#so he drags himself down into work and eventually passes because he worked so hard and in hatred of that human

[okwonyo]

OPEN ARMS 𓋜 𝗂’𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

♥︎峠 when you don’t want them to leave ｡

notes. enhypen is whipped ─── fem ! rea 8OO fluff domestic 先兆𓈒 kissing skinship library

REBLOG FOR A KISS!

HEESEUNG

he wakes up to the warmth of your body against his own. he holds his entire world in his arms, snoring quietly, barely budging at the alarm on his nightstand. he doesn’t want to move nor does he want to leave— but he needs to if he wants to avoid the alarm waking you up.

“shh,” he smiles when you whine at the way his embrace gets loose, how slowly gets away from you. gets out of bed and stops the alarm in time, and he catches your sleepy frown before he can go in the bathroom. he allows himself to stay a little longer, to admire your beauty is slumber and his kisses your forehead, “i love you.”

JAY

ever since he started dating you, he has never been at work in time. he knows he should change that. it’s not like he doesn’t have the willpower to change his morning habits but he doesn’t try to, he barely talks about it because he doesn’t want to.

“i really need to god,” he chuckles, still, he doesn’t put any effort in getting away from your hands cupping his face. he lets you kiss his mouth gently, then his nose, his chin and his cheeks. it quickly ends in your hugging him and kissing his lips— you don’t want him to go and he doesn’t want to either.

JAKE

“good bye, my love,” he tells you, leaning down to reach your level— while you are sitting down on the table, eating breakfast— to peck you on both of your cheeks then on your lips sweetly, as he always does. “i love you.”

you giggle at his usual cute antics, but you don’t say it back. only a merely audible ‘m’kay’ as he walks away. he takes a few seconds, taking a double take before fully coming back to you. he looks at you with side wide eyes to wish you shrug, “if you leave, there is no i love you.”

SUNGHOON

call him overdramatic but he thinks he hallucinating, dying even, when you wipe your face away from his as he tries to give you a goodbye kiss. his eyes grow wide— thinking that it is the first time something as devastating as you not wanting to kiss him happened to him.

“sweetheart,” he puts his hand on heart, a little theatrical. he leans in more and more, “i’m going to crash the car if i don’t get a kiss from you before leaving,” you don’t indulge him. he is impatient and won’t leave without what he wants.

SUNOO

“i’ll have to go eventually,” he laughs quietly. he has been getting ready for work since early in the morning and he did everything in his power to not wake you up— but he miserably failed. you were awake ten minutes after him, and have been following him around for a while now.

he doesn’t protest when you wrap your arms around his neck. he doesn’t protest either when you act like a dead weight, when you let yourself be dragged all over the house. however, he is a bit surprised when you let him go. as expected, not for long, because you jump on him a minute later to make him fall on the bed. burying your face in his neck, you mumble; “please don’t.”

JUNGWON

he swears he needs to go, but his heart is longing to stay there and stare at you all day. “you’re cute,” he coos, poking on your puckered lip softly. at his move, you give him a quite mean look to which he can’t help but burst out of longing to. it is so lovely, how hard you are trying the fact that you are a tad sad.

he cups your face, pressing his palms against your cheeks to make your pouty lips even more puckered— perhaps for a kiss or to make fun of you a little bit more, perhaps to do both and at the same time. after his lips kiss yours, he pulls away, just a few inches, “i will be back soon, m’kay?”

RIKI

he tries to avoid it at all costs. he makes to not pass by you too more or give you enough time to speak or even look at him properly. he puts all his strength in avoiding your gaze as he gets ready— he knows it, how much you wish for him to stay home and cuddle, he wants it too, but he can’t.

he fails his mission quite miserably because he wants to look at you before leaving for work. but, you are frowning, looking at him with wide sad eyes and he groans at the jab it does at his heart. he drops his bag and comes hug you before leaving, “don’t look at me like that please. i’ll miss you even more.”

taglist. ( open ) &daily

[elliewrites77]

Uncle!Sukuna

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6.5, 7

masterlist

Uncle!Sukuna who always hated the idea of settling down and having kids. he definitely did not want to be a parent.

Uncle!Sukuna who refused to even consider a pet because he didn't want that kind of responsibility.

Uncle!Sukuna who almost went off the grid when he got a call about stepping up as a guardian after his brother Jin and sister-in-law passed away, leaving their 6 year old son Yuji, who Sukuna hadn't seen since he was...1? maybe 2?

He hadn't been very close with Jin, and Jin's wife had always had "a bad feeling" about Sukuna, so it wasn't like he was going over every Sunday for family dinner.

Uncle!Sukuna who agrees to talk to Yuji's social worker, after multiple phone calls, to at least get an understanding of what's being asked of him, and what's at stake.

Uncle!Sukuna who the second he sees Yuji, knows he won't be able to say no to the kid. Despite being Jin's son, the boy looked exactly like Sukuna. The biggest difference in their appearance was the gummy grin that Yuji gave as soon as he saw his tall, broading, indimidating uncle. Sukuna was surprised at the...brightness the kid held, despite all he had lost.

Uncle!Sukuna who spends the next few weeks before he officially becomes Yuji's guardian getting his life together. He has money, owning his own bar and sometimes bartending there has kept his bank account more than happy. But he's never cared for big spending, except for his fancy car. So he moves out of his apartment, moving into a nice family house, in a quaint, safe neighborhood, neither of which he ever saw himself doing.

But the second he saw Yuji's face light up when he pulled up to the house for the first time, he knows he made the right choice. Even if he did grumble and act indifferent and uncaring.

Uncle!Sukuna who is suprised how easily Yuji takes to him, how comfortable he is so quickly. Considering the kid barely knew him, he acted like he had been around forever. He already calls him Uncle Kuna, and is not the least bit deterred by his hard, cold exterior.

Uncle!Sukuna who acts like Yuji is an inconvenience, an annoyance. He tells him he better not ask for anything unless he's willing to work for it. But he always finds himself buying the kid stuff whenever he goes to the store, whether it's a toy, a snack he doesn't need, a movie, or whatever. even if Yuji doesn't ask one.

Uncle!Sukuna who internally panics when there's an emergency when there is an emergency at his bar that requires his immediate attention. It's late, and there's no one to watch Yuji, and he definitely couldn't take him.

Uncle!Sukuna who practically drags a half-asleep Yuji out of the house, ignoring the kids mumbled confusion as he pulls him to the house across the street. He recalled seeing a kid in the yard the week prior, so he was taking a chance in hoping that meant there was a willing parent there too. Irresponsible and risky but he only had so many options.

Uncle!Sukuna who practically bangs on the strangers' door, waiting impatiently for someone to answer. He completely ignores the fact that it is 2 am and a weeknight.

When you open the door, rubbing your tired eyes to see a tense, tall man holding the back of a little boy's shirt, who is grinning brightly as if it wasn't 2 am, it takes you a moment to process. You glance between them a few times. They look familiar, but you can't place where you've seen them.

"Can i help you?" You eventually ask, confused and tired, and slightly annoyed at his previous banging.

Sukuna is a little thrown by the softness of your voice, by how sweet it sounds. Even with the clear tiredness and weary. He does nothing to hide his glance of..appreciation of your figure, but only lets himself get distracted for a moment before he gruffly explains why he was there, not even introducing himself.

You stare at him in suspicion for another silent moment, before glancing back to the boy next to him and giving him a kind, soft smile. Sukuna ignores the unfamiliar feelings in his chest when he sees that smile aimed at his nephew.

"I can watch him till the morning." You finally said, looking back to Sukuna. He took no time to push Yuji into your house, a breath of relief and a mumbled thanks leaving his lips before he turns, briskly walking to his car.

Once the door is shut, you stare at the child in your entry way, while he stares back up at you. You were still processing the situation, to be fair.

"Hi honey, I'm y/n. What's your name?" You ask with a tired sigh. he grins once more.

"I'm Yuji! you're pretty."

you chuckle, ruffling the kids pink hair fondly. Something about this situation told you this little boy and his unnamed guardian were gonna bring something totally new to your life.

----

not proofread

[hsjazebel]

The first fight - A Meant to Be extra

A/n: I knew I had to write their first fight at some point, and here we are! I love exploring the more vulnerable sides of their relationship—because even the best couples have their moments. But at the end of the day, they always find their way back to each other. Hope you all enjoy this one! Let me know what you think!

Summary: Harry and Y/N experience their first real argument, but even in the midst of frustration, love has a way of shining through

Wordcount: 5k

Meant to be | masterlist

———

Y/N had never liked conflict.

She had always been the kind of person to avoid fights whenever possible, to keep the peace, to hold her tongue even when something didn’t sit right. She hated the way her stomach twisted when voices were raised, the way her throat went dry when the air grew tense.

And yet, here she was, standing in the middle of her apartment, her heart pounding as she faced Harry—who, for the first time since she had known him, looked genuinely upset with her.

She could see it in the way his jaw was tight, in the crease between his brows, in the way he kept running a hand through his hair like he was trying to stop himself from saying something he’d regret.

“I don’t understand,” he said, voice low but firm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N folded her arms over her chest, shifting uncomfortably. “Because I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Harry let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Not a big deal,” he repeated, shaking his head. “Right. So you passing out in the middle of class isn’t a big deal to you?”

She flinched.

Charlotte had told him.

She had known it would come out eventually, but she had hoped—stupidly—that maybe she could get away with brushing it off, that maybe she wouldn’t have to explain herself.

But now Harry was standing in front of her, looking equal parts worried and frustrated, and there was no getting out of it.

“I didn’t pass out,” she muttered, staring at the floor. “I just… got a little lightheaded.”

Harry let out a sharp breath. “Jesus, Y/N.” He dragged a hand down his face, his fingers briefly pressing into his temples like he was trying to keep himself calm. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

Her stomach twisted.

She knew why he was upset.

She knew.

But she hated the way his voice sounded—strained, like he was forcing himself to hold back. She hated the way he was looking at her, like she had let him down.

“I didn’t want to make you worry,” she said, voice quieter now.

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “Well, that worked out great, didn’t it?”

Y/N inhaled sharply, frustration bubbling in her chest. “I was fine, Harry—”

“You weren’t fine,” he cut her off. “You weren’t eating properly, you weren’t sleeping, you were running yourself into the ground—and you didn’t tell me.”

His voice rose slightly at the end, not quite yelling, but close.

Y/N clenched her jaw, suddenly feeling defensive.

“I didn’t want you to drop everything for me,” she admitted, her voice a little sharper than she intended. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to fix me.”

Harry exhaled, his expression darkening. “Is that really what you think? That I’d only care about you if I thought you needed fixing?”

Y/N swallowed hard, suddenly feeling small. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what did you mean?” His voice was still firm, but there was something else in it now—something almost vulnerable. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you don’t trust me enough to let me be there for you.”

That hit her harder than she expected.

Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

Because maybe—maybe, deep down—that was exactly what it was.

She wasn’t used to leaning on people. She had spent so much of her life convincing herself that she had to handle things on her own, that asking for help meant burdening the people she loved.

And she had done the same thing to Harry.

She had shut him out, not because she didn’t trust him, but because she hadn’t wanted to let herself need him.

Her chest ached.

“Harry…” Her voice was softer now, almost hesitant. “I didn’t mean to shut you out.”

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before meeting her eyes again. His frustration was still there, but now, it was mixed with something else.

Hurt.

“I just don’t get it,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I thought we were in this together.”

Y/N blinked rapidly, her throat suddenly tight.

“We are,” she whispered.

Harry ran a hand through his curls again, looking at her like he was trying to find the truth in her words.

“Then act like it.” His voice wasn’t harsh, but it was firm. “Because I can’t—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. “I can’t be with someone who won’t let me in.”

Something inside her cracked at that.

Because the thought of losing him? Of this—them—falling apart because of her own stubbornness?

It was unbearable.

She stepped forward, hesitating for just a second before reaching for his hand.

He didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was stupid, and stubborn, and I should have told you.” She squeezed his fingers. “I trust you. I do. I just… I’m still learning how to let myself need people.”

Harry sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly as some of the tension drained out of him.

“I just…” He let out a breath, shaking his head. “I love you, Y/N. And it scares me—really scares me—that you thought you had to go through this alone.”

Her breath caught.

He had said it before, of course. I love you. In soft whispers, in laughter, in sleepy murmurs against her skin.

But this was different.

This was raw. Real.

Y/N felt her chest tighten, and before she could second-guess it, she tugged him closer, wrapping her arms around him.

Harry exhaled against her hair, his arms immediately coming around her, holding her tightly like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go.

For a moment, they just stood there, wrapped up in each other, the remnants of their fight still lingering in the air—but underneath it, something stronger.

Something that told her they would be okay.

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her heart pounding.

“I love you, too,” she murmured. “And I promise—I’ll try to be better at this.”

Harry searched her face, his green eyes softening.

Then, finally, he nodded.

“Okay.”

Y/N smiled, small but real. “Okay.”

And just like that, they found their way back to each other.

They still had things to talk about—things to figure out.

But for now, she let herself sink into him, his arms wrapped securely around her, his steady heartbeat under her cheek.

Because despite everything—despite the fight, the frustration, the stubbornness—one thing remained true.

They were still meant to be.

[stray-kaz]

The Sleepover : a Yeon Sieun x f!reader oneshot

Summary: Sieun's dad is away for the weekend. He invites you to your first sleepover. Unsupervised.

A/N: this is a continuation of Sleep Study, some time down the track. They're probably heading towards eighteen, so please, only those of suitable age. Warm intimacy ahead.

Sieun waited for you when school had finished on Monday, leaning against the brick wall, patient and quiet. Doleful eyes becoming soft the second they rested on you and his hands came up to hold your hips as you leaned into his body.

"Hi" you said softly, and he shifted so he could gently press his forehead to yours.

Unnoticed by both of you, Suho passed by, grinning and rolling his eyes. You two were so far down the rabbit hole, he was surprised either of you could still see in front of you. He knew Sieun was nervous as hell about something, and he was pretty sure he knew what it was.

"My dad is away on a work trip this weekend" Sieun says finally, his fingers digging a little more firmly into your hips through your skirt.

You nodded, listening and enjoying the feel of his chest against yours. His heart was beating a little erratically, which was unusual. He hardly ever displayed fear or nerves, and when you were kissing, you were too busy wondering if he could feel your heartbeat to worry about the state of his.

"Do you want to come over and stay Friday night?"

His question was barely a breath and you had to ask him to repeat it. He did and your heart doubled in speed, your ribs barely able to contain it. Sieun waited, watching you, accustomed by now to the stunned silences that arrived whenever he asked you a personal question. Do you want to come over and study? Can I be your boyfriend? What's your favourite flower? What's French kissing? And now this.

He prodded your cheek lightly and your eyes snapped to his.

"Remember to breathe" he murmured, smiling faintly.

You shivered slightly and bit your lip on a smile.

"Yes" you answered him, eventually. "I would like that. Shall I bring snacks?"

Without really thinking about it, Sieun dragged one hand up and down your back, pressing you even closer against him. Your nose pressed into his shoulder and you simply...deflated, whole body going boneless. He loved when he had this effect on you, when you could barely stand up because of the butterflies rioting in your stomach. When you felt so safe with him and you knew he could hold you up.

"Snacks sound good" he said quietly.

In the middle of the week, Sieun found himself standing in the scariest pharmacy aisle in the world. Birth control products and pregnancy tests mocked him with their shiny boxes. He didn't know what he was doing here. Or he did. Sort of.

He didn't know for sure if it would happen, but he had to be ready in case it did. Hope fluttered feathers in his chest.

Suho had told him he needed to communicate with you, ask questions, learn what you liked and didn't, talk you through...? Whatever that meant. But you liked him how he was. You said so. At least once a week. He just had to hope you still liked his silence in his bed. If it got that far.

His mind returned unwillingly to the task at hand, staring at each and every different kind of condom known to mankind. Plain, ribbed, flavoured? What size? His head spun. There were fewer choices to make in an exam.

Older guys came and went, glancing at him with amused eyes as they made their choices and left him there, standing alone and increasingly more confused. Until, finally, one man in his twenties took pity on him. He picked out a plain box and handed it to him.

"Sometimes simple is best, kid" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Don't think so hard about it. If you're here, she already likes you, right? You're halfway already!"

He clapped him on the shoulder and Sieun blinked, closing his fist around the box. He nodded slowly in lieu of a bow, and went up to the counter to pay, unable to look the female cashier in the eye. He shoved the box into his backpack and pushed through the door, headed out into the dark for home.

At home hidden away in his room, Sieun sat at his desk, hunched over an anatomy book, occasionally shooting rapid glances at his desk drawer, hyper aware of the box of condoms stashed at the back of it. He pored over the diagrams of female anatomy with the hard focus of exam prep.

He didn't know if you were going to allow him to touch you, but if you did, he needed to be prepared to know where he was going. He had some idea. Kissing you up to now almost always ended with you climbing into his lap and making soft kitten noises as you rubbed against him, gone a little mindless with need while he tried to figure out where to put his hands.

So, clearly, your body responded to his.

His bedroom door opened without warning and he hastily covered the anatomy pages with a school work book as his father poked his head into the room. A flicker of suspicion passed in his eyes, but then it was gone as quick as it had arrived.

"Have you eaten?"

Eyes a little too wide for innocence and heart pounding, Sieun nodded.

"Yeah. I'm good."

A beat passed and his door closed again. He sighed in relief and went right back to the drawings.

A familiar arm slung itself around your shoulders and you tilted your head to look up into Suho's smiling dark eyes.

"So...big weekend ahead for you guys, huh?" he asked you, waggling his eyebrows.

You shoved him, but he hardly budged, laughing.

"Shut up, Suho" you retorted, elbowing his side. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think I do" he argued, grinning. "Your first sleepover!"

You were saved from having to bluster your way through a response by the warm, strong hand sliding into yours and the hard, flat look Sieun shot Suho.

"Stop pestering her" he muttered. "Go find your girlfriend. Bother her instead."

Suho shot him a delighted grin.

"I think I will."

He loped back down the hallway and Sieun squeezed your hand.

"Ready? Do you have your pajamas?"

You shook your head, turning a delicate shade of pink.

"No. I thought I could borrow some of your clothes instead?"

Sieun's steps faltered slightly as he swallowed hard. He couldn't lie; the sudden image in his head of you padding around in his clothes sent a bolt of lightning right through him.

He was brought back to the corridor by you squeezing his hand and quietly saying his name.

"Sieun-ah" you murmured. "Is that okay? If it's not, I can go home first to get pajamas."

Sieun shook his head, eyeing you sidelong.

"No" he said, his voice coming out harsh and gravelly; he cleared his throat to fix it. "No. It's fine. I have...clothes you can wear."

Your answering smile kickstarted his heart and he bit his lip remembering the secret hidden in his desk drawer at home.

The TV was off, its screen black. The lights were dimmed, the living room warm and easy with impending sleep. Empty snack packets covered the low table. You lay with your feet curled up on the couch, your head on Sieun's lap, half asleep, his hand shaking slightly as he petted your hair. You were still in your uniform, and his eyes kept straying to the spot where the hem of your skirt met your thighs.

You yawned and his hand stopped. You reached up to pat the back of it, urging it onward.

"Why'd you stop?" you mumbled sleepily.

He smiled at the blank television screen.

"You're falling asleep" he murmured back. "I think it's time for bed. You can shower first. I got a towel ready for you."

You lifted your head and stumbled up off the couch, pausing only to grab clean underwear from your backpack before heading into the bathroom.

Sieun's head moved in the direction of the sound of water running and he closed his eyes to the knowledge that you were probably naked now. Naked and in his home, alone. Just the two of you together.

He stood up and started pacing, wearing a path in the carpet as he imagined hot water sluicing down your body, turning it pink, sliding past all the places he hadn't touched yet.

He had driven himself nearly insane by the time you walked back in, but his eyes and his entire demeanor softened when he saw you in his white hoodie. It swamped you in soft fabric, and from just beneath the hem, peeked a pair of his boxers, whisper soft against your skin.

You stuck your hands in the big front pocket and smiled shyly at him.

"It's comfy" you told him, quiet in the sudden silence. "Thank you."

Sieun didn't say anything. He just strode for you, cupped your face in his warm hands and took your mouth with a gasp of barely suppressed need. You whimpered in response and he growled quietly against your lips; your knees failed and he wrapped an arm around you to hold you up, flush against him. Chest, stomach, hips, all pressed close. Weak fingers gripped his rumpled collar, anything to ground yourself.

He breathed you in, sucked on your lower lip, bit at it, bruised it. Fever gripped him as your hands dug at his shoulders, found the heated sides of his neck, tunneled into his hair. The one person he didn't mind touching it, he wanted your hands in it.

You tasted like peppermint toothpaste, the last thing that had passed your lips, and he knew he probably tasted like whatever sour candy you had forced him to try, but he didn't care and you clearly didn't, judging by the battle you were fighting with his teeth, to get past and touch his tongue. You found it, sucked on it, his knees shifted hard under him.

"Jagi" he panted, breaking free to hold his forehead to yours. "Do you want - "

"Yes" you whispered fast. "Do you?"

He opened his eyes slowly to look into yours, his pupils swirling vortexes of desire. He glanced down at the same time he pushed impossibly nearer to you and you felt the proof of how badly he wanted to. Uniform trousers couldn't hide much. He heard you bite back a moan, forcing it back down your throat, felt your fingers curling, tightening in his hair. He sighed.

"Bed."

You nodded and he led you into his room, trying to ignore the uncomfortable press of his zip. He was used to the feeling from the too short, always interrupted minutes of your weight in his lap, pressing down, needing but never getting. He wondered if after those times, you dealt with the aching problem yourself, or if, like him, you couldn't bear to because it wouldn't be the same.

Now. Now...you could fix it together.

And also now...now you were pressing at the front of his pants, gentle pressure from your palm turning to more eager pushing when he grunted quietly at your touch. The fingers of your other hand snuck towards his zip, even pulled it halfway down before he stopped you, briefly shaking his head. You looked at him, waiting. His mouth twisted slightly, as if he didn't want to admit the words but needed to. So that you understood him.

"If you touch me first, it'll be over before it's started" he said, voice low. "I haven't...done anything since you fell asleep on my bed. I've been holding out for you."

Your eyes widened, blinking between the apparent strain in his pants and the slightly devastated look on his face.

"Oh" you said in the quietest, most desperate voice he'd ever heard.

Then your hands were on him, plucking at the buttons on his shirt until they loosened, and your longing gaze dragged from the golden column of his throat revealed by the loose collar to the surprising broad of his chest and the smooth planes of his stomach. At your insistent tugs, Sieun shrugged out of the white shirt and let it drop to the floor. He felt your eager eyes all over him, committing him to memory. Then all of a sudden, unable to wait again, greedy for him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, open and heated, the familiar ache building between your thighs.

You pushed and he went, stepping back to sit on the edge of his bed, your sweet familiar weight sinking into his lap dragging a whimper up his throat. You matched your hips to his, already beginning the slow easy grind that swept all thoughts clean out of his head, and yours.

Sieun kissed like you were fragile, blown glass ready to shatter if he held you too tight, a contrast to his usual firm grasp on your hips as you moaned unintelligible sounds into his mouth. As if now that his dream was coming true, he was afraid to let it. So you took his hands and led them up to your chest, molding his palms against the shape of your breasts through the thick fabric of his hoodie you wore. The animal howl he released into your mouth sent a dart of heat right down through your belly, and you gently squeezed his hands over you.

"It's okay" you mumbled against his lips, gentle and swollen pressed to yours. "Touch."

He learned you through the hoodie while you touched him in turn, his face hot beneath your questing hands, his shoulders sloped and warm, arms strong and quivering leading to where he touched you. Your favourite part of him now you'd seen it, his stomach, tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed, as you traced it, gently at first and then firmer.

"Sieun, you're so..." you murmured against his mouth, trying to pull the best word from your heat befuddled mind. "...good."

He sighed and stroked a firm hand down your back, landing on your ass and pushing you against him. You rocked slowly, and he felt you suddenly holding your breath, trying to concentrate instead on the pulse building between your thighs.

"Jagi" he whispered, and pushed his hands up the front of his hoodie on you to rub gentle thumbs over your nipples.

You bit your lip on a quiet whimper and shifted faster over him. Sieun stopped kissing you to watch your face, smoky brown eyes wide as you flew apart on his lap. You slowed and melted against him, nuzzling into the side of his neck as your hips twitched continuously with tiny aftershocks. He rubbed your back and murmured broken words of praise into your hair.

"Yah" he said softly. "We don't have to if you're done."

You shook your head and stumbled backwards off his lap on trembling legs.

"No, please" you begged, desperation edging your tone. "I love you, I want you, Yeon Sieun."

His pupils blew wide as a planet and you hurried to pull his hoodie off over your head, sending your hair flying into disarray. He didn't notice your hair. He noticed the sweet flare of your hips in his boxers, the softness of your stomach and the peaks of your breasts. Your chest rose and fell rapidly under the intensity of his gaze, your cheeks flushing his favourite colour.

Then, surprising you, Sieun got up and moved around you to his desk, pulling open the drawer and fumbling inside it. He tossed something onto the bed and your eyes followed it, widening slightly when you recognised what it was. Then you heard the soft shuffle of his pants coming off and tried to turn, but he was already right up behind you, only three layers of cotton between you and what you really wanted to be inside you.

And then there were only two layers as he shucked off his boxers and pressed himself against you, gently rocking until you whined and spread your legs so he fitted in between them, his arms wrapped around you, one hand spread over your stomach.

"I'm sorry if I'm quiet" he mumbled. "I promise I'll like it."

You let out a soft pleased sound and Sieun carefully grabbed the sides of his boxers you were wearing, hooking his thumbs into the sides of your underwear and pulling them both down together. You stepped out of them and he rose up behind you again, reaching around to slip an eager hand down over your stomach and lower, fingers softly swirling until he found what he was looking for.

You cried out in surprise, jerking forward slightly, and Sieun pulled you gently back to him with a hand firm on your hip, intent on learning. He toyed you out of your shell, teasing, drawing lazy figure eights then faster, tighter circles, until you were shaking against him and keening loudly and his fingers were wet and slick.

"I knew I could do it if I studied hard enough" he muttered, seemingly to himself.

You choked on a laugh and fell forward onto the bed, crawling away from him. He was mesmerised by the slow sway of your hips and became suddenly too aware of how painfully hard he was. He watched you flip onto your back, knees apart, and reach to pick up the box he'd tossed earlier. You opened it and pulled out a foil packet, holding it out to him.

As Sieun ripped it carefully open and followed the instructions to the letter, you climbed under his covers. He followed you hastily, a faint chill chasing him now that he wasn't touching you. You clung to him, wrapping your arms and legs around him, feeling him prod your inner thigh.

He kissed you, sweet and slow, until his breath came too heavy to concentrate on anything but the hard weight of him pressing just out of reach of where you both wanted him. He reached down to touch your thighs, ease them further apart for him, pressed his lips to yours, one, two, three times.

"I hope it doesn't hurt" he whispered to you, his words shaking slightly. "I'm not going to last long. I hope it's okay."

You kissed him again, sucking lightly on his lower lip before he had to pull away to see what he was doing. You watched his expression get hazy and heard him moan a curse as he looked down at you, warm and expectant for him.

The brief pressure, the tiniest spark of pain, were nothing compared with his tightly closed eyes, jaw so tense it might shatter and the fact he had stopped moving entirely out of fear he wouldn't even make it all the way in before filling the condom. You reached up to touch his face, stroking his cheek, brushing your thumb down his nose.

"Sieun" you murmured. "You okay?"

He nodded tightly.

"Yeah. Just...wait for me? I - I can't...I don't want to come yet."

You nodded, then tilted his head down so you could kiss him, your mind going pleasantly blank as you breathed him in and your hips started moving on their own as they always did whenever you were kissing him. Sensation pushed solidly through you and you gasped, head throwing back just in time for Sieun to groan a strangled noise into your throat.

You barely knew what you'd done, but your body was singing it to you, all chords humming and blazing at once: he was inside you. You stretched languorously and Sieun rocked gently, desperately deeper inside you, keening quietly. You gazed up at him, wonderstruck, hitching your hips with each of his careful thrusts.

He was quiet, but not totally. The room filled with soft moans, the slip of sheets on skin, the barely restrained desperation of trying not to come too fast.

But he couldn't help it. You were too good, too warm and wet and sweet wrapped around him, crying out to him each time he moved. You cried his name, fingers in his hair, and he was gone.

He finished with a gasp of your name and a shudder, spilling out and collapsing onto your chest. You held him tight, still warm and full of him. Until he started to worry the condom might break and slowly eased out of you to get rid of it.

When he returned to his bed, he was blushing and shy, shoulders rounding. But you sat up, still naked, and hugged him, fierce and close.

"You're perfect" you whispered in his ear. "Let's do it again tomorrow."

You had never seen him smile so big.

Tagging: @writingmysanity

[llamagoddessofficial]

Has anyone requested Fae Dust’s datemate HCs yet? If not, can we have some?

I also saw @owl-bones' Dust art, anon. And I very much agree its sexy

Don't think I need to tell you that he's hard to read

Get used to having no clue how he really feels.

Some wonder why he doesn't speak, when tricksy words are what the fae are known for. But in a world where every word is a trap, there's great power in not speaking at all.

... Also means it feels like there's never any pressure with Dust. You can relax around him. Blurt whatever you like, because he says barely anything in return.

When he likes you, you won't know how you know, but you'll just... know. You'll get a feeling you're being quietly appreciated. You'll get a feeling you're the only person in the room he can stand. He keeps looking at you like you and him are in on a joke no one else understands.

He'll be silent for hours, only to stun everyone in the room by chuckling at something you said.

He frequently looks your way, even if you can't see his eyelights you can tell you're being watched, and when you can see his eyelights they get visibly wider and softer.

Normally, during the rare occasions when Nightmare hosts balls or parties, Dust immediately finds some way to escape. But if you're present, he'll stay. Might even ask you to dance.

(By 'ask', I mean just gently take your hand and wordlessly lead you into it, the other skeletons too gobsmacked at his boldness to intervene)

There's a few clearer signs he likes you. He'll perform random acts of politeness for you, like holding doors and passing you things you can't reach, a big fucking deal considering you didn't ask first. He'll sit by your side, he'll stand close to you even if you're not facing one another. If you're having a conversation with another fae he looms nearby... you might mistake it for jealousy, but really, he's making it 100% clear to whoever you're talking to that if they trick you or take something of yours he's going to ensure it's returned.

..... A little jealousy too, though.

He disappears for several days at a time, seemingly out of nowhere. No one's sure what he does - rumours swirl that he goes out to do Nightmare's dirty work. The first thing he always does when he comes back is give you a small affectionate touch.

He spends a lot of time in Nightmare's library. You might find him there, if you wander that way. You can tell he appreciates the company because he doesn't leave when you show up.

You find him smoking outside, you ask for a puff of his cigarette. He takes a slow drag, then leans in and kisses you.

He'll take his hood down around you.

When he does eventually speak, you'll find that the whole time he's known you, he's been quietly making a dedicated effort to learn about the things important to you. He's very perceptive. He'll learn all about your interests, your hobbies, the things you could talk about forever... if you know another language he'll familiarise himself with the basics, if you like art he'll pick up a pencil, if you like history his satchel will be heavy with scrolls and books he's snatched from Nightmare's library for you.

It's funny how so few words can make you feel so appreciated.

He's quite the charmer, when he wants to be.

[drgnflyteabox]

☄︎₊˚˖ fusion vs. fission [1]

series masterlist | simon riley x fem!reader part two -> cosmic dance

> summary: simon learns something crucial. or, simon wants a better life for you. he's willing to do anything to get there. > tags/warnings: murder / violence / death, illness, unplanned pregnancy, poor working conditions, mining, feelings of hopelessness / numbness, hurt/comfort, softdark!simon, scifi, inspired by Alien Romulus, made up science, ambiguous shady deals

Down in the dark and the deep, the air is muggy and teeming with floating particles of dust. They stick to Simon from the damp that builds on his skin, fighting to get through his respirator with each breath.

He’d cut a man for it, watched him leak slowly into a dark offshoot of the mine. Saw the whites of his eyes shine in the lamplight for a brief, terrified moment before going dull.

Nobody had said anything about the missing man. Not the first day, nor the next.

Eventually, it passed like a ship in the sky.

The respirators were luxuries. Simon had watched his own father’s lungs go black from the work, watched him grow small and weak.

Ultimately, it was the sickness that got him. Wasn’t the endless fantasies of violence Simon had replayed in his head since childhood of revenge. 

Just a slow, bleak sickness.

He refuses to let that take him, not while you’re waiting for him to come back.

He leaves the mine, now, crammed into the shaft with his fellow workers in labour. Some have respirators, like him.

Most do not.

The mine shaft creaks, stutters, then dings at the top.

Headlamp, pick, chisel, they all go in a canvas bag, which he straps to his back. Heavy, but not terrible. He only feels it because he’s been worse for wear lately, feeling the effects of hard labour more and more as the years go by.

Still, Simon is better off than some. They walk painfully slowly in and out of their work bunkies, living close to the mines so that they might still work – might still produce labour.

Sick, is what it is. Inhuman.

He can’t bring himself to care, not really, not if he’s being honest. To acknowledge anything but you is to acknowledge how hopeless it all is.

He knows it's bad.

Must be, the way he only feels alive when he opens the door to your shitty little trailer and finally, finally breathes .

You’re asleep, though you must've tried to stay up for him, sweet as you are, and passed out waiting on the couch.

His steps are as quiet as can be as he steps through the threshold of the door, closing it behind him with a rickety sound.

Then he stops. Stares. You’re curled, knees tucked, an old blanket covering you from the shoulders.

Your cheek is pressed to your hand, neck bent, breaths deep.

He thinks you’re beautiful. Knows that you aren’t used to being called that, not when he’d first met you and not now.

But still, he tells you. Loves to watch you scrunch your nose at him and tell him you’re beautiful too, Si .

Part of it is the ultimate rejection of softness, the inability to accept good things in a world demanding that you stay numb to it lest you be burned by getting comfortable.

You complain often about that – about how he’s letting you get comfortable . Lazy, you call it, since he’s stopped letting you go to work.

I worked before I met you, Si , you always say. Doesn’t matter, he’s got you waiting safely at home now.

Bored, maybe, but not lazy. 

Simon has always tried to bring back books or precious commodities from the trade markets like yarn. Things to do. Knows you like to use your hands.

Anything but the mines. He’ll never let you work there again.

Your breath changes when he sits beside you, his weight dipping the worn couch cushion and dragging you just a little closer.

“Told ya not to wait up for me,” he grumbles as your eyes flutter open. Sleepy little cat.

“Wanted to,” you murmur back, though your words jumble and slur a little, half-awake and already leaning towards him like you’re being pulled gravitationally.

“Mm, my sweet girl,” he cups the back of your head, kissing your hair, smelling you.

You’re one of the very few people who smell clean to him. Neutral. Like laundry soap, mostly, and maybe a little bit like the hot bread they serve at breakfast.

A lot of it is just you, though. He likes your natural scent.

Your nose finds his collar, like usual, and you smell him back. He knows he likely smells of soot, of sweat and the minerals they mine on this planet.

You never care. You like how he smells, too, enough to tell him all the time. 

It’s bliss, for a moment. Contentment. He closes his eyes and forgets the haggard faces of his fellow labourers.

Forgets the inequality of it all. Forgets the ads that he walks by that promise a trip on a fancy ship to a better planet if he just worked hard enough.

They’re the only clean thing on the streets, the only things that get wiped and shined on the regular.

He shakes his head, forgets the suffering of the world, and especially of this godforsaken planet.

Then you tense.

He’s attuned to you, can tell when the atmosphere changes. 

When there’s something wrong.

His hands find your face, cradling you, thumbs at your cheeks, “what is it?” he says, brows drawn.

“I have something to tell you,” you say, and his world narrows to a pinpoint.

Simon, sit… we have something to tell you, his mother tells him, before he learns Tommy’s hooked on something bad and he’s barely hanging on.

We’ve got something to tell you, the peace officers broach without a lick of humanity when he learns his family has been killed – a mine explosion had collapsed their trailer into a sinkhole.

So his breath changes. His shoulders tense. He trusts you completely, wholly, in every way, but he’s launched into the void of space by your words and braces for impact.

Only you begin to cry. Hot, globulous tears fall down your cheeks, falling onto his wrists.

They burn worse than hot coal. Hurt worse.

“Sh, you’re alright now,” he soothes. His thumbs brush away as many tears as he can catch, “come on, don’t cry. Tell me what's wrong.”

“I don’t know how this happened,” you hiccough, trying to move your head away from him. He doesn’t let you, holding you in place and letting the stuttering of your breathing resolve itself.

“How what happened, honey?”

“Simon,” – not Si. He braces – “I’m pregnant.”

It starts to rain halfway there. The rain here is different from other planet systems – it makes the air thick with a viscous humidity, coloured with a strange glowing blue.

If he’s to believe the quackjob down the street from him, it’s apparently because this planet is rife with bioluminescent phytoplankton.

I thought plankton were from the water, silly, Tommy says in his memory. I just seen it. He’s four, then, and mostly immune to the suffering he will soon know. 

Simon had been reading to him from a shitty copy of Science for Kids! One leftover from old earth.

This is a special kind, the quackjob had told him. If I could just get a book about it, I could tell you the name … but it’s like phytoplankton!

Simon shakes his head. His mind hasn’t wandered like that in ages.

It’ll be alright, honey, he’d held you there, on the couch, mind miles away. I’ll take care of you, don’t I always? 

He tries to, at least. Has made a hundred promises about your safety, your happiness. Ones he shouldn’t have made, in hindsight, but he’s made them and he intends to fulfil them.

The bar is sparsely populated, likely due to the thick fog of rain.

Price is always there, though. 

It’d be a real sign of impending doom if he weren’t.

There, in the back. Beside him, another man Simon doesn’t know.

What he does know is that Price doesn’t work the mines. Doesn’t have to. The peace officers leave him be, too, because he’s known for making them disappear should they cause any trouble.

“Price,” Simon says gruffly. He’s not putting it on because he doesn’t have to. Naturally big and imposing, he gets the message across.

“Take a seat,” Price says.

He doesn’t make the mistake of thinking he and Price are friendly, but he does know that Price has a sprout of respect for him – it’s up to him to make it grow. To prove himself.

This is the only way for him to take care of you, now.

A deal is made.

The man’s name is Nik, and he’s a pilot. Rare thing on this planet, rarer still that he’s open to business from a man like Simon.

He wants out, and Nik has the means.

Price is included because he needs an extra man on a job, and the history between them lends for a tremulous kind of trust.

A pact built on the fact that each of them are not normal men, not normal workers. They’ve tasted violence, used it, and aren’t afraid to take their gloves off to get a job done.

When he learns of what the mine operator has done to you, he doesn’t immediately act. No, he waits. 

Simon is used to the shadows, to hiding. Used to patience.

He watched his father die, after all, didn’t act even after all that man did to him. Saw him turn to nothing before his eyes.

So he waits for the operator. Finds out his schedule.

You’d been left in the mine for hours. A support had fallen, trapping you and three others behind it. Oxygen grew sparse. No food, no light.

The operator could’ve had a recovery team there within minutes of hearing the news.

Too expensive, he’d said, and sent common miners to dig at the rubble for hours.

That, he could not forgive. Not after seeing your face, tear tracks cutting through the soot, lungs crackling for days afterwards.

Your growing fear of the dark, and of small spaces. Of being enclosed.

No, Simon could not forgive that.

That’s where Price finds him; with blood soaked into his sleeves, knuckles busted, face covered with a mask.

“Looks like you did my job for me.”

Everything comes together, brick by brick, line by line. He agrees to worse things than killing a man for his respirator, but he does it thinking of you and feels nothing for it but satisfaction and peace.

“You sure about this?” Price asks, sipping his drink. Expensive anywhere, a downright luxury here. Speaks to not only his power but his mobility.

Nobody gets off the planet, let alone does it regularly. Nobody but Price – and Nik, Simon thinks.

“I’m sure,” Simon says succinctly. He is, and has never been surer about anything else. There are no boundaries he won’t break for you, nothing he won’t agree to get you out of this hellhole.

Everything’s being expedited now, thanks to the little life growing inside you.

He can’t afford to waste any more time.

You’re still asleep where he left you when he gets back. On the bed this time, covered in a mound of knit blankets.

Your brow is furrowed, even asleep, body curled protectively.

Fuck, that makes his heart squeeze in his chest. Fear, uncertainty, inadequacy. Everything runs through him at one like a herd of wild horses, trampling the earth in their wake.

He crawls in with you, in front of you, staring at your sleeping face. You’re so beautiful, he thinks again.

His knuckles find your cheek, gently touching, eyes dipping down to the curve of your body beneath the blankets.

“S’gonna be alright, sweet girl,” he murmurs, “I’ve got it covered.”

[majoryeager104]

Hello again I hope you are doing well!! Could you do what Dabi x reader night time routine would be like? with it ending in reader sleeping in dabi’s arms. I just want him to cuddle me rn so bad😪

gahhh same he seems so cuddleable (he’d burn us both alive for saying such things but it’s worth it)

✦••······················••✦•······················•✦••······················••✦

The thing about working in the league is that everything was always so damn messy. Every single mission or job you were sent on, you had to go perfectly unnoticed or else seemingly all of Japan would be out looking for you. The league is infamous, the danger came with the role and you’d expected it, but that isn’t to say you’d always return to base sore and worn to your limit, slouching inside and going straight to bed.

And Touya did the exact same, except sometimes you’d wonder if it was harder for him. You were close, you knew how badly his fire effected him, and every one of those strenuous nights when he’d come back as exhausted with you, he was always hacking up his lungs from all the smoke he’d inhaled. It was why he’d always end up in your room, because having you around to pass him water and rub his back had always been quite a comfort to him.

Your night routine with Touya was a short one; you’d make tea for the both of you, and he’d make the bed, coughing and muttering curses as he did. It seemed miserable, but he’d always swear up and down that it was worse to be alone. He meant it of course, but, well, he’s Touya, so you were never really sure. Next, you’d drink tea and sit together, talking about your missions, your days, that new noodle place that was built down the block that Touya insisted on dragging you to as soon as it was open. Then you’d brush your teeth in silence, the usual hygiene stuff- one thing I almost forgot to mention was that you’d gotten him into skincare, and sometimes you’d do masks together. Sometimes. (If you were to ask Touya himself if this was true, he’d growl and walk away with his hands stuffed in his pockets, muttering to himself as he stomped off like a toddler)

Your favorite part about this night routine of yours was going to bed afterwards (real), but Touya’s favorite part was actually just before that. Most nights, if you let him, when the two of you finally get to bed, he always likes getting your hairbrush off the nightstand and just combing through your hair- untangling, smoothing it over, eventually braiding it when you taught him how (sometimes, but he has a hard time doing it and sometimes just gives up before he can finish) but in summary, to him it’s the most calming part of the night.

Then, after everything else has been settled, he turns out the light and gets under the sheets with you. It’s no secret that he is definitely the big spoon, but most nights he actually prefers just laying completely on top of you, his head in the crook of your neck. Sometimes the two of you just lay there and chat, sometimes you lay completely silent, but one thing he always does is plants kisses on your skin at random intervals till he falls asleep, his soft snores filling the room as you stroke your fingers through his hair.

✦••······················••✦•······················•✦••······················••✦

not me daydreaming the hairbrush part omg

[mirhashi]

SEAS UNFORTUNATE SOUL CHAPTER 2. Everything hurt. Odysseus woke up on a hard floor. The last thing he remembered was being dragged down with Poseidon forever. He blacked out before he was able to see where they were going. He lifted his head slowly, a pain shooting through his body causing him to wince in pain. He slowly looked around; he was in a stone room, most likely a dungeon—he couldn’t tell. He tried to move his arms, but that’s when he realized there were chains around his wrists and ankles. He went limp against the wall. He looked up; he wasn’t dead, but he wished he was.

He heard footsteps, causing him to jerk and cower in the corner. “Ah, you’re awake!” A female voice called out, “Lord Poseidon dropped you off in here and told us to check on you.” The woman walked over to his cell door and opened it. She moved over to him. Odysseus moved away from her, clearly scared. “If it makes you feel any better, Poseidon made it clear to all the servants we can’t harm you; only he could,” she said, slowly reaching out and unchaining him. “What are you doing…?” He asked and looked at the chains.

“The master wanted us to make sure you’re shown around. He said you can’t be a good servant if you don’t know your way around,” she said, helping him up. She led him out of the dungeon. She showed him around. The palace was covered with sea green decorations and gold designs across the wall. It was clear it belonged to a god. He looked out a window to see they were underwater with fish swimming around.

“How…” “If you’re wondering how the glass isn’t breaking from the pressure, I do not know myself, just that it does,” she said, looking at him before continuing down the hall.

“Where is…he?” Odysseus whispered, looking at the woman. “He said he had to go deal with something; he will be back,” she said, looking back at him. Odysseus looked around; he needed a way out. “There’s no way out unless he takes you himself,” she said as if she could read his mind. Odysseus looked at the ground. They kept walking around the servant, explaining different things and how things work. She introduced Odysseus to the others. “That’s the lord’s room; none of us are allowed in there,” she said as they passed by a room. “This is the lord’s bedroom; one of the servants will help when it comes to waking him up,” she said the last part a bit uneasily. They kept talking, and eventually they started talking about what happened before they became servants. After that they cleaned a little.

Poseidon wasn’t there all day. Odysseus was glad he wasn’t. He didn’t even want to think what he would do to him. After a while the servants started to head to what seemed like their room.

“I don’t know where Lord Poseidon wants you to stay yet, but if you’d like, you can come with me and stay with me,” she said. “I’m good... I’ll go back and stay in that…cell,” he whispered. After being with Calypso for seven years, he didn’t trust staying in a room with a woman sleeping. He made his way to the cell. Oh, how uncomfortable it looked! He sat down in there, curling up in the corner. He felt so weak; he will never again see his wife and son because of his stupidity.

There were still screams in his head. He covered his ears, the same word being repeated: “Captain! Captain!” They haunted him. “Captain! Why would you let the cyclops live when ruthlessness is mercy!” He curled up on the floor. Tears falling down his face.

“Odysseus!” A voice rang out, waking him up. He sat up, his body sore from the hard floor. It was the woman. “The lord isn’t back yet, so I assume he must be at Mt. Olympus.” She said, Help him, but in the meantime, we have work to do.” She helped him around, explaining the routines that they do and how he could help.

“Though you might be a personal servant to Lord Poseidon from the way he was speaking,” she said. They walked around as they started to get some stuff done. He learned her name was Eleni. They were talking and cleaning when Odysseus felt a presence walking into the room. He tensed up. The servants bowed their heads, and Odysseus did the same, not daring to look at him. He moved over. “Glad you guys met,” Poseidon said, his clawed hand coming up and grabbing Odysseus’s face, forcing him to look up. “Look at you, King of Ithaca, the man who blinded my son, who insulted the gods, finally in his place as a servant for the gods,” he sneered, throwing him into a wall. Odysseus yelped in pain as he slowly sat up. The servants took a step back. “Out,” Poseidon said to them. They all left. Eleni looked at Odysseus before leaving. “I should give you to my son so he can make you feel the pain he did,” Poseidon said, grabbing Odysseus’s hair. Odysseus whimpered as he tried to pull Poseidon’s hand away from his hair. Poseidon only tightened his grip. “But my son will end up killing you,” he sneered, slamming Odysseus’s face into the ground. Odysseus cried out in pain, blood trickling down his face. “And where’s the fun in that?” he said, walking away. “Go get cleaned up and clean up that blood on the floor,” Poseidon said, leaving the room. Odysseus groaned in pain as he sat up. He wiped his nose, blood smearing on his hand.

Eleni walked in, seeing Odysseus cleaning the blood mess. “Are you ok?” She asked, walking over, “I don’t know, a god practically just used me as a toy to take his anger out on.” He grumbled as he finished cleaning the mess. “It will get easier...hopefully,” she whispered, helping him. He looked at the ground, shaking his head. “No, it won’t. That god held a grudge for ten years…” he whispered.

The time went by slowly. Anytime Poseidon needed something, Odysseus was the one that needed to do it. Every time, he got a new bruise or scar from it. He was slammed into a wall, blood dripping down his head. “Lord Poseidon, I’m sorry for questioning you, but at this point you might kill him!” Eleni finally spoke up. Poseidon glared at her before turning. “Clean that blood up,” he snapped, walking off, his hair flowing behind him like water. His toga dragging against the floor. ‘Clean that blood up.’ He heard that same sentence maybe five times today. Eleni helped him clean up before patching him up. “At this point…I’m going to be dead by tomorrow.” He whispered, wincing as Eleni wiped his face. “I’m sorry…” she whispered.

Poseidon did keep his side of the deal, though…

Ithaca, Telemachus was returning home after a mission he went on. He hoped that maybe when he docked his ship, his father would be there with his mother, but he knew that was just a dream. He docked his ship, and climbing down, he helped some of his crew unload the supplies. He walked until a group of men jumped out of the bushes. They tackled the young prince. “Get off me!” He yelled for his crew to come help, but another group of men held them back. Antinous walked out with a knife in his hand. “This is going to be fun,” he smiled, flipping the knife. Telemachus struggled as best he could, but the men were too strong. The water around the shore started to grow chaotic. Antinous went to slice the boy's throat, but something threw him back—something powerful. He hit the tree hard. Telemachus looked up, moving away as the suitors cowered back, seeing the figure in front of them. “Poseidon…?” Telemachus whispered, backing up. An owl flew by, landing near Telemachus. Even as an owl, Telemachus could tell Athena was confused. “How I love your attempt. Unfortunately, I can’t let you kill these boys; he and his mother will be under my protection for the time being,” Poseidon said, not really seeming happy. The suitors back up. “And your time as being a suitor is unfortunately over; you can go back to your normal life. The queen will rule by herself,” he said, knowing he was getting kind of bored. That’s when one of the suitors spoke up. “You can’t take that away from us!” Dumb idea. Poseidon looked at him. “Oh, I can’t? And who are you to tell a god what I can and can’t do?” he said, moving over to him. “Say it again…I dare you,” Poseidon said in a low tone. The suitor cowered in fear. “I’m sorry, Lord Poseidon!” He said, falling to his knees and bowing. Poseidon stood up straight, wiping off his toga. “Disgusting,” he sneered. “Y’all can go now,” he said, flipping his hand. The suitors practically ran. He turned, and that’s when he was faced with Athena. “What the fuck are you doing?!” She snapped, “Does it matter?” He said, raising an eyebrow. “Why are they under your protection? What did you do!” She sneered, “I didn’t do anything; I just made a deal. I’m holding my part of the deal. Come on, Athena, I have some dignity,” he said, looking at her and then at Telemachus. He sneered, “You look just like your father.” Telemachus sat up. “My father? Is he alive? Is he ok?! You've seen him! Where is he? Telemachus said quickly. Poseidon blinked. “You ask too many questions,” he sneered. Athena stepped in. “What did you do to Odysseus?” she snapped. “I only made a deal: he comes and serves me for life, and I protect his family.” Poseidon shrugged. “You can’t…” “I can, and I did. The deal was already made; no going back now.” He said, narrowing his eyes at Athena.

Poseidon walked with Telemachus and Athena back to the palace. Poseidon told Penelope that she will no longer need suitors and she and her son will be under his protection from now on. As Poseidon left to go back to the ocean, Athena stopped him. “If I find out you killed Odysseus!” She said, “Oh, Athena, he isn’t your student anymore. After all, you said your goodbyes. He is my servant now.” He smiled, going into the water, and said, “And I’ll do whatever I want to my servant,” before he merged with the water, disappearing from view.

[frogemeat]

Back on my shit for my relativity falls AU where Stan goes missing because I can!! And no one can stop me!

So let’s actually dive into the characters a bit more this time and their reactions to Stan’s disappearance.

We’re going to start with Mabel because I feel like in any universe Mabel and Stan have a special connection, one where they just understand eachother, y’know?

In my relativity falls au, Stan is reluctant to open up at first to Mabel. Surprisingly it was Ford who warmed up to her first. Stan, at first, is very distrustful of adults and people in authority in general (when I get you Filbrick, when I get you-) so he keeps distance between himself and Mabel at first.

He’s his usual rambunctious self, loud and unapologetic about, but he doesn’t rant to her about the latest addition of his favorite comic, he doesn’t let her look at his drawings and anytime she wants to spend one on one time on him he would turn her down. Eventually he warmed up to her, which is more my actual relativity falls au then this, so I won’t go into it (unless someone wants me to 👀).

So when I say Mabel worked hard, she worked hard to get Stan’s trust. And she’s proud of that dammit!

To her Stan is such a bright star who’s often overlooked by his genius of a twin brother (something she can heavily relate too) and she wanted to nurture his creativity. And she did!

She displayed the weird Frankenstein taxidermy he made in the shack, she taught him how to knit and sew and he even started to let her watch “the duchess approves” with her!

They grew close and Mabel started to see both the twins as her sons. She had suspicions that their home life was… less than good and she was SUPER unsure about sending them home after summer ended. She didn’t think the decision would’ve been made for her.

Weirdmaggdeon was over. They won. Steve (Bill’s replacement in this AU) is gone. But they weren’t celebrating. The only thought the three Pines had was…

Where’s Stan?

They searched the woods for him long at the r the sun set. She had to drag Ford back home when he started tripping over his own feet, his exhaustion evident. Ford tried to insist he was okay, that he could keep looking, that he needed to keep looking, that Stan was out there, he needed to continue. Stan would keep looking for him if their roles were reversed.

All Mabel could do was shush him as he cried against her shoulder.

Dipper stayed behind and kept looking and both Mabel and Ford went home without their other half. Long after Ford had passed out Dipper had finally come home, empty handed. They spent the rest of the night talking about what to do. They would check town first thing in the morning, they had decided. Maybe in his daze he had wandered out of the woods and one of the townsfolk’s found him. If not, they would go to the police, see if anyone had reported a small brown haired preteen wandering around. (

They also discussed the possibility of Stan being dead, but Mabel couldn’t even stomach the thought of it. They quickly stopped when Mabel started to cry.)

She had just met the twins, only known them for three months, yet they were hers. Her boys. Her babies. Her peanut and walnut. And Stan was gone.

The boy she swore to protect, the boy who pretended he was tough when he was really the sweetest kid she ever met.

Days go by and still no Stan. Ford refuses to talk to anyone, Dipper is out of the house for most of the day searching, and Mabel is left alone, surrounded by half finished knitting projects and echoes of a boy who’s laughter warmed her heart.

She cries a lot. That’s all she does for the first few months.

One day, after Ford’s parents (not Stan and Ford’s, just Ford’s, because apparently no one remember’s her little peanut outside of Gravity Falls) drops off all his stuff for his apprenticeship with Dipper, she’s pulls herself together, makes her famous Mabelcakes, and starts to rebuild. Dipper had done amazing keeping them together, but it was time for some Mabel magic.

Three years pass and the Stan shaped hole in their family doesn’t get smaller. Ford still turns to his right whenever he gets excited, Mabel still hasn’t watched the season finale of “the duchess approves” (she couldn’t finish it without Stan, not when he was so excited to show it to her), and Dipper sometimes still goes into the woods to search.

Ford is turning 17 in a few weeks. June 15th. She’s in Greasy’s after deciding that a snack sounded good after buying birthday presidents for her walnut and instead of Susan greeting her and taking her order like she has since she started working there, she was greeted with a new face.

A familiar face.

Even older, more pimply, and with a beanie pulled down so far it almost covered his eyes, she would recognize him.

Her peanut.

[dckweed]

THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND ➺ bob floyd

summary: In which bob floyd gets himself into a bit of a pickle and calls on his hot, recently single neighbor to help him out, the situation is mutually beneficial..in more ways than one.

warnings: fake dating, violence, domestic violence mentioned, nicknames, slowburn, eventual smut.

this is an x reader fic where reader is referred to as sunshine or sunny as a nickname, also i know the moodboard is a lil wonky no one say anything im gonna fix it! i made it on my phone half asleep lmao.

comment below for taglist!

wordcount: 2260

 PART ONE - THE LIE. 

The music was soft in the background for once, his friends laughter the loudest thing in the room. Bob couldn’t help but to laugh along with them as he took a swig of his third beer of the night, a little more than tipsy but not completely drunk. He knew he was a lightweight, and this was the only time he ever preferred to drink, in the comfort of his own home surrounded by people he trusted. His friends were all gathered around his coffee table, some of them on the couch, some of them sprawled on the floor as they laughed and goofed off, the NHL game they had all gathered to watch together no longer a top priority. 

Bradley and Natasha had been talking about the blind dates they had been on recently, set up by each other, each of them pointing out the flaws in the others choosing with racious laughter as they knocked back their alcohol and made a mess of Bob’s coffee table as they playfully fought each other, Bradley flipping over the bowl of potato chips that was sat out as he kicked his leg across the table from the floor to hit his friend. Bob laughs at the scene, not minding the mess because the situation was just so funny and he was for once in his life, enjoying being in the moment. 

“Look what you did, numbnuts! You spilled all the chips!” Hangman shouts, tossing his couch pillow at them from where he lay on the love seat across from Bob. Bradley catches it mid-air and tosses it back to Jake, a terrible throw and a clear enough window into how drunk he is because it doesn’t get any air and knocks clear into the row of open bud lights, knocking them over and causing what was left to slosh out onto the floor. Javy groans, slipping out of the chair he was sat in to pick up the bottles as Bob gets up to get a towel to sop up the wet beer from his outrageously expensive rug so his little shih tzu, Cosie wouldn’t go licking it up when he passed out tonight. 

He was only gone for a few moments but by the time he came back the subject of dating had suddenly been turned to him. He shakes his head, trying not to think to hard about how he was way more than tipsy by that point because the whole room started to spin when he did that. “No, not dating right now.” He says, kneeling down to start cleaning up the mess as Javy comes back from throwing away the bottles. 

Jake scoffs from next to him taking a long drag of his own beer, and Bob braces himself for whats coming next. “Of course not,” He says, a small bit of disdain in his tone, but Bob knew it was all just friendly teasing, even if it did hurt him. Even if he was so tired of constantly hearing from everyone about how he needed to get out into the dating pool. Truthfully, he was tired of being single, but he didn’t need these jack offs meddling in his love life the way Natasha had been doing with her blind dates with girlfriends she’d made off base. It just didn’t work out for him, it never did. 

But god, he was tired of hearing it from Jake about how he was ‘too afraid of girls’ to actually go out and date one, they were grown ass adults, weren’t they? Why did it matter what he did with his personal life outside of work and the friend group? He didn’t like to date around, he liked relationships. Besides, he wasn’t afraid of girls either. That one was starting to piss him off, wither away at that self control that his mama swore he was born with too much of. Not that any of them needed to know that..so why then, did he feel like proving them all wrong?

He knew in the back of his drunk mind that his next choice of words was not a good one to make, and he had just dug himself into a terribly deep hole that would haunt him for the rest of his life (good god he would probably have to change placements if they ever fucking found out, or better yet, retire from the navy altogether). But Lord help him, he opened his mouth anyway and let the words out. 

“I don’t think my girlfriend would like me seeing other people.” He says, taking a kind of sick pleasure in hearing Jake snort beer out of his nose as he sits up so quickly he falls off of the couch, his words catching the attention of his other friends too. “What?” He asks, looking around at all of their gaping faces. He regretted his lie immediately. “Is it so hard to picture me with a girlfriend? I am capable of getting one, you know.” A dig at Jake just for the fucking fun of it. 

There was a long moment of silence before all of their voices were flooding his ears at once, questions coming from all directions. It was almost as if the news had shocked them sober. 

What did I just do? 

THE WEEK PREVIOUS- 

Sunshine Y/L/N, was many things, a bitch, a whore, a liar, a psycho (all depending on which of her ex-boyfriends and family members you asked),..but a fool was not one of them. You were not foolish enough to let a man raise a hand to you and cower away and accept his apology because you thought you deserved it or because it would placate him. And so when the asshole you had been in the midst of arguing with because he swore to god that you were fucking the bouncer at work (you would never, you weren’t in to bald men who looked like broke versions of mr. clean) cocked his arm back and slapped you across the face so hard that blood splattered from your nose, you clenched a fist and let all hell break loose. 

You had screamed, and screamed and screamed and had thrown anything that you could get hands on, drawing blood on his forehead as an empty flower vase shattered against the wall that she shared with her neighbor. “Look what you did, you crazy bitch!” He yelled, holding a hand to his forehead, offended that you had dared to retaliate against him. 

You sucked in a deep breath, fists clenching. There was nothing you hated more than being called crazy. You were not crazy. You were not fucking crazy. “Get out.” You breathed, a surprisingly steady hand pointing towards the door that was being banged on from an outside source. The man looks at you as if you were a bull with three heads. “Are you deaf? I said get the fuck OUT!” You had bellowed, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him to the door, it took all of three seconds to throw open the chain locking the door before tossing the sorry fucker out, straight into your neighbor, Bob, who had very obviously been banging on the door. 

“Woah-” The tall, lanky man had said, catching the rat bastard who had been flung out at him. He pushes him off of him, noticing the blood on his face and looks at you, the blood streaming from your nose. “Are you okay?” He asks, his immediate thought on his neighbor as watched the guy storm off towards the stairwell at the end of the hallway. 

You sniffed, jaw clinched as you nod, watching the jerkoff walk away before running back inside. Bob follows as you yank open the window in the living room before running back down a hallway, to the bedroom he assumed. Bob had looked around at the mess of glass and blood splatters on the floor, wondering what the fuck had taken pace. He had heard yelling, and glass shattering and had run over trying to open the door. “Mother fucker, DON’T YOU EVER COME BACK HERE!” You scream, tossing a heap of clothes out of the window and down onto the street, Bob heard a mans yell and knew they must’ve landed directly on the offending asshole. “Stupid fucking son of a fucking bitch.” 

“Um, Sunny,” Bob says, placing a gentle hand on your slender shoulder. You were shaking, with fear or anger he isn’t sure but he wants to help. “Are you okay?” He doesn’t know what else to ask, what else to do. He’d never been in this kind of situation before. 

He watches you raise a hand and use the back of it to wipe your bloody nose before turning around to face him, your friendly neighbor whose dog you often watched when he had to work overnights at the base or when he had been on his deployment for the uranium mission. Blood smeared across your upper lip and cheek as you look up at him, eyes watery and full of an emotion he couldn’t quite decipher. The smile on your face is terrifyingly sexy. “Just peachy, bobby,” You whispered, blinking the tears in your eyes away as you set your shoulders squarely. “My step-daddy didn’t raise no fucking bitch, a man like him wants to hit me, he better be prepared for me to hit him back ten times fucking harder.” 

Bob didn’t know what to say, so he resulted for saying a simple okay and stayed around to help you clean up the mess that littered your normally spotless living room. He had even ordered you pizza while you were in the bathroom cleaning up your face, paying for it without telling you because he knew you would argue. He knew you made good money in your line of work, he knew you liked paying for your own things, but he was a gentleman nonetheless and wanted to take care of a neighbor who was clearly in some kind of need of support. He had stayed until you had fallen asleep, silently letting himself out of your apartment and the pair of you hadn’t crossed paths until a week later, granted, you hadn’t left your apartment much (you couldn’t very well go to work with a bruise on your face, it certainly wouldn’t bode well with your bosses nor with your customers) for your paths to have crossed to begin with. 

You were surprised to say the least when a knock sounded on your apartment door early in the morning on Saturday, and even moreso when you opened to find none other than your adorable next door neighbor (and, in a way, your savior) standing in your doorframe, hands in the pockets of his jeans and a cute little crease in between his eyebrows as he looked up at you from where he was looking at his shoes. “Hey Bob, everything okay?” You ask, wiping the sweat away from your forehead. You had been doing an intense pilates session in your living room, a good way to keep you limber and fit for your job. “Are you going on deployment or something? Do you need me to take Cosie?”

“No, no..” Bob shakes his head, he felt stupid for coming over here, for not just immediately fessing up to his friends about his dumb lie. He should just turn around and go back to his apartment and call it a day, and he was going to until his fuckin’ phone buzzed in his pocket and he was reminded of why he had told the damn lie in the first place. “Um, actually, do you think I could come in? I have a favor to ask of you, and it’s..a big one.” 

You were confused but allowed him to come in nonetheless, shutting and locking the door behind him as he did. What could he possibly need from you that wasn’t watching his dog while he was away? You couldn’t say you weren’t keen to find out, you were bored out of your mind and you couldn’t help but wonder what he needed from you of all people. Bob had literally seen you at your worst last week, and yet here he was inside of your apartment with his hands awkwardly shoved into the front pockets of his boot cut jeans, his pretty eyes flitting about, finding anything to look at that wasn’t your breasts that were pushed up in your slightly too small lulu lemon top. 

“What’s up, Bobby?” You asked, headed to your kitchen that over looked the living room. You grabbed a bottle of water out of your slowly emptying fridge and twisted open the cap, taking a hefty sip. 

“Um..” He says, his lips pursing as his eyebrows furrow together somehow even deeper. He blows air out of his nose and finally looks up at you, taking his hands out of his pockets only to place them on his hips, awkwardly. “I need you to be my girlfriend.” He says and you snort your water out of your nose on accident, choking on it at the first mention of the words as you tried to process them. “Oh fuck-” 

TAGLIST-

@mamachasesmayhem

[obitez]

Three Words

Another Buck/Tommy fic! (Not a Bean one though, one will be out soon 😉)

Summary: Tommy has been waiting months to hear Buck say those three words. (I love you)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they first started dating, Tommy told Buck that they could take their relationship at whatever pace he wanted. 

And he meant that wholeheartedly. 

Sure, things got a little rocky after that first date, but they got through it. It was all cleared up by the second. 

They were going strong. Their relationship was going strong. Their relationship was going places Tommy had never thought it would go. 

Further than Tommy thought his pathetic love life would go with anyone. 

After their second date (if you could call it that), at the coffee shop, they sort of came to an unspoken agreement that they would go at Buck’s pace. Tommy just hadn’t expected that to mean they would be fucking each other in bed less than 24 hours later and Buck would be dragging Tommy around Maddie and Chimney’s wedding. (No one had told him that Buck’s sister was engaged to Chimney!)

Both Eddie and Bobby had told him that Buck liked to do things fast, he didn’t really understand how fast they meant at the time, but he had no problem with it. 

Later, Hen and Karen might have threatened him a little at the medal ceremony, but backed off when Tommy told them he was going at Buck’s pace. 

So for the next six months, that was what Tommy did, go at Buck’s pace. When Buck wanted to introduce Tommy to his parents, he went ahead with him. 

When Buck gave Tommy a key to his loft, Tommy gave Buck a key to his house. 

When Buck asked if Tommy minded if Jee joined them on their hike up a mountain because both her parents were called into a shift at the last minute, Tommy carried her on his shoulders the entire way. 

When Buck hinted at wanting to move in together, Tommy was quick to tell him that he would start moving the furniture in his house for when Buck was ready. 

Tommy was fine with going at Buck’s pace. Really, he was. 

There was just one thing though. 

In the last six months, he had fallen hard for Buck, and he meant hard.

He didn’t think that any of his past relationships have even gotten close to how he felt for Buck now. 

He loved Evan Buckley, from his little birthmark on his adorable face, to his marvelous body, to his penchant for research binges, to his laugh, to his cooking skills, to his everflowing loving heart for everyone around him. 

He loved Evan Buckley, now he just needed to figure out how and when to tell him. 

He thought about how and when to do it for so long, Tommy started questioning himself. 

What would Buck do if Tommy said it? 

Tommy had told Buck he would go at Buck’s speed? What if this was too fast for him? This would bring a new stage to their relationship. What if Buck wasn’t ready for this? Should he just wait until Buck was ready? Until Buck said those three words first? 

He eventually over-thought it as he did a lot of things like this, over-thinking it enough, they reached and passed their six month anniversary. 

🔶 🔶 🔶 🔶 🔶 

The ending credits of Jurassic Park scrolled past on the screen, Tommy looked down at Buck’s head resting on his chest. The man was passed out and spread across him. He swore that would be the last time he let Buck pick a movie out, he always fell asleep halfway through them. Tommy always told himself that everytime this happened, but he always let Buck pick out the next movie anyway.

 Tommy smiled and continued slowly rubbing the hand that he had on Buck’s back. He blinked and then looked at the clock across the room. It was late, neither of them had work the next morning, but they still had plans. He needed to get to sleep soon. The remote to turn the TV off was in reach, but the lightswitch to turn off the overhead lights? 

In instances like these, Tommy really wished he had Buck’s ability to fall asleep no matter the lighting conditions. It was too bright for him right now. But at the same time, Tommy knew his boyfriend was a light sleeper. If he got up now to walk the three feet to the lightswitch on the wall, Buck would wake up and it would be at least an hour of activities before either of them went to sleep again. 

Maybe he shouldn’t listen to Eddie and just bite the bullet and buy a Hildy. Those things can’t be that bad. He’d be able to ring it up to turn off the lights without getting out of bed. 

Tommy carefully got out of bed, moving the pillows around to disturb Buck as little as possible. 

He wasn’t successful.

“Tommy?” Buck’s sleep filled voice asked as Tommy flipped the lightswitch to send the room into darkness. 

“Shh,” Tommy hushed. “Just turning off the lights, go back to sleep.” 

“Hmm,” Buck hummed unhappily as Tommy returned to bed, getting under the covers as pulling Buck back to where he was sleeping on his chest. 

It was quiet for a couple moments, Tommy was just about to fall asleep into deep oblivion when he heard Buck speak. 

“I love you,” Buck mumbled into Tommy’s ear. Hearing those words, Tommy tensed and turned his head to look into Buck’s eyes. He couldn’t exactly see them right now, it was too dark, but he could feel the stare. 

Those weren’t words Buck mumbled half asleep or only half paying attention. He meant those words. 

He loved Tommy. 

“Oh, thank God,” Tommy mumbled as he angled his neck and kissed Buck on the top of his head. 

Buck hummed in slight confusion and he went up onto an elbow and looked down at Tommy, silently asking for an explanation of what Tommy meant by that comment. 

“I’ve been waiting weeks for you to say that,” Tommy said as he sat up and quickly moved around Buck, pinning him onto the bed lying on his back. 

“Oh?” Buck hummed, taunting him. 

It seemed Buck would be getting exactly what he wanted that night. 

Tommy leant down. “I love you too,” he mumbled into Buck’s ear before he pulled him into a deep kiss. 

[etherealily]

Omg Tom and his girlfriend definitely argue over his attitude problems like when he’s asked to dust or anything he instantly shoots a dirty look and to be honest Tom totally has an rbf to begin with but when he’s mad he full on looks like he’s plotting murder and he’s bad about giving his girlfriend super bitchy responses

🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

Fights :

Usually, he warns his girl when he's bringing friends over, or when he's coming home drunk or high.

But sometimes, he just figures it's his penthouse anyway.

So, after a shitty day at work, his girl's squeezed between overgrown frat boys, cokeheads and a DJ who seems to be having a stroke and hitting the volume button one too many times.

Oh, and a boyfriend trying to get her to make out in front of everyone because they'll probably cheer.

"Can we not, Tom?"

Rule number one. His girl has to be down for anything, even trophy-girlfriending.

"Alright, fine, if you don't want to be around me, then fuck off, okay? Geez, don't need to tell me twice.", he'll murmur in her ear when she asks for some space, because of the fact that he's only looked at her a total of two times the past two hours.

"Jesus, you're not listening!", she hisses.

"Okay, great, so now you're mad, what are you, fucking PMS-ing?"

"You're three shots in on a Tuesday night, acting like a fucking frat boy, alright? Grow up, Tom."

"You grow up, maybe try not to sulk every FUCKING minute of every day!"

"Fuck you, alright? Shut this shit down."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, did you just tell me, the owner of this penthouse to shut my party down?"

Yeah, I'm sorry, what can I say, he's an asshole himbo. Asshole first, himbo second.

"Then I guess I better fucking leave then, huh?"

"Yeah, buzzkill, shoo!"

When she flips him off on her way up to the bedroom, he tries one last thing. "Jesus fucking Christ, baby, this is, like..." He takes a shot. "Fucking insane. Like, psychotic. You're — whoa — the crazy ex-girlfriend I'll have to tell stories about during sex."

Raucous laughter.

And then you're suddenly on opposite sides of the room, trying to ignore each other. Hard to, when he's almost always the only voice everyone can hear, and you can feel his murder-gaze on you.

Almost feels like you're being hunted, like he's waiting for you to fuck up.

Eventually, though, by his tenth drink or so, he's dragging you to a bathroom and getting on his knees, and you're on your third drink by then, so it all works out.

=======

Attitude :

"The fuck is that look for?" is what rings throughout the penthouse 24/7.

"Before you turn this into some feminist thing, just know that I'll probably mess it up worse."

"How could you possibly not know how to fold fucking laundry at this age? And besides, we're packing for you!"

"Isn't that the fucking... like... machine's job?"

"Please be kidding."

He's miffed that he's sitting here doing laundry and mumbling god-knows-what to himself when he's supposed to be able to relax in his own home.

"THERE! That! That's it, that's the fucking face that drives me insane!"

He looks up. "What face? I'm not making a face."

"YEAH, you are, like you're five and I just stole your candy, or told you that you can't draw on the walls!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He doesn't believe it until she literally records it and he tries to pass it off as a smolder.

[galaxiasgreen]

🍺🖤This Hell We Create

Sebastian x F!Muggle!Reader with eventual smut, minor Garrinis [E-rated, 4.8k words]

"You ain't got a bad face either, lad. You looking for a partner? My daughter is quite beautiful." You hope Sebastian will chalk all that to the mania, but he wiggles his eyebrows at you. "That she is, sir."

You have a bad day – Sebastian seeks to change that.

[MASTERLIST][FIRST][PREV][NEXT] [read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

TW: alcoholism, grief, coarse language, dementia/ Alzheimer's disease.

3. good days, bad days

When Sebastian collapses onto the barstool, you can see the withdrawal written like plain English on his face.

"You know what I want," he croaks. "Please."

It's another typical weekday in a late summer heatwave. You pour him a stout and slide it across the counter, and as he guzzles it greedily, Adam's apple bobbing to the rhythm, you note the haggard look on his face. He's handsome, that's for sure, but today he's also worn down, stretched and contracted by the universe itself to leave this brittle husk behind.

"You looked like you needed that."

He slams the glass down.

"There are good days and there are bad days," he says, panting hard. "Today... today is a bad day."

He drags his thumb up his temple, plying one of the veins that protrudes across. He's sweating, from the heat and the relief, and you watch a fat droplet roll down his face. It sets a course along his jaw, down the sharp angle of his chin before it finally drips onto the back of his hand.

"You shouldn't stop immediately," you say, forcing yourself to look away. "You need to give time for your body to adjust."

"You think I don't know that?"

You say nothing.

He recoils a little. "Sorry. Shouldn't snap."

"Irritability," you mumble. "It's a symptom."

"That explains why everything is so fucking annoying today." His eyes meet yours. "You must've seen loads like me."

"Eight years' worth, yeah. You're not the first and you won't be the last."

"Have you ever..." He swallows. "How many have beat it?"

The answer leaps fully formed onto your tongue. None. None at all. You've seen people try, make promises to God when they're broken and on their knees... and you've seen those same people stagger their way back to your counter, begging for respite the only way they know how. Sometimes you never see them again, when someone imparts the sad news dressed in funeral black.

"Just because I ain't seen it doesn't mean it didn't happen – doesn't happen. It's possible." Sebastian is much too clever for lies and sickly sweet encouragement, but you stare at him straight anyway. "You survived the passing of your sister. That toughens a person. You can beat this."

Yet he thrusts his empty glass in your direction, a wordless plea that breaks your heart. You refill it in exchange for more coin, and Sebastian doesn't take his eye off your movements – pulling the leaver down, pouring the dark gold liquid, letting the foam float to the top. A skein spills over when you pass it back to him, and he draws his tongue up the glass slowly to lick it clean. You track it hungrily.

"It's all bloody pointless, isn't it?"

You focus on his eyes again, coffee, ground, chewed up and spat out.

"I'll keep trying. Every day I wake up and I just want to drink, and I tell myself no, because that's how it's supposed to be, but everyone knows I'll come back here. If Ominis took my feet I'd crawl on my knees, and if he took my knees I'd drag myself by my hands. I'd find a way. It just doesn't stop."

"It stops," you say, "when you choose to stop."

"It doesn't work like that. You know it doesn't." He gazes at you stormily over the lip of his glass. "Just because you choose to free yourself from the maw of a beast doesn't mean it'll let you go."

Last time he got like this you threw it back at him. This time it feels different. Sebastian isn't angry at the world – he's just angry at himself, and that only warms you with tides of pity and sorrow. In the next stride you're hoisting up the bar door and plonking yourself onto the stool at his side, aware of his scent, musky with the heat, and the way his eyes hook onto you, never once leaving yours.

"I don't do... comfort," you warn him. "Trying to beat addiction is shit, and I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm sorry that you're in this situation," you clarify. "Here's the thing though: you're going to fail. You're going to fail over and over. But what really matters is you don't give up when the going gets tough. You get up. Because the only one who can beat this thing is you."

He drinks again, slower now, contemplative, and he manages to stop a third of the way down.

"Not bad advice for someone who doesn't do comfort," he mumbles. "When I used to live up north, I got to know the barkeep at my local, too. She gave good advice. Must be in the profession."

"Must be all the listening to so many people whinge."

"You love it really." A smile peels out from his melancholy, which is gratifying to see. "Her name was Sirona. She was like a mother to me."

"Sirona?" You scoff. "You make a habit being on first-name basis with every barkeep, Sallow?"

"Nah, not all." He winks. "Just the pretty ones."

You roll your eyes and go to stand, get back to work, but Sebastian catches your hand. His fingers, though large and strong and ribbed with veins, are deceptively soft and gentle, and his thumb grazes over the skin, lighting up some darkness in your chest.

"Thank you."

It's simple, but it means the world.

When you wake one morning, the sunrise has long sheared away the darkness of your bedroom in the eaves.

That means you're late.

You curse yourself and throw off the blanket. It must be after seven. Damn it. You forgot to set your alarm clock last night, so overwhelmed with fatigue that you hit the sack immediately upon closing up the pub. Scrambling to make up for lost time, you throw on a day dress and apron and sprint downstairs.

Your mother stoops over the window sill overlooking the beer garden. The gnarled ridge of her spine protrudes out her back. What little hair she has is wispy and white, like a tuft of cloud, and her fingers crackle when they touch the glass, bony and desiccated from years of hard work.

"Mama—"

She doesn't turn around. "It's a pretty day, isn't it, dear?"

You frantically check she hasn't hurt herself – a scrape, bruise or God forbid, blood – but she seems unharmed, and you send a thank you upwards as you usher her towards the armchair. "It is, Mama."

"Where's Fluffy? Haven't heard him barking up a storm yet."

"Running around outside, Mama. Sit here. I'll get you breakfast."

Instead you race across the hall and almost crash into your papa, clenching the bannister for dear life. His withered face, sagged with age, makes no issues for his beaming smile, boasting his yellowed teeth.

"I dreamt of Margate today. We should go there, don't you think, dear? Last time we went you devoured three scoops of ice cream in ten seconds!"

Margate, the famous beach town over in west England. Your parents took you a few times when you were young, the only family day trips you could afford. The memories are fond and sentimental, though you haven't had three scoops of ice cream since you were about five.

"We'll see, Papa."

You slip a hand beneath his arm, trying not to flinch at how frail he is, and help him to the parlour. Your mama has moved from the chair again, back at the window, staring at the endless blushing sky. It's approaching the later months now, when the morning is a balancing act between sunlight and ink, and you have to squint to see the tiny mound at the back of the garden, where Fluffy has been buried for four years.

It doesn't matter that they forget, that they can't help themselves anymore. They're all you have left.

You feed them, you dress them, you wash them of their soiled clothes. You tuck them into their respective armchairs, then take a moment to clean yourself, checking periodically between sponging away last night's sweat to make sure they haven't fallen over and knocked into something. There's no time for grub now, so you head downstairs just as the front door bangs.

"Ada, hello."

Ada's low-cut dresses don't surprise you anymore; you don't have to imagine what she does after she's finished here for the day. She tears the cigarette from her lips and blows the smoke out, the stink of it stifling.

"Late today?"

"I slept in."

"Still counts as my time. And I want payment upfront."

It's getting more costly – two shillings, six pence – but you pay it, because the alternative is much worse. Ada bites each coin before pocketing them and silently making her way upstairs.

You snatch an apron from the side. It's time to work. You count the stock, clean the tables, accept deliveries and prepare food all before the other staff arrive – Bonny gives you a sweet smile.

"You aw'right, Miss?"

Her assaulter behind bars, she's been feeling much better about coming to work. It'll never be the same for her, but you take some comfort in knowing there's peace in closure.

"I'm fine. Can you rake the garden today?"

"'Course, but..."

"What?"

"Your hair's got a mind of it's own, Miss. You sure you're okay?"

You finger-comb it down. "Just get to work, please."

Your stomach growls when you open, but you push through for the late morning crowd. The in-house chef cooks breakfast, breads soaked in hot lard, smoked kipper on rye, beef gruels and broth, which only makes you long more for a moment to sit down. I woke up late, this is my punishment. Things only exacerbate when two – two ­– clumsy patrons drop their glasses, leaving you to clean up the shattered remains, and another woman gives you a bollocking for bungling an order.

Not even a surprise visit from Sebastian at eleven o'clock brightens your mood.

"You're early," you remark, when he sinks into his stool.

He raises an eyebrow. "And you're sharp. I thought I'd pop in. Bad day, huh?"

"I'm not an alcoholic."

"Hey, even you normal drinkers have Bad days."

Then today is a Bad day – a really fucking Bad day.

"I slept in. That's all."

He grins. "Guess it's my turn to comfort you, huh?"

"Don't need comfort."

"Like a fish doesn't need water?" When you shoot him a steely glare, he simply sticks out his tongue. "You're being crabby today. Ever thought about taking a break? Having a night out with friends?"

"No time."

"No time for friends?"

"No time to make them."

"Well, you've met Ominis. How about we share?" You wince; Sebastian laughs. "He's all right once you get to know him. You should meet Garreth too, he's a good sport. What about your parents?"

The bad mood colours with fear. "What about them?"

"You said they were retired. Do they live in the country?"

"You think I can afford to buy them property in the country?"

"Where do they live then?"

"Not here."

"Why not go visit them?"

"I see them every day."

It slips out. Fuck. A stupid mistake. His lips roll, but hopefully he can't see the way you've bent the truth.

"And you?" you ask quickly, busying your hands so you don't have to meet his gaze. "What about your parents?"

"Ah." He draws his thumb pensively across his cheek. "They're dead."

"Oh." Bugger.

His lips split into a grin. "The look on your face... relax, bar girl. It was a long time ago. Happens to everyone eventually."

You don't want to think about that.

"Tell me about them," he says, making himself more comfortable as panic runs riot in your bones. "Are they as crabby as you?"

"I am not crabby."

You are a little crabby.

"Nowt much to tell," you mumble, before he can retort. "Both of them worked here their whole lives, barely a break in between. Mama took some time off when they had me, but while I kipped she'd come down to wait tables."

His gaze flickers upwards. "You lived upstairs?"

Fuck. "Yeah. I mean, I do now, they don't."

"So you're here all the time? What do you do for fun?"

You slap your hands to the counter. Sebastian doesn't even flinch.

"I don't have time for a bloody interrogation, Sebastian. Do you want a drink or not?"

Instead the bastard leans a head in his hands, and bats his eyelids like a dewy-eyed debutante.

"You should swear more. I like it when you're crabby."

"You see that pot hanging up behind me? You're going to become very acquainted with it if you don't shut up."

He leans close until his breath whispers along your nose.

"I like you most when you're angry at me."

Before you can grab the pot, the stock room door groans opens.

"Dear!" cries your mama.

Every muscle in your body goes cold. You swing around, sure you misheard the voice, but it is her, smile wide and ignorant, shuffling towards you with the pace of a determined turtle.

You freeze. How did she get downstairs? And why? What the hell is Ada doing? And why isn't it the thing you're bloody paying her for?

"Mama," you step forwards to intercept her, "you shouldn't be here—"

"Oh, hello, young man," she says, regarding Sebastian. "My, you're very muscular, aren't you?"

You flush. "Mama—"

"Part of my job, ma'am," Sebastian responds smoothly. "I see where your daughter's beauty comes from."

You lose the ability to speak. My beauty? Your mother chortles. "What a charmer. What are you having?"

There's no beer in front of him, but still he says, "Stout."

"Ah." There's a twinkle in her eye. "That's my favourite of the beers. Did you know the name comes from its strength? Not one for the weak-willed."

"I didn't know that." His eyes slide to you. "Good to know I'm not weak-willed."

"I will never forget my first sip. Seventeen, managed to flirt with the barkeep for a pint to impress another man. Was sitting in that very stool. I knew he saw right through me but he gave me a pint anyway. Awful, didn't have the stomach for it back then, yet I drank the whole thing. Funny. I never saw the other man after that night, but the barkeep, well." She gives you a squeeze. "I think there was magic involved."

"I'll bet," Sebastian replies. "It's always good to believe in a little magic."

"Mama," you say tiredly. "Let's get you back upstairs."

"I miss Margate," she says as you take her arm. "We should go to Margate, shouldn't we, dear? The beach is lovely. Your father misses it so much, and you can have your ice cream."

"One day, Mama."

Sebastian gets to his feet. "Let me help you."

You can't say no. He ducks beneath the bar door and snakes his arm through your mother's. She looks at him strangely.

"Hello there. Where did you come from?"

It feels like your life is collapsing. This part of your image, carefully crafted to hide a terrible secret, has cracked upon the face – and what good is porcelain when it is no longer perfect? You put one foot after the other, mindful of your mama's pace, and Sebastian's, as you lead her into the stock room, and to the stairs leading back up to the house.

Ada is halfway down once you shut the door behind you. Her face is flushed. "Swear, I went to help your papa wash— I was only gone for two seconds—"

"Later," you snap. "Just do your bloody job now."

She heads back up the stairs, sheepish, as you and Sebastian follow up, and finally get her settled back into her armchair. You're frighteningly aware of how silent Sebastian is, how his eyes dart about, drinking in the details of your home, your space. Already you're thinking of a hundred excuses. She's just sick, this isn't normal, she didn't forget who you were in the space of a minute. It's useless now.

Sebastian will see through it all.

He doesn't say a word when you return back downstairs, after you lock the stockroom door. The day has turned from Bad to Catastrophic – the best you can do now is damage control.

Your pour him a stout and slide it to him.

"Please don't tell anyone."

He stares at it, confused. "What?"

"You can have free drinks, forever," you whisper. "Food too. Whatever you want—"

"Whoa, bar girl!" He laughs. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't need charity."

"Money then?"

"What makes you think I'll tell anyone?"

You flick your gaze between his eyes, but he's quite serious. "I know they're... they're..." mad, you can't say aloud, "but please, you can't tell anyone. I can't have them sent away to an asylum. They're all I have left."

"I'm not going to tell anyone," he says softly. "I promise."

It's not very reassuring, frankly. You paid Ada to take care of them, and she couldn't even do that. But Sebastian's never broken his word before, not with you, not with Bonny. You just wish he didn't know – wish you could erase the memory like it never existed at all.

"Are you going to take them?" he asks, breaking your train of thought.

"What?"

"To the beach?" Sebastian leans his head in his hands again. "Your mama wanted to go, said your father did too..."

You blurt a shrill laugh. "'Course not. The nearest beach is miles away and I ain't got the time nor money to get them there."

"I can take them."

That feeling you've been ignoring stirs again. You push it down.

"Yeah, all right, Sebastian, and I'll quit my job tomorrow to pursue a passion in ballet."

"Bet you'd look good in a tutu."

You flush despite yourself. "No offence, but you can barely walk in a straight line, and they can't leave the house!"

"I can be sober for a few hours. And if it's only one morning it'll be fine, right? It's not good to keep them cooped up there. Your mama seemed fine."

You shake your head. "No, no, she— and my papa— they aren't well." They're not right in the head anymore. "I appreciate the offer, but—"

"That's too bad." Sebastian shrugs. "I've decided to decline you."

"You— what?"

"I'm taking them to the beach." He makes it sound like he's offering to pick up some groceries at the market. "What day works best? Tomorrow? Meant to be nice weather. You can leave Bonny in charge for a bit."

"Are you nuts? How would you even get them there?"

"If I tell you," he grins, "I'll have to..."

"God, be serious, for once in your bloody—"

He takes your hand suddenly. This is only the second time now, but again you're totally arrested, focus pinpointed on the tenderness with which he squeezes you – with grip as firm as a promise unbroken.

"I can do it."

You swallow the hope down, but it persists like a lump. Is it a trick? Have you been lured by silver words and pretty smiles? Sebastian is a master of pretence and possesses not just a dark streak – but a demonic one. What if he hurts your parents? What if he turns them into the authorities? They're vulnerable people, and they're all you have left. Yet you can't bring yourself to say no anymore. You can't bring yourself to push him away, not when it seems like he would carry the world on his shoulders for a glimpse of your smile.

To make my parents happy, you correct yourself tersely. Parents, not me. He's doing it for them. That's why you're doing this too – for them.

"All right," you concede in a whisper. "But you can't just take them. I have to go, and I need to know logistics."

"I meet you here before dawn, I'll collect your parents, and you make you way over before us. I'll even let you ride my carriage."

"You have a carriage?"

"I can get one."

"You can... get one..."

"A man can't get a carriage now?"

"Not by tomorrow."

"I know the right people."

"In the police?"

He winks. "If I tell you..."

You roll your eyes. "Okay, so let's say I manage to believe you'll conjure a carriage from thin air as you escort my parents in God-knows-what contraption. How long will it take you to get there?"

"Don't worry about that. I'll be there before you."

The retort leaps onto your tongue, but when he gives you that look, the low-lidded eyes, the flicker of mischief, daring for you to challenge him, your words promptly back down.

"Trust me?" he asks.

How? The question burns, desperate for answers. Sebastian is an elaborate puzzle made of a thousand pieces, except most of them are missing and the few you have don't fit together.

"I'll try." You take a deep breath. "They're all I have left, and I swear to God, Sebastian, if you hurt them... I will hunt you down."

Sebastian slides the correct change across the counter, then downs his drink in one go.

"Oh, bar girl," he says with a laugh, "I'll be disappointed if you don't."

"We're going to the beach today."

If you were a lantern, the way their faces light up could fuel you for a hundred years.

"Margate?" asks your father, facing his wife. "You hear that, darling? The beach in Margate. I've been wanting to go there."

"Not Margate," you explain, and you hate having to temper their expectations, "but yes, the beach, Papa."

"We'll get you ice cream, dear," says your mama.

"I'd like that," you say, smiling.

You left Bonny in charge, giving her the keys and a list of hastily-scrawled instructions about what to do and when to do it. Bonny reassured she'd leave everything spick and span, and you're forced to believe her. You haven't taken a day trip out in – well, since your parents were healthy, and the anticipation excites you as it makes your stomach churn.

At precisely five-thirty, there's a knock at the pub's door. With the carriage and horses waiting on the road as promised, Sebastian leans against the wall with a cigarette jammed in his mouth. He jabs the orange stub into the wall when you bring out a sack of your belongings.

"You smoke now?"

"Good morning to you too. If you must know, it helps relieve the withdrawal." His gaze rakes you up and down, making you blush before it hooks on your footwear. "No, no. Go put some boots on."

"What's wrong with these? They're day shoes, easy to slip on and off for the sand."

"Trust me, you'll need boots."

By the time you've changed into a battered pair, Sebastian has already introduced himself to your papa.

"In the 70s, cor, I tell you, I was a looker," he says, and Sebastian, to his credit, appears genuinely interested. "Face like mine could win anyone over, but when I saw this darling sweet girl talking up that mug at the bar, I just knew she was the one. You ain't got a bad face either, lad. You looking for a partner? My daughter is quite beautiful."

You hope Sebastian will chalk all that to the mania, but he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"That she is, sir."

You snort. It's all a game to him, but it plucks your heartstrings nonetheless, and you clamber into the carriage without looking him in the eye.

Sebastian closes the door. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"Where's the driver?"

"Don't worry about that, the horses know where to go."

Now that is absurd. "How the hell—"

"Ah ah, remember? Trust?"

You sit back in the carriage. "I said I'd try."

"Then try harder." He slaps the carriage side, which prompts the horses into motion. "Get some rest! It's a fairly long journey!"

You don't. The whole way out of the city and down the winding, country roads, you're wide awake, taking in the sight of the buildings and bustle morphing into trees and villages, and fields that roll for endless miles. The horses canter most of the way, so the sea comes into view after only a few hours, the land flat and sparse, and when the carriage stops abruptly, about half a mile out from the shore, you open the door and find the earth damp and moist beneath you, veined with a thousand rivulets of gilded blue.

"Boots," you murmur, smiling.

They squelch when you jump down into the marsh. The air is tangy with salt and sediment, but the sea wind is welcome in the heat. For a moment you shut your eyes, and all that panic and worry and dread – it simply melts away.

As vowed, Sebastian and your parents are waiting on the shore when you cross the marshland towards them. All three of them are as pristine as when you left – another oddity that you cannot explain.

Sebastian sweeps his arm out. "Welcome to Egypt Bay."

It's a small beach, if it can even be called that, settled in a crook between the sea and the mouth of the Thames. The river folds in on itself out beyond, creating a shelf of foam that constantly undulates in perfectly even ripples. The beach itself is a dearth of life, the sand wet but undisturbed, save only for a flimsy parasol Sebastian has stuck into the ground, and your parents, already padding their way towards the ocean.

"The beach!" your father yells. "Wheeee!"

"We vanished in a fireplace!" your mother cries. "Reappeared in another house!"

She must be mad, but you're too elated to care.

"I can't believe you did it," you breathe, facing him. "You actually did it."

He scoffs, hooking his thumbs into his trouser pockets. "Was there ever any doubt?"

"At least ninety per cent."

"Only ninety? Should've gone for the full one hundred. Would've made a much more satisfying reveal."

He drags out a cooling box and opens the lid – it's full of ice cream. Strawberry, vanilla, chocolate, pistachio, a few more flavours you've never tried. The ice cushioning each tub is intact. How the hell did he transport ice cream without it melting?

"Flavour preference?"

You mumble out a meagre whatever you're having, because you're too overwhelmed to do anything else, so Sebastian takes the chocolate – perfectly frozen – and scoops it into two tubs. The flavour is rich and decadent, better than anything you've had, and brings back another wave of nostalgia for times long past.

"Are you going to tell me how?" you ask, once you're finished.

There's chocolate left on the corner of his mouth. He thumbs it away, then licks it clean.

"If I tell you..."

"You'll have to kill me, I know."

"It's more like, if I tell you, I'd have to... never mind." You shove down the curiosity when he nods his head towards your parents. "They look like they're enjoying themselves."

Your parents intertwine arms and kick up the wet sand with childlike joy. You've been seeing them in monochrome this whole time – now they're in full colour, like some spark has been lit in both of their hearts. Even if it's only for today, only for this rare, precious moment, you are grateful.

"It's all they've talked about the last few months," you mumble. "It's the only thing they've really wanted to do. I care about them, but bringing them out... I've been terrified to do it."

"Because of the forgetfulness?"

"Because if anyone sees them. They're mad and they can't take care of themselves anymore, and if they get sent away... I'll have no one. Selfish, I know, but..." Your breath wracks. "They're all I have left."

There's sand in his hair and lashes, sweat that courses down his jaw, down the column of his throat, past his shirt, a slit open to the air, teasing more of his muscle and tattoos.

"That's not true," he whispers. "You have me."

In the silence, you see him watching your parents in earnest satisfaction. He's a stranger, freckled, drunk, odd, and not above using trickery and deceit against his foes. He shouldn't have to do this, he's not under any obligation. Yet he has, for no other reason than he can, and that it will make your parents happy. Seeing the delight on their faces releases a burden you didn't know you were shouldering.

Tentatively, you reach for his hand, and he responds in kind, until your fingers are knotted together.

"Thank you."

It doesn't encompass all the feelings in your chest, that iridescent gratitude you can't put into words, and how fast your heart beats and your fingers itch to touch him more. How your lips hunger for his.

It's simple, yes, but for him, you hope, it means the world.

The sun catches his face in ethereal light.

"Good day," he says, squeezing your hand.

You squeeze back.

"Yes," you say softly. "Good day."

[read on AO3, read on Wattpad] [MASTERLIST][FIRST][PREV][NEXT]

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[Divider credits]

[devochive]

Corporeal.

Caine/Fem!Reader

caine wants to learn more about humans, so why not become one himself? surely, these new waves of emotions and new desires won't become an issue.

requested by: @kenenergy

tags: mutual pining, eventual smut, fluff, human!caine, lingerie, reader is down bad for caine but won't admit it.

Chapter one.

"I just don't know bubble! After letting them all down about the exit I feel... a little guilty?" Was that the correct wording? Humans were far more complex than he could imagine. But, oh, so interesting.. what could he do to learn from them better? He tapped the bottom of his jaw with a gloved finger in thought.

"Well, maybe you could—" Bubble began but Caine cut him off before he could get a word out, "Gadzooks you're right bubble! To understand them, I have to become like them! Of course! What a great adventure that'll be!" He exclaimed and extended his arms out in delight.

"I'll get a brand new.. body! All equip with artificial human emotions, looks, the works!"

Caine said , happily agreeing with himself. All it'd take was a snap of his fingers.

"Can I have body too, Caine..? I'd absolutely.. love to.. hug everyone.." Bubbles voice drifted off strangely at the end of that sentence and Caine stared... that certainly wasn't a good idea.

"Uh.. no!" He said just as cheerfully as if he were to agree.

SNAP!

the following day..

Knock, knock, knock!

The noise broke you out of your extremely light sleep. You got out of bed without issue, feeling groggy wasn't exactly a thing here. "Coming.. coming.." You sighed and pushed aside the fluffy comforter, rubbing your eyes and stretching out your body. It was still taking some getting used to.. you dragged yourself to the door and swung it open, Ragatha stood there, hands clasped in front of her. She gave a small wave, "Hey, y/n! Uh, Caine called everyone to the main hall, so I just came by to.. get you." Her sentence trailed off with a little chuckle as she pushed some of her red locks from her face.

"Oh, thanks Ragatha." At the mention of Caine you seemes unconsciously adjust your clothing and hair, what can you say? He's a charismatic man.. it was hard not to be a little attracted to him. Not like it would lead to anything, he certainly didn't seem to be interested in you humans, not anymore than playthings at least.

"Let's get going then, don't wanna keep everyone waiting." You flashed a kind smile at the doll like woman and you both walked together to where the others were already gathered, exchaning mundane conversation on the way.

"Well, well well glad you ladies could make it!"

"C.. Caine..!? What the [censor] !?" Your eyes were nearly popping out of your sockets and even ragatha seemed taken aback, mouth agape.

"We can't have that, y/n but I will give you a pass because I'm sure you are quite surprised by my apperance!" He said followed by a wacky sound.

"Yeah........" Zooble chimed in , "Welcome to the party."

Caine was.. human? His face was chiseled like an old timey talk show host. Dark brown hair was skicked back except a single curled strand hanging above his forehead ... he, of course, had on his iconic red suit and still held his baton, but he was just.. human now. And fuck was he handsome. Just what his goal?

"I'm sure you're all wondering why exactly I look—"

"Who cares," Jax said, arms crossed. Clearly annoyed, it almost seemed like Caine was mocking them in his opinion, "What about us? Does this mean we can get our human bodies back?"

Oh.. oh. You didn't even think about that, he's right. At least you'd feel a bit more normal here, surely there had to be a way. With a tinge of hope in your eyes you looked at Caine, waiting for his answer.

"Ah—" Caine raised a finger, but it soon fell. "Well.. no. This is simply coding, ones and zeros, Jax! Nothing more." He said, his grin a bit more charming when hes human, though now that you get a good look at him the 'coding' on him was too perfect. His skin had zero imperfections and his teeth were inhumanly white.

"So, our adventure today will be a little different! None of those devious little gloinks to steal your things away, no no! Just different trials for human emotions! Who will crack first!? Who will cry first !? Oh, the horrors! And I will be standing by to drink up everyones reactions!"

Everyone stood in silence, some annoyed some just downright confused. But, they didn't exactly have a choice but to follow through with the new adventure.

"Now go on my little superstars! Head to the dining area with the other NPCs!" He shoos you off but you purposely linger behind, waiting for the others to head off first.

"Yes, y/n, can I help you dear?!" He said , unknowingly in your personal space. But it quickly became apparent as his expression seemed to shift a little, usually it wouldn't bother him.. being this close to you but now, as a 'human' it felt a little strange. Causing him to clear his throat.

"O.. Oh nothing, I just.. wanted to say being a human.. kinda suits you Caine." You laughed a little and skipped off into the dining area leaving Caine with a flushed face. He touched his cheek, confused by the weird reaction he was having.. humans sure are interesting creatures.

Inside the dining area everyone was sat down with a the wooden mannequin NPC, they spoke to each person differently. Trying to provoke a reaction out of them, it must have been apart of Caine's way of getting you all to release different emotions he could learn from.

You took your seat in front of the wooden doll, [Y/N, welcome, you're late you should be ashamed of yourself.] The voice was robotic and out of habit you almost snapped back, but that's what Caine wanted probably. After all everyone was either close to strangling the faux mannequin or getting up to leave out of frustration. Caine made sure the trials pushed their buttons.

"God.. what is Caine thinking, this is so .. weird." Zooble commented, leaning back against their chair as their mannequin had been.. well out of commission thanks to them. "Hey.. where'd y/n go..?"

You found a way to sneak off, seeking out Caine again. You had more questions about this.. human transformation of his, not only that there had to be a way to get him to turn you all human again. It could be the first step to getting out of here.

You rounded the corner and shuffled back behind it, peeking past it to see Caine getting a haircut from bubble. "Anddd.. There!" With comically large scissors he snipped off a ungodly chunk of hair, without thinking Caine popped bubble and made all the chair he was sitting in disappear. His hair reappearing perfectly as if it hadn't been cut at all!

Your mouth dropped.

"Oh, y/n! Shouldn't you be at the trials? What slippery little snake you are, come now let's get you back!" He got close to you and you shuffled back, to avoid being instantly teleported back there. "W.. Wait! Caine.. I had a few questions."

"Questions? What about?" His eyes studided yours, "Oh, right, of course! This must be about my handsome new human face correct?" He said with a all to charming grin.

"Well, ... yes.. Don't you think you should have a human test the validity of your new... er.. body." You said attempting to close the distance between you, and he allowed it. You extended a hand and caressed his face, he looked at you with wide eyes.

"Did I.. perhaps get something wrong here?" He said a little confused, the close proximity between you two was causing him to flush uncontrollably. "Well, your face is a bit.. too perfect? Still so.. did you make yourself attractive on purpose?" You caught yourself tracing the features of his face and had to pull back.

"Well.. yes! Humans seem to respond well to, a more attractive face!"

It was getting a little awkward for the both of you, Caine cleared his throat. "Note taken! Will ..there be anything else y/n? If not then chop chop, your trials are almost finished!" He didn't let you answer, too confused and taken aback by these feelings coursing through his veins. He snapped his fingers and you were back in the chair with the damn mannequin.

Great.

Meanwhile Caine was still hovering in place, touching the same place you had caressed him a moment ago. "Humans sure are.. interesting, what a strange feeling!" He said and lifted his hat where bubble emerged from. "Day one, I will call a success bubble! One step closer to understanding these bundle of emotions we call humans!"

Later that night, Caine was sure everyone else was in their rooms before he too attempted to "sleep" it was apart of the learning process he thought. He desperately tried to push back the unraveling emotions in his body. Your fingertips, lips and even voice was encompassing his every waking thought.

Perhaps it would be smart to stay close to you throughout this experience. You are making his body and mind react in such strange ways and you've hardly done anything.

Surely, this won't have any repercussions later.

(next chapter.)

[covenofwives]

Little Red and White Spots

George takes time alone to reflect until Dream comes along. They have a hard talk until Dream wants to find out if George's little secret is still as ticklish as he remembers.

WARNING: This fic very obviously implies abuse from parental figures. Nothing bad is outright stated or described, but the implication is there. Keep safe, avoid if you need to.

It all kicks off now

---

George sat at his bedroom door and never felt more like a child. Uncomfortable memories flooded in of sitting in front of his childhood bedroom, trying and failing to keep out his parents. Adoptive parents. They would eventually barge in, as his child strength was no match against two adults, and he’d be dragged out to put on a show of just how normal he was to all the neighbours.

He never invested in a lock because he was too young and his parents wouldn’t allow it. Then when he was old enough he left with Sapnap and Dream as soon as he could. He never had a need for a lock until now. Now he was overwhelmed with that same feeling of craving safety and keeping the world out.

When he was anxious, his skin would itch. It was only as he was in the safety of his room George slowly removed the wraps from his arms, exposing the red patches of skin with white spots sprinkled on them.

George looked at the markings, a well of emotions bubbling up and confusing him. Shame and frustration playing tug of war. Whenever he caught a glimpse of red he wanted to pull on the wraps again, but his skin felt like it was burning.

A horrible silence was over the cottage; one George didn’t know if he could trust. He had no idea if Dream had come back in from his talk with XD. Or if they both came back. Or if their weird friend came back and all three of them were just having a talk without him.

The answer came from a light knock on the door. It wasn’t loud by any means but it was sudden and caused George to jump. His face flushed and heart raced as Dream spoke.

“George. XD’s gone.”

A few long seconds passed before George realised he should respond. “O-Okay…”

He waited for the sound of Dream stepping away but it never came. Instead his voice came again. “You don’t need to sit by the door… I won’t come in if you don’t want me to.”

George could feel his face turn red from being caught. Of course, Dream would know him so well. Dream was the first one George had ever told of his times against the door. Praying for just a night of uninterrupted sleep and deathly afraid whenever he heard the slightest noise in the house.

“I know!” George snapped back. It wasn’t anger he was feeling but it was easier to convey that then work through the mess of emotions in his heart.

“I’ll go if you want…” Dream’s voice was small. Hurt but trying to hide it. It tore at George’s heart.

“No!” He called back through the door. “You don’t need to leave.”

“Well I’ll just stay out here. I’ll be in the living room. We don’t have to talk.”

George waited for the sound of Dream walking away, before he realised he didn’t want that. “M-Maybe I want to talk…”

There was a moment of silence before Dream spoke again. “Do you?”

“I don’t know…” George’s voice verged on a growl. Frustrated with himself that he couldn’t figure out his own feelings. He felt just as weak and helpless as he did when he was a child.

But this was different. Because Dream would listen to him.

“I think I do.” George finally decided.

He heard the shuffling of Dream sitting down by the other side of the door and then Dream said. “Alright. We can talk. What do you want to talk about?”

A nagging horrid part of George told him to be quiet and to send Dream away, but the question had been on his mind and refused to shift.

“Why did that God look like me?”

He didn’t receive an answer, which was to be expected. It would be too much to expect Dream to know but the sliver of doubt that told him to be quiet also filled his head with horrible thoughts that Dream was somehow in on it.

Eventually Dream sighed. “I… I don’t know, George.”

“That was the God you told me about. The God you mentioned XD had taken you to. Why didn’t you tell me he looked like me?”

“Cause I wasn’t sure he did.”

That was a lie. The Dream Team were as close as three souls could be without sharing the same body. George could draw each of their faces perfectly in his sleep and Dream could do the same. There was no doubt Dream knew.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I just…” Dream sighed to steady his breathing. “It wasn’t a lie. I knew you two looked similar but I couldn’t be sure you looked the same.”

“You didn’t think to mention that?”

“At the time I was just too happy I was back home. Back to you. By the time I remembered their face, XD not long showed up and wanted to chat and I was worrying over that.”

In a calmer state George would have understood. Dream had been stressing every day leading up to today. He was hardly sleeping and when he was it wasn’t for long. George wanted to understand but his mind refused to see anything clearly.

“Or you didn’t want me to know. Cause you wanted to see how I’d react when we met.” George coldly accused.

“I had no idea they’d be here! HD showing up was a surprise!”

HD. The name rang dead in George’s head.

“George?”

George snapped out of his thoughts, realising he’d been quiet for too long. “I’m still here…”

“This would be easier to talk if we could see each other.”

“Maybe…”

There was silence again.

“Can I come in?” Dream asked softly.

George shrugged to himself. “I guess…”

Rather than get up, George shuffled himself to the wall beside the door instead and drew his knees up to his chest while Dream walked in. He pushed the door open slowly, like he still expected some resistance. Then when he realised George had moved, he came in, slowly closed the door and settled himself in beside George by the wall.

Despite what Dream thought, it seemed more awkward to talk now. George kept his eyes down, focused on the carpet under him while Dream asked. “Did you recognise him?”

The question shifted uncomfortably in George’s head, the same way the name did. “No… Not really.”

“What do you mean?” Dream asked softly.

“He looks like me. Of course I would think I’d seen him before.”

“Are you sure that’s all?”

George’s shoulders winced. “I want to talk about something else.”

Silence fell between the two again. George wished he would have listened to that nagging in him, telling him to keep quiet and not ask questions. Things were better when he didn’t know HD existed.

“Can I ask a question?” Dream broke the silence. George gave him a wary look and he explained himself. “It’s not about what happened. I promise.”

George still gave him a wary look but he nodded and allowed it.

“Why are the wraps off your arms? Do they hurt?”

Dream had been one of the few in George’s life to know of his marks. He’d been one of the few who would be allowed to ask that question. But even still George had to fight back the bite in his voice and gave a quick shrug.

“I dunno…” He lied.

“You just… you always try and hide them. I just wondered if it was something that happened to make you…”

“You want to know if it’s from meeting HD.”

Dream was quickly defensive. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. It was obvious!”

The marks over George’s arms was never a topic he allowed to be discussed for long. And that’s because his adoptive parents never allowed it. It was drilled into him to be unthinkable to mention.

“No-one will want to hang out with you. They’ll think you’ve got a disease.”

“Of course your arms are weird. They’re not normal to humans.”

The cruel words of his adoptive parents still rang in his head whenever he looked at his arms. George couldn’t remember much of his time before he was adopted. His earliest memory was being tired, kept awake for hours so the mushroom blush on his cheeks would be faded enough and his arms being wrapped up out of sight. When he asked about his marks they said he was a mooshroom hybrid.

But then why did he have to hide his marks? Hybrids were common, even in the village they lived in, so why did he need to cover up?

Their shame stuck deep in George, even when they were gone. But Dream had never looked at George with shame. When George felt brave enough to show his markings to Dream and Sapnap neither showed any sign of disgust. They were wowed and understandably curious. It made him feel normal.

“I always liked your arms…” Dream mumbled from the silence.  George gave a glance over to see Dream look unusually meek. “They’re unique.”

They’re gross. George’s natural reaction was to say that, but he swallowed it back down. That was his parents words. Not his. He didn’t really know how he felt about his arms, he was always just told. They were an inconvenience to him, but only because he let them be.

“Are they still ticklish?”

A tingle ran through George’s arms, and not the usual from his self doubt. He looked over to Dream, eyes widened at the smirk the blonde was giving him.

“No!” George’s voice came out in a yip, which brought a blush up to his cheeks. He tried to subtly shift away but Dream moved suddenly and it sent George into a panic. He tried to quickly get up and run but Dream grabbed his thigh and squeezed.

George fell with a half laugh, half yell. He was on his side, looking up to Dream as his friend leaned over him. “S-Stop!”

“If you just answer me, I will.” Dream shrugged as he slowly made his way forward.

“I did! Thehey’re nohot!”

“You’re lyiiiiiing~”

George whined, growing louder and louder the more Dream loomed over him. “Gehet off!”

It was not a good idea to push Dream away with the limbs he was currently targeting but George didn’t really think of that at the time. He pushed his arm up against Dream’s chest, trying to shove the blonde away from him. He did not expect it to really work but Dream was pushed back further than he should have been, then Dream ducked his head down and blew a raspberry right over and red and white patch over the arm pushing him.

George shrieked and jumped. He pulled his arm away and tried to crawl out from under Dream, but Dream just grabbed his sides, tickling and pulling him back. “Oh no no no~” He teased.

“Stop! AA-aha! Stohop! Not the ri-IHIhihiHibs!”

Dream’s fingers scribbled up and down George’s ribs. George writhed and struggled, trying to twist himself away but it left his arms vulnerable. His arms were trying to protect his ribs, but what was protecting his arms?

When George was laughing and frenzied enough, Dream grabbed one of his arms and pinned it down. He leaned down, blowing another raspberry over the mushroom patches, but also nibbled and rubbed his beard up and down the sensitive skin. His other hand tickled in George’s armpit.

George kicked his legs, throwing his head back in a deep laugh. His free arm hit into Dream’s shoulder and pushed at his head, but the blonde menace was not moving. His fangs scrapped over George’s skin. It tickled so madly, the shockwave through his skin almost felt fuzzy. Like it was tickling him from the inside. A particularly overly ticklish raspberry right near his elbow made George twist his body, sending a knee into Dream’s side and pushing.

Dream was caught off guard and tried to hold strong, but George got just the right angle to really dig in at his ribs and it went from annoying to hurting real quick. He let himself be kicked back and let go of the arm, but when George tried to scramble away again he grabbed his ankle and pulled him back.

“Don’t! Dohon’t!” George giggled. He hugged his arms in close to his chest, but it was impossible to protect them both.

“I’m not even doing anything!” Dream laughed. He let go of George’s ankle, but kept his hand on George’s thigh.

“You’re-You’re going to!” George squeaked. He thought of escape, but knew if he didn’t  have a right plan he was as good as caught. “Leave my arms a-ahalone!”

“Do you think your arms are sensitive because of the red and white patches? Or because you keep them wrapped up all the time?” Dream grinned. The sight of those canine fangs made George squeal again, and turned his arms away.

“They’re not sensitive!”

“No? You’re just hiding them because you want to?”

George huffed and folded his arms under himself. It arched his back awkwardly but his arms were safe from any attack.

“Well... That’s no help to you.” Dream tilted his head. He grinned again, his hands forming into claw shapes and he tickled George’s outstretched ribs. “You’re just presenting your ribs to me.”

“S-Stohop! STOP!” George wiggled side to side but it didn’t help him. He still refused to uncover his arms, but his laughs hiccuped with desperation. “Thahat tihickles!”

“Well duh! I’m tickling you.” Dream snorted. His skittering fingers moved down and curled around, getting the back of George’s ribs. “Coochie coochie coo~”

“St-ohop! AH!” George gasped, arched his back and wiggling as the tickling continued. “Ple-ehase! He...ehehaha! Not-Not thehehere!”

“Yes there. And I’m going to keep tickling you there until you show your arms again.”

“Thehen you’ll t-tickle my ahaharms!”

“Maybe.” Dream shrugged. “But you’ll never know. And I’ll just keep tickling these ribs until you show them.”

“The... Th-Thehere weheird!”

Dream’s hands slowed, and his voice came out softer. “No they’re not...”

The tickling didn’t stop, but Dream’s hand slowed enough where George wasn’t giggling. A tense mood descended in the room.

“My...” George’s voice was small. “My parents said...”

“I don’t care what your parents said!” Dream’s voice was rough but never snapped. At least not at George. He still realised his tone was harsh, and he pulled his hands back. “S-Sorry...”

“No. It’s fine.”

It was fine, though some ugly emotion in George’s heart told him it shouldn’t be. He probably should have felt offence for the people who raised him, but he couldn’t. When George had been told the news his parents had passed away, his response was nothing more than a “huh”. He returned home and buried them – he owed them that much respect at least – but even as the burden of them was gone, their words stuck with him like shrapnel lodged into his heart.

Dream climbed off George and George slowly pushed himself to sit up. The red and white patches came into view again and he couldn’t help the wince his body gave.

“I didn’t realise you still hated them so much.” Dream’s voice was soft like an apology.

“I don’t hate them I just... I don’t know.” George shrugged. “It’s just hard to not hear their words or remember their sneers to them.”

“Me and Sapnap always loved them.” Dream offered hopefully. A small smile grew on his lips, that George couldn’t help but smile at as well.

“That doesn’t count.” He snorted. “Sap’s a demon. You got...those.” He pointed to Dream’s ears.

“Uh! Excuse you! Everyone loves these ears.” Dream made a show of wiggling the large ears. George laughed then. “And well... Yeah we’ve had people look at us strangely but we’re no stranger than most people in this world. Your marks aren’t out of the ordinary from any mooshroom hybrid. It’s just your parents weird...whatever it was.”

Whatever issue they had, it was buried with them.

“Do you want to wrap them up again?” Dream softly offered, pulling George from his thoughts. “I’ll help if you do.”

George managed to look down, staring at the marks without cringing for a few seconds more. “I... I don’t know... No.” He looked away and and folded his arms around himself. “I just feel weird today.”

“I really didn’t know HD would be here. But I am sorry...”

The offer was genuine and touched George’s heart. It cleared his cloudy thoughts for a moment. Enough to work through the jagged thoughts of the God.

“I honestly don’t know how to describe it. My head is telling me I don’t remember HD at all. But there’s something that does. Just a feeling. When I look at them it’s like I should know them. But my mind says I don’t. But he looks like me! Like how you and XD look so I think... I have to...”

Dream listened silently, not daring to interrupt his friend speaking until George’s voice started to break. He shuffled himself over and leaned his shoulder to George’s. “Listen. You don’t need to think on it right now. HD’s left, XD’s going to check on him. When things are settled we can work it out from there.”

It was a fair offer, but George couldn’t see it as a good thing. Because even if something in his heart did remember HD, something from long ago, it didn’t stop him now from asking the uncomfortable question.

If we are connected somehow...then why did you leave me?

Even if the thought was uncomfortable, George did feel better talking it out. Enough to come out of his room and face the rest of the day. Of course that would just be cleaning the kitchen from the mess of their morning baking.

“Damn you make such a mess when you’re baking.” Dream said, pulling out wooden spoons and various other utensils covered in dough.

“We were both baking, idiot!” George snapped back with a smile. “Start with the stuff in the sink. I’ll get wipes for the counter.”

George left the kitchen to the sound of clutter and water running in the sink, but there was another sound that caught George’s ear. Footsteps. Footsteps crunching over the grass outside. George was too realistic to think it would be XD coming back. He carefully sneaked over to just get a peek out the window, and his fear was realised.

“Bad is coming!” George shouted back.

Dream came to the doorway of the kitchen, a wooden spoon still in his hand. “Why is he here?! Does he ever come visit?!”

“No! It’s not...”

It was not Bad. George realised it the closer the demon got. He did not have his usual black robes on, or his guard outfit for the prison. He was in red robes, and followed by people wearing the same.

Fear in it’s purest form ran through George’s veins and he turned back to Dream. “Dig the blocks out from the kitchen! Get out and run to the woods!”

“What?!”

George bolted to the door to lock it, but before his hand could touch it, it swung open. Bad waltzed in, quickly followed by his glass eyed followers. Two immediately jumped onto George and wrestled with his flailing limbs until he was on the ground.

“BAD! Stop!” George screamed, but it wasn’t Bad. Bad’s white eyes were now red and distant. He had an unnatural smile stretched on his face. And a red vine weaving through his hair.

“Don’t fight George. We won’t hurt you.” Bad’s voice spoke, far too calm for the smile on his face. “We just need you to help us find Dream.”

George’s hopes that Dream had made it out were dashed as he heard a crash from the kitchen. Some of the followers had spread out and searched the house. One lay limp on the floor, blood slowly oozing from his head as Dream held a bloodied pan. He swung at the next follower who came near him, but he couldn’t fight them all off as they swarmed him. He growled and grunted like a wild animal, but Dream was wrestled to the ground.

“NO! You should have run, you idiot!”

“He’s here! I knew he would be! This makes it so much easier.”

Bad glided to the still struggling Dream. The follower bleeding from the head slowly rose up. His steps were wobbly but his face was blank. George recognised him. He ran a stall selling fish at the market. George recognised all of them. They were all citizens of Kinoko Kingdom. They were his neighbours, and now each of them had some red vine crawling up their necks.

“Your struggling will only lead to pain. We best take him sedated.” Bad’s voice faked sympathy. He brought a potion from his robes and despite how hard he tried, Dream’s mouth was forced open and just a few drops of it knocked him out.

George kicked and struggled just as much as Dream had, but the followers on him were unmoving. He got close enough to bite at one of their hands but all that did was fill his mouth with blood and the follower didn’t even react.

“It will all make sense soon, George.” Bad stepped closer, the potion ready in his hands.

“W-Wait! I... I won’t fight. I’ll come easy...”

Bad smiled sadly. “I know that’s a lie George. I’m sorry to do this, but when you wake up everything will be better.”

George lost the fight as Dream had and his mouth was forced open. The potion spilled just a few drops in his mouth. It mixed with the blood, tasted awful but it’s effect was instant. The world went dizzy and George slipped from consciousness as he heard Bad barking orders.

“Clean every room. Leave no trace anything happen.”

[lykaios2]

hear me out reader x donnie where reader can and will pick donatello up bridal style for the fun of it

thank you for the request :]

you guys are actually gonna make Donnie my favorite my turtle with the amount of asks about him 😭😭 please give me asks about Mikey (my real fav)

anyway I did both headcanons and a short little fic because I felt like it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-When you two first got together, this was not a habit at all

-Of course, neither of you even knew about this

-Being shorter than Donnie, it was a certainty for both of you that picking him up was out of the question

-That was, until one day

-Being the clumsy person he is, Donnie tripped backwards over something over the floor

-Thank Galileo that you had been behind him to catch him

-...

-Wait...you caught him?

-Oh boy. It was on now.

-Every moment he wasn't paying attention, you would sneak up behind him

-He would freak out as you scooped him up into your arms

-Anytime, anywhere. It was always free game

-Sometimes you did it to annoy him, like if he was talking his brothers

-Sometimes, you did out of pure affection, picking him up and giving him kisses and nuzzles

-And of course, quite often you had to pick him up out of his chair while he was working late into the night

-Then dragging him into his bed, and holding him there until he finally agreed to sleep

"y/n! I demand you set me down at once!"

You giggled as he resisted yet again. He writhed and wriggled in an attempt to release himself from your hold, but you didn't budge. He had tried this before, but it never worked. As you walked your way over to the bed in his lab, his body went limp as he gave up. You set him down carefully on the bed, and you laid down next to him. You wrapped your arms around him to ensure he didn't escape, and waited for him to finally submit to your hold.

"y/n, I insist. Please let me get back to work, this of utmost importance."

"Aw...you won't even lay down with me for a few minutes?"

You looked up at him with the signature puppy dog eyes that you used every time. Donnie looked away, trying so hard not to look at your face. But he gave in yet again.

"Reluctant sigh...I suppose I can spare a few minutes."

You smiled at him and pulled him closer. He softly smiled back, and pulled out his phone to pass the time. Much to your satisfaction, he had forgotten about his promise for "just a few minutes", and kept scrolling through his phone. Eventually, he yawned and set his phone down, letting his head rest on yours. He closed his eyes and gave in to the sweet temptation of slumber that tugged at his tired body, being comforted by your warmth and touch.