#on the back of the couch and back legs on the couch pillows while wedged between us

[andromedasummer]

fun fact abt opal: she is the most jealous creature i have ever known in my life. no other cat could beat the power of her jealousy. no one could. i cant pet the dog in her presence because if/when i turn to her to give affection she immediately begins biting my arm/hand before launching herself at the dog. she will sit in the middle of the porch when my mother and father are outside sitting in their outdoor chairs so that jasper (the dog) cannot get near my parents. she is content to do this for hours if it means shes closer to them and he cant cuddle them.

a couple of weeks ago my best friend @apricot-flyer came over. opal has known my friend for 8 years. shes routinely come over at least once a month to stay a night since when we were in highschool. when she came over that day we hugged tightly and for a while (i had a rough week) in full view of opal. who proceeded to sit in the corner of the livingroom and watch us intently for an hour. i later went to lead my friend upstairs so she could drop off her bags. it took her a minute to come up after me, because opal had bolted halfway up there and sat in the middle of the stairs, blocking my friends way while staring at her with malicious intent, challenging her to try follow me up. it was only after 30-45 seconds of silent staring that opal relented and let my friend upstairs, and opal still had to be the one to enter my bedroom first and spent a solid few minutes trilling and rubbing on me before allowing me to spend time with my friend.

[homishguide]

How To Use A Wedge Pillow For Lower Back Pain

Simple Explain in 2023

Using a wedge pillow for lower back pain can be a great way to find relief. Wedge pillows support the lower back and help keep the spine in alignment while sleeping.

They can be used in various ways, such as placing it under the knees to reduce pressure on the lower back, tucking it under the neck when sleeping on the back, or placing it under the lower back when sleeping on the side.

The wedge shape of the pillow helps to keep the spine in a neutral position and can help to reduce strain on the muscles and joints in the lower back.

Additionally, they allow for the head and neck to be elevated, which can help to reduce tension and stiffness in the neck, shoulders, and upper back as well.

When using a wedge pillow for lower back pain, it's important to ensure that it is providing adequate support and to adjust the pillow as needed to ensure proper alignment of the spine.

Read More: https://homishguide.com/how-to-use-a-wedge-pillow-for-lower-back-pain

[moonncoffee]

Fun time Backstage - Louis Tomlinson

sooo I’m a bit depressed and I wanna read some Louis Tomlinson fic, so why not write one 🤷🏼‍♀️

Summery: watching Louis perform on stage makes you eager to do something special for him… ENJOY!!

Louis tomlinson x reader

WARNINGS: male receiving oral, cursing, do not read if you are under 18!!

You were standing where you always stood the past few nights watching Louis on stage, he always came alive out there. Watching him from the sidelines was always one of your favourite things to do, every now and then he’d look over and send a wink your way. Tonight was no different, when he jumped down to the fans like always they had grabbed at him and touched him. It was a thrill, you thought he was crazy sometimes for doing this but you knew he was safe and loved being close and trusted his fans. This night however things went a bit far and they ended up ripping his shirt practically off him, it didn’t stop him from doing the thing he loved the most, entertaining. He finished up the set shirtless and looking like an absolute god running around the stage singing his heart out. You couldn’t shake the dirty images that were running through your head, desperate to get him alone.

Louis came running off the stage, sweat clinging his once perfectly styled hair to his face and neck. Y/n didn’t even give him a chance to say much before she was dragging him down the long hallway to the room with his name on it. Once pushing him inside his dressing room y/n turned to lock the door before turning around to Louis “what’s gotten into you babe” he said with a smirk and the pupils in his eyes dilating. Y/n started to walk towards Louis, “nothing… yet” Louis let out audible groan, he knew he was done for. “You just looked so sexy out there, doing your thing” y/n is now standing in front of Louis. kissing his cheek and down his neck, paying special attention to that spot that makes him weak in his knees. Y/n comes back to leave a few kisses on his lips and running your lips across the scruff of his few day old beard. Starting to move down his neck to his chest feeling his heart starting to beat faster in anticipation, over his tattoos and past his nipples. Every now and then giving little bites to his chest, he let out groans watching you take your time.

Y/n got down on her knees in front of Louis, she was still leaving a trail of kisses over his stomach and down to his hips. Louis letting out little gasp when you finally got to the spot above his cock, giving his cock a kiss through his pants. Luck was on their side tonight as he was just wearing trousers and didn’t have to worry about buttons and belts. Pulling his trousers down to his ankle leaving him in his boxers.

Y/n slipped her hand under the band of his boxers, he was already heavy and hard in her hand. The shock of excited electricity that she felt running through her body. With one hand on the back of his thigh and the other hand moving up and down his cock, making sure he was ready . Y/n looked up at Louis as she ran her tongue up the underside of his cock. You could feel his legs start to shake “babe we gotta move this to a couch” he wines out. You both moved to right of the room where the leather couch was sitting up against the wall. Louis sat down and spread his legs while y/n wedge herself between them. “Here babe, for your knees” Louis passes one of the couch pillows to put under her knees. Always caring and making sure she was comfort came first, also always wanting her to come first but he made a mental note for later when they get to the hotel to give her something special too.

Once you both were comfortable and situated, you got right back to work. With one hand on the base of his cock working him, leaning forward to place your lips around the tip. Letting out a moan once he was in your mouth, sending pleasure waves through Louis body. He knew how much you also got off by pleasuring him, having admitted it early on in your relationship, it drove him crazy thinking about how wet you could be right now. As y/n was bobbing her head up and down his cock, Louis wrapped his hands through y/n hair creating a makeshift ponytail. Occasionally pushing your mouth down as he lifted his hips up to meet your mouth, he was letting out little moans and that was music to your ears. “Ah fuck babe, you’re such a good girl taking me, making me feel so fucking good” he said so softly, his accent getting thicker the closer he was

You could still hear people walking past the door and talking loudly, you knew this was gonna have to be a quickie and hope that no one will interrupt. Moving quicker and gripping the base of cock, moving your hand down to cradle his balls in your hand. His grip on your hair was getting tighter, you could tell he was close. You started sucking harder around the tip and making sure to use your tongue before taking him to the back of your throat. It was then he let the loudest of moans the whole night, if anyone was still standing outside the door they’d for sure know what was going on in here.

As he came in your mouth he was gasping and moaning “fuck fuck fuck babe” his thigh started to shake a bit. Spilling everything he had into your mouth, once he was down from his high you finally took your mouth off him and showed him the cum on your tongue before swallowing “god babe the things you do to me” he said while panting for air. Y/n just giggled and admired how beautiful he looked post orgasm.

Louis reached down to pull you up onto his lap, bringing your head to his and giving you a kiss. It started as soft loving kiss but soon our tongues started to fight for dominance neither, as the kiss started to get more passionate y/n started to grind down on his lap, wanting her own bit of pleasure, Until someone started to bang on the door. “Uh I didn’t want to interrupt you guys but everyone’s packed up and ready for the bus” a voice came out from the other side of the door, a member of his crew stated. “We will be out in a minute” Louis tried to say calmly but his voice came out a bit dry. You both turned to each other resting your foreheads against each other, letting out a laugh. “To be continued later?” Y/n said as she let out in a breath “the second we get alone I’m gonna make you feel amazing baby, I promise” Louis said before leaning in and grabbing the back of her head to give her a loving kiss.

He tucked himself back into his boxers and pulled up his pants as y/n was over by the mirror fixing her hair and makeup. He stood there admiring her, not knowing what he’d do without her

————

the end! Ahh I hope y’all like it, positive feedback or really any would be appreciated as I’ve only written a few things and this is my first smut! There’s probably some errors here and there but I’m not a professional writer so that’s expected.

[sheerfreesia007]

Tickled Confessions

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Word count: 1,759

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: Your relationship with Jisung has morphed into a sweet easy love that you think is only one sided. What happens when he confesses in one of the most shocking ways to you?

You plop down onto the couch in Jisung and Minho’s apartment as Jisung walks around the other side of the couch talking about an anime that he wants you to start watching with him since Minho isn’t interested in it. Nodding your head you lay out on the couch and Jisung looks down at your legs before shaking his head at you and flopping down heavily on top of you causing you groan out loudly while he giggles at your theatrics.

“Why are you so heavy?” you grumble out as he begins to twist and turn causing you to grunt softly at his movement, until he’s wedged himself between your legs with his head resting on your stomach while his arms wrapped lazily around your waist and over your hips. He reached over your body to grab the remote from the coffee table before settling back on top of you heavily as your breath escapes your body in a low hiss.

“You love it.” he teased  softly just before he nuzzled his face into your covered stomach making you squeal softly in surprise feeling your stomach muscles twitch with how ticklish you are. Jisung chuckles softly before nipping your stomach through your shirt and turning his head to stare at the television as he pulls up the anime.

The two of you fall into a quiet comfort as you both lay on the couch watching the anime. You have to admit that it’s an entertaining show and you can’t help diving into it so easily and becoming immersed in it. But just as it’s starting to pick up in the storyline Jisung starts to fidget distracting you from the show slightly. You notice it idly as he shifts in his place while rubbing his cheek against your stomach and your muscles tense in preparation of being tickled. He was known to try and be cute and cuddly but then attack you with tickles so you were trying to prepare yourself.

“Stop tensing, you turn into a hard pillow then.” he grumbles out to you and huffs at him as you try to relax.

“Stop fidgeting.” you scold him softly as your hands come to rest against his shoulder blades. 

Your fingers trace along the indentation of his shoulder bones through his skin and hear him let out a loud calming breath. You continue to trace your fingers along his back trying to soothe him as you go back to focusing on the anime. Jisung’s body grows heavier on you and you feel his breathing start to even out as you realize that he’s fallen asleep on you. You grow distracted with his sleeping form as you stare down at him and admire how cute he looks when he’s asleep.

You and Jisung had been friends for a few years at this point and your relationship had been like the slow ebb and flow of the ocean waves, always constant in your affection and adoration of him but the intensity would change depending on his schedule. When he was not on tour or super busy with his schedule it was like the crashing of the waves on the shore, powerful and would almost knock you off your feet. And when he was on tour and away from months at a time with his hectic busy life it was like when the waves pulled away from the shore, just a distant memory of your affection for him always there but distant leaving a lingering feeling within your body. 

Your relationship with him was something that had become almost second nature for you, it was easy because the two of you made it easy for each other. There was no expectation or pressure on your relationship; it was laid back and almost snuck up on you, at least your love for him had. 

You hadn’t realized that you were falling in love with him until the last time they had gone on tour overseas. The both of you had kept in touch with each other almost constantly this time around since it had felt like you both were missing the other more. He had surprised one night with purchasing a flight ticket for you to come and visit him for a few days on one of their stops on tour, you had eagerly packed and gotten on that plane.

When you had landed and made it out of baggage claim he was standing there at the doors leading out to the pick up area holding a dorky sign that read ‘Stray Kids #1 Fan’ with a bunch of multicolored hearts drawn around the whole sign and his beaming smile that nearly blinded you. It was then when you felt your heart swell with a love so big you couldn’t deny anymore that was when you knew that your heart had gripped onto him and refused to let him go.

You had thought at first that it would be awkward to be in love with him since you didn’t believe he felt the same but surprisingly it was just as easy as your friendship. The two of you were already close and touchy as friends but now it was just an added feature that your heart would beat a certain rhythm when you were with him. It was an easy quiet love that just grew and grew within you until it became a part of your entire being. Sighing softly you smiled down at him as your eyes danced around his peaceful face.

“I can feel you staring.” he mumbled sleepily and you scoffed softly before turning your head away from him and back to the television. He whined softly as he buried his face in your stomach and rubbed it back and forth to gather your attention once more. “Don’t stop.” he whined and you chuckled at his silly antics.

“Quiet, I’m trying to watch this anime.” you cooed at him softly as you kept your face turned to the television. Jisung whined loudly this time as he buried his face in your stomach again nuzzling into your shirt and the muscles behind it trying to get you to pay attention to him. You flinched at his movement and nearly came straight off the couch when you felt his fingers ghost against your sides. The two of you held still there for a moment in the silence before you spoke up.

“Don’t.” you warned softly right before Jisung dug his fingers into your sides and began to tickle you hurriedly. You twisted and turned trying your hardest to get away from the offending appendages of the man on top of you as you gasped and shrieked. Finally you managed to grab onto his own sides and he snapped his head up to stare at you with wide eyes before you smirked at him delighted. “Payback Sungie.” You cooed at him and began to tickle him back. 

His body bowed and snapped on itself trying to get away from you as he screamed with laughter. You laughed along with him while flipping him onto his back on the couch to gaze down at him as your fingers continued to lightly dig into his sides until he was gasping for air. You beamed adoringly down at him as his eyes squeezed close and his mouth dropped open in happy unabashed laughter while his body twisted underneath you. 

As you continued your assault on the poor man beneath you you didn’t hear the front door opening over Jisung’s screaming laughter or see the man who entered the apartment silently to stare at the two of you with a soft smirk on his face. His body nearly snapped in half when your fingers dug into the skin right about his hip bones and you smirked down at him as you dug your knees into the couch trying to keep him underneath you.

“Please!” Jisung suddenly cried out breathlessly and you grinned wickedly down at him as your eyes watched him avidly with happiness shining through your irises. “Please, no more!” he gasped out as his head fell back against the couch cushions while he pressed his hips up against yours trying to dislodge you from him. You leant down over him to hover above his face as you cooed softly at him teasingly while slowing your fingers movements.

“What’s the magic word?” you asked teasingly before digging your fingers into his sides once more causing him to bow his body underneath you as he gasped out loudly. His eyelids were at half mast as he stared at you with love filled eyes and you sucked in a harsh breath when you saw something shift within them.

“I love you!” he gasped out and you felt your heart explode inside your chest as warmth filled you instantly at his confession. Your fingers immediately stopped tickling him and you hovered over him panting slightly as your eyes darted around his face as he gasped for air beneath you. His eyes stayed locked with yours and the two of you just took in the moment before Jisung began to shift with uncertainty. You knew his anxiety was starting to skyrocket within him and you immediately leant down and pressed your lips against his in a sweet soothing kiss that caused him to whimper softly in surprise as his lips chased yours when you pulled away slightly.

“Love you too.” you whispered to him sweetly and his eyes slowly and almost lazily opened to shine at you. It was quiet for a moment as you both basked in the loving confessions shared between the two of you before it was rudely interrupted.

“Ugh, disgusting!” came the rough voice of Minho as he gagged, causing you and Jisung to whip your heads over to stare at him as he sneered at the two of you playfully. You nearly fell on top of Jisung in your haste to get off the couch and walk over to Minho who watched with amused eyes while Jisung steadied you with a soft pout on his face as you stood up. You noticed the grocery bags at his feet and quickly began to walk over to him to help but Jisung grabbed your wrist before tugging you back to him. He was already standing from the couch and easily caught you in his arms before tilting your head up to him and pressing another sweet kiss to your lips while Minho gagged again from behind the two of you as you chuckled softly into the kiss.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken

[toxicanonymity]

Joel fucks/fingers/dry humps/etc. reader under a blanket during movie night in Jackson. I don’t care what they do as long as Joel comes. I like thinking about Joel coming 😈

Movie night (in public)

850 | Joel x f!Reader

you're in luck, this has been on my mind. we can pick up after she gets him all horny before the movie in Jackson. masterlist

WARNINGS: 18+ HJ, sex, and cockwarming in public, mild dubcon, cum eating

--------------------------------------+++

You and Joel go home for a quickie before the outdoor movie night. He has you pinned on the couch with your hand down his pants when you hear a knock at the front door, then it unlocks. You scoot out from under Joel to sit upright while he buckles his belt and Tommy yells, "Y’all comin’?”

“Ehhh I dunno about tonight. This one’s tired,” Joel says and squeezes your knee affectionately. There’s a good reason he’s not standing up.

“Bring a blanket,” Tommy says. “Joel’s a good pillow, nice and soft.”

“Hey now,” Joel says. Tommy just stands there waiting. Joel sighs. “Alright, grab a blanket, let's go.”

You go get a quilt and a big blanket. When you come back down in a flowy dress, the look on Joel’s face says he knows exactly why. He goes to the bathroom before y'all leave and comes out without a belt.

You set up in the darkest corner of the lawn behind everyone else. Joel sits on the quilt wiith his knees bent and you get in between them, resting your head back on his chest with the blanket draped over both of you while people continue to arrive to the event. He wraps his arms around you, and scoots his hard-on into you. He gathers the skirt of your dress out of the way and strokes your inner thigh. When he reaches your outer lips he growls “bad girl” into your neck, although he's not surprised you skipped the panties. Two thick fingers drag along your dripping seam and his hardness swells into you.

He nibbles at your neck and his fingers circle your clit. He could get you off this way and no one would know, but what you really want is his cock. You want him to come in public. It turns you on so much to think about, and he’s never let you do it. It’s always him making you come while he stays totally composed and in control.

You reach back and wedge a hand between your bodies, palming him over his jeans. He breathes deeply and doesn’t stop you. You unbutton his jeans. Then you reach outside the blanket for his backpack and put it behind him like a pillow. “I’m tired, can I Iay on you?”

“Sure, baby.”

You get on your side in the crook of his arm with your head on his shoulder, your hand on his chest, and hook your leg over his closest leg. Then your hand drifts down under the blanket, unzips him, and reaches in to relieve his stiff, aching cock. "Tengo ganas," (I want it) you whisper as you stroke him. He clenches his jaw and looks conflicted.

"I don't think so, baby."

You slowly rotate yourself on top of him anyway. His hard cock is between his shirt and yours, below your belly button. "No one's watching," you whisper.

You move your dress and slowly get higher up on him, straddling him in a koala hug and you throb against him. He inhales sharply when his cock feels your dripping seam.

"Solamente la punta" (just the tip) you beg barely audibly as you drag yourself along his member.

"Kinda cold. Wanna sit still?"

You've done this before and know what he means. You can't pass up the chance to have him inside you.

You drag your wet pussy up his cock again then nestle it at your entrance. He lifts his hips into you and you begin to sink onto him, managing not to gasp at the delicious stretch. His big hands brace on your hips and help you down. He lifts his hips again, pulls you down, and you have to suppress a moan as he bottoms out.

He grunts ever so softly. "Don't move," he says.

You lie there with him inside you, resting your head in the crook of his neck, while he watches the movie. Your hips want to move, but you manage to stay still.

He occasionally twitches and barely moves his hips. You want to get him off and try to slide off him, but his hands still you and he says "where you goin'?" You stay.

When his twitching becomes more frequent, he finally lets you slide off his cock. You get back on your side, bring your leg over his, rest your head on his chest, and stroke him. You keep his cock as close to his body as possible to not make it obvious. It doesn't take long before he reaches down and lifts up his shirt. He takes a deep breath, then pulses in your hand. There's a barely audible grunt, but it's the quietest you've ever heard him.

He buries his mouth in the crown of your head as he finishes coming onto his lower belly and your fist, then his whole body relaxes. You lick his cum off your hand then use two fingers to gather as much of it as you can off his skin. You swallow that, too. He kisses you on the head and you actually do fall asleep as you watch the rest of the movie.

-

If you like this one I recommend Speakeasy and Picnic Table.

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione

[worstghost]

nsfw LOGAN thoughts because I saw deadpool and wolverine and it's all I can think about 🫶🫶🫶

f!reader, a little pinch of dark!Logan, this is all over the place my bad

♡You're obviously significantly younger than Logan- and he kinda loves it. Loves the idea of a little corruption, starring in a few of your 'firsts'.

♡Teaching you how to ride him, letting you get your rhythm, it's cute, but the soft creak of the bed while you shyly rock your hips on top of him isn't enough. You're flustered, embarrassed that you haven't done this before, trying so hard to get a reaction out of him while he holds your hips and looks up at you. If you look sad enough and ask sweetly enough, he'll brace himself against the bed and tell you to hold tight, encouraging you to lean back against his bent knees while he takes over. This is what he wanted of course, he loves when you let him give you what you so desperately want but can't get.

♡He has you holding on for dear life by the end of your orgasm, digging your nails into his shoulders, gasping when he catches one of your bouncing tits between his lips and sucks. You gush against him, legs quivering from being stuck in one position, and you beg him to finish inside you. He can't deny you, flushing hot listening to you whine-

'Please, please, Logan, oh please...'

♡He should make you beg more, fuck you into the bed until you're sobbing, begging him to fill you up, crying for him to just give it to you- his mind blanks as he comes, lifting you with his own hips in a few brutal strokes as his hands shred the bedsheets around him in place of your soft skin.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡You're on your knees on a pillow, eye level with his half hard dick and it's too late to back out now- you've given a blow job before, you assure him, this isn't new. But the size... the need to impress him is. You swallow hard avoiding his eyes as you trail fingers up his hips, watching his stomach flex. He's smiling at you, nicer than usual, and reaches a hand out to cup your chin, squeezing your mouth open by your cheeks.

'You can do it, baby. I know you can.'

♡You nod along and allow him to hook a finger into your lips and open you wider, sliding the tip against your tongue. If you weren't already drooling, the feeling of him hardening in your mouth helps it along. Every little huff and grunt you get from him swells in your chest and you can't help but feel proud, taking him deeper until he touches the back of your throat. You swallow around him, squeezing a tear from your eye as you adjust. That gets him- he groans and you feel it reverberate through your body as he swipes the wetness from your cheeks. You learn a lot that night- about sucking dick and about what he likes.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡He couldn't help himself, the second you're back from dinner he has you against the apartment door, pushing your little sundress up and sinking to his knees in front of you.

♡You had teased him the whole night, subtly pressing your little wedged heels against his thigh, then his crotch under the table- making conversation with Vanessa and Wade like you weren't such a tease. That's what he called you, pressing his nose against the seam of your panties and inhaling- holding you against the door by your thigh swung over his shoulder.

'Fucking tease- bet you won't do it again after this...'

♡You definitely will.

♡Your legs are shaking, trying to cover your mouth and the sounds coming out of it in case your neighbors wanted to be nosy. Logan didn't even bother to undress you, shoving your panties to the side and pressing two thick fingers inside while he tongues your clit. You had him so riled up, smelling you the whole night, catching your glances- in public. The thought makes him groan and he needs to taste more.

♡He grips your thighs and lifts you with him as you yelp and wrap your arms around his head- accidentally giving him access to your throat which he greedily sucks and bites at before tossing you on the couch.

♡You didn't know you could fold this way, he has you nearly bent in half, tight grip on one ankle and the other knee, devouring you like he'll never get another chance- your underwear long shredded by now. You whimper against your hand, squeezing his fingers so tight if he wasn't made of metal you're sure they'd snap. You're so close, chanting his name, you can feel the build up in your belly-

♡And he stops- with incredible restraint only a man of his age could muster, he stops, gently dropping your legs and wiping his chin, watching you. You sob, legs falling open as he just smiles at you, all pretty and innocent.

♡He gets up and starts moving toward the bedroom, unbuttoning his worn flannel as he goes, waiting for you to uncover your face and beg just the way he likes. Logan can't say no to you, but he can definitely hold out a little.

[bahrtofane]

helloo can we have dialogue 9, trope 20 with tchouameni pleasee🫂

- "Stay, please?" - two idiots pinning and not realizing the other is just as in love

word count - 700+

watch it - sleepy eepy silly lovers

I luv him sm yall 

You get a call at 3 in the morning. At first you think it's an alarm so you slap your phone a few times before fumbling around for your charger, sticking your face in your pillow and drifting away. 

Then you get another call, and this time you clock that it's not an alarm but your dearest friend who's decided blowing up your phone is much better than letting you get any rest. It's Friday and you'll give him a pass. (Aurélien gets any and every pass in your book but he doesn't need to know all that).

You answer, of course you do. Voice hoarse as you sit up, slouching against your pillow while you rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“Mind if you open the door.” he mumbles after a rushed greeting. 

You squint,”what?”

“Your door, can you come and open it.” he repeats again. Slower. 

“Where are you?” you yawn.

“Outside, I got you things from Germany and they're really perishable and supposed to be refrigerated and I won't be able to so I thought I'd stop by. Sorry it's so late.” he breathes into his phone.

“No it's okay,” you stumble out of your bed and feed for your slippers in the dark, padding around your apartment phone wedged between your shoulder and your ear. 

He stays on the line, even if he's a few feet away. Not hanging up til he’s greeted by a very puffy eyed you in your pjs still fighting sleep. 

He thinks you're beautiful like this. Warm and soft, exactly how you make him feel. In full honesty he could have kept the assortment of treats with him. His hotel probably has a mini fridge. But he wanted to see you. He knows both of you will get busy again. He'd rather not waste any chances. So here he is, standing in your door frame, sleek black carry-on suitcase in hand and a bag just for you in the other.

You use him inside, flicking on a light and taking his baggage. He tries to fight you but you only whine, wheeling it away from him and up against the wall.

“Tea?” you croak.

He giggles, “no it's okay,” he hands you the tote,” this is for you, i should get going.”

“No wait,” you rub your eyes, “it's late. Stay please?”

His resolve soon crumbles as you take him by the hand, leading him further into your home. To you its second nature. Not a second thought as you dig in your closet for a spare pair of slipper. 

“I have pjs for you somewhere, “ you mumble. 

“No no,” he waves his hands,”its okay i have my own.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

You hum, padding along to get your room in order.

When you come back you see him in his pjs trying to settled on your couch and you frown, “no no you're sleeping in a proper bed get up.”

“It's your house.”

“And?”

“No i'll take the couch you have one bed i can-”

You shut him up with a tug to his sleeve, dragging him to your room. You turn your lamp on and slide in, motioning for him to follow. Friends share beds right? You would have offered if it wasn't him, and he wouldn't have accepted if it wasn't you. 

Maybe it's due to it being so late, to the jet lag, to you just being woken up. Or maybe it's because he feels so safe with you, so at home. And you feel so comfortable, and it feels so right when he slides in next to you, curling his hand around his face and resting his head against your pillow.

You've dreamt about this a million times. But you're too drowsy to be able to truly take it in. 

It's okay, the way Aurélien stares at you wide eyed admiring you makes up for it. He feels too excited to sleep but forces his eyes shut, turning the other way, and taking a deep breath to calm down.

You don't know this now but come morning you'll be pressed up against each other legs tangled and far too embarrassed to bring anything up. You hope he comes by again, maybe at a more reasonable hour next time so you can properly remember it. 

[enjoythesilentworld]

Wille's Month - Riding

day 9 @youngroyals-events xx thank you for all you do.

“You’re sure you don’t want a ride from me instead?”

Wille really enjoys his morning. 

rating: T (cw implied sexual content... duh)

read below the cut or on ao3.

A very loud beeping jolts Simon out of sleep. He scrunches his face and burrows further into the pillow, trying to drown out the sound. The warmth next to him shifts away and there’s a chill that runs down his back at the morning air on his newly exposed skin. Even worse, he’d been having a very nice dream, and was interrupted right before the good part. 

“Sorry, love.” Wille’s sweet voice reaches his ears, much more pleasant than the alarm which is now, thankfully, shut off. 

The sound reminds him that he can fix both problems quite easily. Not only is Wille perfectly warm, he was also the main star of Simon’s dream. He reaches out blindly, wrapping his arms around Wille’s waist and pulling him closer. Though he has yet to open his eyes, he knows Wille’s body just as well as his own and can easily find the soft skin of his neck to kiss. 

“I’ve got to get ready for work, my love,” Wille whispers, brushing curls out of Simon’s face, who shakes his head and latches his legs around Wille, as well. “Simon.” 

Grudgingly, he peeks his eyes open just a sliver to look up at Wille, who’s already smiling down at him with a loving gaze. “Get some more sleep,” he says, then begins to move away. And that simply won’t do, Simon has other plans. He lets Wille untangle himself from Simon’s koala-like grip, but reaches out for him again, catching him by the arm. Wille turns back and plants a soft kiss to the inner skin of Simon’s palm, then his forehead, before slipping away. As his beautiful boyfriend begins to clank around in the bathroom, Simon flops back onto the bed and thinks. He kicks the rest of the sheets off and poses himself just so, then he waits. 

When Wille re-enters the room, humming happily, he barely spares Simon a glance, already browsing the closet for an outfit. He’s a buzz of energy, flitting around the room excitedly. This was pretty typical for Wille, ever the morning person, but Simon knows today is special. Still, Simon also knows he’d really liked that dream, dammit. 

“Baby,” he purrs, rolling onto his side, “come here.” 

It’s as if he’s said nothing, though, because Wille turns around, holding up two ties and asks, “Which do you think is better?”

Simon tries not to look too exasperated. He’s laid himself all pretty on the bed and Wille is asking him about ties.

“The right one,” he says, then crawls forward on the bed. “Do you want my help?” 

Wille nods happily and strides forward, handing over the strip of silk. 

“Guess what today is?” Wille asks giddily, practically bouncing on the spot. 

“What’s today, baby?” he indulges, focused on looping the tie around Wille’s neck, being sure to caress the soft skin there as he goes. It’s one of his favorite spots. 

Wille grins wildly and doesn’t even flinch when Simon leans forward to press a lingering kiss on his jaw. “I’m riding the bus to work today.”

Ah, yes. With Wille’s renouncement of his title and officially stepping down from the throne, he was now, technically, a private citizen. Things had been tumultuous and crazy for a while with the press and the royal court, but he had recently received the affirmative that he no longer required security or private transport. Now, Wille was just Wille. He finally had the normal life he’d been hoping for, wishing for his whole life. When they’d gotten the news, Wille had collapsed into Simon’s arms on the couch and cried in relief. Simon had cried, too. Like that last little weight had been lifted, that last little wedge between them removed. 

So, when Wille had been hired for a new job soon after, he’d been ecstatic. He also had not stopped talking about how excited he was to ride the bus. Sure, they rode public transportation together all the time. This, Wille said, was different. It was an everyday, normal thing. Simon understood. In fact, he found it adorable, if not a little ridiculous, that Wille seemed more excited for the bus ride than the actual job. 

“You’re sure you don’t want a ride from me instead of taking the bus?” he teases, giggling softly when Wille makes an affronted noise. 

“Simon,” he pulls back.

“I know, I’m just joking. Unless,” he pauses, reaching out a hand to fiddle with Wille’s belt, “you’d like to ride me before you go?” 

Wille groans and, ever so slightly, leans into Simon’s touch. “You can’t…”

“Can’t what?” Simon asks innocently, tilting his head up from where he’s knelt on the bed before his boyfriend. He leans upwards and presses a kiss to the corner of Wille’s mouth.

“I’ve really got to go,” he mumbles, half lost in a sigh as Simon kisses along his neck, using the tie to pull him closer. Simon just hums in assent, then guides Wille further forward, coaxing him back into bed. He doesn’t get very far, though, because Wille manages to slip out of Simon’s grip again. 

“I love you,” he says, already grabbing shoes and heading towards the kitchen, “so much. And I promise the second I get home tonight I will be all yours.” 

Simon groans softly in slight frustration, but lets him go. Any remaining frustration is quickly dissipated when Wille sends him many happy selfies along his journey. One at the bus stop, one of the bus pulling up in the background, one with the actual bus driver – how he managed that one, Simon does not know – and a final one of him settled in his seat. He looks incredibly happy and proud, and Simon’s heart swells at the sight. It all works out because later that night, Wille returns with a ridiculous amount of stories about the ride to and from work, then happily follows through on his promise. 

[leilakisakabiri]

Afternoon Activities (Neymar Jr)

Summary: You and Neymar face off in a football match.

Warning(s): none, just fluff.

Word Count: [1814]

You squeal running away from Neymar as he chased after you, a pillow in hand, trying to hit you.

"Davi, stop her!" Neymar shouts at the little boy, watching as he runs towards you from the opposite direction.

"Davi, please, don't do this!" You yell dramatically as he runs to you with hands outstretched trying to catch you.

He stops running when he hears your words, letting you pass by him and down the hallway into the living room.

"Davi! What are you doing? We could have got her!"

"She said please!" Davi responds.

Your face hurts from smiling so much as you let out a loud iaugh.

What a sweet kid.

Neymar jokingly glares at you as you stick your tongue out at him, both of you facing each other on opposites sides of the couch.

"Just give in Y/N!" Neymar tries.

You shake your head vigorously,

"No way. I'd rather run a 10 miles than do that, and you know I hate running."

This whole thing had started after you complained about being bored. You had come over to Neymar's house in the afternoon, and after being there for two hours just sitting on his couch as he played Fifa you found yourself wanting to do something. He had tried to get you to play, but you wanted to go outside. It was summer in Paris and it was a beautiful sunny day.

Why waste it?

After your revelation, he decided the best thing for the both of you to do was to play a friendly game of football. You immediately shot down his suggestion, while you watched Davi who had been busy playing with his dinosaurs in the corner lift his head with joy once he heard what Neymar said, clapping his hands together in excitement.

You weren't too bad of a player, however, obviously, your talents were nothing compared to Neymar, him being a professional and all. However, it wasn't the aspect of losing you that made you not want to play, even though you did lose, a lot, in fact almost every single game. It was the fact that Neymar did not hold back. He got so into the game, and once his competitiveness took over there was no stopping him. He would constantly play unfairly, by either tackling you to get the ball, or showboating simply to get you riled up.

The last time the both of you had played against each other, you had ended up with a nasty cut on your leg after he had shoved you and you landed rather ungracefully on a sprinkler wedged in the grass. Admittedly, you had started the brawl by pushing into him any chance you got, trying to distance him from the ball, but in the end, you got hurt and not him.

Since then you had been adamant about not playing with him, not wanting a repeat of last time.

"C'mon Y/N Please. I promise I won't do anything this time." He tried again.

"Your such a liar! You play so dirty! You always tackle me." You exclaimed.

He wiggled his eyes, a smirk on his face, "Shh bebe, don't say that in front of Davi. You're so wild."

You rolled your eyes for the hundredth time. This boy.

Before you could even finish your eye roll you felt someone slam into you, sending the both of you tumbling to the ground.

It took you about half a second after landing on the ground to realize Neymar had jumped over the couch and onto you.

What a bitch.

"Ugh ew! Get off." You whined trying to shove his body that was on top of yours away from you.

He laughed from above you,

"Oh I'm gross? I'm gross?" He questioned as he started to pepper your face with kisses and you squirmed underneath him, laughter escaping you.

"Ok fine maybe not gross. Now will you get up?"

Instead of getting up, you felt him snuggle closer to you, his warm hands wrapping around your waist as he laid his head on your chest.

"Mmm only if you play football with me."

"What are you 5?" You retorted, trying to keep up the act, but you found yourself running your hands through his hair as he laid on you.

You felt another body thud on top of yours, and you saw that Davi had joined your little huddle.

"I am!" he exclaimed proudly as he sat on top of Neymar, holding up 5 fingers.

"Don't do it for me. Do it for him." Neymar said.

"Please?" Davi spoke up.

You squinted your eyes, "Are you guys teaming up on me?"

The two of them just looked at you with blank stares.

You groaned, "Okay fine, now get up you’re cutting off my air flow."

You heard the boys cheer as they both stood up, letting you get up.

You had just stood up when you felt Neymar pull you into him, putting his arm around you as you walked to the backyard.

"I promise I'll go easy." He said.

You shook your head, looking up at him, "No way. Play your best."

You saw a grin adore his features as he squeezed your shoulders, "That's my girl."

You felt a warmth spread through your stomach as he said those words. No matter how much time you spent with Neymar he still made you blush like crazy with just the smallest things. He would always say the sweetest things in the most nonchalant ways like he wasn't even thinking twice about them, and you couldn't help but find it extremely endearing.

"Ok Davi, you ready?" You asked as you separated from Neymar, going to the middle of the makeshift field where Davi had already placed a ball.

Davi loved to watch you and Neymar play against each other, probably because it was the closest he got to seeing his dad on the field, and also because he loved watching you both playfully fight each other. He was supposed to be the referee but he never stopped Neymar from tackling you, or even ever gave out a foul.

He was clearly bias, but whatever.

"Ok, Go!" Davi shouted as both you and Neymar hit the ball at the same time, the ball stuck between the two of you.

Neymar got possession of the ball quickly and raced down the field. You mentally cursed yourself for letting it slip away, you had played enough times with him to begin to understand his mannerisms, and you were starting to be able to guess when he was faking and when he was actually going for it, yet you were distracted and let him take it away.

You chased after him, trying to stick your foot in front of his to get the ball back.

He expected your move and was quick to pull the ball back, passing around you.

He laughed, turning to look at you over his shoulder, "You have to be smarter than that amor."

You huffed, running towards the goal just as he prepared to shoot.

You got there just in time and dived, sending the ball flying out of bounds.

You saw Neymar's face fall as you saved it.

"Foul!" He called.

This little shit.

"Foul?" You screamed back looking at him in anger.

"Why is that foul? No way!"

“You touched the ball with your hand.” He argued.

“That’s because I’m the goalie!”

You both looked at Davi as he debated, "No foul!"

You cheered at his decision while Neymar hung his head, sad his son hadn't bought into his act. Clearly, there was no foul and you had just saved the goal, but Neymar's favorite pass time it seemed was annoying you, and he would do anything to achieve it.

Once the ball was back in play you raced forward, watching as Neymar charged towards you.

You had been practicing a few skills yourself, after you and your friend had stayed up late one night, wine drunk and daring each other to do random things, one of those being learning how to do a rainbow flick.

You watched intently as Neymar came closer, once he was close enough you surprised him by kicking the ball over his head, and bypassing him.

He stopped, shocked, and you used his surprise to your advantage as you ran across the field before kicking the ball into the net.

However, before you could celebrate your goal you felt a familiar body collide with yours.

This time you ended up on top, as Neymar took the brunt of the fall.

"Hey! Foul! I didn't even have ball anymore!" You shouted, sitting up when the world stopped spinning around you.

Neymar grabbed your hands, lacing them with his before pulling you down on top of him, "Been practicing hmm? Got tricks now?" he whispered his breath fanning across your face.

You felt your heartbeat accelerate at how close he was, suddenly very aware of the fact that you were straddling him, "I've got a lot of tricks."

You felt him inhale sharply, his smirk slipping away as his eyes sparkled with mischief, "Is that a promise?"

The moment was interrupted when you heard Davi running over,

"What is going on?" He asked, hands on his hips.

You held up your hands in surrender as you got off Neymar, "Don't look at me ref. Neymar is the one who decided to foul me."

Davi considered this for a moment before he finally nodded, "Ok. Free goal."

You grinned up at him, from your position on the grass, pulling his little body into a tight hug, "Holy shit, 2 goals for 1? I'll take it!"

Davi giggled against you, "Y/N, bad word." He exclaimed shaking his finger at you.

"Oops. Sorry I'm just on a high." You smiled.

"Let's just end the game here."

Neymar looked over at you, seemingly not pleased before he caved, "Ok Fine."

You stood up cheering, and dancing with Davi.

"YAY! I AM THE CHAMPION." you screamed, letting go of Davi before sending hand kisses to your imaginary fans.

"Yeah, yeah, don't let it get to your head." Neymar retorted coming up to stand next to you, amused by your antics.

You turned to look at him, eyebrow raised, "Oh what like you did?"

You watched as he let out a gasp, feigning hurt, "Ouch Y/N you wound me."

You rolled your eyes, patting his chest, "I'm sure you'll find someway to get over it."

"Now c'mon, you have to play Fifa with me so I can beat you in that too." You said, already walking back into the house, still on your high from winning.

He grinned at your retreating form,

"She definitely let it get to her head." He whispered to Davi as he led him towards the house.

"Heard that!" You shouted.

Both him and Davi let out giggles at your response and you found yourself smiling widely again as you walked back into the living room.

You could definitely get used to this.

[wheels-of-despair]

Baby Mine Pairing: Billy Knight x You Summary: Billy's had a hard day, so tonight, you're going to relax and watch one of his favorite movies together. Contains: Spoilers for Dumbo (1941), references to a bad childhood, cathartic crying, so much love it might make your heart burst. Words: 1.3k

"Hey… you okay?"

Billy doesn't answer, but one look at your poor boy is all it takes to determine that he's had a rough day. You stand and hold out your arms. He locks the front door and walks right into you. He rests his head on your shoulder, lets you wrap your arms around him, and heaves a sigh.

You hold him tight, with one hand on his back and the other in his hair, until he's ready to talk.

"Long day," he eventually gets out.

"Wanna tell me about it?"

"Nuh-uh," he mutters into your shoulder.

"Okay. How about this: You go take a nice hot shower and wash off today's unpleasantness, I'll make dinner, and then you can pick a movie for us to watch."

"Kay." He doesn't move right away, but you know he'll get there when he's ready.

Eventually, he peels himself off of you, kisses your forehead gently, and wanders toward the bathroom.

You get to work on dinner: something quick and comforting.

Billy comes out with reddened skin, as if he's scrubbed just a little too hard, and sits at the table silently while you finish up the food.

After a hot meal, you tell Billy to pick a movie while you change into pajamas. Your plans for the rest of the night are to cuddle on the couch, turn your brains off, and watch movies. You'd choose this over a night out every single time.

When you emerge from the bedroom in comfortable pants and a t-shirt, Billy is still standing by the DVD shelf.

"Pick one yet?"

He turns around and looks at you sheepishly, slowly holding out a familiar plastic case.

Dumbo.

You smile at him warmly. "Excellent choice, my love." You settle in on the couch while he fiddles with the DVD player.

You suppose Dumbo is his comfort movie, in a way. It's old and familiar and something that reminds him of a rare happy time in his childhood. You can see how he'd identify with the titular elephant. But you know the real reason he always comes back for Dumbo: Sometimes Billy just needs to cry.

His father had been one of those "I'll give you something to cry about" parents. (Rot in hell, Jack Knight.) It has taken a long time and a lot of love, but Billy understood that it was okay to cry now. Sometimes, he just needed a little help.

That's where Dumbo came in.

You'd been through this at least a hundred times. You'd prop pillows against the arm of the sofa and lie back. Billy would settle his body between your legs, rest his head on your stomach, and wedge his arms between your back and the gap left by the pillows in a hug. He wouldn't budge from this position for the next hour and four minutes.

Even if you were unable to see or hear the movie, you'd still know exactly what was happening, based on Billy's body language alone.

He'd nuzzle his head into you when the storks delivered the baby animals. If you had to hazard a guess, judging by his movements, you'd say the giraffe was probably his favorite.

He'd nod his head along to "Casey Junior" so subtly, you wonder if he thought you couldn't feel him. You were pressed together so tightly, you could feel him breathe, but you never said a word about it.

He'd huff impatiently through his nostrils when the stork made Mrs. Jumbo wait to open her bundle of joy.

His leg would jiggle in anticipation while she opened it, even from this odd position, but he stilled when Dumbo came into view.

He'd let out a low growl when the elephants made fun of the big-eared baby, and a silent laugh when Mrs. Jumbo shut them up and blocked them from view.

He'd flinch when the clowns appeared on screen. You knew he wasn't a big fan of clowns in general, but you suspect it was probably their noisy entrance more than their appearance that caused the reaction.

He'd relax into you during Dumbo's bath and playtime. You wished there was an entire movie's worth of cute moments between Dumbo and his mother. Why can't things be happy all the time?

He'd tense when the red-headed brat picked on the sweet baby elephant, and hold you tighter when the men with whips and ropes came for Mrs. Jumbo. He'd let out a shaky breath when it was over.

He'd sigh with adoration as Timothy Q. Mouse befriended Baby Dumbo, and smile when he scared the mean old elephants.

He'd watch solemnly as the elephant pyramid crashed and the gossipy grey creatures vowed to blackball poor little Dumbo.

He'd start crying the second Dumbo reached for his mother in her tiny elephant prison. You'd hold him tighter during the heartbreaking "Baby Mine" scene, and begin to rock slightly from side to side. If anyone had been watching you, they might not even pick up on the movement. But you knew your baby felt it.

You'd dry his cheeks with your t-shirt when the tears slowed, and he'd twist his head to plant a kiss on your stomach as thanks before returning his attention to the TV.

You could feel him lighten up when Dumbo and Timothy got giggly and started blowing bubbles.

"Pink elephants," you'd whisper when the first one formed.

"Pink elephants," he'd echo. You'd thought this part was creepy when you were a child, but it didn't seem to bother him a bit. You suppose Billy had experienced much scarier things than a few dancing cartoons. Although he'd seen it a thousand times, he always watched the scene with concentration, as if he thought maybe this time, he'd spot something he'd never seen before.

He'd sniffle and choke back a sob or two during Timothy's "suppose you was torn away from your mother" speech to the crows, and you'd stroke his hair until Dumbo's flight distracted him from his pain.

He'd hold his breath when Dumbo dropped the magic feather, and you could feel him chuckle each time Dumbo dive-bombed the clowns. A genuine laugh would bubble in his throat when Dumbo pelted the mean elephants with peanuts.

His eyes would begin to leak again when Dumbo flew down to his mother in their private train car.

When the movie ended, he'd take a moment to nuzzle his face into your shirt and give you one final squeeze.

"I love you," he'd mumble.

"I love you too, baby," you'd tell him. And then he'd get up to stretch his legs, and either put in another movie or turn the TV off. It was exactly the same, every time, and you were more than happy to go through this with him whenever he needed it.

"You sure you're okay with this again?" Billy asks from the end of the couch, reluctant to sink down onto you.

"Of course I am," you smile, holding out your arms as an invitation for him to join you. "I love this movie." What you really love is that he feels comfortable enough to share this emotional experience with you, but you don't feel the need to mention it.

Billy smiles and crawls onto you, wrapping his arms around your middle and resting his head in the same place he always does. You reach over to the coffee table and press play on the remote. He turns his head toward the TV and wiggles himself a little closer to you as the opening credits begin.

You brush the hair out of his beautiful eyes, and think to yourself...

You are so precious to me, sweet as can be, baby of mine.

[2btheanswertothequestion]

Hobie Brown can fall asleep anywhere.

This is something they all find out within weeks of knowing him. And it's not just anywhere, but also at any time and in any place, and even in any position. Be it in an alleyway at dusk, tires screeching and horns blaring nearby, or on a rooftop at dawn, the emerging sunrays prickling their eyes; be it while sitting or standing or perched against a wall, Hobie can and likely will fall asleep.

(And that is against the wall, by the way. Not on top of it – against it vertically, his spider powers keeping his feet and back stuck to the brick like a gargoyle.

Miles has only seen that particular position once, but it'll rent a space in his mind forever. Hobie had been completely silent and still, his slackened jaw and deep breaths the only hints of his unwakefulness.

It hadn't lasted long, a noise in the distance soon waking him up, his head snapping toward it as he blinked the bleariness from his eyes. Miles was as awed as he was annoyed with how impressive it looked.)

So, yes. They've all seen Hobie sleep, though never deeply or for long.

Until now.

They didn't notice it right away, because it started as subtly and silently as always. Also, they have a pretty good movie playing and several bowls of snacks to gorge on. That's why it takes a soft snore for them to realize Hobie is sprawled out on the couch behind them, fast asleep. He's too big to fit, his feet hanging out past the armrest and one arm dangling over the edge, his hand resting on the carpet. His mouth is wide open, drool pooling in the folds of the throw pillow next to his cheek, which is pressed against the patterned fabric – he's going to wake up with lines all over his face.

The three of them share an amused look; Pavitr giggles and Gwen coos, only slightly condescendingly. Then they turn back to the movie, intending to let Hobie sleep. None of them want to sit on the couch anyway, and the snores aren't loud enough to be a bother.

At least, not at first. At first, they're but gentle kitten snores mixed with the occasional grumble. But then the volume increases.

And increases.

And increases.

Soon, they may as well have a chainsaw felling trees behind them. They turn around again, incredulous. Hobie is as peaceful as when they last looked, the size of the drool puddle the only change. And, of course, the snoring. It rumbles, it roars, it rattles the windows.

One particularly loud snort has Pavitr guffawing; he smacks a hand to his mouth while Miles and Gwen shush him. Hobie remains undisturbed. Apparently, faint back alley noises wake him but loud laughter doesn't.

(Pav's laughter doesn't.)

They catch each other's eyes, crinkling at the corners, and come to a silent agreement. Hobie's thundering drowns out even the action scenes and it is way past midnight; they turn off the TV. Pavitr climbs up first, wedging himself between Hobie and the couch's backrest, sort of spooning Hobie from the side. Hobie doesn't react, so Gwen goes next. She plops on top of him, putting her head between his shoulder blades and gripping the sleeves of his t-shirt. Pavitr tangles their legs together and slings his arm over Gwen's back, connecting them like a weighted blanket around Hobie. They whisper and titter before settling.

Miles stays on the floor, scooting over to where Hobie's head rests. He curls up and leans against the couch, his and Hobie's faces inches apart, and holy cow. The noise. It sends tremors through him! Miles isn't like Hobie – he needs a semblance of quiet to rest. He can't possibly fall asleep like this.

He reaches for Hobie's hand on the carpet; grabs it. Hobie's fingers curl into Mile's palm. The nails are short ("better for fretting," Hobie once told him) and the pads are calloused.

Miles laces their fingers together and closes his eyes.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Twenty Six + Epilogue.

Well, besties, here we are at the end of Jade and Adrien's story. Big thanks to those who have stuck with me through it all, I cannot thank you enough for all your love! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One Twenty Two Twenty Three Twenty Four Twenty Five

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 5,157

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

No morning in Manhattan was ever quiet, New York truly being the city that never slept. One part of it was especially noisy, though, one bedroom in particular filled with the helpless moans and wails of a woman near out of her mind with pleasure.  

His cock sank in and out of the velvet wet of her cunt with slow, yet firm thrusts, his chest sliding against her back, her leg hooked under his arm as Jade saw in seven in the morning lying on her side, being fucked very thoroughly. There had been moments in her pregnancy where she’d swung between wanting to be on him all the time, and unable to bear being touched at all due to discomfort. Now, in the final days of it, all she wanted were sex and food.  

Being well laid and well fed were her number one priorities. Her husband had her covered on both counts.  

“Oh my god, oh fuck, that feels incredible!” she virtually growled, feeling his fingers massage in gentle rotation at her clit, his mouth hot in each kiss he peppered against her neck. It sparked golden through her, tingled her veins until they glowed alight, a ceaseless wave of pleasure that continued to lap over her until the crest finally rose, broke her shore and fell again. It left her shaking and fluttering around him as he filled her with cum, teeth gently crushing a bite on her shoulder with a soft groan.  

They dozed for a little while before getting up, taking a shower in turn before Jade went to order breakfast, wanting to hide in the warmth since December had brought with it a very bitter winter to Manhattan. Apparently, back at their house upstate they were already under a few feet of snow, the flurries in the city beginning to intensify more.  

While she loved their apartment, she did miss Stone Barn Castle, all of her animals, too. To be close to her chosen hospital ready to give birth, though, it meant a change of location for a couple of weeks. Little baby Brody had actually been due two days before, but was making his arrival into the world on his own terms, it seemed.  

Yes, they were parents to a boy, as they’d found out shortly after returning from Europe four and a half months ago. Maximus Patrick Steven Brody, as he was named, was definitely very comfortable where he was. His mother was not so content with that. So much so that she rarely left the apartment, her only visits being to see her doctor, and one coffee (herbal tea for her) date she’d been talked into by her good friend, Tony. Mr. Bourdain had greeted her with his usual comedy, standing to hug her and exclaim, ‘hey fatso!’, which had her laughing so hard, she’d nearly peed her pants. 

Apart from the discomfort, she loved being pregnant, not suffering much in the way of emotional outbursts any longer, but definitely still tickled beyond her control by anything comic. Case in point, sitting contentedly in the lounge after they’d eaten, Jade propped by many cushions and a heat pillow on her sore lower back, crying with laughter at a comedy special by British standup comedian named Gina Yashere. Jade had a natural gravitation to her fellow mouthy Londoners. 

“I swear, if you pee on the couch,” Adrien warned lightly, his stomach hurting at both the comedy stylings of Ms. Yashere and the utter hysterics of his wife, tears streaming down her face. “I love you, but not enough to clean up a piss puddle.” 

“I'm fine, it’s only a risk when he’s wedged his head on my bladder,” she gasped, falling apart again, holding her hand to her stomach as her laughter turned to a slight groan. “Oooh, ouch.”  

Eyebrows were raised. “General big belly discomfort, or do we finally have lift off?” 

“I don’t know, but that felt like a twinge,” she revealed, rubbing the swell of her bump, the slight discomfort passing fairly quickly. “I’m still hungry.”  

He couldn’t help but laugh. She’d just demolished a cheese omelette with four eggs, two slices of toast, hash browns and a side of steamed vegetables. He’d never seen her have an appetite like it, bar on the rare occasions she’d been stoned in the past. “Pickle chips?” 

Her eyes lit up. “There’s some left?” 

“I might have hidden a secret stash to prevent you from wailing when there’s none left,” he winked, getting up off the couch. 

“How very dare!” she shouted after him, just about able to reach and smack him on the butt, “I do not wail!” 

“Lies,” he called from the hallway, rooting around for the bag of Lays dill pickle chips he’d hidden in there in a box she wasn’t likely to go nosing in. “You’re a little snap dragon and you know it.” 

She supposed he had her there. Although emotional outbursts were few and far between, she did become a little panicked over the smallest of things. Case in point, her favourite chips not being in plentiful supply.  

“But I’m an adorable snap dragon,” she beamed, doing her best comic cutie voice. 

Leaning to her after passing the chips, he nuzzled her, kissing her forehead. “You got that right, Moo.” After demolishing most of the contents, she began to grow tired, Adrien taking the bag from her hand and wrapping her in a blanket, leaving her a note atop her bump to say he’d gone to the gym. Her afternoon naps sometimes lasted for anything up to three hours, so he had time to kill.  

True to form, he was there and back, showered and changed before she’d even woken up, Jade stretching as she yawned. “You’re in different clothes.” 

“Went to the gym,” he explained, stroking her thigh. “How was your nap?” 

“More like a small coma.” Her statement had him snort laughing as she shifted a little, rubbing beneath her bump. “I still feel a bit uncomfortable, not like usual discomfort either. Lots of pressure. I can’t be in labour, though. It’d be worse than this.” 

His shoulders dropped, letting out a small breath. Reaching for him, she smiled, stroking his cheek with her thumb. As her due date had neared, she’d noticed it, the fact he’d seemed nervous about the impending birth.  

Most might say he had nothing to fear from it, him not the one having to go through something so physically horrific as childbirth, but Jade knew him too well. That was exactly why he was nervous; knowing that she had to endure something so painful, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to take that away or make it better for her. He just had to sit there and spectate the love of his life as she went through the worst pain she’d likely ever be in.  

“It’ll be okay, you know,” she assured him, pulling him near to plant a kiss upon his lips. “Well, it’ll be hell and probably hurt more than I can even imagine, but just as long as you don’t pass out on me.” 

He had a thing about blood. “Yeah, I’ll be fine just as long as I don’t see anything south of your waist. I’ve no desire to watch him coming out. I’ll throw up or keel over. Plus, I really can’t deal with seeing the physical manifestation of you being in so much pain, but trust me, I will be right by your side the entire time.” 

“I understand, don’t worry. You were bad enough when Katie cut her hand open on the kitchen knife at that party a while back. Damn, Bug. You went so pale!” Laughing at the memory, she felt her abdomen tighten significantly, grimacing. “I think this might be it, you know. This feels like what I’ve learned to expect from a contraction.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, stroking the swell of her bump. 

“Not right now. Just being here is good enough, and holding my hand when I inevitably start panicking a bit,” she chuckled, shuffling to lean into his embrace. “It’ll be a while, too. First labours are always lengthy, as we were told.” 

Despite her vouch that she’d likely begin to panic eventually, Adrien had to marvel at her composure. And her natural knack to find comedy in any situation.  

“It’s odd, though. You and the blood thing, because you have no qualms about sex when I’ve got my period,” she mused, making him snort laugh.  

“Yeah, but that’s in the shower. Self-cleaning system,” he pointed out, grinning a little. “Plus you’re always so damned horny, if I didn’t nail you, you’d yell at me.” 

“Me? Yell?” she began, comically aghast. “You must have me confused with somebody else.” Wincing a little more, the tightness began to subside, Jade getting up with his help and having a little walk around. She’d read that it could help to stay gentle active, assisting in the baby moving down into the pelvis. It also made her sore back much more manageable. 

A few hours passed with little in the way of her discomfort becoming more frequent, even venturing out for a little fresh air and a tea at her favourite coffee shop in the West Village before slowly heading home.  

“Oh, fucking bloody blimey!” she exclaimed, resting a hand to her side as she chopped up salad vegetables to accompany the chicken they were having for dinner.. “Okay, that was way sharper than the rest.” Looking at her watch, a gorgeous Van Cleef timepiece she’d received from Adrien for her birthday that year, she breathed deeply, counting how long it lasted for. Twenty-eight seconds from start to finish, and her elevated pains had begun roughly nine hours ago. Things were progressing, albeit slowly, but she definitely thought this was the early onset of her labour. 

“Want me to help you back to the couch?” Adrien asked, flipping over the chicken breasts he was frying in the pan before him. 

“Nah, Bug. I’m good for now. Here, crack some of this onto the chicken. Always makes it taste better,” she spoke, handing him the truffle salt. Returning to her salad prep, she got that done and plated up, the dishwasher loaded and dinner ate before she felt the pain return, grumbling as she held Adrien’s hand and breathed deeply.  

“How is it now?” 

Muttering a few cusses, she leaned forward, soothed as he rubbed her lower back. “I feel like I have a little horse trying to exit my spine, and my stomach is really tight. Not bad other than that, though.” Not able to get comfortable on the couch, she went for a shower, feeling fresher, the heat working nicely for her pain as well. A few more hours passed, lying on her side with a heat pillow beneath her bump and Adrien’s warmth curled around her, unable to do much more than doze as her contractions steadily worsened in severity, but came no more frequently than every twenty minutes or so. 

Upon waking at 7am, Adrien saw his wife sitting up, stroking her bump as she focused on her laptop screen, watching Grey’s Anatomy since there was no TV present in the bedroom. 

“How long have you been awake?” he asked as she removed an ear bud, turning to him. 

“About an hour, but I didn’t sleep well prior, as you know.” He did indeed, surprised she’d slept at all, given her discomfort.  

Kissing her arm, he rubbed her belly, moving his head just beneath where the laptop was perched to kiss the swell. “Hey, you in there. Hurry this along, boy. Your mom isn’t happy, and we kinda really wanna meet you now, too.” 

She loved it whenever he talked to the baby, Jade smiling as she stroked his hair, her hand then gently flapping as she hissed, checking her watch. “Well, you must be fucking magical. Ouch, shit, ow, ow, ow!” she began, taking deep breaths. “That one was exactly fourteen minutes after the last, so it’s starting to speed up.” After almost twenty-four hours, she was glad of it, but the worsening pain was not welcome, even if the onset of her actually getting to meet her son was. 

After getting up, she showered and dressed with his help, her contractions gradually progressing to every ten minutes by midday, and then every five by late afternoon. This equalled time for them to travel to hospital. Once comfortable in her private room, checked out by a nurse before meeting Brielle, the midwife who would be delivering their baby. While the nurse had a much more stoic manner, Brielle was a complete breath of fresh air. 

“This is so, so surreal for me,” she explained, sitting on the side of the bed. “I love your music and now I get to deliver your baby!” The look of pure joy made a very uncomfortable Jade laugh, feeling reassured.  

Her own doctor who had overseen her pregnancy and been scheduled to deliver the baby was unfortunately unavailable after he’d become injured in a car accident, a dislocated shoulder and broken clavicle preventing him from being there. His replacement was an absolute delight, though. Professional without being too formal. “Okay so you’re five centimetres dilated, which is to be expected at this time. You could be in for a long wait on active labour, but I’ll keep coming in to check on you, as will the nurse.” 

In that tedious waiting time, they managed to find their own entertainment, counteracting their mutual mounting nerves.  

“You have to try this!” she spoke, giggling after taking another breath of the gas and air, handing it to Adrien. He duly accepted. 

“Woah!” Another huff was taken. “Damn, that’s good! That’s stronger than when you get nitrous at the dentist!” 

“Isn’t it?” she giggled, stroking his face. “And now you look high as fuck rather than freaked out. It’s a win, baby.” 

His phone began to ring in his pocket, Adrien groaning. “Oh god, it’s your mom. I can’t do this while I’m high!” His widened eyes had her cracking up. “Help me!" 

Those words only made her hysterics worse. “Put her on speaker, we’ll muddle through.”  

“Adrien! How are you? How’s my buba?” Gemma chirped, the man himself snorting with laughter.  

“He can’t talk right now, mum. He’s high as hell,” Jade laughed, watching her husband rest his head down on the side of the bed while holding his phone aloft.  

“He’s what?” the voice on the other end of the line boomed. “He’s about to become a father! This is no time for recreational nonsense!” 

“It’s gas and air, mommy,” Jade hissed, her own head spinning, “I told him to take a huff and now he’s all whacked out.” 

The disparaging sigh was audible. “You two are thirty-eight and forty-three years old. You should know better than this!” 

“Yeah, but what are you gonna do?” Adrien spoke, emerging once his laughter had subsided, feeling a little less woozy. 

An unimpressed snort sounded from his phone. “Don’t make me come down there.” 

“She will, too,” his wife spoke, grimacing. “Mommy, give me a minute. Contraction.” Grabbing Adrien’s free hand, she squeezed hard, growling softly. God, they were like someone was locking her entire midsection in a vice and tightening it fully. Some wincing, a few more huffs of the gas and she was able to speak, Adrien leaving her to it for a few minutes while he went to fetch a soda.  

“Oh, it’s so bloody boring, mum,” Jade lamented, her head spinning a little. “It’s apparently progressing as it should be, but it still feels slow. I’ve been here for four hours and haven’t dilated any further!” 

Gemma knew her eldest’s patience would wear thin fast. “I found a book helped, something I could get lost in and try and forget about the boredom and the pain,” she began, tidying up the lounge while she spoke. “I just finished a really good one by Zadie Smith if you want me to send daddy with it? He’s just taking a nap before going back in for his next surgery, but said he’d leave early so he can visit with you before he starts.” 

She agreed to it, although between the pain, fear and the gas, Jade didn’t know how much she’d be up for immersing herself in literature, if she was honest. Her mother always gave excellent advice, though, and she was prepared to at least give it a try, especially since it very much appeared that her son wouldn’t be arriving anytime soon.  

“Max, you’re making your mama very, very uncomfortable,” she spoke to her bump, stroking it while breathing her way through a contraction. “Ugh! This is torture!” 

“Well, if it counts for anything, I think you’re doing really well.” Adrien spoke, stroking her arm as he stretched his legs out. She was right, though. Apart from the excitement that their precious son was on his way into the world, awaiting that arrival was very tedious. Another few hours passed, and she was still no closer to active labour, but in the kind of pain that really began freaking her out. And him.  

“Are you sure you don’t want to go down the epidural route?” Brielle asked, after checking her over and confirming she was getting closer, now seven centimetres dilated.  

Jade grimaced, weighing it all up. “I do and I don’t. I’m bloody terrified of needles, and the thought of one going into my spine really spooks me,” she revealed, the midwife nodding with understanding. She wouldn’t be the first labouring woman to be put off by such, or the last. “I know I had piercings, but still, the piercer has had to hide the needle from me every single time so I haven’t freaked out. Ahh, shit. I don’t know. I really don’t.” 

Brielle could sympathise. Although she’d given many epidurals over her tenure in the profession, she knew that she herself wouldn’t relish in receiving it. “Well, from a medical standpoint I can say that if you feel you’re able to endure it, it would help of course with the anxiety you’re going through with the pain starting to really take a hold. However, you’ve mentioned that your back discomfort it getting worse, and I was going to suggest you perhaps consider kneeling for the active labour as this helps ease the pressure. With an epidural that wouldn’t be possible. It can also sometime prolong the active labour, too, since you’ll be completely numb and unable to use your muscles as normal to push.”  

She looked thoughtful for a few moments. “Think I’ll continue as I am.” Turning to Adrien, she stroked his face. “If I start cussing you out and telling you I’m never going to have sex with you again, just ignore me. You know me and pain don’t mix well.”  

He shook his head, taking her hand and kissing it. “Yell as much as you need to, baby love. If it makes you feel better, I can take it.”  

“You say this now.” Her widened eyes made him laugh, Brielle leaving them to it.  

He kissed her hand again, stroking her fingers. “I mean it, too. Ain’t me who’s gotta go through it, Moo. I’m fully expecting a tirade. And a broken hand.” He’d had words with himself, while she’d lay there agonising over her epidural. It wasn’t about him, or his own fears borne of an inability to make it better for her, what she was facing. Not panicking, being his usual calming influence was all he had to do.  

So, he did.  

In the end, Jade didn’t cuss him out, or tell him she was never having sex with him again, but god, how she screamed his eardrums to near perforation. Again. He didn’t give a damn either, that he was almost deaf in his right ear as he sat upon the edge of the bed with her kneeling behind him, her arms clutched tight around his shoulders as she squeezed his hands. He didn’t care that he felt like his knuckles were about to dislocate from the force of her grip.  

The only thing that mattered was her as for the hour of active labour, she did something that earned his respect a thousand times over, hiding his fear from her entirely as she showed more bravery and courage than he’d ever witnessed. Finally, at 2:04am, her efforts were paid off in the sound of their son’s cries filling the room.  

Two had become three.  

Epilogue 

Serenity. It hadn’t been a word Adrien would have expected to use, but the energy within their apartment was exactly that. At two days old, Max was of course making his presence known, but the baby was soothed very easily when he fussed. He would be placated at his mother’s breast, or lying contentedly upon his father’s chest, his cries ceasing once they’d understood what it was he was communicating that he wanted.  

His hold me, I’m hungry, or I just filled my diaper wails all sounded slightly different. The first was accompanied by a lot of disgruntled snuffling, the second was all out, tiny person rage, and the third more of a grumbled cry than the full-on dramatics of the former. At five in the morning on his second day at home, the noise coming from his crib was definitely hunger, Jade rising to pick him up and carry him back to the warmth of their bed, settling on her side to feed him as he lay between her and his daddy.  

“I know I’m biased, but he’s so cute,” Adrien spoke, turning to stroke Max’s little puffy cheek as he fed. “And he’s so good, too. As soon as we know what he wants, he gets it and he’s quiet again.” 

“He’s like his dad, very unfussy. All of this will be subject to the ultimate test, though. When he’s old enough to have keys and can’t find them.” She winked, and it had him laughing softly though his nose, knowing what a nightmare he could be while under the duress of misplacing an item.  

Adrien raised an eyebrow, and a middle finger, laughing quietly eventually. “Yeah, alright. Guess I have to take that one.” 

“Or when a plan changes at short notice.” 

“Okay, Burtie! That’s enough haranguing of your husband.” he spoke, reaching to gently flick her arm as she chuckled, her eyes flitting down to their baby. She had taken to motherhood like a duck to water, something Adrien had very much expected. Seeing how she was with their animals had always clued him in to her deeply maternal nature, the way she liked to look after something, or someone.  

Her caring side was completely unsurpassed. He’d never forget years ago when a young fan had been waiting in hope to meet them at the backstage doors one afternoon, Jade picking up immediately that the young girl looked like she’d been crying. She’d crouched before her and held her hands as the young fan had recounted the ordeal of having her bag stolen, no phone, no wallet, her only saving grace being that she’d had her passport and plane ticket back to Ireland stashed in her jacket.  

His wife had gone above and beyond, calling the hotel she was staying at and paying for her room on her own card before giving her two hundred pounds in cash so she had enough money for necessities before going home. That girl was Saoirse, a promising art student who now worked in merchandising for the band, designing every single piece of apparel sold on Seventh Gate’s online store.  

Once Max was fed, Jade put him back down, she and Adrein grabbing another precious hour of sleep before they were alerted by his cries again, this time a full diaper needing disposing of. While Jade sorted him, Adrien went and made them breakfast, yawning as he did. And the broken sleep would only get worse, but his baby was worth every ounce of slumber deprivation. 

While Jade showered, he held him on his legs while watching the morning news, Max snoozing, his adoring father beaming at him. He’d never seen anything so precious, and he was his. Later that morning, a couple of others more than agreed with that too. 

“Oh my god, homeslice!” Jen gasped, holding out her arms. “Gimme him, I gotta get a good munch in!” Adrien placed him carefully into her arms, Jade beaming from where she sat in the armchair adjacent as she watched her best friend cradle her son for the first time. “Hi, tiny person! You’re super, hella cute, man! I ain’t biased at all either, some babies come out looking all busted up, but not you! God damn, he’s beautiful!” 

“Hey now, don’t you be changing yer mind here, Jennifer!” Nick warned, waving a finger at his wife. “Just because he’s cute does’nae mean we should have one!” 

She laughed softly, gently stroking Max’s ear with her fingernail. “Nah, I’m good playing auntie. I’ll leave the tingly ovaries to the other girls, man.” And boy, when Charlotte, Katie and Jess met him over the coming days, they experienced just that. It was a constant stream of joy for them both, watching their loved ones meeting their little baby for the first time, Patrick especially as he rocked his grandson in his arms. 

“Now, little one. This painting right here is a Beksinski, your mother’s preferred choice. I cannot say I care too much for him, but John Williams Waterhouse, I shall educate you in. As well as the more standard grandpa things. We’re going to go to a dreadful place called Coney Island, yes! Cotton candy and fairground rides ran by the great unwashed. We will fill our bellies with soda and corndogs, and in doing so I shall probably enjoy such an escapade much more than I will ever let on. Yes I will, young man. Mmhmm.” 

He made good on his promise, too, when Max was old enough to appreciate it and the family returned to the city to visit their parents. Four years sped past in the blink of an eye, two thousand and twenty rolling around and bringing with it one of the biggest life changing events to hit the entire world, the Covid-19 pandemic spreading like wildfire.  

Jade, Adrien and Max were in England when it hit badly, the eventual closing of the borders meaning they spend the best part of that year at their home in Buckinghamshire. It was the home they’d spent the least amount of time in out of their three, and while they missed Cleveland, it was good to settle in the English countryside for a few months. It was also the home they welcomed their second and third children in, Jade giving birth in March to twin girls they named Harri and Henri. 

Both had wondered when the twin gene that ran through Gemma’s side would land upon them.  The girls brought further joy into their lives, as well as a lot of energy and noise. So much noise. Harri was the quieter of the two, a very contemplative child, while Henri... well... there was a reason why as she grew up, they nicknamed her Louise, after the character Louise Belcher in the animated series Bob’s Burgers. She was pure chaos.  

“Dad! Can we gallop, can we?”  

Why? Why had he decided to take her with him as he rode Saxon over the fields of their Cleveland abode, his high-energy five-year-old squirming as she sat at the front of the saddle.  

“No, honey. I can’t control a horse at that pace and make sure you don’t fall off,” he spoke, being met with a huge frown. 

“But why? It’ll be lit!”  

He could kill Jen for teaching her as much slang as she could remember. “Ain’t happening, Henri.” 

She was thoughtful for a few moments. “I know, I know! We go back, grab mom’s snowboard, attach a rope to Saxon and then I can ski along behind you! That’ll be awesome, we have to do it!”  

“No, it won’t,” he spoke. More wiggling and shouting followed. 

“But why?” 

Yes, she had definitely entered her why years. Why this, why that, and then a little more why sprinkled on top of that. Most days, she made him feel much older than his fifty-one years. If he even let her do half of her madcap suggestions, he wagered he’d feel even older still.  

“Because it’s dangerous,” he advised. 

“I live for the danger, dad!” 

He shouldn’t have laughed, but he did. “Don’t I know it, kid.”  

They turned back after a further half hour, riding onto the sun filled yard, the summer in full bloom. Jumping down from Saxon, one of their staff who worked on the yard took him from Adrien, Henri running off to where her sister was busy feeding the large group of ducks milling around at the top. Yes, thanks to Jade, Stone Barn Castle had practically been restored to a farm once again, more stables built, a few more horses within them, ducks present. They even had a small goat herd.  

Heading into the house, he saw his wife and son in the kitchen, Max helping his mother make the huge bowl of guacamole that would go with their chili later that evening. Jade had been all set to go and buy some fresh fish, but as usual, the children had different ideas. They often got their own way when it came to their mom’s chili. She did happen to make it very, very well.  

They ate outside that evening, Jade and Adrien relaxing on the outdoor couch with a glass of wine each as they watched their kids playing in the fading sun.  

“Henri!” she called, pointing. “What have I told you? No weaponizing chickens against your sister! Put her down!” 

“It’s an assault by leghorn!” the child cried, the hen eventually being placed back down to scurry off to where the others pecked contentedly at the grass. 

Adrien chuckled, winding an arm around his shoulders. “She reminds me of you when you’re drunk.” He received an elbow to his side, laughing more, kissing her head. “Wouldn’t have her any other way, though.” 

“The volume is a bit much as times, but no. Neither would I.” Looking out at her beloved babies, she smiled with pure contentment. “Wouldn’t have anything any other way.”  

And neither would he. Fifteen years before, he’d begrudged being dragged along by Lewis to that open air music festival. If only the younger man in the crowd could have possibly known all that would come from one beautiful woman screaming in his face. He’d have never believed it, but he knew he wouldn’t change any of it at all. 

The End.  

[sseanettles]

nothing grows in corpses (in the earth of me)

dream x hob gadling | mature | Finally cross-posting my take on the fandom classic of the show progresses as the comics do, even to The Wake. Until Death resurrects Morpheus and forces the choice of "redemption" upon him instead of suicide. It goes...horribly. No good. Very bad. Instead of learning the lesson, Morpheus (in his infinite wisdom) opts instead for a highly effective existence strike until one day Hob Gadling stumbles upon his ghastly handiwork and immediately decides that this just won't do. Man Who Refuses To Die vs. Man Who Refuses To Live: fight.

Dead Dove, Do Not Eat for the following: graphic depictions of starvation, illness, suicidal ideation, self-harm, blood and gore, loss of autonomy, etc. etc. This is some classic old world whump, folks! But I promise it's also supremely healing in the end.

CH. 12: I'll be your friend | 4 k | AO3 link | prev part | next part

(or: the one where the boys chat & Gwen returns home ft. art by the great shrugsinchinese)

Hours later, with no memory of anything beyond Matthew flying at his face and trying to bury himself inside his hair and face and neck, purring and gurgling all the while, Morpheus now dozed—sat upright amid a mountain of pillows to support his haggard frame. He had another bowl of soup beside him with a barely touched hunk of bread in it, as well as a mug of long-cooled tea.

Matthew slept in his lap. His wings were drooped, his feathers ruffled in time with his breaths, and his beak rested upon Morpheus’ bony thigh as if it were the most resplendent pillow. Morpheus’ fingers with their split nails and weather-bitten skin caressed the feathers, scritching his companion’s ear and head with the most delicate touch. Gadling, meanwhile, lay on the floor beside them, stranded there ever since Constantine had headed out for a supply run and the man had shortly realized that he couldn’t quite get back up on his own with the current state of his ribs and spine.

Help, I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up, Matthew had instantly announced in the most ludicrous voice and then toppled off the back of the couch with a squawk as Gadling lobbed a throw pillow at him with lethal accuracy.

“You handled…the talking raven…well,” Morpheus murmured after some time.

“Well, I did have the spitting image of a long-dead noble breaking into my home while throwing hellfire at me at the time,” Hob said, stuck staring at the rafters. “Had you in my house for not even a full twenty-four hours, yet. And then have personally been immortal for over six hundred years.” He shrugged as best as he could on the floor. “Talking bird seemed rather basic, really.”

“Don’t…let him…hear that…” Morpheus managed and coughed for some time, Matthew rousing briefly to purr and nip at his fingers before soothing once more into sleep.

“Never,” Hob promised with a grin and tried again to sit up. He got to about a thirty-degree angle with his elbows wedged under him, and had to stop, panting through the pain that tightened around his chest and spine like cooper’s bands until he could hardly stand it.

Almost. He was almost there, he just had to roll to his side, get his leg up under him….

“You seem…happier,” he managed through gritted teeth as he resumed his endeavor. “Talking more.”

Morpheus watched him struggle, his hand stilling over Matthew in a protective curl.

“Familiar,” he said after a time.

Hob was almost there. Almost there, just a bit further, he could grab the armchair and hoist himself onto the seat, collapse there…yes. Yes, his battered bones would so much prefer that.

“…forget.”

The armchair teetered, and Hob barely managed a startled shout before righting the whole set-up and collapsing into the seat. He relaxed slowly, as if worried he’d fall to pieces if he weren’t straining to keep his every bone in place, and finally sagged in relief in the seat.

He caught Morpheus’ bemused eyes watching him.

“Oi, you get magically thrown across a room and shatter a stool with your back, let me know how you feel. Anyway. Forget, you were saying?”

“Constantine,” Morpheus nodded and had to stop after the multi-syllable name to catch his breath. “Allows…forgetting…Matthew is….” He coughed again, gently bracing the raven as he did. “Less?”

He frowned, displeased at his word-choice, and visibly struggled to find another collection of them to string together like a constellation, hoping that the other man would catch the bigger picture of his meaning. He needn’t have worried; Gadling was already nodding.

“Constantine’s jaded,” he agreed. “Shit slides off her like water off a duck. She can take one look at you, and if she acts like nothing’s wrong, you know it’s because she’s already processed and chucked it aside. She doesn’t care. And you know she doesn’t care. She’s a merc.”

Morpheus’ eyes sparkled.

“Thought…you just…met her…”

“Ah, well. I’m a merc, too, aren’t I? We’re all one and the same. But that one,” he pointed at the raven, “well, I was around in the time of lords and servants. That was your servant. Sure, maybe he turned into an adviser and then a friend in a fashion, maybe even closer to court jester at times,” he granted as Morpheus’ expression shifted to the beginnings of a protest. “But I will bet my next hundred years that he started as a servant, and one who always spoke his mind. What he says is what you get, like Constantine. But unlike Constantine, he was and is beholden to you. No matter what form you present, he will always adore you. He will always see you as his Lord Morpheus.” He winced as a lancet of pain spiked up the length of his spine. “They let you forget all of this.”

Morpheus regarded him in silence for a long time. “And…you?”

Again came the shrug. “I’m what scares you the most.”

What’s that? the shift in Morpheus’ brow asked, and Hob answered him plainly.

“I’m humanity.”

There came a fumbling at the front door, followed by a clatter, a slam, and uneven footsteps up the stairs. Matthew roused from his sleep and flew to the back of the sofa to watch the door like a feathered guard dog.

“Here’s your shit,” Constantine announced as soon as she entered the flat and dropped the collection of medical supplies and groceries at Hob’s feet.

“Aw, thanks, love,” he drawled back in scathing sarcasm and smirked as he got a scowl in return.

“You wouldn’t believe the looks I got checking some of that out in one go,” she complained and pulled off the scarf and one of Gwen’s jumpers, leaving her in just her blood-crusted skin and bra. “Clerk asked me if I was planning to join Doctors Without Borders.” She headed into the kitchen and stared at the empty island. “Oi! Thought you were going to fetch a bowl and bleach—help me wash the blood out of the shirt you ruined.”

“Turns out that throwing a man across a room, through a stool, and into a wall with hellfire mucks up his ability to move around,” Hob returned, leaning stiffly forward to give her a pointed stare past the armchair, and she rolled her eyes. “I only just got off the floor. You can ask him.”

“I have to do everything around here…I even got that bloody nurse to give me that favor she owes me, y’know!” she called as she began to rummage about in his cabinets. “She’ll be by soon. Get you all set up with some fancier supplies than what you’ve got there, some IV equipment, antibiotics. She’s discreet, or at the least, she’ll keep her mouth shut if she knows what’s good for her.”

“And we thank you for your help and your menacing-ness!” Matthew called before shuffling around to peer at Hob’s bounty. “So, what have we got?”

“Not…hungry,” Morpheus huffed with a sharpening edge to his voice for what had to be the hundredth time in the last two hours.

“Well, then, we won’t have a problem,” Hob smiled and lowered himself painfully to his knees so he could rummage through the bags alongside his charge. He found the item he was looking for and pulled it free. “I was thinking we could try some Gatorade—”

Morpheus caught one look of the orange fluid and lurched for the edge of the bed as his stomach heaved in a horrible gag.

“Oh, shit,” Hob blurted, dropping the drink, and moved to meet him as his friend’s stomach heaved again, and his gag turned to a retch as he vomited up what little bile and soup remained in his gut from the morning.

Dad reflexes, as Hob called them, were a funny evolutionary thing to happen to a human. Once there, they lingered. He was not yet sure how long they did, but for now his standing theory was forever. He had not yet been proven wrong. And one of the biggest reflexes was that when a child or loved one or whichever poor soul was currently relying on him for care was falling, he moved to catch. Sometimes that got cross-wired at unfortunate times, in situations where other reflexes were perhaps better to employ.

Such as the reflex to dodge.

All of that to say, there came that tell-tale splattering, and Gadling flinched the harshest he had flinched since this entire ordeal began as he felt the consequences of his actions immediately. And when Morpheus finished heaving at the edge of the bed and opened his eyes, he found himself staring down into Gadling’s waiting palms.

His very, very soiled palms, spattered with the same sick that stained his shirt and pants and pooled on the floor beneath them.

Sister, Morpheus begged as he sank to the bed and hid his blazing face in the blankets. Please, take me now.

His sister declined. 

Gadling slowly opened his eyes from his full-body grimace and took in the state of himself with a slow, accepting nod. He could feel Constantine staring at him from the kitchen like he was a goddamn alien, and Matthew at least had the decency to occupy himself with looking anywhere but at them.

“Well,” he said after a long, long quiet. “I guess we’re not trying Gatorade.”

“Sorry,” Morpheus moaned, his hands inching into his hair to dig into it and finding it near-impossible with the shorn locks.

“Oh, this?” Hob gingerly turned his hands, allowing some of the sick pooled in his palms to drip to the floor. “Nah, no, that—this one’s on me. Um.” Constantine dropped a bath towel on his lap with the judgement of civilizations in the simple gesture, and he nodded his still-cringing thanks as he began to wipe himself down. “Bad reflexes,” he decided. “Or suppose, good reflexes, bad use of ‘em, right?”

Slowly, painfully, Morpheus turned his head to peer at Gadling with one eye from the bed. The sheer mortification and anguish…in the face of it, Hob did the only thing he could.

He began to laugh. And laugh and laugh and laugh until he was snorting and then crying from the strain it put on his battered body, and even then, he laughed still. He didn’t start the long wind-down to stopping until he saw some of the weight lift from his Stranger’s shoulders, until the self-hating despair lightened into self-mockery and finally into begrudging amusement. He patted Morpheus’ shoulder as he stood and retreated to his bedroom to get changed.

They were alright. This would all be alright.

o\\__oOoOoOo__//o

Gwen was locking the front door to the building when their neighbor’s door across the foyer opened with a wafting scent of potpourri and old wool.

“Oh! Good afternoon, Mrs. Williams,” she shouted, hoping the old woman currently shuffling her way over to her couldn’t tell that her heart had begun to race at the sight of her.

Mrs. Williams was a crooked, wrinkled old woman with a stooped back constantly draped in knitted shawls and a cane almost as gnarled as her hands. Her thick gray and white hair was pulled back into its customary bun, and her dark eyes blinked behind round glasses so thick they gave her a bug-eyed look set in a bulldog face that sagged and wobbled as she moved. She always wore a long-chained necklace with a gear and clockwork timepiece at the center that needed to be wound up every other day and hardly worked. It seemed today she had added yet another cardigan to her existing layers and had traded her sweatpants for a rather festive, heavy Christmas skirt that dragged about her feet in a way that made Gwen nervous for her safety. She smiled anyway and touched the woman’s elbow once she was near enough, guiding her nearly blind eyes to her blurry silhouette.

“How are you, honey?” she yelled.

They had tried to help Mrs. Williams finally get her hearing aids this year. She’d said no, she heard just fine without them, thank you, darling. Gwen was beginning to wonder if she knew everyone just screamed at the top of their lungs around her to be heard.

“Oh, I wish I could say I was good, darling,” the old woman sighed, shaking her head more than it already shook on its own. “You know I adore you both, but you really must tell Robbie to turn down his tele. He had some dreadful action picture on after that horror one you two watched last night, and, why, it’s been putting me off my tea all day.”

Gwen’s blood went cold. She looked up the stairs with her heart in her throat, scanning the empty steps and empty walls for any sign of harm.

“I hadn’t been able to finish my morning cup until this past hour,” Mrs. Williams finished saying, and Gwen cleared her throat, recovering quickly. “It was really quite dreadful.”

“Oh, my goodness, I am so sorry, Mrs. Williams,” she yelled and took her hands in her own. She prayed they wouldn’t shake. “You are absolutely right! I’ll give him a very stern talking to right now!”  

“Oh, well, don’t be too stern with him, dear,” the old woman faltered and patted Gwen’s hands. “He’s always so nice and charming.”

“Of course not, Mrs. Williams! Now head on home, honey, enjoy your morning. We’ll be as quiet as mice from now on!”

Gwen waited—her heart pounding her throat, her head, her chest, adrenaline shooting through her veins like electricity—as the old woman shuffled her way back across the foyer and through the door of the bottom unit. And as soon as the door shut, the lock clicking behind her, Gwen was gone.

She ran, taking the steps two at a time, the weight of her bags nothing to her now, and scoured every inch of the stairs and walls as she fled.

Blood.

Her heart beat faster.

There was blood, fine flecks of it, spraying in an arc along the wall and floor in a clear streak, and higher up—there, yes, there—there was a furrow in the wall where something sharp had buried deep.

Robbie. Robbie, Robbie.

She reached the door to their flat and found it unlocked. Breathing as deeply and steadily as she could, dread filling her heart, preparing herself for the worst…she turned the knob and pushed.

…

…Hm.

Gwen stared and breathed and tried to find in her a civilized response to what she saw.

A dark-haired young woman sat on the edge of the coffee table that had been dragged round to sit in front of the roaring fireplace, clad in nothing but her bra with a very fresh wound newly stitched up along her ribs. A ring of bruises that matched the size of Robbie’s hands throttled her neck, their red already purpling to blue. She had their largest salad bowl in her lap, and she scrubbed furiously at what Gwen hoped was her own bloody shirt within it, trying to salvage what was frankly unsalvageable. One of their barstools lied in scattered pieces across the floor; Robbie was once more laid out beside his friend, dressed in a new pair of sweatpants from this morning and also no shirt, which was how she saw the web of purple-green-black bruises that spread across his ribs to his back that she was beginning to suspect were related to the state of the stool. The towel-wrapped ice pack he had pressed to his groin, however, she could not explain. Robbie’s stranger actually looked a bit brighter eyed, a bit stronger than he had so far, given that he even managed to look over his shoulder to her as she entered the room, but he was also now hooked up to multiple IV lines all infusing from a pole that had at least four actively running channels on it.

An honest to God raven perched on his knee, fluffed up and basking in the warmth of the fireplace as it mimicked with unnerving accuracy a hummed medley of old carols like some sort of Yule Muppet. The soup simmered on the stove; the baguette was ravaged apart into a free-for-all assortment of chunks across the island, and a kettle still steamed on a coaster beside them, along with a bottle of rum and a scattered assortment of cinnamon, lemon, and honey. 

The blood stain in the carpet from this morning was still there, and to top it all off, their fireplace hatchet sat, buried, for some godless reason, in their bedroom door.

“What…the fuck…is going on, Robbie?”

Her boyfriend immediately craned his head back to look at her across the floor and gave a groaning hiss as the movement aggravated some kind of pain in his neck. He moved the ice pack to his head instead as a new migraine bloomed.

“Gwen!” He faltered, scanning the room, and somehow appeared to put together how this all looked for the first time. “Ah, yes. Right. Um. This,” he pointed to the unbothered woman still scrubbing out her shirt, “is Johanna Constantine, a. Hm. An, um, old…”

Constantine watched Hob flounder for a bit before looking to Gwen herself and raising a hand in a half-wave, half-salute that was tinged pink with diluted blood and bleach.

“I’m an old friend of his,” she pointed to Morpheus on the couch bed, “but my family used to know Robbie.”

Hob shot her a glare for the pointed, mocking emphasis she laid on his name and looked back to Gwen as best as he could.

“She was operating under a bit of a misunderstanding, broke in. We got in a bit of a tussle,” he explained and gestured to the state of the flat. “Don’t worry, I’ll patch the walls and fix the stool and the carpet.” He followed Gwen’s unblinking stare back to Constantine and clocked the bloodied dish. “I’ll replace the salad bowl, too. Promise, all of this will be good as new.”

Gwen blinked, slowly. She took a few more steps into what once had been their flat and closed the door behind her.

“So, she’s from the before times,” she said, pointing with her keys at Johanna, and the other woman slowly stopped her cleaning as she read the room.

“Not her specifically, no,” Hob corrected. “But her great-great…great…” He shot a questioning look to Johanna and got a confirmatory thumbs-up in return, “—grandmother a few centuries back, yeah. Knew her.”

Gwen nodded as slowly as she had blinked, digesting every bit of information.

“You human?” she asked Johanna after some time.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Mortal?”

“As far as I know, though I try not to test that out too much.”

“Good. Try to keep it that way.” Gwen’s keys of interrogation shifted now to Matthew. “And the bird?”

Unseen by Gwen, Hob shot the raven a look and jerked his thumb subtly toward Johanna. He took the hint and flapped from Morpheus’ knee to Constantine’s, and the conjurer looked from the bird to Gadling and then to her questioner.

“He’s a…pet.”

“A PET?!” Matthew demanded, and Hob dropped an arm across his eyes with a heavy sigh as Constantine’s hand snapped shut on his beak far too late.

Gwen’s weight shifted to one leg in the way it only did when she was nearing the end of her rope.

“Did the crow just talk?”

“Raven,” Matthew grumbled past Johanna’s fingers, and she shifted her grip on his beak to all-but weld the damn thing shut.

“…No?” Hob offered from the floor, hoping she would accept the out and choose to live in ignorant bliss for a little longer.

“Robbie,” she growled.

His wince deepened.

No dice.

Matthew wrested himself free from Constantine’s half-hearted hold and flapped to the floor to hop his way on over to Gwen.

“I’m Matthew, ma’am,” he said when he was close enough and dipped into one of his little bows. “And um, thank you for letting my old boss stay on your couch. I know he’s a lousy house guest when he’s at his best and this,” he tilted his head to the bed, “is certainly not that. So, we all appreciate it very much.”

Gwen stared at the talking raven who was apparently named Matthew so long, unblinking all the while, that the bird was beginning to worry she’d stroked out when she moved. Her hand lowered in a snap to her side, and she looked to her boyfriend where he still sprawled, supine, upon the floor.

“Y’know what?” she announced. “I’m gonna go stay with Marjorie tonight.”

“Wait, Gwen!” Hob called and painfully rolled himself to his feet, groaning all the way as his various injuries and actively knitting bones protested his movement. “Gwen, love—”

“Sorry,” Matthew croaked as Hob limped hurriedly past him to follow Gwen into the bedroom, and he looked up to Johanna as the woman finally just called her shirt a loss and tossed it in the trash. She’d go home wearing just the stained trench coat. If anyone asked after the blood, she’d say it was a fashion statement. “I thought I handled that pretty well….”

“No,” Constantine drawled, “you handled it perfectly.”

Matthew flew to the back of the sofa and hopped down onto Morpheus’ shoulder, settling in as if his place were worn into the man there forevermore.

“I’m sensing sarcasm.”

“You’re a talking raven, Matthew. How’d you think this was gonna go?”

“Yeesh,” the bird grumbled and ruffled his feathers in displeasure, shuffling closer to Morpheus’ head and earning a weak scritch at his ear for his efforts. “Settle down, I got it.”

“And you.” Morpheus looked to Constantine in mild surprise as she rounded now on him, pointing between his laid-out form and the bedroom. “Were you gonna say anything or just leave us to flounder around like idiots for you?”

He regarded her for a moment, waiting to see if she was perhaps attempting a joke. When the question seemed sincere, his blank, slightly baffled stare shifted to one of ridicule.

“…and…how much…better,” he said, pulling each syllable from his throat like a thorn, “do you think…I…would have…handled it?”

Silence followed, broken only by the rumble of softly arguing voices from beyond the bedroom door.

“Yeah, that’s fair enough, actually,” Constantine agreed, and they all looked quietly to Hob as he re-entered the living room, looking exhausted.

Gwen left shortly behind him, a bag fully packed, and her attention directed stubbornly to the way ahead of her as she left as quickly as she could without tripping down the stairs. The first door closed softly, by dint of its weight, but the door downstairs slammed with an almighty bang that rang on in the silence that followed. For a while, nobody said anything.

Then, Constantine held up her coat.

“You owe me dry-cleaning. And a new shirt.”

Matthew’s head dipped with a laugh, shaking, and Hob dug his fingers into his eyes as he massaged his forehead and temples. But when he finally let his hands drop, there was a tired sort of merriment to him, a weary, rundown sort of acceptance that this had happened, this would continue to happen, and all he could do was roll with the punches and laugh at it all. He looked to Morpheus, but the man’s gaze was inscrutable. He could not tell if he felt guilty for what had just happened, could not tell if he thought there was anything wrong. He just stared: an unreadable reflection for whatever Hob decided to assign to him.

He decided to keep everyone on theme.

“You’re a very expensive habit to keep, do you know that, Stranger?”

Morpheus did not smile. But something glittered deep in the blacks of his pupils, there and gone in the same instant. Something knowing. Something warning.

Something fae.

“It has…been said,” the Stranger returned, and Hob suppressed a shiver.

Oh. Oh, he was in so much trouble.

[daydreamtofiction]

For the fake fic titles

Late nights and Violins

I was thinking a fluffy Sherlock/reader, obviously if you want to ignore this bit and start with other ideas please do but maybe some themes of insomnia and/or nightmares?

Late Nights & Violins / Sherlock x Reader

For the ‘fake fic title’ challenge.

Word Count: 1.5K

Contents: Fluff, a lil bit of hurt, comfort, established relationship, soft Sherlock.

Warnings: Nightmares, insomnia, mentions of sleeping pills, some claustrophobic imagery. Let’s rate this one a 12A.

The air was close and oppressive, so thick you could practically feel it sitting on your skin. You couldn't remember how you got there, all you knew was that you couldn't get out; your body folded and wedged inside a tight, dark space, head hurting, breath shaking, and you were scared. But you held back the panic as much as you could, because Sherlock was coming.

You knew he was coming because that was what happened last time; you were trapped, but he came. Broke open the door with his bare hands and pulled you free, letting you fall into his arms as you desperately drank down gulps of fresh air, crying into his chest as he promised you it was over, you were safe now.

But this time he didn't come. Instead you sat there, knees pressed uncomfortably to your chest as you sucked in the last of your air to scream. But no sound left you. Nothing at all. And that's when you realised it wasn't real. None of it was real.

You woke with tears trickling down your face, the pillow damp beneath your cheek. You could feel your heartbeat fluttering quickly with the remnants of panic, bridging the gap between nightmare and reality; the confined, dark prison and the warm, safe bedroom.

You turned, as you always did in those moments, to the other side of the bed, reaching out your hand in the hopes that Sherlock would be there. But he wasn't. You sat up, sniffing sharply and wiping your face before glancing to the clock on the bedside table, furrowing your brow when you saw it was after 2am. He had said not to wait up for him, that he and John were following leads for a case, but it didn't stop the worry from materialising in your chest. You always worried about him, even when he reminded you that there was no need to, and that no good ever came from your perturbation.

You padded to the bathroom and began feeling your way to the cabinet above the sink. You rarely moved your pills; so used to them being there that even in the dark you could usually grab them with one swipe. But after a moment of running your hand back and forth along the shelf, you conceded with a huff and reached for the switch on the wall, squinting in the harsh light and letting out a hum in confusion.

The streetlights on Baker Street shone through the tall windows, casting a soft glow across the cluttered living room of 221B. You made your way in through the kitchen, startling when you finally noticed the dark figure sitting in one of the armchairs by the cold, unlit fireplace. It was Sherlock; head down, one leg crossed over the other, violin pressed to his chest as he plucked nimbly at the strings. You gave a quiet yelp, clutching your chest in fright before exhaling through puckered lips.

"My god," you whispered.

He glanced up at you, seemingly unsurprised by your reaction to finding him there.

"I thought you were still out," you said, making your way across the room towards the couch.

He shook his head. "Got home a little while ago."

"Why didn't you come to bed?"

"I did. But I couldn't sleep so I got up again."

"Wow, you can't sleep and I can't stay asleep, we are quite the pair," you said distractedly, switching on the lamp in the corner. "Have you seen my bag?"

He turned to look at you, pale eyes scanning you for a brief moment. "What for?"

"My Diazepam. I thought it was in the bathroom but it's not there."

"Hm."

You stood up straight and turned towards him. "Did you move it?"

"Why would I move your medication?"

"I don't know," you began blithely. "You've done some wild stuff in your time, Mr Holmes. Is stealing your girlfriend's pills really that hard to believe?"

"Fair," he replied plainly, putting the violin down and reaching his arm out to you.

You took a few steps towards him, placing your hand in his and letting him pull you gently into his lap.

"But I really didn't take it," he finished.

You curled up against his chest, closing your eyes and feeling the tension in your body begin to melt away. "I believe you."

It was quiet for a while as you relaxed against the rhythm of his breathing, his chest rising and falling as he held you close, elegant fingers brushing softly through your hair.

"Another nightmare?" he finally asked.

You didn't answer, instead you simply nuzzled closer, taking in his warm, clean, familiar scent, still noticeable in the fabric of his shirt.

"You're safe now," he said, his voice deep yet so soft. "You know that, don't you? I will never let anything like that happen to you again."

"I know. And I feel safe with you, I do. But it's like... No matter how safe I feel, as soon as I fall asleep I just end up right back there."

"It will ease with time, trust me."

You were never the 'damsel in distress' type; never longed for a white knight to save you, a protector to rock you back to sleep when you woke from a bad dream. You were always so wayward, so fiercely brave and unbroken. And it was those qualities, you knew, that had made Sherlock fall in love with you.

If he'd known back then, that just one case would change everything, make you an echo of who you once were, you wondered if he would have fallen for you at all.

But it was as if he could read your mind, his body tensing beneath you the second the thought passed through you. He tightened his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before speaking quietly.

"None of this is your fault, you know. If anything it's mine-"

"Don't." You shook your head, leaning back slightly to look at him. "You agreed not to say things like that anymore. You weren't to know they would come after me. No one could've known that."

"I should have. I made a stupid error in deduction and I almost lost you because of it."

You shushed him gently, burying your face in the crook of his neck and placing a single, chaste kiss on the soft skin above the collar of his shirt. He sighed at the feeling, letting his head fall back slightly, eyes closed.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too."

It never got old hearing him say those words. Especially in these moments; the late nights wrapped in each other's arms while the rest of the world slept soundly, like a stark reminder of the pain you both carried, yet so desperately wanted to rid from each other.

"I was actually working on something before you came marching in here accusing me of theft," he said.

"You're so dramatic," you giggled. "I didn't come marching in and I definitely didn't accuse you of anything."

"Mm."

You sat up, shaking your head at him with another laugh. "What were you working on?"

"A piece." He glanced down to his violin leaning against the side of his armchair. "For you."

"A piece? You're composing music for me?"

"I was. It's not quite finished yet."

"Will you play me what you have so far?"

He shook his head. "You can hear it once it's done."

"Oh please, Sherlock?" you whined softly, draping your arms over his shoulders. "It could help me get back to sleep since I can't find my tablets…"

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. He reached up, placing a hand on the side of your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "My darling, what on earth makes you think my playing would make an adequate replacement for valium?"

You bit your lip to stifle a smile. "I suppose it is a bit late anyway. Mrs Hudson already thinks we’re too noisy.” 

He gave a throaty chuckle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You hit him gently on the back of the head.

"Mind out the gutter, Sherlock."

"What? It's not my fault. I'm sleep deprived."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "Nice to meet you, sleep deprived. I'm absolutely exhausted."

He smiled, pulling you slightly closer to him. "I meant it when I said it will ease with time." He paused. "And I will happily remain sleep deprived until you are no longer absolutely exhausted."

[leviathanspain]

Maybe reader is staying the night at Matt’s (idk cause they’re drunk or something) and one of thems in the bed and ones on the couch, but someone goes to the other in the middle of the night for snuggles bc they can’t sleep????

when you sleep

matt murdock x reader

synopsis: you and matt were incredibly drunk, like you mopped the bar floor, kind of drunk and so you spend the night over at his place but you can’t sleep

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

even in his drunk state, matt had insisted you take the bed. he didn’t even give you enough time to argue before he stripped down to his boxers and threw himself on his couch. you peeled your clothes off, they reeked of alcohol, and you mindlessly rummaged through matt’s dresser. your hands dipped into a dresser and you heard the crinkle of a foil, and you yelped, pulling back from going too far into his privacy.

you rummaged in another drawer until you found a ratty old t shirt of his. it was definitely the alcohol that made you weak for matt, his scent was intoxicating, and so you shoved the t shirt on, happy to be wrapped in his smell.

you padded towards his bed, and sighed. you glanced over at matt who was spilled over on the couch. you didn’t care if you slept on the floor, but it seemed unfair that you got his spacious bed, with the alarmingly comfortable sheets, while he got his stiff couch that gave anyone a sore just from sitting on it.

you mulled it over, but you started to realize you were falling over, so you turned and fell back into the bed. the sheets felt cool on your skin as you took a deep breath, closing your eyes and determined to sleep.

minutes must’ve gone by as you opened your eyes, frustrated that you hadn’t fallen asleep by now. you turned, facing the other end of the bed. matt’s scent was all over the pillow, and it left you unsettled, plagued for warmth of the body that was just in the other room.

begrudgingly, you stood up, and winced at the cold floor your bare feet hit. padding over to the living room, you grabbed a blanket that sat on the other couch, and opened it, walking to the couch matt was on. he wasn’t shivering but it was cold. he looked peaceful, and you couldnt help but to stare at his beauty, the vicious scars that completed that beauty.

noticing there was enough space for you to wedge in between matt and the couch, you stuck yourself in, and you felt the warmth of matt radiate as your legs met. matt stirred in his sleep and you smirked, nudging him as you were now face to face with him. matt recognized your scent and he smiled, sleepily.

you ran your hands through his hair as you tucked your bodies in with the blanket. matt snuggled closer to you, hands wrapping protectively around your body.

“this couch is so small.” he commented, his voice raspy with sleep. his eyes were still closed.

you laughed softly, “i couldn’t sleep.”

matt smiled, “i know. i could hear you tossing and turning after you snooped through my dresser.” he poked your side and you gasped.

you wrapped your hands around matt’s side and let your head fall on his chest, “whatever. just hold me, matty?”

matt held you, and he could hear your snoring moments after. your body was exhausted, but it wouldn’t let you rest unless you were with him, and that fact warmed his heart.

[acherontiarchivist]

Ok so… Gabriel May telling the reader sweet(or dirty <3) nothings while she gets through some period cramps. Bc if Gabriel comforted me in his voice I’d probably just melt 😩

Anon your MIND. I've been obsessing about this all through work the last few days. Literally struggling through bad cramps myself and now I can't stop thinking about synching cycles with him fjabskzksns 🤭

Gabriel May comforting the reader through menstrual cramps under the cut 💜💜💜

Content: menstruation, reader uses female gendered pronouns (as requested), possessiveness (if you squint), dirty talk, voice kink, IMPLIED NSFW 🔞

🚫MINORS DO NOT INTERACT🚫

You don't much mind the harder days anymore. Sure, the pain is unpleasant as always–debilitating at worst, inconvenient at best– but now you have your loving partner to help you through it! And boy, does he make you feel pampered.

Currently, he has you reclined on the couch, propped up by pillows and tucked tight into your favorite blanket, heating pad radiating a relieving warmth. He refuses to let you do any housework, or even get your own glass of water; instead, waiting on your every need himself. About every hour or so he'll stop whatever chore he's working on to check on you; refill your glass, bring you snacks, make sure your heating pad isn't too hot.

Once again, he enters the living room and lightly pets your cheek with the back of his fingers, "How… are you feeling?... Are you comfortable?" You are as cozy as can be, even your favorite candle flickers on the table, emitting a warm floral aroma, he has seen to your every request without hesitation, though… there is one more thing he could do for you.

"Anything you need… I will provide for you… my dearest."

His voice projects softly through your earbuds, though he still kneels by your place on the couch and leans in to brush hair out of your face.

"Come lay with me," a barely audible whisper, but he complies nonetheless.

"Of course," carefully, he wedges himself between you and the couch cushions, laying one leg between yours and resting his head on your shoulder.

His breath tickles your skin and causes your face to flush; you dare not move in fear of him shifting too far away.

"How does this feel… I'm not putting… too much weight on you… am I?"

"Not at all. You could put all your weight on me and I'd be just as snug."

His little snickers echo through your ears, "Is that so?" Immediately, he lifts the blanket and straddles you, tucking his hands between your back and the supportive pillows, then once again leans his head on your shoulder. He must be able to tell how your heartbeat picked up, how your breathing became just slightly more rapid, as he scoots just a little closer, breath ghosting just behind your ear now. "Yes… this is much better."

You reposition the blanket and wrap your arms around him, releasing a contented sigh.

"I've got you trapped in my cage now… I think I'll keep you to myself."

"I'm fine with that," you laugh.

"Good girl."

Shivers travel down your spine, you know what he's often thinking of when he uses that nickname.

Though, as much as he sometimes likes to indulge in carnal desires, he very much cherishes the times where you hold one another, as you are now. He lives for moments like this, where there's nothing in the world but you, and him, slowly breathing in and out together. It's quite peaceful, and so quiet that he can usually hear whatever music you were listening to, though now he can hear nothing at all. "No music today, my dearest?"

"I'd much rather hear your voice."

Somewhat shocked, Gabriel pulls back and straightens out to look you in the eye. He lingers there, speechless for what seems like ages. Evidently, your own sweet nothings meant so much more than that to him. "I don't know… how you love me… like you do."

"How couldn't I? You do so much for me," you pull him in by the chin and kiss his forehead, "plus, you fit perfectly in my lap."

He leans back in for a tighter hug before pulling back just enough to nibble at the flesh of your neck, "I'll do so much more, too…"

Slowly he inches his way down your body, hands gliding restlessly over your sweater in search of the hem, until they finally snake their way underneath. His cold fingers leech the warmth from the heating pad before tossing it aside and pulling you closer by the waist. All the while his favorite pet names flickered and faded in your ears.

My darling

My dearest

My beloved

Mine.