. She’s playing with my son over there.

- Oh, ok, he said.

- I’m Sandy, she said as she extended her hand. Marshall, is it ?

- Indeed, he said politely.

- It’s so nice to meet you, she continued. I’ve been a fan for years. Mind if I take a selfie of us ?

She already had her phone in hand, ready to take the damn selfie before he could even refuse. She was nice and rather polite and, usually, he would oblige, but he was in a Chuck E. Cheese, with his daughter nearby and now was definitely not the time to take selfies with fans, regardless of how nice they were. He immediately stopped her with a move of his hand.

- I appreciate it, Sandy, but I’d rather not take selfies now, he said as he tried to keep his composure. It’s a family place, I’m with my kid, I’m sure you understand.

- Right, she said. Sorry. I didn’t know you had a younger one. Or that you’re married…

She was looking intently at his wedding band. When he made public appearances, he made sure to take it off (in fact, his team had an explicit order to remind him) but, other than that, he wore it all the time. He immediately put his hand in his pocket.

- Well… Privacy, he simply said. That has nothing to do with hip-hop, you know ?

- Your wife is lucky, she said with a seductive grin. It’s a shame that…

- DADDY ! Lily called him, saving him from the interaction that was growing unpleasant.

- Excuse me, he said politely.

He immediately walked over to his little one, thankful that she called him when she did. She wanted to go to the tube and tunnels area with him and he happily obliged. He focused his undivided attention on Lily and soon forget about Sandy. So much so that he didn’t notice her snapping a picture of him, waiting for Lily to go down the slide. About thirty minutes later, one member of his security team came to see him.

- Mr Mathers ?

- Yeah, John ? He asked. What are you doing inside ? What’s wrong ?

- There’s an… issue, the guard said. Someone tipped off the media, there’s about ten reporters out front. We need to leave.

- Fuck, Marshall sighed. Alright. Lily, come here baby, we’re going home.

- No, Daddy, I want to stay here a little longer, the little one said with pleading eyes. We’re having fun.

- I know bug, but we’ve been here for a while now, he said. Time to go.

He tried not to communicate his anxiety to his daughter. He could see the place’s staff at the entrance, no doubt talking about the reporters. The last thing he wanted was to cause a scene. He just wanted to avoid Lily’s picture being taken.

- What do we do ? He asked the guard.

- I took the liberty to call for a couple more colleagues, just in case, John explained. They’ll be here in ten minutes. Once they arrive, I’ll walk you to the car. I think we should ask the manager if we can use the back exit.

- Good, Marshall said. Lily, put on your shoes, ok ?

- What’s wrong, Daddy ? She asked, sensing that he was nervous.

- There’s a couple of reporters outside, he calmly explained. Remember when I told you about people possibly bugging us ? We’re going to go to the car in a few minutes, and I’m going to need you to listen to me, baby. You do as I say, alright ?

His daughter nodded, nervously glancing at the door. There was a crowd, starting to gather, causing panic among the staff, and it was starting to be noisy. He took off his hoodie and his hat and put them on her. He wanted to hide her face as much as possible.

- I can’t see, Daddy, she complained.

- Just keep these on until we’re in the car, baby, he directed.

When John told him they could go, he carried Lily and they attempted to take the emergency exit, though some reporters were there as well. They retreated inside, the situation starting to get on his nerves. John offered to take Lily with him while Marshall walked to the car with another guard but the little one protested. The noise was starting to freak her out and, as soon as Marshall tried to hand her to John, she started crying.

- Daddy, no, come back ! She almost screamed.

- Baby, it’s just for two minutes, I’ll meet you in the car, he said as reassuringly as he could.

- Don’t leave, she cried. Daddy !

She was starting to sniffle and panic and he knew he couldn’t leave her like this. He held her close and tried to soothe her, tracing circles on her back.

- I’m scared, she whispered.

- I know, he said. It’s scary. But I’m taking care of it, ok ?

His team brought the car as close as they could to the exit and he sent one of them to ask the press not to swarm them. They seemed to reach an agreement, saying they just wanted pictures of him and that they would leave his child alone. He hated the idea of being photographed anyway, but this seemed like a decent deal : at least, Lily’s face wouldn’t be out there. He would allow them to take a pic of him once Lily was in the car. They finally managed to step outside as he was holding Lily who was hidden in his hat and hoodie, face buried in his neck. The reporters were asking questions about her, who she was, if he had her with Kim, but at least, they didn’t snap any pictures. He stayed silent, though, refusing to comment. He was strapping Lily in her carseat when he heard a flash. He immediately slammed the car door shut and turned, only to see a paparazzi holding a lens way too close. He instantly grabbed the camera and dropped it on the ground. The man protested, complaining about the price of his equipment but he couldn’t care less.

- I hope you have good dental insurance, Marshall warned.

- You’re not hitting me, the man taunted. We already have pics of your kid, we’ll publish them anyw-

- LEAK ONE PIC OF HER AND I’LL FUCKING DESTROY YOU, he threatened as he grabbed him by the collar. NOW YOU LEAVE US THE FUCK ALONE !

The conflict started to escalade and his bodyguards had to intervene, to protect both him and the paparazzi. He was ready to throw some fists and almost forgot that Lily was able to see the whole scene from the car. John talked some sense into him and he got in the backseat, sitting next to his freaked out daughter, letting his security drive. He helped her take his hat off, examining her tear-stained face.

- It’s alright, babygirl, he said softly. We’re safe.

- You scared me, Daddy ! She said. You screamed real, real loud.

- I know, baby, I’m sorry, he said apologetically. But I’m not letting anyone taking your picture. Because I don’t want anyone bugging you.

She nodded and he held her hand for the rest of the drive, trying to manage his own anger. If Lily had not been with him, he probably would have made a u-turn and broken a few noses. Thankfully, his team was handling everything. When they got home, he let Lily watch some TV while he went to find Y/N, who was resting in their bedroom. He wasn’t too sure how to break the news to her that, nearly four years after he adopted Lily, the press knew he had another kid. However, it seemed like he didn’t need to. She was looking at him with an annoyed look on her face.

- You already know ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. News travels fast…

- I have nothing better to do than scroll on my phone all day, she sighed. Of course I know. How is Lily ?

- Scared but ok, I guess, he said. Managed to calm her down in the car. She’s watching TV now.

- Ok, she said with a reassured expression. And you ?

He didn’t reply, simply shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure how he was feeling. Pissed off, for sure, but also nervous and disappointed. He wasn’t quite sure how much the pictures showed, and where to go from here. How would the public react to him being married, having a secret kid and two more on the way ? Paul would probably advise him to put out a statement so he should think of what to say… he would have wanted to keep his family life a secret longer. The last four years with Y/N and Lily by his side had been so enjoyable and he wanted nothing more but to shield them from his fame. And the thought of the public knowing about his unborn babies made him terrified of the potential attention they would get, too. Honestly, the thought of living his little family to another country didn’t seem so bad. He sighed and sat next to her on the bed, before eventually laying his head on her lap. Y/N gently ran her fingers in his hair, gently scratching his scalp and he closed his eyes for a minute.

- I’m sorry, he muttered.

- Whatever for ? She asked. You’re not the one who tipped the media…

- I failed to protect you guys, he sighed. I failed to protect Lily… you should have seen her, babe… you should have seen them. Hovering like vultures, screaming, scaring her.

- We always knew it might happen, she said. I’m gutted, don’t get me wrong, but we managed to protect her for five years. Married four without people knowing. In hindsight, it’s a miracle people didn’t find out sooner.

- I guess, he shrugged. Still, I’m mad at myself… I scared Lily.

- What did you do ?! She asked, suddenly alarmed.

- I… lost it with a guy, he explained. He tried to take a pic of Lily ! I grabbed him and gave him a piece of my mind.

- So you basically assaulted a man in front of our daughter ?! Y/N asked, starting to get worked up.

- Look, I’m not proud of myself, he groaned. But I wasn’t about to let him get away with that. I simply grabbed him, I didn’t break his nose. No matter how badly he would have deserved it…

- Marshall…, she scolded.

- I know, he simply said. It fucking sucks. I just wanted Lily to have a good time. Now, I’m going to have to call Paul and my publicist… fuck.

- I’m sorry, my love, Y/N said as she kept on stroking his head.

They stayed like this for a moment, enjoying each other’s comforting presence, and Y/N finally went downstairs to check on Lily. She was fine, though she did mention the whole thing was scary. Marshall stayed upstairs for a moment, gathering his thoughts and trying to pace himself before calling Paul back. His manager had tried to reach him ten times in the past hour, leaving various voice messages, urging him to call back. There were good and bad news. The good news was that Lily’s face didn’t appear anywhere, concealed thanks to Marshall’s hoodie and hat. The only thing the media saw of her were her jeans and sneakers. The bad news, however, was that the whole thing had been filmed and that images of an angry Marshall smashing the reporter’s camera were being shared on social media at the speed of light. The response was overall positive and people tended to support him instead of the reporter, who was clearly at fault. However, there was a lot of speculation and even people who claimed to have insider information, making false allegations. They had no choice but to put out a statement. They had a conference call with their publicist, who suggested only giving the necessary information. After quickly consulting with Y/N, he decided not to give any details on Lily, not giving away her name nor her age, as well as avoiding mentioning the pregnancy. The statement would only acknowledge the day’s events, as well as confirm that Lily was, indeed, his daughter and that he was married. To him, that was enough.

« As the result of the publication on social media of a picture taken without consent, today’s events have caused a lot of speculation regarding Mr Mathers’(professionally known as Eminem) family life. Mr Mathers expresses his regret for how the situation unfolded, the altercation with the press having caused distress not only for him but also for the other people present at the location. Mr and Mrs Mathers formally oppose the publication of any media depicting their child and ask for the respect of the privacy of their family life. They also express their intention to sue any individual trying to sell pictures of their daughter, as well as any media outlet who might publish them. »

In the evening, a couple of hours later, the internet was in a frenzy over the whole thing and the confirmation that Marshall was, indeed, married and had a younger daughter. A lot of people were also swooning over the pictures of him holding Lily, obsessing over his strong arms and stern look.

- The internet seems to be obsessing over you again, Y/N mentioned while he was preparing dinner.

- Well I’d rather have them forget all about me, he groaned. I swear, I’m going to retire, just to get some peace. Or move us to the edge of the earth…

- It’s not so bad, she commented. They appreciate how protective you are. Also, calling you the ultimate DILF. I don’t disagree…

- DILF, huh ? He asked with a sudden smirk.

- Look who’s suddenly in a good mood, she grinned.

- I like that you agree with them, he said with a smile. Maybe you could show me how much, later ?

- Gladly, she said as she pecked him on the cheek.

He turned his face and kissed her lovingly. They were interrupted by Lily.

- Mommy what’s that word ? She asked with a raised eyebrow.

- What word, baby ? Y/N asked.

- The one you said. DILF.

- Oh… hum… it’s a word people use when a Dad is very attractive, Y/N explained as she tried to contain her laughter. Like, when they want to talk to him and flirt…

- Like with Daddy and the lady today ? Lily asked innocently.

- Yes, like Daddy and- wait what ? What lady ?

Marshall said nothing and focused on the vegetables he was chopping for dinner, conveniently ignoring the conversation.

- There was a lady who talked to Daddy today at Chuck E. Cheese, Lily explained. She was smiling a lot.

- Interesting, Y/N said with a raised eyebrow. Looks like someone doesn’t need my appreciation…

- Come on, babe. It happens, Marshall hummed.

- Does it, now ?

- All the time, Lily said. All the mommies at my school-

- Lily, baby, how about you go and watch some cartoons before dinner, mmh ? Marshall suggested to cut the conversation short.

- Ok, the little one said with a shrug.

Y/N was leaning against the kitchen island, visibly upset and pouting. He sighed and went to hug her but she turned her head.

- Thought you agreed with the DILF thing ? He asked with a smile.

- They’re allowed to think it, not to act on it…, she groaned.

- No one’s doing anything, he chuckled. Just a couple of smiling, very friendly ladies. What’s up ? You’re usually not as upset when it comes to groupies or fans…

- I know, she said. But this is real life. Now that you’re the one going places with Lily and taking her to school… I hate thinking about all of them making eyes at you. Especially while I’m bored, at home, getting fat.

- You’re not getting fat, he chuckled. I mean, you are, you’re huge, but-

- MARSHALL !!!

- It’s because you’re growing two beautiful babies, he continued. Our babies. No one holds a candle to you. I might be a DILF but you’re the ultimate MILF.

- You think ? She asked with a pout.

- No one ever made pregnancy look so hot, he said lovingly. If you weren’t supposed to rest so much, I would gladly show my appreciation all day, everyday…

- I love you, she chuckled. But im glad that everyone knows we’re married, though.

- Territorial much, Mrs Mathers ? He asked.

- Yes, she giggled. Very.

- I like it, he chuckled.

- You have to protect what’s yours, right ?

- Right. And believe me, I’m going to do everything I can to protect what’s mine, he replied as he put a hand on her round belly.

She cooed and placed a hand over his, when they felt a little kick. They immediately looked at each other and smiled. It was the first time they felt one of the babies move. Y/N’s eyes immediately filled with happy tears and Marshall kneeled to place a kiss on his wife’s stomach.

- That’s right, guys, he said with an emotional smile. I’m always going to protect you.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #Marshall and Lily

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hhoneyhams · 6 months ago

Text

I Despise You - Chilchuck/F!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Features: Jealous Chilchuck, Fighter class Reader, size differences, and workplace crushes.

Warnings: Entirely SFW with some slight language :^)

The reader is referred to with she/her pronouns and descriptors, wears a dress in the fic, is a tall-man, and fighter within the party. There are no real specifics for appearance other than that.

Songfic based on "Daft Pretty Boys" by Bad Suns

Author's Note: This is my first time writing fanfiction for others to lay their eyes on in a very, very long time. I've had a blast writing this for the last few days and I'm excited to write more for Chilchuck and Dungeon Meshi!

The dwindling embers of the camp’s fire lit the dungeon with a warm, orange glow. A sense of electric excitement had infected the late-night conversation amongst the party members, some chattering excitedly about their plans for the next few days on the surface and others silently planning their next moves.

“Laios and Falin are planning on heading up to go take care of some business, but I think I’m ready for some pleasure!” you laugh out, taking the last swig of the drink in your glass. You set it down with an aggressive click, the sound jerking Chilchuck from his reverie beside you. The two of you had grown rather close over your shared drinking habits, often staying up into the wee hours drinking and chatting amongst yourselves.

Chilchuck furrows his brow at you and scowls slightly.

“You can keep that to yourself,” he scoffs, turning back to the meager portion of food he had been chasing around his plate for a while.

“Wellllll…you of all people should know there’s no greater pleasure than a cold drink and some hot, greasy, fried food,” you relent. Chilchuck’s stomach growls and he groans. “Other pleasures usually follow~”

“Like being chained to the toilet and dealing with your needy, drunk ass all night?” he questions, brushing off the last comment with a sense of disgust. Your nose wrinkles in response.

“Well, hopefully not at the same time!” This causes him to snort out a semblance of a dry laugh.

“I’m hoping we’ll wind up at different taverns anyway, I need a break from all of you,” the rogue raises his gloved hand to gesture around the room. Just as you start to jokingly pout at him, he points straight at you. “Especially you.”

Despite the two of you growing close after drinking together, he’s become exponentially rude towards you. You find it a bit confusing and heartbreaking at times but understand that it’s not like him to get personal with party members.

“Jeez, ‘Chuck, tell me how you really feel,”

—

The party disbanded early that morning. You and Namari pair off together to explore the town as the Toudens take care of their prior engagements. The two of you regard Chilchuck warmly, but don’t bother to invite him along.

Instead, he went into town to a merchant to sell some of the odd treasures he had picked up in his travels in hopes of procuring a bit of extra copper to fund his big night on the surface…

He examined the money he had on him and sighed. It was more than enough for him, but he wanted the extra… ‘for what?’

‘Surely not for…?’ He’d put the thought to rest as soon as it crossed his mind. He stuffs the heavy bag of coins back into his satchel and heads back into the town’s square.

—

“Oh Namari, this would look perfect on you!” you gush over an embroidered cotton tunic that you found hanging in the window of a storefront. “I think they even do alterations here if you really want it,”

Namari shrugs, brushing off the idea altogether.

“I’ve got a clean set of casual clothes in my bag so I don’t really need to spend what I’ve got on that. We’ve still got to get a room, eat, and drink tonight,” she reminds you.

“Ah, yeah,” you respond, a little disappointed that you couldn’t go shopping for new clothes with Namari. She’s very practical as you’ve learned. “I still want to try to find something nice for tonight, if that’s okay with you?”

She agrees to go on and book a room while you go inside the store and shop around. As a fighter, your clothes have been torn up quite a bit from the countless dungeon brawls you’ve been in. Your pants are torn at the knee, armor rusted and dented in places, and anything white holds the telltale brown of blood. As your calloused hand snags against the soft sleeve of a light olive green dress, you find just the thing to wear.

You find yourself hoping you both chose the same bar.

—

Namari moans in relief face first into the down-y pillow. Her freshly washed red hair sticks to her forehead as she lifts her head up to turn towards the bathroom door as you walk out in a towel.

“What’s nicer, having a bed or a real bath for once?” you joke, flopping down on the bed situated opposite of hers.

“Both are pretty damn good, honestly,”

“I’ll drink to that,”

There are the telltale signs of a band warming up downstairs and the unmistakable smell of food that wafts up. She peels herself up from the bed and makes the descent downstairs to scope out the festivities for the night as you take the time to get ready.

Your body is still riddled with cuts, bruises, and broken skin, all of it superficial. Sometimes you just don’t have the tolerance to sit still and let someone heal you. The dress’s sleeves are long and off of your shoulders, and the skirt is long and flowing. There was nothing flashy about it, but it still made you feel confident and pretty.

You haven’t felt that way in a long time.

—

It’s no surprise that Chilchuck found his way to the tavern, the promises of music and the inviting smell of the food from outside drew him in nearly immediately. There were loads of people, a clear view of a dance floor, and plenty of patrons lined up along the bar. He was ready for his good time, sauntering in with a cool and calm stride right up to the bar to secure his order for the night.

His mind wanders to relaxation and the array of activities available to him tonight. With enough drink coursing through him, he’d take a shot at cutting up the dance floor. His eyes bounced between the locals and other adventurers that were passing through, not recognizing most. His eyes lay on a mess of red hair hunched over a table in the corner and he breathes a relieved sigh.

…didn’t he need a break from his co-workers?

“Oi, Namari!” the half-foot calls out, showing off a full bottle of wine and a food ticket detailing his dinner order. Namari waves him over excitedly and kicks out an empty chair for him. “You’ve got the right idea, tonight!”

“Damn straight! Got a room here and everything,” the redhead gloats, finishing off the last little bit of ale in her own mug. As she smacks it down on the table, she jerks her head to the side to gesture towards the other end of the bar that was in eyesight. “Someone needs to let ‘miss priss’ know that I’m not third wheeling tonight, no matter how drunk this guy gets her!”

Chilchuck raises his eyebrow and glances towards the scene in question, almost expecting an entirely different outcome even though he knew that you and Namari were sharing a room tonight.

You were perched at the bar on a high stool, your new dress draped down to flutter around your crossed legs. Your toe tapped along to the music as you were locked in conversation with a fellow tall-man. The guy was above average in the looks department, giving off a clean-cut vibe that you normally would not go for at all. His copper got you drinks, and drinks got him a conversation.

…NOT companionship.

He sees the way that you smile at this guy and he immediately knows it's disingenuous. In the dungeon, the smile you have as you fight alongside him is cracking and goofy, but definitely not tight-lipped and wry. Anyone who knew you would know this was some act.

Laios would call it akin to a mating ritual. Chilchuck calls it bullshit.

Your nervous glances as the blond touches your arm are darting yet subtle enough to be mistaken as butterflies. Your skin was flushed because of the amount of drinks you’d already had, not because you were flattered by any of the drivel this guy spoke to you.

‘If he calls you ‘beautiful’ one more time, things might get…ugly?’

He couldn’t tell if he wanted to smack you or the pushy guy that’s taking all of your attention. Chilchuck would never participate in the active harm of a party member, his job is obviously to prevent it, but GODS did he want you to get a grip.

Was he…jealous?

“Well, that’s annoying,” he says, not only saying it in reference to you, but to the nagging feeling now bouncing around his thoughts. He didn’t get into the personal lives of his fellow party members, openly detesting the idea of interpersonal relationships taking place in the dungeon.

But, this isn’t the dungeon…and you’re not working…

He takes a loooonnng sip from the bottle. Namari chuckles and claps a hand down on his shoulder as she scoots past him to go get another refill.

“If looks could kill, huh?” she teases.

—

The mask was truly coming off as the night dragged on. Jaunty music played as the bar-goers swung each other around. Every time the music dipped to a slower song, you were clearly not having it.

The ‘it’ being anything else to do with this guy. Dinner came and went, a meal that would have been picked clean by now was left growing cold on the bar as you dizzily weaved through the dancers to get back to your spot. Quickly, you scooped the plate and utensils into your hands and tried to make a break for Namari’s table. A hand skirts along your lower back and you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Need some help, beautiful?” Chilchuck sneers from your side, offering to expertly guide you through the crowd without much incident. You roll your eyes and glance down at the smaller man.

“If I hear that word one more time, I’ll probably go insane,” you complain, glancing over your shoulder for the creep in question. “You know, he tried to read my pulse to see if I was nervous earlier…”

“He was probably checking to see how easy it would be to skin you alive later,” Chilchuck says dryly, wiggling his fingers in a mockingly menacing way. You groan in response and wipe the sweat from your brow. Your fingers pinch it slightly in frustration as you begin to recount the events of the night.

“Too bad you didn’t want me to spend time with you, I’d much rather have been with you instead of going through all that,” you say, flopping into the chair Namari left behind and kicking your feet up. You end up digging into your food voraciously, the temperature is tepid but not entirely cold and inedible.

You get a bit of barbecue sauce on your chin, but not enough to where it would fall down onto your dress.

Were you really that tipsy?

“You realize that was a joke, right?” He looks away from you and out towards the crowd, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink in embarrassment. Your confused look was too much, an innocent shock washing over you as if you thought it was the truth.

“Well, you’ve been real rude to me lately, I figured you ACTUALLY had a problem with me!” you argue between bites, your tone indignant like a child’s. He scoffs and bites back a laugh, actually trying to fuck with you on this one.

“Yeah, I despise you!”

“I’m getting mixed signals here,”

“You’re a liar, you kick ass all the time in the dungeon and then try to act like a lady the second you step foot out of it. I’ve seen you covered in monster guts, and this is scarier to me,” He gestures to the outfit.

“Shit ‘Chuck, forgive me for wanting to wear something pretty for ya…”

“Well, you’ve already got my attention, you can drop the act now.”

You look at the way his face is completely flushed and it all begins to make sense. You distracted yourself from the half-foot’s hot and cold treatment, you curbed your expectations within your working relationship and completely ignored that even though he wasn’t one to share his feelings…he still had them.

“So, when I said that thing about ‘pleasure…’”

“I didn’t want to wind up watching someone else take you home…or to Namari’s room…or whatever! I wanted to hang out, to drink, and things to just stay the way they were,” he fusses, getting up from his chair and walking towards you. He tenderly grabs your chin and turns your face up towards him. Between him standing in front of you and where you sat at the table, you were nearly eye to eye…

Surely, this wasn’t…!

He takes the cloth napkin and wipes the sauce from your chin.

“I care a lot about you…and I don’t like seeing you make stupid decisions,” he confesses, still holding your face in his gloved hand. You find yourself having a hard time keeping a straight face. “...What’s that dumbass look on your face for?! I like you, I swear!”

“I’m drunk and this is hilarious,”

“You could say it back!”

“I like you too, ‘Chuck…I swear,” you reply, placing your hand on top of his. Your face cracks into that goofy smile he likes so much and he can’t help but to sigh.

…If only you weren’t in public.

The crowd at the bar had dwindled down to only a few remaining patrons, some at the bar were still engrossed in conversation with the bartender and others were finishing up their rousing and complicated game of cards. Namari was still nowhere to be found and Chilchuck shrugs as you look around the tavern for her again.

“She’s outside, surely,” he says, pushing his chair in. As you get up, you stumble slightly and grab onto the chair for support. “I’ll help you up. You’re still pretty tipsy, huh?”

“Yeah, but that’s what I get for trying to keep up with you,” you chuckle, reaching out to him for support. His arm supports your lower back, his hand is on your hip as he walks you towards the stairs. You were all legs and curves to him, but he didn’t mind as long as you didn’t fall on top of him…

…without his consent of course.

The other key to the room was tucked haphazardly into your brassiere. How it hadn’t fallen out onto the dance floor at any point was so beyond you, but you were just happy you weren’t locked out after all.

“I’ve still got to find a place for tonight,” Chilchuck realizes, forgetting about it altogether in all of the excitement.

“Honestly, I could probably hide you under the covers,” you joke, albeit rooted in truth. “I’d really like it if you’d stay though…”

“And incur the wrath of Namari? I like you, but not that much,”

“Fair enough,”

—

The two of you spend the night chatting and sobering up in each other’s arms. You fall asleep first, Chilchuck shortly after. The oil lamp’s glow lights the room dimly, neither of you had made a move to turn it off.

The door’s lock unlatches and Namari flings it open excitedly, a new longsword glinting proudly in her arms. “--oh you TOTALLY owe me now, but I got a great deal on the perfect longsword for-”

Her voice trails off as she sees you stir and another body that follows suit…

End Notes: I hope you enjoyed the fic! I've got some ideas for a continuation in the future if folks are interested teehee

I'm still working on becoming a more confident writer, so I'm hoping y'all will stick around for my growth! Minor edits will be made if I find any mistakes and constructive criticism is always appreciated! (Just don’t be an ass about it 👀)

Credits: Dividers by @/cafekitsune, cover art from 'Daydream Hour' scans

🖤 Rules | Ask Box | Masterlist ��

#dungeon meshi #chilchuck tims x reader #delicious in dungeon #chilchuck tims #x reader #reader insert #oneshot #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon reader insert #chilchuck x reader #my writing

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celestiaras · 1 year ago

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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ oh ver, my dearest ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by anonymous ˚₊ ⊹

ft. ver vermillion x f! reader — xsoleil, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ since it’s your first time, he promises to be gentle┊1.9k words

contains: smut!! dom ver & sub reader┊established relationship, mentions of ver fantasizing, mentions of masturbation (both ver & the reader), first time together & reader’s virginity loss, nipple play, fingering & receiving oral, gentle unprotected sex, slight corruption kink, some praise & body worship, pulling out, pet names (baby) & true love, it’s so fluffy, mentions aftercare

➤ author's note: good god this took way too long and i had to fight the urge for ver to call the reader ‘babygirl’ for the memes because it would ruin the mood

ver vermillion is your high school sweetheart who’s also your first in everything romantic: your first serious crush, your first date, your first relationship, and your first kiss. he’s your first love, like a prince charming from the movies you watched when you were little. he’s the man you can see yourself settling down with and marrying even though you previously never thought your relationship with the busy student council president would last this long. and, of course, he feels the same way! you’re the apple of his eye and he adores you more than anything, just waiting to stabilize your young adult lives before officially tying the knot. everything in your relationship is perfect with healthy communication about wants and needs resulting in little to no fights!

except there is one thing that he keeps secret from you, that being his physical desires. he doesn’t want to rush you when you aren’t ready or make you ill at ease about something that should be pleasurable so he keeps his pent-up frustrations to himself, making use of his fist and his seemingly infinite list of dirty thoughts regarding you that he has tucked away in his mind. unfortunately, it leaves him feeling somewhat hollow on the inside once he finally reaches for some tissues to clean up after himself. doing it alone relieves the tension at the moment, but it leaves him longing for you even more. despite these shortcomings, it solidifies his resolve even more. he is, of course, a gentleman above all things. your comfort and happiness come above everything, reminding him that your first time together will be even more special when it happens.

the importance he’s placed on this moment makes it feel like a wet dream when it actually happens, not quite the first make-out session you ever had but indeed the first time he’s had you under him like this with dim lighting to help set the mood. you smell like his cologne in his oversized hoodie, notes of vanilla and bulgarian rose mixed with the scent of your shampoo that clung to your damp hair. he ran his fingers through your locks to pull your face closer to his, deepening the kiss and pulling soft moans from you in the process as you hooked your arms around his neck. he was so close to you, bodies pressed up right against each other and making you feel feverish from the inside from want and knowing that you were being wanted.

his hands began to explore your body, reaching under your clothing to trace the outline of your hips to your upper thighs. a slight whine from you made him pull back to check in on you, “is this okay? do you want me to stop?”

“n-no, please, ver… i want…” you were so ethereal and fuckable in that moment that he felt himself twitch in his pants just by looking at your pretty face, lips slightly puffy and pupils dilated with lust. he always finds you beautiful, but something about how innocent you looked with all of your cute tantalizing sounds as you squirmed from his touch had him feeling restless. “i want you."

ver’s heart fluttered and he placed one last chaste kiss before resting his forehead on yours, “don’t worry, i’ll take care of you. i promise to be gentle.” he’ll strive to practice constraint to make sure that your first time will be remembered as romantic and intimate, a step forward together to further strengthen your bond. in time when you’re more comfortable though… he’s going to straight-up ruin you— turn you into his lovely little cock-slut who’ll beg for him so sweetly… but he’s getting ahead of himself.

he’s never seen you so exposed like this, his eyes practically glued to your chest and mesmerized by what the lamplight allowed him to see. whenever he almost catches even a glimpse of you, you would hide away calling him a pervert, but you can now see that you were right even if you were joking. ver was always a boobs guy, you suppose, bringing up his hands to cup your soft breasts just marveling at their size and shape that wasn’t hidden away by a bra.

“don’t stare…” you muttered, “it’s embarrassing.”

ver simply hummed in response, slowly raising your hoodie to remove it from your upper body and leaving you in nothing but your underwear. he turned his focus back on your tits, taking one nipple between his index and thumb before following his instinct to move his mouth to suck on the other. it’s such a foreign sensation since you tend to neglect your bust when experimenting with yourself, but you now realize how sensitive they actually are as you begin to whimper from the feeling. you’re usually so quiet because you were self-conscious about how loud you could get when excited, but oh, you sounded like a song with every moan that rewarded him for his actions as he popped his lips off one hardened nub to give attention to the other.

as nice as it was, you desperately craved more stimulation to soothe the aching heat blooming in your core— not even realizing that you were beginning to subconsciously not-so-subtly grind on your boyfriend’s thigh in an attempt to chase more of the pleasure building.

needless to say, this didn’t get past his observant eyes and made him chuckle, “be patient, i’ll give you everything you want in just a moment.”

“please…” you whispered, voice strained with need, “don’t tease me…”

his index trailed from the valley of your chest to the line down your belly before hooking into the elastic of your panties, pulling them along your legs until you were fully naked on the sheets. even with your lack of clothing, you still felt hot with desire. sensing your unease about being the only one nude, he took the time to strip himself of his baggy t-shirt to put himself on display to you as well— he really is handsome with his tousled red-black hair and unblemished fair skin.

you felt his breath ghost over your heat as he positioned himself between your legs, making you realize just how wet you were even though he hadn’t even touched you there yet. while your eyes were shut tight, his remained open to fixate on your face and expressions while licking long stripes along your slit to your clit. his hands snaked around your thighs to keep you still and prevent them from twitching so much, yet your hands were a different story and reached out to grab onto the sheets under you that were becoming increasingly more disheveled.

ver wrapped his lips around your delicate pearl and gently took it into his mouth, sneaking his slender fingers to press into your hole. it doesn’t quite hurt, but it’s certainly new and had you gasping as he slid a second one in with ease. a mix of your arousal with his saliva was dripping down his chin as he began to move his digits in a scissor-like motion to stretch you out.

“you taste so good,” he smiled against your cunt, his words adding vibrations right through your core, “such a pretty pussy to match your pretty face.”

your airy moans were soon replaced with outright cries of pleasure, your toes curling at the feeling of ecstasy shooting up your spine. unadmittedly, you’ve never made it this far on your own since it always got too intense for you to continue, but thanks to your loving boyfriend, you got the taste your your first orgasm— making you choke and see stars as you drenched his fingers and mouth.

he moved away (high-key feeling proud of himself) after knowing that he prepped you enough to take his rock-hard cock, looking at up him with pleading eyes as he whipped off his mouth with his forearm— not daring to look at the bulge that formed a prominent tent and just meeting his eyes instead. he pulled himself from his sweats and pumped his erection a few times, muttering words that were just out of earshot.

“are you ready, baby?” his voice was somewhat strained with want and trying his very best not to fuck you like a feral animal right now, focusing on your comfort.

the tip of his cock prodding at your virgin entrance made you feel nervous at first, but ver’s kisses all over your face made you feel more at ease and you nodded firmly to indicate that you were ready for him. he took his time to ease himself into you with a desperate sigh, allowing you to feel every inch of him while he came back down to your level to press kisses all over your face.

he wasn’t too big to the point where you thought he would split you open, but it was certainly enough that he had to give you a minute to get used to his size. your lower half was buzzing with pleasure, his cock brushing up against all the right spots in your throbbing cunt that you didn’t even know existed.

once you felt well-adjusted, you let out a shaky breath, “you can move now… p-please… keep going…” you were so shy with the back of your hand covering your mouth as you said it, but ver was about to gladly indulge the two of you with your permission.

“ahh, fuck, you’re so tight…” his pace wasn’t too fast, mainly because he was fixated on where the two of you were connected, unable to tear his eyes away from your pussy greedily sucking him in and making it difficult for him to pull out and push in. “shit, you’re so fucking beautiful, doing soo good for me..,”

all embarrassment of being too loud dissolved once he penetrated you, beginning to freely moan with the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing off the walls. he knows it keeps on crossing his mind, but god, you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting— seeing you so vulnerable under him and trusting in him for him first had him suddenly feeling full of love just as he felt many times throughout the years of being your lover.

he reached out to intertwine his fingers with yours as he continued to press into you, his pace gradually becoming more sloppy with every move of his hips. the now familiar feeling of a knot tightening in your stomach was signaling your second orgasm, clamping onto his hands until it snapped. he soon followed suit after feeling you contract and spasm around him, doing a few more thrusts before pulling out and spilling his seed onto your torso.

while he could have gone for a few more rounds personally, he knew that you were spent and absolutely exhausted. he proceeded to put on his now-soiled sweatpants properly and gave you another open-mouthed kiss, wiping off the bit of drool trickling out your mouth with his thumb. “let me run a bath for you, okay baby? i’ll wash the sheets and you can sleep afterward, does that sound good?”

you nodded weakly and gratefully accepted the bottle of water he handed to you after opening the cap, watching his retreating figure head into the bathroom to fill it with warm water and probably some bath salts as well.

yep, this was definitely the man you wanted to marry.

#📜. her works #nijisanji #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji smut #ver vermillion #ver vermillion x reader #ver vermillion smut #xsoleil #xsoleil x reader #xsoleil smut

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morganski-19 · 3 months ago

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Chills Right to the Marrow Part 41

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 38, part 39, part 40

“We’re back,” Wayne calls when he steps through the door. Holding it open for Eddie, who is insisting that he can walk through by himself. Which he can, his muscles are fully capable of that now. It’s the pain that’s the problem.

At least, that’s what the doctors say. Eddie’s muscles have grown back to the state they were in before the coma. He was fully healed from that regard. It’s what put him in one that’s the larger problem. The lifelong problem.

Eddie has nerve damage. In his legs, in his arms, and minorly in his abdomen. It will affect him for the rest of his life. There’s no official healing from this. Nothing they can do.

All that can be done is find ways to cope with it. Get Eddie the aids he needs for the days his legs are weaker. Keep growing his muscles, so they get stronger. Help regain his balance. Learn to move around with different walking aids.

But none of it will cure it. Eddie will never walk the same again. He’ll never live the same. His life is forever changed.

“I got it,” Eddie snaps. Pushing Wayne away. Forcing himself to walk on his own. With his crutches. A wince with each step.

They offered to let them borrow a wheelchair, but Eddie refused. Wayne tried to push, but there was nothing he could do to change Eddie’s mind.

Eddie slams his bedroom door, locking himself in. There’s the faint whisper of music that sneaks underneath the door. Loud and angry. Wayne’s surprised the radio isn’t turned all the way up, making the house shake. The last time he did that though, it caused Steve to have a migraine. The kid was too nice to say anything about it, Wayne was the one that had to remind Eddie of the rules.

This was not their house, he couldn’t just do what he wanted because he was angry. He could be angry all he wanted, Wayne was to, but he couldn’t hurt people because of that.

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well.” Steve stares down the hallway.

He shakes his head. “It’s a lot worse than we hoped.”

Steve lets out a deep exhale. “Dustin’s here, I’m going to give him a ride home and then we can talk about this before you go to work.”

Wayne nods. His body heavier than he left. His world a little darker than it was before. This wasn’t life ending. He should be grateful for that.

He lands in the kitchen, pulling a beer out of the fridge. Downing it faster than he’d like to, and grabs another. Savors this one. Sits down at the island and watches the condensation form.

Ten minutes later, Steve comes back. Grabs a beer of his own and sits next to Wayne.

“The kid ok?” Wayne takes a sip.

Steve shakes his head. “Came here in the middle of a panic attack because I wasn’t at work. Thought I had another migraine. I didn’t know he cared that much about them.”

“That kid loves you, of course he cares about them. He cares about you.”

“I showed him the book,” Steve says with a long sip of his beer. “We agreed to talk about it more often, so it doesn’t happen again. Hopefully that will make it better for him.”

Wayne nods along. “Hope so.”

A clock tick in the background, filling the silence. The only sounds Wayne can hear is the ticking, and the music coming from down the hall. He might be mistaken, but he can almost hear the quiet sobs Eddie’s trying to hide.

“Be easy on him tonight,” Wayne says. “It’s going to be a while until he gets used to this.”

“What did they say?” Steve’s voice sounds hollow. Already anticipating the bad news.

Wayne swallows. “He has permanent nerve damage.”

“Fuck,” Steve exhales. He wasn’t ready to hear that.

No one was.

Sometimes the world likes to crowd Wayne with all his problems. Wave after wave after wave. Never a gentle stream, where the water keeps moving. Where the problems spread out evenly, so they aren’t as overwhelming.

No, Wayne’s life gets hit by tidal waves. All of his problems coming together at once to knock him down and suck him out to sea. Making him swim back to shore, just for it to happen all over again.

“Yeah. We had to order different crutches, the ones that go around the forearm. And a cane. For him to have options. His muscles aren’t the problem, it’s the pain. The balance. He’ll need them for the rest of his life.”

Wayne finishes his beer. Gets up, had to. Because he has to be at the plant in an hour for a shift he doesn’t want to go. He wants to be here. With his kid. To go through this change together.

He’s run out of sick days and PTO. He’s run out of favors. Every missed shift is a write up, and Wayne is so close to being able to afford a house. So close to getting them a real home. One that they’ve dreamed about but knew it would never be a reality.

Now, they were so close. And there’s this house that he has his eyes one. That he’s two weeks pay out from being able to afford. If they take his offer. It’s so close.

So he has to go. He has to. To make their lives better. To get them back on their own two feet. So life can get to their new normal.

He gets himself ready for work. He leaves the house and does his job. Clocks out after eight and a half excruciating hours and comes back home. Drags himself up the flight of stairs and falls into bed.

When he wakes up, there’s an argument in the kitchen. He can hear the yelling through the floor. He gets up to go deal with it.

“Well stop hovering and we won’t have a problem,” Eddie yells.

“How was I hovering?” Steve yells right back. “All I asked was if I could get you anything.”

Eddie scowls. “I can get things for myself, thank you very much.”

“It’s my house. Do you even know where everything is?”

“I’ve lived here for three fucking weeks, Harrington, I know where things are.”

Steve crosses his arms. “Fine then. Go get it yourself. I was just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help all the fucking time. I’m not fucking helpless.”

“Fine,” Steve snaps. Pushing himself off the counter and toward the door. “I won’t help then.”

“Good.”

Steve brushes past Wayne. So used to their fights now, he doesn’t even care that Wayne overheard. He shoves his shoes on and slams the door behind him. Going out to clear his head.

Wayne sighs. This has been happening more and more. Eddie won’t take help from either of them, but he hates it more when it’s Steve. Steve’s able to fight back in the way Eddie wants. Him finding the right nerves to get under his skin. Hurt them both out of anger.

He was sick of it. There was a fight almost every day now. Over something stupid. Over Eddie’s pride mixed with his pain.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Eddie grumbles when Wayne enters the kitchen.

“Too bad.” Wayne crosses his arms, fed up. “I’m fed up with your shit.”

Eddie glares at him, tears in his eyes. He pushes himself off the stool, grabbing his crutches. “I said I don’t want to hear it.” He walks down the hall and slams the door. Locking it behind him.

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

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@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

#chills right to the marrow fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #wayne munson #wayne pov #outsider pov #eddie munson #steve harrington #pre steddie #chronic pain eddie munson

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rqgnarok · 3 months ago

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a house upon the hill - nolan price

love you better now (sequel, original work)- leave a light on (prequel part 1) - this work is prequel part 2 but can be read individually!

fandom: law & order, law & order special victims unit

wc: 8,838

warnings: conversations about ptsd and ptsd episodes, aftermath of a traumatic event. canon presence of injuries, blood, violence, weapons, and hospitals. female reader

summary: after being shot and waking up in the hospital, the relief of your survival is short-lived.

ao3 / masterlist / buy me a coffee!

author's note below!

The relief of your survival is short-lived.

You’re tired and in pain, the doctors slowly wear you off the meds and your answers to how are doing? gets shorter and shorter to anyone who asks. Your grip around Nolan’s hand tightens further every time someone comes and goes, and by the time you’re leaving the hospital the bags under your eyes are prominent, your cheeks sharper than they were when you first got there.

Nolan, the trooper, writes down and listens carefully to all the instructions given to him about your care. He packs your bags with all the things he brought from your appartment and the get-well-soon gifts given by family and friends. He doen’t notice you shifting restlessly as he struggles to manhandle the wheelchair, regarding it with distrust.

“Okay,” he says faux brightly, hands at his hips and looking between you and the wheelchair. “You ready to get out of here?”

Your smile is brittle as you nod. That should be Nolan’s first clue, how you don’t rise to the banter at the first chance of it. “Alright, come here. The nurse will kill me if I let you pop your stitches.”

Your jaw tightens but you go, holding onto Nolan and digging your fingers into his arms when you rise off the bed and your body feels like it’s being lit on fire. You curse under your breath and Nolan catches it, tries to meet your eye while you struggle to conceal how much you’re hurting.

“If you need a second–”

“I’m fine.”

“Honey, you can’t push yourself too hard,” he reminds you as if you don’t know. “This type of thing doesn’t heal overnight. We can take as long as you need.”

“I just want to go home,” you say, and it sounds so much like begging it makes you sick, makes you mad. “Just– can you just help me out here, please?”

“You just gotta–”

Your reply is biting. “I know, Nolan.”

The room is engulfed by silence. His hands tense where they’re holding you but to Nolan’s credit, he doesn’t let go, even if his mouth is now set in an upset, even line.Your guilt rises like waves but your annoyance drowns it out, and there’s no apology made as you finally sit in the wheelchair, exhaling in relief.

Nolan doesn’t let go until you’re settled in nicely, and even then he remains close; gripping the handles of the chair and standing behind you where you can’t see him.

You’re buried under two sweatshirts and a coat, but the lack of touch leaves you cold nevertheless.

Your almost-month long stay at the hospital has left your home rotting in neglect. Your furniture lays under a thin layer of dust and the dishes from your last dinner together are still in the dishwasher. The dirty laundry hamper is about to blow.

Nolan appears sheepish when your eyes inevitably go towards the chaos, expression unreadable. He’s got his arm around your waist and his grip is tight as you make your way through the apartment. “I was hoping for time to clean up a little before you came home, but I’ll take care of it, promise.”

“It’s fine,” you say, monotone. Nolan can’t really read into it, unsure if you mean it or not. Halfway to the bedroom, you dig your nails into his shoulder, pulling him to a stop near the couch. “This. Here. Here is fine.”

Nolan frowns disapprovingly. “You should really lay down.”

“I can lay down here,” you say, stubborn as always but through gritted teeth. “I don’t wanna go to bed, okay, just– here is fine.”

Nolan visibly disagrees but relents, his mind still stuck in the way you’d snapped at him back at the hospital. You unclench slightly when he finally stops touching you, body limp on the couch. Nolan tries not to bristle.

It’s the first of many uncomfortable, tense interactions. You can’t move around the house on your own and stiffen whenever Nolan reaches out to support you. You’re quiet and short when you’re not, trying and failing to keep everything polite.

You drive each other crazy. Nolan works from home as much as he can and you don’t work at all. No matter how much you beg Cragen to send you some files, your day remains sans responsibilities. There are only so many reruns of Seinfeld you can stand before you’re making up a psychological profile for each of the characters just for the hell of it before you realize you’re losing your damn mind.

“What happened?” he asks one afternoon when you don’t come out for dinner. You’re lying face down on the made bed, curtains drawn shut. When you don’t answer, don’t move, Nolan’s voice turns sharp, calling your name. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” you snap, muffled by the sheets. Your sigh takes over your entire body, pushing yourself up to glare at him. “Nothing. Fucking nothing. Cragen won’t let me back without a therapist’s okay, alright? But other than that, everything’s perfect.”

“Isn’t that standard procedure?” he asks, sitting on the bed with a bowl of pasta on his lap. Your frown deepens like he’s the one who’s keeping you locked inside the house against your will.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Do you know how many people I’ve seen get shot in this job? I don’t see why this is necessary.”

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” he says, quietly.

“You know how department’s shrinks are,” he has never heard you speak about psychological aid with such hatred. “But Stabler used to get a pat on the back and he’d be back to work within the hour. Go figure.”

“And look how that worked out for him,” Nolan says, the wrong thing to add, he can tell, for how you settle back into bed and refuse to face him. He sighs and speaks to your back. “What else did the Captain say?”

“‘You want back on the field, come to my office with discharge papers from Dr. Masters office,” you parrot in a poor imitation of Captain Cragen. “Other than that, he’ll be sending some paperwork my way. As if that’s the fucking point.”

Nolan lets the silence stretch, unsure of how to follow up. He flinches when you turn to scream into the pillow, raw and frustrated. You say, venomous. “Motherfucker.”

He leaves your dinner on the bedside table and leaves without a word like a chastised child, feeling like he’s walking away from something bigger than your wirldwind temper.

—

It gets better before it gets worse. There are days in which you don’t utter a single word and walk through the apartment like you’re haunting it; from bed to the living room to the kitchen, unaware or uncaring of Nolan’s presence. Others, you’re out the door as soon as you’re physically able, disappearing for hours on end, phone off to Nolan’s alarmed dismay.

He calls Liv, Cragen, Munch, anyone who knows you and has the resources to pull a nation wide man hunt until he realizes you always come back and it’s better to welcome you than drive you away by asking questions. Those conversations usually lead to one of you sleeping on the couch and your injuries are still a little too tender for Nolan to let you pass the night on that old thing.

One night he leaves the bedroom for a glass of water and finds you standing in front of the open window in just your pajamas. The air is chilly and your skin is covered in goosebumps, but it’s the look on your face that scares Nolan the most.

“Honey,” Nolan, bleary and confused, comes up behind you. You don’t even flinch. It wakes him up quicker than anything else ever has. Saying your name urgently, he wonders, “What are you doing? It’s freezing.”

“It’s fine,” you say, detached, not even there. You blink, staring dazedly into the night. You don’t snap out of it as he leads you back into your room.

When he asks you about it the following morning you just stare at him, blank-faced, without a single memory of the event.

To no one’s surprise, Dr. Masters gently refuses to sign your discharge papers after two months of leave and therapy sessions. Cragen takes one look at you and caves, albeit hesitantly, to reinstate you to a desk job as long as you follow the mandated breaks to talk about your feelings in an office that smells too much like lavender and vanilla.

You hate it. Absolutely abhor it. Dr. Masters, just like everyone else, wants you to talk about the shooting and nothing else. It doesn’t matter that your memory betrays you, keeping the event locked away in some faraway corner of your mind. According to her, refusing to acknowledge it is refusing to heal from it.

It leaves you short-fused. Home is a few curt words of polite conversation before you begin to snap, annoyed at Nolan’s placid attitude. Even the squad begins to lose their patience, you find yourself in Cragen’s office more often than not, glowering like a kid sent to the principal.

“Talk to me,” is all he says, not we’ve already been too lenient with you or shouldn’t you be over it by now? because he genuinely cares about you, which warms and enrages you all at once.

“What,” you say, purposely dense, arms crossed defensively.

“You’re biting heads off out there like you’re a suspect for a crime,” Cragen replies, no-nonsense. “You’re not in trouble here, I just want to know what’s going on.”

“It’s not on me that no one gets shit done around here,” you lean back against the chair, tense shoulders and sweaty hands. “We wouldn’t be so slammed if you all worried about me a little less. I’m fine.”

“Right,” Cragen says, waiting you out.

“You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me,” you continue, rough. “You can’t hurt me. I’m not gonna break, Cap.”

“Everyone keeps asking what I need– I need everyone to stop looking at me like I’m dead,” you say rushedly. You’ve started now and can’t bring yourself to stop. “I breathe a little funny and they’re on me, wanting to– to make me tea and give me casseroles that won’t fit in my fridge and ask me how I’ve been sleeping, I don’t need that shit–”

Cragen hums knowingly. Then, after a silence:

“How’s Nolan?”

You huff. “Fine. Fine, he’s always fine. Always looking for something to do. He’s cooked more these past few months than in our entire marriage, you know?”

“He’s only trying to help–”

“I know,” you snap. Cragen only stares as you pull yourself together, filled with everloving patience. It’s why he called you in, not to reprimand or punish but to let you breathe without people accusing you of doing it wrong.

“I know,” you say again after several exhales, closing your eyes and tilting your head towards the ceiling, avoiding his eye. “Just because he’s trying doesn’t mean it’s working.”

“Have you thought of telling him that?”

“Sure,” you snort. “‘Hey, honey, can you not ask me how my day went? I zoned out for thirty minutes at my desk and picked at my scar until I snapped myself out of it.’”

“There’s help for that, you know,” Cragen says. “I heard they call it therapy, these days.”

“Name it, I’m on it,” you reply, smiling wryly. “Physical, for anxiety, for PTSD. I should get a goddamned discount.”

The Captain doesn’t laugh. Neither had any of your therapists, for that matter.

“I don’t want to be like this,” you continue after a moment of silence, unsure if you’re allowed, but Cragen only nods. Decades on the job have made him wise beyond his years, sometimes even to his own detriment. “You– I know what you’re all thinking–”

“I’m not sure you do.”

“–but I don’t–” your breath hitches. “If I could be over it already, I would. This isn’t any more fun for me than it is for you.”

“No one thinks badly of you for reacting to something that happened to you,” he tells you, and it’s so close to absolution you could cry right here in front of him with all your coworkers at the other side of the door. You didn’t know it was something you were seeking.

“I can see how they look at me,” you say, quiet. “I know what they want, who they want. I just can’t give it to them.”

“What do you want?” he uses your first name and it disarms something inside of you. It’s an innocent enough question, but it reaches for your lungs and squeezes mercilessly.

“I want it to stop,” the niceties, people explaining your own PTSD to you. The racing thoughts, the breathlessness, the chest pains you haven’t been able to get rid of even if the doctor says there’s nothing wrong with you anymore. Not physically.

You sigh and it comes out shaky. Your eyes burn. “I just want everything to stop.”

Two days later, you mistakenly say this to your therapist, who throws the question back to you with interest. “What do you mean by that? What needs to stop?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, infinitely more annoyed than when you’d been talking about this with Cragen. “Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.”

“Well, maybe you do know. And that’s what scares you, what has you lashing out over the simplest innocent things. Think about that.”

“Oh, so I’m supposed to do all of the work here? I thought you said this was a partnership.”

Dr. Masters sighs, keeping careful watch over her exasperation. She writes something down, tries again.

You leave the sessions sans any breakthroughs but with enough recommendations to implement at home in hopes of finding normalcy in your marriage once more.

Try doing something together, the suggestion has you shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Have a movie night or breakfast together before work, host dinners with friends. Make your home yours again, is what I mean.

You try. It’s not a relaxing endeavor. God knows your work schedules suck even now that you’re both working half time, tempers gone through the shredder more than once. Still, you mention it to Liv and she suggests a double date kind of thing, and suddenly you’ve got a full dining table while a migraine inside your temples builds and builds and builds and–

“How you holdin’ up?” Brian asks casually, cutting off your racing thoughts like a record scratching. Your hands tighten around your fork and knife as you swallow down the urge to scream that washes over you at the question.

You think about the sleepless nights and the anger that comes out of nowhere, the inexplicable lack of patience directed at Nolan despite loving him more than anything else. You wonder if Brian would understand, having been shot before. If this is a good as any place to let everything out.

The thought fades as soon as it forms.

“Working on it,” you shrug simply. “Everything hurts and therapy’s a bitch. You know what it’s like.”

Brian snorts. “Fuck yeah, I do. Last time I went down I was so restless, Liv was gonna shoot me herself.”

“Hey now,” Liv says, but she’s smiling behind her wine and has a hand on Cassidy’s knee that inches slightly higher as she teases him. “I will say, going to work sounded like a dream just to get out of the house. You’re get better, though.”

“Hey, anything for the time off, I guess,” you say faux-brightly, a cynical twist of your lips that resembles a smile. “Next time I’ll make sure they shoot me somewhere less tedious, though.”

Brian scoffs and Liv shakes her head, but no one laughs. Nolan clears his throat after an awkward pause, obviously upset. He wipes his mouth with his napkin and leaves it gently on the table as he stands, avoiding your eye. “Excuse me.”

He walks away and closes the bedroom door gently behind him, the living room falling into uneasy silence. You pipe up with dark humor, “You think I’d get more time of if I was stabbed?”

The fight after Liv and Brian leave is a massive, unavoidable bloodbath.

There’s relief in the heat of it all, in a fucked up way. All the pent up agression you’ve been harboring finally has an opponent, even if Nolan doesn’t know he’s bringing knives to a gunfight.

“I hate when you say things like that and you know it–”

“It was a joke, Nolan, for Christ's sake–”

“Well, it’s not funny. For none of us, Liv was there with you in the ambulance and I–”

“Oh, please, tell me how I ruined your life by almost dying,” you scoff, goading. “Please, honey, the floor is yours.”

“Stop,” he says, firm, but his voice wobbles, and his eyes fill up with tears. You hate the sight of him like this and you hate to be the one who causes it. Still, the part of you aching for chaos, for emotion, can’t help but to press at the bruise. “I’m not doing this, I’m not having this argument with you.”

“You don’t have any arguments with me!” you exclaim in disbelief. Nolan purses his mouth in discontent and look away. “You tell me how to feel, what to do, what this whole thing has been like but the second I try to have an actual conversation it’s like your eyes glaze over and you’re fucking gone–”

“You don’t know what it was like for me,” Nolan snaps, tear stained cheeks glittering against the warm light of the bedroom. He hasn’t stopped crying ever since you came home. You hear him sometimes when he locks himself in his office or in the bathroom in the middle of the night. “Getting Liv’s call, the hospital, watching you like that–”

“This didn’t happen to you, Nolan!” you scream. The world has taken a sharper edge after the shooting, and all you can do is attack it likewise. “I laid in my own blood hoping someone would notice I was gone. I wasted away in the hospital for weeks, I am living a life where not a damn thing is right!”

“I’m drowning here,” your voice breaks, losing all its volume and vehemence. “And all everyone keeps telling me is how they feel about it, how I’m supposed to be getting better. I’m not. I’m not, Nolan. For the love of God, can we make this about me for half a second?”

“You,” Nolan begins, but it gets caught up in his throat, dissolves into nothing before you can hear what it is. Nolan shakes his head, adamant. “I’m not doing this.” He gathers his things all while you desperately call his name. The door closing behind him echoes through the apartment not unlike a gunshot in your ear.

That same week, Nolan goes to therapy.

He doesn’t tell you about it, just like he hasn’t told you about the past couple of months worth of sessions. He doesn’t tell anyone, actually. It starts when a victim’s husband loses it mid trial and lounges at her killer right in front of God, the judge and a panicking Nolan. He’s sure he conceals his feelings well, yet his boss takes one look at him and stops by his office at the end of the day.

“Someone recommended him to me,” he says while Nolan traces the dark blue letters of the contact card he just handed him. “I haven’t been to him in years, but he’s good. If you don’t think he can help you then I’m sure he’ll find you someone who can.”

“I–” Nolan begins and leaves it at that. It’s such a quietly kind thing to do for him that it renders him speechless.

“It can’t be easy,” he continues when Nolan doesn’t, endlessly patient, oddly personal. “What she went through, what you’re going through. I’m sure you’re both doing the best you can, but if you ever feel like you need more, well. It’s good to have options available.”

Everything that’s been offered the last few months; the casseroles and the rides to work, home, the hospital, a shoulder to cry on– it’s all been about you, for you. Nolan appreciates it but there’s something conditional about the whole thing, like he’s not worthy of help unless it’s somehow related to his wife.

He loves you. By God, he loves you with everything there’s in him to the point of ruin, but this– this is for him. His boss is offering him a lifeguard he so desperately needs, and it has both everything and nothing to do with you. He gets to be selfish about this one thing, and the thrill of it drowns out the guilt he feels about leaving you in the dark.

“Thanks,” he says, choked. Nolan clears his throat, hoping it comes out with at least some of the gratitude he’s feeling. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

The older man smiles, already at the door and saying his goodbyes. “See you tomorrow, Nolan.”

So Nolan goes to therapy. His first time on Dr. Rhymes’ couch he begins to weep before he can introduce himself. When he resurfaces from his grief, the man is offering him a box of tissues without a hint of judgement in his gaze.

He gets now why you come back frustrated more times than not after a session. It’s like pulling teeth, no matter how badly he knows he needs it. But it helps more than he hoped it would and the nightmares about your death slowly lose some of its gore. His once rusted instincts coming back to its brilliance in court after a week’s worth of full night’s rest.

He gets better. Starts to, anyways, but not you. In your dreams, you still bleed and bleed and bleed.

No one comes to get you. Liv misses the alleyway and chases after the perp, Nolan doesn’t call to wonder when you’re coming home, your gut pulsates with pain until there’s nothing but numbness, nothing but darkness, nothing left of you.

You wake up and don't know where you are. Your flail is purely instinctive, and despite the sharp pain that pulls at your chest you do so again, eyesight blurry, panic rising sharp and quick. Your entire body’s on fire but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter because you don’t know where you are and the perp is getting away, and Liv is still blocks away and, and, and, and–

Bleeding. You’re bleeding, bleeding out and your radio’s too far away and you can see the perp running but can’t hear his steps, there’s only your heartbeat echoing in your ears and the wet taste of death in your mouth as the world fades to black around you–

Sometimes you wake up from nightmares so quietly that Nolan doesn’t notice. Your eyes are closed and then they’re not and that’s all the movement your body can produce even if your heart is hammering against your ribcage. Other nights– nights like this one– you’re drenched in sweat and sprinting to the bathroom before your stomach returns the dinner you ate mere hours ago.

You hear Nolan fussing in the bedroom and picture him as clear as day in your mind; hair rumpled from sleep and eyes bleary, creased pajamas and worry lines on his features like he was supposed to grow into them. And he’s looking for you. Always, always looking for you.

You hate doing this to him but you hate having to go through it alone more. When you feel a cool, protective hand soothe up and down your back where your shirt sticks to your skin, you sob through your gags.

Nolan only says let it out, honey, I’ve got you, just let it go in different variations until the panic subsides. You focus on the timber of his voice, the roughness of sleep coating his vowels and the tilt of his consonants.

The bathroom tile is rough against your knees and your mouth tastes like acid, arms shaking with the effort of keeping you upright against the toilet seat. When you’re done, you fall back to the floor and Nolan is there next to you, ready to catch you.

He cradles you almost like one would a baby and you nestle against his chest, exhausted.

“I’m sorry,” you croak against his heartbeat. Nolan’s hand finds the sweaty nape of your neck and massages the tension out of it, hairs sticking to his fingers.

His soothing reply is automatic but no less honest. “It’s alright. It’s just a dream.”

“Not for this,” you correct, panting against his cotton grey shirt and reaching to hold it in a tight, shaky fist. “I mean– yes, for this, but for before. Everything. In the hospital and for fighting, for not… For everything. I’m sorry I’m like this.”

“Don’t be,” he defends, awfully vehement for a man who’s been awake for less than 10 minutes and is sitting on his bathroom floor at 4 in the morning. It’s the most emotion he’s shown since your last fight and you could weep with the relief it brings you. “Never be. You’re in pain. I’m allowed to want to help you when you’re in pain.”

“I’m tired of being in pain.”

Nolan’s chest shudders and you unclench your fist to lay your palm against it, the beat of his heart fluttering despite his calm demeanor. He shifts his hand to brush his thumb against your cheek, calming. “I know, honey. I know.”

He doesn’t say it’s okay or it’ll get better because as much as you know Nolan hopes so, it’s not the kind of thing he can promise. You wouldn’t want him to.

The sun rises through the horizon. Nolan holds you, holds you, and holds you.

“It’s stupid,” you say against your hands, hours later in your emergency session with Dr. Masters, wet and high-pitched. “It’s so fucking stupid.”

You don't elaborate. She gently goads. “What is?”

“It’s so simple,” your voice drips with disbelief, muscles coiled tight. “It’s so– it was one bullet. One second, and I’m– I can’t let it go. Why can’t I let it go?”

No answer, but you don’t need it. You’re already on a roll. “I’m okay. I’m alright, I recovered. I have my job and my husband and my life back then why am I like this? Why–”

Your voice breaks, a sign of weakness you’re done trying to hide. “Do I not want it? To get better, do I not want it enough? What am I doing wrong?”

“You have to understand, this isn’t something you did,” she sighs, leaving her notebook and pen to lean in closer. “Are you listening to me? This is something that happened to you, not because of you. Healing isn’t linear, isn’t that what you always say to the victims you encounter at work–”

You sniff, sharply wiping at your nose. “Yes, but–”

“But it’s different,” she finishes for you, leaning back against her seat. “Why? Because it’s you? Because you know better since you’re a cop? Because you’re not allowed any moment of weakness in the face of adversity?”

You’re rendered quiet, almost but not quite pouting after being called out so thoroughly. Masters continues. “You keep punishing yourself for reacting to trauma in an unpredictable way. Even that in itself is predictable. There’s no rulebook for this.”

“I know,” you say like you’ve done so many times since this whole thing started, but this is different. It’s not angry or sarcastic. It feels like a tipping point.

“This happened to you. You didn’t chose it,” your therapist says. Then, carefully, like she too is aware you’re on the cusp of something that you might be, finally, ready to hear. “But what you do with it– that is up to you.”

“You got handed this ugly, terrible thing,” she continues. “It’s yours now. And you can let it take over your life or you can take it in your hands and mold it into something you can live with.”

“That’s awful,” you say; tired, honest, terrified. Why should it be up to you? Why is it your job to fix what someone else broke? Master smiles.

“It is. It’s all work,” you say. “At least at first. And then, piece by piece, you make a life with the fragments from before. You get new ones. It’s not gonna be the same, but it’ll be yours. But work. It’s the only way out.”

It’s all work.

The session hollows you from the inside out and the day at the office is a blur. You get home much, much later, weary and exhausted. The sun is already deep behind the horizon and your head is filled with statistics and suspect heights, ethnicities, possible sightings…

Your eyes hurt and Nolan is already in bed, bent over his book with his glasses perched low on his nose. A lifetime ago he would’ve joked they made him look old, and you would kiss him senseless until they went askew and tell him he looked distinguished. It’s such an old, nice memory, both distant and right there for the taking. You get a little breathless just thinking about it.

He looks up to greet you when he hears you come in, tired but genuine. You think mold it into something you can live with and make a decision.

“Hey,” he welcomes you. “How was work?”

“I…” whatever your apprehension is, you visibly shake it off before focusing on Nolan with a sense of determination he hasn’t seen from you in a very, very long time. “I would like you to come with me. To therapy.”

“You… would?” he hates that he sounds so surprised. He places his book on the bedside table, taking his glasses off.

You look as uncomfortable as he feels, but aren’t backing down. You lessen the chasm between you, sitting on your side of the bed and laying your palm flat on the sheets. Realization hits Nolan like a slap to the face.

Here you are, the strange shape that is his wife after hell and back, reaching.

“I think… there are so many things I want to tell you,” you continue slowly, the way you do when you’ve rehearsed before speaking in court as a witness, presenting the case. “that I don’t know how. And so many things you have to say that I haven’t… wanted to hear.”

“But I’m ready,” you nod, grave. “To put in the work. Or– I want to be. And I’d– I’d like you to be with me, when I am.”

“We can go to Dr. Masters or– or I’m sure there’s some names she can draw up. Couples therapy,” you rush to say when Nolan doesn’t answer, desperate for his support. “Or– I mean, maybe you wouldn’t be comfortable with that, but I was really hoping we could–”

“Okay,” it comes out quiet. His nod, though, is resolute. “Yeah.”

You blink, a little startled and hesitatingly hopeful. “You– Yeah?”

“Yes. Okay. Yes, of course.”

“Okay,” you say, relieved, as if he’d ever say no to you. You laugh a little, deflating, running a hand through your hair. “Jesus, okay. Okay.”

A beat, two. Then you say, fragile as a baby bird, breaking the silence. “I’ve been so unfair to you.”

That finally gets him moving. He says your name, devastated. He opens up his arms, surer than he’s been in months. “Come here.”

You sigh out heavily, shakily. Standing, you move to his side of the bed and fall into his arms, work clothes and all.

“We’re alright,” he says, fingers threading into your hair. “I love you. I’m coming with you. We’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize anyways, crying into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, too,” his voice breaks and his arms tighten. There’s a kiss pressed to your hair that only makes you cry harder. “I’m so sorry, honey, for so many things. But we’re gonna be okay.”

It’s all, all work.

…Mostly.

“The files are on my desk,” Nick nods dutifully as you rattle off instructions, making sure your hair isn’t messed up by your coat. “Fin knows my notes backwards and forwards, if he tries to convince you he doesn’t it’s because he’s lazy, and I already let Cap know–”

Nick laughs, saying your last name knowingly. “It’s okay. Everything’s set, there’s nothing you’ve forgotten. Go have fun for once, will you?”

“Yeah, let us live vicariously through you,” Rollins pipes up as she passes by, an overflowing evidence box in her arms. “I’d kill for a hot date with a hotter lawyer right now.”

“You’d bite his head off before the appetizers came in,” Amaro smirks at her cockily, and you roll your eyes when Rollins predictably rises to the challenge. Behind them, Fin stares at them like he’s regretting all the life choices that led him to work with these people.

“You know what, Bernardo–” Rollins begins.

“Speaking of the devil,” Much pipes up loudly before Rollins starts humming the notes to the West Side Story score at Nick. You shoot him a grateful look but your attention is soon refocused on Nolan, who looks tall and sharp as he enters the precinct. “Good to see you, kiddo.”

“You too, old man. Hey, everyone,” Nolan smiles as he greets everyone else, though it turns shy when he acknowledges you, suddenly unaware of the rest of the room. “Hi, honey.”

“Hey, handsome,” you can’t help yourself, feeling young and foolish. “You look good.”

“Had to match you, didn’t I?” he gives you a once over, long and interested, and you’re so into it you can’t even hear your coworkers making fun of you. “You ready to go?”

“Born ready,” you wave everyone goodbye and then, as soon as you’re out of ear shot, you admit sheepishly, “I’m actually a little nervous. Is that weird?”

Nolan’s laugh is tender, relieved. “No,” he says, looking more relaxed by the admission with his arm poised while you loop your own around it, keeping him close. “I am, too. I haven’t felt like this since you kissed me for the first time.”

“I’m sorry, I kissed you?” you reply. “I very vividly remember being cut off mid sentence about serious crimes punishable by law because someone couldn’t help himself.”

“Our study sessions always were interesting,” Nolan agrees, grin boyish. “Ivery vividly don’t remember hearing you complain about it.”

“Only that it took you so long to do it,” you quip.

“Well,” he tells you as you go into the empty elevator and the doors close behind you, already drawing you in. “Who am I to keep you waiting now?”

Some other weekend, the day is bright and gorgeous and neither you nor Nolan are able to to stay in. You move your slow weekend routines out of the apartment for once, going out for brunch and bringing reading material that doesn't involve case files or suspects statements for once.

You walk around the city with a wonder rarely available to you lately and hold each other close. Halfway through the afternoon Nolan disappears across the street in search of your favorite coffee cart, telling you to stay put with a loud kiss to your cheek that leaves you giddy long after he’s gone.

“Hey, sorry,” he says breathlessly when he comes back, carefully keeping both coffees from overflowing. “They had to make a fresh pot just now.”

“‘s alright,” you say after a beat, smiling at him with an unusual shape to your mouth. It makes Nolan pause.

He asks, endearingly concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s–” you begin and then cut yourself off. You look around, calculating. You shake your head, hoping to drop it. “No. Sorry. I just thought–”

Your breaths come out short despite your best tries to keep the previous atmosphere going. Nolan places the coffees on the sidewalk and stands back up, already reaching. He tries to keep his tone even. Calm. “Honey. Is it okay if I touch you?”

“You– yeah,” you blink, almost surprised to see him. The words rush out of you with relief, like you weren’t sure you still had it in you to be verbal. “Yes, please. Please.”

“Come here,” it’s a relief to him too, both your answer and permission. He draws you in with a protective hand on your back and you shudder into the touch, breathing in and out slowly like Dr. Masters taught you. “Great, you’re doing great. I got you.”

“Sorry,” you says again after a while, back in your body. “I thought it was the street where…” you admit. You’re embarrassed, Nolan doesn’t have to see your face to know it. “For a second, I. I saw the alley and it’s– it was literally just that but I was sure…”

You don’t finish your sentence, drifting off, but Nolan knows you too well. Understanding dawns in and he holds you tighter, protective. The perfectly harmless landscape of the city suddenly shifts before his eyes and he starts to panic. He can’t get you out of here fast enough, but maybe if he tries… an Uber would probably be quicker than walking home…

“Nolan,” you cut off his racing thoughts, oddly comforted by the fact that you’re not alone in your freak out, even if Nolan has been rendered useless by his own agitation. “It’s okay. I was wrong, it’s not the street. I’m good.”

“We can go,” he offers, terribly disappointed that your day is about to be cut short but willing to do that and more for your wellbeing. This? In the grand scheme of things this is nothing. You were gonna spend today in bed anyways. “Or– is there something you need, do you want to call–”

“I want to stay,” you say, sure, cupping his face. Your touch helps him breathe, unclogs his throat and opens up his lungs. “I want to be here with you. I want to keep living my life even with… this. It doesn’t get to win.”

Nolan’s eyes burn, but his grin is too big for his face. He kisses you, long and deep and careless of who’s watching. It’s New York, its streets have seen far worse things than a man knee deep in love with his wife. “It doesn’t get to win,” he affirms, catching his breath. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

You grin, shaky, bright. “You’ve told me so once or twice.”

Hand on hand, you pass by the alley. The day is beautiful.

One night Nolan gets out of the bathroom to find you already in bed, frowning at your book. He passes a towel through his wet hair as he asks, “Is it any good?”

You only keep frowning. “It’s– I mean, yeah, but I. I don’t know.”

“What?”

“Have I read this before?” you ask him, showing him the cover.

Nolan squints, mouthing the words, then his expression clears. “Oh, I know. Did Munch give it to you?”

“Yeah,” you sound surprised. You hadn’t told him about John’s offhand gift, a tattered copy of a book he lent to you the other week. “ How’d you know?”

“He was reading it to you,” Nolan begins, then shrugs and seems to hesitate before he continues. “At the hospital.”

You make a face like you just tasted something sour. “Oh.”

“A part of you must’ve heard,” he continues, softer, searching your face for signs to shut the hell up. Other than the initial realization, he finds only pensiveness. “Must remember.”

“I don’t know,” you say, thinking of days so far away and so present still, sometimes laying between you in bed. “It’d be silly, wouldn’t it? That my brain chose to retain bits of a book I heard while unconscious rather than… you know.”

Nolan breathes in deeply, holds it, and lets it out. He tries feeling comfortable in the silence you’ve built as he thinks his words through. His therapist told him once that if he expected a fight to start out of a conversation then he’d start fighting before he realized what he was doing. He’s trying to be better.

“What do you remember?” he dares to ask. You tilt your head towards your lap, fingers running over the edges of the book to ground yourself in the movements. “About the hospital?”

Your smile is brittle and you don’t look at him when you say, “I didn’t even remember what had happened at first.”

“When I first woke up after– after. I still don’t, mostly,” He watches you, patient and encouraging even when you can’t meet his eye. “Like, you know what happened. I got shot and spent weeks in there, but I don’t– It’s pretty much a blur.”

You sigh deeply. “But I woke up and I was afraid anyways. Like my body caught up to the situation before my mind did and I just– I was in pain, and I needed to get out,” you retell.

There’s barely a memory there; of Nolan’s hand in yours and the sheer relief in his voice, the smell and sounds of a hospital that are too familiar in your line of work.

“Sometimes,” you begin, and that’s where you cut yourself off, turning to him and smiling, fixing the facade back on. Nolan rushes to stop you before you completely hide from him, cupping your face tenderly.

You meet his eye and you look afraid. Nolan can’t blame you, it hasn’t been long since he stopped physically fleeing the room whenever you even hinted at the shooting. But he stays rooted in his spot, even if just to prove you both wrong.

“Sometimes?” he goads, braver than he feels. You look at him intensely for what feels a very long time, then begin to relax against his touch.

“Sometimes,” you say, slowly, like you’re still expecting him to make an excuse and leave you to your feelings. “Sometimes I feel like I’m still there,” you admit, lip wobbling. “Just. Lying there. Waiting for someone to find me. To realize something’s not right.”

Nolan’s throat closes off. You’re not talking about the hospital, he realizes as his stomach drops. You’re talking about the alleyway.

“It’s what I dream about, usually,” you sniff. Talking about the nightmare is better than having it, but it makes you nauseous nevertheless. You breathe in and out, deeply, a couple of times before you find your words again. “I’m lying there and it takes forever for someone to find me. Sometimes no one ever does and I wake up thinking I haven’t left that alley.”

That’s where Nolan’s perspective comes into view. He watches you wake, though only sometimes because there are nights in which you refuse to bother him despite how adamant he’s been about waking him up when you need him. He watches you wake and draws you back from the metaphorical cliff into his arms and your bed.

You’d never told him about the dreams. This is definitely a first.

He does his best to breathe, to keep eye contact. He meant it, the silent vow he made to himself when you came forward and asked him to go to therapy together. He’s through running away from this. If he keeps leaving you every time you feel like this, what makes him any different than the man who left you in that alley, fighting for your life?

He does his best. “I don’t know if I can help,” he admits shamefully, out loud for the first time but for the thousandth time to himself. “But I’m here.”

You shudder with a sniff. Shifting closer to him, Nolan takes your weight effortlessly, like this is what he was meant for. That, he’s never doubted.

“We found you,” he continues, a comfort that works for him as he hopes works for you. “We brought you home. I know exactly where you are.”

You lose the fight and bury your face in his shoulder, shaking in Nolan’s arms for a long, long time. Crying, he can tell, but quietly. He doesn’t tell you to be loud about it if you want to. He’s done telling you how to live through your grief.

“I kept thinking of you,” you admit later, much later, into his shirt. Nolan closes his eyes, wrecked. “Of who would call you, or if you… If you’d have to… to come claim a body.”

You feel him tighten his grip around you.

“You were the first thing I recognized,” you continue, quiet. You’re toying with his shirt, soothing your fingers over the soft, worn fabric. “When I woke up, amidst all that panic, there was you.”

You huff a laugh against him, breath warm. “I don’t know if I’ve thanked you for that lately. Calming me down. You’ve always been good at that.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing much,” he admits shamefully.

He feels the way you shake your head, unwavering in your truth. “You do everything. You’re everything.”

“Right back at you, honey,” he says, and you hold each other for a very long time.

Halfway through getting your life back, almost nine months after the shooting that shattered your life to the ground, the team finds and collars the perp.

The same gun he used on you shows up in CODIS for another recent crime and you get a warning text from Fin less than ten minutes before he walks in with the suspect. Rollins is stone-faced by his side, both of them holding on to him despite his very obvious lack of struggle.

He barely even looks at you before he’s glancing away, bored. You remain unrecognizable to him but his features spark a flash of awareness deep in your unconscious and you’re excuse yourself to go dry heave in a bathroom while he gets processed.

Your thumb shakes over the screen of your phone, right on top of Nolan’s contact. You should just call him, you know it. You’ve done it before, and your husband would cross the city during rush hour and bend time to his will just to be by your side and hold you through the panic.

You know, but you can’t. You’ve been doing so good lately, finally; after the year from hell your lives are finally getting a glimpse of normalcy, and this– this is a Setback. Capital S setback, and after everything you’ve put him through… God, you can’t keep doing this to him.

You won’t do this to him. You call your therapist instead and hate every single second of it, hate even more that it works; forty minutes on the phone with her and you exit the bathroom with bloodshot eyes but with your chin held high and hands steady.

Amaro is the first to notice you and he catches your stare immediately, but he only nudges a tower of paperwork from his desk to yours and says, “You snooze, you lose, partner.”

“Dick,” you answer, your voice only a bit nasal. You’re so incredibly thankful for him that you could weep again right there and then.

You sit to get back to work, perp nowhere in sight, and bite the inside of your cheek in thought before you pull your phone back out, sending some rapid-fire texts.

Hey

I love you

You sigh and leaf through the papers, looking for where to start. Working through an equally ridiculous amount of files in his office across the city, Nolan’s eyebrows lift in curiosity at your texts.

I love you too

Is everything alright?

The three dots signifying your reply appear and disappear over the course of a few moments. After a while, his phone chimes again.

Rough day. Just wanted the reminder.

But I’m okay, I promise.

I’ll tell you all about it at home tonight.

Nolan sighs out slowly, and trusts you. Because of it, he watches you grow into your own skin again.

Your visits to Dr. Masters get less and less frequent and the damned paper finally gets signed. The nightmares, though not gone, lessen and don’t make you sick to your stomach anymore as you trace Nolan’s features in the dark to soothe yourself back into a slumber. You tell him everything, become more lenient with your resurfacing memories and in return, you hold Nolan as he talks about those days at the hospital and cries until he physically can’t anymore.

It’s so familiar and so, so new. You’re who you’ve always been and yet Nolan finds himself staring at you sometimes, amazed at the differences– a woman reshaped entirely by trauma and victorious over it nevertheless. Victorious because of it.

When you drag him away from the kitchen sink where dirty dishes sit after dinner, he barely puts up a fight. Nolan eagerly follows you to the couch and sinks into your embrace when you tangle your fingers in his hair, shivering against your welcoming touch.

You’re making out like teenagers– like you used to when you were in college– with no specific purpose until Nolan starts to forget himself. His hands are around your waist, squeezing unconsciously while you, on top of him, swallow his sound of elation and run your tongue along his teeth, wet and dirty.

Jesus, Nolan thinks unabashedly, and wants, wants, wants–

He nudges his leg between your thighs, pants uncomfortably tight, when you call his name. You’re pulling away suddenly, bringing him back from a daze, a hand tangled in his hair. Your fingers twitch with restraint as you look him over, pensive.

Nolan sighs, leaning his temple against yours and trying to get his breathing back into a less agitated rhythm. All he gets is a whisk of your perfume and the warmth of your skin, his efforts useless.

“Right,” he murmurs, voice velvet quiet. He’s still trying to preserve the moment even after your new set of boundaries. “Right. I’m sorry.”

You haven’t gone that far since– Since. Nolan can’t recall the details of the last time you were together, one random night the week you were shot. He didn’t think he’d have to, but now he wishes he had committed the night to memory; your skin under his hands, the sounds you made, how you reached bliss together–

“Don’t be,” you say equally as lowly, pupils blown, gaze ardent. “I want…”

You drift off. It’s suddenly urgent, imperative that Nolan knows what you’re asking for, needs to give it to you immediately.

“What?” he murmurs back, thumbing at your bottom lip, bruised and kissed. Your breath is hot against his skin. “What, honey, what do you want? What can I do?”

“Kiss me again,” You say. Then, before he can comply– “Don’t– don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop.”

“You…” Nolan says, shaking his head to pull himself together, attention still hazy around the edges. Your name tastes so sweet when he says it. “You mean…”

“Please,” you whine, and Nolan’s body reacts to the sound all on its own, hips subtly canting up towards you. You press your mouth to his jaw, tongue barely caressing the skin. “Please, Nole, please keep touching me.”

Nolan curses, both at your words and the realization he might not last as long as he’d like if you keep saying these things to him. “Sweetheart. Oh, are you sure?”

Your breath hitches. “God, Nolan, more than anything else.”

“Come on. Come here,” Nolan insists, turning to kiss you so thoroughly he almost forgets the point he’s trying to make. “I’m gonna do this right, okay? We have a perfectly good bed in the other room–”

He scrambles up and takes your hand, taking you with him. You surrender to him and he kisses your hand, the crook of your elbow, your shoulder and neck, in a rush and yet wanting to make this last as long as possible.

You laugh amidst your urgency, rich and lovely, cupping his face and kissing him soundly, rubbing against him. Nolan is a weak, weak man.

“I love you,” you say while he buries himself inside you later in bed, sheets pooled around the both of you, and looking up at him like you can’t believe he’s real. Nolan’s on top of you and he’s got your fingers tangled together; your hands pinned against the sides of your face. They’re points of steadiness as the tension inside him threatens to snap with each thrust, however small. “I love you, Nole, I love you so much–”

He’s not ashamed to say he’s crying when he finally comes, and you cup his face in your hands with a wounded sound when you realize. You kiss him as you finally let yourself go and it tastes like victory. Like work; like blood, sweat and tears. It feels like being yourself, added scars and all, Nolan’s warmth a steady, sure thing against your side.

started this over a year ago and it's finally yours!!! sorry i've been so absent, i've been having the worst writer's block of my life lol but i hope you love this as much as i do! let me know what you think and i hope you see more from me in the next months! thanks for reading <3

#nolan price x reader #leo writes #nolan price #hugh dancy #law & order #law and order #svu #svu x reader #reader insert #olivia benson #nick amaro #amanda rollins #john munch #donald cragen #fin tutuola #svu imagine #one shot #law and order x reader

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bitterrobin · 6 months ago

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Either I make multiple housekeeper ocs for my au or at least half of Wayne Manor is kept boarded up indefinitely. Sorry to burst people's bubbles but there is no conceivable way Alfred by himself is cleaning the entire mansion.

I've grown up helping my mother (who otherwise works alone w chronic back pain) clean middle to upper class homes here in SoCal. In very white oriented areas with housewives and large families with dogs and good financial situations. Now, there's a huge difference between large modern homes that have only two maybe three floors and the entire floor plan of a mansion that's at minimum built in the 1800s and has 30 rooms. But fundamentally the problems with upkeep are the same. You need to sweep all the floors, mop, wipe the baseboards, vacuum every carpet. You need to wipe clean windows, fans, HC units, lightbulbs, staircases, every surface used constantly - kitchen countertops, bathroom counters, showers/bathtubs/toilets. You need to do laundry, not only clothes, but towels and bedding used by the owners and the rags you use to clean. Fold that laundry. Make the beds. Take out every full trashbag and haul it out of the house. Wash dishes daily. Put those dishes away. Occasionally remind the owner that maybe a light needs fixing, there's a hole in their daughter's sweater, the dog peed inside, that their son tends to stuff trash under the couch cushions and now they have an ant infestation.

On average, with my help, it takes my mom 4-5 hours for one two-floor house. Takes longer by herself. That's not even getting into the amount of people and pets. If there's kids, you need to clean after their spaces more than the adults. With babies, there's diapers and toys all over. With dogs or cats there's always always fur to pick up. The bigger the family, the busier they are, the messier the house. And thats all for a housekeeper that visits every week and gets paid in numbers ranging from 6$0 to $100. (And often people will forget to pay you and you have to stretch out your budget for weeks and weeks and then they pay you and they forget again next month).

For Alfred, as an official butler and employee, he lives at the manor. There's no cost for him that comes from travel (no car to pay for fuel) or cleaning supplies (Bruce probably pays for them). But everything else? Not to mention the added chaos factor of BEING VIGILANTES. Alfred not only upkeep the house they live in, but prepares food, clothing, scheduling, and cleans the Batcave and feeds the bats, at least two large dogs, and one cat. Theres multiple cars and vehicles, guns, weaponry, technology to watch out for (and I know the average fanon enjoyer doesn't know Harold Allnut should be doing that). He picks Bruce's clothes and dresses him for godssake. Hell, Alfred even operates the Batcomputer when needed every night. He does their medical care (and people forget about Leslie yet again, even regarding her relationship w Bruce, still. still.) That's too much for one old man.

Realistically, either Bruce has a full house staff like nobles used to have, or Alfred simply does not do as much as people think. He's old. Forever aging. There's not going to be 20+ plus rooms ready all the time for people to sleep in. At best, the residents of the Manor are Bruce, Tim, and Damian. At best, their bedrooms are kept clean daily. All the other bedrooms are cleaned maybe monthly. The rooms that aren't bedrooms (foyers/attics etc) maybe every other month. Groceries are multiple day events. Same with cooking full meals, dietary plans. Galas and business functions require weeks and months. The pets take days for veterinary care and training. The kids all together take weeks, days individually and together. And they not only look at you as a butler but as family. You are responsible for their wellbeing, emotions whether you like it or not (bc Alfred frankly enables Bruce too much but thats for another day).

Only saving grace he has is that recently not many people live there anymore. Stephanie and Helena and Kate and Barbara shouldn't be living there in the first place. Dick and Jason have their own places. Tim and Cassandra are up in the air but I don't think they spend 100% of their time in the Manor because they're young adults with various circumstances.

#I think Alfred should be insane honestly #not only cleaning a mansion but raising a child? multiple children?#alfred pennyworth #batman meta #dc meta #dc #wayne manor #batman #dc comics #batfamily #plus sometimes I think certain comic writers and fanon writers make him a lot nicer and relenting than he really is #personally I don't think Alfred should be 100 percent a kind grandpa he should be allowed to suck #hashtagletalfredbemeanandgetcriticized2k24

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manicpixiefelix · 9 months ago

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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 22.

Summary: After mostly resolving your issues regarding Oliver and Venetia, it's much easier to enjoy the time leading up to the dinner with the Henrys. Still, Oliver seems more than a little nervous to be around you and Felix, much to Felix's ongoing chagrin. He wonders how long it will take for Oliver to take the hint.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

A/N: 3044 words. oh yeah, its all coming together. :) i know the last few updates have been kind of spaced out, so i'd love to get some feedback from you lovely folks about how you think it's coming along now that we're in the back half.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

One day - probably one day soon - you'd have to tell Felix the truth about Oliver and Venetia. By that time, you reasoned, you'd have come up with a way to say it that would make him see why you hadn't called Oliver out for lying, and why you'd kept it from him. His gut reaction, like your own, was to immediately jump to the worst possible, malevolent conclusion. Based on past events, it was a sound conclusion to jump to. But Oliver's not Eddie. It was a moment of weakness, and Oliver really does love Felix. Somehow you'd find a way to make this painless, perhaps even a way to show how much Oliver cared, because that's what you'd seen, that's the why behind your own deception.

Except Felix wasn't even ready to admit out loud to himself, let alone you, or god forbid Oliver, that he genuinely felt that way about him. Even if he definitely, clearly did. But again, past heartbreak makes some of his trepidation far more excusable.

At least you have a distraction for the afternoon - not Oliver, no, he would never be so bold in direct sunlight as to do anything more than make out with you on the pool lounge. No, this distraction wasn't a particularly good one.

The NDA from your parents, sitting in your study.

Part of you knows you should probably have a lawyer look over this, but there was something about the idea of involving yet another person in your parents ongoing attempts to abandoned you that left a sour taste in your mouth. So that left you to look over it all on your own. The sticky-hot afternoon in the study wears thin on your nerves, but irritation was all that ever came of it, not upset or disappointment. Reconciling with Oliver probably had quite a bit to do with it.

Dinner is a welcome reprieve. When Oliver smiles at you across the table, there's a weight that's lifted from your shoulders are you smile back. Felix too is in notably high spirits, though he's decidedly not talking to Venetia; his parents don't seem to mind, however, as long as he's happier than when he'd started the day.

"Is there anything planned for after dinner?" Oliver asked, eyes wide and earnest as he looks around the table, all present sharing an equally confused look as if one of them may have planned something all the others had forgotten.

"Not as far as I'm aware," Sir James offers after a moment.

"Tomorrow will be quite the busy night," Elspeth elaborates with ease, "I'm sure we'd all like to conserve our energy."

"Last chance to cancel dinner with the Henrys," Felix says, already knowing it's not a real option, even after Elspeth chides him for the suggestion, that they'd already had all the food brought and extra help hired.

"Has the seating chart been organised yet?" You asked hopefully, to which Elspeth smiled when her gaze landed upon you, assuring you she'd finalised it that afternoon, turning only to remind Duncan to have it delivered to your study that evening.

"You'll be seated next to Henry of Suffolk, dear," she also tells you, and immediately you're filing that information away in the back of your mind. Henry of Suffolk, partner at Richmond & Suffolk Legal; his late wife was named Clarice, he had a daughter and son a few years younger than you... their names escaped you at that moment.

Beside you, Felix is shamelessly admiring you.

"What?" You ducked your head to try and hide your embarrassed grin.

"Just watching your mind work," he teased with a laugh which had you rolling your eyes with fond exasperation.

"So you can see the cogs too then?" Venetia giggles across the table, though Farleigh chimes in before Felix has the chance to give his sister a look.

"Surprised there's not steam coming out of their ears."

"I'm not a robot," you insisted, flustered by the attention and their combined teasing.

"Just your beautiful brain then," Oliver adds fondly, and out of sheer surprise you look up to meet his endeared gaze as he looks back at you. When had he been let in on that particular joke, you wondered? Something in the back of your mind is sure that it was Venetia, after all, she was the one who most often referred to your 'robot brain' as such, but you don't have it in you to be upset. You never do at these jokes, even though you may occasionally protest about them, they're always intended as a compliment.

And there's no way you could be mad with Oliver looking at you like that.

Dinner continues on with very little fuss after that, and you return to your study feeling much lighter than you had before. Felix joins you, complaining about how you'd spent all afternoon in here, and he couldn't bare to think of you spend all evening alone in here too. Of course he knows that Oliver will more than likely join you when it gets late enough, but he's brought a book, and has quietly claimed the sofa beneath the window for himself. These nights have never been uncommon, but this Summer has seemed especially busy at Saltburn, so you more than welcome his quiet company as the day's heat slowly burns away.

It's not long before there's someone approaching your door.

"It's Duncan," you say, mostly for Felix's benefit, before the butler himself knocks and you invite him in.

"The seating arrangements for tomorrow night's event, Captain," Duncan says graciously, giving you the faintest smile as he hands the document over and turns swiftly on his heel, practically evaporating into the darkness of the house silently.

"Still have no idea how you do that," Felix sounds rather impressed from where he's draped himself over the sofa.

"Do what?" You asked distractedly, examining the seating chart in the golden glow of the lamp.

"How you know exactly who's coming and going without even seeing them."

"Duncan was just being courteous for me," you mutter off-handily, "if I'd heard nothing before he'd knocked, I'd still know it was him."

"You know that's even more impressive, right?" Felix laughs, and finally you turn to him, only to see him watching you like he can't quite believe what you're saying. Sometimes you find yourself surprised by the Cattons, and how little they seem to understand or appreciate about the Estate on which they live.

"No, what's impressive is that I can tell what kind of mood your in half the time just by the sound of your footsteps," you tells him with a grin.

"Now you're lying," Felix snorts, shaking his head. But you continue.

"No, seriously Fi, it's not always entirely accurate, but it's pretty close; I'm not quite there with the rest of your family, but I think I know you well enough."

"That's like, stalker levels of dedication," but his smile is bright in the light of the moon, and his tone turns teasing, "do you have a thing for me or something?"

"I wouldn't go that far," you huffed a laugh, playing along with the bit.

"Shame," he sighed dramatically, "I was really hoping you did, 'cos I kind of have a thing for you."

"I wouldn't if I were you," finally standing, you sauntered over to him, smirking as he beamed up at you, thoroughly pleased by this silly little bit, "that sounds like a scandal waiting to happen."

"Call the tabloids then," Felix laughed softly as he welcomed you into his arms.

"Any stalker-like tendencies of yours I should be worried about?" You asked, settling against him, leaning into him.

"Yeah, I've got a bunch of your things in my room," Felix murmurs right before you kiss him, grinning as you do so. Things devolve from there to the two of you making out in the moonlight, giggling together, teasing nonsense passed back and forth as the moon rose higher in the sky.

"Ollie's at the door," you see fit to finally tell Felix, who looks down at you with wide, surprised eyes. Sheepishly you admit, "he's been there for like five minutes." It's getting terribly late, but you really don't want to go bed right now, or go anywhere that isn't here, in this moment. Felix snorts a laugh, face scrunching up with something close to embarrassment; he knows letting Oliver get away with this kind of thing is part of the game you're all playing, but it still catches him off guard with just how aware you were of the whole situation.

"Ollie," Felix called out, and you both heard a him start behind the study door, "Christ, mate, don't linger," he insists, righting both him and yourself to something more respectable on the sofa, but still insisting on holding you close, "come in already." You're practically in his lap.

Like a deer in the headlights, looking absolutely mortified at being caught out, Oliver pushes the door open and faintly apologises, telling you both he didn't want to interrupt.

"Interrupt what?" Felix says far too easily, smile wide and a bit coy, "nothing to interrupt," though you can hear it for what it is; nothing you, Oliver, could ever interrupt if you simply asked to join. How long would it take Oliver to realise this, you wondered; Felix is getting less subtle by the day.

"I was going to ask -" Oliver pauses, focus stolen by the way Felix presses a kiss to your shoulder, before his gaze returns to your face, your expectant smile. Felix knows exactly what he's doing, "um, was going to ask about the seats for the dinner tomorrow?" Oliver manages, "I don't... know the Henrys?"

As you stand, Felix lets out a loud, disappointed sigh, but lets you go, returning to his book. Every movement, every sound Felix makes captivates Oliver in this moment, and both you and Felix are more than aware of this. Still, you swan over to your desk, looking over the seating chart before you usher Oliver over.

"They've got you next to Ven and Lady Daphne," you show him, pointing out his place along the table, "she's Henry's wife," you add wryly, and hear Felix bark a laugh behind you. Oliver, for a moment, seems confused, gaze flicking between you both.

"Aren't all the -?"

"That's the joke, Ollie," you tell him, but he still seems too nervous to properly see the humour in it, just making a faint noise of understanding in the back of his throat. "Did you want to hang out for a bit?" You offered, "this contract's doing my head in," you flicked at the thick contract on your desk dismissively, "so I'm probably going to get stuck into something lighter, but you know we always love your company."

"Thanks, but, uh," Oliver hesitated, looking to Felix again, "I think I'm gonna turn in for the night."

"Okay," you say sunnily, leaning over to give him a quick peck on the lips, which seems to startle him, "hope you sleep well, Ollie."

"Yeah," Oliver still seems to be reeling from the brief show of affection, "you too."

"Good night, mate," Felix offers with a cheery wave.

"You going to kiss me good night too?" Oliver sounds almost dazed, and suddenly looks mortified once more, like he can't quite believe he'd said that. Felix, unphased, stands and makes his way over to you both.

"Sure," he seems to take the suggestion in stride, kissing the top of Oliver's head before he bends to quickly kiss him on the lips. For a moment after Felix has pulled back, Oliver's look at him like he's staring at the sun, and Felix is wearing a sharp, knowing smile, "'night, Ollie," he says, quieter this time.

"G'night, Felix," Oliver murmurs, making his way to the door as Felix nonchalantly reaches to take the seating chart from your hand to look it over for himself. You, however, watch Oliver go, feeling both helpless and amused all at once.

"You think if I fuck him he'll take the hint?" Felix asks quietly once the door was shut, and you'd both heard Oliver's door squeak closed for the night.

"Do you think if you fuck him you'll take the hint," you asked disbelievingly, "that man is so into you, Fi," you hissed, almost furiously wide-eyed as you looked up at him. As always, Felix responds dismissively.

"Told you I'm not saying anything until he does," Felix puts the document down, choosing instead to drape his arms over your shoulders, "we can fuck around all Summer for all I care, but you know I'm not going to hold my breath for things to get more serious unless he tells me."

"He just asked you to kiss him, Felix!"

"I wasn't in love with you when we first kissed."

"Bad example; yes you were."

"Okay, bad example, yes I was," Felix admits with a faint flush, "but for the record, I didn't think I was at the time; we were twelve," he regains his composure quickly, "but it's not like you're in love with Farleigh or my sister; yeah, I know you love them, but you're not in love with them."

"That's different, Fi, we've been fucking around since forever," you sighed, resting your head against him for a moment.

"It's not different," Felix insists, "I just-" but he paused, and when you chance a look up at him, his face is scrunched up, like he's on the verge of admitting something he really doesn't want to, "I don't want to be getting my hopes up if it's just fucking around with Ollie, you know?" It comes out far more frustrated than you'd anticipated, and though you pat his back comfortingly, you can't help but add -

"He drank your bathwater."

"He fucking watched me get myself off and didn't even do anything about it until after it happened! And not even with me!" Felix points out, sounding almost like a petulant child, "I left the fucking door open and everything!" He's pouting now, actually pouting.

"He probably thinks that if he's too forward he'll scare you off, or your parents will kick him out or something," you tried to reason with him, to which Felix groaned.

"But they won't! You saw how much they loved Eddie, fucking hell," he huffed, stepping back, now wearing a scowl. Where had this night turned to something unfortunate? "Mum would throw a fucking parade if I got a boyfriend who wasn't a cheating dickhead."

"You should tell Oliver that," you pointed out frankly, "or at the very least tell him the truth about things with Eddie, so he knows that you do more than just fuck around with pretty boys."

Everything suddenly goes very still.

"What?" There's no frown, no anger anywhere on Felix's face, just pure surprise, "do you think he thinks that?" You watch Felix re-evaluate the entire situation, giving him space to sort out his feelings, "I made it clear I'm into guys too- do you think he thinks -"

"I think," slowly, carefully, you step up to Felix, voice firm but kind, "that despite how much he's seen you fuck around with other people on campus, the only person you are actually in love with is me," Felix is quiet, looking down at you with this crestfallen look like he's disappointed in himself, "and he, like most people I'll remind you, probably assumes that if he wants you to look at him like you look at me, it'll be a competition."

"Of course it's not, that's so stupid," Felix muttered reflexively.

"I've tried to tell Ollie that," you sighed, wrapping an arm around him. Felix presses his face into your hair for a very long moment.

"What if he doesn't, though?" Comes through muffled and forlorn. You're not quite sure what he means, and thankfully Felix continues, not that he moves his face at all, "what if it is just fucking around and we've misread all of this; I can't tell him I actually love him too, I'd look like an absolute freak."

"Tell him about Eddie," you advised softly, "at least he'll get the hint that you're capable of falling in love with someone who isn't me." The reminder of Eddie would always probably ache, you're starting to come to realise. For now, however, you ignore it.

Felix hugs you tightly, and mumbles that you're probably right. Something eases in your chest at that.

Curled up together in bed not ten minutes later, neither your pyjamas or duvet are as comfortable or warm as Felix's arm around you. He's still deep in thought about the night that had just passed; when he muses that at least it was a better talk than the night before, he sounds like he's still making his mind up about that. Settling into sleep, however, you're contented knowing it was true.

The following morning feels comparatively serene, chattering away to the rest of the family about the night's coming festivities. Both you and Felix drop a quick kiss to the top of Oliver's head in passing on your way to collect breakfast - Farleigh's the only one who notices, and he rolls his eyes at you both. Venetia asks you what you'll be wearing to the event and lights up when you tell her it's the jumpsuit she'd bought you from Yves Saint Laurent for your last birthday, while Elspeth coos that you'll look just darling in it.

After yesterday morning's tenseness, getting to work in your garden, planting the flowers that had arrived for you, music playing cheerily through your little speaker, it feels like a dream. The sun is warm against your back, and for some weird reason you think you see Oliver skulking around in one of the gardens by the wall of the house. Lurking again. Probably habit more than anything else, you figured. Considering the games you've been playing with him, you don't see the need to discourage that kind of behaviour. He's by the window of one of the little libraries; you wonder what must be going on in there to have caught his attention.

Oh well, you'll ask later if you remember.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick smut #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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littlest-w01f · 5 months ago

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Little Family

Cassian x Luna

CASSIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: When Cassian comes to pick Feyre up from her work, he sees a new girl with her, a girl who sits to herself silently and doesn't talk to any other children, his whole world shifts on its axis when the girl's mother walks in to take her home

Cw: None

part one - part two - part three - part four

The next two week followed with Luna preparing Nova with flight gear, her overprotective instincts having her girl packed with cushioned knee and elbow pads for her flight lessons, she was not leaving anything to chance.

"Mama, you know I can fly now right?" Nova laughed, letting her be mother henned.

Luna rolled her eyes playfully, "Well, knowing how to fly and flying without accidents are very different things." Luna booped her daughter's nose, "And I'm always going to want to protect you."

Luna couldn't help but marvel at her daughter's growth since then. She remembers when Nova was just a tiny bundle in her arms, barely able to lift her own head. Now here she is, ready to take on the world. It fills her heart with pride.

Luna helped Nova put on the little training leathers that Feyre had got for her. "Remember, safety first."

Nova nodded eagerly, her eyes shining with excitement. Luna knew her daughter didn't need the same speech over and over again, but it soothed her heart a little to remind her to always take care of her surroundings.

Soon enough, they heard the fluttering of Cassian's wings outside and Nova rushed out, Luna followed behind with a giggle.

"Slow down, darling, Cassian isn't going anywhere," Luna laughed, holding onto Nova.

"Ah, my favourite student." Cassian ruffled Nova's hair with an affectionate smile.

Luna watched them with a smile, knowing at how high regard her daughter kept the general, "So, you should be home before sunrise, alright?" She knelt in front of Nova.

The girl nodded, "Of couse, mama." She crinkled her nose slightly when Luna kissed her cheeks.

Cassian watched the mother and daughter, the sight tugging at his heart, or maybe it was just the mating bond, "Why don't you join us? See Nova's progress."

"I... Can't fly... Remember..." Luna reminded him, motioning to the stubs on her back that were left of her wings. She had almost stopped giving what flying felt like a while back.

Cassian smiled as she got up, "Come on, I could fly you." He offered her his hand.

Luna hesitated for a moment, unsure about getting into the air again after all these years, unsure about having Cassian carry her weight. But then she looked at Nova, who was already a few inches in the air, and felt a pang of longing. She did miss the feeling of freedom that came with flight.

"Alright," she said finally, extending her hand to Cassian. "But if I start panicking, promise me you'll get me back down safely."

Cassian took her hand and pulled her close, his warm breath tickling her ear as he whispered, "I promise, my love. Nothing will happen to you while you're with me."

With that, he spread his wings and lifted off the ground, carrying Luna with him, his arms holding onto her plush hips, holding her close. Having Nova fly in front of them so he could watch her form and give orders to perfect it. As they soared through the sky, Luna couldn't help but feel a sense of joy and wonder that she hadn't experienced in years.

Watching her daughter soar through the air filled Luna with joy and fear all at once. She knew that Nova was safe with Cassian, but it also made her miss her own wings more than ever. Still, she couldn't deny the happiness she felt seeing Nova so happy.

As they flew higher, Luna gazed down at the sprawling city below, the lights twinkling like stars against the dark canvas of night. The wind whipped through her hair, and despite the fear that still lingered within her, she found herself relaxing in Cassian's embrace.

Nova, meanwhile, was in her element. She darted and weaved through the air, her laughter echoing through the night as she played a game of tag with Cassian who carried her mother to her. Her movements were graceful, fluid, and utterly captivating to watch.

Luna felt a surge of pride welling up inside her. Her daughter was growing into a strong, confident young faeling.

As they continued their flight, Luna leaned her head against Cassian's chest as the male gave Nova instructions, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.

"Mama look!" Nova spoke excitedly, doing flips in the air. Luna's eyes widened in awe as she watched Nova perform a series of impressive aerial stunts, each one more breathtaking than the last. She felt a rush of pride swell within her chest, her heart overflowing with love and admiration for her remarkable daughter.

"Cassian, she's incredible!" Luna exclaimed, her voice tinged with wonder. "Look at her go!"

Cassian chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched Nova's antics. "She certainly is, she always listens well, and is a wonderful student." he agreed, his voice filled with warmth and pride. "And she's only going to get better with time and practice."

As they continued to observe Nova's dazzling display, Luna felt a sense of contentment wash over her. In this moment, surrounded by the beauty of the night sky and the love of those closest to her, she knew that everything was exactly as it should be.

Luna felt a deep sense of peace settle over her, a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time. Being up here, watching her daughter soar through the air, surrounded by the vast expanse of the night sky, it all felt so right.

She turned to Cassian, her eyes meeting his in a moment of tender connection. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind rushing past them. "For giving me this moment, for being here with me and Nova."

Cassian's expression softened, his gaze filled with affection and understanding. He pulled her close as they flew together, Nova's laughter and the sound of their own hearts beating in unison filling the air.

As Luna nestled closer to Cassian, she could feel the solid muscle beneath his leathers. His broad shoulders and toned abdomen provided a comforting solidity amidst the airy freedom of their flight. With each breath she took in, she could smell his masculine scent mixed with the crisp night air.

Feeling her soft curves mould perfectly against his muscular frame, Luna let out a sigh of contentment. Despite the thrill of watching Nova, there was something equally thrilling about being held tightly in Cassian's strong arms.

"You know, Nova really cares for you more and more every day," Luna whispered softly, "All I hear day in and day out is how amazing you are."

Cassian gave a gentle smile, "When she's with me, I always hear how strong her mama is, how she never lets her feel bad, how much she loves you. You're the perfect mother."

Luna blushed at Cassian's words, her heart swelling with emotion. No one had ever spoken to her like that before, praising her for being a good mother instead of focusing on her physical limitations, or making snide comments about how she had let herself go.

"You're too kind, Cassian," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the wind. "But I do try my best for Nova. She deserves the world, and I want to give it to her."

Cassian nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're doing a fantastic job, Luna. Nova is lucky to have you as her mother."

They flew on in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the rustle of their clothes in the wind and Nova's occasional giggles as she played above them in the clouds. Luna felt a deep sense of gratitude towards Cassian, not just for his praise, but for being such a positive influence in Nova's life.

"And, I may not know why, but I can see that a mating bond isn't something you quite wanted," Cassian whispered softly, as if it would ruin the moment between them if he spoke too loudly, "But perhaps we could try..."

"I... We can try... I want to try... But I need you to swear to me that if things don't go well, we would never bring Nova into it, and that you will stay for her if this doesn't work out because I do not want my daughter to go through that kind of a heartbreak knowing how much she talks of you." Luna stated firmly. "I chose a male out of my own wants the first time, I didn't for a second think of how he would be as a father... Or how he would be to me after I became a mother... I can't make that mistake again. Not if it'll cause Nova hurt."

Cassian's face lit up with a warm smile at Luna's agreement to try, his eyes shining with hope and anticipation. "Of course, Ástin," he assured her, his voice low and soothing. And Luna smiled at the Illyrian endearment, "If things don't work out between us, I swear on my life that I will never involve Nova in our troubles. She's started to mean too much to me, and I would never want to cause her pain. And I swear to never cause you pin like that either."

Luna suddenly yelped as Nova landed on her shoulders, "Mama can we go home now? Getting s'eepy." She yawned.

Luna and Cassian smiled at her tone, "I should drop you both off," Cassian said softly, already flying back to their home.

On the flight home, Nova fell asleep on her mother's shoulders and Luna couldn't help but marvel at Cassian and his ruggedly handsome features. Her heart racing at the thought of giving the mating bond a try.

{General Taglist: @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith}

{Little Family Taglist: @littlelunatica @journalofthedamned}

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mazeinthemiroh · 2 years ago

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I have a request thats kinda angsty but could I ask for a Stray Kids reaction to catching someone sneaking food you’re severely allergic to into a dish and they are very dismissive saying things like ‘how bad could it really be’ ‘they're just overreacting’ ‘that’s not a real allergy’ ‘I only put in a little’. Thank you!

stray kids reactions to someone not taking their s/o's allergies seriously

genre: general, slight angst?

warnings: mentions of food/allergies, cursing

a/n: it's still so surprising to me that there are people like this that actually exist and still do these things?? if this is something you go through anon i'm really sorry, people should know to have their boundaries and not brush things off as being only a 'minor allergy'. i have a friend who suffers from serious allergic reactions and its something that needs to be taken more seriously :/

bangchan

he just wouldn't let this happen. at all. even if they are persistent or undermine just how allergic you are to what they've brought with them, he immediately shuts it down. chan has made sure to know everything about your allergies, and if you are hyperallergic to something then there's absolutely no way chan is gonna let even one molecule anywhere near you.

lee know

minho is like chan in this way. he is very protective of you and your health is his top priority. he'll give this person one of his signature deathly glares before raising a sharp eyebrow. he doesn't feel he has to say much; just the stern look he gives them is enough to get them to back off with the food. he'll keep an eye on what food you will have for the rest of the night, just in case.

changbin

changbin is glaring daggers at this person. after politely reminding them of your allergies, if this person still is persistent and DARES to call you over-dramatic, changbin feels himself getting hot. "over-dramatic, huh?" changbin would quirk up an eyebrow "well it's time for me to be 'over-dramatic' now. get tf out" and will show them the door. he doesn't usually like making a scene unless it means defending you.

hyunjin

all that's going through hyunjin's mind is how inconsiderate and cruel this person is? he can't tell if they are just joking or whether they really just have that much audacity. he'll be so passive-aggressive with them and reinforce the fact you are severely allergic to the food they have brought with them, something he honestly never thought he'd have to explain so fully to someone.

han

he honestly thinks the person is joking at first when they start saying 'how bad can their allergy really be' because bitch?? it's an allergy get tf out. he's so ready to fight them to be honest like he's done with their bullshit from the minute they shrug off your very serious allergy. he will literally laugh in their face before telling them to either get rid of the food or get rid of themselves.

felix

felix is always mindful of other people and is generally good at adhering to people's needs. he knows of your allergies and, because he bakes a lot, likes making recipes that you can eat and enjoy without suffering?? yk like a normal, nice person would?? when he hears this person defend why they have brought this food in and say it's no big deal, he is appalled and stands up for you immediately.

seungmin

seungmin would peacefully and subtly pull them aside and explain your allergies to them in extensive detail. because lord knows he has thoroughly memorised everything you can and can't eat. and when the person still protests he's stubborn and firm with it; he's not going to let their carelessness hurt you in any way. "they can't have that, end of story." he'll be so stern when it comes to your health.

jeongin

jeongin knows you can take care of yourself but he does get quite defensive and protective with regard to your allergies because he knows how severe your reactions they can be. it's only natural for him to care for you. if this person still brushes it off and acts like they don't care, he takes matters into his own hands and resorts to throwing the food out himself.

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coffbeanie · 4 months ago

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Get ready for a wall of text fellas cause i got some Ticci Toby head canons!!

If u guys want my specific thoughts on anything with Toby lemme know!! Also share ur own hcs i love hearing ppl talk about their interpretations of the characters

These hcs are in regards to my AU/interpretation of creepypasta characters/the Slendermansion

-Toby is 19 in my version, and he became an official proxy at around 17.

-Physically, he’s around 17-18 as proxies at some point stop aging. That’s also why he’s grown out whatever facial hair he has cause he has a complex about looking young, and he’s kinda baby faced as it is.

-He has some scars remaining from the car crash, but he’s gotten a lot more all over his body as he gets himself needlessly hurt. He knows that if he gets hits in certain parts of his body, it’s fatal and tries to avoid that as much as he can, but when it comes to the rest of him, he doesn’t really care

-he’s also super skinny because food wasn’t always the easiest to come by while he was on his own, but he would just forget cause he doesn’t get hunger pains.

-his first “mission” came in when the Slenderman provided him the names and locations of his old bullies from school

-this is what brought Toby to the public eye in the first place as a fr serial killer, since they were able to connect the victims to being in the same class as Toby, who was recently remembered for being the boy who murdered his father, set his house on fire, and suddenly disappeared.

-other students in Toby’s old class were able to vouch to that the victims were his old bullies, and one of them mentioned that they used to call him “Ticci Toby” to tease him, so that stuck as the nickname the news and internet would use to refer to Toby.

-Besides that, he ran solo and was mainly left to his own devices for until he was about 19 He didn’t really do much for those couple of months, just trying to work through his problems (by un aliving people)

-He would stalk various families mainly and would target parents that reminded him of his father. Sometimes, he would also find kids that reminded him of his older bullies, so he would go after them as well

-The Slenderman only ever interfered if Toby got too close to getting caught by law enforcement, but this was early on and Toby eventually got better at getting away on his own.

-Toby first moved into the mansion when he just turned 19. The Slenderman told him that he would eventually get a partner and a proper mission, but didn’t tell him exactly when

-For now, Toby had a nice place to stay with all the essentials, but he wouldn’t always stay there, only stopping by if he needed a shower, or to wash his clothes

-He would also go if he realized that he hadn’t eaten in a few days and decided that he probably should have some food

-And whenever he did stay, he left the place a mess, just cause he wasn’t used to having a place to himself, and he didn’t really mind living in filth

-He also didn’t stay just cause it reminded him that he was lonely-there were so many rooms so he knew other people were supposed to be staying there, but it felt like the Slenderman just dumped him there. He won’t say it out loud but he likes being with people, it at least keeps him distracted by his own thoughts

-his thoughts are mainly on his mom and Lyra.

-In terms of his mom, while he would wish that she had done more to protect him and his sister, he would sometimes wonder how she was doing-did she see him on the news? where was she? even after what he did, did she miss him?

-He knows he’s not supposed to be thinking about her, and sometimes if the Slenderman catches him thinking about his mom, he’ll reward him with just static in his brain and sickness, but that doesn’t really stop Toby

-The Slenderman also was able to eliminate Lyra from Toby’s nightmares to keep him focused, but that just led to him thinking about her more when he’s awake cause he still never got a chance to grieve and get over her death

The sillier ones are under the cut <3

-While his hatchets are his main weapon, he is a bit of an arsonist-it’s not his main mode of killing but he will light something up after he’d gone out on his own

-He’s not an expert tho so it’ll either spread to the surrounding locations or go out once he’s left-no in between

-while i draw him with just his ears pierced, he’ll probably give himself other piercings, and try to convince the other proxies to get piercings as well

-He’ll try to do them tho so he’ll like twitch around every once in a while going “trust me bro this isn’t gonna hurt at all”

-speaking of which, his tics consist of him neck cracking to the side, cracking/pushing down his pointer finger with his thumb on his left hand, putting on the middle finger on his left hand, making popping noises, clicking his tongue, saying “beep beep,” “get fucked” and “oh, no!”

-Toby did have pretty severe Tourrette’s, but the Slenderman’s influence has made it worse, causing him to tic more frequently, and almost non stop if he ever gets hit with the sickness

-the only thing he has from his home is an older picture of him and lyra-he used to keep it in the kitchen but once more people started to move into the mansion he’s kept it in the bottom of a drawer in his room

-loves his baggy comfy clothes-big sweaters, hoodies, baggy jeans and sweats

-also loves breakfasts foods

-Toby picked up some interests and hobbies from his sister, mainly music and soccer

-Toby doesn’t really play soccer, but when he was living on his own he would put women’s soccer on the tv, as Lyra would watch it a bunch when she was alive

-He also knows how to play a bit of the drums-he’s not a pro but he knows the basics and he knows some guitar chords that his sister taught him

-She was really good with the guitar and they would joke about starting a band with some of her friends

-While Toby will joke about drinking, he’s never touched the stuff, and he feels uncomfortable whenever he’s around people who are obviously drunk

#coffbeanie thinks!!#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta ticci toby #ticci toby #ticci toby creepypasta #ticci toby headcanons

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bucketsofmonsters · 2 months ago

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Where the Light Enters - Part 14

Cole/Female Inquisitor

cw: unreliable narrator, hurt/comfort, slow burn, enemies to lovers, referenced noncon, happy ending, masturbation, oral sex, hand jobs

word count: 3k

ao3 link

Masterlist

Rosemary was quickly beginning to realize that Cole had never bathed.

It hadn’t been an issue before, back when he’d been a full spirit. She assumed that with his on and off incorporeal nature, the dirt never really had a chance to build up.

This was no longer true and, as Varric had kindly pointed out to him on their return trip, he had begun to stink.

She was ready to put up a fight with him, like she’d had to in regards to eating, but he didn’t seem to mind the idea.

She dragged him over to her room the first chance she got. She typically preferred the attic but the attic did not have what this room did, a bathtub.

Getting water to it was a bit of an issue. Bull spoke to most of the servants fairly regularly and none of the mages were really trustworthy enough to ask for a hand.

She ended up hauling the water up herself. She was incredibly slow but the tub was enchanted to warm water so at least they didn’t have to worry about that.

After about six trips hauling buckets of water up to the bath remained not entirely full, but it was close enough and she waved at him to get in.

He disrobed, needing a little help to struggle his way out of the tightly bound bandages, and sunk into the water as she folded his clothes up, gingerly setting his hat on top of the pile.

She eyed his wound as she returned, distorted by the surface of the water. It was healing quickly, though she imagined it would likely scar. She hoped it wouldn’t, hoped she could escape the reminder of how she’d hurt him, though it was a deeply selfish instinct.

“Maybe you should do it,” he said carefully as he laid back in the tub, cutting through her thoughts. “I’ve never had a bath before.”

She saw the mischief in his eyes, the ghost of a smirk hiding somewhere behind a carefully neutral expression.

She rolled her eyes in a fond annoyance, picking up the rag at the side of the tub. “You’re lucky I like you,” she said. “You’re in a very vulnerable position right now.”

He preened under the attention, completely unconcerned with any vague threats being leveled in his direction.

She didn’t start washing him right away, opting instead to run her hands lightly over his shoulder.

He looked up at her longingly and she swept the hair out of his face. He hadn’t let her cut much so it had already begun hanging down into his eyes again.

“If you cut less,” he said, slowly and carefully. “I get to let you do it more.”

She smiled, cupping water to drip over his head before beginning to lather up his hair. “So what, you’re trying to get more rewards out of me when you let me do it?”

His nose wrinkled as he took in what she was saying. “No. I like when you’re close to me, when you take care.”

“Then you’ll love bathing.”

“Maybe,” he said, words still coming slower and with more thought than they typically did. “Maybe you should come in and show me.”

She laughed. “You rascal, you absolute curr. What do you take me for? I can show you just fine from out here, thank you very much. You’re lucky I’m helping you at all, I could leave you to fend for yourself in here.”

He looked up at her with big eyes, sliding slowly beneath the surface of the water so his nose was submersed.

And then he came bursting out, coughing up water as he did.

Her brows furrowed as she watched him, patting at his back as he hacked up liquid back into the bath.

“Lesson number one,” she said. “Water is not for breathing.”

“My body thinks it knows but it knows wrong.”

“Well, you won’t make that mistake again.”

His nose crinkled a little as he thought back to it. “No, never. No more water.”

“Not quite, almost there. Certainly no more breathing water.”

He huffed. “I knew that. Just didn’t realize I had to tell me to stop breathing.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

As she thought back on it, she realized that the timing of the incident was certainly suspect. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if his drowning scare had been a demonstration of just how much he needed an example of how to bathe.

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t trick you. And I wouldn’t do that for anything.”

She laughed, brows raised. “Not for anything?”

He shook his head. “It was a half-truth, where they know it’s a lie but you say it anyway, just to talk. I would do it for some things.”

“But not to get me in the bath?”

He shook his head. “For that, I would just ask.”

She shrugged, hands rising to scrub at his hair again. “Well, better luck next time. Now lean your head back, let’s finish this so you can get out of here before you drown.”

He ducked his head back incredibly carefully, letting her guide his movements. After that he just laid back as she scrubbed at him, moving tentatively around his injury.

They somehow managed to survive the bath.

She set him to dry off as she grabbed a roll of fresh bandages and the salves Solas had given Cole, alongside strict instruction on how to use them. Cole seemed irritatingly lax about treating his injury now that the immediate pain had ceased, but she was militant about it.

“I’m fine now,” he said, stepping up to her and dropping the towel, clearly deciding he was dry enough.

She picked it back up and ruffled his still sopping wet hair with it. “I don’t care, I’m doing everything we should until you are a hundred percent healed. I will not stop any sooner and I can’t be convinced otherwise.”

He paused for a moment, towel draping over half his face, and he looked deep in thought. After a moment he declared, “No, you can’t,” and leaned his head to the side to deposit the towel onto the floor once more.

She moved towards him, taking that as a concession. He winced as she pulled the bandages taut around him, not as tight as they had to be when he was actively bleeding, but still rather tight. He squirmed less this time so the process was far easier. The lack of fear and stress and blood also probably helped.

She could feel his eyes on her as she bandaged him, fingers running along the cold skin above his ribs. He shivered under her warm touch.

“Cold?” she asked, her lips pulling back into a teasing grin.

He shook his head. “You know I’m not.”

She did.

He was still nude from the bath, except for the bandages she was pulling around him, tying them up with a light kiss right above the wound, barely enough to put any pressure on it.

Still, even as she finished, she did not draw away from him, fingers lingering against his damp skin, tracing little lines alongside the bone white of the bandages.

She could see him getting hard as she touched him, his dick sometimes twitching under her ministrations. She continued on, not doing anything other than run her fingers along his stomach. He seemed utterly entranced by the movement, just watching her fingers as they moved over the planes of him.

Eventually, the teasing seemed to grow too much and his hips twitched forwards, begging for any sort of friction.

”Cole!” she said with a laugh, as if she had only just noticed the state of him instead of how she’d coaxed it out of him, slowly and gently. “You’re going to get all dirty again. You'll have to take another bath. I will not be with someone who reeks.”

He watched her for a moment and then nodded and said, “You would.”

Before she could retort he kissed her.

He’d gotten good at kissing. She supposed all of their practice was paying off.

Her hands cupped his cheeks, kissing him back hard before pulling away.

His eyes were glazed over, though not like they were when he plucked things from the minds of unsuspecting people. It was a quiet, desperate sort of thing, like he just wanted to fall back into sensation. She had no intention of letting him.

“Can I touch you?” she asked.

She remembered vividly how this went before, how their first attempt to do anything sexual had ended before it had even really began.

She had a feeling that would not happen again. She was determined this time.

“Yes,” he said, hand raising to stroke her hair. “If it feel bad i will stop you.”

“If it feels bad for you or for me?”

“Either.”

She nodded, resisting the urge to crack a joke or say something nasty. She knew to him, this was not a joking matter.

Her hand snuck down, across his ribs and stomach down to his dick, now almost painfully hard despite not having been touched yet.

“Do you touch yourself here?” she asked, hand stroking lightly down the side of his cock.

His face went bright red at the contact, hips twitching into her. He was asking for more as he moved, pleading for it

She did not give it to him.

“No,” he said with a gasp. “I wanted to but it felt wrong. I kept seeing you.”

“Aw,” she cooed. “You can touch yourself if you want, I promise I don’t mind.”

His hand immediately fell to his dick, wrapping around it alongside hers, moving slowly at first as he figured out what felt good.

She pulled away and allowed him to explore, quiet whimpers escaping him as he did.

The more he touched himself, the louder he got. When her hand snaked down once agin, this time just drawing a little circle over the head of his dick, he let out a loud cry.

She clamped a hand over his mouth, desperately trying to stop the noises from echoing through the castle.

“I don’t think you could be any louder if you tried,” she said with a laugh.

He said something that was muffled behind her palm and she removed her hand.

“I feel so good it almost hurts,” he said between ragged breaths, choking in air like he was drowning.

She leaned back, content to just watch him take his pleasure for now. “That’s good, I want you to feel good. Keep going, do whatever feels right.”

He tried to move towards her and she tsked. “I can’t let you move around too much,” she insisted. “Don’t want you to agitate your wound.”

“You like being in control,” he hissed out, his hand wrapping around his dick as he thrusted up, ungracefully and without rhythm. “If you set the rules you can’t get hurt. Oh!”

His moans were incredibly loud, at this point closer to screams than anything. It would be a miracle if no one came running in to check if everything was alright.

It was so painfully endearing, the way he seemed to have no control over any of it, just giving in to his wants and to the sensations, the way he kept fighting the urge to shut his eyes, staring at her with naked adoration. The way he had no shame, would do anything she asked, admit anything to her.

She leaned over and licked a long stripe up his dick and with what could only be described as a scream, he came, hips jerking as he came entirely undone.

She pulled back and watched, giving up on any attempt to keep him even remotely quiet. Ropes of cum spilled out of him, painting his stomach and, irritatingly enough, his bandages.

He collapsed at soon as he was done, exhausted by the activities. She pulled herself beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. “You feel okay?” she asked, taking his hand and tracing some of the lines on it with her finger.

He nodded. “I feel warm.”

“Well, you just got out of the bath.”

“Not from that. From this. From you.”

“Good, I’m glad. You can do that wherever you want,” she said with a smile. “You have full permission to think of me if you’d like.”

He shook his head, slowly catching his breath. “I like it better when you’re here. You make it feel safe and right, make my heart warm. You make me feel good.”

“I can see that,” she said with a laugh, looking down at the cum that was now soaking into his bandages. “Now, this is definitely not sterile. You clean up in the bath, I have to go beg for more bandages from Solas. You’d better hope he doesn’t ask too many questions.”

He laughed. “He’d think you’ve corrupted me.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I have.”

“If this is corruption, I’d take it gladly.”

She left to find Solas before she could dwell on his words too much.

When she got back with the new bandages, Cole was curled up on her bed, still naked minus the bandages and reading her little book.

She snatched it out of his hand, moving to rebandage him once more, set on doing it less sensually this time.

“I was reading that,” he said with a frown.

“Why?” she asked. “You already know everything in it.”

“I wanted to see it. To know the words how you see them.”

“You can’t,” she insisted. “I have memories tied to all this, I know exactly how I learned all of it. Now just drop it, you can already see inside my head, can you at least leave me this?”

“Me seeing it bothers you,” he said, almost like it was a question.

Of course it did, she wanted to scream. It was a sign of every wretched thing inside her, every evil instinct. The worst, most scared part of herself wrote those pages and she hated it but she needed it. Without them she had nothing, could do nothing for herself.

And she didn’t want him to see it, didn’t want him to know that part of her.

And he could see all of it, rip it right out of her, so she didn’t have to say anything.

All she could bring herself to say was, “It’s hard for me to remember everything sometimes, and a mix up of information can be life or death.”

“Even here?” he asked, still staring at where she’d placed it on the table.

She nodded, snatching the book up and hiding it back under the floorboards. “Even here. Thinking that somewhere is safe is exactly how you get yourself killed. Knowing everywhere is dangerous keeps you alive.”

“You’re safe here,” he said, and she knew he wasn’t talking about Skyhold. He was talking about here, in this room, with him.

But she wasn’t, and she never would be. Everywhere felt safe until something went wrong and by then it was too late.

She couldn’t summon the nerve to say that, a coward even now, so instead she just gave him a weak, “maybe,” and hoped he’d let her be done.

He allowed her the lie, a silence falling over the two of them as he stared at the floorboards like he could see right through to her book.

#dai cole #cole dai #cole dragon age #dragon age cole #dragon age inquisition #dai #colemance #where the light enters

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