#of course some points felt rushed/too on the nose

[madamescarlette]

💐

[deadsetobsessions]

Some night, he flew above the twinkling lights of Blüdhaven’s buildings, wind rushing through his hair and the feeling of weightlessness pushing at the curve of his back.

There were a multitude of things that Dick Grayson appreciated, loved, Bruce for. One of those things would always be that his adopted dad allowed him to fly once more, even after his parents’ wings were cut.

In the air, he was home.

In the air, Dick Grayson felt like he was living up to, flying alongside, the Flying Graysons. Every flip, every trick he used to go faster, to fight better, felt like his parents were there guiding his every move.

Time healed his hurt, but still, the hole in his heart remained.

So when one of his best friends, a ghost vigilante by the name Phantom, asked him if he wanted to see his parents, he froze like a deer in bright white headlights.

“What…?”

Phantom did a flip in midair. “Wanna see your parents? They’ve been asking if they could talk to you.”

“My parents… are ghosts?” That was the least pressing question he had right now, but it was all his mouth could speak.

“Kind of. It’s complicated,” Phantom side-eyed him. “It would require going into the zone.”

And just like that, Dick understood. After the Amity Park came onto the map and the Justice League fixed the human and alien and meta rights violations that were happening right under their nose, Phantom had permanently closed all access to the Zone. Save, of course, for himself and a few magic users, who all refused to anger the King of the Dead.

“The only way you’re getting to my people now, is through me. Should anyone try to get into the zone, without my permission… I will make sure that you and your family’s afterlives will pay the appropriate price.”

No-one wanted to test his threat. The afterlife is something few fucked with and came back whole.

The Phantom they’d seen on the news then was incredibly different than the one in front of him now. Dick knows, understands now, that it was because Phantom trusted him. After years of being denied help, years of struggling all by himself to keep reality from collapsing while avoiding getting experimented on by humans understandably closed his heart.

“You’d take me into the Zone?” Dick didn’t know what he was feeling. Hope, fear, trust, touched, happiness, something.

A lot of things.

Danny shrugged. “Yeah. I trust you,” he said as he glanced back at Dick-at Nightwing. “Only you, though. No one else.”

The question that remained was whether Dick trusted Phantom too. And considering the fact that the ghost king ironically saved his ass from being killed a couple of times meant, “Yeah. I- I’d love to.”

Danny smiled, all pointed teeth and solemn trust. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Now?!” Dick stood up anyways, his heart in his throat. Danny held out a gloved hand.

“Yeah, now. Haven’t you heard that death waits for no one?” At Dick’s concerned look, Danny added, “Don’t worry. You won’t actually die. You’ll come back whole and alive, I promise.”

“Oh, okay. Let’s go, then!”

——

Clark Kent threw himself out of the window, Superman suit already on.

Seonds later, he was hovering in front of Bruce’s shadowy form on top of a gargoyle.

“Clark,” Batman greeted in his gravelly voice, irritated. “What.”

“Batman, Nightwing’s heartbeat- it disappeared!”

Bruce’s heartbeat stuttered.

[chellestrash]

Let me handle it.

Frank Castle x F!Reader

summary: After a long day at work you FINALLY get home and Frank decides to offer some help with redirecting your frustrations. warnings: strong language, explicit language, explicit content, pet names, praises, fingering, masturbation, unprotected sex. word count: 3.8k an: Hey heeey, me again...trying to get out of my writers block LIKE ALWAYS! I stg there isnt a fic on this blog that isn't my attempt to try and get back into writing but anyway. This was just something short and sweet I wanted to get out to hopefully get the gears moving again. Let me know what you think! I know the ending feels a bit rushed but I hope its alright. Reblogs and feedback appreciated as always! Hope you'll enjoy! OH and of course, thank you @chelseasdagger for helping with this one and im tagging @lucy-sky cause she requested that!

You push the front door open and sigh loudly at the sight of your apartment. The 8 hours of work felt particularly long today, and you swear at some points you weren't really sure if 5pm was actually going to come after all. The tiredness fills every inch of your body to the point that some parts actually, physically hurt as you get your coat and boots off before making your way over to the living room.

“There she is.”

Frank sits on the big couch in front of the TV, his ‘work’ clothes still on, so you assume it hasn’t been long since he got back as well. He looks better than you feel, though, one leg on the floor, the other propped up on the small coffee table. The TV remote is still in his hands, but you notice how he turns the screen off the second he notes your presence. 

Looking up at the sound of his voice, you do your best to smile in response, but the content expression fails to reach your eyes, and you turn your gaze back to the wooden floor before answering.

You mumble a quiet greeting under your nose and walk past the couch, past him and into the small now, thank god, dark bedroom. 

Frank frowns, turning his head as he watches you cross the living room and disappear behind the bedroom door. It’s not hard to pick up on the fact that something is clearly off. It’s not like you two cling to each other the second you step through the front door, but he knows something about the way you act today just doesn't feel how it should feel. He grunts, pushing himself up from his spot on the couch, and makes his way over to the bedroom.

Back in the small room, you attempt to get rid of your work clothes as fast as possible, longing for the simple yet unmatched comfort of one of Frank’s basic t shirts. You pick the one laying by the end of the bed, the one you knew he currently slept in, and softly pull the work shirt up and off over your head before ditching your bra too and tossing it off to the side. You can't be bothered to clean it up, not right now, probably not tonight. With the t shirt now on, you sit at the foot of the bed. 

A loud sigh exits your body as you attempt to take your pants off, but for some reason, the task proves harder than it would be on any other day. You fight with the fabric for another moment, frantically waving your legs back and forth with no avail before hiding your face in your hands, ready to dig the nails into your flesh with all the pent-up frustration of the week. 

“You need help with that?”

You drag your fingers down your face and turn to face him.

Frank stands in the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest as he leans onto the door frame, and you hope he wasn't here long enough to witness your meltdown. 

“I don’t… know.”

You admit, the overwhelming frustration wins over the slight embarrassment of the previous moment. 

Frank nods before pushing himself away from the door frame. He walks over to the bed without a word, and before you can try to explain yourself, you watch him get down on one knee in front of you with a grunt.

“Alright.”

He mumbles softly, fully kneeling in front of you now. Holding your calf softly in one hand, he pulls the fabric of your pants down your leg before switching to the other one. You watch silently as he gets rid of the clothes for you before tossing them off to the side, to be dealt with at some point during the week. 

“That better?”

He asks softly, and you nod, your body relaxing at the sensation of his fingers brushing up and down the back of your calves softly. 

“Work?”

He asks carefully, feeling the need to figure out what was wrong, but not wanting you to have to think about it again.

Closing your eyes, you sigh softly and nod once more, confirming his previous suspicion. 

“Want me to go out there…make sure this shit is sorted?”

The question makes you chuckle, and you breathe out a quiet laugh as your eyes find his again. He never looked away from you. 

“You gonna go beat the shit out of my boss?”

You finally speak up, pushing your fingers through Frank’s short hair, feeling it prickle your skin slightly as you do so. The familiar feeling somehow grounds you in the moment as you feel more present than before. 

Frank scoffs at your words, looking off to the side for a second before turning back to face you. That god-damn cocky smile makes you smile back at him almost instantly. 

“That what you want?”

He moves his hands up, fingers now brushing over your thighs as he pushes forward slightly, you spread your legs open some more to fit his wide frame between them. 

“I mean if you’re offering.”

You joke, and he breathes out through his nose quickly, shaking his head with a semi playful smile.

“Yeah, okay, you got it, kid.”

He mumbles before leaning down to press a kiss onto your thigh. Closing your eyes, you let out a quiet hum, the wet warmth of his lips present on your skin for a long couple of seconds before he finally pulls away. 

“How ‘bout I make you feel good? Hmm? That sounds okay?”

His voice rumbles through your body as he moves closer to you and the bed, gently lifting your one leg up and over his shoulder before he does the same with the other one.

“Fuck.”

You start, already feeling how your body begins to react to him, the warmth between your legs slowly growing more prominent.

“You don't understand how much I’d love that right now, I just…”

He stops, stops immediately and waits to hear you out.

“I’m too fucking tired to move, Frankie.”

“Who says you gotta do anythin’?”

The way he answers makes it feel like the most obvious thing in the universe, like how he doesn't understand how you could've thought of it in any other way than him giving you all he can offer.

“Shit, you think I’m gonna make you ride it or something?”

He looks up at you from where he's kneeling by the bed, eyebrows pulled together in a frown, as if he genuinely can not believe you’d think that.

“Think I’m gonna make you get on your knees? Suck me off and tell you you’re doing a good job, hmm? That what you think?”

You laugh, shaking your head, knowing he would never make a situation like this about himself. Yeah, you two enjoyed it when things got rough during sex, and you enjoyed ordering Frank around just as much as he did with you, but you both also understood the timing and feeling of this situation. You knew not everything always worked the same, and so did Frank. “If you did, you’d get a fucking knee to your stomach, you got that?”

You state and Frank scoffs once again.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He nods, pressing a kiss to the side of your thigh before helping you slide your legs off his shoulder.

“Alright.”

He starts after pushing himself off the floor.

“Lay down, kid, show me how you want it.”

He gestures to the bed, and you give him a big, bright smile for the first time since getting home from work. Turning your back to him, you climb up to the top of the bed before dropping onto one of the big pillows. With a satisfied groan, you bury your face into the soft fabric and close your eyes for a second before pulling one of your legs up, bending it at the knee. The movement causes the fabric of Frank’s shirt to slowly slide down the slope of your back, exposing both your panties and your ass to the man standing at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah? Like that?"

He asks in that deep, groggy voice, and you nod, rubbing your cheek against the pillow without bothering to open your eyes as you do so.

“Alright.”

He mumbles, and you feel the mattress dip under the weight of his body after a moment. You listen to your body, to its needs and wants, and push your ass out slightly towards him with a quiet, innocent moan.

Frank scoffs loudly, shaking his head as he climbs over you, his arms propped up on either side of your body as he holds himself up above you. 

“Thought you were too tired to pull that shit.”

He points out in a teasing manner, and you crack one eye open slowly, the corner of your mouth pulling up into a playful smile.

“Oh no, I’m never too tired to be a pain in the ass to you.”

You mumble, somewhat to him, somewhat into the fabric of the pillow, before he breathes out a small laugh and leans down to press a kiss right on your shoulder. You watch as the muscles in his arm tense when he's pushing himself up again.

“Yeah, okay, you gonna let me do this or do you want to keep being an ass?”

You grin at the word and glance back at him, but he cuts you off before you manage to say anything.

“Don’t, do not fucking answer that.”

You laugh out loud, but the laughter quickly turns into a deep grunt when Frank pushes his hands against your ass. You feel his fingers digging into your body when he squeezes you tight, and you lift your hips up slightly, pushing into his touch. 

“Yeaaah, s’what I thought, you like that?”

You hum softly and hope it’s enough of an answer as the firm grip on your body disappears for a second, just to come back a moment later. 

“I got you now, kid, s okay."

He grumbles, pushing your legs apart some so he can sit in between them, right behind your ass. Pushing the hem of your shirt up, he gently brushes his fingers over your back. His hands make their way to the sides of your body, fingertips brushing up and down your ribs for a moment, and you let out a loud sigh.

“That’s it, good girl, again.”

You repeat the deep breath in and a calm exhale, allowing him to lead you through this, this one time. Dragging his hands lower and lower down your body, Frank works his fingers over your skin. The firm but gentle sensation of his touch spreads from your back and sides to your ass, then lower onto the back of your thighs and then calves when he reaches his arm behind his back. 

“Mmmm, Frankie”

Your hips push up once again when his thumbs dig into the spot right under your ass, and he breathes out a laugh. 

“Yeah, okay.”

You don’t have to explain it to him, he knows how to read your body. Slowly dragging his thumb over the fabric of your panties, he slips his four other fingers between your legs, cupping your pussy over your underwear. 

You whine quietly, your eyes still closed as he begins to draw small circles against your most sensitive spot, the tension in your body releasing into his touch. 

Humming quietly, you snuggle into the pillow, letting yourself fully relax now as the stress of the day leaves with your satisfied hum.

“Yeah? This what you like? Hmm?”

You push yourself back into his hand, leaning harder into his touch as an answer, and Frank tightens his hold onto you in response. The intensity of the sensation rises as he pushes his fingers harder against you. 

The tired, but honest smile on your face indicates how good of a job he’s doing. Well, that and the way the fabric of your underwear dampens more as the minutes pass by.

“Frank-“

You mumble out quietly, reaching your hand behind your back and hooking your fingers under the hem of your panties.

His touch disappears immediately as he pulls his hands away from your body, letting you dictate exactly what happens. 

He watches you fiddle with the fabric for a moment before you quickly tug it down your thighs and assists once it gets stuck behind your ass.

“Yeah that’s it sweetheart, show me what you want.”

You push your ass up slightly with an inpatient sigh once he slides the fabric down past your ankles and tosses it off to the side.

Once again, his big, warm hands find their way to your back, fingers pressing into your skin as he takes a moment to massage your muscles in your back, and then you feel him push the fabric up higher to tend to your shoulders as well. Feeling the bulge between his legs press into your ass the second he leans down to trace the back of your neck with his lips, you hum satisfied, eyes still closed, lips curled up into a smile. 

“Really, Frankie? That much?”

You tease, and he rolls his eyes at your words, shaking his head with a sly smirk still on. 

“Yeaaah yeah, shut up.”

He starts before leaning back down, his lips right by your ear this time. His hand pushes down between your legs, touching you directly now, and you know he can feel your body’s response to the whole thing.

“Really, kid? This much?” 

You huff out a laugh as a response and reach behind you to wrap your fingers around his wrist and keep his hand in place. 

“Not like it's my fault.”

You mumble quietly and hear Frank’s chuckle from behind you.

“Okay, calm down, just tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want to feel good.”

“Yeah?”

You nod.

“Want me to make you feel good, baby?”

Another nod before you feel Frank’s hand push under your body and cup your chest firmly. His thumb brushes over your nipple as his lips brush down your spine, over your back. Feeling your body slow down, you allow yourself to relax properly as the warm, familiar feeling grows stronger between your legs. 

He pushes his hand right there again, touching you right where you long for it the most.

“Mhmmm.”

You hum quietly, as his three fingers push between your folds before he starts tracing circles around your clit. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling, your body finally relaxing after the exhausting day. Maybe in some other circumstances your mind would slip. If you were alone, if you tried to distract yourself on your own, your mind would wander, but not now. Not with Frank right there in the bed with you. He made it…difficult to focus on anything else, knew how to keep your mind occupied, how to prevent your thoughts from wandering where you didn't want them to go. 

His touch strengthens, and you feel your back arching slightly with a quiet moan slipping past your lips.

“Ah-fuck.”

You grunt the moment his fingers slip inside you. 

“Shh shh shh-”

Frank mumbles quietly, pushing them further in with ease thanks to your body’s intense reaction to his generous attempts to help.

“That okay?”

His low, groggy mumbling continues while he pushes his thumb against you, working on your clit as you feel yourself clenching around his thick fingers. Frank grunts loudly, watching your involuntary response to his question.

“Yeaah, s’what I thought.”

“Mmmmm-you’re pushing it.”

You whisper and he scoffs.

“Yeah? Shit, am I- hmm?”

He lowers the tone of his voice to match yours, leaning back down with his lips right by your ear yet again.

“Just tryna make you feel good, baby.”

He reassures you, watching your lips part as you feel the center of his palm push flat against your center, the wet sounds of your body filling the room slowly as he begins to slip his fingers in and out of your body once, twice, and again, again and again.

You hum loudly this time, biting into your lower lip before you angle your lower back up slightly in an attempt to chase the sensation every time he slips his fingers out almost completely. 

“Frank-”

You start, but he cuts you off, pressing his thumb harder against your clit. 

“Mmm, Frank-”

You repeat yourself with a loud moan before your muscles tense up, and you use the built-up force to push your ass back into him when you feel him slip his three fingers out of your pussy again.

“Ah- Fuck!”

He groans at the unexpected feeling, panting loudly when your ass pushes against the bulge in his pants, and you feel his tight grip on your thighs once you push into him again.

“Shit- okay, okay-”

He does his best to focus once again, and you breathe out a laugh, entertained by the slight shift in the dynamic.

“You okay there, Castle?”

You purr, glancing back to watch the way his eyes focus on your ass, feeling his hips buck up into you slightly. 

“Shit-”

Letting go of your thigh, he reaches up, quickly grabbing one of the pillows lying by your head before lifting your hips up a couple inches above the mattress and sliding it right under your body to help with the angle.

“Good?”

He asks, glancing up at you, the big, brown eyes fixed on yours as he awaits your answer for a moment before you nod quickly. 

“Couldn't have done it better myself.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he drags his hand down your back, stopping right above your ass.

“Yeah no shit-”

You roll your eyes at his words and rest your head back on the pillow, closing your eyes one more time. The sound of the metal buckle of his belt travels through your entire body, and you feel a slight tingling sensation between your legs. Pushing them apart softly, you earn yourself another

“Oh, fuck-”

From Frank, as he now gets to properly see the fruit of his labor. You lay in front of him, naked from the waist down, your legs spread open, your pussy wet from how he touched you before. 

“God damn it, kid-.”

He whispers quietly under his breath. 

“You know how perfect you look? Hmm?”

He asks, working his hand under the waistband of his boxers to pull himself out. 

“I ever tell you that?”

“Once or twice.”

You tease, answering the question without opening your eyes, arching your back slightly to make sure he gets a good view. 

“Ffff-”

You glance back this time, the wet sounds convincing you the view would be worth it, and it is. You watch for a moment as he works his hand over the length of his cock, his lips parted as he pants loudly with every other stroke, his fingers wrapped tightly around his length.

Gradually slowing down the movement, Frank holds onto the base of his cock, lining himself up with your exposed center. You hum softly, and your hips rise off of the mattress the moment you feel the head of his cock between your legs.

“Mhmm, just like that.”

You whisper to encourage him, with a slight note of impatience in the tone of your voice. 

“Yeah? So..s that what you want me to do?”

“Frank.”

You warn him, knowing exactly where this is going.

“What if I just-”

He continues.

“Frank, don't you f-”

He cuts you off, pushing his cock in between your folds and your whole body jerks forward at the sudden, unexpected sensation accompanied by a loud moan that slips past your lips.

“Fr- fuck!”

You swear, gripping the bed sheets before pushing your ass back against his cock, feeling it rub over your center, between your folds and nudging at your sensitive clit. 

Frank laughs loudly, louder than he should in your opinion, considering this was his–and his only–fault. 

“Shiiit kid, didn't mean to get you this bad.”

He attempts to calm your body, his big hand resting on your lower back as he continues to slide his cock in between your folds, teasing your entrance and clit with every single one of your now sped up breaths. 

“Frank, this- isn't helping.”

You whine out, listening to your body, desperate to feel him inside now.

“Give- shit, give me a second here, kid, this-”

He pants louder now, his other hand on your ass, spreading you open for a better view. 

“I swear to god if you come before I get to feel you, I’m sleeping alone.”

He scoffs loudly, hanging his head low as he stops touching himself. 

“That a threat?”

He questions your intentions with that sly smirk on his face, and you prop your chest up slightly.

“Wanna find out?”

You glance back, eyebrow raised.

“Nah, won't risk it.”

He states quietly, his chest rising and falling quickly, his cock hard between your legs. 

“You scared of me, Castle?”

You mumble the question out as you lay back down on the big pillow, feeling the head of his cock right at your entrance now. 

“Yeah, actually, how did you know?”

“Luck guess.”

“Yeah?”

He continues the conversation, pushing his cock inside you slowly. You let your lips part, fall open as you feel him deeper and deeper inside you. You can feel the way it stretches you open, a familiar feeling you got used to since being with Frank. 

“That good? Hmm?”

He asks quietly, leaning slowly over your body as he thrusts into you.

“Mhmmm.”

You hum out a confirmation as the movements continue, you feel your body rocking back and forth with his body, with the bed. 

“Good, wouldn't wanna be on your bad side.”

The thrusts grow stronger as he reaches up to hold onto the headboard, grunting loudly as you clench around him. 

With his cock buried deep inside you, you manage another response.

“Keep doing what you're doing, and you'll be safe.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The trusting continues for a while after, as he tries to do his best to keep it together long enough for you to feel satisfied. His other hand wraps around your throat at some point, and he lifts your head up slightly. Your breathing speeds up, and you pant loudly through your parted lips as you feel yourself getting closer to the climax.

"Attagirl, you feel it?"

He asked, no cockiness in his voice this time. It's an honest question, he sounded almost concerned.

"Mhm."

Your quiet hum has to work as an answer for now as you grip the bed sheets tighter, feeling his cock nude the underside of your stomach from within you.

"God damn it, kid-"

He mumbles into your shoulder, lips brushing over your skin when he feels your walls clenching around him harder now.

"Frank-"

"Shh shh shh, I got it."

He reassures you, resting your head back onto the mattress before reaching down between your legs.

"You just relax, kid, let me do this for you."

[0mg-bird]

All the Good Stuff ~ B. Floyd x Fem! Reader

Summary: This is basically a list of little imagines of what it would be like over the course of yours and Bob’s relationship.

Warnings: Bob’s the best partner, sweet fluff!, suggestive content, language.

• Bob would be so nervous on a first date because he’s struck out in the past, so when you ask about a second date, he is in shock at your enthusiasm. He’d play it cool around you but would go home and fist bump.

•Being the perfect gentleman he is, he doesn’t expect anything on the first or second date. So when he drives you home on your second date, he’s a little shocked at the way you melt into him at your front door. As soon as you show it’s okay, he’s holding your waist, pulling you into him as he kisses you slowly. He’s the kind of guy to take his time so you’re standing there with your arms around his neck for a while, while you both savor each other.

•This man is in love with you even before you sleep together and that scares him. When the two of you are calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend, he takes you to a beach day with his squad and everyone watches how enamored he is with you. Jake says “The sex must be good if you’re acting this hung up on her” when you’re away with Natasha, and Bob gets soooo red. The boys make him explain his weird behavior and when he admits you guys haven’t had sex yet, they all blow up. They’re asking so many questions like ‘why not?’ and ‘what if it’s bad?’ and at one point Bradley actually shakes his shoulders and asks if he’s stupid or just dumb. Bob explains that you don’t seem like you’re ready and Brad and the guys all share a look like ‘what an idiot’. Then they explain all the signs you give that you want him.

•The sex is not bad.

•It all starts with an argument, you finally break down and ask if he’s just not attracted to you. Bob is so confused and has to ask why you think that, then you just yell ‘because you won’t fuck me!’ and that snaps Bob out of his overly nice guy headspace. You guys end up going most of the night, because by the time one round would finish and you’d rest for a second, you two were back at it again because it just felt too good.

• Bob said ‘I love you’ first, on accident. You’d been dating for a month, maybe a little more, and he’d leave your house after a night in together. You kiss him goodbye at the front door, watching him step away from the threshold. You lean against the open door, looking utterly peaceful and cute to him. “I’ll text you in the morning.” He says because he is always up before you, so you like to wake up to a good morning text. You nod and bite your lip. “Okay, good night.” You’d say, then laugh as he kisses you one more time. When he pulls away, he nudges his nose against yours and then turns. “Good night, I love you.” He doesn’t even realize it right away, he takes about four steps before he pauses with realization. You stand there in shock, realizing what he just said. “I…didn’t mean to say that.” He tries to take it back but you just grin widely. “Do you mean that?” You ask, and when he sighs and nods, you rush back into him.

•Bob never thought that he was a very physical person, but since being with you, he loves affection. He’s like a puppy, honestly. He’s always on you in some way, his hand on your back, knees pressed together when sitting beside each other, his finger twisting around a strand of your hair. You are much like him in this aspect, he makes you feel so comfortable and safe that you are utterly relaxed in public when you’re with him. He lets you play with his fingers, trace shapes on the backs of his hands or on his arms, your head finds a way to rest on shoulder, your finger hooks in one of his belt loops.

•This man is calling his Mama and talking about you, it makes him feel like a teenage kid because of how twitter-pated you make him. He could go on and on about how you’re such a kind person, how big your heart is, how you are so intoxicating. He wants to take bigger steps with you but doesn’t want it to be too soon. His mom has to reassure him that when it’s right, it’s right and when he knows, he’ll know.

•You guys move in together at the six month mark.

•This is when he discovers he has a housewife kink. He comes home to you unpacking a few boxes in some sweatpants and one of his t-shirts? He’s hard. Watching you fold towels or wash dishes? He pushing you up against the counter and dipping his head to your neck.

•You’re trying so so hard to be perfect for him because you just want to take care of him, but somehow you burn dinner often. You never had to cook for another person before, you were completely fine with a cup of ramen noodles. But you loved your Bobby, you wanted to prove you could do this. You got so frustrated at yourself when you mess something up, it honestly broke Bob’s heart. He’d ask for seconds on purpose, just to make you feel better.

•Bob buys a ring a month before your one year mark and he’s so sure about this decision. On your year anniversary, he takes you out to dinner and then you guys walk across the beach as the sun is sinking. Natasha planned everything out, her and some of the boys were hiding on the platform trail that’s on a hill above the beach. Even though Jake pretends it’s too sappy, he is standing with binoculars, watching every move you two make and reporting it to Bradley who’s trying to get the camera ready to record. Natasha ends up snatching the phone from Brad because he’s got his finger in front of the camera. Bob is so nervous that his hands are so shaky and he can hardly breathe. At one point, you stop to walk closer to the waters edge to pick up a pretty shell. When you turn back around to show him, he’s down on one knee, holding a velvet ring box out to you. When you agree to marry him, he pulls the ring from the cushion and goes to slide it on your finger, but he’s still shaking so much that it falls into the sand. Jake is making fun of him for it for two weeks.

•You’re so obsessed with the fairly large diamond on your hand, Bob catches you always looking at it. Even during the times you’re on top of him, hand on his chest while you’re grinding down on his lap, or when you’re gripping his shoulder as he’s knocking you into the headboard, you’re eyes are watching the shiny rock on your hand.

• The crew thinks something’s actually wrong with the two of you because you’re always a ‘yes honey’ couple and never quarrel, but everyone gets to their whits end at some point. You and Bob hardly fight, but when you do, it’s all heated arguments and frustrated sighs. You guys fight when the other is feeling a little insecure about something, the problem is you don’t communicate right, until everything bubbles over. You could be feeling that Bob is hiding problems from you, claiming he’s okay because he doesn’t want to stress you out, then he’ll go and have long conversations with Nat or Brad. You guys eventually spiral until every other little thing that’s annoying you is spilled, and by the end of it you’re crying and storming off. Only once did you ever throw your engagement ring at him and claim that you will not be with someone who won’t take you seriously as a partner, and that broke Bob. He was so hurt that he lashed out and said some unkind words he’d never ever mean, then left home to clear his head. When he came home after about an hour, he found you curled in bed, face red from crying so hard. You guys talked it out, he slide your ring back on and once you two understood each other, he made you promise to never do that again, no matter how mad he made you because it made him feel absolutely horrible.

•He loves waking up on days where he doesn’t need to go anywhere or do anything. You’re always curled into him or sprawled across his chest. He used to sleep with a tank top on because for some reason you could not understand, he was a little insecure about himself. You hated that, he was built to absolute perfection, you could spend hours just running your lips and fingers over his toned chest and the muscles the lightly ribbed his stomach. So, Bob slept in mostly just boxers, flannel pants in the winter. You had convinced him to be bare when you told him you liked feeling his skin on yours, it also helped that you hid those white tanks from him until he felt normal to have you pressed against him.

• He’s always been modest, but you found out just how much Bob had in savings when he told you that when you got married, you didn’t have to work if you didn’t want to. Then, when he bought you the wedding dress you had your eyes on since you first searched through bridal shops, no questions asked. You called your best friend and determined he was sent from above. You were never impressed by money, and you’d love Bob if he didn’t have what he has, but knowing that you were financially secure, it made you want to show your appreciation for all he does, every day.

•The bachelor/bachelorette parties went crazy. You and your party are bar hopping, you’re wearing a plastic tiara that says ‘bride’ and Bob’s never seen you drunk before so when you run into him at the hard deck, all he does is laugh at you. You were scared that he wasn’t going to have fun because all his friends drink and he doesn’t, but he spent the night making Payback and Fanboy do stupid stuff for him.

•You never were a fan of over the top weddings, you liked elegant things but didn’t feel the need for an over the top day. You had planned for what seemed like forever, then the day finally came and everything turned out beautifully. Bob was a nervous wreck, he’s got a little anxiety so that didn’t help his nerves. He stood at the end of the isle, watching all the groomsmen and bridesmaids come down, then when everyone stood and a piano rendition of your favorite song played, he looked up and there you were.

• You’re trying not to cry the entire time even though he is.

• Bradley gets drunk and cries during the first dance and Nat has to make him sit down and drink some water before he makes a fool of himself.

• You and Bob honeymoon in some place like Greece or maybe Rome because you both are huge nerds for pretty sights and history. It’s so peaceful that he totally forgets you guys have a life back home and he has a pretty important job.

• When you guys come home, he drives in the other direction of your house so you think he’s lost his mind. When you ask what he’s doing, he just says you’re going home and then pulls into the driveway of a gorgeous two story house that has a very rustic charm to it. This man had your little two bedroom house packed up while you were away and had everything moved into this gorgeous house he picked out.

• You fall in love with life, everything seems so perfect. You’re closer to your family and friends, the sun soaked hardwood floors are always supporting your bare feet as you dance around. Bob loves music, there’s a book shelf full of records and CDs and he’s always twirling you around or slow dancing you in the kitchen.

•He makes sure you have everything you need before he deploys for over a month on a mission. This is the first deployment you experience with him and it’s the first real test on your marriage. Going from sleeping beside someone every night to falling asleep alone was a strange adjustment. He calls you when he can, you’re always lying in one of his shirts, listening to him talk about his day. “I miss you, Bobby.” You’d say, making him smile on the other line. “I miss you too, honey.” He’d say.

• When he comes back home, it’s like a wrecking ball. Bob’s never been an overpowering dominant person, but there’s nothing calm about him when you two get home after not seeing each other. The front door is practically knocked down, it’s slammed shut so hard that you yelp, afraid the hinges might just snap. He’s pushing you up against the wall in the hallway, backing you up against it so hard that one of the framed pictures falls from the place it was hung. You’re so utterly at a loss for words at his animalistic behavior, yet you’re so excited and turned on because he isn’t like this. You’re pulling at his uniform, leaving parts of it on the stairs. Your sundress is thrown onto the bathroom tile as he pulls you into the shower with him, both of you still half dressed. Soaking wet, peeling fabric off each other, it may start in the shower but it doesn’t end there. He’s carrying you to the perfectly made bed, hair still wet, he’s pushing you into the mattress, his dog tags are hanging above you and you wrap your finger around the chain to pull him closer. The house looks like a tornado ripped through it buy the time both of you are too tired to continue. You honestly think you black out because when you wake up on the living room floor, you don’t remember exactly how you got there.

• You might just die when Bob goes to answer the door, hopping into a pair of sweatpants. You remember getting dressed when you thought you were done…then you remember tearing those sweatpants off of him. He opens the door, eyes immediately widening as he looks at who’s on the other side. “Hi.” He greets awkwardly. “My daughter hasn’t answered my calls, I was just seeing if she was alright.” The woman says, hugging her son in law. You hear your mother’s voice and panic, trying to stand and search for a hoodie to slip on to cover yourself. You limp over, very aware at how sore your body feels, and hide yourself behind your husband. You have to explain that your phone was dead and that’s why you didn’t answer…nothing else. But she looks between the two of you and then behind you to the catastrophe of a home. “You’re going to get pregnant.” She tells you. “That’s sort of the goal, ma’am.” Bob responds.

• You took sex ed in school, you know what happens when you have unprotected sex, but truthfully you believed the birth control that you mixed up the days on had your back. You start feeling a little funny, then when you’re late on your next cycle, the fear sets in. You don’t know why you’re scared, you have no reason to be, but you still are. Standing, looking at all the different tests hung on the shelf, you decide that one of each couldn’t hurt. You debate on who to call, once you decide, your best friend is there within ten minutes. “Why’d you buy every single one to ever be made in the world?” They ask as you lay them all out on the bathroom counter. “I didn’t buy every one in the world…just the ones made in America.” You respond. It’s the longest five minutes you ever experienced, you sit on your bed crying and freaking out, hashing out every little thing that could go wrong. Your best friend is there to call you crazy and debunk every fear. “It’s too soon.” “You got married after only knowing him a year.” “What if Bob decides he doesn’t want this?” “That man sends you onesies with planes on them all the time.” “What if he doesn’t love me after I give birth?” “He’d love you if you were a worm.” “What if I can’t do it? I’ve never raised a kid before.” “You’ll be fine.” After the timer goes off and you dry your face, you two walk back into the bathroom slowly. Every single test you took is positive. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m pregnant.” Is all you could say, first in fright, but soon you’re jumping up and down and screeching like a teenage girl.

• Bob comes home from work, unzipping his flight suit as soon as he walks through the door. You come to meet him in the foyer, kissing him sweetly. “Hi.” He smiles. “I’ll go take a quick shower, then I’ll be down for dinner, okay?” You just nod, keeping quiet so you didn’t burst into tears right away. You hear his shower going, and you pace back and forth in the kitchen, shaking. Every shape and color of the tests you took are laid on the table, you don’t even know what to tell him when he comes down. He’s starting to tell you about something that happened when he pauses, curious as he walks to the table. “What…what’s all this?” He asks, picking one of the tests up, looking at the two pink lines. Then he picks up another, and another before it starts to click in his mind. He looks at you, eyes full of hope. “You’re pregnant?” You nod, starting to cry. “Yeah, Bobby, I’m pregnant.” He immediately wraps his arms around you, kissing you sweetly. He’s so over joyed, he can’t even think straight.

• For nine months, he treats you like you’ll break and though you love him for it, you think it’s all a little dramatic. He’s so gentle and understanding throughout everything, even when your hormones are just totally unbalanced and you’re crying or yelling for no reason. He’s so caring and helps you with anything he can, and when the baby is born he makes sure you’re the top priority too.

•Dad Bobby is hot.

[mattslolita]

melting - m. sturniolo

in which ... a period scare happens in the middle of the night, and matt takes care of you. ( boyfriend!matt x black!fem reader )

warnings ; mentions of menstrual cycle, crying, fluff

"𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒉𝒐𝒘, 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ

a horrible sickness had fallen over you when you woke up in the middle of the night, as you clutched your stomach. a low wail came from your mouth as tears pricked at your eyes from the cramping sensation that spread throughout your lower abdomen.

as you wiped away stray tears, you noticed your boyfriend shifting beside you, and you gasped lowly trying not to wake him.

an almost barely wet substance could be felt in your underwear and your nose scrunched in discomfort — when you pulled the sheets back, your eyes widen and you gasped.

a medium red stain had found its way right under the same spot you had slept in, and tears spilled from your eyes as you seen it. visions of your ex boyfriend filled your mind.

"i-i'm so sorry, i didn't-"

"i don't wanna hear it, you're fucking disgusting!"

"i can't control it, it's-"

"yes the fuck you can, and you will! get the fuck out, y/n."

sobs began to escape your throat as you clasped your hand over your mouth, causing matt to stir in his sleep once again.

upon hearing your soft cries, his head perked up immediately, turning his body around with a concerned expression as his eyes had fallen on your crestfallen state.

"m-matt, i'm so sorry..."

"baby? what's-"

before he could finish a shaky finger pointed out the red stain on his sheets — his eyes widen at first but he immediately looks back to you to see your hands covering your face, but then one hand reaches down to hold your stomach.

"you're so mad at me, i'm so sorry..."

"baby, sh, you're okay," matt quickly soothes you, hurriedly getting up and out of bed and going over to your side. "come here, beautiful."

sobs still escaping your lips, matt carefully guides you away from the bed and into the bathroom which was attached to his room — he stops you in front of the sink, gently grabbing your chin to look up at him.

"calm down love, okay?" matt asks you softly, rubbing his thumb over your cheek, "i want you to get undressed and i'll run you a bath. soak in there for a while and I'll change the sheets and when you're done, we can watch a movie and cuddle. deal?"

"okay..." you agree, wiping at your eyes as you plant a soft kiss to his lips, "thank you."

"no problem sweetheart," matt smiles softly, helping you take your clothes off.

shy under his gaze, you lift your arms when he takes your shirt off for you as well as the rest of your clothing — he quickly goes to turn the bathtub on and put the drainer inside, carefully helping you inside.

right when you eased yourself into the water the warm substance relaxes your muscles as matt is quick to leave the bathroom almost slipping in the process.

knowing your hair could get messed up, matt grabs a stray cloth band off of the counter and gathers your braids in his hand, putting it in a bun likes he's watched you do plenty of times, causing a smile to grace your lips as he pecks your cheeks then rushes out the bathroom.

you could hear shuffling outside the door, as you look out while you let the water fill up in the tub. you see matt pacing back and forth, causing you to giggle.

he comes back into the doorway of the bathroom holding multiple items in his hand, and you widen your eyes slightly.

"s-so i got both the pads and tampons cause i'm not sure which one you wanted to use then i popped us some popcorn, cheese like you like then um i got some oreos too cause i know you like chocolate on your period then i also got the breakfast club for the movie, is that okay?" matt rambles.

you giggled slightly. "it's perfect, matt. thank you."

"of course, baby," matt smiles at you, about to leave again, "now i just need to-"

"hey matt?" you say to him, causing him to stop and look at you.

"yes?"

"i love you," you tell him softly, a smile tugging at your lips as you look up at the boy.

he smiles at you gently. "i love you most, y/n."

( lilly's section 💌 )

haiiii i was gonna make this a little longer but got lazy sorry☹ hope you guys like it <3

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @prettiest-poision @mattsturniolosleftnut @mrssturnioloo @guccifrog @junnniiieee07 @astrowh0r3 @v33angel @ilovechrissturniolo1 @e1ias3 @l0akkzz @hysteria-things @eyeliketoeatpoosay @sturn777 @stasiesturn @prettypinkprincess15 @breeloveschris @summerssover @mayhem-72 @riasturns @chrissturniolossidehoe @moonk1ss3d @v33angel @h3arts4harry @stargirll567 @bitchydragonparadise @heartsforchrisandmatt @pepsienthusiasts @tillies33ssss @thenickgirl @sturnprime @summerssover @k4di333

[soapssuds]

blindsided pt 1

simon ghost riley x fem!reader

summary | you're blind and haven't realized that you were in the apocalypse. thankfully, some military men point that fact out to you.

based off of this

Your alarm blared loudly causing you to groan and reach for it. You fumbled for a hot minute, but managed to hit the off button before sitting up. You were forever grateful that your mother set up your alarm for you since you didn’t have the eyes to do it yourself. Well, you had eyes, of course, you were just blind.

Yawning slightly, you moved so that you were sitting on the edge of your bed, your feet planted on the ground. And the moment you did that your could hear the faint pitter-patter of your beloved service dog, Bob.

Bob was a chill and quiet dog, only ever barked and pulled roughly at you when a car was speeding towards you. And Bob was smart. Too smart, in fact, cause he always growled and showed his teeth when someone would flip him the middle finger for shits and giggles. He didn’t like the disrespect.

“Do you know what today is?!”

You felt your dog jump, his front paws landing in your lap as he leaned in and licked your cheek.

“That’s right, buddy! Grocery store today!”

Bob jumped off of you as you stood up, your feet shuffling a bit as you reached for your trusty walking stick.

“Let’s get ready and beat the morning rush, yeah?”

You could feel Bob’s tail happily hit against you before he trotted off to the kitchen, you smiling as you followed after.

Your morning routine was simple. Hit your pinky toe a few times, hope to god the clothes you put on aren’t inside out or backwards, pop in some toast and maybe even indulge in some pancakes, while also being sure to feed Bob. Then, if you have to go somewhere, strap Bob into his harness, get your shoes and socks on and head on right out the door (while being sure to not forget your wallet in the process).

“I hope the store isn't ’t so bad,” you said as you locked your front door before turning to walk down your sidewalk, “and that the busses aren’t crowded…,” you shivered at the memory of having a bunch of snot nosed brats petting your service dog while also being forced to stand in the overcrowded vehicle.

And as soon as you reached the end of your driveway, you heard a large crash from the house in front of you, most likely Jerry knocking over his trashcan again. Ugh… Jerry. The man was annoying as hell, and a pervert.

Just because you were blind doesn’t mean you couldn’t feel his stare on you. It gave you the creeps!

“The hell?”

Stopping you heard hurried footsteps coming towards you from Jerry’s house, your lips immediately setting into a tight line. I swear, if he is going to try and touch me again-

The moment you felt his hands grab you, you tightened your grip on your walking stick/cane and swung it down hard on his ankle. You were surprised he didn’t let our a pained scream instead of a loud groan, but was satisfied when you heard him fall to the ground and let you go.

“Sorry about your ankle Jerry, but I did warn you about touching me and grabbing me like that. Put some ice on it, and, God, take a shower. You smell like a rotting corpse!”

Crinkling your nose, Bob got the message and started walking in the direction of the main street towards the doctor’s office. Unbeknownst to you though… Jerry had gotten up and started to hobble after you, albeit slowly. But you were already far away from him to notice or care. If he had something to say to you then it better be an apology. Other than that, you weren’t interested.

After a few more minutes of walking, your dog stopped causing you to smile.

“Finally made it to the bus stop.”

You released a sigh of relief as you stood there for a few minutes. Bob sat down next to your feet. And as you waited at the bus stop, you started to get antsy. Usually other people would start to wait with you, but it must be a slow day, or… you missed the bus. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.

Then your phone dinged, signaling you that you were going to be late for the bus if you didn’t get a move on. (Your mother helped you set up alarms for when the bus stops.)

“Darn it,” you muttered, “guess I missed the bus. Come on, Bob, let’s get going.”

Pulling the leash a bit, your dog got up and started walking again. And as you walked and got out the neighborhood and more into the city, you found that everywhere was more… trashy. It was weird. It was like you were walking over more things than you typically would.

You tried to ignore the nervous feeling in your stomach, something that Bob easily took notice of as he stopped so you could catch your breath. You don’t know what’s going on with you today. Was it just nerves?

Shaking your head, you fumbled a moment before finding Bob’s head and giving him a gentle pat between the ears, “let’s… let’s just go to the small gas station shop instead, yeah?”

Bob let out a quiet woof as he started walking again, presumably to the small little gas station instead of the grocery store. Your doctor always told you to take things easy if you felt something was off after all.

And after one more block, Bob stopped in front of the door to the gas station. It was odd that there weren’t any cars trying to fill up during the morning rush, but you decided not to think about it.

“Morning, tommy!”

Your voice rang out when you opened the door (after embarrassingly missing the handle a couple of times), but surprisingly Tommy didn’t answer. Instead, you heard a loud thump in the back.

He must be in the storage closet; you thought with a grin.

“Come on, Bob.”

You tugged gently on his harness as you went through the various shelves. Frowning every now and then when you felt how little the supply was with your cane, “what the-?”

You stopped for a moment, “Hey, Tommy! Where is everything? Did you forget to restock?”

You had called out to him again, but instead of an answer, you hear another loud thump and rolled your eyes.

“Let’s just find what we can, Bob.”

You managed to snag a bag of chips, some tampons, and even a few more extra snacks and two small bags of dog food. Bob would always woof once for good products or two times for no, put that back. You always wondered how Bob got so smart, but you were thankful, nonetheless.

Then, going to the counter, you didn’t bother to wait for Tommy as you went behind it and bagged your items yourself after ringing them up and getting exact change out of your wallet. Your bills and such were stamped with brail, so that way you could tell if you were handing someone a dollar or a twenty, deciding not to fiddle with the cash register, you placed twenty-five on the counter.

“Money’s by the cash register,” you called out but was only greeted with an even louder thump from the storage closet. Shrugging, you folded your cane and slipped it into one of the plastic bags and slung them over your shoulder while opening one of the chip bags you got.

Popping a chip in your mouth you tugged the harness with your free hand, “let’s go home, Bob.”

Bob let out a small woof and tugged you to the door.

“Man, these are some pretty good chips. Here, try some!”

You flicked a piece up in the air, and not a moment later did you hear Bob snap at it and crunch it between his teeth. You could feel how his tail wagged when being granted the chip. It made you grin.

Meanwhile, four men were on the other side of the street. All of them decked out in military gear.

“Not a single living person in this whole damn city!”

“Quiet, Soap.”

“But-“

As Soap was bickering with their Captain for the tenth time that day, Ghost found his mind wandering. A part of himself still unbelieving that this situation exists. Just a month ago he was on deployment. He didn’t expect to come back to this.

Though, his thoughts were soon interrupted when he glanced across the street towards the little mart, the door opening wide as a dog walked out first followed by some.. girl? Fucking hell.

He glanced towards Price who got the message, and looked to where Ghost had his sights on.

“Soap, you’re about to eat those words.”

Soap finally looking to where everyone else was including Gaz, brightened almost immediately at the sight of you.

“I’ll be damned,” he said as he raised his arm up to wave, “hey, you! Lass with the dog!”

Minding your own business, you didn’t expect to be called out to. Especially by someone with such a weird accent-

You turned, “uhhh- yeah?”

You tried to muster up a voice loud enough in hopes that they heard you.

“Ye blind lass? We’re over here!”

You couldn’t stop the heat of embarrassment cross over your features as you still couldn’t tell which way his voice was shouting at you from except from the fact that he was somewhere behind you.

“Actually,” you called back out, “I am!”

“You’re what?”

“I’m blind!”

There was a heavy silence that followed and thinking that you have successfully turned down someone catcalling you, you turned back in the direction of your home and motioned for Bob to move again.

“Hold up!”

You frowned when you felt this person grab your shoulder, the way his grip felt sending a jolt through your body momentarily. This guy was stronger than Jerry, your walking stick probably won’t even leave a bruise if you try to hit him. Not that you could, though, since you put your cane in one of your plastic bags.

Bob let out a small growl, you didn’t need eyes to see that his was raised into a mohawk.

“Listen, I’m just trying to get home. I’m not in the mood to get mugged or anything like that, and- and if you do try something my dog will bite.”

Wrong, Bob was sweet. Sure he growled at aggressive people but he wouldn’t hurt anyone. He was a service dog, and a violent service dog wasn’t a good one. (You begged to differ, especially in situations like these-)

“Soap, let her go.”

The grip on your shoulder quickly disappeared as soon a the new voice popped in. Ok, so there are two guys.

“Sorry to frighten you love, but seeing you out here just through us off guard was all.”

You scrunched your face up, “why? It’s natural to go outside, isn’t?”

You didn’t realize that they looked amongst each other until a new voice popped up, this one a bit rougher than the others, “do you know what is even going on around you?”

You furrowed your brow, “no?”

Three guys. Ok so there are three men-

“Love, it’s an apocalypse.”

Four men-

You shook your head at that, “the what now?! That’s- that’s impossible! I mean, just earlier I hit Jerry in the ankle-“

“You mean the zombie that’s slowly hobbling towards us?”

“Pervert Jerry is a zombie?!”

You wished that you stayed in bed this morning. Cause like, what the hell?!

[p0ssywhippedcream]

zuko cuddles 🫶🏻

It had been a long day for everyone. Azula finding you all at the air temple and forcing you to evacuate. Once you had set up camp, you wandered off to go find something to eat while the others did some variant of a chore.

You cooked, laughed together and everything was good for a while. Then you realized as you were setting up your tent that there wasn't enough room for everybody. Katara decided to share with Toph and Suki decided she didn't want to be stuck with Aang and her boyfriend all night so she joined them too. That left you and Zuko with the last tent because everybody else was weary of him and Sokka had already closed off his tent.

Aang pulled you aside and asked, "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Yeah," You said, "There's no reason to not use our third tent and I don't want you or the girls to feel crowded."

Then, everybody had settled in, saying their goodnights and sweet dreams and it was just you and Zuko, alone.

Nervously, you smiled at him and asked if he'd like to help you set up the tent. He of course said yes and rushed forward trying to help. It only took a few minutes to realize that the former prince had no idea how to make a tent and you let him sit down as you built it.

"Sorry.." He murmured and you threw a soft smile at him over you shoulder.

"it's okay. I work best by myself anyway." You lifted up the tent door and motioned for him to go in.

You made your bed and then helped him make his gingerly and then curled up, trying to fall asleep. Like always, your luck was against your will. The fire had already been put out and a cold breeze was setting in. Your body heat quickly succumbed to the cold and small shivers racked you.

Looking behind you, you noticed two things. One was that Zuko was already looking at you with those intense gold eyes and two was that he was shivering as well. Well, you'd already been caught so you just rolled over to your side completely and gave him a shaky smile.

"Hey." You offered.

"Hey." He replied.

"You cold?" You asked.

"A little. You?" He supplied.

"Yeah." You said and then there was silence. You tried to think of something to say but most of it was nonsense. Luckily, he spoke.

"We could maybe light the fire again?"

You shook your head, "Aang gets nervous with it lit when we're asleep, Katara too."

"Oh..." He got that cute, thinking face on and pondered the options for a second. With a shaky voice, he said, "Well, I could try to warm you up a little.. you know, with my fire bending?"

Your teeth chattered as you giggled, "Yeah, I assumed... Sure, if you're okay with it?"

He nodded and you scooted your sleeping bag closer until you were a breath away. He gave you an awkward smile and let his hands become warm. Tentatively, he slipped them under your sleeping bag and rubbed them up your bare arms. Immediately, warmth filled your body and you subconsciously scooted closer with a sigh.

it was hard to tell in the dark but you thought you saw a blush on his cheeks. Slowly he moved his hands to your shoulder blades and then on your neck and sides. It was hard to tell when it happened but at some point between him warming up your biceps and your back, you gotten so close, your breath could be felt on his neck.

It made him nervous. Not only because of the times in the past he'd tried to kill you and how forgiving you were being but because with you this close, he could see all your beauty magnified. Your eyelashes trembled on closed eyes, lips stuttered and nose twitched. You were ethereal in the dim blue light of the moon shinning through holes in the tent. It was almost too much for him.

Then he noticed your breath had evened out. it was slower and smoother. You had fallen asleep practically in his arms. Just as he was about to retreat his hands, yours wrapped around his neck and settled on the nape. You were so close, so soft and gentle even In your sleep. Your fingers brushed the short hair as you let out small snores and held him so his chest was to yours.

The thing that really took his breath away was when your legs wove in-between his and your toes kissed his calves. Zuko might have died and gone to heaven. The prettiest person he'd ever met was curled up in his arms and sighing hot wisps of air over him.

Then you mumbled his name gently and squirmed a little, your nose tucked up in his collar bones and he felt himself swoon. How ever would he be able to face you tomorrow?

[wqnwoos]

“vernon,” you declare, with a level of magnanimity you only reach when it’s past 11pm. “i have a question for you. of the philosophical kind.”

your best friend glances up through the brown strands that fall over his eyes. “okay,” he agrees half-dubious, half-intrigued. “hit me.”

you sit heavily on the couch beside him, throwing your head against the back of it, staring up at the ceiling with deep, ponderous solemnity. “why is it called being in love?”

vernon considers. “i don’t think that’s very philosophical,” he says, after a moment. “the google definition of philosophy is the fundamental nature of knowledge, existence and reality.”

you cast him a look. “how the fuck do you know the google definition of philosophy? just like that?” he shrugs. you sigh, affectionately. “of course you do.”

there’s silence for a moment, broken only by the soft hum of the washing machine in your other room. your roommate is gone for the weekend; it’s just you, and now vernon, because he knows you don’t like being alone at night.

finally, you speak. “you didn’t answer my question.”

vernon doesn’t miss a beat. “it wasn’t philosophical. i felt misled.”

he’s being annoying. “you’re being annoying.” your best friend is so annoying, but you think the most annoying thing about him is that you can’t kiss him to shut him up.

“besides,” you say, “isn’t love our knowledge, existence and reality?”

slightly more thoughtful silence, broken by — “damn,” vernon says, impressed. “you got me there. that was deep.”

“right?” your enthusiasm with yourself makes him smile, a crooked and charming lift of his lips. you’re still talking, admirably excited and animated for two in the morning. “what i mean is like… why can’t you be in anything else? you can’t be in friendship.”

vernon nods, slowly. “like us, you mean.”

“yeah. like us.” you pause, hesitating on the edge of what you’re about to say. “we’re not in friendship, nobody says that.”

he’s smiling, leaning back against the couch. “i mean, we can start saying it, if you want.”

“i’d rather say something else.” you squeeze your eyes shut, because suddenly this is a lot more daunting than you’d thought, and your hands are getting kind of clammy, but you’re committed now, and so — “i’d rather say we’re in love.”

silence for the third time tonight, and this one makes you want to implode. “eventually, i mean!” you’re already rushing your words, tripping them over each other in your hurry to force them out. “i’m not like, in love with you right now. maybe. nearly, i think. and i don’t —”

when vernon interrupts you, it doesn’t feel like an interruption, it’s so soft. “did you… did you set up this whole conversation just to confess to me like that?”

you open your eyes to look at him, sheepish, apprehensive, embarrassed, all at once. “maybe?” and then you’re rambling again: “because there are some flaws in my argument, you know, because technically you can be in acquaintance with someone or — ”

vernon interrupts you for a second time, which is so unlike him, but you’re not going to point that out. not when his hands are cupping your cheeks, his lips are brushing yours and he’s smiling as he kisses you, soft and sweet and honeyed.

and he pulls back just the barest inch to murmur, with your noses bumping and eyelashes brushing and the cheesiest smiles on both your faces — “i’m nearly in love with you too.”

an / u will literally have to pry friend 2 lovers vernon out of my cold dead hands. sorry i can’t stop writing it but also i’m not sorry at all

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

The Nights

Pairing: Legend x Reader

Warning(s): none, but reader is assumed female for having a period.

Notes: Written for the bestest big sis ever, @h4wari, ALSO inspired by the song "Some Say" by Nea

Masterlist

It had been a day.

A terrible, rotten, no-good day that had you wishing for the ground to simply swallow you up once and for all. Not even Wind's cheerful chatter could assuage the annoyance you felt upon waking up before the sun to an unholy pain in your abdomen and tell-tale stickiness on the seat of your pants. It was only by the grace of whatever deities existed that you managed to sneak away from the group with your dignity intact, several thick rags stuffed in your tunic. The nearby river was mercifully abandoned as you took care of business, grumbling about the throbbing in your lower half.

The rest of the afternoon passed similarly, with you distinctly remembering silencing several of Twilight's concerned gazes, his nose slightly wrinkled, with a look patented specifically for situations like these, all the while dodging Wind's queries on why you were walking funny. The sailor's worry was cute, you had to admit, but it was the last thing you wanted to experience when you were currently aching and bleeding.

That didn't mean there weren't saving graces, of course. You had nearly cheered when multiple breaks were taken for seemingly no reason and almost shed tears when it was suggested that the group stay at the inn of the town you were passing through.

"Rough day?"

You practically jumped when Legend plopped down beside you, hands resting in his lap as he gazed curiously at you. You shrugged, bracing yourself when the log rocked slightly at the added weight. The sun shone through the gaps of the trees like a beacon, bathing you in tangerine light; you had been unable to relax in your room, so the log at the back of the inn seemed the next best place.

"It's fine," your stomach throbbed in a way that was undoubtedly not fine. "I'm fine."

"Funny, because I don't believe you," Legend said like he was merely pointing out the weather, and your neck nearly cracked with the force with which you turned to glare at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Unexcused," he said without missing a beat. Your eye twitched. "I'm not a child, (Y/n)–"

"You sure act like it–"

"–And I can tell when someone's in pain," there was a sharp look in his eyes that you weren't sure you liked, especially when another spike of pain tore through your abdomen, followed by a rush of wetness that had you wishing for death. "Especially when it's someone I know."

You raised an eyebrow, trying and failing to hide your discomfort. The way his violet eyes studied your face was unnerving, but you couldn't help but notice the other emotion lurking at the very center of his gaze.

Was it...concern? The very thought seemed preposterous--a mere wish taken from the depths of your subconscious--but the longer you looked, the longer you knew it was true.

Legend was concerned for you, and you had no fucking idea how to proceed. If there was any comfort in the terrible reality of having periods, it was that you always knew what to do when they arrived, but now, you were floundering. Badly.

What were you to do? Console him? Tell him to fuck off and mind his own damn business? Ask what in Hyrule had possessed him?

Legend's mouth moved once more, and you realized he was going to decide for you.

"I have something for you."

You blinked. Twice, then thrice.

"You have what?"

"Something," he shrugged, not bothering to elaborate as he rifled through his pack. "For you."

"...That's ominous," you said, not quite knowing how to proceed. On one hand, it was sweet, but on the other... "Dare I ask what you're plotting?"

Legend paused to fix you with an unamused gaze. "Woooow, can't a guy be generous without criticism?"

"Not when it's you," you shot back, wincing when a terrible shock shot up your spine. It was simultaneously too hot and too cold, and you were practically on your last wits.

"I'm generous all the time," the Vet scoffed. "You just never noticed."

"Because you're an asshole."

"So are you," he rolled his eyes, and you were forced to accept the terrible predicament of him being right, though it didn't stop you from gaping and wondering why his head hadn't exploded from the sheer rage in your gaze. "Here."

All your thoughts skidded to a stop when he tossed a gray square-shaped object into your lap. It was soft and round, with gentle edges, but the most startling observation you made was how warm it was. You lifted the square, marveling in the sheer amount of heat soaking into your palms.

"It's a heat pack," Legend explained quietly, averting his eyes from your face, expression uncharacteristically shy. "It's supposed to help with cramps and... all that."

All that.

You were silent, holding his gift like the treasure it was. It had been so long since anyone had been this thoughtful, and the fact that it was from Legend, of all people, baffled you to no end.

"Why?" you asked... and immediately felt dumb for it; you understood why, it was just...

"Because you're a lot less annoying when you're not in pain," Legend responded and you paused to contemplate what exactly you had seen in him. It wasn't a secret that he was blunt and snarky, just as capable of being a true asshole as he was being a decent person.

"Right," you studied the square for a long moment. "Where did you even get this?"

There was a pause.

Your eyebrows shot skyward when he blushed. The Veteran, king of sarcasm and plentiful digs at one's character, grew redder than his tunic in the face of a simple question. One thing was clear; whatever his answer was, it would be good.

"Legend."

Silence, save for the rustling trees and swaying grasses. You shielded your eyes against a stray ray of sunlight, biting your lip when another bout of pain stabbed your stomach.

"It's not going to work unless you use it," the Vet mumbled, still refusing to look at you. You immediately placed the pack against your abdomen, and, fuck, did it feel good. It was a battle unto itself to keep any... pleasured noises at bay when delicious warmth soaked directly into your poor, tired muscles.

Violet eyes flicked to you, then back down to the grass by his boots. You pretended not to see anything.

"Thank you," the words felt thick on your tongue. "This... thank you."

"It's nothing," the hero responded slowly, though the flush on his cheeks hinted that it was anything but. It was cute that he was so flustered, even if he was also being a jerk about it. "...I should go inside."

You watched him stand, deftly wiping imaginary dust from legs, and considered letting the moment end. It was late, and you were exhausted.

But.

"You made it, didn't you?"

Legend froze, boots kicking up some grass from how hard he stopped. You stayed quiet as he stood with his back to you, nearly motionless. A long minute passed before he turned, cheeks pinker than a cherry blossom tree at the height of spring.

"Yeah."

You pressed the pack closer, relishing as more heat swept into your aching skin. "How?"

"Does it matter?" Legend's response was sharp as his arms crossed over his chest, and it was a response you knew well. He had always been guarded, even when no one was there to hurt him.

"Maybe," you said, smiling ever-so-slightly. It felt good to grin again, like life had finally decided to act in your favor. "I'm just curious."

Legend rolled his eyes, lips twisting into a sneer that was so unadulteratedly him that you had to look away for a second, though the expression didn't reach his eyes, which were bright and focused. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that curiosity killed the remlit?"

"Just now," you managed a chuckle when he blinked, clearly not expecting a response. "But satisfaction brought it back."

The Hero of Legends was silent, until the mask cracked and a low chuckle escaped him. Maybe it was the dusk, casting a golden glow on his skin, or the breeze, ruffling his strawberry-blonde hair in a manner than would never not be him, but you felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to enact a move only accomplished in fairytales and dreams.

You rose to your feet, clutching the pack closer as your muscles screamed in protest, and hobbled over to him, one hand resting on the smooth fabric covering his right shoulder. Legend stiffened, eyes widening when you pressed the softest of kisses to his cheek. He stuttered something, cheeks practically exploding with color, but you were already gone, headed to your room with warm cheeks and a satisfied expression.

Legend knew he was in deep shit.

He had watched you all day, noting the way you clutched your stomach when you thought no one was looking, or the face you made when Wild mused about making stew for the fifth time in a row. Don't get him wrong, he loved stew, but the expression on your face was enough to have him butting in to suggest they expand their culinary horizons to fried rice. Twilight, the bastard, had given him a shockingly astute gaze, followed by a soft head tilt in your general direction, but Legend had contained himself impressively, only responding with a certain finger pointedly raised in the air.

When night had fallen, he followed you out of the inn for some goddess-forsaken reason, clutching an item he had spent an embarrassing amount of time making. Heat packs weren't difficult to enchant, but the process was nonetheless finicky--with a single wrong move capable of rendering the thing useless--and he wasn't interested in handing you anything but the best. He had a reputation to uphold, for Hylia's sake!

Until you kissed him.

It wasn't even romantic, the Vet reasoned, just a gesture of appreciation from you to him. Nothing more, nothing less. That is, if he had been able to excuse the feeling of your lips against the skin of his cheek as anything but perfect, so soft and warm that it threw him for a loop for a solid minute. It had been a miracle that he hadn't collapsed on the spot, still reeling from the situation.

And now, even as he walked down the moonlit hallway to his room, the thoughts of you were still there. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Kiss you? Confess the crush he had been nursing for weeks? Ignore everything and pretend he was above this like he always did?

No, Legend reasoned, hand falling on the doorknob. He was many things, but a coward wasn't one of them. He pushed the door open, only to freeze when he caught sight of what was inside.

It was you, because who else would it be, with a look of barely-disguised realization on your face. An identical room key dangled from your grasp, and Legend could have cursed whoever decided to give that damn rancher control of room assignments for the night.

"...I can explain," you began, though it was obvious you couldn't. The key jingled when you brought it up to the light. "Twilight–"

"Yeah," Legend cut you off with a short wave, closing the door behind him. The silence was deafening, and just staring at each other was getting really awkward. "He's an ass."

"I wouldn't say an 'ass'," you chided, though it was half-hearted at best. Legend noticed you were bereft of your usual tunic, dressed in only a shirt with no sleeves and some ratty trousers. He couldn't recall seeing you like this before, but it wasn't an unwelcome change. The subtle bulge around your abdomen indicated that you had made good use of the pack, and that was pleasing in its own right. "...But he doesn't skimp on causing trouble."

"...So he's an ass."

You snorted, embarrassment fading as you rested your hands on your hips. "Har har, very funny."

"I wasn't joking."

"You were."

"Nope."

"Yes."

"N–"

"You're fucking lucky I don't have the mental fortitude for this right now."

Legend fell silent, finally noticing the bags under your eyes, not to mention the way you seemed to hunch in on yourself, one hand pressed to your belly, and it was enough to make him actually consider his next words carefully.

"...Is it working?"

He knew it was a dumb question, but someone had to ask it.

Your expression softened and you nodded, brushing some hair behind your ear, gaze flicking to the bed. Legend tried not to blush any more than he already was. "...It's getting late."

"...Yeah."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. It was a sound he had heard many times, typically when someone had decided to be a pain in the ass, but he had always tried to keep it from being directed specifically at him. "Don't look so scared, I'm not kicking you out."

Legend blinked. "You... aren't?"

You rolled your eyes. "Of course not," your tone was light, and it made him feel a bit better about the situation. "We can share."

Share. Share.

He was familiar with the word, of course, and it would have been no big deal with literally anyone else, but the thought of sharing a bed with you was... well, it seemed too good to be true.

"Unless you're uncomfortable," you amended quickly, the tiniest hint of red blooming over your cheeks. "I'm sure Wind and Four–"

"No!" Legend could have cursed himself for sounding so desperate, but the mere thought of spending the night alone left a bitter taste in his mouth. "I mean–... we can share."

You nodded, the ghost of a smile on your lips, and made your way to the bed. The sheets rustled as you slipped beneath them, shuffling over to make room for him. Legend used those few precious seconds to remove his boots and red tunic, setting them carefully atop the provided dresser next to your own clothes. His belt was placed next to the pile, the edge hanging down to brush the hilt of his sword.

By the time he was ready for bed, you had already dozed off, curled on your side with both arms around your stomach. Legend allowed himself to smile, sliding into the empty spot beside your form. The bed was firm enough to be comfortable, not to mention a lot less lumpy than expected, but he would have slept on the floor itself if you were there.

A quiet whimper broke through the silence.

Legend shot up like a spring, scanning the room for threats before focusing his gaze on you. The bed creaked as you rolled onto your back with a noise of discomfort, brows furrowed and eyes screwed shut. Your shoulders trembled noticeably and his heart felt like it was being stretched in a million directions.

You were cold, in pain, or possibly both.

Legend knew he had to fix it.

With ninja-like stealth, he crept from the bed, snagging his tunic off the dresser. You made another noise when he tucked the item around your form like a second blanket, pulling the comforter all the way up to your chin, deftly ignoring the somersaulting feeling in his stomach at the sight of his tunic over you. It was neither the time nor place to be pleased at... whatever this was, so Legend smoothed the bedsheets and settled atop them. It was a warm night, so he wasn't worried about getting chilled as he pulled you close, arms encircling your form.

A sigh left your mouth and your head turned to the side, settling in the junction between his neck and shoulder like you belonged there. You were asleep, the Vet knew, and would likely not remember any of this come morning, but he allowed himself to lay his head just above yours, letting your scent wash over him as he fell into the best sleep of his life.

I just realized that Twi is literally a wingman in every one of my stories, he'll get his turn eventually <33

[honestsycrets]

Hey! if your requests are open can you do a drabble where the spider society meets Miguel's and readers baby for the first time? like they show up with her one day where the sitter couldn't make it or something and it's so wild to see Miguel be so soft with her

❛ summary | Miguel doesn't feel secure letting anyone watch his daughter-- not even Peter. or, gwen tries to hold miguel's daughter for the first time.

❛ sy's notes | slightly different than the request above but still in the same vein.

❛ tags | reader and child from starved, family piece, some angst, some sweetness, reference to loss of child, mention of pregnancy.

He just had to do it. 

Despite the fact that Miguel knew everything about his body being amped up, he missed how it felt. In his rush to have sex, he didn’t consider the possibility that you could have been ovulating. That the temporary amenorrhea wouldn’t last. It was his miscalculation. A miscalculation resulted in Mireya’s presence in his lab, chewing on his knuckle as some poor substitute for a teething toy. 

“Ay chingado, where is that pinche--” he huffed under his breath, rummaging around his cluttered desk for the damn toy. Mireya pinched down on his finger again with those bright brown eyes, twinkling with mischievous curiosity for why her papi was cussing again. His claw popped forth, drawing a fantastic giggle careening from her lips. Miguel retracted them again, shaking his hand out at his side. “Are those fangs or teeth in there, mija, hm?” 

“That’s cute.” 

In his preoccupation with his daughter, he hadn’t necessarily heard the pitter-patter of feet behind him. Despite what everyone might think, Miguel doesn’t like visitors in his lab. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, realizing that it was Gwen in the lab. Great, he expelled a great puff of air. Wherever Gwen was, Jess or Peter never seemed to be too far behind. 

“What is?” 

“Mireya,” she bounced forward, hands behind her back, inspecting Mireya with a twinge of a smile. It grew on her lips, just a little. She flicked her index finger, making a point that he really didn’t feel like hearing. “And you too. I mean, even if you cuss a little at her. You’re so soft with her.”

“Enjoy the sight while it lasts.” Miguel bit out, drawing into a little sigh as he cradles his daughter close. “But I’m not cussing at her, I’m looking for her teething chew-- which is not my finger, Mireya.”

She bites down on his palm. Miguel’s face screws up in annoyance, rather than pain, settling a small kiss on the top of her head. Her soft baby curls tickle his lips. He turns back to his panels, inspecting the anomaly he had been tracking all afternoon. She bites him again.

“Wherever that thing went, carajo! Lyla, ¿dónde está?!” He forgot that his daughter had a low tolerance for his outbursts. Unlike Gwen, Peter, or even you, Miguel was usually well aware of his rising volume. Gwen held up her palms.

“No, mi vida, no, I’m sorry,” Mireya’s lower lip quivered, revving up in another sharp cry that Miguel hardly had the patience for. Her cry burst free, causing Miguel to tear away from Gwen, sliding Mireya onto his broad shoulder. He pats her back gently. “Is there a reason you’re here?” 

“Your wife sent me to help you. I’d… I’d really like to hold her. I mean. If you’re willing.” 

"¿Qué?" Miguel hissed, hiding the flash of displeasure that ripped across his face. Of course, you sent a teenage kid to come take a daughter from him! Why wouldn’t you? No way in hell— he took a step away, the sharpest way he could say no. Almost a year old and still Gwen had not held her. 

“She shouldn’t have. I don’t need help.”  

“She said you’d say that,” Gwen tippy-toed up to Miguel’s shoulder, peeping at Mireya’s big brown eyes. She screwed them shut, burning through another red-hot wail of pain. If Gwen didn't leave him alone--

“What exactly did she say?”

“Mireya’s teething and Miguel has a bad temper.” 

A bad temper, she said. Miguel scrunched up his nose. 

“Tch. Of course, I never would have guessed.” 

He heard another set of feet. Two, actually. He expected to see Peter’s too-happy smile beaming at him like an aggravating ray of morning light. He didn’t, however, expect your eyes to stare right back at him. Your voice cut right through Mireya’s inconsolable cries. 

“Miggy, are you giving Gwen a hard time?” 

He chewed on his words, using his foot to roll his chair out from his desk. You hopped onto the platform with Peter’s aid, a task on its own with your swollen belly behind a deep blue gown. Mireya’s sharp cries fizzled out into little chirps, somehow pleased with your presence. Miguel, however, was not. 

“There’s my girl!” Peter slapped his hands together, rushing forward when you were secure on the platform. Peter couldn’t help himself, even amid a fight. She bounced on Miguel’s shoulder, palms extended, squeezing and releasing. Why did she have to love Peter? “Hi, Mireya!” 

“No. You should be resting,” Miguel pointed toward his chair. You didn’t fight him on it, sliding into it with your hand under your belly to support the child that brewed in your stomach. He couldn’t help but feel a string of guilt for the exhaustion that was so easily apparent on your face. It’s why he took her-- in the hope that you would sleep. 

“I would if I knew you would take the help.” 

Peter swerved around Gwen, peering over Miguel’s shoulder at her squishy little body in double the glee the little girl looked at him with.

“I don’t need help.” 

“Lyla says you do,” you tilted back in the chair, folding your arms just under your swollen chest. Miguel threw another curse under his breath. The AI who mysteriously was not listening to any of his commands. “And if Lyla says you do, then you do.” 

He could have fought you but as fate would have it, you were close to pushing out another child of his. He glared at the glittering stone of your ring on your finger and relented, his head bobbing into a complacent nod. As per usual, you won.

“Fine, por hoy,” he said with a heavy breath, turning over to face Gwen. She cracked a nervous smile as he leaned in, settling Mireya in her arms. Gwen’s big eyes snapped down to the little girl, insecurity trickling from her person. Miguel picked up on it like blood pouring into a cup of water. “If you hurt her, I’ll—“

“Miguel, no threats.”

He cursed. 

“Now that that’s settled,” Peter ran his hands together, swiping up the chew toy that Miguel had been looking for. He obnoxiously slid Mireya out of Gwen’s arms,  the only person that Miguel would allow his daughter to be held by without standing threats. “Come to Uncle Peter! We can go get ice cream with Hobie and Pavitr, just you and me and Gwen!"

Hobie and Pavitr? He never--

“Tio Peter,” Gwen corrected, stroking her upper arm nervously. 

“Tio Peter."

Miguel couldn’t help but watch the pair slip away-- talking about things like ice cream for toothaches, park dates, and fun as they slipped into a portal. You caught Miguel’s hand, stopping him from jerking to snatch her back up. 

“She’s safe with them,” It itched-- it itched all over. The terrible feeling that no, his Mireya was not safe with Peter, or Gwen, or Jess, or anyone else that wasn’t him. If even him. You stood up. “Miguel, Miguel no--” 

He snapped to the monitor, drawing forth Gwen and Peter, his hand at his lip. Your stomach pressed into his back. His third-- no second-- child. His hand fell to your arms that intertwined around his muscular midsection. “She’s almost one. We talked about this. You said Peter was the only one you’d trust to watch her.” 

“Almost one,” he laughed it off, his hand falling away from his lips. “She could be forty and I would still worry.”

“You don’t trust Peter?” 

“I don’t even trust myself.”  He threw you back a glance, an undercurrent of sadness flowed through the words.

“I do, mi amorcito,” You held him a little tighter, finding the words came as easily as the movements of the child in your belly against his back. Miguel bit back a small smile at the feeling, following Peter and Gwen choosing ice cream for his little girl. The door jingled with a bell-- Hobie and Pavitr strode in, because of course they did, it couldn't just be a quiet outing. Who was next? Miles? “And I trust Peter too.”

“I know you do.”

Vanilla? Cotton candy? Not the cotton candy. If they only knew. It’s strawberry. Mireya’s favorite is strawberry. Gabriella’s was vanilla. His shoulders relaxed, watching Peter present a small sample of strawberry to his little princesa. 

“Bueno,” he slid his hand on top of yours. “I could… go for an empanada. ¿Quieres ir conmigo?”

“Sí,” you beamed. “Let's go. Just you and me.”

It’s a strange feeling— being without his little girl. At least for today, he’s certain she’ll be okay. 

[softbeej]

Rule Number One (You Gotta Have Fun) (Part Two)

Part two, Alastor takes you to his room :3

U suck the soul out of him, of course. Request r open!!! for all Hazbin characters yay

You stood awkwardly in Alastors room as he ushered you in. You weren’t sure what to really expect from his room, but this wasn’t it. It felt homely, and lived in. Knick knacks and trinkets scattered around, a half drank mug of tea from God knows how long ago. You turned to Alastor as he was slowly taking off his coat and hanging it up like he had all the time in the world. He had you where he wanted you now, what was the point in rushing?

He looked at you, slight confusion on his face, “Up on the bed whenever you’re ready, Darling. And feel free to take off those panties, I’m sure they’re dreadfully sodden...” You hadn’t noticed through his fussing but he’d helped you step out of them and tossing them aside. You hopped up on his bed, it smelt just like him. Musky and woody. You could get used to sleeping here, you thought.

He got on the bed with you, still fully dressed aside from his shoes and coat. He was propped up against the pillows, you in-between his legs. You’d noticed his hooves and wondered if he had a tail too... He was almost erect again, you could see his cock tenting in his pants, a wet patch from where he’d cum untouched earlier.

Your mouth watered at the sight.

“Can.. I?” You gestured to his crotch.

“It’s ‘may’, dear, as in, ‘may I’. But yes. I’m all yours.”

Hands shaking with eagerness, you struggled with the buttons before popping them open, instantly relieving some of the tension in his pants. Big wet eyes, you nuzzled up against his hardening cock over his underwear.

“Slowly, now. You want to make sure I’m nice and hard for you, hm?”

“Aren’t you always?” You teased, giving the head of his cock a kitten lick over the fabric.

He chuckled at that, shimmying his pants and underwear off completely, and started working on unbuttoning his shirt.

You think your pupils must of doubled in size when you took in the sight of that cock of his. Gentle hands, you grasped him from the base using light touches as he was clearly prone to cumming rather quickly.

“Good girl...” He murmured, voice a mix of approval and lust. You didn’t need telling what to do next, because Alastor had already worked his fingers into your mouth. You couldn’t look away as he ran the pads of his fingers over your teeth, saliva dripping down your chin.

“Open wide, daring...” He mused.

You did, of course. And Alastor took advantage of your warm wet mouth immediately, hips thrusted forward to push his cock inside. He let out a staticky crackle, “That’s it... There’s a good girl, now...”

You hummed around his cock.

"Ffffuck," he groaned, his hands finding your hair to grip tightly. He began to thrust harder and faster, taking what he wanted without hesitation. His hips slammed against your face as he lost control further, grunting and moaning in pleasure. Your nose was pressed up against his groin now, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation.

He was close and he knew it. He felt that familiar tightening in his gut. He pulled you back by your hair, just enough to look down at you, and muttered out “...May I?”

You nodded, almost begging. That was all it took for him to push himself back down your throat. When he came, he didn’t moan or grunt, instead it sounded like fifteen different radio stations had been turned on at once, a horrendous cacophony of noise and static. It only lasted a second as he regained control, the volume lessened as he came, though, spurting thick hot cum into your mouth.

“Swallow it all...”

And you did, not like you had much choice. You pulled back, opening your mouth wide to show that you had indeed been a very good girl and swallowed every drop. He patted your cheek.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He purred, hand not leaving your cheek. “I do hope you’re planning on staying the night?”

Maybe you were going to find out about this potential tail of his sooner rather than later.

[autumnywinter]

can you pretty pls do more yandere elliot?

I hope this is good! I don't know if it's obvious or not, but he's my favorite character to write for.

Yandere!Elliott x Reader

Tags: Stalking, manipulation, mentioned blackmail, gender neutral reader

From the day you and Elliott met, you had become pretty close. Moving made it pretty hard to befriend anyone, especially due to your schedule, but Elliott seemed always available for you, always nearby and ready for a conversation. You and him had practically became best friends within the first few months of knowing each other. Elliott was a sweet guy, one that you cherished as a good friend.

Over the time you had moved, you had been trying to get back into dating. Elliott was supportive, and was always there to cry on when you were inevitably ghosted or dumped after one date.

This one really hurt, however. You were really into this person you had a date with, just for them to never speak again after the second date.

You turned to the one person you felt like would always be there for you. Elliott. You knocked on the door of his cabin, trying not to cry. It was pouring rain outside, soaking you to the bone. Your clothes clung to your skin, hair soaked and dripped down to your neck uncomfortably.

Elliott opened the door, worry immediately painting his face when he saw you shivering violently in front of him. "Y/n! What happened? Come inside, it's freezing out there!" He ushered you inside quickly, shutting the door behind you both. Elliott helped take off your jacket, hanging it up near the fireplace to dry it quicker.

"I'm sorry for showing up unannounced," you mumbled.

"Don't apologize, it's alright. Here, let me get you some dry clothes," Elliott said. He rushed into the restroom, coming back out with a fluffy purple towel and a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants.

It made you feel a little better imagining him own and wear such casual clothing. He had a huge vocabulary, but "casual" wasn't exactly something you assumed was in his dictionary. Even now, he was dressed in a beige turtleneck and black slacks.

Elliott dried your hair off with the towel gently, making sure to get all of the water out as best as he could. He then handed the clothing to you, turning around politely so you could change without him looking.

You quickly stripped from your wet clothing, putting on Elliott's warm, dry clothing instead. They smelled like ink and pine. Kind of like the trees that grew around your home.

"I'm done. Thanks," you told him.

He turned back around to face you. His cheeks were dusted pink, looking you up and down. Elliott cleared his throat and broke away his stare. "Of course. Do you want something to drink? I recently bought some hot chocolate, but I have tea too."

"Hot chocolate sounds nice," you responded quietly. Elliott smiled and went into the kitchen, returning shortly with two mugs of hot cocoa. He handed you one, sitting down on the couch next to you. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close, to the point where you were basically laying on top of him.

It was normal for cuddling to ensue between the both of you. Elliott was a very touchy person, always holding your hand or hugging you tightly. You never minded, though. Elliott was always soft and warm. It was comforting.

Elliott's hand drifted to your still-damp hair, massaging your scalp. You let out a content sigh, melting into Elliott's hold. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

Your contentment dissolved into sadness again. "I was ghosted. Again. And I really thought they were into me."

He cooed and put his own mug down on the coffee table in front of you both before taking yours. You followed suit when he opened his arms invitingly.

You crawled into his lap, arms around his neck and head buried into the crook of it. Elliott buried his nose deep into your hair and inhaled. You were too busy crying to notice.

Elliott's arms tightened around you, rubbing soothing circles into your back. "Shh... it's okay. You deserve the world, and if they don't realize that, they were never worth it to begin with."

"I think I'm the problem. It has to be something I'm doing if--what, three people now?--have already ghosted me after one or two dates." You leaned into his warm hands that thumbed away your tears. "Maybe I'm just unlovable."

Elliott stiffened underneath you and his expression hardened. "No. Y/n, look at me," he said. He never sounded so firm before.

You lifted your head up to look at him. Elliott's eyes softened as soon as he looked at your tear-stained face.

"You are not unlovable. If anything, it's their loss. You're wonderful and kind and absolutely gorgeous. If they can't see that, then they're idiots. Okay?" Elliott leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss onto your forehead. "And perhaps, true love isn't as far away as you think it is."

You were too tired to look into his usual flowery words. Instead, you nodded and curled up against him again. Elliott returned to holding you, letting you cry into his shoulder.

He hummed to you. His hand stayed in your hair, another one on your back keeping you pressed against him.

When you woke up, you were tucked comfortably into Elliott's bed. The blankets were heavy on top of you, warm and cozy. Elliott was still holding you, but you could hear his soft snores. You smiled a little to yourself. He must've carried you here. Elliott was a sweetheart, even when you cried into him for hours until you fell asleep from exhaustion.

You laid there for a while longer, trying to fall back asleep. You couldn't, though, so you carefully slipped out of Elliott's grip to find the bathroom.

Despite having been in his cabin many times, you never actually went anywhere but the kitchen and living room. Elliott's cabin was small, but the darkness made it seem a lot larger than it actually was. You didn't want to turn on the lights to wake him, so you fumbled for your phone but couldn't find it.

Trying not to trip over anything, you shuffled around until you were sure you found the doorknob to the restroom. You closed the door behind you and flicked on the light, just to see a closet.

Just as you were going to walk out, you noticed something odd. A photo of you laid on top of a box. You curiously picked it up.

It wasn't a photo of you posing for the camera, or a selfie, or anything of that sort. It was a photo of you from far away, walking through town. The photo was clearly taken without your knowledge.

There were more photos under it. All of you. You were in every single one. Some of you shopping, some of you working, some of you talking to your friends. One of them even had you changing through the window. Your stomach churned when you saw one of you in bed, sleeping peacefully. You could see his shadow looming over you in that one.

It got more disturbing. You saw articles of your clothing that you had lost and never found. A pillowcase that was stained with hopefully your past drool, a used hairbrush, and various other things were inside the box too.

The door suddenly opened and you jumped, dropping everything in your hands. You backed up against the wall, staring at Elliott with wide eyes.

He stared back at you, eyes flickering from you to the box and pictures on the floor. His mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. After a few seconds, he finally spoke. "Y/n, it's not what it looks like."

"Then what is it, Elliott?" you asked shakily. "What the hell is this?"

Elliott ran his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. He crouched down and started picking up the pictures you dropped. "Please, listen to me. I would never hurt you. I just... I couldn't help myself." He collected all the photos with shaky hands and put them back in the box.

You didn't know why you weren't running. You should be sprinting out the door by now, but something kept you frozen in place. Elliott slowly stood up and took a step towards you. You flinched.

"I love you," he confessed. "So much. I've never felt this way about anyone in my life. I was so depressed before I met you. Everything was dark and meaningless. But then I met you." He stood close enough to cup your face in his hands, thumbs caressing your cheekbones. "You are everything to me. My light, my heart, my reason to live. I can't imagine living without you. I need you like I need air. Every time you're away from me feels like torture."

He leaned in close, forehead pressed against yours. You were still processing everything.

Elliott's breath tickled your lips. "I would do anything for you. Kill for you. Die for you. Anything you want, I'll give it to you. I could treat you so much better than those... people ever could." He spat out the word 'people', resisting to use another word to describe them.

Realization dawned on you. "Did you kill them?!"

"Of course not! I just," he dragged out a long sigh, letting you back away from him, "scared them away. If threatening them didn't work, I got blackmail on them. That was the only way your last date left you alone."

Your knees were weak. "You're sick."

Elliott frowned deeply. "I'm in love." You opened your mouth, but he cut you off. "Who do you go to when you're sad? Me. Who do you talk to about your problems? Me. Who do you call when you need comfort? Me. I'm the one who's always there for you, Y/n. Not them. Maybe you don't realize it, but you need me just as much as I need you."

"We're done talking, Elliott," you said. You tried to push past him to leave, but he grabbed your wrists tightly. You winced. "Let me go."

"I'll die without you. Please, stay," Elliott begged. "I'm sorry if I frightened you. I just got overwhelmed. I promise I'll be better. Just please, don't leave me. I can't handle losing you. I'd never ever hurt you."

Your shoulders sagged, so Elliott let his grip only slightly loosen. "You're scaring me."

Elliott cooed. "Oh, sweetheart. You have nothing to be scared of. I could never hurt you. I just love you so much." He released your wrists completely, only to wrap you up in a tight hug. "I just want what's best for you. And that's me. I can take care of you. You wouldn't have to lift a finger. I'll cook for you, clean for you, I'll do anything for you." Elliott was almost crying into your shoulder. His entire body was shaking.

Your fear and disgust turned into pity. Elliott was clearly sick. He needed help. You wrapped your arms around him hesitantly. Elliott melted into your hold like butter. He held you tighter, if that was possible.

"Elliott, you need help. This isn't normal." You rubbed his back in an awkward attempt to comfort him.

"I don't need help, I just need you." Elliott buried his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent.

You pursed your lips. Elliott was a good friend. He was always there for you. That was the only thing that prevented you from storming out the door or slapping him across the face. Well, that and the fact you were still terrified of him. "Why don't we lay down? It's late."

Elliott pulled away to look at you. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were red from crying. He nodded. "Yes, you must be tired. Let's go lay down." Elliott took your hand and lead you into his bedroom again. You both laid down and Elliott immediately wrapped his arms and legs around you. Your face was almost smothered into his chest, and his scent didn't carry the same comforting smell as it normally did.

"Elliott?"

"Hm?"

"Will you let me leave in the morning?"

Elliott was silent for a moment. You thought he might've fallen asleep until he replied, "We'll talk about it in the morning."

That was code for "probably not".

[aemondsbabe]

Two Souls, Entwined

summary: dreams & dirty talk || helaena has been plagued with visions; things between her and her lady in waiting finally reach a boiling point

pairing: helaena targaryen x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, wlw, mutual pining, angst but happy ending, dry humping, breast/nipple play, dirty talk but make it poetic and loving, slight aegon slander i broke my own heart, i love helaena sm, there needs to be more content for her i love her, let me know if i missed anything!!

word count: 4.1k

a/n: happy day ten of 12 days of smuff!! i'm actually very excited/proud of this one, it got a lot more personal than i was expecting! really feeding that scared bi girl i was in middle school idk. i hope y'all enjoy it!!!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @merrypembertons

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

Helaena sighs when she opens her eyes and blinks, disoriented by the early morning light, her head still clouded with sleep. 

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe…” She whispers to the emptiness of her chambers, the cryptic phrase a familiar one now as it had been making its home in her head for the past few weeks. 

Sitting up with a groan, she pauses at the edge of her bed, staring blankly ahead as the cloudy figures from her dream seem to swirl around her still. She was growing frustrated with the shadowy shapes, as much as she hated to admit it – she did not often enjoy her dreams, they often brought news of unpleasant tidings, secrets that she alone seemed expected to bear, but for the past few weeks her dreams had been… pleasant. Joyous, in fact. Yet they seemed much further away than the others, only revealing small slivers of information to her night after night. 

She smiles softly as she gives one last glance out the window before padding over to the vanity in her chambers, determined to brush out her hair before the maids have the chance, they were always too rushed and hurried. Her mind drifts back to her dream as she runs a comb through her fair hair; lately, this mysterious dream seemed to be the only thing she could focus on for very long. 

The figure in it seemed so familiar, moving around her as if it was an old friend, someone safe. She sighed again as she thought, blushing despite herself as she recalled her latest vision, remembering how the shadow had moved about her, as if in a courting dance, before it leaned in closely, though if it were for a kiss or to whisper a secret she didn’t know. 

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe.” She repeats, as if the repeating will somehow reveal more. 

It puzzles her greatly, the feelings of safety mixed with distinct romantic desire, a deep wanting from somewhere within her. There aren’t many people she even feels safe around, and even less so those she’d ever felt romantic longing for, and a much shorter list followed of people who had ever felt romantic longing for her. She feels secure around her mother, of course, and grandsire and her precious younger brothers, but she cannot help but wrinkle her nose with disgust at the thought of romantic intent with any of them.

She blinks, setting her hairbrush down and biting her lip as she thinks. I feel safe with Aegon, she ponders, brows knitting together, He’s never given me a reason to not feel safe but… She sighs, not bothering to finish the thought. She was well aware her marriage was one of politics, not of love. She remembers there had been whispers of many suitors when she’d finally come of age; everyone from Aegon and Aemond to her half-sister’s bastard sons had been considered, and though Helaena appreciated some more than others… she didn’t desire any of them. 

Before she can help herself, her blue eyes flit over her own curves as she gazes at herself in the mirror, wishing, as she had so many times before, that she could reach out and feel her own reflection – feel a mirrored twin with similar soft skin and supple flesh. She wishes that soft, delicate fingers could touch her as well; she had grown tired of rough, battle worn touches long ago. 

Someone I feel safe with and feel romantic longing for, she thinks again, blinking rapidly as a familiar face immediately springs to mind yet again, just as it had every time she’d pondered this mystery for the last few weeks, only growing more frustrated. It can’t be, she’d decided that long ago, long before this vision began. 

But...

The Gods only ever seemed to show her visions that were assured, that would come to fruition, one way or another. Maybe… maybe that meant that y–

No, she thought, locking eyes with her reflection, Don’t be ridiculous. 

She smiles as she hears her chamber doors opening, at the same time they do every morning, and turns around on the ornate, cushioned chair at her vanity, her eyes locking with your familiar ones as you waltz it. 

“Good morning, Princess,” her heart beats a mite faster at the sound of your voice, at the bright smile that graces your lips as you stride to her, “I trust you slept well?”

“Good morning, sweet friend,” she greets you brightly, standing and pulling you into a hug as she did every day, “I did, quite peacefully, actually. And you?” She asked, trying to ignore the small voice that longed to hold you more closely, as she did everyday. 

“I did as well,” your hand lingers in hers for a moment as she steps away, sitting back at her vanity as the maids arrive, instantly fluttering around the two of you like a kaleidoscope of butterflies, “After we break fast, would you like to come to the gardens with me?”

Helaena merely nods, though inside she buzzes, her heart fluttering like a bird’s wings. 

I would follow you into the Seven Hells, she longs to say. 

You wake with a small start, your hand instantly flying to your lips. You could swear they still tingle for a second from when she’d kissed you, just before you’d woken up. Blushing, you glance around your chambers, as if there would be anyone else there, and finding them empty leaves you both relieved and disappointed all at once. 

Sighing, you slide off of your plush bed and walk over to your small vanity and use the small wash basin to splash water on your face. A small thrill shoots up your spine as you glance over your shoulder in the mirror, knowing from the position of the light filtering through your windows that it’s nearly time to go find your friend. 

Friend.

It’s a funny word, you think, not one you would have imagined assigning to the princess all the many years ago when you’d arrived at King’s Landing, young and eager to be a lady in waiting for Helaena. You can’t help the smile that blooms on your lips each time you think of her, your quiet, captivating princess. You meet your own gaze in the mirror and frown, looking at yourself in the way a disappointed parent would look at a child. 

Not yours, you chide, like repeating it over and over would make it hurt any less, Not yours, not yours, not yours. 

Sighing yet again, you rise from your spot at the vanity and quickly grab your robes, eager to escape your own thoughts. 

“This one is the iphiclides podalirius,” Helaena says, her voice soft as she marvels at the delicate butterfly perched on the back of her hand, “More commonly called the scarce swallowtail, I believe. It’s truly remarkable, normally they don’t travel this far north, though I’m told they’re a common sight in the gardens of Sunspear.”

“Then we are quite lucky to see it,” you smile, setting your embroidery hoop on the bench beside you as you study the yellow and black striped insect, though your eyes seem to drift to the princess on their own; you can’t help but smile as you see the way her beautiful sapphire eyes light up as she examines the small creature, “It’s very beautiful.”

Like you, you think, swallowing down the words. 

“Would you like to hold her?” Helaena asks, looking at you hopefully. 

As always, you nod, aware that you were the only one who seemed to entertain her fascination with insects and plants. Selfishly, you liked that. 

Slowly and carefully, Helaena guides the butterfly onto the back of your hand; the two of you sitting close together, close enough for your shoulders to press together. A giggle leaves you at the feel of the insect's feet on your skin, so small and light, like tiny, faint kisses.  

“Perhaps she was drawn to the hydrangeas,” the princess muses, “Those are new this year, though I suppose any of the other very colorful plants would spark her fancy as well, like the lilac or poppies or…”

It takes you a second to notice that she’s gone quiet next to you and you finally tear your gaze away from the butterfly, frowning slightly when you see the look on her face, her blue eyes hazy and unfocused as they flit back and forth like she’s watching figures you cannot see. 

“Princess?” You ask softly, reaching out to take her hand, only halfway aware of the butterfly fluttering away, “Helaena?” You ask again, a bit louder, gripping her hand tighter. 

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe…” She whispers, so faintly that the words scarcely leave her lips. Your frown only deepens, your eyebrows knitting together as you shake your head, trying to make sense of her words. 

“What?” You ask softly, used to hearing her mutter odd phrases but seeing her in a trance was something altogether different, “Helaena? Should I go fetch the maester?” You don’t know why you ask her, not expecting a response. 

The figure danced in front of her again, clouded in darkness, though instead of feeling cold and empty like the dark so often did to her, these shadows hugged Helaena like a blanket. 

She blinked, and suddenly everything changed, becoming clear as if she’d blinked away tears. The clarity was startling for a second as the edges of the figure sharpened before her, still leaning toward her as if it meant to whisper an amorous secret.

Finally, her eyes focused and in that moment, she felt as if she could be knocked over by the air current made from the flittery wings of a butterfly. 

You. 

It was you, just as she’d always suspected, standing before her as if you’d always been there. 

Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe. The phrase repeats in her mind like a mantra as she stares at you, marveling at the way you stare at her. 

Like she’s precious, something to be fawned over. Something to be… loved? 

Her heart hammers wildly in her chest as she reaches out, her fingers finally skimming over your cheek. 

She could cry, perhaps she is crying, she doesn’t know. The only thing she’s sure of is that this feels so right, like a puzzle piece within her has finally shifted and slotted into place. 

Just as it crosses her mind to lean in and kiss you, the vision falls away, words echoing in her mind as the gardens come back into focus.

Not a friend. 

Not a friend.

Not a friend.

Yet...

Not a foe. 

“Helaena, please!” You beg, urgency coating your voice as you lean in closer, closer than you’d ever dared before, praying to see some spark of recognition in the princess’s eyes. 

Suddenly, she seems to come back to herself, gasping as you jump back away from her, startled. 

“Oh!” She breathes, blinking a couple times before her blue eyes finally fix themselves on you, “I’m so sorry, I don’t… I don’t know what came over me.”

You shake your head quickly, moving back toward her and taking her hands in yours once more, your heart twisting as you notice them trembling slightly. “There’s no need to apologize, I’m just happy you’re alright.” 

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, Helaena staring at you in a way that makes your cheeks heat up, as if she’s seeing you for the first time, before she seems to catch herself and look away, much to your disappointment. 

“Was that one of your dreams?” You ask softly, looking down to where her hand rests within yours. 

“Yes.” She says simply, her eyes locked on the way your fingers overlap hers as she desperately tries to ignore the voice in her head telling her to enterwine them. 

“What did you see?” You ask, catching her gaze again. There’s a fire in her eyes now that makes you shiver. 

She’s quiet for a moment, neither of you so much as breathing as you stare at each other – the princess looking at you so intently you wonder if she’s trying to hear your thoughts. You pray she can’t. 

“Nothing of importance,” she says finally, pulling her hands away and standing from the bench suddenly, “They’re just shapes, really. Fuzzy things.”

“Alright,” you smile as you stand with her, picking up your embroidery hoop from where it had been abandoned at your side, “If you ever wish to discuss them, I would be more than happy to listen.” You tell her, desperately wanting to hold on to whatever moment you had just shared with her. 

She merely nods with a small, soft smile and holds her arm out for you to take, “Let’s go, we don’t want to be late for supper.” 

The fire warming your skin from the hearth in Helaena’s chambers normally felt cozy and inviting, but tonight the heat of it was stifling as the two of you sit in silence. Each of you is presumably working on an embroidery piece, although the atmosphere feels more like that of a stalemate with each passing moment. 

You can feel her looking at you, sneaking glances every minute or so. You imagine she can probably feel the same, perhaps that’s why she keeps looking your way, because you can’t seem to keep your eyes off her either. 

Finally, the tension in the room seems to boil over and you can’t take it anymore; your fingers dig into the wood of your embroidery hoop as you gather the courage to speak. 

“Have I… Are you cross with me?” 

“Pardon?” The princess asks, jumping a bit before laying her hoop at her side, her eyes wide as she looks at you unabashedly now. 

“You, well, you keep looking at me. I just, I’m hoping I haven’t offended you in some way.” You chance a glance at Helaena and quickly do a double take, heart clenching in your chest when you see that she looks as if she’s about to cry. 

“You haven’t,” she breathes, shaking her head emphatically, locks of pale hair cascading down her shoulders as she does, “I simply… I was considering the dreams I’ve been having, the one I had earlier today.” 

“But what does that have to do with me?” 

“You’ve been in them!” She says suddenly, loudly, like she has to force out the words. 

“What?” You blink. 

She sighs heavily and swallows, wringing her hands on her lap. “You were in them. You have been for weeks.” 

You wonder if the princess can hear your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you blink, silently praying to whichever of the Gods may be listening that Helaena’s dreams and your dreams were not somehow intertwined. In the back of your mind, you knew your pleas were useless. 

Your mouth opens and closes a few times like a fish that’s been plucked from the water before you finally find your voice, “What… what am I doing in them?” Your whole body buzzes, fearing the answer and desperately needing it all at once. 

The princess hesitates, you want to scream as you can all but see her weighing her options in her mind before she finally, finally speaks. 

“Courting me, kissing me.” 

A small withering, wounded noise passes your lips at her words. You feel dizzy, the room spinning as you feel as though the entire world is crashing down around you while at the same time, it’s as if a mountain’s worth of weight has been lifted from your shoulders. 

“And your visions… they only show things already fated to occur?” You feel frozen as you ask, not a muscle in your body moving. You know the answer even as the question leaves your lips, but you need to hear her say it. 

Helaena sighs and shakes her head, a frown cutting across her pretty face, “That’s why it’s frustrating,” she bites, spitting the words like the mere act of explaining is painful, “This one cannot come to pass, I do not understand why I see it…”

She keeps speaking, talking through her annoyance, but the sound of your own blood pumping wildly through your veins blocks out her words. 

No, your head pounds as you silently scream, No, no, no! Please, just let me explain, give me a chance, I’ll do any—

A loud sob cuts through your thoughts; the world seems to wrench its way back to you as you look at the princess, eyes widening when you see the tears flowing down her flushed cheeks. 

“You could never truly wish to…” She says slowly, brokenly, words fading like she can’t even bear to say them. 

“I do.” The words feel punched from your chest like you’re holding your heart out to the open air.

Helaena’s ocean eyes cut to yours as her breath hitches, the both of you not daring to move a muscle as you sit together on the small sofa in her chambers; the fire crackling in the hearth is the only indication that time has not ceased to exist. 

You aren’t sure who moves first, maybe the Gods have threaded the two of you together so tightly that you move as one, you can’t be sure. 

But her lips are on yours. 

And her hands cup your cheeks as yours scramble to fit around her waist, four hands poised on a knife’s edge. 

You sigh against each other, pulled together like a knot in a thread, and you gasp as you find yourselves pressed together, chest to chest.

Finally, you part for air, panting together as you stare, foreheads pressed together. 

“Princess—“

“You love me?” She asks, swiping a thumb over your cheek; it’s only then you realize you’re crying. 

“Yes,” you breathe, your hands grip her tighter, pulling her impossibly closer to you, “And you?” 

“Yes,” she echos, her thighs slotting over one of yours as she climbs atop your lap, “You are my heart beating out of my body.” 

Her words zap through you and your heart twists in your chest as your hands clamber against her, your lips press against hers again urgently. Twin moans, muffled into each other's mouths, sound between you as your hands cup her rear, pressing her more urgently against you. 

“You are beautiful,” you sigh, hands grabbing at her plush curves through the silk fabric of her skirts, “You’re so soft and —“ 

“Warm,” she breathes, moaning into the column of your neck as her lips move against your skin, “You’re so warm, my love, like the sun.” 

My love. The pet name sends a shiver down your spine as the two of you move together, pressing kisses against whatever patches of skin you can find, rocking together instinctually. The firmness of her thigh presses deliciously against your center, your skirts rucked up enough to bare your smallclothes, which press welty against your core. 

You gasp, pressing a kiss to the princess’s collarbone as her hips move tantalizingly on your thigh, the warmth between her legs nearly suffocating as you whimper and sign against each other’s soft skin. 

“I have always loved you,” you confess, nearly coming undone as she begins tugging at the ties at the bosom of your gown, her hands shaking as she pulls them loose, “Always, from the first moment I saw you.”

She makes a noise between a moan and sob as she finally tugs your bodice loose, and you whimper as her lithe fingers ghost over your breasts, causing your back to arch into her touch. “I’ve always loved you too,” she sighs as her soft hands cup your chest, kneading the flesh in her palms, “I always wanted to court you, marry you, I,” her voice breaks off in a faint, high-pitched whine as you finally manage to unbutton the bodice of her gown, she savors the feel of your lips and hands against her breasts for a moment more before continuing, “Gods, I wished to bed you, I’ve always longed to know what you would feel like, how sweet you’d taste.”

Her confessions nearly make you weep as you kiss over the fat of her breasts, keening into her supple skin as she delicately pinches at your nipples, “I have only ever thought of you, my sweet princess,” your chest heaves as you speak, your words muffled as you lick over her nipple, “When I sleep, when I wake, when I–” The words stick in your throat as you freeze, peering up at her through your lashes, somehow still impossibly afraid of going too far, or too fast, or too anything. 

“When you what?” She asks, her voice so soft and sweet as she stares down at you, her fingers digging into your breast and side as her sapphire eyes flit between yours, “Tell me, my love, when you what?” She urges, her hips moving somehow more desperately against yours, only serving to fuel the fire slowly building within you. 

“Gods, when I touch myself,” you whisper, shuddering as she lets out a breathy moan above you, “When I peak, sweet princess, I think only of you.” Your confession ends in a sharp gasp as she angles you backwards, anchoring you to her with an arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Her lips trail down your neck and collarbone before finally, she presses firm, fiery kisses to your breast, panting as she wraps her petal pink lips around your nipple and sucks, pressing her thigh more firmly against your center as she does. 

“I think only of you too,” she breathes, blue eyes fluttering up to yours as your hands tangle in her pale locks, “Every time I touch myself, I dream of you,” she mumbles around your breast, her touch all but burning into you as she kisses across your chest before mouthing at the other side, “When my brother beds me, it is you I see, my precious lady.”

You practically sob as her admission sends you reeling, each cell in your body bursting like lightning from a stormcloud as you peak. You’re useless to do much else other than tremble in her hold as shivers travel in currents down your spine, your smallclothes no doubt ruined as your center clenches frantically at nothing, your pearl so taut and achy as it twitches against the princess’s thigh. 

You don’t waste a second when your high subsides, moving frantically as you push Helaena back, slotting yourself perfectly atop her, pressing your thigh between her legs like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. Your skirts fan out around your bodies, blanketing your forms in a soft sea of silk, your bare chests pressed tightly together as you rut against her, needing to see her awash with pleasure more than you need breath in your lungs. 

“My love, my sweet princess,” you sigh into her mouth, your tongues swirling together as she all but cries beneath you, her hands digging possessively into your waist, “I am yours, my love, until the end of my days.” You swear, pressing your thigh tightly against her center, and your heart soars as she finally shatters in your grasp.

You watch, enraptured, as she peaks; mesmerized at the blush that blooms on her skin, at the way her blue eyes roll back as her eyes flutter closed, at how her breasts heave as she sucks in desperate breaths. The sounds she makes seem to pierce into your soul, each whimper and moan and cry ripping away parts of you until your heart is stripped bare, beating only for her. 

The two of you lay in a heady silence for many moments, the only sounds being your soft, panting breaths as you each come down and the ever-present crackle sounding from the hearth. 

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe.” Helaena whispers, her voice raspy as she speaks.

“Pardon?” You ask, pulling back from her embrace just enough to meet her gaze.

“That phrase,” she explains, her eyes glimmering in the firelight as a smile steadily blossoms on her pink lips, “I kept hearing it, in my dreams about you.”

You stay silent, tracing soft circles on her soft skin, leaving room for her to continue.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but now I see.”

“Hm?”

You aren’t my friend, the Gods spoke truthfully,” she beams, radiating joy as she studies your face, “You’re my love.”

Her statement is simple, but it makes you smile all the same as you press a sweet kiss to her lips.

“Yes,” you nod, pulling back to meet her eyes as you lay a hand over her heart, “Always.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux @grsveeth0m

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[theemporium]

witch!reader being drained from using too much of her powers and she just slumps over onto the back patio couch and passes out and wakes up to find two wolves nosing at her with worried whines and she’s like “hi Charles, Max” and then falls back asleep while the boys are sharing a look and going WHAT THE FUCK

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

You found it oddly endearing that the boys thought you were clueless to their secret.

You had known what they were the second you met them. You felt the shift in their auras, felt the rush of their true selves when you touched them for the first time. You knew. And you knew how protective wolves could get when it came to their kind, to their pack and the bonds they formed. You respected the fact they wouldn’t want to tell you instantly, but you knew. 

The relationship grew stronger when you came clean about yourself (though you hadn’t done much to hide it), and both boys had accepted you instantly. There was no fear or hesitation or concern about the powers you harboured. If anything, it made them love you more but it wasn’t enough for them to come clean. And once again, you respected that. 

But it was sweet how unbelievably unsubtle they were with their attempts to hide their secret. You don’t think they realised how bad they were, but it amused you nonetheless. It became pretty obvious to you who the two wolves at the bottom of your garden were, or the reason they were following you when you would head into the woods to collect some ingredients. 

Yet, it still warmed your heart every time you saw the two large wolves—one dark brown and the other blond—always checking up on you.

And truthfully, you hadn’t meant to reveal your knowledge of their secret in such a way. 

It had been a long week. With the moon in the perfect position, aligned with the planets and stronger than it ever could be on a full moon, you had been overworking yourself. Most other witches had covens, they had someone else to supply them and take off the stress of the magic. But that wasn’t the case for you, and it meant that every spell was quickly dwindling your reservoir to the point of exhaustion. 

You tried to pace yourself, to give yourself enough time between spells to rest and rejuvenate. But the planets were shifting and you were losing time and you pushed yourself over the edge for one last spell. 

You didn’t remember making it back to your house, not a second of the walk back from the woods in your memory. You didn’t remember crawling up the steps of the patio. And you certainly didn’t remember passing out on the couch outside, your body falling into some makeshift comatose state to try and reserve what little energy you had left. 

Everything was bleary when you felt someone nudging your arm. 

You waited for it to stop but it never did. The nudges became more insistent, and then you felt someone nudging your leg too. You made a noise of discontentment but your eyes remained shut, which didn’t seem to please whatever was nudging you. 

You felt a little more awake when you heard a low whine. It sounded scared, like a plea for help rather than anything else. It sounded concerned. You tried your best to force your eyes open, to blink them open to see whatever was nudging you.

It took a few seconds for coloured splodges to become actual shapes but once your eyes focused on the two wolves in front of you, you couldn’t help but let a smile take over your face.

“My boys,” you murmured happily as you let out a deep sigh. “Just such caring puppies, hm?”

If it was possible for wolves to look comically confused, you would have thought you were seeing said expression right then.

You let out a small snort. “Of course I know it’s you.”

Both wolves stayed frozen in their spot as you reached out towards them, your fingers brushing against their fur before your hand fell limp at your side again. You blinked, a little slower and your eyes stayed closed for much longer intervals too. You could practically feel the concern radiating off them.

“M’fine,” you murmured as you nuzzled your face into the couch cushion with a sleepy smile. “Just a lil’ tired. Just…need a nap.”

Everything felt far too fuzzy and it didn’t take long before the exhaustion won over your body, pulling you back into a deep sleep before you could even realise the boys were shifting back into their human forms.

“Mon amour,” Charles whispered in a worried voice, kneeling beside the couch as he gently stroked his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “She’s out cold.”

“She needs to rest so she doesn’t burn herself out completely,” Max said with a frown on his face, shaking his head. “She was reckless. She could have hurt herself if she wasn’t careful.”

Charles hummed, nodding his head in agreement. “And she knows.”

“We were stupid for thinking we could hide it from her,” Max replied honestly before he grabbed a blanket, placing it over your body before you got too cold. “Let’s take her inside, help warm her up.”

Charles turned to the other boy, eyes wide and a little glossy. “Will she be okay?”

“We’ll take care of her,” Max reassured him, running a hand through the boy’s hair until he melted under the touch. “C’mon, I’ll make us some dinner for her to wake up to too.”

.

[morning-star-joy]

here, everyone knows you're the way to my heart

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Neighbors, Joel x F!Reader, Ellie x Platonic Reader

Summary: At Joel's request, you teach Ellie how to press flowers, and become even more engrained in the life of your neighbors. Joel continues to struggle with your kindness, and makes a choice that'll have consequences between you.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Grumpy x Sunshine, Mutual Pining, Implied Age Gap. Angst. Joel's an emotionally unavailable asshole. Petname (dollface). Mentions of food and eating. Cigarette use. Language. Please check series warnings on masterlist.

A/N: This took far too long, like 5 months after I started this series, but it's here now! Angst is kicking in towards the end of this one and through the next few parts so...yeah. Buckle in loves. Ty for being so patient and supportive for this fic!

Wordcount: 6.3k

Part I || Part IV || Part V || Series Masterlist

Masterlist || Kofi || Updates Blog

Looking back at it all now, the way you always acted around Joel finally made sense.

It had started out of neighborly kindness. You treated the older man, and the girl who he looked after, the same way you would’ve treated anybody who moved in next door, with a warm smile and offers of goodwill made by your own hand.

Somewhere along the way though, your reasons for seeking Joel out had shifted, so subtly that you hadn’t even realized it until suddenly it was all you could think about.

And now he was all you could think about.

Out in your garden, tending to your flowers, you wondered which blooms you could give him next. The meanings hidden within each family of plants, each variation of color, how you could tell him exactly the way you felt without him knowing a single thing.

In your kitchen, baking a small batch of brownies for Ms. Garcia again, wondering if Joel would like some, if you should set aside a few for him to try. Wondering if he liked something decadent, if the dour man had a secret sweet tooth, or maybe he preferred a sour taste instead.

Wondering if he had even cared enough to try the banana bread you had brought to him when he first settled in. 

Or if he had put any of your flowers in a vase like you had told him to.

Hoping you’d see him when you walked out of your house in the morning to go about your daily tasks helping out around Jackson, or hear that soft music played by rough fingers on his porch at night.

So when there was a rapt knock on your door one afternoon, you rushed from the kitchen to answer it without a care for your apron splattered with remnants of baking ingredients, too full of irrational hope until you opened the door, and your eyes were led down.

But the sight before you still brought a smile to your face, watching as the girl who also lived next door to you brightened when she saw you. Her awkward slouch straightened, a tentative smile twitching on her face to answer your welcoming one.

“Hey,” Ellie offered in terms of cautious greeting with a little wave, stuffing her hands back into the front pockets of her jeans, rocking back and forth on her heels as you returned her wave cheerfully. “Uh, I’m here for the…flower lessons?”

“Oh! Of course, please come in,” you chirped, smile widening into a grin with excitement at the prospect of sharing your knowledge of botanicals with somebody willing to learn. 

There weren’t many people in Jackson who were as invested in gardening as you—some even turned their nose up at it, deeming it trivial in the kind of world you lived in, when others were working day in and out to keep the place not only running, but as safe as could be.

But what was the point of having all this safety, if there was no warmth of it? What was the point of surviving without living, without finding what beauty remained, lovingly tending to it so it could grow, and cherishing its worth?

So you had been thrilled to learn from Joel that Ellie wanted to know how to press flowers, but you hadn’t wanted to overwhelm the girl, deciding it was best to let her come to you. 

Though she had seemed bright and energetic for the most part, and had been kind the few times she’d called to you from the next porch over, at times there was a shadow cast over her young face, a look that almost reminded you of a cornered animal. A soul that had grown up without knowing any sort of beauty.

And so you hoped that by showing her patience and kindness, Ellie would find there were still beautiful things that remained in the world around you.

“I thought maybe you had smelled the brownies,” you teased as you led her through the house, glancing back to see her eyes light up at the mention of desserts.

“Like, as in chocolate brownies?” Ellie asked, suddenly on your heels as you entered the kitchen, and you laughed at the way her jaw dropped at the sight of ingredients set out on your counter, in the midst of making a batch when she had dropped by.

“Yup,” you popped the ‘p’ of the word as you circled the counter, gesturing to the batter you had been mixing with a fond smile at her growing grin of excitement. “I don’t always have the ingredients for it, but when I do, I always try and make a batch for Ms. Garcia down the street—they’re her favorite.”

Ellie wrinkled her nose at the mention of the older woman, bright mood dropping quickly at the name, even as she stepped closer to you to peer down into the bowl when you picked the whisk back up. “I don’t like her.”

Arching an eyebrow down at her, you countered the blunt statement with, “Do you know her?”

The young girl paused, eyes flashing up to meets yours, looking a little taken aback by the question before you saw her stubbornness double down before your eyes, squinting up at you as she shot back, “Well, she doesn’t know me, but she sure likes to talk shit about me. Joel too.”

You frowned, sighing softly before glancing back down at your batter to mix it a few more times. “Yeah, she can be a bit of a busybody. She’s lived in Jackson longer than most, and she’s watched so many people come and go that I think she finds herself a bit of an expert on the matter of who lives here.”

“She should mind her own fucking business,” Ellie mumbled, and you both found yourself looking at each other in surprise when a snort of shocked laughter left you, four eyes wide before the girl’s smile grew mischievous at your hint of amusement that you quickly tried to hide.

“I’m not a fan of gossip, and she does a bit too much of it,” you admitted with a sigh, turning to grab a pan to pour the batter into so you could get it in the oven and move on to what she had come here for. “But she’s lost a lot, and I try to offer some kindness to her.”

“Like you do with me and Joel.”

Your head whips back around to Ellie, eyes wide at the no punches drawn comparison.

That’s also when you see her hand as it crept towards the uncooked mix of ingredients for a sneak taste, and you gently smacked it away, lips twitching up into a smile as she huffed indignantly that you had caught her.

“Everybody deserves some kindness,” you replied softly as you poured and spread the batter into the pan, sliding it into the sweltering heat of the oven and setting your little timer. You turned back with a smile that showed your genuine motivation in spreading goodwill, one that made the tension in Ellie’s shoulders relax. “How could that not include my new neighbors?”

“Yeah, okay, Sunshine,” Ellie teased with a roll of her eyes, and you laughed again, not only amused by her wry sense of humor, but happy to see how she perked up at your positive reception to her jokes. “I came here for the flower shit, remember? But I’m definitely staying for those brownies.”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you gestured for her to follow you out the back door to your garden. When Ellie descended from the porch and stopped short, turning around in place to take in your carefully tended garden, you felt a swell of pride in your chest at the wonder in her wide-eyed gaze.

“Holy shit,” Ellie breathed out, her tone impressed as she glanced over your carefully coordinated flowers spreading throughout the yard. “You did all of this?”

“Sure did,” you chirped, a bright grin on your face that she slowly matched with one of her own as you led her to the flowers you’d be working on today. 

“I’ve had to do a lot of digging around for them—both through trades and, well,” you gestured with the trowel you picked up to accentuate your point, “literally.”

Ellie snorted, rolling her eyes at your joke, even as the sharp brown of them lit up more than you had seen yet at your bad pun. The cheer faded into something more somber, almost melancholic as she knelt down next to you in front of the patch of white and yellow daisies.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she mumbles as you pick up a pair of shears to give to her, and you watch as she takes the tool and holds it as if ready to wield it. 

The teen doesn’t even seem to notice the way she holds it out, sharp edges pointed away from herself like preparing to stab an Infected that didn’t exist within the walls of Jackson, and you wonder just what Ellie has gone through in her short life, how many improvised weapons she’s learned to make deadly, how hard she’s had to fight just to make it this far.

You’re reminded once again of the spooked animal backed into a corner at the sight of her awkwardly gripping the shears, and you show her your open palms before slowly reaching out, making your intentions clear before gently readjusting her grip on the shears.

“You’re nurturing something,” you say gently, picking up another pair of shears and demonstrating how you trim the dead leaves off your plants before finding a bright yellow daisy to carefully pick. “Not killing it.”

Ellie frowns, watching you retrieve the fresh bloom and present it to her with a smile. She takes it gingerly, staring down at the petals as she swirls it between her fingers and says bluntly, “But it’s gonna die anyway.”

You falter, a frown pulling onto your lips as you hear the unmistakable truth, the knowledge that ran deeper than just flowers in her grave words.

“It will,” you assent, voice quiet as you pick another one, handing it to her to join the first. “But they’re not alone. We’ll appreciate them while we have them, and when they’re gone, we’ll keep a reminder of them, like you wanted to learn.”

Ellie glanced up, solemn frown turning into one of confusion with the pinch of her brows. “Huh?”

Now it was your turn to frown, your facial expression mirroring hers as you clarify, “We’ll press the flowers. That’s what Joel said you wanted to learn.”

Blinking rapidly, Ellie shifted around to face you completely, and you did the same as you stared at each other in dual confusion and misunderstanding. “Joel said what now?”

“He said that you wanted to press flowers,” you said slowly, head tilting to the side as Ellie’s mouth opened before she stopped, eyes lighting up in sudden understanding that you were still lacking.

“Ooooh,” she drew out the sound of realization as you continued to look at her blankly, a slow smirk stretching across her face before she looked back down at the daisies, then up at you again. “Yeah, right! Pressing flowers. Yup, that’s what I told him. Totally wanted to learn that.”

There was a new excitement in Ellie’s eyes now as she nodded enthusiastically, matching the mischievous smirk on her face, and you tentatively gave your own nod before turning back to the flowers, continuing to pick a few more daisies along with her as the girl kept shooting you looks and asking you questions about the flowers decorating your garden.

“What’s that one mean?” she asks, pointing her shears towards a bunch of blooming lilies with bright pink leaves stretching outward.

“Pink lilies symbolize love and femininity,” you explain, snipping away a few dead leaves around a few more flowers before pushing yourself to your feet. “A lot of the time, they’re gifted between women because of that. It’s a show of admiration.”

Ellie nodded slowly, perking up at the explanation as she rose to her own feet beside you. She cast another glance around the garden, turning around slowly on her feet much like she did when first coming out, but you saw a honed look in her gaze, different from the wide scale glance of appreciation for the flowers from before.

And you understood the subtle calculation in the action when she not so subtly asked, “What about that one?”

Your eyes followed the direction she was pointing in to find your roses swaying gently in the spring breeze, and your back stiffened instantly.

“Uh—” Clearing your throat, you shifted awkwardly on your feet, trying to brush off the inkling that she knew what you had given Joel, ignoring the shrewd way she focused in on your face while you tried to turn it away from her observation. “Different colors have different meanings—”

“The orange one!”

You froze, holding your shears tightly in one hand and your own bundle of daisies in the other, trying to hide your internal panic and knowing you failed when you heard a snicker from beside you, letting you know that she must have seen the rose you’d given Joel at some point.

Did that mean he kept it?

You swallowed down the sudden surge of excitement at the thought, trying to focus past your feelings towards the man as you glanced back at the smirking teen beside you.

Clever kid.

“They’re energetic flowers,” you admitted a partial truth slowly, moving towards your back porch to drop off your tools and conveniently face away from Ellie, when she bounced in front of you to walk backwards, eyes fixed on your face with a purely trouble-making grin.

“Energetic how?” she prodded, arching her scarred eyebrow, and you sighed.

“They typically are meant to convey…fascination,” you hedged with the explanation as you set your shears down on your workbench, beckoning for her to do the same with hers before opening the back door and letting her go inside first.

“And not so typically?”

Holding back a groan, you strode past Ellie quickly, busying yourself with finding a small, unused book in your living room to start her collection of dried flowers in. You mumble the answer as you try to bury your face in the book, hoping she wouldn’t continue to interrogate you for her own amusement.

But as any true teenager would, she popped up behind you with a bright, “What’s that?” and you snapped the book shut with a groan after flipping through the pages.

“Attraction,” you admitted on a loud sigh, turning to see her grinning up at you. You resisted a smile yourself, her youthful glee at sticking her nose where it didn’t belong nearly infectious, even through your embarrassment at being caught. You passed the book to her, beckoning her to join you on the couch so you could show her how to press the flowers on your coffee table. “Happy?”

“Very,” Ellie grinned, and you could almost see her mentally filing away the information for the most inopportune time, all the while your own mind churned over the meaning of the flower you had left unsaid.

The very meaning that you had given Joel the flower for, the feelings that he stirred up inside you again and again with each fleeting look, stronger with each passing moment in his presence, even without him intentionally fanning the flames.

You wondered how much longer it would take until it finally burned you.

Joel had tremendously, irrevocably fucked up this time.

He should have never let you get that close. 

He should have said no when you asked him if he wanted that smoke, even if it meant seeing dejection on your face before you turned from him and hurried back inside the safety of your home. As far from him as allowed with fate—or, more likely, his goddamn brother—putting him next door to you. 

You should be far away from the likes of him.

The dejection would’ve been better than the hope that flooded your face whenever you saw him now. It would’ve been easier if you avoided him instead of seeking him out, less excruciating than the ache steadily settling into his very bones when your eyes lit up every time they met his own if you happened to see him, or find him, around town.

Spring was warming into summer, and you shone in the warmth of the sunlight, like those flowers you loved so much that he’d catch you taking care of around town. Half the times he ran into you, you were leaning over some flower bed or up on your tiptoes to reach a hanging basket, tending to the bright blooms that faded in comparison to your brilliance.

Joel would try and get away as fast as possible, if you didn’t catch him staring more often than not. You’d approach him, offer a new flower to him with a dazzling smile that burned itself into his eyelids and taunted him every time he blinked.

The new flower would go into that same shitty vase, and the old one would join the ever growing pile of dying flowers on the edge of the counter, balanced precariously close to the trash bin next to it.

He kept telling himself he’d shove them all into the trash someday.

But every time a dried petal would flutter into the bin, he’d lean over with a grunt at that persistent ache in the back of his left knee and pull the splintering petal back out, setting it back onto the counter with the other blossoms that continued to fall apart.

One of these days, he’d get rid of them.

Every time he entered the kitchen, he’d tell himself it was that day.

And every time his hand hovered over them, gazing over the once full of life blossoms that had dampened with the passage of time, he’d decide tomorrow would be better. 

The pile of flowers grew, until one day Ellie stopped in her tracks heading through the kitchen, staring pointedly at the dried up petals hanging on for the last dregs of dear life off brittle stems, and then back at Joel.

And he pointedly ignored her, focusing on peeling the washed apple in his hand, knife carefully shedding the skin as he asked her before she could speak, “Where you goin’?”

“To learn more about flowers with your girlfriend,” she shot back, the snicker evident in her voice, and Joel’s thumb froze, the shiny red peel of the apple hanging in a swirl off the fruit in his hands.

“My—” he shook his head sharply, brows knitted together as he huffed out a quiet, exasperated breath. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I hardly know her.”

“Sure.”

Joel exhaled sharply, the peel finally falling into the sink when he finished, and he focused on cutting off a slice instead of the aggravating tone in Ellie’s voice that said she knew something he didn’t.

Something he in fact knew very well, as infuriating as it was to deal with.

“She just lives next door, Ellie,” he doubled down, only looking up to pass her a slice of apple, then another slice when she popped the first one into her mouth, even as he shook his head in disapproval when she smiled wide with the apple in front of her teeth when she saw his exasperation with her antics. “Thought you could give each other some company.”

“Right,” she mumbled through a mouthful of the chewed fruit, and he shot her a disapproving look that she only snickered at. To her credit, she did at least swallow down the first piece and hold off on eating the second to say clearly, innocent words with a sharp double meaning, “Nice flowers, by the way. What a neighborly gift. I sure admire them.”

Joel frowned, glancing from Ellie towards the light red flowers that currently sat in the vase—carnations, he thinks. You’d given them to him a couple days ago, when he had been on the way home from a patrol that had taken him out before the sun rose, and brought him back when it was finally setting again. 

Your head had popped up at the sound of his footsteps going past your house, a grin spreading across your face before you called out to him. There was a quick snip of the stems at the flower bed you were kneeling at in your front yard before you rose and handed them to him over the fence, old wood with peeling white paint that separated you from each other.

He had thought of you on your knees that night, the dirt on your skin, what it would be like to rub it off with a gentle caress until each passing of his thumb over your knee would turn needy. Desperate.

God fucking dammit, longing.

But he thought of the unabashed smile you offered him, and the startling way it eased his worn nerves after the long day even more.

What an old, goddamn fool he was.

And what made matters so much worse was how fond Ellie was growing of you. He could deal with his own…his own, whenever you were around him for too long.

But each time Ellie returned from a visit to you happier than when she’d left, it was harder to keep those lines that separated his life from yours from blurring even more. Two sets of fences separated your property from his, but your very being still bled into him, seeping into his bones and settling with a tension under his skin when you began to brighten not just everybody’s fucking day, but Ellie’s as well.

You may have given the girl a gift of flowers to help her feel welcome in Jackson, but it was you who truly made the kid feel at ease. Joel had hardly heard so much praise for anybody else from her, and he couldn’t even be irritated when Ellie started coming home from her flower lessons with you first with gifts of brownies and cookies, and then with casseroles, full meals in dishes that they’d sit side by side on the couch with a couple of forks and eat from together.

“She doesn’t think we eat enough,” Ellie mumbled through a mouthful of casserole one night, and Joel scoffed, even as he shoveled another bite into his own mouth.

“She’s right,” he begrudgingly relented once the dish was empty on the coffee table, their forks discarded inside, and they both fell into a peaceful nap like you had delivered them a fucking Thanksgiving.

Everything you did to him, everything you made Joel feel was harder to ignore when he saw the positive influence you had on Ellie. She went from hardly ever getting out of the house to looking forward to those flower lessons he had lied to both her and you about the other person coming up with the idea, when it was his own.

His own stupid blunder, the question of how to press a flower falling from his lips that night he had made the crucial mistake of letting you get too close. The question he had asked to stop the other question from leaving him, the one that had been taunting him nearly from the first time you had fixed him with that dazzling smile and wide, kind eyes.

How do you do it?

How are you so kind? 

How do you not hate the world?

How do you not hate him for hardly giving you the time of day everybody else was more than willing to give to you? 

All because he was old and bitter and couldn’t fucking admit to himself how you were growing on him, how you were branching out around every cursed inch of him and entangling him in all your softness, pulling him in like ivy, pernicious in its beauty until he crumbled under the weight of your light.

He was too scorned to appreciate what you illuminated in your path, taking your sunshine for a burn on his skin whenever he let you take another step closer.

Somewhere inside him, he worried that he’d burn you too, if he kept letting you take another step.

And somewhere even deeper, he feared that he wanted to.

If he saw you crack, if he got you to lash out at him, maybe he’d finally understand you.

Maybe he could finally let himself—

Fuck, he was an awful human being, if he was even that. The things he’d done, the things he’d still do—he needed to stay away from you.

And if he wasn’t so awful, he would.

If he wasn’t a selfish man, he would’ve sat out on his back porch to play his guitar night after night. Or better yet, stay inside altogether.

He wouldn’t be sitting out on the front porch as soon as the sun began to set, his eyes flickering towards the lights that would flick on in the house next door, filtering through the floral curtains when he switched to strumming a new song.

His fingers wouldn’t be twitching in yearning to hold a cigarette between them, his throat not parched for the stream of smoke that mixed with the sweet taste of you on his lips from sharing that cigarette with you.

He wouldn’t let you consume his every thought. He wouldn’t let you get closer when you weren’t even there.

He wouldn’t let you.

But he did.

He always did.

And maybe he always would.

It happens like clockwork.

As soon as the sun starts to set and sends the deepest hues of purple and pink cascading across the sky, the gentle strumming of a guitar starts. The music bleeds through the walls of your home, and at this point, you’re always sitting by the window in your living room when it starts.

You’d learned to crack open the window the slightest bit before the sunset begins, so you can hear it better when he plays.

You’d also learned to flick the light on in the room when it starts to get too dark. Because when you did, those calloused fingers you could see so well when you closed your eyes would stop across the strings.

There’d be a pause, and then he’d start again. A different song each time, and you’d lean against the wall and listen, his music filtering in as your light filtered out.

You could never bring yourself to open the curtains, but you wondered if he ever noticed the crack in the window after the first few times.

Sometimes you’d read, letting Joel’s music blanket your senses as your mind got carried away into whatever story was on the pages in your hands.

Other times you’d swirl the stem of a flower between your fingertips, the next one that you planned to give him. Or run your fingers down the recipes in a worn cookbook, searching for the next treat or meal you’d give Ellie to take home after a visit.

One night, you’d fallen asleep like that, curled against the wall and waking up with a start and a crick in your neck when nightmares plagued your sleeping mind again.

And when his music still filtered through, it had seemed like such a good idea to get even closer to it. 

There was a comfort to it, real or imagined, and you needed it. You at least had half a mind for a jacket and shoes that time, shoving the dwindling supply of cigarettes you had into the pocket before you stepped out onto the porch, letting the door shut behind you without a care to try and hide it that time.

The music stopped abruptly. By the time you dared a glance over, he was already looking at you.

A moment of silence that felt like forever stretched in that short distance between your porches before Joel jerked his head in a silent beckoning for you to approach, and you were off towards him in an instant.

That first night—or the second, really—you didn’t say a word to each other. You shared another cigarette until your nerves had settled, and left with a small wave and a thankful smile that was returned only with the growing familiarity in the weight of his gaze on you until you disappeared back inside your house.

The next few times it happened, you’d make small talk. A nervous habit, and he didn’t look at you as you spoke, but he’d give small hums every now and then. The smallest scraps of attention that only made you keep coming back.

When you were out of cigarettes, a fear caved in on you that he wouldn’t want you there, that he wouldn’t tolerate your presence if you didn’t have anything to offer.

So you padded about your kitchen that day, making three different batches of cookies as you couldn’t decide on which one to give him. Even with the way you found your life intertwined with his more and more, there was still so much you didn’t know about the man. So much you wanted to know.

Eventually, you settled on a hunch that he did have a secret sweet tooth. Either Ellie scarfed down every batch of sweets you sent her home with—which very well could be—or she shared them with Joel, and the latter thought had you crossing over to his porch that night, a plate of peanut butter cookies nervously clutched in hand.

Cookies he stared at when you ascended the steps to him, sending your heart into a nervous flutter when his jaw set as severely as the first time you’d shown up on his doorstep with an offer of goodwill in something you’d baked with your own hands.

“I was out of cigarettes,” you offered weakly for an excuse as you seemed to mess up around your neighbor once again, and Joel’s gaze finally flashed up to your face, flickering over whatever emotions were probably bleeding through onto your features before looking away.

His hand lifted from the neck of his guitar, rifling through a pocket of his worn jacket until he pulled out his own few rolled up cigarettes with a lighter, which you blinked at in surprise.

“Where did you—”

“Don’t matter,” he mumbled, gaze averted from yours, and you tried to swallow down a lump in your throat as he held them up.

Wordlessly, he passed them to you, and you handed him the cookies, which he set onto the small table beside his chair and stared at as if your gift was the greatest offense you could have ever made.

You tried to find relief in the nicotine, but he kept staring at those darn cookies, a furrow in his strong brow and a dark look in his eyes that you wished you could ease, or at least understand.

Eventually, you dared to try and speak.

“I—”

“I don’t get it.”

Your brow furrowed when Joel interrupted you, confused as to what he meant, and he seemed just as confused as he glanced over your face before hesitantly clarifying, “Your…kindness. The way you’re so positive all the time.”

He raised his hand from the neck of his guitar, gesturing towards the cookies with it, then in the air as he listed off with a voice tinged with irritation, “Baking. Flowers. Fucking…smiling like you do. I don’t get it.”

Your stomach flipped again when Joel met your eyes for a brief moment before he looked back down at his guitar, setting it aside with a sigh so he could rest his hands on his knees, and you murmured, “Well, I'm glad you're finally saying it.”

Joel’s head rose, his gaze finding you again as you gave a small smile, his entire body stiffening at the sight while you continued, “I knew you hated me since you came to Jackson, but it's a bit freeing to hear you finally admit it.”

His jaw clenched, eyes flickering all over your face, as if he was searching for…you didn’t know what he was searching for, and didn’t know whether or not he found it as his eyes narrowed and he looked away again.

“I don’t…” Joel trailed off with a heavy sigh, lifting a hand to rub down over his face, his next words muffled against his palm as he said slowly, “...I just don’t get it.”

His hand dropped, hanging between his knees as he said to you directly, “I’m not kind to you.”

Your head tilted, observing him quietly for a moment to try and see what he was getting at, figure out whether he wanted an answer or not. When he kept looking at you expectantly, you replied quietly, “No, you’re not.”

“So why are you so fucking nice to me?” 

With a shrug, you answered easily, “Because I’m nice to everybody.”

“Why?” 

You sighed, feeling a small flare of irritation at Joel’s persistence on the topic, but you let the feeling fade as you shrugged again.

But when you opened your mouth to reply, Joel swiftly rose, taking a step towards you as he lifted a finger to gesture towards your face while he murmured, “There. I saw it. You were annoyed.”

You raised an eyebrow, a quiet laugh slipping from you as you searched for the words you wanted to say, but it was getting increasingly more difficult to think as he slowly closed the distance between you.

“I get irritated, Mr. Miller,” you said patiently, watching Joel’s jaw clench again, though you weren’t sure what set off the reaction as you continued, “I’m only human. But what would being mad get me?”

“Satisfaction,” he replied easily, getting closer now, and your breathing quickened, pulse racing as you noticed again how big he was, how thick those arms were when he crossed them across his chest and how broad that was, and your mind was screaming at you danger again, just like that first night on his porch. 

Not because he was dangerous—though he might as well be from the rumors, just not towards you, not in that way—but because these feelings he stirred from you threatened to pull you under completely if he suddenly decided to stop keeping that short bit of distance that remained between you.

Lord, when had that distance gotten so short?

“There’s plenty of things to be satisfied about, Mr. Miller,” you said calmly, watching his jaw tick again, and your head tilted, observing him as closely as he watched you. “Cruelty isn’t one of them.”

“No?” he asked softly, the volume of his voice a direct juxtaposition to the stern heat in his gaze, and you shivered again, one of your hands pulling your jacket tighter around yourself in the same moment he reached for your other hand.

You froze as Joel tugged the cigarette from your grasp, holding it in front of your eyes as he mumbled, “Like this?” before dropping it to the porch, lifting his boot to stomp it out, and your breath hitched as he leaned in closer towards you. “Is that vice of yours really enough to satisfy you, dollface?”

Doll—

It was harder to breathe now, your head spinning, mouth still warm and tingling from the mere memory of that taste of him you had once gotten on another cigarette—mint and whiskey, mint and whiskey, and you wondered if his lips would taste of that now if pressed to yours, your tongue in his mouth to explore it and find out.

You quickly shook the heat of the spiraling thoughts from your mind as you breathed out, “There’s enough wrong with the world, Joel. I don’t plan to add to it.”

He exhaled sharply then, and your eyelashes fluttered as you felt his breath wash over your face, and there was that same scent of mint and something wholly intoxicating enveloping your senses and oh god, when had he gotten that close, but you were lost in the proximity as he murmurs, “Say it again.”

You could hear your blood rushing through your head now muffling your ears, heart pounding in your chest that was heaving from quick breaths as you whispered distractedly, “What?”

“Say it,” Joel repeated, leaning closer, and your breath hitched, lips parting when his nose brushed against yours, feeling your pulse between your legs now as he ordered in a low tone, “Again.”

Your mind was struggling to keep up, trying to find out what he meant, trying to find logic in the situation.

But there was no logic, only feeling, only this strange all encompassing heat, and your lips parted further to whisper what you knew he wanted to hear, “Joel—”

“Fuck,” Joel hissed, the curse slipping from his mouth a mere moment before it was on yours.

The only thing that you could manage to do was moan, the warmth of his lips pressed to your own increasing the heat until you felt like you were standing in the middle of a fire, feeling as much warmth as you did a scalding burn when he jerked away from you as quickly as he had kissed you.

Kissed you.

Joel had kissed you.

Something he was apparently horrified by as he leaned away from you, wide eyes darting across your face as he breathed out another, “Fuck,” before he was spinning on his heel and marching towards his door.

You knew it was coming before it happened, the same thing that always happened when Joel seemed to think you got too close. And so you were left standing on his front porch, burning with heat that still lingered on your skin, on your lips from where he had kissed them for just a few seconds before tearing himself away, the door slammed in your face once again.

[delulustateofmind]

Love

SatoSugu x Reader Blurb

TW: Angst. No Comfort

WC: 2k

a/n: Just a thought. Might write a full-fledged fic at some point. Two angsty fics in one weekend? Man, I need to touch grass.

It began subtly, with a sense of stillness, like a candle flickering before it goes out, its warmth not so much extinguished as quietly abandoned.

The words you once shared, rich with meaning, now sounded like echoes in an empty room. Touches that once felt familiar began to feel... unfamiliar. The silence, once comforting, now grew awkward. The spaces between you widened, unnoticed at first, until they stretched so far apart that the distance slipped right through your fingers. 

A quiet mourning settled in—a grief not loud or dramatic but heavy, like a book once beloved now gathering dust on a shelf. This was what it felt like to fall out of love.

You sat there, resting against the countertop, waiting for the water to boil in the kettle. The soft hum of Suguru’s voice in the shower drifted down the hall, a gentle melody. He always loved to slow dance with you in the kitchen when you first moved in. Humming a tune as he would twirl you around in the kitchen. You used to love moments like that.

Satoru was at the dining table, papers spread out before him, focus etched into his forehead, his brows furrowed, dark-tinted glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. You remembered teasing him for how much he used to hate babysitting; now, he loved his students as if they were his own. 

You could recall how it felt to love them, but the feeling seemed to belong to someone else—a distant version of yourself, as if it had existed in another life. You stared off into the distance until Satoru’s teasing voice pulled you back.

“The water’s boiling, baby. You too busy thinking about our trip to your parents? Man, I’m so excited to see Mom—I mean, your mom. Well, she is practically our mom, right?” His playful voice faltered when you didn’t respond immediately. “Right?” he repeated.

You offered a soft smile, one that didn't reach your eyes before reaching for a mug from the cupboard. 

They weren’t bad partners—far from it. They were amazing, loyal, loving, and considerate. You had never felt more cherished. Despite their duties as the world’s strongest sorcerers, they always made time for you. Satoru brought back gifts from his travels, treats you used to love sharing with him. Suguru noticed the little things, stocking up on your favorite snacks, making you tea after a stressful day, pressing a kiss to your temple with a knowing smile. 

Your reverie shattered—quite literally—when the mug slipped from your grasp, splintering on the floor.

“Baby?” Satoru’s voice was sharp with concern as he rushed into the kitchen, finding you sinking to the floor, tears brimming in your eyes. “Oh, honey, I know it was part of a set, but we can get a new one. Are you hurt? Let me see your hands, please?”

He knelt before you, eyes wide and filled with worry as he took your trembling hands in his. The warmth of his touch, once so reassuring, now sent a wave of guilt coursing through you, making your tears spill over.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the apology spilling out in a broken mutter.

“Hey baby… honey bun…” Satoru continued, one of his hands drifting to your cheek to pull your face up so your eyes met his. The concern etched into his features clashed with the forced softness in his voice. “It’s just a cup… Is the trip stressing you out? You know we love seeing your parents, right? They’re like ours, but way better... if you want, we can postpone it. We can set the tickets for a later date.” His voice was so gentle, stripped of the teasing lilt he so often carried.

The sight of him like this—the cracks forming in his confident facade—only made it worse.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed out in a sob, your body trembling. The words came from somewhere deep, somewhere raw and exposed. “I can’t…I can’t do this anymore. I want... I want to break up.”

You could almost hear another shatter, louder than the mug. It was the sound of something precious fracturing beyond repair. You met his eyes—the once bright blue eyes that resembled the ocean on a summer’s day, that once mirrored the clear sky. Now, they seemed dull, storm-clouded, as if the life had been siphoned from them in an instant.

“What?” His voice cracked, disbelief painted on his face, twisting into desperation. “Honeybun… it’s just a... we can postpone the trip! We can tell Suguru right now… he’ll be a bit disappointed, but he’ll understand… We can fix this. We can fix us.”

Satoru’s breathing became shallow, each inhale a ragged attempt to hold onto something slipping away. His fingers tightened slightly around yours, as if trying to anchor himself—or perhaps, to keep you from drifting further.

The room felt too small, too silent. The only sound was the erratic thumping of your heart and the soft patter of your tears hitting the floor. Between you lay the shattered remains of the mug, glinting under the harsh kitchen light. Was the room always this dim?

You heard the padded footsteps of Suguru entering the kitchen, droplets of water trailing behind him. His honeyed, melodic voice was tinged with concern and confusion. 

“Everything alright?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over the scene—Satoru on the floor beside you, his face stricken with panic, and you, a trembling mess cradling the broken pieces of what once was whole.

“We have to unpack,” Satoru said in between breaths, hurriedly rushing toward the backpack on the dining room chair. “I’ll call your mother... everything’s fine... everything’s fine.” He gasped between words that came out broken, tears now brimming in his eyes.

Suguru grabbed him by the shoulder, anchoring him. His violet eyes scanned his love, searching for answers. 

“Satoru…” Suguru began.

You spoke up first. “I want to break up.” The words came out meekly, as if you were speaking through someone else’s voice, a stranger in your own skin.

The calm and collected Suguru—the smooth-talking Suguru—was now silent. He stared at the floor, unable to meet your eyes as the weight of your words settled around him.

“I’m sorry... I just... I don’t love you both anymore.”

It was as if those final words made Satoru panic more. His gaze flicked down to the small ring box that had fallen to the floor from his bag. The shiny blue box with a silver ribbon.  

Every breath you took felt like it took more effort than the last, as though the reality of what you were doing was a slow, painful suffocation you couldn’t escape.

You shifted your gaze to look at Satoru, whose eyes were wide, still full of disbelief, and yet there was something darker in them now—something raw. His breath came in shallow bursts, like he couldn’t quite catch up with the truth, like he was trying to find something to hold onto before it all slipped away. He wasn’t ready for this. And maybe, deep down, you weren’t either.

Suguru’s silence was worse than Satoru’s desperate words. Suguru, always the calm one, the steady anchor between you three, stood frozen. His eyes moved from you to Satoru, as if looking for the words, for some kind of lifeline he could throw into the drowning space between you. But there was nothing. The room had already become too heavy, the space between you all too wide.

Satoru’s voice cracked again, desperate, pleading. "We can fix this," he choked out, his hands shaking as they reached for you. "I swear to you, we can fix it… I'll do anything. Please don't say that. Please." His knees hit the floor with a muffled thud as he fell to his knees, his hands grasping for yours like a lifeline, but you could feel the way his grip trembled, how the pressure wasn’t comforting anymore. It wasn’t love, or at least not the kind you recognized anymore. 

You pulled your hand away slowly, as if his touch burned, as if his touch itself was a reminder of something that was slipping away—of a love you couldn't hold onto, no matter how tightly you tried. The absence of his warmth seemed to create a coldness inside you that you couldn’t ignore, couldn’t push away. "I don’t... I don’t know if I can anymore, Satoru," you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, heavy and hoarse.

Satoru stood abruptly, his knees knocking against the floor as he scrambled to his feet, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. But the tears, those damned tears, they refused to stay hidden. They gathered in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over. “Don’t do this,” he pleaded, his voice breaking on the edges of each word. “I—I don’t understand. What do you want from me? Just tell me what I did wrong. Please… I’ll change. I’ll be anything you need. Anything. Just don’t leave me. Don’t leave us.” His voice cracked on the last word, a fissure in the facade he always wore so confidently.

You sat there, frozen, unable to look at him. At them. The love, the passion, the certainty of your connection—it was all still there, somewhere. But it felt so far away, like it belonged to someone else—a version of you who wasn’t sitting in this kitchen, watching everything slip away. "I just… I don’t think I can do this anymore. It’s not fair to you both." You let out a shaky breath, trying to hold onto the clarity in your words even though it felt like they were slipping from your grasp the more you spoke them.

The truth of it crushed you. How could you be the one to pull away when they both needed you? How could you betray the love they had shown you, the life you had built together, just because something inside you was empty? But it was true. The love that had once seemed so full and unbreakable had worn thin, stretched too far to the point where it no longer made sense to keep pretending. The band had finally snapped.

Satoru’s face crumpled, his lips trembling as he shook his head, as though the words you’d spoken didn’t quite reach him. “Please,” he begged, voice small and broken. “You’re our family. You are family. I don’t care what’s changed... We can fix this. We can work through it. Together. I’ll do anything. Anything, just—don’t leave us. Don’t leave me.”

Suguru stepped forward then, his silence heavier than ever before, his gaze unreadable. He moved as though to reach you, but he hesitated—just for a moment, as though unsure whether touching you would make it worse. But then his voice, soft and gentle, cut through the tension. “Don’t go,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours. “Please” Suguru was never one to beg. To plead. 

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but it wasn’t just for the love that was fading, for the love that you couldn’t bring yourself to hold onto. It was for them, for how badly they wanted this, how much they needed you to stay. It felt like an impossible weight pressing on your chest. Your hands trembled at your sides as you tried to steady your breath, but it was as if the room itself was spinning. 

"I don't know how to fix this," you whispered, more to yourself than to either of them. “I’m sorry”