#or at least not as much as they seem to without me

[yeyinde]

18+ | heavy noncon. implied kidnapping. Simon is not a good person.

What was supposed to be a casual hike turns into a nightmare when you step on a bear trap and the massive, terrifying man who set it up comes to get his catch. And unfortunately for you, he isn't he a kind stranger.

In fact, he oozes nothing but a rotten, gangrenous malice as he stares down at your helpless form. Taking a wicked, depraved sort of delight when he tells you he doesn't really see the point in letting food go to waste after you plead and beg for him to help you, to let you go.

At least—

Not without some incentive.

It's a dog eat dog world out there, after all, he says with slow, lax roll of his thick shoulder; words much too casual, too nonchalant, for the thread of cruel, mocking venality needling through. But from the way he stares at the congealing blood splashing up over the curve of your bare thigh, you work out pretty quickly what exactly it is you can barter with.

He's already staring at you like you're a piece of meat, anyway. Might as well sate his hunger for the kind that keeps you alive for a little while longer. And then you'll escape because that's the deal. He gets to whet his appetite and you—

You get to go home.

(but you should know better than to trust wicked men—)

because it really is dog eat dog, don't you know? And even old, grizzled wardogs like himself start to crave something sweet. Something they can sink their teeth into, and fuckin' hell, aren't you just the sweetest little pup he's ever seen? 'nough to give rotten men the biggest sweet tooth.

And he knows a deal is deal and he always keeps his word, but it really is too bad that his truck won't start, he tells you later on, fingers prodding into the swollen skin of your ankle, pressing cruelly against shattered bone until you howl. Otherwise he'd definitely let you go.

("maybe tomorrow," he adds, staring down at the mess he made of you spilling over his old mattress—aching something awful—and nudging your knee out of the way as he slips back between your slick, sticky thighs. "might start workin' then, birdie. But—"

He cocks his head to the side, eyes glinting like a blade as he gazes at your raw, swollen cunt; fingers dipping to catch his pink-tinged cum as it leaks out of you. Wetting them before smearing it over the deep, red puncture marks he bit into the tender meat of your thigh. It stings. Burns. But you don't think anything could ever hurt as much as your ankle—physically, of course, because his next words, the cruel coo in them, seem to rip you down the centre:

"—you better start thinkin' 'bout 'ow you're gonna pay me back for lettin' you stay 'ere, birdie," the mean twist of his mauled mouth at your hitching sob belies the mocking pantomime of compassion he scratches into his tone. And when your sore legs fall open further for him, he can't stop the flash of amusement from frothing over the edge when he huffs out a patronising good girl, pup. Maybe we can train you after all—)

[comicaurora]

hi, you seem to be drawing a lot. can you please tell me, will drawing ever become easy? or is it always a struggle?

(because for me, drawing seems like a neverending fight against artblock, and at this point, i start wondering if it's not really artblock, but instead it's just the reality of art making)

It's not so much that it becomes easy. It's more that you'll find new things about it that are hard.

Art will never become effortless because you will start finding new challenges to wrangle with, but the act of wrangling them is a good part of the fun. Finding new visual effects you struggle to capture or comprehend the shape of, let alone put down on paper. You might start off struggling to render shadows on a figure, and then as you progress you start wondering how to do shadows of foliage, or caustics of light projected through water, or how glowing eyes would cast shadows on a face, etc. New complexities reveal themselves as old struggles are mastered.

If you're struggling with something that feels like artblock, the problem might not be in your hands, but in your eyes. What to draw is at least as much of a challenge as how to draw it. If you notice your eyes snagging on small details or vistas and you catch yourself trying to work out how to capture that effect, that's your artist eyes at work, and the better you get, the weirder your artist eyes will make you.

There's an exercise my mom recommends that she got from her old teacher: three life drawings a day. Of anything - a chair, a glass of water, a tree, someone's dog, your own hand. I think this is less about honing your techniques and more about honing your eyes, training them to snag on everyday things and observe their complexities, the nuances, the way they really look, not just the way you think of them looking.

When you're a kid and you're drawing your first landscape, it's probably a house and a tree under a yellow sun in a blue sky. The tree looks like a lollipop, the house looks like a box with a hat, the sun is an egg yolk surrounded by lines, the sky is the bluest crayon you have. Maybe it has fluffy clouds in it if you were thinking ahead, cuz it's hard to draw white crayon or pencil over already blue drawings. This hypothetical drawing is a pure manifestation of art without artist's eyes; it is made entirely of what you understand things to look like, not how you see them. No real tree looks like a green lollipop. The sun is a blazing white ball that shades half of the dome of the sky in painfully bright white, and the sky is only blue in the loosest sense - even without clouds or sunsets confusing things, the sky will always fade to a lighter shade closer to the horizon. It is never uniform blue. Clouds usually look like shredded cottonballs around the edges, not fluffy rounded boubas.

This awareness extends to more complicated things. We know glass is clear. When we draw something made of glass, how can we capture that clarity? Do we just draw the outline, maybe some token specular highlights to show that it's catching the light? Or do we render the way it bends and distorts the image passing through it? We know gold is yellow and shiny; do we draw it as a yellow sparkly thing, or do we capture how it reflects the space around it? We know that water is blue and reflective. Do we draw it like we would draw a shiny blue car? Do we render a glass of water like a blue raspberry icee?

Actively perceiving the world as it is takes work and practice, but it's a vital component in all art - even completely fantastical art that is not at all drawn from life references. Skin has a particular luminosity to it, subcutaneous scattering of light that is inobvious if you just know that Skin Looks Like A Color. Even if you're painting a goblin or a mermaid or a centaur, capturing how the light hits their skin can make the difference between them looking like an action figure and looking like a living thing. If you're painting a landscape that isn't earth, it helps to have observed what earth's clouds and atmosphere really look like, how they catch and scatter the light. You have to know the rules in order to break the rules.

I can honestly say it never gets easy, but it does become a lot of fun, and if you're currently struggling to find the fun of it, it will get better the more you hone your eyes.

[yooniivrse]

moving in | myg

summary. in which moving in together isn't as simple as it seems, but no task is herculean with yoongi by your side

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationship au, angst if you read this with a magnifying glass

word count: 3k

content: oc and yoongi finally move in together / yoongi is the sweetest but oc also wants to kick is ass half the time

warnings: none :3

notes: i'm back from my break, did you guys miss me :> this was inspired by an ask by an anon which you can find here (tysm anon ur amazing). likes, reblogs, comments and feedback is always so so appreciated. enjoy my loves!

────

taglist | click here to join:

@petals4bangtan @futuristicenemychaos

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main masterlist

────

Privacy was a luxury in Yoongi's dorm. You had known this from the moment you first started visiting him here—how his space, while technically his, was never truly his own. There was always a member walking past his bedroom door, the faint hum of conversations drifting in from the common area, or the occasional loud clang from the kitchen at midnight.

You never minded it too much—at least, that’s what you have always told yourself. But when Namjoon walks in unannounced for the third time this evening, catching you and Yoongi curled up on the bed, you let out an exaggerated groan.

“You guys ever knock?” you tease, though there is a tired edge to your voice.

Namjoon blinked, looking apologetic as he took a step back. “Oh—uh, my bad. Was just looking for my headphones.”

Yoongi sighs next to you. He shifts his body, pulling his hand away from your waist to rest it under his head. “They’re in the studio, hyung,” he mutters without even opening his eyes.

Namjoon makes a face of realisation before nodding. “Rightt. Thanks, man.” He disappears just as quickly as he had entered, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

You sigh, turning your body and draping your arm across your boyfriend. “You know, for a bunch of guys who's lived together for this long, you’d think knocking would come naturally.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound deep and low. “You’d think.”

It's annoying when you can't even have the few days that Yoongi isn't burying himself with work to yourself completely. But though Yoongi agrees with your sentiment about his members, you know that you're roommates aren't much better.

You lean into his side, nestling yourself against his warmth as you put your thoughts to the side. His arm automatically drapes over your shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sleeve. The silence that follows is comfortable, lulling you into a sense of ease—until Yoongi speaks again.

“You know,” he starts, voice lazy but thoughtful, “we’d have more privacy if we moved out together.”

The words send a jolt of awareness through you.

You stiffen slightly but don’t pull away, choosing instead to focus on the way his fingers trace slow circles against your wrist. He has mentioned this before—moving out. Not just for himself, but for the both of you. You have always brushed it off, too scared to give it serious thought.

“I dunno…” you mutter, eyes flickering up to the jagged ceiling.

The shift in the air was subtle, but you feel it immediately. Yoongi’s fingers still, and when you chance a glance up at him, you notice how his expression has hardened slightly, his jaw tight.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” His tone isn’t harsh—it never is when it comes to you—but there was something pointed about it.

“I mean…” You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I just—I haven’t really thought about it seriously, I guess.”

Yoongi doesn’t reply right away. He just watches you, his dark eyes scanning your face like he's trying to read between the lines. “You haven’t?��

You swallow. “I mean, I have, but—”

“But?”

There is no malice in his voice, but the weight of his gaze makes you squirm. You exhale slowly.

"But...I don't know."

You're awfully conscious of the way Yoongi's chest moves up and down with every breath; awfully conscious of how his heartbeat is lost to the sound of your own nervous thoughts.

"Oh."

You expect him to continue speaking, but he doesn't, instead choosing to let the silence hang in the air.

The last thing you want is to hurt him in any shape or form, but you know you'll sound stupid if you put your thoughts into words. This isn't the first time Yoongi has brought up the idea of moving out together, and you've managed to evade giving him an answer every time. But the quiet drags on, becoming unbearable with the second and you give in.

“Yoongi, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t want to seem completely dependent on you.”

His eyebrows twitch. “What?”

“I mean, you already do so much for me,” you admit, fidgeting with the fabric of your hoodie. “I don’t want you thinking I can’t handle things on my own.”

Yoongi lets out a sharp breath, his head tilting slightly as he processes your words. “You think I’d care about that?”

You shrug, feeling silly. “I don’t know.”

Yoongi scoffs lightly, shaking his head. “You do realise I’m the one who keeps asking you to move in, right? It’s not like I feel obligated or something. I want you there.”

You bite your lip. “Yeah, but…”

His gaze flickers with something unreadable. “But what? If you genuinely don't like the idea, just tell me. I won't be offended.”

Yoongi would definitely be offended. Well, offended isn't the word he would use, but he'd be disappointed. It's a big deal for him to actually want to spend most of his days with someone who he knows he won't find himself constantly drained around.

But the last thing Yoongi wants is for you to be uncomfortable. Even if it stung a bit, he'd understand because it's you. He'd do anything for you.

You sigh. “I also don’t want you to get doxed or harassed because of me. What if someone spots us? What if it turns into a whole thing?”

Yoongi doesn't react right away. He simply watches you, his fingers tightening slightly around your wrist before he exhales. “You really think I’d let that stop me?”

You shift. “And besides,” you add quietly, “you’ve told me before that you need your own space—that people overstaying annoys you.” You glance up at him hesitantly. “What if I annoy you?”

Yoongi blinks. His lips part slightly, as if he's surprised you even had that thought. For a moment, he just stares at you.

“That’s different,” he said.

“How?”

“Because it’s you.”

Your breath hitches.

“I like having my own space,” he continues, voice softer now. “But I also like coming home to you. And yeah, people overstaying annoys me, but when have I ever wanted you to leave?”

You think back to all the times you've gotten up to leave his studio, only for him to pull you back down beside him. The times you’ve texted him that you were heading home from the dorms, only for him to insist you stay just a little longer.

Never.

The answer was never.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, the door swings open again.

This time, it's Taehyung.

“Oh, come on,” Yoongi groans, running his hand through his hair.

Taehyung blinks. “Uh—was just looking for my hoodie. My bad.”

As the door clicks shut once more, Yoongi turns back to you, deadpan. “If that’s not proof that we need to move out, I don’t know what is.”

You stare at him for a moment, then let out a breathy laugh.

“…Fine,” you mutter.

Yoongi’s eyes glint. “Fine?”

You sigh. “Fine. Let’s move out.”

A slow, satisfied smirk stretches across his lips. “Good,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly. His voice drops to a teasing whisper. “Because I already started looking at apartments.”

Your eyes widen. “Yoongi—”

He just grins, turning to fully wrap his hands around your figure.

────

Moving day comes a lot faster than you expect it to.

It's overwhelming, not just because of the sheer number of boxes but because of what those boxes mean. This isn’t just another visit to Yoongi’s place, nor is it a temporary stay.

This is different. Permanent.

And that scares you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, has been frustratingly calm about the whole thing.

He stands next to you in the elevator, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, looking completely at ease. Meanwhile, your heart pounds against your ribs as the floors tick past one by one. You fiddle with the keys in your hand, the ones Yoongi had given you just this morning.

“This is really happening, huh?” you murmur, half to yourself.

Yoongi glances down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You sound surprised.”

You exhale. “I am.”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You agreed to this, remember?”

“Yeah, but…” You hesitate. “It just feels surreal. Like, we’re actually moving in together. That’s a big deal.”

Yoongi hums in agreement but doesn’t seem nearly as fazed as you are. If anything, he looks… content. Maybe even excited, in his own quiet way.

The elevator doors ding open, revealing a long, well-lit hallway.

Yoongi leads the way, his stride casual, as if he has already memorised the path. When you finally reach the apartment door, he gestures towards the keys in your hand.

“Go on,” he says. “The first time opening the door should be yours.”

You glance at him, then at the door, suddenly feeling the weight of this moment settle over you.

Taking a breath, you slid the key into the lock and turned it. The mechanism clicks smoothly, the door creaking open to reveal your new home.

The first thing you notice is the vast emptiness that fills the walls.

The apartment itself is beautiful—modest yet modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows that bathe the space in natural light. The hardwood floors gleam under the afternoon sun, and the walls, still bare, seem to echo your movements as you step inside.

But there was nothing here. No furniture, no decorations, just an open space waiting to be filled.

You swallow, feeling oddly displaced. Everything is so...hollow. It's eerie.

Yoongi, again, seems unfazed. He steps past you, kicking off his shoes and letting out a satisfied sigh. “Not bad,” he muses, glancing around. “I forgot how much I liked empty spaces.”

You stare at him. “Are you serious? It’s so… bare.”

Yoongi smirks. “Exactly.”

You groan, setting your bag down. “Okay, well, you might be comfortable living like some kind of minimalist monk, but I need furniture.”

He chuckles, watching as you wander further into the apartment. You run your fingers along the smooth countertop of the kitchen island and sneak a peak into the—unfortunately empty—fridge, before making your way to the bedroom.

The bedroom is the emptiest of all.

The only thing in there is a single mattress on the floor, still wrapped in plastic. No bed frame, no pillows—just the sad, lonely mattress sitting in the middle of an otherwise vacant room.

You turn to Yoongi, unimpressed.

“Really?”

Yoongi grins. “It’s temporary.”

“You didn’t even get pillows?”

“I forgot.”

You sigh dramatically, placing your hands on your hips. “You know, for someone who planned this whole move, you’re really underprepared.”

Yoongi shrugs. “We’ll manage.”

You shake your head with a fond smile before wandering back into the main living space. It's strange—this apartment was supposed to be yours now, but it still feels so foreign. Like you're just visiting.

As if sensing your unease, Yoongi comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’ll get used to it,” he murmurs.

You lean into him instinctively. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His voice was warm, reassuring. “It’s just a space right now. We’ll make it a home.”

You exhale, feeling the tension in your chest loosen just a little.

For now, this is enough.

By the time the sun has set, exhaustion has settled deep into your bones. The day had been spent moving the essentials—clothes, toiletries, a few kitchen items—and while you haven’t even scratched the surface of fully furnishing the place, it already feels like you have done enough heavy lifting for a week.

Now, standing in the still near-empty bedroom, all you want is to curl up somewhere comfy—somewhere that wasn't just a mattress on the floor.

It looks even sadder in the dim light. No bed frame, no pillows—just a single, plastic-wrapped mattress in the middle of a room that feels far too spacious for what little was inside. The walls are bare, the windows uncovered, leaving the city lights to cast faint, shifting patterns against the walls.

Yoongi, as usual, seems unbothered. He tosses his phone onto the mattress, stretching his arms over his head as he looks around. “Not bad,” he muses.

You turned to him, unimpressed. “Not bad? Yoongi, we don’t even have blankets.”

“We have hoodies. Besides, you have me.”

“Oh my god.”

He smiles, clearly entertained by your misery. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” he reassures. “I was too busy making sure everything else got here today. I figured we could survive one night like this.”

You quirk an eyebrow at his words. “One night? You mean the whole week until the bed frame arrives?”

Yoongi’s smirk falters slightly as he purses his lips. “…Maybe.”

You groan dramatically, flopping down onto the mattress. The plastic crinkles beneath you, making the moment even more pathetic. “This is not how I imagined our first night living together,” you mutter.

Yoongi chuckles, toeing off his socks before sitting down next to you. “How did you imagine it?”

You turn your head to look at him. “I don’t know. Maybe something a little more… romantic? Cosy? With an actual bed?”

Yoongi hums, lying back beside you. “So, no romance in a bare room?”

“None,” you say firmly. “Absolutely zero.”

There was a beat of silence before Yoongi suddenly rolled over, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

“Yoongi—” you yelp in surprise, but he only buries his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“You said no romance,” he murmurs, voice laced with amusement. “So I’m just making sure you’re comfortable.”

You huff, feeling the faintest hint of a smile creeping onto your lips. His body is warm against yours, and despite the lack of pillows or blankets, there is a surprising sense of comfort in simply being here with him.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter.

Yoongi hums, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “And you’re complaining less now.”

You roll your eyes, though you don’t bother arguing. Because the truth is, despite everything—the bare room, the mattress on the floor, the emptiness surrounding you—you still feel at home.

And that has nothing to do with the apartment itself.

It has everything to do with him.

────

The next day, after waking up sore from sleeping on a mattress with no pillows, you and Yoongi ventured out to buy furniture.

It should have been an exciting experience—picking out the things that would turn your apartment into a home. But instead, it became clear within the first fifteen minutes that you and Yoongi have vastly different approaches to shopping.

Yoongi? He was practical. Minimalistic. The type to point at the first couch he saw and say, “That one’s fine,” with zero hesitation.

You, on the other hand, wanted something comfortable, something that felt lived-in before you had even sat on it.

Which was why you're currently standing in the middle of a showroom, arms crossed as you glare at the stiff-looking grey couch Yoongi is sitting on.

“You actually like this?” you ask incredulously.

Yoongi leans back slightly, patting the armrest. “It’s firm. Good back support.”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“It’s a couch, not a cloud.”

“It should at least be soft enough to sit on for more than ten minutes without feeling like you’re in a waiting room.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

You scoff. “Says the man who literally naps more than anyone I know.” You gesture to the couch. “Can you actually see yourself sleeping on this?”

Yoongi pause. His lips press together like he wants to argue, but then he slowly looks down at the couch as if re-evaluating his choices.

You can see the exact moment he realises that you're right.

“…Maybe not,” he mutters.

You smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

With a victorious huff, you grab his hand and pull him toward the other section of the showroom, stopping in front of a much softer, cosier-looking couch. You plop down on it immediately, sinking into the cushions with a satisfied sigh.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow as he sits down next to you. “This is your dream couch?”

“Try lying down.”

Yoongi shoots you a look but does as you say, shifting until he is lying back against the cushions. You watch as his eyes flutter shut for a moment, his body visibly relaxing.

“…Okay,” he admits. “It’s nice.”

You grin. “Exactly.”

Yoongi cracks one eye open. “But it’s too big.”

You scoff. “It’s a normal-sized couch.”

“For a family of six.”

“For two people who want to be comfortable.”

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his temples like this was the hardest decision he has ever had to make. You know he's being dramatic on purpose, but you also know he doesn’t actually mind letting you win. He just likes to put up a fight first.

“Fine,” he mutters, sitting up. “We’ll get this one.”

You beam. “Thank you for admitting I was right. I know, I know, I'm so amazing.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, unable to fight the smile on his face, but doesn’t argue.

Furniture shopping continues in much the same way. You bicker over dining tables (Yoongi wanted a small one, and you wanted a bigger one “for guests,” which made him scoff because, in his words, “What guests?”). You argue over rugs (“Why do we need one?” “Because it makes the space feel cosy, Yoongi!”).

But despite the back-and-forth, it wasn’t frustrating. If anything, it was fun.

By the end of the day, after picking out a bed frame, a coffee table, and a bookshelf you have absolutely no room for but insist on getting anyway, you both collapse onto one of the display beds.

“We should’ve just bought a fully furnished place,” Yoongi mumbles, staring at the ceiling.

“And miss out on all these cute domestic moments? Never.”

Yoongi glances at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Cute, huh?” he murmurs.

You grin. “Very cute.”

Yoongi sighs dramatically but subtly reaches over, intertwining his fingers with yours.

And just like that, your new home was slowly coming together.

[pellucid-constellations]

A rejected bond. A happiness unfounded.

Azriel x Reader (760 words, based on a request!, warnings: vague backstory, angst)

Masterlist here

~~

Azriel held your stare, his breath quivering with each exhale. 

“What?” he said again—not a question, really. 

Your chest heaved as you opened your mouth once more. “I can’t.” 

“You… can’t?” Azriel did ask this time, tongue darting out between his lips as his brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. What does that mean?” 

“I can’t be your mate. I can’t accept that bond, Azriel.” 

His hands, reaching for you in some semblance of connection, curled at the fingers. His joints seemed to cry out as he moved without full consciousness, and you watched as the scars retracted. It would be easier to keep your gaze locked on his hands, but when he spoke next the pain in his voice had you searching for his face once more. 

“I know—I must not be what you were expecting.” 

No. No, no, no. That was not why.

Your throat was beginning to close. You fought the urge to claw at it. 

“I can… I can be different. Different than I have been. I’ve just—I’ve loved you for so long. I don’t know why I—the bond could make it different,” Azriel almost pleaded. A tendril of his hair wove down across his forehead as his shadows anxiously twisted around him. 

In his eyes, you saw the boy in the basement. You saw the insecurity and fear. You saw that he was trying, and that’s why this hurt even more. 

Azriel never spoke without his thoughts clearly assembled, but as his words spewed out in a low, broken tone, their disorganization was the toll this was taking on him. 

“This doesn’t have to do with you, Azriel. This isn’t about you being different,” you explained. Each word hurt as it left you. 

You wanted him. 

They would hurt him. 

Azriel blinked, several times, and then took a step toward you. You tracked his feet as he moved. “We could—” he shook his head, staring at his hands “—take it slow. Or—or it doesn’t have to be anything other than the tether. We can stay friends.” 

They wouldn’t allow that. 

Azriel didn’t know that you were already spoken for. That the people in control were late to pick up their spoils, actually, and this was the worst possible time for happiness to be dangled in front of you.

You needed to reject the bond. 

There couldn’t be a trace of it when they came to collect you. 

You settled your resolve, reminding yourself that no matter how much it hurt you to do this—no matter how much the glossiness of Azriel’s eyes made you weak—you needed to protect him. You weren’t free to do as you pleased. You never were, and this temporary reprieve had always been a ploy to remind you of that. 

Finding your mate was never supposed to happen. 

You were never born to be happy. 

“I’m leaving,” you finalized, bringing your hands behind your back as your fists clenched and your nails imprinted on your skin. “We—I won’t be coming back.” 

Something raw ripped from Azriel’s throat. “Because of the bond?” 

“I was never supposed to stay here,” you replied in place of an answer. “This was never my home.” 

“But it could be. It could be, with or without me. I would make sure you were happy.” 

It sounded so simple coming from his mouth. Everything sounded better when he said it. 

“I don’t think that’s possible.” 

The bond, still so fresh and alight within you, cried and pulled at your being. It was unhappy with you, the cauldron or the mother or whatever entity that was playing this cruel joke on you displeased that you were not also playing along. 

It would calm, you reminded yourself—when you were home, everything felt calm. Or, everything felt still, at least. Stagnant. Never moving. 

“Tell me what you need me to do,” Azriel begged. “I’ll do anything. Don’t leave.” 

He didn’t realize that it wasn’t your choice—that he could beg and plead, but in the end, his mate was never free to make that kind of decision. 

You couldn’t reject the bond in front of him. You couldn’t bear witness to that kind of pain. 

But because he already looked so ruined—because he was still reaching for you, still inching forward as your head pounded—you provided a bit of context to the disaster. 

“I don’t have a choice,” you revealed. 

Azriel searched your eyes with an amounting determination. 

You couldn’t reject the bond yet, but you knew it was only a matter of time. 

Azriel would hold onto it until that final day. 

[cherriegyuu]

whispers of desire | c.sc | part one

pairing: incubus seungcheol x f!reader  genre: smut, angst, fluff - minors do not interact word count: 7.3k summary: when you cut a deal with the demon king, the man who shows up to help is nothing like you imagined warnings: mentions of god, demons and religion, infertility, infidelity, knives, breeding kink, masturbation, creampie, dirty talking ish, begging, multiple orgarms, unprotected sex, piv, forced orgasm. jeonghan (idk, he deserves a warning too)

a/n: and finally after i don't even know how many months, i finished part one. i really want to thank @ssinboo who not only helped me brainstorm this, but who motivated me into picking it up again. @joonsytip and @nothoughtsjustfic who read it over and promised me that it was good. thank you so much to all three of you, this one would have never left my wips if not for you. i truly hope you enjoy this and if you do please leave comment, i would love to know you thoughts about it! it's 17 minutes past midnight, but i'm going to count this as a valentine's day special

You looked once again at the waiting room—the light gray walls, the black furniture, the small splashes of color here and there. It was mostly modern and imponent but dark. You felt out of place in your bright yellow sweater and almost white pants. You looked like an egg, but when you realized what you had done, it was too late. You were already in the Uber, getting the most incredulous look from the driver. 

The watch on your wrist seemed to mock you. You arrived too early for your appointment, too nervous to stay any longer in your apartment, too queasy to go to the nearby cafe and waste some time. 

You had been sitting on that extremely comfortable couch for 10 minutes, the pretty receptionist giving you suspicious looks followed by insincere smiles. You were so close to just getting up and walking out the door.

It had been a stupid idea. A desperate attempt at one last resort to reaching your dream. The one thing you wanted in life since you were sixteen. But it was, indeed, stupid. How was it possible that a man without a last name, who obviously wasn’t a doctor, could help you get pregnant? Even if he happened to have a magic dick, which you doubted, there was still no chance of you getting pregnant. The problem wasn’t on the sperm donor, it was in you. 

For years, you tried getting pregnant. During the first year you and your husband, now ex-husband, tried in the most natural way: fucked every chance you got, at the most random places, tracking your cycles every month. You knew that for some people getting pregnant took a little more time, so at first, you didn’t think much of it. You managed to convince yourself that the reason why you weren’t getting pregnant was because you had just gotten off birth control and sometimes — most times — the hormones messed up a little too much with the body.

After a year, something felt strange, and little red signs started to go off in your head. It wasn’t natural to take that long, at least according to everyone you knew, so you set a meeting with the doctor and did all the tests in the book. When the results came back and showed that you were infertile it was like the world came crashing down.

In life, many of your plans failed and many of your dreams were taken from you, however being a mother was one that you always carried with you. It was a dream that was yours, truly yours and you didn’t need anyone to make it happen for you. Of course, you couldn’t make a baby on your own, but in the end, it was always your choice. If you didn’t have a husband, you could go to a sperm bank and just choose someone.

Along with your dream, your marriage was also one that didn’t last long. After the initial shock of not being able to have a baby slowly started to pass and the fog that clouded your mind started to lift, you started to think of other ways you could become a mother.  Adoption seemed like a natural path. Your husband, however, didn’t agree with the idea, which led to many fights and eventually a divorce.

The idea of adoption didn't leave you, so you sought out ways to adopt on your own. While the adoption process in itself was excruciatingly difficult as a married person, by yourself was nearly impossible. You went to many people and asked for advice on how to proceed, how to present yourself, what to say and do in front of the social workers. All of them said the same thing “the chances of you getting approved for adoption are very low”.

Every day that went by, with each breath you took, you felt as if the dream of being a mother escaped you, like sand slipping through your fingers.

One day, like many others, you were searching for ways to adopt as a single parent when you came across a forum post talking about an unnamed man who could get anyone to do anything, even things that seemed impossible. You had snorted at the post and almost closed the tap when the word pregnancy seemed to flash in front of your eyes, like a moth drawn to a flame. After you saw it, there was no way you could have closed the tab and moved on to something different. 

You read post after post, comment, after comment, about all of these women who had gotten pregnant after losing all hope. All of them mentioned the same name, Jeonghan. There was no last name. On the very last post was a phone number.

There wasn't enough time to question yourself or your actions, the next thing you knew you had the phone pressed to your ear, setting up a meeting for later that day.

The fact that you were able to set an appointment on such short notice should have made alarms ring in your head. But the alarms only went off while you sat in the waiting room. 

You suddenly stood up and walked to the pretty secretary who was hiding behind the computer.

“Sorry, hi” you waited until she looked at you, and the same polite smile greeted you “Something came up, I need to leave… I'm really sorry”

As the words left your lips the door on the other side of the waiting room opened. A man with a kind smile and hair long enough to cover his forehead greeted you. Despite his smile being inviting, his eyes told an entirely different story. 

“Please, come in”

The little alarms inside your mind suddenly turned silent and the need to flee turned into the desire to follow him inside that office. 

You turned to look at the receptionist, who in return offered you an encouraging nod and smile.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I had some files that needed attention”

The man, who you could assume was Jeonghan, pulled a chair for you to sit on. He only let go of the chair once you were seated.

“It's okay”

His office was very similar in style to the waiting room, except for the leather chair and the industrial-looking desk. There was no computer, no bookshelf, no degree attached to the wall, just some creepy paintings that looked maybe a little too dark and tenebrous to an office. His desk was also empty of any files, phones, and pens. It was hard to believe that he was going over some files when there was nothing to look at.

“How can I help you today?”

For a second his eyes turned dark, entirely black, before going back to the dark brown color. Eyes of a snake, the words flashed in front of you. Your hold on the straps of your purse tightened until your knuckles turned to white.

It was a mistake going there.

It took an enormous amount of strength to push your body into a standing position.

“I'm sorry, I can't stay” you managed to force the words out, doing your best to smile and sound apologetic “Something came up”

Jeonghan leaned forward, his chin resting on his hand.

“Now, we know that's a lie” there was humor in his voice “You came here for a baby, so do us both a favor and sit down”

It was like your will to leave the room was suppressed by a hand pushing you down back on the chair. That same hand seemed to be holding you in place.

“See? That wasn't so hard”

The back of your neck started to grow cold, your hands sweaty. Your heartbeat with the force of a horse. His eyes turned into snake eyes once again. You felt your entire body grow cold. This time he flashed his eyes for a little more than a second.

“If you promise to be good, I'll stop holding you down” he raised his eyebrows at you, his tone almost bored now “Okay?”

It was a strange sight, a man who was around your age — or at least you thought so –, with soft features to have such eyes. Strange didn't even start to describe it, terrifying was a more precise word, and yet, you weren't scared. 

Perhaps you were at first, after all your initial reaction had been to escape, but while sitting there looking at him you were just curious.

“If you can stop with the eyes,” you used your index and middle finger to point at your own eyes “sure, we'll talk”

Jeonghan pouted but complied. In a millisecond the snake eyes were gone at the same time the pressure on your shoulders subsided. 

“You don't know how to have fun, do you?”

You didn’t bother to answer, you knew that no matter what you said those words wouldn’t make any difference to him and you were sure that your definition of fun was entirely different from his.

“So, a child. That's what you want, your deepest desire?” Jeonghan raised a hand to stop you from talking as if he changed his mind “Of course it is, you don’t have to say it”

It was the way he said it that made a shiver run through your spine. You shouldn’t have gone there. You should have asked someone else to go with you, though who could have been that person was unknown to you.

“Did you bait me into coming here?”

“Well, yeah” he laughed “I'm sure you saved that forum but if you go back there won't be much to see. Let's be realistic here and say that what you want, can be done”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. It wasn't a reaction to what he had said, it was to what you had believed. 

“You were so pathetically desperate that it was so easy getting to you” Jeonghan taunted you “Just one word, one post on a random website was enough to get you here and so fast too! Was it a couple of hours ago?”

Biting your bottom lip was the only possible way to keep your mouth shut, to keep the very much not polite fuck you in the silence of your mind. You tried to get up again, not really willing to sit there and be mocked, but as soon as you made the slightest movement you felt that hand again on your shoulder holding you down, this time much more forceful than the previous one.

“You said that we were going to talk, so, let’s talk”

“I want to go,” you said between your teeth “now”

Jeonghan tilted his head to the side, his snake eyes making an appearance again.

“Silly girl, you should have listed to your grandma when she warned you about what your wishes could bring” a sickening smile made its way to his face, paired with his eyes made your stomach drop all the way down to your toes “Now you can only leave when I saw so”

A sudden memory crossed your mind, one from your childhood. Of you sitting in your grandma’s lap when you couldn’t be older than seven. She said don’t wish for impossible things, you never know who or what could be listening. Your grandma was catholic, always with her rosary in her hand, or wrapper around her wrist or on her neck.

It became painfully obvious who Jeonghan was. From the snake eyes, the smile, how graceful he looked.

“Shit” the curse was almost silent.

He smiled once again, his eyes back to normal. It was all the confirmation you needed from him.

Nights had become a lonely part of the day, not that they were eventful before the divorce but at least you weren't always by yourself. 

Somehow you had allowed yourself to become one of those people who are only friends with their husband's friends so when the divorce happened it was obvious that most Of them — in this case, all of them — stayed with your ex-husband. You also hadn't really helped the situation when you closed yourself off. It had become too much, finding out that you were infertile, a possible affair from your husband, and the inevitable divorce. It was only natural for you to isolate yourself.

It seemed though that not many people seemed to understand it. Your so-called friends, who you cried with when the results came back, seemed to think that crying over was ridiculous, that one week was more than enough to move on from the entire thing, it's not like you don't have a life outside of this dream. 

And while all of that was true, it was much easier saying it than doing it. You felt as if you were spiraling down with nothing to hold onto, without anyone by your side. 

So, nights by yourself, with a bottle of wine and some takeout had become your new normal.

You were in the kitchen when you heard a faint knock on the door. Since visitors were few and you weren't expecting anyone, you assumed that it was on your neighbor. Someone probably knocking with a little more strength than necessary. It wasn't unusual. Your neighbor had loud and often drunk friends you had gotten used to their shenanigans during the three years you lived there.

All you did was keep doing the dishes, swaying your body from side to side with the music you had been playing in the background as you tried your best to forget that entire week and how you had willingly walked into a pile of shit but had no idea of how to get out of it.

The sound of the door opening made you close the faucet. A look at the clock above the door told you that there was no way for your neighbors to be back yet, not when you had heard them leave less than an hour before. You didn’t know why you thought that it could have been them. There was no doubt that the opened door was in your apartment.

You took a knife from the holder, wrapping your hand tightly around the handle. Your hand was still wet from doing the dishes so you held onto the knife as strongly as you could, until your knuckles turned white.

The one good thing about old apartments is that there were certain places that cracked and you knew exactly where those were, so you also knew how to avoid them. Whoever was in your apartment didn’t.

A small part of your brain hoped that it was your ex-husband. If it was, the worst thing that would happen was for you to look like an idiot in front of him, for the millionth time since you met him. Looking stupid was much much better than having to deal with an intruder or a murderer.

You took one last breath before pushing your bedroom door fully open.

“Don’t you dare throw that knife at me”

A man in a purple suit stood in the center of your room. His hair was bright red, pushed back. He looked like he had come out of one of those comic books your brother read as a child. He had your wedding album in his hand. He went through the pages, a pout in his lips and he scanned all the pictures, assessing what he was seeing.

“It’s not polite to hold a knife at your guest,” he said matter of factly.

“Who the fuck are you?” your grip on the handle tightened as if such a thing was even possible to begin with.

He turned the photo album to you, showing you a picture of yourself alone, smiling after throwing the bouquet at your wedding. It was a spontaneous picture, a true smile. That woman in the picture was an entirely different person. Looking at her it was hard to believe that you had been her at some point in time.

“You looked happier here” he pointed out, turning the album back to himself, still pouting “I don’t think she’d hold a knife at a guest”

“Who are you?” you demanded again, your voice louder, desperate.

The man rolled his eyes at you, finally closing the book and throwing it on your bed.

“Think about it, we both know you’re smart” he lightly raised his eyebrows at you “A little over a week ago you had a weird… dream? That’s what you made yourself think, wasn’t it?”

For a moment it was hard to pull air inside your lungs.

You thought that you had gone crazy. You clearly remembered getting out of the apartment, of going downtown in an Uber, of the waiting room, of talking to Jeonghan. But you didn’t remember walking out of the building or how you got home. You just… somehow found yourself back in your bed, in your pajamas in the middle of the night. The clock marked 3:33 AM.

“That was Jeonghan’s fault so I won’t hold it over your head too much. He likes to play tricks like that”

He sat on your bed, arms stretched back, thighs parted. A cocky smile on his lips and you could swear that your legs melted a little when you noticed that he had nothing under the suit jacket.

“Who are you?” you asked again, this time your voice wasn’t as loud or as demanding.

The man raised his eyebrows again and you could swear that it did something to you, tickling a place you didn’t know it needed to be tickled. He moved his chin lightly as if pointing to the knife. You sighed and put the knife down, holding it closer to your body. But that wasn't enough for the man, he pointed at the dresser. You rolled your eyes but did as asked. You didn't dare to get closer to him though. You simply crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against it. 

"I'm Seungcheol," the man said, only when he was sure that there was no chance of you stabbing him "Choi Seungcheol"

"I didn't know demons had last names"

His pout was still in place, as he seemed to be thinking of what to say next.

"We're civil enough, though me coming in without your permission might not be the best proof of character" he was quick to add when you opened your mouth to object. 

It didn't matter how much you tried, nothing came to mind when you thought about your conversation with Jeonghan. All of it was a big blank. You remembered getting there, him scaring you, the realization of who he was but nothing after that.

“The word you’re looking for is demon king,” he said. 

His eyes seemed to assess you, each and every movement you made. Seungcheol’s eyes never left you, not even for a second. When you moved to the chair on the opposite side of the room he followed you, adjusting his own body he would be seated directly in front of you. 

If your memory served you right, which at that point you had no idea, Jeonghan seemed to know what you were thinking. You were inclined to think that he couldn’t actually read your thoughts because according to Seungcheol, again if you could take his words for anything, demons too were civil and would just be way too invasive, but he was awfully good at knowing exactly what you were thinking. But then again, Jeonghan seemed to know way too much in the first meeting. Were the files he was looking at something like your life’s history? Where you were born, about your parents, your first boyfriend, your college crush, your husband, and everything that happened after?

You did your best not to focus too much on the demon king thing. If you did, your mind would take you somewhere else entirely and you weren’t sure if you could go there at that moment. Actually, you were sure you shouldn’t, especially because if you did the man in front of you, or a demon, would probably laugh. And being laughed at wasn’t something you were ready for at the moment.

“Okay,” you said slowly, exhaling all the air in your lungs all at once “Jeonghan is the demon king”

Seungcheol nodded, a small smile on his lips as he was proud of a child who had just given a correct answer. 

“That makes you…?”

“An incubus”

You closed your eyes for a second, folding your legs in front of you. Incubus… the demon who would sleep with women in their sleep and get them pregnant, and these women birthed demon-like children. 

Fantastic.

“So, magic dick,” you said, half not believing what you were saying, on how easily it seemed for you to understand it all “Great” 

That seemed to pull out an honest laugh out of Seungcheol, to the point a dimple made its way into his cheek. You couldn't help but smile along with him. 

“Something along those lines, yes”

He stood up, his eyes no longer filled with laughter and amusement. They had turned darker, hungry even. At that very second you felt like a prey under his eyes. You bit your bottom lip and he got closer to you, his eyes focused on your lips as he moved deliberately slowly to get to you. It seemed that your room was much, much, bigger than it actually was, almost like there was an entire runaway between him and you. 

You stood up as well, though that was probably a bad idea, considering how wobbly your legs felt. 

Seungcheol smiled, not in the cute and almost condescending way of before, but in a way that was much darker and held so many promises at the same time. He took your hand, pulled you towards the center of the room, walking backward.

“So, this is it? No flirting, no nice words, no dinner. Just straight-up sex” 

You hoped that your tone was light, teasing. Though there was nothing light about the way you were feeling. The few inches of your skin that were under his touch felt like were on fire. 

It had been a long time since you were with anyone, your husband was the last one a year and a half before. That wasn't to say that you hadn't found any sort of pleasure, but it had always been by yourself.

You couldn't help but wonder if part of the heat on your skin came from the lack of contact or if it was because of him. Something told you that it was a mix of both. 

“Well, you had dinner before I even got here and I thought you holding a knife was flirting”

Seungcheol circled you. The hand that held Yours suddenly pressed on your stomach, holding you against his firm chest. He pressed his nose to the crook of your neck. Giving him more access to your skin felt almost natural.

You felt his lips on the back of your neck. It started as a chaste kiss, followed by the burn of his teeth sinking into your skin and then soothed by his tongue flat over the space he had just bitten. 

“Are you a vampire?” you hoped your voice sounded steady but even to your ears it was breathy, close to a moan. The thing… the man… had barely touched you and you were ready to just melt under him. 

Seungcheol’s chest vibrated against your back and he leaned into your neck once again, now biting the other side. 

“Never met one of those, but if you want, I can become one for the night”

It suddenly crossed your mind “would he do anything I ask?” but you didn’t have it in you to ask. More than that, you didn’t know what to ask. You wanted too much but at the same time, you weren't sure where to begin. 

Slowly, Seungcheol ran his hand down your body. You felt your core tighten at the proximity, wetness slowly damping your panties. You were in a haze, one you didn’t want to come out of. 

“Tell me what you want. Whatever you want, however, you want it. It’s all yours”

It was like he had somehow heard your thoughts. Was that also part of his abilities? Magic dick and mind reading? Seemed like good powers to have. 

He nuzzled your neck again, this time placing kisses all over your skin as he slid down the strap of your shirt and continued his discovery of your skin. But your shoulder was not the place you wanted to feel him the most, it was not the spot that was craving for attention. 

Seungcheol ran his nose over your shoulder, the curve of your neck, up to your ear. 

“Ah, not so sweet and innocent after all” the hot breath over your skin made your entire body flame up. 

Finally, he lowered his hand, going under the elastic band of your shorts. He roughly rubbed his palm over your covered clit as his other hand went up to your breast, tugging at the hard nipple.

“You’re this wet and we barely even started?” he nibbled on your ear “You were all brave with that knife but all you can think about now is my magic dick filling you over and over and over again. Right, sweetheart?”

He pushed your panties to the side, his finger finally rubbing over your sensitive clit. A whimper left your lips as he was exactly where you needed, but it was far from enough. 

“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you”

He circulated your slit with two fingers. Once, twice, three times. 

“Please” you whispered. 

You felt his smile at the same time he pushed his fingers into you, your arousal more than enough to suck him in. You sucked in a moan as he picked up speed with his fingers, then another when his palm pressed over your clit adding another layer of pleasure. 

“Make that pretty noise for me again, sweetheart,” he asked, his voice low, though commanding “Let me hear you”

You tried your best to stay quiet, to not make any sound, and let the only sound in the room be the almost obnoxious noise of his fingers slipping in and out of you. But when Seungcheol found that one spot, that tiny piece of skin that made your mind almost go blank it was impossible to be silent. 

The sound coming out of you was pathetic, each new moan getting louder as you felt your abdomen cramp. The louder you got, the faster he moved his fingers. He didn’t stop pumping his fingers, didn’t stop pressing his palm on your clit, until the tide finally broke loose. 

You tried to shut your legs, suddenly the stimulation was too much at once, but Seungcheol was willing to let that happen. He kicked your feet apart, using his own knees to keep yours proudly open. 

Your orgasm hit you harder than ever before, your body convulsing in his grip, shaking as each new wave of pleasure hit you, somehow stronger than before. Seungcheol held you together until your body calmed down. A moan that could have been easily mistaken for a sob, came out of your lips, a light tremor in your legs, though you were certain that it was no longer visible. 

Seungcheol slowly guided your body towards the bed, both of his hands on your hips, steadying you. He sat you down on the bed and took a couple of steps back. He didn’t say anything as he opened the button on his suit and pulled it off his shoulder, tossing it aside on the chair to his left. 

He was teasing you, that much was obvious. Under normal circumstances you’d have looked away but as he unbuttoned his pants you couldn’t force yourself to look away. Your mind was in a trance by him, he had your undivided attention and he loved it. 

His movements were deliberately slow, a cocky grin making its way to his face as he noticed your eyes following the movements of his hands. 

The only piece of clothing covering Seungcheol was his underwear, though it did very little to disguise his erection. Your mouth watered at the sight, a nagging feeling on the back of your mind telling you to get down on your knees in front of him and take all of him into your mouth - or at least as much as it could fit anyway. 

Seungcheol laughed as he finally pushed the last piece of cotton off. You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning at the sight of him on full display. Every inch of his devilish body, in full glory, was mesmerizing. You felt you pussy clench around nothing as Seungcheol started to pump his dick. 

“We’ll have enough time to play later tonight,” he moved closer to you, standing in between your legs, his cock was close to you face that you simply inch forward and have him like you wanted, he had different ideas though “but right now I want to know what it feels like to be buried deep inside that sweet, sweet, pussy”

You reached down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. It was only when you reached for the elastic band of your shorts that you felt the embarrassment creeping up every inch of your body. 

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t hide yourself from me”

He lightly pushed you onto the bed, his knee pressing against your center and he scooped you up on the bed. He grabbed you by the hips and flipped you so that your face was pressed into the mattress. 

He pushed your shorts down, though not boring to take them off all the way down. Seungcheol straddled your legs and he teased your pussy with the tip of his cock. Running it over the slick entrance but never fully pushing it inside. 

You tried to change the position in a way to force him to just sink in but he was having none of that. He gripped your head by your hair, pulling it back until your ass up in the air, your back arched in a way that should be painful but somehow all it did was heighten your pleasure. 

“Beg” he whispered against your ear, his voice deliciously low.

“What?” you breathed out as he continued to tease you, your body moving along with his, a new whimper escaping every time he almost pushed inside. 

“I’m not going to make it that easy for you” he laughed “You wanna be fucked? I’ll fuck in ways you can’t even imagine. But you’re going to have to beg”

In any other situation, in any other moment of your life, you’d have felt embarrassed by his demand, to some extent would even have felt angry towards it. But right in that second, with the promise of what was to come, saying a few words sounded like a fair price to pray. 

“Please, please, Seungcheol” you begged, voice dripping with need and honey as you moved your hips wanting nothing more than to just be filled “just fuck me, fill me up. All of me is yours…” for the night.

He didn’t let you finish, pushing his cock into your throbbing pussy. There was no time to adjust. Seungcheol drove his dick into you again and again, each thrust harder than the previous one. He pulled your arms back, holding them against his chest with his own. 

Each sound that left your mouth was increasingly louder but you didn’t care in the slightest. Seungcheol’s grunts behind you, the slapping of his skin against yours every time he drove into you was intoxicating.

“Oh my god” you chanted over and over again

“No, no, not god” he laughed, biting the soft skin of your shoulder “He can't help you now”

He snaked a hand around your waist directly to your clit, massaging it in slow circles, in high contrast to his dick. The pressure was just perfect, his pace never faulting. 

An orgasm hit you yet again, without notice, this time not as hard as the first one, but still enough to have you shaking to the core. Seungcheol held you even tighter, his pace relentless as he searched for his own high. 

You felt his warm cum splurged into you, too much of it. 

Your body felt limp on the bed, all energy drained out of you, not a single drop left. You turned, looking at the ceiling, trying to steady your breathing, waiting for the tremors to pass when you felt Seungcheol his hand over your thigh. 

He pushed your shorts and panties all the way down, tossing them on the floor with a mute sound. He spread your legs and smiled proudly, seemingly happy with his work. It only lasted a second though, as a frown took over his features. 

“You’re wasting it, sweetheart” he tsked “We can’t have that, now can we?”

You felt his hand on your sensitive cunt and tried to flinch away but he didn't bulge. His finger grazed over your clit before he pushed them into you. You held his wrist, trying to push his hand away. 

“No, it’s too much” you shook your head, pleading “Please, I can’t, please”

He laughed at your words, pinning the hand that held his wrist over your head. Seungcheol kissed your breast, taking the nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, and blowing on it a second later, all while he pumped his fingers in your pussy, pushing back inside all the cum that had dripped out. 

“You can” you bit your lower lip and tugged at it “and, most importantly, we both know you want it”

You could only shake your head as the pleasure became too much, almost unbearable. Almost. You felt yet another orgasm build up again, like your entire body was throbbing, closing itself tightly before it finally broke free.

Seungcheol swallowed your scream, kissing your lips, neck, and shoulders as your body spasmed. Your quiet whimpers were the only sound in the room. He only pulled his fingers out of you when you calmed down completely.

“That’s it” he kissed your cheek, letting go of your hands and using them to hold his head so he could look down at you “See, I told you you could it”

Out of the possible outcomes of the previous night waking up to a mop of red hair on the other side of the bed wasn’t one of them. You were certain that when you woke up you’d realize that the night had been a dream — the most real one you had ever had in your life but that was beside the point. 

Just for good measure, you pressed your index finger to the shoulder of the man. Warm and soft skin was under your finger.

Okay, not a dream then.

You turned on your back, facing the ceiling of your bedroom. The night played vividly in your mind. The way Seungcheol pressed the first kiss to the back of your neck and how that alone was enough to make you go crazy under his touch. Not only that, how you were so willing to completely let yourself go to him, how every time he whispered in your ear, chills ran down your entire body and you could feel him everywhere.

You couldn’t help but wonder if all of your emotions had been heightened because he was…. him. A demon. Or if you were just so touch-starved that the smallest caress was enough to drive you over the edge.

Most of all, you couldn’t look past all how you had been so incredibly reckless. A random man who looked like he had gotten out of some comic book suddenly showed up in your room — mind you without using the door — and you somehow, for whatever reason, thought that it was a good idea to have sex with him. And then, as if all of that wasn’t enough, you still fell asleep by his side like it was the most normal thing in the world like he was someone you could trust entirely.

You covered your eyes with your arm, a groan leaving your lips.

There was still the whole “deal with the demon king” part that you were yet to think about.

It seemed unfair that you couldn’t remember what you agreed on. You should have the chance to prepare for whatever was to come, didn’t you? The demon king, or Jeonghan, you weren’t sure how you should address him, was well… unfair.

“Are you usually this loud so early in the morning?”

Your entire body jumped on the bed and a scream died in your throat. For a couple of minutes, you had been so lost in your mind that you forgot that Seungcheol was by your side at all.

His voice in the early morning, just after waking up, was almost made out of honey, velvety, tingling in your ears. By your side, Seungcheol had turned to you, his eyes barely open, his full lips pulled almost in a pout, a few strands of hair covering his face. You had to grip the sheets closer to your body just so you could suppress the desire to move them aside.

Your eyes moved slightly down, to his half-exposed chest. Another flash of the night before crossed your mind, of him over you, the way the chain around his neck hung just over your nose, how you used it to pull him to you again.

“You look cute when you blush,” he said with a lazy smile on his lips. You felt your cheeks warm but didn’t think it was enough to cause any visible change. 

Seungcheol folded his arm, holding his head up. The sleepy smile he gave you was the most delicious thing you had ever seen, it was enough to take your breath away all over again. You were happy that you were still in bed, otherwise there was a chance that your legs might have given in under you.

“I didn’t think you’d stay” was all you said as you swung your feet out of the bed, looking for the pajamas that were lost somewhere on the floor.

It was on the other side of the room, how it had ended up there was beyond you. You gripped the sheet closer around your body but you were only able to move one step away from the bed before you felt it being pulled back.

“You know, I already saw everything there’s under those sheets” you didn’t turn to him but you could hear the smile in his voice “In fact, I did a lot more than just look at it”

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You were certain that if you forced the sheets out of his grip, Seungcheol would have let go of it but if he did such a thing then he would be the one exposed, and while you were sure that he had no problem with the idea, everything you screamed that if you saw him naked again there was no way that you would just have a redo of the night before.

Letting go of the sheets, you walked to the other side of the room, opening the dresser drawer and pulling out a clean pair of panties and bra.

“I’m going to shower and by the time I finish it I want you gone”

Seungcheol’s laughter still echoed through the apartment when you closed the bathroom door.

You had managed to keep yourself busy enough during the weekend that you had almost forgotten about Friday night. The keyword being almost. Usually, you would have come up with an excuse to not help your sister during the weekend. She was a wedding planner, a very good one at that — she had been the one to plan your wedding — and highly sought out so it was easier to find her working than being at home.

The reason why you always declined was that weddings, while they could be wildly different from one another, there were things that were the same, didn’t who was at the isle. Two people were promising each other eternal love.

When you saw those people, standing in front of each other, eyes filled with love and hope, you couldn’t help but think about Joshua. How you had once been in that exact spot, saying similar words, how you had been happy with him for so many years until all of it came crashing down on you. The only thing that love left behind were scars that were still all too fresh but hidden enough that no one would ever see them.

Still, working during the weekend with your sister was better than staying at home and thinking about all the stupid decisions you made and how much you’d love to make at least one of them once again. She was also kind enough to let you work on the setup and then later back in the kitchen. Maybe she had some sort of sixth sense that said that you need to get out of your mind. Her call was at the right moment.

Even so, there were moments when you were on your own, in the darkness of your bedroom, when Seungcheol’s perfume somehow still lingered in the air. There was no escape then. It was like a replay of that night played in your head again and again, and everytime it it did there was a new detail that you had somehow forgotten.

It was both a blessing and a curse.

You ran your hand over your face and hair, urging your mind to just stop and let yourself fall asleep. You had a meeting early in the morning and you needed your sleep, just so you could function like a semi-normal human being.

You were in the kitchen when you heard a sound in your bedroom. Your heart skipped a beat, hoping that maybe… just maybe… You shook your head in an attempt to come back to reality. The chance of seeing Seungcheol once again was below zero. You heard the sound again and this time your heart wasn’t the only thing doing a weird flip inside your chest, you also felt chills run down your skin.

The third time the sound came you felt as if you were under a cold shower when it was followed by the sound of laughter in the hallway that belonged to your neighbor. 

It was hard swallowing the expectation that had somehow found its way into you. You weren’t even sure why you were expecting something in the first place. After that night it was clear that there wasn’t going to be a second one. Not that there was any conversation on the matter, it just seemed like the most natural option. 

If things had gone according to plan, and if your mind was worthy of any trust, apparently it did, there was no real reason why you should ever see Seungcheol again. And yet, there you were wishing that he’d just show up again, and for what? 

You set the glass of water down, wishing you could have something strong – God knew that if you wanted to sleep you’d need some help – but not wanting to risk anything. Shutting down the lights in the kitchen and living room.

Before you even opened the door to your room you felt this shift in the air. You pushed it open, hard enough that it smashed against the wall.��

“You must really love your kitchen, the second time I show up here and the second time you're in the kitchen”

You closed your eyes for a second, basking in the sound of his voice, how it made chills erupt in your skin. 

“Second time you don’t use the door”

“I’ll be sure to remember that”

Seungcheol smiled, hands in his pocket. 

“You better”

Before you gave yourself a chance to think about it, you crossed the room in two strides and pulled him to you. Seungcheol smiled against your lips before he finally kissed you. 

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog and leave a comment, it really does mean the world to me and i would love to know your thoughts. thank you! 💕

you can read my other fics here ➝ masterlist

[troglobite]

If you are taking Spironolactone now, and wish to quit, please be warned — quitting Spiro suddenly without preparation is difficult and hazardous, and your doctor is very unlikely to understand some of the problems you will encounter.  You should be able to find some peer coaching on the practical aspects of quitting in the Facebook HRT group for more information. Also, experience suggests that most trans women on megadoses of Spiro (200mg or higher) can successfully suddenly drop to 100mg a day without rebound effects (speak to your doctor), but following that, a slower reduction schedule may be required. But the best solution regarding Spiro is to never start. ... The prescribers are saving their patients from a small risk by exposing them to a larger risk. It is bad risk-benefit judgement. I have written more on this elsewhere. (7) It is notable that the 2009 version of The Endocrine Society guidelines even include a mention of estradiol injection (19) but still refer to Spironolactone. One final thought, this time a speculation: it seems possible based on observations that high levels of testosterone provide some protection against the cortisol-raising properties of Spironolactone, such that testing of the drug on male volunteers might not have shown such a large side effect when the drug was originally tested, leading to a situation where heavy dosing of trans women led to these oversized effects. Would the original manufacturer’s dosing advice have been different if the drug had been more thoroughly tested with female patients? Something worth looking into, perhaps. ...Our observation is that these effects [visceral fat] do not begin until the patient is taking doses of 100-400 mg a day, and takes these doses for at least 12 months.  Transgender women are being exposed to doses which far exceed the studied levels being used to claim safety.  Our own observations seem to indicate that taking less than 100mg daily, or taking Spiro for 12 months or shorter time usually does NOT lead to visceral fat accumulation.  We are raising the red flag on a patient population exposed to a MUCH greater dose.  Finally, there is the inevitable labeling of our observations as “anecdotal evidence” (or even drug-blaming from patients unhappy about unrelated issues). Let me just point out that much important medical knowledge starts out as anecdotal. Collect a large group together, and those anecdotes become “group knowledge”, which can progress to shared beliefs and practices, and then to clinical experience, and from there it may become accepted into the bulk of accepted medical science. New knowledge always starts somewhere.

quotes from the end of the piece^^ for context, so that everyone knows where to look and how to safely stop taking spiro.

also be warned that there is some discussion of BMI, "ob*sity", and fat gain. it's shitty "medical" language and wanted to give a heads up for it.

ALSO there are ppl in the notes of this post sharing alternative antiandrogens, as well, which may be helpful to bring up at drs appts.

Hey, if you're currently on Spiro, drop it! Give this a read and then stop taking it!

[harmonysanreads]

i feel like yan!phainon wouldn't want to restrain you physically like tie you up or keep you locked up in a room and etc i think he'd have some form of self-conscience that he's a hero and that doing the above will make himself seem otherwise so he like protects darling at all costs and ends up being overprotective (like the last post you made) because he doesn't want to resort to physically restricting behavior? unless you make things difficult for him but that's just how i think of him for now whjebdjwhebewf praying hoyo cooks with him

I was quite certain about this as well but after recent news of Flame Reaver, a different thought is bugging me if I am to be honest.

Frankly speaking, for an unknown duration of time, Phainon was a man who had nothing left ; his home, the people he once held dear, even his true name had to be left behind. Only vengeance, hatred, a desire for revenge or, perhaps a promise he'd made kept him living an excuse of an existence. You could say that is still the case now, on a deeper level at least. But Phainon would like to not dwell on the negatives all the time. He has a valiant objective, a name that instigates respect among the people, friends that he can fight alongside with, status and wealth.

However, is he sure that those are things he... wants? In a temperate mood, he might say yes. But in all honesty, he isn't sure. In a particularly low-point in his life, he might outright say no, as well. But there is something else, someone else that makes his heart ache at the thought of letting go and leaving behind — you. You're not someone that was pushed to him to carry like all his duties, even if you are, he'd rather take a meteor to his face than give you such label.

Saving Amphoreus through the Flame-Chase? Getting vengeance in Aedes Elysiae's name? Nothing comes close to what he feels when the possibilities are replaced with your name. This is the one mission he'd put all his certainty to. If he is destined to be a hero, he'd much rather be your hero — or, try to. In the beginning it was relatively easy and it was rather difficult to complain about his ‘antics’ when they could be rationalized with some thinking. Not that many people would be bothered to think either, whatever keeps their prophesized Deliverer happy they guess.

Things truly start to become complicated when a shadow from a distant time gets involved in the picture — for you, that is. You see, despite how suffocating Phainon would get in the past, it was well-known to everyone that you held the reigns in the end. It was always ridiculously easy to get Phainon to bend to your will as well, as despite everything, he is a simple man deep down. So, when one day you find your usual tactics completely fail against him, faced with a determination to keep you hidden like he'd die the most gruesome death without making it a reality — no one knew what to do.

Phainon apologizes to you without sparing a breath throughout the ordeal, groveling for a sin he knows he won't receive mercy for. But that is okay, he's always said that he'd take it with a smile even if you sneered at him with a death-sentence. As long as you're safe from that other him, he's willing to go to whatever low is necessary.

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reaction to the idea of a threesome with another member

Request: hey!! can you possibly do !husband!svt reacting to having a threesome with another member?? kinda like if they even would consider it, or who they would choose out of all the others. thank you so much already!! + yes hubby!svt x wifey!reader x another member is what i meant!! sorry for being unclear about that!!🤍

A/N: Some of these choices might make it seem like I’m shipping, lol, but anyway—I hope this is what you wanted! I scheduled this without saving it to my drafts for a recheck, so don’t mind any mistakes I might’ve made. Tumblr doesn’t save changes, but I have way too many pending requests, and it’s getting overwhelming. I couldn’t complete the other requests because of this Tumblr issue, but today, I had an epiphany: I can just post directly instead—at least until Tumblr gets back to me. So please ignore any typos, formatting errors, etc., etc.

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Would Definitely Consider It (Under the Right Circumstances):

Jun – He’s the wildcard. He has a flirtatious and experimental streak, so he wouldn’t mind trying it if you initiated the idea. Minghao will be his choice (bahahah).

Hoshi – He’s adventurous, playful and very open-minded. He’d probably be the one to bring it up first just to see your reaction. He loves excitement and if it’s something you’re curious about, he’d be down. Woozi would be his first choice. He’d love to see his usually composed bestie in a wilder setting lol.

Mingyu – He’s open-minded and likes pushing boundaries in relationships. He’d probably joke about it first but if you were genuinely interested, he’d consider it. I think his choice would be Wonwoo or Jeonghan. They already have that chem, and they are someone Mingyu trusts completely.

Minghao – He’s open to new experiences but only if it’s something you really wanted. He’s emotionally mature enough to separate pleasure from deeper love. Jun will definitely be his choice (yes they're each other's choice). They have a natural bond and he’d feel most comfortable with him in such an intimate situation.

Would Maybe Consider It (But It’s Complicated):

Dokyeom – He’d turn beet red at the suggestion but wouldn’t be completely opposed. But the real problem is he’d get too emotionally attached and overthink things. In my opinion, I think his choice would be Mingyu. It’d feel like a fun, spontaneous thingy with someone he already vibes with.

Vernon – He’d be very nonchalant about it and respond with, “I mean…if you want to.” But deep down, he might not actually care enough to make it happen. Dino would definitely be his choice for a threesome. He’d pick someone who’s also laid-back, so nothing feels awkward.

Dino – He’d need a lot of convincing. He might go for it if it was positioned as a ‘fun experiment,’ but afterward, he’d probably get shy or maybe overthink. His choice will probably be Hoshi. There’s already a strong bond, and it would feel more like a game than anything super serious.

Absolutely Not (Too Loyal, Too Possessive, or Just Not Into It):

Seungcheol – This man is territorial. You are his, end of discussion. Suggesting it might even make him a little jealous and possessive.

Jeonghan – He loves to tease about things like this but would never actually go through with it. Deep down, he’s high-key possessive and wouldn’t want to share you.

Joshua – He’s too traditional and reserved. He doesn’t want to take even a 0.001% risk of anything that could potentially affect the relationship.

Wonwoo – Not necessarily out of jealousy, but he sees sex as something really personal and wouldn’t want you or him to share that level of intimacy with anyone other than each other.

Woozi – He’d be so so uncomfortable with the idea. He’s private and values intimacy in a one-on-one setting.

Seungkwan – Absolutely not. He would take the idea as a personal attack, wondering why he alone isn’t enough for you.

[fishiefishieluvr]

🍎🐶 caleb relationship headcanons🍎🐶

my heart is now shared by both rafayel and caleb so i had to succumb to my desires and write headcanons for our favorite colonel… forgive me these are a bit rushed i wrote it in like 20 minutes i’ve been thinking about him waaaayyy too much!

a/n: i tried to make it gender neutral as possible. warnings for nsfw content, implied obsessive / yandere tendencies, alcohol mention, that’s all i can think… enjoy!!

———

♡ — literally will drop almost anything he’s doing when he gets a text from you, whether it’s just simply chatting about your day or a new interest, or — better yet, inviting him over — he always responds and makes time for you.

♡ — even after graduating and heading off to the DAA, he still felt… intertwined, to say the least with you. as mentioned before, even in the brief absences between texts and phone calls, i feel like caleb definitely is the type to somewhat feel or understand what you’re feeling even while away. oh? you’re sad and depressed? that explains why caleb has been having kind of a shitty day without even knowing.

♡ — constantly fiddles with the necklace you had gifted him. it’s a habit, practically second nature to him. it especially helps him when his nerves are in overdrive.

♡ — this isn’t even a headcanon but gooood god did it piss him off somewhat when girls fawned over him. it wasn’t the girl's faults and he can’t really blame them it's just….. his heart has been dead set on you since the beginning. the only attention he thrives on is yours, whatever sort of attention even.

♡ — snuck one of your plushies away with him when he went off to pilots academy. he stashes it away whenever one of his guy friends (cause caleb never allows any girls in his dorm who aren’t you lol) stops by. he’s even freakier too, practically bathing it secretly in your perfume or body spray before he sneaks off to pack. it’s safe to say he sleeps with it almost every night.

♡ — when you do finally meet again whether during holidays or after he graduates, he sticks by your side almost constantly. regardless! he is respectful of your boundaries and will immediately retreat away if you seem even the slightest bit uncomfortable by it (that’s not to say he won’t sulk a bit. but he’ll do it in the comfort of privacy).

♡ — loves to cuddle and embrace you, fucking thrives on that shit. pre-relationship and growing up wise he snuck what he could from long and warm embraces, nights spooning you on the couch or in his bed, and little forehead kisses… even holding your hand causes his pulse to quicken and his cheeks to turn a rosy hue.

♡ — you thought he was clingy pre relationship? ohhhhh boy it’s increased tenfold when you both finally confess feelings. he feels physically and emotionally unwell when without you for a certain period of time. he only feels the slightest bit better when he goes on week to month(s) long missions as colonel once you finally relent and move in with him. coming back to you, his anchor, his home, his heart… his everything. it makes it all so worth it.

♡ — speaking of this man definitely spoils you in every aspect. i just know he gets paid so damn well so he spends all his earnings on you. don’t mention something that caught your eye even in passing because next thing you know it’s in your hands either the next day or a week later.

♡ — i believe without a doubt that caleb is the type to have planned on getting married to you the second he realized his feelings for you. why else would he chase off anyone who sought your heart if he wasn’t planning on a future entirely with just you and him (and some little ones. but not relevant rn!)? whatever sort of wedding you wanted, he’d give you in a heartbeat. proposes to you for sure pretty early on, which isn’t all that surprising seeing as you spent your entire lives together.

♡ — the bane of his existence is the nights you decide to go out with friends. regardless if drinks are involved, caleb insists on picking you up at the end of the night. and if a sleepover is in the works? oh he’s so pouty about it… i think there are a select few people who he trusts with your safety (even though you insist you’re grown enough to defend yourself), one of them is definitely tara. so yaaay! every now and then you can have a peaceful girls night ^^

now onto the nsfw part :o

♡ — i’m the biggest virgin caleb supporter ever. i agree that he’d read up and study on how to perfect his first time (and potentially yours if you’re losing it too). he definitely is pathetic though in my eyes and doesn’t last very long at all despite his long studying, cums under a minute whether it’s from oral or inside of you. prepare to comfort him because he will feel slightly pathetic about it…

♡ — finds comfort in rutting against your thigh, your ass, you name it! puppy caleb is so real… he’d whimper in your ear, breath hot against your skin, practically drooling as he warns you of his impending orgasm.

♡ — on the nights where his duty as colonel is far too exhausting, he definitely thoroughly enjoys cockwarming. after being apart from you for soooo long and even after work duties, he just needs to be connected and intertwined with you. there’s no work to be done so long as he has you in his arms and he’s inside of you in some shape or form.

♡ — gets fucked-out and drunk off of you way too easily. again with the first headcanon, he cums in his pants just from witnessing your pleasure. anything with you will get him off.

♡ — caleb definitely is the type to experiment with you. his only no-no’s are stuff that could risk seriously rendering you injured. choking? absolutely, that’s fine! just nothing too extreme. gun play? gets off sooo much watching the barrel of his gun in your mouth, no bullets inside, of course! he’s not picky, your pleasure is his pleasure, after all.

[khorneschosen]

Have you ever heard the famous quote that which can be expressed without evidence can be dismissed without evidence.

I don't have a reply because my reply would be that this was off topic one two that it does not directly deal with my argument and three within the context of this could be just swept a side as irrelevant to our current conversation.

So in short your card form of argumentation is invalid but hey there was a point found in that. So I'll answer it just to let you.

And then I had to ask myself the question is it really possible to argue to you that perhaps what you're seeing through your very very I'm sure very objective media buys is not very rational because the one question is when you consider his past run and how he picked people and his current run it seems like he's picking people willing to bear the slings and arrows alongside him which was a major flaw and the people he picked last time.

Most people had to deal with your peoples insanity and decided fuck it I don't want to have to deal with this. But thankfully you guys have canceled so many people that there is a bond to be had by the fact that so many are already automatically hated.

As such for our purposes it's a great pic he's picking people he knows he can trust considering that we're dealing with a low trust situation.

For example when the FBI went after the mob they picked people who were not good people make no mistake they had problems of their own many problems many illegal problems. But this made them all the more loyal because one thing that the mob liked to do and was very good at doing was buying disloyalty.

Do you recognize this perspective to be valid do you recognize this perspective to be true can an unseen eye see the truth I don't think so hence why I didn't say it then.

So then I ask again how do you think this plays out what is your game plan here or you just flailing and hoping to God something hits because you don't actually understand any of us. Me least of all because I'm the grass that bends the other way even within this community and others. I'm a good old-fashioned freak in politics who kind of loves how the great game is played.

Or do you never plan that far ahead with anyone I want you to understand I'm going to be the toughest opponent that my kind can bring out for you because I listen to clearly and understand too much and what I get from you is a severe ignorance about the opposition because you have been taught badly how to understand your opposition your methodology is flawed

How fucking insane is U.S. politics when there are people out there defending the politicians who are stealing their tax dollars

[ghqstwriter]

“Happy Valentines Day to me,” Hero muttered under their breath as they took in the sight before them. It was February 14th, and like every February 14th, Hero’s desk was completely cluttered with flowers, chocolates and wax sealed letters from secret admirers. The agency, for whatever reason, allowed civilians to turn in Valentines gifts for a hero of their choice, and while all of the supers tended to get at least a couple, Hero always seemed to be the centre of attention.

One of the most crucial talents a Hero needed to have in this line of work was likeability. If the public feared and hated you — or at least, thought you were just a tad obnoxious — then you’d have a much harder time rescuing civilians. Each hero had their own gimmick, some were goofing pranksters, some were innocent and sweet, some were fun, adventurous and rebellious.

And Hero, they were the heartthrob. They knew they were conventionally attractive, blessed with what their superiors called a winning smile and a charismatic voice. It worked in their favour, well, until it meant half the work day spent trying to find paperwork buried amongst the gifts from adoring fans. The first Valentines wasn’t so bad, and Hero thought it was heartwarming that so many people desired them. But the excitement wears off after so long on the job, especially when the realisation that none of these gifters would ever even really know Hero had set in.

So, the do-gooder sighed, and made their way over to their superior’s office, where they would first be debriefed on today’s task. It was supposedly an easy errand, according to schedule. Hero soon reached the door, clutching their bag tightly to stop any coworkers from bashing it as they hurried by. Everyone had somewhere to be. Then, they knocked abruptly, and pushed the door open with a sense of casualty that only came from years and years of knowing Superhero.

The aforementioned hero was sat in their desk, hardly glancing up from their clipboard. Hero had a tendency of barging in without asking for permission to come in. When they heard the door slam shut again, followed by the sounds of shuffling into a chair, Superhero dropped their pen and looking up, quirking an eyebrow.

“That’s not the type of bag you should be using to carry weapons or confidential artifacts, so I hope you’re gripping that bag for a reason that isn’t to do with work, Hero,” Superhero commented, taking note of how Hero flustered slightly when they realised just how tightly they were clasping that bag.

“No, no, nothing to do with work. Didn’t uh, even realise I was holding it like that. The downsides of super strength, am I right?” Hero chuckled, trying to seem much more composed. They were the smooth talker, the one who was known for charming their way out of trouble. It was embarrassing how flushed they were right now. Thankfully, Superhero decided to move on with the conversation.

“It’s a simple task today, we just need you to bring some documents over to an informant of ours. Their photograph as well as the location you’ll be meeting them is all detailed here, look over them quickly, because I need you there no later than eleven this morning. Understood?”

Hero nodded curtly in response, picking up the documents and giving them a once-over. There was nothing majorly noteworthy about the mission itself, but the location caught their eye. The informant was going to meet them at an old laundromat nearby the train station, and more importantly, the hero had a particular errand to run nearby there. Hero felt a tingling sensation buzzing through their fingers at the realisation.

“I’ll get right on it, report back later today, boss,” Hero gave a two fingered salute, accompanied by their trademark smile, and headed for the door. The quicker they could get this job done, the more time they’d have to sort out their own business. The thought of that was all that occupied their mind, the details of the first task hardly given room in their mind.

—

Superhero was right, the job was exceedingly simple. The laundromat was almost entirely empty, the only other customer being an old lady who was too engrossed in trying to work the machines to pay attention to the hero and informant’s conversation. Few words were spoken between the two, this was information that didn’t concern any of Hero’s ongoing missions so there was hardly anything to say. Hero didn’t mind that, though. They had places to be.

As they dipped out of the laundromat, still clutching their bag like it held the worlds most precious valuables, they headed straight to task number two. Hero didn’t even stop to think about the directions, they knew them off by heart by now. Across the street, down the alley, turn a few corners, and there it was. The old wooden door sat unassuming along the wall, deep enough in the alley to be ignored.

Hero approached the door, already fishing for the lockpick they tended to keep in their back pocket. The hero wasn’t a towering brute who could knock down enemies like a tank, so they had learnt early on how to sneak around. The lock clicked quickly, it was a sound utterly familiar to Hero, who had now entered the musky room. There was no sign of life in there; a layer of dust had started to form on the shelves and not even a flicker of a lightbulb could illuminate the hero’s path. They didn’t need that light though, they had frequented Villain’s hideout enough by now to get around in the dark.

The floorboards creaked slightly with every step, and the smell of motor oil from the garage next door was subtle but noticeable. It made Hero’s nose scrunch up slightly, not used to this place being so desolate, lacking the familiar smell of the villain. Villain had been gone for months, now. Some major heist a continent or two away, they had mentioned. Hero didn’t expect to feel their absence so heavily, but here they were, sneaking around their hideout on Valentines Day.

But, they were supposed to be back tonight. Hero’s heart fluttered slightly at the thought. They’d hate to say it out loud, but they missed the villain. Somehow, the two had ended up as friends, and what better way to welcome a dear friend back home than with a gift? Hero approached the criminal’s desk, the idea of snooping for documents far from the forefront of their mind. Then, they reached into their bag, and pulled out their weapon of choice: a quaint box of chocolates tied neatly with a bow.

Sappy, the villain would likely say, and they wouldn’t be wrong. The box itself was as stereotypical as can be: a red heart wrapped with a crimson bow. Hero had considered a lot of different gifts for their villain, perhaps flowers or something less obvious. Sure, they had been crushing on Villain for the longest time, but that didn’t mean they should rush into things with the very first move. Something subtle to start things off, that would have been smart.

Distance had made Hero incredibly stupid. With each week they missed Villain more, and with that they became bolder and bolder. There was no time for games now, this was their chance after way too long to make a move, and on the perfect day, no less. So, Hero gently placed the box on the desk, just as the agency had done to Hero’s desk. But this time, the gift was from a place of genuine admiration, from a person who did truly know Villain.

No signature was needed, Villain would know who this was from. Who else knew exactly the chocolates they liked? Who else came amd went as they pleased, yet never threatened to steal information. Hero had made their move, and Villain would know. Whatever they decided to do with the gift, with the knowledge of Hero’s unspoken heart, at least they’d know.

[himasgod]

Spending Valentine's Day with NRC

HEARTSLABYUL VER

SAVANACLAW VER OCTAVINELLE VER SCARABIA VER POMEFIORE VER IGNIHYDE VER DIASOMNIA VER

SCENARIO: The morning sun shone down on Night Raven College as students prepared for Valentine’s Day. Classes had ended earlier than usual, and the hallways were filled with rumors of chocolates, a few confessions, and secret dates. Despite the general excitement for that day of remembering and sharing, you hadn’t planned anything special for that day. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

But he had been acting oddly suspicious since the night before. You’d noticed his furtive glances and failed attempts at hiding smiles whenever you came near. You knew he was up to something.

With Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Cater Diamond, Trey Clover and Riddle Rosehearts

Ace Trappola

The first clue came during breakfast in the dining hall. You were quietly sipping tea when a small red envelope landed in front of you. You looked up to meet Ace’s cheeky grin.

“Hey, don’t get nervous or anything! It’s just a little invitation. Read it when you have time.”

He turned around with his hands in his pockets before you could answer. You unfolded the envelope and read the message written in his unmistakable handwriting:

"I'll be waiting for you at the Heartslabyul labyrinth at noon. Don't miss it, Pref"

Your heart skipped a beat, while you say goodbye to Grim and Deuce to go get ready for what seemed like a date on Valentine's Day.

When you arrived at the labyrinth, the sound of the wind through the leaves was the only thing that accompanied you. You walked along the paths until you reached a cleared area where Ace was waiting for you. He had placed a small table with a white tablecloth, a couple of chairs and a tray of cupcakes decorated with hearts.

"There you are, Pref! I knew you wouldn't resist my charm."

"Ace… Is this all yours?"

"Of course! Well, Trey helped me with the cupcakes… and Riddle approved the use of the labyrinth… but the idea was mine."

He scratched the back of his neck, visibly proud and nervous at the same time.

“I knew Valentine’s Day gifts had to be special. And you deserve something different. Something fun.”

You sat down as Ace poured tea. He kept talking, making jokes and comments to keep the mood light.

You started playing card games where Ace always won due to his cheating. Every now and then he would surprise you with some magic trick, making cards appear where there weren't any.

Or for example, leaning towards you, towards your ear with a mocking smile while his hand caressed your neck until it went up to your ear and whispered "You chose the Ace of Hearts" while he pulled out from behind your ear the card you chose from his deck.

But, in a moment of silence, he looked down at the tablecloth.

“You know, I’m not very good with serious stuff … but this Valentine’s Day is special because you’re here. And… well, I just want you to know that.”

The blush on his cheeks spoke for itself. And before you could respond, he stood up suddenly.

“Oh wait, I almost forgot the best part!”

Ace pulled out a small box wrapped in red paper and handed it to you with a nervous smile. Inside was a simple pendant with a small heart-shaped figure.

“It’s not much, but… I hope you like it.”

You stood up and hugged him without a second thought. Ace froze for a second before returning the hug with a smile.

"Hey, don't make me get all sentimental! But… thanks."

Deuce Spade

Deuce Spade had been visibly nervous all week, something you hadn’t been able to miss. Although he was normally clumsy with his words, his clumsiness had reached a new level recently.

It was mid-morning when you received a message on your door: “Meet me in the garden after class. There’s something important I want to tell you. —Deuce.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew Deuce well enough to know that this had taken a lot of courage on his part.

When you arrived at the garden, you were met by an unexpectedly adorable scene. Deuce was there, dressed in his usual uniform, though his nervous movements betrayed his intention to remain calm. He had placed a blanket on the ground with a small picnic basket beside him.

“Oh, you’re here!” he said, quickly standing up. “It’s not a big deal, but I wanted to do something special for you.”

You sat next to him on the blanket, noticing how his hands shook slightly as he poured the tea.

“I made some sandwiches. Trey gave me some tips… I’m not sure how they came out though.”

You tried one of the sandwiches he’d made, and to your surprise, it was delicious.

“They’re great, Deuce!”

“Really?” His eyes lit up with a flash of pride. He looked like a nervous puppy trying to get things right, and when you told him that, his eyes lit up. “That’s a relief.”

After a few minutes of light chit-chat, Deuce leaned forward, his cheeks flushed with tension.

“There’s something I’ve wanted to say for a long time. You’re very important to me. Every time I’m with you, I feel like I can be better, like I can become someone worthy of your time.”

His words were clumsy, but there was such a deep sincerity in his voice that you couldn’t help but smile.

“Deuce… that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looked up, a mix of relief and happiness in his expression.

“So, would you agree to be my date for this Valentine’s Day?”

Without saying a word, you walked over and hugged him. Deuce hugged you back tightly, as if he never wanted to let you go.

“Thank you! I promise to do everything I can to make you happy.”

Cater Diamond

Pink and red decorations adorned the hallways, and students were everywhere passing by, handing out cards and chocolates of friendship and love. However, you knew Cater Diamond had something special planned. He had always been the life of the party, the first to capture the most memorable moments for Magicam, and today would be no different.

During lunch, you received a notification on your Magicam. A story from Cater had appeared on your feed: a selfie of him smiling widely with the message: “Make sure y'all don’t miss the Valentine’s surprise. Especially you, Prefect ❤.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Knowing Cater, you knew there was something big coming.

Towards the end of the day, the cafeteria was transformed into the center of attention. A crowd had gathered around the entrance, where bright lights and Valentine-themed decorations had been set up. At the center of it all, Cater waited, dressed in a red and white outfit that matched the theme.

“There you are!” he exclaimed upon seeing you. The crowd moved aside to let you through.

“Stay here a second,” Cater said, as he cast a small spell. A shower of heart-shaped confetti appeared above you, illuminated by dancing lights. It was the kind of scene Cater adored: flashy, cheerful, and full of life.

“This is all for you,” he said, with a soft, sincere smile that he rarely showed in public. “I’m always looking for ways to make things memorable, but you make every day special just by being here.”

You felt a warmth in your chest. Cater could seem shallow at times, always concerned with his image, but you knew there was so much more to him.

“Will you be my date for this Valentine’s Day?” —he asked, handing you a small box wrapped with a gold bow.

You opened the box to find a collage of all the photos you had together. Your eyes almost filled with tears.

"Cater… it's beautiful."

He quickly took a selfie of the two of you, not leaving the opportunity to photograph each and every moment and any reaction of yours to treasure it later.

"I can't let this moment pass. But it's just for us," he said as he saved the photo in a private album.

He hugged you tightly, and in that moment, the whole world disappeared. It was just the two of you, sharing an unforgettable Valentine's Day.

Riddle Rosehearts

Everyone knew that Riddle Rosehearts, the strict and meticulous housewarden, had been acting a bit strange all week. For someone so rule-bound, acting nervous was a rare occurrence.

You had received a note slipped under your door early that morning. Riddle’s neat, careful handwriting invited you to meet him in the gardens of the labyrinth, just before sunset.

The sun was beginning to set as you arrived at the meeting point. The red and white flowers of Heartslabyul had been carefully arranged in perfect patterns along the path. The golden light of the setting sun gave an almost magical air to the place.

Riddle was waiting for you, dressed in his impeccable Heartslabyul Dorm uniform. His bearing was straight and formal, but his eyes betrayed a certain nervousness.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, his cheeks flushed. “There is something I want to share with you.”

He led you down a path that led to a small gazebo hidden in the heart of the labyrinth. There was a table perfectly set for tea, with a selection of your favorite sweets. And strawberry cake. Thanks Trey. Everything was arranged according to the rules of the Heartslabyul, but with a personal touch that only someone like Riddle could achieve.

“I wanted to prepare this for you,” he said, adjusting the collar of his uniform. “I know I’m not always easy to deal with. Sometimes I’m too strict, and it’s hard for me to express what I feel. But… today I want to do it right.”

He paused, looking into your eyes with a serious expression.

“Since you came into my life, you’ve brought a light I didn’t know I needed. You help me see beyond the rules and become a better person. That’s why I want to ask you… to be my partner on this special day.”

Your heart was pounding. The sincerity in his words and the way he had prepared everything took your breath away.

“Riddle, of course I do!”

A genuine smile spread across his face. It was a rare expression on him, but also one of the most beautiful you had ever seen.

Trey Clover

Trey Clover had spent the morning in the kitchen, baking a batch of his famous cakes and pies for the day's celebration. The smells of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberries filled the air, and students lined up to try a bite of his creations.

Trey had something else in mind, though. He'd been waiting for this moment for weeks, planning every detail carefully.

Just after lunch, you found a small card slipped into your dessert tray. Trey's familiar handwriting invited you to join him at the greenhouse at dusk.

When you arrived at the location, the greenhouse was illuminated by soft lights hanging between the plants. On a table was a tray with a selection of sweets decorated with hearts and flowers, all handmade by Trey.

Trey was waiting for you, dressed in his kitchen apron, but with a new shirt underneath. His soft, warm smile greeted you immediately.

“I knew I’d be busy baking for everyone today, but I wanted to make sure you had something special just for you,” he said, scratching the back of his head with a mix of shyness and pride.

You sat down next to him as he poured a cup of hot tea and placed the desserts in front of you. There were candied violets and a strawberry shortcake topped with whipped cream, decorated with your name written in chocolate.

“You know,” Trey began, his voice more serious than usual. “I’ve always been used to taking care of others. Sometimes it’s hard for me to ask for something for myself. But you… you make me want to be more open. Not just with my feelings, but with my dreams as well.”

He took your hand gently.

“What I want today, and always, is for you to stay by my side. Would you agree to be my partner this Valentine’s Day?”

Your response was immediate, full of emotion.

“Of course I do, Trey.”

Her smile grew wider, and in that moment, Trey Clover, always the caretaker of others, finally received the love he deserved as well.

(Hey everyone, I hope you didn't miss me too much on my hiatus! I'm feeling a little better, so I found the energy to write this, although a little lazy! I don't think I've ever posted about twst before, but it's something that's been my hyperfixation since 2023 when the fandom was very dead LOL, I'm so happy that it's revived, that I felt like posting something that's far from Genshin, which is what I usually post!)

[pushspacetocontinue]

"Great!" Travis said, grinning. Once the Twins were gone, he could recommend Russell's actual channel.

Russell was already wondering if this was the best idea. Yes, he had given them payment. Yes, he had offered them the perk of free, and yes, he had said as long as he had employed them, Antonio wouldn't lay a mental hand on them. But that still didn't mean they couldn't decide they preferred Five's employment.

"I think it's better if none of us think about it too much," Leofric said, with a subtle look of disgust, "Gloves would be suitable in this matter."

"Yeah, you're right," Bill said, before he looked down at his own gloved hands, "It'll save me burning this pair when I'm done with them at the very least."

"That's a good positive way to see it," Simon said, "It's a little extra strength training."

While Antonio quickly regained his composure, he couldn't resist taking a subtle glance over at Ratchet, just to see what kind of effect that might have had on him.

He missed the smile on Willow's face, having been too busy watching Erica and Ratchet, but it seemed that it had been a quick easy task for the elf too.

"I'll have to be ready next time," was all Antonio said then, "Now where were we?"

"We're, we're not, not expecting it," Russell said. He wasn't about to tell them it was their own money they were spending. But nonetheless, he took out an extra thirty dollars from his own wallet and held it out, "Just, just come, just come back safe, all, all right? And, and get yourselves some-something nice while, while you're at it."

Bill gave a nod then. He almost wanted to make a snarky comment about how smithing the tools into something better would be harder if they didn't come back safe without them, but he could see that Russell was trying to offer some kindness despite everything.

Who knows, maybe that would help the Twins see things their way just that bit more?

"Look forward to seeing you back here, boys," Bill said, giving them a fanged grin and a cheerful wave as they left. Then he looked at Leofric when he was certain they were out of earshot, "Did you get their scent?"

"Yes," Leofric said, "If I do need to find them, I'll be able to smell them."

"Willow and I can also keep track of them with their phones," Simon said, "So we'll know what they're doing."

"I will!" Or at least she would look up the channel. It was a little difficult to keep up with videos while living in a different universe.

Though it wasn't the time to bring that up either. They were about to send the Twins out on their own, not knowing if they were going to come back. There was no need to give them more information that they could potentially share with Five while left unsupervised.

"I'm not sure I want to know what else he's been doing with these." Rook muttered. It wasn't hard to do so, but thinking about the implications only made her wish she had a way to clean her magic. "Add some gloves to the list."

"And we get a free workout, right?"

"-right?"

It felt like petty punishment, especially with how long that list was. Tommy held it up so his brother could read it as well, then watched Erica disappear in the dark pit on the floor. Somebody was about to get a good scare.

That person couldn't be Willow, though. She was already reaching into her coat before Erica had even made her entrance. Hopefully, neither Lucien or Antonio were going to notice her own smile at her double's shenanigans.

The cyborg handed over a neatly folded roll of cash, "This should suffice."

"Thanks!" Erica grabbed the money and leaped back into her portal, "I'll be louder next time!"

"Like that's going to help." Lucien grumbled.

The money was slapped onto Timmy's palm as soon as Erica's feet touched the ground. "There! Now you can go buy us stuff."

The brothers consulted each other through a brief look after the money was counted.

"This will take a while."

"And don't expect any change back."

They could barely do anything with that budget. The Twins didn't wait around to say their farewells and headed for the exit. It wasn't very interesting work, but at least they weren't looking for sage again.

[honeysorwell]

all of it (all of you) 

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x hairdresser!fem Reader

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Link on AO3

Chapter 2

Tag list: @janeyseymour @italianaidiota @chloeelou02x (and if you want to be tagged too just let me know.)

Warning: there is a line for people who want to kiss Mel's burn hand, and I'm the first in it.

Words: 5,7k

The comments and compliments I received for this work caught me completely unprepared. Guys, thank you all very much for embracing my work with such affection.

Enjoy!

Fifteen people in the last twenty days.

Fifteen people have complimented Melissa's hair in the last twenty days.

In theory, everything was done the same as usual, but by someone else's hands. However, the universe decided to make the redhead feel even more guilty about everything that happened on her last visit to the salon.

First, it was Barb. The older woman touched Melissa's red hair tenderly in the teacher's breakroom, without any apprehension or concern about the second-grade teacher's reaction, and complimented the way it was colored, saying it looked brighter than before.

But it quickly escalated into something more significant.

Ava asked if she did anything differently, and the principal did so while telling a flattering joke asking where her Roger Rabbit was, which even made Barbara laugh softly. Next, it was Janine and Jacob who also complimented her hair, with a shy Gregory by their side who just nodded.

Then more and more parents of students joined the complementary wave of affection towards her. And then Melissa was hearing compliments from Abbott’s new stocker and vending machine operator, a handsome man with hair that was too long for her taste named Julian who now shares the heavy workload of the truck with Gary (causing the bald man with the mustache to blush before he softly agrees with his new co-worker).

Then there are a few random teenagers, grocery store clerks, who stop her to tell her she looks hot, quickly finishing the sentence with a “respectfully” before Melissa even has time to respond to them.

Normally Melissa would love all of this attention, and in another scenario, the compliments would have encouraged her to go out after work on some random Friday night looking for someone brave enough to try something more than a compliment. But this time the Italian woman felt her heart clench and her mind race a thousand miles an hour as she thought about the hairdresser who did that job every time someone complimented her.

So she actively swallows her pride and visits the Riverfront Roots Salon once again. Melissa would truly rather die than apologize or admit she was wrong. She memorized this from her family and she carries this learning throughout her life, but even someone like the redhead needs to admit that nothing can be applied in life without at least one exception.

That's why Melissa makes this visit to the salon on a Tuesday, after the school day is over since the darkness of the night could allow a little more privacy between her and Y/N.

As she parks her car in front of Riverfront Roots, the redhead convinces herself that it doesn't hurt to make sure that only the minimum number of people witness this display of vulnerability coming from a Schimmenti as she watches what seems to be the last customers of the night saying goodbye to the receptionist before leaving.

What will she say?

She has no idea.

But everything goes down the drain when the redhead's idea goes wrong. So when she returns home at night, unable to even talk to the hairdresser to replace the image of discomfort written on Y/N's face from her memory with an apology, Melissa decides to call her confidant and arrange to meet her the following weekend, using the next few days to gather courage and ask for advice from the one who never failed to give her the best of them whenever the teacher needed it.

“Oh, Melissa. How are you, dear? Don't get me wrong, cuz I figured I'd get your call, just not exactly as an invitation for coffee...”, Andrea's voice rings out as Melissa enters her favorite coffee shop, sounding happier than the last time the teacher saw her, and the redhead imagines that this is the result of the free time resting that the Italian woman must now have in abundance thanks to her retirement.

“What? Can't I invite my friend for coffee and ask her how her days are going without the sound of the hairdryer making her deaf?”, her voice sounds playful above all, which makes the answer she receives from Andrea come along with a laugh.

“Of course you can, silly girl!”

And so they talk for several hours, drinking coffee after coffee and hardly caring about how electric their bodies will be after ingesting so much caffeine while sharing pieces of their current lives. At first, it is strange to look at the woman in front of them and not see their own face next to that one, sharing a reflection in the mirror, but it is fine and the two women quickly get used to the new arrangement.

“Of course, you knew I would miss you,” Melissa says with a laugh, chewing gently on one of the best butter cookies she has ever eaten after taking another sip of her particularly hot coffee.

“Oh, I knew that. But, that’s not exactly what turned on the light bulb in my head,” the older woman says with an air of wisdom that only someone who has ever lived in the world enough to know too much can have, and after taking another sip of her coffee, she continued, “You see... Y/N called me a few weeks ago asking for permission to pass on the mix recipe I developed for you to another hairdresser... So, even though she didn't give me any details, I figured something had... happened.”

Melissa felt that the blood under the skin of her face was truly burning with shame.

The redhead thought about swallowing the coffee in her cup in one go, hoping it would burn her tongue with how hot the liquid was, and thus be able to escape from answering what Andrea clearly wanted to know.

She knew she was cornered and had been caught, with no intelligent way to escape. Shame and guilt mixed together, creating a bitter taste in the teacher's mouth even with the memory of the cookie so fresh on her tongue.

But, Melissa's usual response to these situations, loud and ready for a fight, doesn't happen here. Not with Andrea. Never with Andrea.

“What a big mouth... Jezz...”, is how the teacher responds, mumbling as she looks away from her friend in front of her.

“Something tells me yours is too.”

“I just... I was angry, okay?”, for the first time the redhead is honest even in the midst of murmurs, “And she’s different, and she kept talking so I... I freaked out and said what I shouldn’t have.”

Andrea remains silent, just observing the discomfort of the one in front of her with affection and understanding, and it’s this look that makes Melissa continue to speak.

“I know I crossed the line... But she did too!”, the words come out of the teacher’s mouth accusingly before she shares the whole story with Andrea, who smiles and shows surprise at every bit of her student’s encounter with Melissa shared with her, especially with the scissors.

“And what do you want to do now? I even know other hairdressers, but–”

“No! I just... I don't know exactly how I should apologize... Don't get me wrong, I don't want to apologize, but I really know I need to.”, honesty and vulnerability continue their journey between Melissa's mind and tongue as she speaks, “I stopped by her salon but they didn't even let me see her, they just gave me a paper with how many grams of each dye I need for my whole head and sent me away. But since you told me she was your pupil... Well...I thought that maybe...”

“Oh... I see.”, Andrea's voice has the most suggestive tone Melissa has heard in years, and thanks to the look the older woman gives her, full of knowledge, the redhead's cheeks blush.

“Please Andrea, it's not like that.”, the sentence escapes her lips just as her neck also begins to blush, with a speed that would be justified if Melissa were being tortured, trying to prove her innocence of a crime that the teacher definitely did not commit. But maybe she thought about it.

Or if she had enjoyed many generous sips of her coffee, even though she knew how hot it was.

“I didn’t say anything, dear. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Andrea can sense Melissa’s embarrassment, so she diverts her attention to the bigger picture, even though her knowing smile never leaves her lips, “Look… You know you’re a good cook, and you’ve gotten your fair share of favors that way. Maybe it’s worth trying your luck.”

After that, the subject goes back to where it was before, and the teacher actually tries to focus on Andrea saying that she’ll be spending next summer in Europe, but Melissa’s mind starts working in a completely different way. She silently goes over (in her memory) the most beloved dishes from the cookbook she inherited from her grandmother while listening to Andrea talk about how it would be a pleasure to have Melissa over if she decides to run away from her family for the upcoming holidays. And when they pay the bill for the coffee, Melissa knows what to do.

“And Melissa… Cut off an inch when you get the chance, my dear. It's getting a little.. uneven.”, this is the end of Andrea's farewell to the redhead after a tight hug and a sweet kiss on the forehead, but the words are said in a maternal tone, of genuine care for the teacher that makes Melissa, even without thinking, respond to the older woman with just an affirmative nod and a loving smile.

And, as she doesn't want to think about what happened when someone else suggested the same thing, at least not now, Melissa goes home with only that feeling in her chest.

When the moon took over the sky that night, Melissa was lying under the covers of her bed, staring at the ceiling of her room and completely giving up on falling asleep, while her mind went over and over her conversation with Andrea. The older woman was right, as always.

She could cook something for Y/N.

Cooking has always been her passion since she was little, and that was one of the things that made the redhead and her grandmother even closer. The fact that Melissa was very good at it only helped her cause of being her grandmother's favorite.

Most of the time the redhead cooks as a thank you, rather than an apology, but the change is small. And so, the fact that the idea of ​​cooking to apologize has not left Melissa's mind honestly shocked her.

Most of her guys are just people from all over Philadelphia who work in different places and when they hear about how good her food is, they actively choose to seek her out, willingly offering services (sometimes illicit) that the redhead might be interested in in the long run in order to have the opportunity to taste her seasoning, thus forming an alliance.

It's impossible not to take advantage of this after a few years.

Finding out and memorizing what her most skillful guys' favorite dishes are. Doubling or even tripling the size of recipes that were previously made for only ten people, making her thanks become something shared with more and more potential “guys” (thus increasing the number of guys offering their services to her) so often that the redhead has forgotten how to cook for just two people in the last twenty years.

Cooking is a gift that, unlike her job as a teacher, the redhead didn't have to choose. It was flowing through her veins.

Melissa knows that this is one of the simplest ways to get what she wants. And maybe that's what made her block this possibility until now.

There was a voice inside her head, not the part inflated by her ego for always getting what she wants thanks to how good her food is and how everyone who knows about her talent wants to appreciate it, but the insecure and confused one that whispers in a soft voice that Melissa wants to manipulate Y/N.

And for the first time in a while, she’s not bragging about doing it. In fact, she doesn’t want to do it.

For some reason that Melissa still doesn’t know but keeps scratching her insides, she wants to earn Y/N’s apology, not demand it with her food.

And it doesn’t help that it’s been a long time since Melissa apologized to anyone.

Knowing that she won’t be able to sleep anytime soon and taking advantage of the fact that tomorrow will be Sunday, the second and third-grade teacher gets out of bed and goes to the kitchen, wondering what she should cook.

It’s already the middle of the night, and she has a lot of grading to do for her students’ tests tomorrow, but Melissa knows she won’t be able to concentrate if she doesn’t do that first.

Wrapped in a dark blue robe and hoping that Jacob won’t come to check why she is up so late at night, the teacher carefully opens the refrigerator and checks the ingredients she has and the ones she bought the last time she went to the farmer’s market.

Orange juice... Half a bottle of wine... Milk... Eggs... Fresh mascarpone?

When her eyes focus on the sweet cream-colored cheese, a train of thoughts runs through her head. Melissa knows less than little about her new hairdresser – which is her fault, really – but who doesn't like a sweet treat after a long day of work?

The redhead has dark chocolate in the pantry. Coffee is always a must in a teacher's house. And her cousin gave her a cocoa powder so rich and velvety last Christmas that it could melt in her fingers.

So tiramisu it is.

It was a simple yet sophisticated dessert, full of layers of flavors and textures that the redhead hoped would be enough to convey the care and effort she had put into the dessert. And that would certainly be worth more than a few words, right?

When Melissa goes back to bed, she knows that this is a good idea, and, bathed in this certainty, the redhead can finally see herself falling asleep as she climbs back to bed.

"Perfect," is the word Melissa whispers softly to herself, as she finally gets the thing that was preventing her from sleeping off her chest.

The next morning, the redhead took a quick shower and went downstairs, deciding to organize everything she would need to grade her little eagles' work on the dining room table before taking a deep breath and heading to the kitchen.

She hadn't made homemade Savoiardi in years, always using the ones from the Italian bakery that sold her favorite cannolis. But today was different. Today, cooking would make her put her feelings in order, perhaps even directing her mind to a light that would clear her ideas for what the teacher should say when giving the dessert to Y/N the next morning.

The redhead begins to separate the ingredients she will need to bake the cookies quickly, already deciding that it would be smart to have the necessary ingredients on the kitchen counter even before she finishes making her coffee. Anticipating the company she will have when she hears the sound of lazy footsteps coming from the stairs, Melissa fills one more cup than she would if she were alone with the dark liquid and begins to grab her frying pan to put it in the stove and prepare what she's going to eat.

"Good morning Mel-Mel!", Jacob sounds as he enters the kitchen, hoarse and sleepy, leaning softly against the kitchen counter and observing the ingredients that are displayed there.

"Morning Jacob. There's coffee ready.", Melissa answers softly, pointing to the coffee cup next to hers, still full and steaming, waiting for the younger teacher.

"Thank you.", the smile Jacob gives her is initially full of gratitude, but quickly turns to curiosity when he continues, "Oh... what are you cooking?"

The teacher isn't sure what exactly this question refers to, but considering how curiously he was looking at her ingredients just a minute ago, Melissa gives Jacob two simple answers.

"Eggs, and then baking."

"That's cool. Let me finish this, you already made me coffee.", Jacob says as he gently takes the spoon from the redhead's hand, then grabs four eggs from the fridge and takes her place in front of the stove.

After he moved in with Melissa and this new and sweet idea of ​​friendship was born between the two teachers, what had previously been just a few cooking lessons here and there turned into an intensive course. But the younger teacher loved every second of it. Jacob learned so much about everyday food living with the redhead and even managed to succeed at it, making moments like that more and more natural in the Italian woman's kitchen.

Taking advantage of the softness of her replacement in front of the stove, the redhead begins to gently check if everything she needs to bake is there until Jacob's voice sounds again.

"Did you know that astronauts can bake bread in some space stations?", the man says the words with childish excitement, but still with his eyes attentive to the eggs he is stirring gently on the stove, exactly as the redhead instructed him weeks ago, "Wouldn't it be nice to eat warm bread while you watch the earth from afar?"

"First, I'm not baking bread. But yes, it does sound good to them, kid.” Melissa’s response is simple and sweet, not irritated like she usually would be when she hears silly things like that at work.

They ate breakfast in comfortable silence. Melissa knew Jacob was going on a date that Sunday, so from the moment she woke up to the moment she heard Jacob singing in the upstairs shower before he began to get properly dressed for the lunch he would share with Avi, the paramedic at the local Philadelphia fire station, everything was going according to the plan the teacher had until she started baking.

Melissa tried to focus on the methodical rhythm of her task. Crack the egg, pour the white into a jar, pour the yolks into the mixer bowl, and repeat. But her mind insisted on going back to what she had done a few weeks ago. The words she had said to Y/N were sharp and thoughtless, but what weighed on her like a stone in her stomach was the change in the hairdresser’s expression. "She may have already forgotten...", Melissa muttered to herself, trying to calm her mind. But she knew it wasn't true.

She knew Janine didn't mean to say that she was a bad teacher when Courtney was transferred to her class, not really. It was just the younger teacher's ego and naivety, both screaming and destroying Janine's judgment for having been actively chosen.

But Melissa also couldn't deny that her mouth turned bitter the moment she heard her colleague's words, even if they were whispered.

She would never say it out loud, not even to Barb, but that first night, after hearing that unexpected insult, the younger teacher's words remained too vivid in the redhead's mind when the lights in her room went out and she had to go to sleep.

Maybe I'm not a bad teacher. Maybe you are.

She really didn't deserve that.

The memory flashed through Melissa's brain so quickly that the teacher even lost her rhythm as she added more ingredients to her mixture, but she recovered enough to start beating the egg whites. However, the continuous noise of the mixer only made her remember how much she had thought about it, lying in her bed watching the sun rise through her window when she woke up before her alarm clock.

A bad teacher.

Sighing, Melissa thinks about how much it took for her to understand what was going on in the mind of the younger teacher back then, and then turns off the mixer and begins to mix its contents with the few that were missing.

As she spread the molds she would need on top of her table and, with the experience and speed of a chef, the redhead put the freshly mixed dough she had in her hands in a pastry bag and continued without even blinking as she remembered that little clash in Abbott.

When Janine got upset about being described as an inexperienced teacher in the teachers break room, the redhead hadn't even blink, and that was why she started teasing the younger woman.

Because, to the redhead, it was obvious that she was a more experienced teacher.

If Melissa, a teacher with over twenty years of experience, wasn't more experienced than a teacher with only three, then Melissa was doing something very wrong not only with her life but also with the lives of the children she taught. The fact that the two woman had different times to prepare and perfect themselves to where they were now, both in the same place (teaching Abbott Elementary as second-grade teachers at the same time), had nothing to do with Janine's qualities as a teacher.

Eventually, she managed to explain this to the younger teacher.

"Thank God.", was the muttered thought that Melissa let slip between her lips as she put her Savoiardi in the oven after sprinkling them with her mixture of sugar and cornstarch, automatically starting the timer.

Melissa forgave Janine because she knew she didn't mean it with all her heart. The younger teacher was foolish but not cruel. She couldn't be cruel even if she tried.

Melissa knew. But Melissa knew this because she knew Janine.

The problem was that... Y/N didn't know Melissa.

So what the hell was she going to do if the hairdresser didn't accept her apology?

And so it was over. Her mind was just taking away the possibility of a peaceful morning for Melissa. Because not even her grandmother's collection of favorite Italian songs would be fair competition for what was starting to form in the redhead's mind.

The redhead isn't someone who has a problem with someone she barely knows not liking her. Melissa sometimes even triumphs over this idea of ​​being disliked by people close to her, so someone she doesn't know should simply mean nothing.

When Uncle Archie says she's his least favorite in the family, it doesn't mean anything. It's an honor, really, and the words of her mother's brother would never keep her awake at night. And he is family.

Now among people she knows, Schimmenti loves the idea of ​​being seen as unreachable, distant and unsociable. But there is something about that hairdresser...

With a huff, Melissa simply grabbed a cloth within her reach and began to clean the counter of her sink, ignoring the insistent sound of the timer that finally went off, still lost in all these thoughts.

Maybe it's because the hairdresser really didn't deserve those words... Maybe it's because the poor woman was just doing her job... Maybe it's because the hairdresser is connected to Andrea... Or maybe...

When the smell of sugar began to intensify, Melissa finally realized that the time had passed. With a start, the redhead opened the oven, letting out a wave of heat so intense that it made her eyes water. The teacher hurriedly pulled one of the baking sheets out of the oven, her bare fingers touching the hot metal before she realized her mistake.

"FUCK!" she groaned loudly, backing away quickly, knocking the tray onto the counter. One of the cookies fell to the floor with a dry, crunchy sound, while her instinct forced her to hold her hand against her chest, her eyes watering.

The burning heat pinked up her palm like an immediate punishment, and defeated Melissa finally turned on the kitchen faucet, placing her red hand there.

"MELISSA??" Jacob's shrill voice sounded faster than she imagined. And more desperate too.

For a moment, the older teacher stood there, staring at the cookie on the floor and feeling the buzzing in her throbbing skin as she felt the flow of water. The pain was real, but it served only as a reflection of something greater: guilt.

“I’M FINE, JACOB!” the redhead yells back at her roommate, even though she knows that from the sounds she hears upstairs, he must be desperately putting on the first piece of clothing he can find and then coming to check on her.

By the time he appears in the kitchen, as out of breath as Janine had been running around in her early years as a teacher, the pain has already subsided. But the younger teacher doesn’t care about that, or the fact that Melissa honestly tells him that she used to get burned all the time when she was younger and that heat tolerance is in every Italian woman’s blood, as he gently rubs some burn ointment from his personal first aid kit onto her burned fingertips.

After repeating what she imagines to be a thousand times that she is fine and perfectly capable of being alone, Jacob finally leaves her alone and goes on his date, giving Melissa the space she needs to sit at the kitchen table. She doesn't want to sound insane, but the savoiardi, perfectly shaped but with some slightly over-brown, seemed to judge her silently.

With a fork and using her non-dominant hand, Melissa tried to transfer all the cookies she baked to a covered container as soon as they cooled and went to her living room.

Finishing the corrections of her students' tests with her non-dominant hand takes longer than she imagines, taking up most of her morning and afternoon. But at least she is back in the kitchen when Jacob returns from his meeting, with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, a sweet smile and lost eyes as he asks her if her fingers still hurt.

She softly denies it, with a smile on her face and thankful for Jacob's concern written in his eyes. He understands even the words she doesn't say, and she is also thankful for that as she grates some of the dark chocolate she will need to finish her recipe the next day and puts it in a covered container.

On Monday morning, Melissa gets up ready early.

If asked, she would say that she set her alarm to wake her an hour and a half earlier, but the reality is that her nerves did the job without the help of technology.

Calmly, Melissa took the mascarpone from her refrigerator and began to make the cream that would bring the entire recipe to life. She beats the egg whites with the egg yolk, and uses the mixer to first mix the sugar, then the mascarpone and finally the carefully beaten egg whites.

When everything was ready, the redhead took a deep breath and, next to the precious dish she had chosen, arranged on her counter the Savoiardi cookies made the day before, the grated chocolate, the mascarpone cream and began to assemble the dessert. She dipped the cookies in a little room temperature coffee, one by one, taking care to make sure they were just the right amount of wet so that she could arrange them on the bottom of that precious glass dish, creating an even base and trying to ignore how much she wished the hairdresser could see the care she put into it.

When Jacob finally came downstairs, she was already spreading the fourth layer of the mascarpone cream, smoothing it with a spatula to ensure that each part of the dessert was perfect. When she finished, the redhead noticed that it was exactly ten minutes before the time she and the younger teacher left the house every day, so the redhead took her time sprinkling cocoa powder on top delicately, as if she were drawing an invisible message to Y/N.

Forgive me. I'm sorry.

Melissa wasn't sure.

But what she knows for sure is that Jacob is practically melting with curiosity in his passenger seat as he holds the dessert in his lap.

The Italian woman wanted to rest the tray on her back seat, as she always does when she needs to take something important to school. But he asks so genuinely to carry it that Melissa doesn't have the heart to tell him to take the bus that day. Especially after his ointment worked wonders by almost completely healing the burn on her hand.

At least not inside the car, since she takes the tray from the younger teacher's hand and is the one responsible for putting it in the refrigerator in the teacher's break room.

"Oh. This is a...”, Janine's voice is uncertain as she inspects the tray that prevents her from storing her sandwich on the common refrigerator shelf, already stretching her fingers to get a better look at what it was.

“It's mine. Do you have a problem with it?”, Melissa says rudely just so that there are no additional questions, but, as usual, Janine doesn't get the hint.

“That's beautiful. But can I—”, Janine starts again only to be interrupted.

“It's not yours. So don't touch it.”

After that, a heavy silence takes over the break room for a few moments.

“She spent the whole day yesterday making it... and she even got burned and then she was putting it together this morning.”, the youngest man in the room mumbles to his friend, not as quietly as he imagines he did since everyone in the room hears Jacob's words even with the news on the television.

“Did she give you a piece?” Janine mumbles back to Jacob, now curious. He shakes his head at the younger woman, purposely leaving out the fact that Melissa left a fair amount of the cream she used for that tiramisu in a small bowl, next to some of the homemade cookies just for him this morning. And that’s why Jacob gets a slap on the arm from the redhead along with an irritated look as he passes her on his way to the coffee maker to refill the dark liquid in his cup. Finally, intrigued by the younger man’s groan of pain, Barbara looks at the refrigerator that Janine still has open, trying unsuccessfully to put her lunch inside, and sees the reason for everyone’s commotion. A big tiramisu. But she also sees something that no one else does.

Something that cannot be questioned is that, out of everyone there, Barbara knows Melissa like no one else and is able to figure her out without even trying. And, with a small look at the glass dish in question, she had already figured her friend out.

That was one of a set of five glass dishes that Barbara Howard had heard about and only seen from a distance. Before her third year of marriage, the redhead's ex-mother-in-law, who was battling lung cancer although she still refused to give up smoking, distributed her most precious possessions to her family. And among them was that set that had been desired by all the women in Joe's family for many years.

As expected, four of the dishes were divided among Mary Alice's four daughters, but, surprising the redhead in a way she never imagined possible, Melissa was given the last one of the set, much to the despair of Joe's older brother's wife. Melissa's ex-husband's mother told the teacher that her talent for cooking would give a better destination for the last piece, unlike the idiotic fight that the sisters would probably start over the unequal number of the set.

Even after the divorce, the heartwarming gift was never claimed by Joe.

So Barbara knew that the tiramisu in question, taking up a huge space in the refrigerator of the teachers' break room on the first floor of Abbott Elementary, was not like any other.

"Girlfriend?" Barbara says softly to get the redhead's attention, speaking again only when Melissa's green eyes are looking directly into her dark ones, "Don't get involved in anything dangerous, please."

"I won't..." Melissa's voice no longer has the bite it had when she spoke to the other teachers, "I swear! It's just... an apology."

"For Joe?", the first-grade teacher knows she might be pushing, but she can't help but ask.

"No!", it's almost a scream, the redhead's tone of voice sounds scared and indignant, but it calms the teacher next to her.

And that, for now, is enough.

At the end of the day, with the tiramisu neatly packed and in her passenger seat, Melissa got into her car and drove to the salon where Y/N worked. The teacher's heart was beating fast as she parked and walked to the entrance, holding the dessert tightly even though her hands were sweaty. As she entered, the sound of scissors and the buzz of conversation seemed to fade in her mind. Her eyes searched for Y/N, who was distracted by a client and she didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The last time she tried to talk to the hairdresser, Melissa gave her name right at the entrance and the receptionist automatically started searching through her notes for the note addressed to her, but now the redhead knew better.

"My name is not important. Just say that someone really wants to talk to her."

"Y/N!" the receptionist shouts the hairdresser's name loudly, using her vocal cords without any remorse, "There's a redhead who wants to talk to you."

“Is she hot?”, the sound of Y/N’s voice rings out from a distance to Melissa amidst a laugh, at the same time that her rhythmic footsteps echo on the floor of the salon, as if the hairdresser wasn’t exactly running, but in a kind of hurry and curiosity to know what was waiting for her at the reception.

When the Brazilian woman turns the glass corridor and finally appears in front of the redhead, with a soft smile on her face, Melissa can’t help but think that Y/N is even more beautiful than the first time she saw her.

But that smile doesn’t last long because, the moment the hairdresser’s eyes meet Melissa’s green ones, Y/N’s soft face turns into a frown as she asks harshly:

“Oh. You. What do you want?”

[j2archives]

pretty baby

summary he’s infatuated with you, how could he not?

content warnings lovesick!sammy, brief mention of dean, sugarbaby!reader (kinda), mentions of hunting/training reader and sam’s protectiveness, feminine qualities and traits used so fem!reader, whipped!sam, implied/mentioned intimacy, sweet talk, praise, pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart, baby, angel), mentions of sam thinking reader is out of his league, fashion and style for reader used, p!v w/ creampie, unprotected sex, brief marking kink, gentlemanly sam (of course), and more!

notes based on a mood board I reblogged, reader has honey daniels style, dean headcanons are being planned i swear!! there’s 500 wc too. proofread. lemme know if you guys want more of these in the comments if you want <3 reqs are open.

sam winchester is infatuated with you to say the least.

naturally in that winchester brain of his, he’s surprised you gained an interest in him. some guy who doesn’t spend his time at the local bars, who is always on the road with his elder brother, who is so soft spoken he sometimes feels bad for thinking inappropriately. but, you didn’t seem to mind that. he was still puzzled by it. you were so beautiful and way out of his league.

and now he had the pleasure of calling you his. his girl, his pretty baby, his everything.

whenever he’s out on a hunt, he always stops at the local market when he can to buy a bouquet. bringing you home a bundle of your favorite flowers, candies — whatever satisfies you. sam does his best to do it every time he’s away. you’d stay at home. sometimes researching lore for their new hunt, but mainly because sam wanted you out of harms way. he knew that the supernatural was everywhere, and he was honest with you about it. Teaching you how to load a shotgun filled with salt shells, how to salt the windows and doors, he even stashed an exorcism book in the apartment. on his free time, sam would help you with pronunciation and the meanings of each syllable.

dean would take solo hunts, letting sam stay at home with you.

sam knew how much you loved shopping and he also knew how much your style fit you. if you wanted a new belt, he’d take you. if you wanted a new pair of shoes, he’d drain his wallet for you. whatever you wanted, he had no issue in getting it for you.

your hair products sometimes could be a bit pricey, but that doesn’t mean sam can’t use his credit card scams to buy each and every one. god, he could go on about you for ages. every feature of you was perfect. stunning. gorgeous. he couldn’t get enough of you.

he was a gentleman by all means, in the bedroom and outside of it.

he’d start slow, savoring the feeling of your painted lips against his. he could taste the lipgloss you wore, almost the same one each time. when you switched it up, he’d compliment you on it. saying you tasted divine every time.

sam loved seeing your marks on him, the red streaks that you left when he had you splayed out on the bed. his cock reached places inside of you that you hadn’t known existed and he’d change angles, pounding into your sopping cunt just the way he knew you liked it.

he hated having to be quiet with you, fuck, sam would drown in your moans every chance he’d get. your song would replay in his head and he never wanted it to stop. but he also loved the feeling of your lips wrapped around his cock or his thumb, another way he could muffle you without slapping a palm over your mouth. he was sure he leaked steadily every time you pulled him out of his boxers. how could he not though?

the sight of loose strands sticking to your forehead after two or three rounds drove sam crazy, especially when you were mumbling incoherently when he was fucking you so thoroughly.

“such a pretty girl, laying beneath me like this. taking every inch of my dick. god, you’re gorgeous.” his praise echoed and sometimes he cut himself off with a moan, feeling your heat pulse around his throbbing length. “you feel fuckin’ amazing, sweetheart.” he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling if he tried, but he didn’t want to. he wanted you to know how ethereal he thought you were, how intoxicating every moment he spent with you was.

he always had an idea of when you were close, sam would coax it out of you. purposely pulling out until just the tip remained before slamming back into you. keeping the same pace to earn those breathless sighs from you. “c’mon, baby… cum on my dick, i know you can, angel. you always take it so good, right? i know you can give me another.” sam would pull as many orgasms as he could from you, working you over the edge and then himself. his head jerking back with a guttural moan as he filled you to the brim.

afterwards, he’d run you a bath or shower when he could. peppering your face in sweet kisses, cooing and telling you how precious you were. how good you always were for him. telling you how much he loved you.

tagged @h8aaz @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @immodestly-marina + comment to be added <3

[brainrotbee]

Payneland Promptfest Day 6: Star-crossed

~

Edwin took a deep breath of the night air. He knew that oxygen would have no effects on his ghostly body but he still felt slightly calmer. He liked seeing the night sky too, especially from the roof of the office where the stars seemed close enough to touch. Normally the London smog would hide them, but the temperature was cold enough to make them visible.

"Up yours," he heard an angry voice yell. He turned and saw Charles climbing out of the window, holding up his middle finger. The person inside began to respond but he slammed the window shut before they could finish.He then crossed the roof and sat down next to Edwin with a huff.

"Why didn't you phase through the wall?" Edwin asked idly.

"Too angry," Charles spat. His jaw was clenched so tightly that if he were alive, Edwin would worry for his teeth. "I hate that second-rate Charles."

"I see."

Their alternate selves were creating quite the stir within the agency. Edwin didn't mind them very much--talking to the other Edwin could be quite pleasant--but Charles did not agree. He seemed to hate nothing more than his counterpart and the two were constantly bickering.

"My face doesn't look that punchable right?" Charles asked, flicking a pebble off the roof moodily.

"I wouldn't know. Punching faces is more your area."

This managed to make Charles smile. "He so bloody annoying," he continued. "Always acting stupidly happy. Always making snide comments." He shook his head. "He just got mad at me because he found out we killed Esther."

"Esther might not be evil in their universe," Edwin reminded him.

"Still, drives me mental." Charles sighed and leaned back on his hands. "I don't know how you to get along."

Edwins shrugged. "Shared experiences," he replied. Charles winced. "Still, it is odd to have them around." Edwin looked out at the city again. They were supposed to meet with a sorcerer at Oxford in the morning because they'd received a tip that he had knowledge of the multiverse. "I cannot wait to have the office to ourselves again."

Charles hummed in agreement and rested his head on Edwin's shoulder. "I agree. It'll be nice to kiss you again without having to worry about that Catholic nutter freak out on us."

Edwin tried to hide his laugh. It didn't feel right making fun of his counterpart when he was a perfect version of Edwin: strong, devout, untouched by Hell. "I think he would be too busy trying to break up the fight between you and the other Charles to care much."

"You're probably right." Charles looked behind them at the office windows. The other Charles was sitting on the edge of their desk--much like the regular Charles but with far straighter posture--and the other Edwin appeared to be speaking to him. They talked for a bit longer until the other Edwin poked his Charles teasingly in the chest with his croquet mallet. His Charles laughed and the other Edwin's normally serious face broke into a smile. "I don't know," regular Charles said. "They look like they're in love too."

"I'm inclined to agree with you there," Edwin replied. He secretly celebrated when Charles leaned on him again.

"Well, at least we know we're not star-crossed."

"Hmm?"

Charles shrugged. "If us happens in more than one universe, it has to be right, doesn't it?"

Edwin hadn't thought about it like that before. He looked back at the two boys, so far away from their home, and was suddenly grateful for their presence.

Shoutout to @technically-human for creating the reverse verse AU. You're my idol.