#so i felt kinda uncomfortable for the whole day

[ilyrafe]

𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒚𝒆𝒕 ✧ 𝒅. 𝒔.

pairing: drew starkey x f!reader

warnings: miscarriage but its so fluffy yall :((

word count: 1.2k

a/n: this is so shitty y’all i’m sorry djfjdk

pls he looks so cute here

when you said you wanted him to enjoy the moment with his family, he thought it was strange, but he didn’t argue. you’ve always understood how close he is to his family, and this moment in his career is important, you want him to celebrate with his parents, siblings, and closest friends.

you’ve only been together for a short time, and you’re not close enough to his family to be at family gatherings, you don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.

“we can celebrate later, just you and me.” you said, sealing your promise with a kiss, before you left his apartment, three days ago.

drew found it strange, but he thought you were just giving him space, which he appreciated. after a lot of family celebration, he went to your place, ready to spend at least a whole weekend, which you loved. there’s so much to talk about.

when you think about it, you didn’t think this thing with drew would go as far as it has been, because his schedule is chaotic and so is yours. when you first met, he was about to go to morocco to shoot outer banks, but he kept texting, calling.

“i know this is kinda all over the place right now, but i wanna see where this is going. do you?”

“i do.”

and that was it. you knew then and there, with only three weeks of dating (online dating for the most part), that you were in love. he’s so sweet, and so silly, too. somehow, you trust him. after being let down so many times, he’s made you feel safe from day one.

you’re not scared to tell him.

you’re on your bed, just waiting for him to get out of the shower. you’re barely paying attention to the tv, you’re just mindlessly scrolling through reels on your instagram, just waiting.

he comes out, shirtless, with damp hair and wearing the sluttiest thing a man can wear - black boxers that fit him just right. he’s such a beautiful man.

“d’you wanna take a picture?” he jokes when he catches you staring.

“you do it on purpose, don’t you?”

“of course i do.”

he gets under the covers and immediately latches onto you, resting his head on your chest. all he really wants is to feel you near him. it turns out, he wanted you with his family. he wanted you there, he wanted to properly introduce you to his loved ones, but maybe you’re not ready and he’ll give you all the time you need.

“i’ve missed you so much,” he says, his voice muffled by your skin.

you smell like french vanilla, and he loves that scent on you. he delights himself in your touch, when your nails lightly scratch his scalp and the nape of his neck.

“i’ve missed you, too. very much.”

he smiles against your skin and takes a long, deep breath, finally allowing his body to relax.

“um… so, i was kind of wanting to talk to you.” you say, trying to sound calm. well, you are calm, but you are also just a tad nervous.

he sits up, no longer relaxed.

“what is it?”

you sigh, look down and extend your hands, as a silent request for his. drew understands and places his hands on yours. your face is serene, but he can tell something is wrong.

“babe, tell me. i knew something was wrong, you were too distant these last couple of weeks.”

you chuckle - you can’t hide anything from this man.

“i’m gonna preface it by saying that i am okay, i am fine, but something did happen, and i’ve debated whether or not i should tell you, and i thought that you deserve to know.”

“you’re scaring me.”

“no, please, it’s… it’s okay. just let me say it all first and then you can speak, okay?” drew doesn’t respond, but you take his silence as a nod. “so, a few weeks ago, i was taking a shower and felt a weird abdominal pain, and then there was blood. i wasn’t on my period, so i got a bit scared and went to the hospital. i had a few tests done and found out… um…” you trail off, because this is surprisingly hard to talk about. he lightly squeezes your hands, encouraging you to keep going. “i had a miscarriage.”

oh.

wait.

what?

“a miscarriage?”

“i didn’t know. the doctor explained that it was common for women to have a miscarriage before even knowing they were pregnant.”

drew is quiet, absorbing the whole information. you were pregnant, and didn’t even know it. you had a miscarriage and he wasn’t there for you.

“why didn’t you tell me? i would’ve taken the first flight back to be here with you.”

“i know you would, that’s why i didn’t.” you explain, kissing the back of his hand right after. “also, i needed to figure it out by myself first. i was shocked to learn through a miscarriage that i was pregnant. it was a lot to process.”

“i can’t even imagine. but… how are you now?”

“i’m okay, i promise. i have one last appointment next week.”

“i’ll go with you.”

“okay. that’d be great, actually.”

he sighs, a bit relieved. at least you’re okay.

“i thought you should know because, well, i was pregnant. and if nothing had happened, i would still be pregnant, and i know it’s early, we haven’t talked about these things and i’m not pressuring you to do or say anything, but i still wanted you to know. felt really wrong to keep this from you.”

“no, you did the right thing.” he says, kissing the back of your hand. “i’m just sorry you went through all of this alone.”

“it’s okay, though. i wanted you to be the first person to know. and maybe the only one. i don’t think we should tell anyone else about this. like, it’d be just… pointless.”

“right. but, uh, if you do want to talk about kids, we can.”

“oh?”

“i mean… i’ve thought about it.” he admits. “i’m the eldest of the family, my mom has already started asking me for grandbabies, she says liliana needs a cousin.” you giggle. “but at the same time, the life i live today wouldn’t be possible with a kid, if i’m honest. i barely have time to sleep, let alone raise a child, and if i’m meant to have kids, i want to be there.”

“when i would think about children, i thought about pregnancy and how i needed to avoid it like the plague during my teenage years,” you laugh. “even when some of my friends got pregnant, i never really saw myself in their position, you know? i guess it wasn’t a priority for me, and still isn’t, but… i’m not ruling it out.”

“i’m not either.”

“so… there’s that.” you shrug, relieved that it all went well. “thank you for listening, i was a bit nervous.”

he nods, completely enchanted by you. he wishes he could navigate difficult topics the way you do. so natural, so easy. you seem to have your shit together and he’s so jealous of that.

“you can always tell me anything.”

“i know.”

“if something like this happens again, tell me. i don’t want you to go through anything bad alone ever again, okay?”

you nod, letting him hug you. oh, you love him.

“we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it and other stuff, too.”

i love feedback! let me know what you think!

[heatsu]

first cosplay ever is behind me woooo

[hammill-goes-fogwalking]

sympathy for the outcasts <3

[running-in-the-dark]

went somewhere with my husband and his dad today (to pick up my in-laws' "new" camper van). the guys that were selling it had a baby with them and it was so freaking adorable. so I kept making silly faces and hiding for a few seconds and that kind of stuff to make the baby laugh (it was fun!). anyway, after a while one of the guys asked when my husband and I are having kids and I just went like oh never. we have two cats, that's enough, and most babies aren't as cute as that one anyway so nope not interested in that.

[piggycyberwarrior]

Summary: After Task Force 141 got a hint that you gave important information to their enemy- the boys do not hesitate to chain you up and give you a taste of hell. You on the other hand are innocent but they do not believe you

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Platonic Task Force 141! x Fem!Reader (Simon Ghost Riley x Reader) a/n: pretty proud of that ngl.. enjoy guys love you!

Warnings: uhm this whole fic is basically a warning. Torture; Blood; Mental Health; Angst angst angst not proof read

genre: ANGST

+ 1,6k words

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

You thought you were going insane.

Maybe you already were, but it was no suprise- seeing the circumstances you were in. Arms stretched uncomfortably backwards and up- chains rubbing your wrists painfully raw. The stress position Soap put you in wasn't easy peasy lemonsqueezy.

Tears brimming in your eyes at the thought. You felt fucking betrayed. You were fucking betrayed, for gods sake! by your own team- the people you cried with- the people that you loved more than yourself- the people you called your family. That one man you took a bullet for.

Fuck all that bullshit.

Those were the same people that didn't believe you when things got rocky. When some pricks pointed their fingers at you- they immediately treated you as an enemy. The same people that chained you up. The same man that made you fucking blind on one eye

Everything was a lie, apparently.

The cell you were in was shady- you didn't expect something different- i mean you just served the military for many years and did everything for your country- of course you didn't deserve something more decent.

In the end you didn't care. Just waited.

When Gaz interrogated you- you kept your mouth shut. What should you do? Lie? Fuck no, you had so much self respect left, even in this dehumanizing situation.

of course your facade broke often times- you were only human after all. And it hurt- you were in this situation before- tortured by your enemies knowing that you would probably outlive them anyway as your team would rip them apart in a few days.

But now- being here- seeing how your 'friends'- your family- spat at you with nothing more than hate made you feel even more miserable- knowing, that no one will safe you this time.

You cried- having panick attacks deep into countless nights-being triggered by any small sound that wasn't coming from you or that rat in the corner of the room. Yelling at them- telling them that you didn't do shit. They didn't believe you.

Spiraling deep in your thoughts- shoulders sore and numb hands from the stress position- still tasting a faint trace of your own blood-

the sensory of the dried up blood on your cheek was uncomfortable at the beginning- cracking everytime you opened your mouth- but it quickly got kicked to the bottom of your worries as Price's wodden bat flew into your face yesterday- tooth flying onto the ground as you spat the crimson liquid at his feet- earning another strike from your Captain.

Your Saliva turning pink with the blood, sticking to your chin- slowly dripping down- having no free hand to wipe it off.

.

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You were here for about 1 and a half weeks now- how'd you know that? because you could hear the guards mutter something behind that steal door.

You shivered, suffering from hypothermia, a consequence of being almost naked in this shithole. Simon himself stripped you down- ignoring your pleas and protests.

Simon.

The man you did everything for, took a bullet for, cared for and slept with. He was the love of your life- or so you thought.

You were never scared of Simon. Since the first day you met him- you were kinda drawn to that giant of a man. Always spawning in his near with hearts in your eyes- Soap always made fun of you- but he found it cute neverthless, he could see that Simon didn't hate you.

You stitched him up- knew his fears (being a therapists daughter was quite a help for having deep convos), you knew of his past- even if it took you years to finally break his many iron walls down

You saw his face- kissed his scars and showered him with your time and love- giving him your all- even your body.

You weren't in a relationship- but everybody knew that Simon 'Ghost' Riley liked you. Even if you didn't tell anybody from the Force.

In the end it seemed not be enough, as the same man nearly strangled you to death down here. At first you were desperate, scared- but you stopped pleading a long time ago.

.

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heavy footsteps shook you out of your trance- spiraling thoughts stopping for a mere second as you looked into his stone cold eyes.

Balaklava on his scarred face- making you inhale sharply- heart throbbing at his sight. The black paint around his eyes made them pierce through the dark even more.

The same paint you applied more than once onto his unique face. he looked beautiful in your eyes. Even after everything that happened.

You're in here since a few nights.- Clothes starting to hang loosely around your body- having not eaten in days.

"Simon-" you croaked out- voice not cooperating as it should- making you tear up. When did everything turned out to be like that? This nightmare? You flinched a bit- chains clinking softly at your slight movement when he came towards you- still not speaking.

He stared. Stared at your weak frame. The dark hole you were chained into- being in a constant state of fear- Anxiety pulling and clawing at your nerves.

You gritted your teeth- looking to the side with a defeated huff. Tears prickling in your eyes once more- threatening to fall as he watched you like you were a kicked stray dog. Maybe you were in their eyes.

"I-" you croaked out once more "I didn't do it, Simon, i swear" you whispered into the dimmly lit room- Still not looking at him. "I swear to god Simon, I didn't.." you weeped in silence as he just looked "Fuck why should I betray you!!" you screamed in frustration at his figure- tears falling as he only left- leaving you in complete darkness- letting you cry to yourself till you eventually passed out.

.

Not even two day passed before he bursted through the iron door again- the loud sound ripping you out of your unconsciousness before he angrily grabbed you by your collar- hate flickering in those eyes that once held nothing but adoration for you.

"You fuckin' liar" he seethed through gritted teeth- behind that mask. Pushing you into the wall behind you- your head knocking against the brick wall with such a force that made you wince.

You could feel his anger. And you felt the danger that radiated from the man you gave your heart to.

His hands coming up to press against your jugular with a firm grip- picking you up a few inches into the air- chains clinking again. "Y'think you hav' it in you to lie into my fuckin' face" he growled while pressing down harder- you could feel yourself getting more lightheaded- gasping for air- choking for oxygen.

"Plea' Simon" you begged inbetween small gasps- scared what he will do to you. Hands tied together, wiggling in his painful hold like a suffocating fish- legs kicking to get him away from you- it worked- you gasped, trying to get in as much air as you could while your built up saliva ran down your chin-

he let you go for a second before his fist collided with your face. Hard- knocking the air out of your lungs once more "Jus' tell us the truth" he huffed, before hitting again- at first it hurt and then it burned. Your nose cracked under his fists-

Making you see stars and breath heavily before he took the knife out you gifted him for his birthday. Both your names engraved in it-

"'t will be easier for you" he said before popping the knife out of its sheath. "No, Simon" you cried out- whilst seeing the blade. "You don't have to do this" you gasped as he came dangerously close.

"No,no,no!!" you protested as he teared down your clothing, leaving you in a bra and your underwear. Feeling helpless as he teared down your clothes- ignoring your protest. The coldness of the room let goosebumps arise on your skin almost immediately.

He was quiet. That wasn't a good sign. You waited- staring at him, pulling at your chains as he looked at the blade. Fist tightening as he saw the little heart that was engraved into the hilt. Betrayal flushed his senses as he pushed the knife into your upper leg- making you scream in return.

Twisting the knife- hearing your agony but not stopping- he quickly hit you into your left eye socket with the hilt of the knife to shut you up. he didn't want to hear your screams.

Even if he didn't wanted to admit it- he was also teared apart- but his need to let his anger out was stronger - all the time he spent with a fucking liar- gave you his fucked up heart. All for you to be a fucking snake- a traitor.

He had to do his job- protect his family.

Another jab to the eye- hearing your muffled cries echo across the room- making you see red- the burning sensation was an ugly one. You couldn't see on that eye anymore.

"I fuckin' wish I could just kill you" he seethed before leaving you there in the dark- all beat up and bloody- head throbbing and surely a broken nose- making it hard to breath.

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You waited since then. Waiting for death to come. Waiting for Ghost to end it- but of course he never came back since then. Your wounds were starting to inflame- everything hurt and burned. Your eye swelling almost shut.

They all tortured you. Johnny, Kyle, John and Simon.

But they forgot something important. You were known for being patient. A fucking patient and stubborn woman. You waited. Yes you sometimes protested, and kicked and screamed and insulted them- but you neverthless waited for the day.

The day they finally see that they wronged an innocent. The day you would hurt them. Seek revenge.

Fucking. Revenge.

-

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[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 1

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Koschei the Deathless Sorcerer was killed by the Spymaster of the Night Court. 

It was less dramatic than it sounded. At least Azriel thought so. 

And if Lucien hadn’t been a fucking idiot and put himself into a position to be kidnapped by the very same deathless sorcerer…then they wouldn’t even have been in that kind of situation. 

But he had been and so it ended with Azriel so magically exhausted that he collapsed the very same moment Truthteller stroke true once more. 

At least Koschei was slayn. 

And the only reason Azriel had gone to rescue the red-headed male in the first place was the fact that  Lucien was Elaine’s mate. Lucien was the male Elain loved. Azriel couldn’t let him die. 

Couldn’t let Elain feel the devastation of a mating bond broken by death…so his decision making had been quick. Either he would manage to get Lucien free…or he would die trying.  There wasn’t many things that he wouldn’t do for the female he loved. Even when he knew it shouldn’t be. 

Azriel had never been very good at knowing when enough was enough after all, wasn’t he?

No price was high enough to pay when it was about Elain’s happiness, as far as Azriel was concerned.  

He hadn't expected to wake up, and yet… there he was. Alive and whole.

*I hope it was worth it, Master,* the shadows sniped at him.

He blinked, taking in the dim light of the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. His room in the House of Wind.

“You are a fucking idiot, you know?” Cassian hissed at him from his place at his bedside and Azriel blinked at him.

"Lucien?" he brought out hoarsely.

"Not as much as a fucking scratch on him. Thanks to you," Cassian responded. "You on the other hand...Madja thought you were going to fucking die from pure magical exhaustion!"

Even Azriel he had...it would have been worth it. Lucien had made it out alive - and that was all that mattered in the end. Elain would be happy. That was all he cared about.

He didn't say that aloud though. 

He took a deep breath, opening his eyes again. "How long was I out?" he asked.

"Three days," Cassian growled. "Three. Days."

Azriel sat up slowly, wincing at the ache in his muscles. It felt like his entire body was one giant bruise, every inch of him pained and sore.

"Lay back down," Cassian snapped.

Azriel shot him a glare, but sank back onto the bed nonetheless. "I'm fine," he grumbled. "Just tired."

"Yeah, well, we'll let Madja be the judge of that," Cassian snapped. "And when you are feeling better, I am going to kill you for going off on your own!"

Azriel just gave him a weary look. "Better me than you," he said dryly. He closed his eyes, feeling a deep exhaustion settle over him. Cassian had Nesta to think about. Azriel didn't. Azriel just had himself.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" Cassian demanded.

Azriel didn't have the energy to answer

He dosed off, feeling the shadows twine around him. They were muttering, words he could c quite understand, bitching under their breath but for once it was comforting.

He woke up, feeling groggy and disoriented. His eyes felt like sandpaper, and his limbs were heavy. He groggily blinked at the room, feeling like he was in a haze.

It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone. Cassian was still there, as was Madja.

Azriel groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head was throbbing, and his vision was a little blurred. He rubbed his face, trying to clear the fog from his mind. "Hey," he said, his voice rough and gravelly.

Cassian and Madja both looked at him, their expressions relieved. "How are you feeling?" Madja asked him, moving closer to the bed and waving a hand in front of his face.

"Like I was hit by a wagon," Azriel admitted. His muscles felt tight and sore, his body heavy with fatigue. His wings felt like they were made of lead, and every movement took a huge effort.

"That's unsurprising considering you nearly magicked yourself to death," Madja said gruffly. "Your body had a tremendous amount of stress and strain put on it. You're lucky to be alive."

He gritted his teeth. "Yeah, well, I didn't have a lot of other options," he pointed out.

Madja just let out a huff and began prodding and poking at his body, running her hands over his wings and checking his pulse. Cassian watched anxiously from the side, his arms crossed over his chest.

Azriel bore her ministrations in silence, trying not to wince as she poked and prodded at him. He knew she was just trying to help, but it didn't make the ordeal any more pleasant.

After what felt like forever, she finally stepped back, nodding to herself. "You're lucky, shadowsinger," she said gruffly. "You're lucky you're so damn resilient," she said, and he couldn't tell if it was a compliment or just an observation.

He looked at her blearily. "I guess I can add that to my list of things to be proud of," he muttered sarcastically.

Cassian barked out a laugh, but Madja just rolled her eyes. The door opened at that moment. "How's he doing?" Rhys demanded.

Azriel wanted to let out a sigh at the sight of Rhys. He loved his brother, but he didn't have the energy for a lecture right now.

Madja turned to Rhys. "He's weak and he's stupid," she snapped. "But he's alive."

Rhys let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. "Thank you, Madja," he said. "Would you...give us a moment?"

Madja nodded, patting Azriel's leg as she got up to leave. "Rest," she ordered. "And no strenuous activity for at least a week."

As soon as the door closed behind her, Rhys turned to Azriel. "What were you thinking?" he demanded, his eyes blazing.

"I was thinking that I was saving Lucien's life," Azriel replied evenly, meeting his brother's gaze. "I couldn't let him die, Rhys."

"Wouldn't that have made it easier for you?* Rhys demanded sharply mentally. *You are the one that fancies himself in love with Elain.*

Maybe it shouldn't hurt him as much as it did. He didn't fancy himself in love with her. He was in love with her. Had been in love with her and Rhys had been the one to order him away from her, which had given Lucien the opportunity to swoop in and Elain had...Elain had given in. Given in to that Siren Song of the Mating Bond and was very much in love with her mate now. 

It hurt to hear Rhys say it like that, like it was just some passing infatuation that he'd gotten over.

*Lucien is her mate,* he responded simply. He didn't say what he really thought. He didn't say that he would rather have Elain be happy and never talk with him again than to have her wilt like one of her flowers because her mate had died and the mating bond would be broken… He didn't say that he loved Elain enough, that her happiness was more important to him than anything else. He didn't say any of that.

*At least you are recognising that now,* Rhys said with a snort.  Azriel didn't flinch. Didn't react.

He hid away in that little corner of his brain he went to when everything became too much. Where he could just shut up all his feelings, all these pesky emotions, and just be...nothing. Nothing. That's the only thing he still had left.

He just shrugged, schooling his face into a careless expression. "I did what I had to do, Rhys," he repeated stubbornly. "Lucien is a good male. He didn't deserve to die."

"Elain wants to thank you," Rhys said suddenly.

Azriel's stomach twisted as Rhys mentioned Elain. He felt a pang of longing in his chest, a desperate ache to see her, to touch her, to hear her voice. But he knew he couldn't. He couldn't subject himself to the torture of seeing her with her mate, seeing her happy in Lucien's arms.

So his answer was definite: "There is no need for that," he said simply.

Rhys gave him a sharp look. "Don't be an idiot," he said gruffly. "She's been worried sick about you."

But Azriel just shook his head, even as his heart thudded in his chest.

*You can keep it together for 5 minutes,* Rhys snapped into his mind.

"Rhys," Cassian said carefully. "If he doesn't want to, just let it..."

"He's being ridiculous," Rhys snapped, interrupting Cassian. "Elain is family.”

Azriel grit his teeth but didn't respond. He didn't have the energy for an argument right now. He just wanted to sleep.

*See her for 5 minute snad then you can sulk like a spoiled child until you feel better about yourself,* Rhys bargained drily.

Azriel hesitated. He knew he should see her, knew that it would make things easier for everyone if he did. But the thought of seeing her, seeing her happy with Lucien when he was so miserable, was like a knife to the gut.

"Does it even matter what I want?" he asked, his voice flat.

Rhys let out a frustrated sigh, looking at him with exasperation. "Az, stop being so damned stubborn. Elain has been worried sick about you - the least you can do is let her see that you are alive."

Azriel didn't say anything. Didn't respond. He just stared at Rhys, feeling like every fiber of his being was being pulled apart. He wanted to see her. Wanted to see her more than anything. But he knew that once he saw her, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together. He would break. He would shatter into a thousand pieces.

"Just...come on, Az," Rhys said finally. "Let her see you. She needs to know you're alright."

Azriel knew he couldn't say no. Knew he couldn't hurt her like that. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Fine," he said softly. "But just for five minutes."

Five minutes. He could do five minutes. He had to. For her…

She was still as achingly beautiful as she always had been. These devasting brown eyes, the caramel curls...

Azriel's breath hitched at the sight of her, and he felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over him. Love, longing, sadness, and that bittersweet pang of being so close to something he could never have.

Behave, Rhys warned him sharply.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Trying to push back that wave of feelings that threatened to drown him. It was just five minutes, he reminded himself. Five minutes. He could do this.

The shadows swirled around him, welling up with intensity, shrouding much of his body in inky blackness and Elain flinched back from them.

She had never quite warmed up to them. Azriel was just thankful for that display, for keeping her away from him as she entered the room, Lucien on her heels.

"How...How are you feeling?" she asked him, her voice soft.

He could tell that she was worried, that she was concerned for him. It warmed something inside him, and he hated himself for it. 

"I'm fine," Azriel answered hoarsely.  "Just tired.

"I...thank you," Elain said softly, binting her lip. "If you hadn't...if you hadn't killed Koschei and freed Lucien...I...Thank you, Azriel."

Hearing her say his name again was like a punch to the gut. It was both a comfort and a torture, to be so close to her and yet so far away. He swallowed hard, biting back the words that threatened to spill out.

"You don't owe me any thanks," he said quietly. "I just did what had to be done."

"I do owe you my life," Lucien disagreed. "Thank you. Without your interference...I wouln't have survived, " he said flatly.

Azriel just shrugged, feeling a wave of bitterness wash over him. He had saved Lucien, had risked his life to save the male who was mated to the female he loved. It was a strange sort of irony.

"It's fine," he said roughly. "I'm just glad I got there in time."

He couldn't look at her. Couldn't look at Lucien. It hurt too much. So he stared at the floor, willing the shadows to consume him entirely.

"We are all just happy you are feeling alright," Elain said softly. "I...I was worried about you. Everyone was."

Azriel forced himself to look up at her, his heart clenching at the sincerity in her eyes. She really had been worried about him. "I'm alright," he promised her, his voice rough. "Really. I just need some rest."

Elain hesitated, taking a step forward. He could hear her heartbeat, could feel the warmth radiating off her skin. It was torture to be so close to her and yet so far away. It was torture to know that she was so close and yet so unattainable. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to hold her, but he knew he couldn't. He held onto that last shred of reason he had.

She tugged a piece of hair behind one delicately arched ear...and that was the moment he saw the gold and pearl ring that decorated her ring finger.

"Congratulations." He wasn't sure how he even brought out these words...how he managed to make them sound...appropriately happy for her.

It took a herculean effort to say those words, to offer a smile that barely reached his eyes. Every fibre of his being was screaming in protest, yelling that he should have been the one giving her that ring, that he should have been the one by her side. But he pushed back those feelings, burying them deep down inside of himself. He couldn't let her see how he truly felt. He couldn't let her know how much it was tearing him apart to stand there and look at her. Look at her with her mate, with the male she loved, the one she had chosen. 

"Congratulation," he repeated, his voice a little rougher than before.

"It wouldn't have been possible without you," Elain said, with a smile.

Azriel just nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. He couldn't find the words to respond, couldn't find the words to express the tangle of emotions swirling inside of him. He just sat there, feeling more alone and isolated than he had in a long time.

Elain took another step in his direction, seemingly ready to reach out, but Cassian intercepted her. placing a gentle hand on Elain's shoulder. "He needs his rest," he said softly. "Let's leave him be for now."

Azriel felt a pang of gratitude towards Cassian. Elain hesitated, looking torn.

"I wish you every happiness," Azriel brought out his voice hoarsely. Not even a lie.  It was the frank truth in these words and Elain gave him a smile, before Lucien's hand came to rest at her lower back, guiding her out of the room.

Thank the cauldron. They were gone. 

He slumped back into the pillow.  He was falling apart. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically. He just wanted to be left alone, to lick his wounds in peace.

"Az..." Cassian said carefully, but he cut him off.

“I am tired,” Azriel said, his voice hoarse. “I need to sleep.”

The shadows swirled around him tighter. 

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a look, before Cassian nodded, "Alright," he said. "Get some rest."

He laid down properly, closing his eyes, calling the shadows to him wordlessly. They swamred around him immediately. Damn Near suffocating him.  It was the only thing that kept him from starting to sob.

The shadows embraced him, wrapping him in their inky blackness, shielding him from the outside world. They were his only comfort, just like they had been for centuries. 

*We are there, Master.* They promised him softly. *It will be fine, Master.*

He didn’t believe a fucking word they said. 

*We are not willing to lose you, Master. We aren’t interested in finding a new master,* they told him seriously. He choked out a laugh that turned into a sob. 

*Sleep, Master. We'll keep watch,* they promised him.

And they did. 

Bone deep exhaustion meant that at least his sleep was dreamless. At least that was given to him. It was a small mercy. 

When he woke up again, Nesta was there, sitting in an armchair reading.

Azriel blinked, feeling disoriented and groggy. He sat up slowly, wincing as his wounds protested the movement. Nesta looked up from her book, her expression neutral.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him quietly.

"Fine," he answered, his voice hoarse. He was fine. He would be fine. 

"Thank you," Nesta said suddenly.

Azriel looked up at her, surprised. He wasn't even sure what she was thanking him for.

"For what?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

“You nearly got yourself killed to save my sister’s mate. I think Thank you is the least I owe you," Nesta said drily.

She mustered him with grey eyes and he knew that she knew. Knew that she knew or at the very least could guess about his feelings for Elain and probably be right. She wouldn't say anything, but she knew.

He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. It was over with. Done. 

Lucien and Elain could be happy and Azriel…Azriel would hide away somewhere. 

"You don't owe me anything," he waved Nesta off weakly, but she didn’t seem to want to take the hint, sticking out her chin. 

"Yes, I do," Nesta disagreed. "You are the reason why my little sister is happy right now," she told him fiercely. He swallowed down the unkind words at the tip of her tongue...didn't say anything. Didn't.... He didn’t want to think about this. He didn’t…

"Is there anything I can do?" Nesta asked him, her voice soft. "Anything at all, Az?" H knew that he could ask for anything and Nesta would do her level best to give it to him. She was stubborn like that. He had half a mind to ask her to use her silver flames to put him on fire and put him out of his misery. 

He didn’t. 

Even that wouldn’t fix it. 

There was nothing. There was absolutely nothing to make it any better. There was nothing that could...that could fix the ache in his chest.

"Porridge," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Porridge?" Nesta repeated incrediously.

"Porridge with honey. I am hungry," he repeated, meeting her gaze. Food. Food. More Sleep. More Work. He could fill his waking hours with useless things and everybody would be happy. 

Nesta just looked at him for a moment, then inclined her head.

"Porridge with honey. Alright," she agreed. Just a moment later a massive bowl of Porridge with honey drizzled on top, appeared on his bedside table, so hot it was steaming. Seemed like the house was in a mood to spoil him. He even got a whiff of cinnamon from it.

"Thank you," he thanked Nesta's creature aloud as the shadows fetched the bowl and held it up for him to eat a spoonful. "What are you reading?" he asked Nesta, changing the topic. 

She was polite enough not to say anything about it. 

Nesta held up her book. “The newest Sellyn Drake novel,” she replied.

"Is it any good?" he inquired, stirring his porridge gently.

“It’s brilliant," Nesta gushed, her eyes devoured the pages as soon as she looked down to continue reading.

"You seem to really like it," he pointed out, taking another bite of his porridge. "It is brilliant," Nesta agreed readily. “The plot is so intricate and twists and turns and the characters are so deep and complex and their emotions are so real and the romance is so...” she trailed off, blushing slightly.

He opened his mouth to respond...but then he heard her.

Mor. Of course.

He couldn’t deal with Mor. Not right now. But there she was, Rhys hot on her heels.

Nesta heard her too, rolling her eyes, curling back up on her chair, making it very clear that while she was going nowhere, she was letting him deal with it on her own. 

And he didn’t want to deal with Mor. 

But there she was. 

Mor came strolling into the room, her usual confident smile firmly in place. Rhys just looked at Azriel, his expression unreadable.

He didn't say it.  But Azriel knew. Behave. That’s all Rhys was telling him these days.  Either it was about Elain and Lucien...or about Mor and Emerie. Like Azriel would ever do anything to put that in jeopardy. Like Azriel was a jealous child that wouldn't allow Mor to be happy on her own terms. Like...

Azriel ignored the sharp pang of hurt that shot through him at Rhys's look.

Still it was better than looking at Mor…he couldn’t bear to look at Mor. 

 Didn't want to look at Mor, in her usual bright red, skin baring dress, that clung to all her curves...didn't want to look at the female he had spent centuries in love with even when he had known that she was never going to return his affections...it hadn't helped him. He had still been in love with her.

And he had still hoped...hoped against all hope that maybe...maybe there would be a time where she would return his affection...that maybe there would be a time where...

But there wouldn't. He knew. He knew. And he had still been in love with her.

Would have given damn near anything for her attention, for that broad smile on her face to be directed in his direction...would have given anything for her to bound over to his bedside and envelope him in her arms...to feel her soft skin against his as she hugged him fiercely, cinnamon and citrus enveloping him.

Now...now it felt like somebody was pouring salt into a gaping wound. Now it felt as painful as the fire and oil on his hands had. She was flaying him alive and she wasn’t even aware that she was hurting him. 

"How are you feeling, Az?" Mor's voice was gentle, concerned. He knew it was genuine, knew that Mor really cared about him. But he couldn't bring himself to look at her. Not when his heart was bleeding out just from the sound of her voice.

"Fine," he answered, his voice flat. "Nothing that sleep won't fix," he promised her, even as her hands fluttered around him as she sat down on his bedside...

She was so close. He could reach out and touch her, could feel the soft fabric of her dress against his fingertips. He clenched his fists, willing himself to keep his hands to himself.

But he couldn't help it. He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. He could see the concern there, the worry. He felt a pang of guilt for putting that look on her face. He didn't want to cause her any distress. 

"I'm just glad you are feeling better," Mor sighed, gently patting his arm. "You had us all worried for a moment there," she admitted softly.

Even just the touch of her hand felt like she was branding him. He wanted to flinch away and forced himself no to.

It was like a bittersweet poison, the way she touched him. It was so familiar, so comforting. But it was also so painful, a reminder of what he could never have.

He looked away, staring down at his hands. They were shaking, just a little. He clasped them together, the monstrous scars that covered them, standing out starkly.

The shadows trembled around him, pulling nearer, growing darker and Mor watched them with a raised eyebrow. "Worried, are they?" she teased him slightly.

*You are fine, Master,* the shadows promised him. *No more fire,* they promised him fiercely. But it didn’t help. He didn’t trust himself to speak without his voice cracking.

Mor seemed to sense his discomfort and stood up, her hand slipping from his arm. "Just rest and get better soon, alright?" she said softly, taking a step back.

"Thank you," he thanked her, his voice hoarse.

He risked a glance up at her, just a quick look. Her face was soft, her eyes filled with warmth. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest and he had to look away again. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

"We should let him rest, Mor," Rhys said, giving Azriel another look.

"Right, right," Mor agreed, already turning towards the door. "Rest up, Az," she said again, giving him one last smile as she disappeared out the door.

Azriel felt a sense of relief wash over him as she left the room. 

Gone. Thank the cauldron. He couldn't take much more of her presence, not right now. 

He didn't even want to know why Rhys had accompanied her. Probably because he was worried that Azriel wasn't going to behave.

What was he supposed to do instead? Tell Mor about how much she had hurt him over the centuries? How she had given him jut enough scraps of her affection to make him yearn for more but never telling him that she didn’t love him like that? 

He wasn’t going to do that. 

He didn't want to look at Rhys right now, didn't want to face the scrutiny of his high lord's gaze. He just wanted to be left alone.

He knew that Rhys was watching him, that the male wanted to say something. But Azriel didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear the lecture, the warning. He just wanted to be left alone.

The room fell silent, except for the sound of his own breathing. He closed his eyes and sank deeper into the mattress. Maybe if he just pretended to sleep, Rhys would leave him alone.

"He's tired. You should let him sleep," Nesta said flatly.

Leave it to Nesta to tell Rhys to stuff it, he reflected weakly. He heard Rhys sigh, but he kept his eyes closed. And after a moment, he heard the sound of footsteps leaving the room.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. 

Alone. Safe. Mostly at least. 

Life went on. It always did.

The exhaustion went away after a few days... he caught up on Paperwork in the meantime. He sent the shadows off to find him one information or other and they didn't even bitch to him that badly, which told him that even they felt bad for him.

Behave. That’s all Rhys was telling him these days.

So he did. He behaved.

He did his job. He did everything Rhys could possibly want from his spymaster. 

He didn’t argue. He didn’t fight. He did his job and he trained and he did everyhting that was expected off him. 

And then he hadn’t tortured himself enough… and he went to visit Rosehall.

Where his mother lived.

Under the Mountains had it’s own kind consequences. This was one of them: His mother didn’t even want to talk to him anymore. 

50 years without him...and his mother had made herself a new family. A family that he wasn’t welcome in. A family that she wanted him nowhere near. He couldn’t fault her for it. Not at all.

She had been half a child when she had had him and it hadn’t been by choice.

So who could blame her for making a new family with people that weren’t as fucked up in the head as he was? Not Azriel.

Azriel didn’t blame her at all. Azriel left her in peace. He didn't reach out. He made sure that she was fine, that she had enough money to never worry about it and otherwise dissappeared from her life. 

His shadows kept an eye on her…He shored up the wards around Rosehall and caught a glimpse of her. And then he left it at that. She looked happy. That’s all he cared about.

Happy and safe and…she didn’t need him. She didn’t want him around her either, and he could understand that too.

And still, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much. 

But 

*You know the rules,* he told the shadows quietly. *You don’t need to report to me about her anymore. Keep an eye on her and only tell me if she is in danger or hurt.*

*Yes, Master,* they agreed readily. 

So he went back to the House of Wind. Back to Velaris…Back to work. 

He went back to his routine, back to his duties, back to his mask of indifference. He hid the pain behind his usual stoic facade, only letting his shadows know how much it hurt. He threw himself into his work, using it as a way to distract himself from his own loneliness.

And when he wasn't working, he would spend hours and hours in the training ring in the House of Wind, working himself to exhaustion. Anything to try and drown out the ache in his heart.

For gods sake, he even attended Elain and Lucien’s mating ceremony. And gifted them an appropriate gift. He behaved just like Rhys wanted him too.

He even summoned up a smile for them on their special day, hiding his own pain behind a mask of false happiness. He congratulated them both, feeling a pang in his chest at the sight of Elain's beaming face. But he didn’t let it show. He behaved. Like Rhys wanted him too.

He stayed for the whole thing. Stayed for the dancing, stayed for the feast. Stayed until he could physically take it no more. And then he had retreated to that training ring again, beating his pain and loneliness out on whatever dummy he could find.

He was so tired. Tired of hiding, tired of pretending. Tired of pretending like nothing was wrong. He wanted nothing more than to just scream and rage and shout and cry. But he didn’t. He held it all in. Bottled it up like he was so good at doing.

He was in the bathtub, sluicing off the sweat he was drenched in…shaking off his wings just because he could move them however he wanted to

*You should go out, Master,* the shadows suggested seriously. *Go out and find a female.*

He just snorted. *Not interested,* he sniped back harshly. *I am not getting my heart broken again.*

Everybody could just fuck off and leave him alone. Even when he was aching…aching for somebody in his life that loved him. For whom he could be everything. Somebody he could dote on. Somebody that wanted his attention, that wanted his love…that would like his ruined hands on their body and wasn’t paid to simply acccept it. 

*You could let us pick her!* the shadows suggested brightly.

His eyes snapped back open and he glared at the shadows swirling around the room. *Absolutely not,* he said firmly. *I mean it, you stay out of it.*

*We can’t do a worse job than you do,* they sniped at him. *Neither The Seer nor The Morrigan would have suited you at all.*

*Excuse me?!* 

*You heard us, Master,* the shadows said, sounding far too smug for their own good. *And you know it.*

Azriel just glared at them, feeling his temper start to rise. *I know I wasn’t good enough for them,* he snapped. *You don’t need to tell me that.*

*You think you weren’t good enough for them?!* The shadows asked him incredulously.

*They deserve better. So much better than me,* he said quietly. "I'm not good enough for either of them. Never was.*

What was he, after all? An Illyrian bastard? A monster? Either? Both? 

He had never said it out loud before, not even to himself. But in that moment, lying in the water, his heart so raw and exposed, he couldn't help but speak the truth that he had always known but never admitted to himself. "I'm not good enough for either of them," he repeated softly, the weight of his words settling heavily on his chest.

He knew it was true. Mor was a golden ray of light, the embodiment of beauty and grace. Elain was sweet and gentle and kind, a pure soul in a sea of darkness. 

And what was he? Damaged. Broken. Scarred. Inside and out.

He had done unspeakable things, things that would haunt his nightmares for centuries to come. He was nothing compared to them. He was darkness, they were light. And they deserved better than him, far better than him.

Even if he had loved Mor with every fiber of his being, even if he had yearned for her with every beat of his heart, even if he had dreamed of her every night, it didn't matter. It had never mattered. Because he wasn't good enough for her. And he never would be.

He wasn’t good enough for Elain. The mother hadn’t thought it to be prudent to make them mates. Both of his brother had been gifted with a mating bond, but not him. That should tell him everything he needed to know abotu the state of his own soul. 

So why…why should he even try anymore. 

Why shouldn’t he just stew in his own misery, alone and heartbroken and a monster and expect everybody to just leave him alone? There was no point of putting himself out there again. There was nothing out there for him. Nothing but more pain.​​

So he closed his eyes again, sinking lower into the water, letting the warmth soothe his aching muscles. He let out a long sigh, his mind already racing with thoughts of his next missions, his next assignments. Because that was all that really mattered now. His job. His duties. His responsibilities. That was all he had left.

Behave. That’s all he was good for. 

*Alright, that’s fucking enough,* the shadows snapped. *You are not letting The High Lord talk to you like that any longer, Master.*

Azriel was so surprised by their fucking vehemence that he could just stare at them. 

*The Morrigan used you for centuries to make herself feel better about herself,* the shadows snapped. *She used the feelings you had for her and that she was very much aware of to strangle you and keep you in line.*

Azriel swallowed. He knew they were right. He knew that Mor had used his feelings for her for a long time. She had led him on, given him false hope, only to yank it away time and time again. It had been a painful cycle, one that had left him feeling used and broken and worthless.

*She could have stopped at any time but she never did,* the shadows hissed. *But instead she hurt you on purpose. Instead of turning you down, she slept with other males to show you that you would never have her!*

Azriel felt bile rise in the back of his throat. Mor had flaunted her other lovers in front of him, making it clear that he would never be enough for her. She had used his devotion to her as a weapon against him, wielding it whenever it suited her needs. And he had let her. He had been foolish, desperate enough to cling onto any scrap of affection she might throw his way.

*And The Seer?! Granted she has never done that, but her feelings for you weren’t particular deep when she replaced you on her affections with The Fox as soon as you weren’t available anymore! If she had cared, truly cared, she would have thought about what happened during Winter Solstice,* the shadows snapped.

*And The High Lord? Don’t even let us get started on him,* the shadows snapped. *You haven’t even done anything since that Winter Solstice, and he keeps behaving like some kind of despotic Overlord, worried that his orders won’t be followed. If you wanted to punch him in the face, you probably had every right to it,* they mumbled.

Azriel couldn’t help but snort. 

*You deserve better, Master,* The shadows told him fiercely. *You deserve somebody that loves you.* 

. He wanted to believe the shadows. He wanted to believe that he was good enough, that he deserved more. But the scars on his body and the memories in his mind told him otherwise. He had done terrible things, things that he could never undo. How could someone like that be good enough for anyone?

*Alright,* he finally agreed weakly. *Find me a house,* he told the shadows, as he closed his eyes.

*A house? What kind of house?* the shadows gave back, sounding surprised.

*A house,* he repeated. *A home. Somewhere in Velaris. Find me a home.* Something that could just be his.

A home. The idea sent a flutter through his stomach. He had never…never truly had a home. Had something that could just be his and nobody else’s. Just…a place that was his, where he could be whoever he wanted, where he was accepted and loved...it was appealing. Maybe even more than just appealing.

He closed his eyes, picturing it in his mind. A cozy little house, just large enough for himself. Warm and cozy and filled with light.

*That’s what a male needs to take a wife after all, right?* He asked, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. Was that what he should want? What he was supposed to want? He had never really thought about getting married before. But now, at the mention of it, he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. A wife...a family...love and companionship. It all sounded so…so nice.

*You want to get married, Master?* the shadows asked curioulsy. *To whom?*

*You pick,* he told the shadows. They swarmed out in pure excitment. Azriel couldn’t even remmeebr the last time they had been so excited. 

He couldn't help but chuckle at their reaction. Maybe they would do a better job than him. At least they could probably sieve out females that were in a romantic relationship or preferred females themselves. 

*Find me somebody that I could make happy. Somebody that….Somebody that could want me.* Some long-suffering female for whom Azriel could maybe try to be enough. Somebody that would love him.

*What should she look like?* they asked seriously.

*I don’t care. Find me somebody that loves me and she’ll be the most beautiful female to me anyway.*

[hitomisuzuya]

OMG- SUZU'S REQUESTS ARE OPENNNN-

Could I request Scaramouche and Wanderer as the reader's step brothers?? They're twins, their mom is engaged to our mom-

When the parents started dating, they both thought about introducing their children to each other if the date goes well- their 5th date, they both decided to bring their children! So we meet them, bla bla bla-

She's an innocent little shi- purely because she doesn't talk with people, and was homeschooled most of her life-

Scaramouche and Wanderer both thought she was so fucking stupid, and they find it cute(somehow😭🙏🏻)-

When their parents got engaged, they(our mom and us) moved in with them(Scara, Wanderer, and Ei)—

She wore revealing things around the house and she doesn't know how Scaramouche and Wanderer thought about that, she wasn't really used to being around guys, considering that she's only been with her mother and stuff like that-

They've been holding out for weeks- one day, they both just couldn't hold back anymore- they waited until their parents were gone for their date, then they took their chance.

(can we also fast forward to the wedding day?? After the wedding, our parents went to- uhm- screw eachother-🙏🏻

While our parents got on with that shit, they also screwed us. 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻) -exclude this if you want:>

(Something specificccc- can this include bondage?)

Have a wonderful and amazing day, Suzu!!🖤

Don't forget to take care of yourself!!🖤

Here, some flowers to my favorite writer 💐🌹🌷💐

🖤🖤🖤

stepcest, DNI if it makes you uncomfortable, please. scaramouche x fem! reader. wanderer x fem!reader. smut. threesome. bondage. degradation. scaramouche receiving. wanderer giving. sex toy for funsies.

thank you so much 🥺 it always makes my day hearing i am someone's favorite writer ❤️ this is kinda dirty.

scaramouche and wanderer certainly didn't expect for their mother to want to marry. or to gain a stepsister. a sweet, delicate stepsister they both wanted to devour.

you are so sweet and innocent. very naive having been homeschooled. dumb in an curious and quite frankly adorable way. quiet as a mouse. you didn't even like making noise at night if you knew other people were asleep.

you didn't have any idea what you did to them. you always wore things that highlighted every dip and curve of your body. tank tops and low cut shirts that your breasts spilled out of if you leaned over. short, pleated skirts with thigh highs. today in particular you'd woren a skirt wanderer in particular enjoyed seeing you in, with thigh highs that made him want to sink down underneath the table in the kitchen and fuck his tongue into your pussy.

tonight was the night. the moment the mom's left on their date, they were going to take you. they felt you were ready for them, and they couldn't hold back anymore.

you were also hiding a secret of your own. you had an enormous crush on both of your stepbrothers. you weren't supposed to have feelings like that. they were never supposed to know and honestly, it was no surprise that caved easily to them.

your cheeks flushed dark realizing the position you were in. you were laying on your bed, legs spread and naked. your wrists were handcuffed above your head, wanderer slotted between your thighs. his tongue is greedily enjoying devouring your hole.

had both of wanderer's hands not been busy holding your legs spread with one, the other wagging and teasing the vibrator they both knew you had on your clit, he would've reached down and stroked his straining cock feeling your body twitching in pleasure in his hand.

his tongue swept languidly over your pussy, drunk on your taste. he alternated between fucking his tongue into your whole and pumping the vibrator in and out of your creamy cunt. he moaned shakily, latching his lips around your throbbing clit.

scaramouche was kneeling at your head, his cock pulsing as he watched your face contort in pleasure. wanderer was pulling moans from you that quite frankly made him feel jealous. grasping the back of your head, he turned it so you were looking at him. he poked his leaking cockhead against your lips.

your cheeks flushed as he smeared precum on your lips. you opened your mouth, scooping his cock head into your mouth to suck on. "who knew our stepsister was such a slut," he groaned, gritted his teeth as your mouth sucked wet and eager. grasping a handful of your hair, he bobbed your mouth up and down on his cock.

wanderer's eyes rolled closed, tasting your pussy clench on his tongue. his thumb turned up the settling on the vibrator, drool pooling from the corner of your mouth as you muffled moans on scaramouche's cock. jolts of pleasure shot through your body, your clit throbbing harder from the increased vibrations. "fuck, she's so close to cumming," he moaned huskily, his mouth sucking and working your pussy over in ways you'd only fingered yourself at night thinking about.

you were helpless, wrists delicately cuffed above your head. you wanted so badly to reach down and tangle your fingers in wanderer's soft hair, pressing his mouth down onto your cunt while you grinded your clit shamelessly on the vibrator.

scoffing, scaramouche pulled his cock from your mouth. a string of salvia connected your tongue to his cock. "shaking like a leaf, what a whore," as good as your pretty mouth felt taking his cock, he was quite content to fist his cock watching your body twitched with your impending orgasm. it was a treat watching you struggle to keep it together.

"please, please..feels so good," you choked back a whimper bubbling up behind your moans. scaramouche was far more pent up than he thought he was. your plea made cum spill out onto your chest. the frustration of not fucking you caught up with him.

as much as wanderer wanted to taste you creaming on his tongue, it was intoxicating to keep you on the edge. you sure had been slowly edging them without doing anything when they first met you. he shut the vibrator off, smirking at your whimper of protest as he took his mouth off your cunt. "be a good girl, and take it, slut," he teased, delivering a wet tap to your clit.

your cheeks flushed with adoration, your back arching off the bed, moaning from the teasingly rough treatment. scaramouche moved away from your head, as wanderer moved to your head. pulling you down the bed some by your ankle, he hastily spread your legs, grinding his cock head on your clit.

your hips immediately rocked up to rub your clit on the tip, your breath hitching in your throat in anticipation. your pussy was puffy and aching to be stretched apart by scaramouche's cock.

"stroke, but don't make me cum," wanderer hissed, taking your hand and putting it on his cock. he wants so badly to cum inside of you, even though your breasts would look twice as good spattered with his cum mixing with scaramouche's.

you stroked and pumped your hand on wanderer's cock, massaging your thumb on the head. the blush on your cheeks darkened feeling his cock pulse in your hand. "good girl," he sighed shakily, rutting into your hand.

your moans rose to a shameless octave as scaramouche pushed his cock inside of you. you gasped in pleasure feeling him slowly stretch you apart,your body shaking as he bottomed out with a harsh but languid thrust. the chilly metal of the handcuffs rubbed against your wrists as your fingernails dug into the palms of your hands.

"slut was practically been begging to be fucked by us," scaramouche moaned huskily, firmly grasping and kneading his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs. he didn't hold back anything in his thrusts, pumping his cock into you almost carelessly, all his frustration of holding himself back all this time releasing all at once.

you saw stars as his cock bullied into your sweet spot, bringing you even closer to the edge. your poor little body was wracked and nearly limp with pleasure. you struggled to form words to tell him how good his cock felt, but another burst of pleasure only caused them to fall away broken into moans.

wanderer's fingers dipped down to tease and pinch one of your hardened nipples, sending stronger shocks of pleasure to your clit. "fuck, i can feel you cumming," scaramouche hissed, letting out a satisfied, husky groan. his cock pulsed as your walls clutched tight while you creamed on his cock.

scaramouche's milky cum ribboned inside of you, your pathetic moans of pleasure fueling his thrusts as he chased his high. wanderer batted your hand away from his cock before his cum spilled into it. you hadn't even come down from your orgasm before wanderer was bullying his cock inside of you.

a softer part of scaramouche showed briefly for a moment, moving up to your head once he pulled out to rest your head in his lap. "you are all ours now, doll," he purred condescendingly down at you, taking hold of your cuffed wrists to keep them in place, the fingers of his free hand stroking through your hair.

"good girl," wanderer moaned, surrendering himself to the tight, warm feeling of your pussy, "keep crying for me just like that."

you were made for them, after all.

[casually-eat-my-soul]

I don’t know why I’m equating stiles to penguins and crows but stiles gives really pretty and super shiny rocks to his favourite people.

Maybe it stemmed from collecting rocks with his mother — “See, Stiles there are stars in the sea”— because they both loved looking at stars together so now they can carry stars around with them. (Stiles buried his best rock with his mother)

Stiles only clued into his feeling about Derek after the third time he had given him a rock.

The first time had been the day after Derek had killed Peter. Stiles knew what it was like to bury a family member. It took him nearly the whole day to find the perfect rock, or else he would have given it over sooner. Stiles awkwardly dropped it in his open palm stammering out broken sentences — “I like rocks- me and my mom - when she - it’s a good rock” — Derek looked very confused and frustrated. (He was thinking about the collection of rocks he had seen on stiles bookshelf when he was a fugitive.)

Stiles tried to defend his rock choice while also trying to explain why he gave it to Derek. It made for a very uncomfortable 4 minutes. Stiles gave up and just told Derek he could keep the rock or throw it away or fucking bury it with Peter. That he wouldn’t care what Derek did with the rock (lie). And with that he stormed away.

Unbeknownst to him, Derek heard the lie and kept the rock. He wasn’t going to at first, and had tried to just drop the rock but his hand wouldn’t uncurl from around the stone. Derek had generally understood that stiles had been trying to comfort him, and this rock was his confusing way of doing that.

He only truly understood after seeing the headstones that read Claudia Stilinski when going to deliver flowers to his families grave.

It was the first piece of kindness he had received since Laura died. So he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it.

—————

The second time stiles had brought Derek a rock was a week after holding Derek up in the swimming pool. Stiles had tried going down to the lake the day after swimming pool but couldn’t bring himself close to the edge. He had cried for hours after, scared that he’d never be able to get back in the water again. He wouldn’t be able to look for rocks and pretend his mother was still with him. Pretend that she was the one sending him the stars in the “sea”.

So after a week of going back to the lake and trying, he had succeeded in getting about knees deep. While celebrating Stiles stepped on a rock. Well two rocks. He had finished them out of the lake after he was done cursing. Loving how cool the rocks looked he went to make his way home. he had planned on giving the second less shiner rock to Scott so they could match. But he saw Derek on his way home and felt compelled to give it to him instead.

Still wet from the lake stiles walked up to Derek and asked him to hold out his palm. There was far less hesitance, glaring, and arguing than the first time stiles had demanded that.

Without even realizing it, Stiles had given Derek the rock he was going to keep. He was going to ask for it back and switch out the rocks but the look on Derek’s face stopped him. He looked more open and relaxed than stiles had even seen him, more vulnerable. There was a look of wonder in Derek eyes, as he fiddled with the stone.

Stiles no longer cared that about having the less shiny stone. In fact he was completely okay with not having it. When Derek realized stiles was staring with his mouth totally not open, he went right back to a closed expression. Words immediately begin spilling out of stiles mouth, without his permission.

—“ I couldn’t get in the water, after… - the lake, it’s … It’s a good rock, super shiny and it’s got a smooth texture. It’s kinda red like your eyes.” —

He even flipped his own hand and showed Derek his rock. “We’re matching, kinda. Well we were the only two in the water that night” He trailed off again before reiterating that Derek could just throw out the rock but Derek thanks him in the middle.

Derek walks him out of the preserve towards his car and reminded Stiles to be careful as there was still a kanima and argents on the lose.

——

The third time Stiles give Derek a rock is the night of his kidnapping. And technically Erica and Boyd’s. It was also the night he fully joined the hale pack, by protecting Boyd and Erica from hunters. The night he thought he was going to die.

Instead of leaving Erica and Boyd tied up, the hunter dragged them to the woods. They were planning on having a proper hunt. It was only by sheer luck that the three of them got away. Well that and the fact that the hunter were stupid enough to underestimate very desperate and pissed off Stiles. The fact that he had grown up in beacon hills and the hunter hadn’t was an added bonus.

During the fight stiles had tripped and and caught a stone in his hand. He was still holding it when he slammed his jeep through a wall. He only gave it to Derek after everyone else passed out for the night.

Stiles was sitting on a very uncomfortable chair in the train deport. However, that wasn’t enough to stop him from getting lost in his head. Vaguely watching as the rest of the pack slept in a pile. Stiles only came back to himself after Derek sat down beside him. The warmth of the werewolf’s arm around his shoulder allowed him to release the tension his body.

Stiles curled into Derek as sobs shook his body, not caring at pretending to be okay at the current moment. Derek only held him tighter, nearly pulling stiles into his lap.

When stiles had calmed down he grabbed one of Derek’s hand and gave him the rock. He heard a hum of confusion, one that prompted a sudden laugher.

“I thought I was going to die tonight.”

At his confession, Derek went still. Stiles stumbled through explaining what had happened that night. Derek just held him through it. He felt a little insecure when he finished. Over both the story and the ugly rock.

Derek just dropped his face into the crook of stiles neck and breathed out a thank you and that was that.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Stiles didn’t feel need to move. Moreover he didn’t want to. Which was a revelation in of itself. He would pay more attention to the maybe crush in morning, for now he was safe to sleep.

A few weeks later after everything calmed down and the pack is having a movie night, he give a rock to each member if the pack. Derek leaves the room for a second before returning. Later on that evening he goes to grab his sweater from Dereks room. He sees his three little rocks, now four. He absolutely falls in love with Derek in that moment. He didn’t know that Derek kept any of this rocks, but seeing the proof made him really happy.

Lydia makes a joke about stiles being a penguin. Stiles squawked in offense, of both himself and penguins. Claiming that giving rocks as a way of courting someone is perfectly valid. But that he wasn’t a penguin so it doesn’t count. She just gives him a knowing look.

This is what finally clues Derek in. His wolf already knew and was laughing at him.

Derek had wanted to give stiles back a rock when he confessed to him or on their first date or something romantic. Unfortunately that didn’t happen. Instead it happened after an exhausting fight with a troll. Stiles had stormed up to Derek about to lay into him for his self sacrificing tendencies. Derek thought stiles still looked like the most beautiful thing he had even seen. Even covered in gore.

So he plucked one of stiles waving hands out of the air and gave him the stone that had been in his pocket for far to long.

Like a switch of their roles, Stiles stared at the rock in quiet awe for a minute, while Derek stood insecure. Stiles let out a small giggle, quite happily whispered “he got me a rock, you got me a rock!!” And preceded to haul Derek by the shirt and kiss him.

Stiles goes around excitedly telling everyone that derek gave him a rock. He also used it in an argument with dad over their relationship.

They exchanged rocks and well as rings in their wedding. One of their wedding cake toppers were penguins.

Now that I’ve finished writing this all out I’m realizing that this could also be a creature stiles au.

[mooooonnnzz]

Can you PLEASE write about being stans daughter!!!! I read about being ford's and now I need to know about having stan as your dad 🩷🩷

Love You Forever and Forever

Stanley Pines x child/teen!reader

ᥬ✿ stanley goes by his actual name instead of stanford

ᥬ✿ 3,7k words oops

ᥬ✿ fem reader!

ᥬ✿ requests r still oppennn :3

ᥬ✿ book of bill website spoilers kinda? would u consider one of stans shame a spoil?

ᥬ✿ tw stans drinking alcohol is mentioned but in past tense!

ᥬ✿ mention of fords dad fic it makes sense when u read it

Stan wasn’t typically someone who wanted kids. He would have occasional drifting thoughts about how he’d have stories to tell for days if he had a little kid of his own. Those thoughts didn’t hold much meaning to them, they were just a little fantasy he would delve into whenever he had the chance. It seems like the universe heard his "calls" and being the reckless fool he is, he managed to get a woman he briefly fooled around with pregnant. 

How did he find that out? 

One day during the slow hours of the Mystery Shack, a knock was heard. Stan groaned, who could be knocking at his door? Shoving the newly counted dollar bills in his pocket, he grabbed his 8-ball-themed cane, in case he had to beat someone with it, and walked to the door. Pulling it open, there before him stood a beautiful woman. A moment of recognition sparked in his brain, but he was quickly blinded by her beauty and that feeling was instantly forgotten. The smell of her rich perfume filled Stan’s nostrils. Upon smelling the potent perfume, four words circled his brain. ‘Pretty Babe Who Has Money’

Leaning on his cane, he flashed a smug yellow-toothed smile at the woman. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing this deep in the woods?” 

“That won’t work on me a second time, Stanley Pines.” She growled, glaring at him so deeply he could feel her glare in his soul. Stan’s relaxed attitude was quick to dry up. “S-Second time? Do I know you?” 

“As expected,” She mutters to herself, rolling her eyes. “I’m just going to cut to the chase here, Stan.” Shifting the baby that was settled on her hip, she cleared her throat. “I don’t care that you stole money from me, that’s fine. Whatever,” she says with a shrug. “But as for karma, I give you back your baby.” 

The color drains from Stan’s face. “Hah, baby?” Stan uncomfortably chuckled. He opened his mouth to question where the baby was when it was quite literally right in his face. His jaw goes slack at the sight of his supposed baby sleeping soundly on her shoulder. “Look, lady. You got the wrong guy!” He pushed the door, but before it could fully close the woman shoved her foot in between the door. “Don’t do this to me, Stan. Or I will leave this baby on your porch and leave.” She threatens, kicking the door open with her heel. “Take the baby so we’re even.”

“I don’t even know who you are. For all I know, you could be lying to me.” Stan said, closing his eyes and lifting his chin up in defiance. 

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.” She scoffed. “Barbara, Barabara Smith.” 

That’s when the dots started connecting for Stan. Memories of him and Barabara resurface in his mind. That's why he felt that twinge of familiarity when he saw her. “It’s all coming back to you now, huh?” She rested a hand on her hip, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor. 

“Barbara!” Stan smiled awkwardly, finally remembering the woman who stood before him. “H-How have you been?” He uncomfortably laughed, trying to alleviate the tension that swallowed them whole. “Oh, I’m just swell.” Her eyes narrowed angrily at him. 

“So, about the baby…!” He leaned towards her, pulling a roll of cash from his pocket. “Why don’t I pay you a few hundred bucks and you can take the baby, how’s about that?” 

“You’re despicable, Stanley Pines.” She said with a deep scowl. 

Shoving the baby to his chest, she slammed the door shut. A blubbering mess of words spilled out of Stan in shock. In a quick flash, he opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. The woman was already in her car and sliding her keys into the ignition. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep the baby?” He yelled over the loud rumbling of her car, covering the baby's ear to block out the loud noises. 

As she backed out of her parking spot, she rolled down her window and stuck a middle finger to Stan before driving off; leaving a cloud of dust behind her path. Stan sighed. What just happened? 

Walking back into the shack defeated, he looked at the baby who awoke in his arms. “Guess you're stuck with me, kid.” 

ꨄ︎ Having no knowledge of how to take care of a baby surely did make taking care of you hard. Unlike Ford, he doesn’t spend countless hours researching and reading books about babies to gain at least some understanding. Instead, he faces the situation head-on with little to no insight on how to take care of you. “Alright, kid.” He says, slapping his hands together. “Let’s figure out a way to take care of you.” He stares at you sitting on the sofa chair for a minute or so, waiting for you to cry, laugh, or even let out a sound. Unfortunately for Stan, all you did was stare back at him with your big eyes. “Are you gonna do anything…?” He scratches his cheek. Moments go by and still nothing comes out of you. Stan is left stumped, completely and utterly stumped. But does this convince him to finally grab a book and actually do something that benefits him? Absolutely not! He instead forms a plan in his head. He leaves the living room and has you all by yourself for a second. You don’t budge. All you did was stare thoughtlessly at the doorway where he left. Peeking his head into the living room, he saw your face brighten up. “Huh,” He says, surprised. He wasn’t expecting that to work. Drawing his head back, out the corner of his eye, he saw your smile falter. Peeking his head back in, you smiled, laughing in joy. Needless to say, Stan was amused and continued this game of peekaboo with you until a herd of customers crowded the front porch. 

ꨄ︎ Feeding you wasn’t too hard! He did consider feeding you brown beef, but after reading the ingredients that were on the can, he decided against it. What he chose to do was to feed you what he had for breakfast. He had eggs for breakfast? Then he’d make scrambled eggs and give them to you. He didn’t have a high chair so he just sat you on the table and let you eat from his plate. He didn’t mind that you made a mess with your food. He found it rather endearing. “Good food, kid?” He’d ask you after every meal. “Yah!” You gurgled out, mouth full of breakfast. “Woah, careful. Don’t want you choking on your food.” At some point, during a quick run to the grocery store, he found some baby food and a high chair. He purchased them and when he arrived home, he couldn’t stop blabbering to you. “I completely forgot they had baby food at the stores,” Stan said, smacking his head with the underside of his hand. “Did you know?” He looks over to you. You responded with a smile. “Good to know I wasn’t the only crazy one here.” He walks over to you and picks you up, setting you down on the high chair. “Does this make you feel fancy?” He grabs baby food and with the spoon that came with it, he scooped it up and fed it to you. Luckily for him, you weren’t extremely picky on your food. You’d eat just about anything he would hand you. “You like my cooking better than this junk,” He would say after feeding you the baby food. “Right, kid?”

ꨄ︎ He would be lying if he didn’t find himself completely attached to you by the second day. He thought it couldn’t get worse, but during work, when he was showcasing all these different fake monsters to the tourists; all he could think about was your little chubby face and your cute laugh. There would be times when he’d close the shack early, just so he could spend some time with you. “A little birdie told me that you were missing me.” He said, picking up from your crib. “Isn’t that right, sweet pea?” He worked around this issue by implementing you in his museum of mysterious monsters. “Behold!” He pulled back the curtains, revealing you in a little sheep costume. “Half human baby, half sheep!” The crowd aw's at your cuteness. “The baby baa’s like a sheep when you throw money at her!” 

ꨄ︎ Picking out clothes was something he prided himself in. He would deck you down in the cutest dress and purposefully stroll down the street with you in his arms for people to coo and aww at you and him. “Your daughter is so cute!” Someone would say and you’d be sleeping on his shoulder, rocking a cute bow on your head that he bought you. “Oh, I know. She has my cuteness.” Stan proudly said. He meant that sentence with all of his soul. Yes, you do have his cuteness and if anyone else told him otherwise, he will argue back. 

ꨄ︎ Teaching you how to walk was one of the many prideful moments he had with you. Slightly crouched down, he held onto your little hands. You wobbled around, not accustomed to using your feet. “This is gonna be trial and error, kid. But as long as you’re with me, it’s going to be easy peasy.” Taking a cautious step back, he watches as you lift your leg up. Stan’s lit up, your foot stomping down on the ground. “Good, good. Now your other foot.” With your other foot, you raised it up. Shifting from side to side, you let out a scared babble. “It’s okay, sweet pea. I got you. No need to worry.” He assured you. Hearing his soothing words motivated you to continue on. With a deep breath, you moved your foot forward and stomped down. Pure delight and joy drummed through Stan’s body as he scooped you up from the floor and carefully embraced you. “That’s my girl!” he cheered happily.

ꨄ︎ The first time you called him Dad was when he was watching TV and you were on your playmat, playing with all the toys Stan bought you. The TV displayed a daughter and father, and you took notice of how she kept calling him Dad. Connecting two and two, you flipped back and forth to Stan and the TV. For a few minutes you were humming out words and Stan would smile at you and call you a cutie. At some point, he figured out what you were trying to say and picked you up. Putting you on his lap, he looked at you expectantly, hanging on to every single noise and gurgle you made. “What are you trying to say, sweet pea?” Chewing on your fingers you finally managed to say Dad. “Dada!” Stan is solid as a statue. Did you just call him Dad? He doesn’t process it fully at first but when you decide to say it again, tears begin to well up in his eyes. “I’m not crying, pea. I just got some of your baby spit in my eye!” He gave you extra snacks that day, and maybe every other day after that. 

ꨄ︎ Your first birthday was one to remember, for him at least. Initially, he was going to invite the whole town over to celebrate such a big milestone, but he was rudely reminded of a memory when he tried to celebrate his own birthday and no one even bothered to show up. So he kept it between you and him. At first, he attempted to make your cake but when that ended in shambles he chose to go to the store and buy you a cake. Bringing you along, he buckled you into your car seat. Starting up his car, he started driving into the road. While driving Stan couldn’t remember the last time he was so excited to do something. How long has it been since he’s felt pure joy in his life? Since he had company that was equally happy to be around him. He can’t remember a life without you and that scares him, but just a quick glance at you calms his nerves and he feels at peace. He never knew how much of an effect you’d have on him. Stepping out of the car and into the supermarket, he searched. Pushing the cart that had you in it, he looked at you when he reached the cakes. “Which one do you want, pumpkin?” With a back-and-forth conversation that had him do most of the talking, he decided on a small vanilla cake that had strawberry frosting slathered on it. He placed it inside the cart and continued strolling on. At some point, he picked up some balloons and candles. “Should I buy you a happy birthday banner?” He said as he put the packet inside the cart. After purchasing all of the birthday items, he left the store and drove home. Setting up the decorations for him was a blast. And soon enough, the whole kitchen was gorgeously decorated for your birthday. Placing you in the high chair, he gave you a tiny piece of cake. “Happy birthday, sweetie.” His party hat was drooping sideways along with yours. “Thank you for showing me unconditional love.” He planted a kiss on your forehead. 

ꨄ︎ Years went by and suddenly Stan was crouching down on the floor, slipping your backpack on you for your first day of school. “You ready for school, sweet pea?” Stan asked. You spun around, a small pout sprouting on your lips. “No,” You kicked a rock that was on the floor, fear and anxiety crackling through your small body. “I’m scared.” You admitted. Your vision was blotted with tears, your heart breaking at the thought of being separated from your dad for such a long time. “I’m gonna be so far away from you.” You sniffled, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. “Oh, come here.” A frown is so deeply etched on Stan’s face he worries that after this, he’d have a permanent frown on his face. Encasing you in a hug, he slowly ran his hand down your hair. “You’re gonna be okay, pumpkin.” He pressed a kiss on your temple. “You’re a Pines for Christ's sake, and we survive anything, don’t we?” You pull away from the hug, wiping off your tears with your sleeve. “Remember that I’ll always be there for you, okay? No matter the distance.” His hand cusps your cheek and on instinct, you lean your hand into his palm. “Mhm,” You sniffle, your hands wrapping around his finger. “And hey, if you don’t like it there, you can fake being sick and I’ll pick you up, alright pumpkin?” The idea of faking an illness just so you could be back in the comforts of your home made the anxiety of going to school die down a bit. You had an escape plan! “When I get back from school can we rob people of their money?” A surprised laugh bellowed out of Stan. “Sure, pumpkin. You can make me a sea monkey and make them believe we actually caught it, how’s that sound?” You nodded your head with a smile. And with that, he drove you to school. When he reached the school, saying goodbye to you tugged at his heartstrings. He couldn’t bear to see you go. With a tearful hug and a kiss on the head, you were off. Stan cried on the way home. The whole day, he was so distressed he didn't even bother to open the shack. When he picked you up from school, he asked you about your day. "I don't like school."

ꨄ︎ Stan could never say no to you, it was practically impossible to muster out the word. So when you asked to stay home from school because you weren’t feeling well, he said yes with no hesitation. You want this doll you saw at the mall, of course! Everything you wanted, you’d get. And did it hurt Stan’s pocket from time to time, but after getting over the initial shock of how much he spent on you, your reaction to getting what you wanted was enough for Stan to look past that. 

ꨄ︎ Summerween was creeping and soon the houses were decorated with skeletons and zombies, melon lanterns littered the town at night and kids were rushing to the nearest costume store to snag a costume of their own. Originally, Stan spent his Summerween scaring children off one by one with a multitude of tricks up his sleeve. But ever since you implemented yourself in his life, he hasn’t done that tradition in over 8 years. Instead, he’d dress up with you. You wanted to be Boo from Monsters Inc? Then he’d be Sully to match with you. Beauty from Beauty and the Beast? Then he’ll be Beast. Photos of each costume were plastered on the billboard in his room. His favorite costume was when you were a baby, he dressed you up as Rapunzel and he was the tower. The compliments he received from that costume were insane. It was enough to fuel him into entering a costume competition and shockingly enough, he won! 

ꨄ︎ Snowball fights in the winter is an activity you and Stan can never pass up on. You could be innocently building a tiny little snowman when you feel a snowball hit your back and slide down your jacket. Looking behind you, you could see Stan whistling to himself as he pretended to occupy himself with the snow. When he clumped the snow together, he shot a glance over your way. What he wasn’t expecting was to see you gone from your spot. His stomach drops, were you snatched by some rando in the woods when he wasn’t looking? Dropping his snowball he called out your name. Each time you didn’t respond, his heart sank more and more. “Pumpkin? Answer me plea—“ A snowball pelted right into his face. Sputtering out in disbelief, he wiped his hand down his face. A burst of laughter came from you and you happily clapped your hands together. “Did I get you?” Stan rolls his eyes playfully and before you knew it, a snowball was being shot towards you. You tried running away but you were too slow. The snowball hit you straight on the back causing you to fall face first on snow. Popping your head up, you laugh loudly. “Dad, that’s so unfair.” He scooped you up, wiping the snow off your face with his mitten. “Get used to it, I play unfair, pumpkin.” 

ꨄ︎ When Soos came along, it was a playdate every day at the Mystery Shack. He was just ten and you were eight, not too far apart in age, you and him got along fairly well. When Stan would be wasting his time away on the TV, he’d get a gut feeling something was amiss. All the time. And whenever he’d go looking for you and Soos, he would either find you and Soos taking apart some part of the house or making a mess of things. However, there would be times when he benefited from the mess. It was crazy enough that he was able to convince people that a monster had come into his house and wrecked the entire place. That gained him a few hundred bucks while it lasted.

ꨄ︎ Soon enough, you were old enough to work alongside Stan and help him with tourists. Back then, you used to create the attraction by gluing taxidermy animals together. Now, you do both! You lead people around, show them a few tourist attractions, scam them with their money, and get away with it. On the side, you work together with Soos to create new abominations that keep more people coming into the shack. After a while, Wendy tagged along and the three of you ruled the shack, kinda. On slow days, you and Wendy chilled on the roof, drinking pit colas and sharing stories with each other. Sometimes Soos would join, but most of the time he’d be too busy fixing something that broke. “Dude,” Wendy began, closing the magazine she was reading and setting it down on the table. “I sometimes like, completely forget that you're Stan’s daughter. How’s that for you?” She asked, resting her chin on her palms. “Eh,” You swiped the mop you had in hand back and forth. “It’s not so bad.” You said with a shrug. “It’s actually pretty fun.” Leaning on the mop, a memory from early childhood sparked in your memory. “You know, back when I was like, what? one through three? Dad had me as a tourist attraction.” You say with a fond smile. “What! No way.” Wendy chuckled out. “What did he disguise you as?” You thought for a moment, tapping a finger on your chin. “I think a lamb?” Another laugh leaves Wendy. “No way, that’s actually so cute.” 

ꨄ︎ “Dad, do you ever wonder how different life would be if Mom never came over here to give me to you?” Stan, without hesitation, replies, “Yeah. Sometimes I do.” Scratching his back, he locked the front door of the shack. You and Stan were currently closing up the shack for the night. “Like, what do you think about?” You ask, closing the blinds. “How calmer my life would be.” You scoff, shoving him. “Be serious, Dad!” You huffed out, walking over to the kitchen with him following. “You want me to be honest?” He plops himself on the couch that has his buttcheeks indented in them. “Yeah, duh. That’s why I’m asking.” You open the fridge and grab a pit cola. “Honestly, you were a gift in disguise.” He says. “Without you, I don’t know where I’d be.” He scratches his chin, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’d most likely be drinking myself to sleep.” You frowned. “You don’t mean that, do you?” Stan looks off to the side, he’s never admitted that to you before, or to anyone. “That’s what I used to do before I met you, sweet pea.” Walking over to Stan, you wrap your arms around him. “Well, I’m glad you opened the door that day.” You hold him closer. “Me too, Pumpkin, me too.”

i absolutely love writing dad fics for stan and ford ohmg

[meliciousmel13]

̗̀➛ boring.

i, want kiss you till my lips bleed, until i turn to bones.

warnings: smut, fingering (r receiving), also mentions of cannibalism?? but it's just an extreme way of saying how much you love someone.

wc: 3,607

SYNOPSIS: uhh, best friends?? maybe?? where 1 time you her she doesn't kiss back. 2nd time she kisses you YOU don't kiss back. theres a 3rd but i think i'll spoil.

taglist: @guysimgay164, @madisonbeerssecretwife @bandanamatt

an: IM SO SORRY for this kinda taking a whole ass week, but on friday i got such a fucking writers block, also i got a little burnt out cause i was writing a little over 500+ words a day, and that might not sound like a lot but with the shit i do everyday its A LOT. can't promise this won't happen again tho cause it probably will 😛 ALSO!! at the end it might suck cause i was in a rush to finish this, and also, it gets a little poetic at the end ngl idk what came over me

you didn’t know when it started. or when the obsession even started. you met at the met gala, being introduced by one of your close friends, she got your number, and sent you a text. by then you were attached by the hip. she wouldn’t leave your side. you didn’t want her to.

you didn’t know if you were best friends, but it’s been months and the stares in a crowded room made you think. what were you? you hang out all the time, you sleep in the same hotel bed and she hugs you from behind when sleeping. she was confusing. so confusing you didn’t know if she wanted you or just wanted to be friends.

you were at a diner now. with billie and 5 other of your friends, they were talking about anything and you were staying silent, laughing at whatever your found funny and sipping your strawberry milkshake that you didn’t pay for. somehow you always forgot your wallet. it was a scheme so billie would always pay for your shit. she got used to it though. sometimes you’d feel bad and buy her a flower or something.

billie was sitting across from you, occasionally adding to the story and laughing, loudly. you examine her eyes, lips, hair, clothes, just about everything. you weren’t deep in thought she just looked perfect in that moment. she saw you staring, and smiled. you felt your cheeks flush but you smile back, looking away and finishing your drink.

“can you buy me another?” you lean over the table, flashing you famous, ‘please please please let me get what i want’ smile, and knowing she was going to buy it for you even if you tried to deny it.

billie nodded, scooting over your friends and walking over to the counter with the singular staff and getting the milkshake, sliding it over the table to you and quickly walking—half jogging to the bathroom.

“so, you and billie,” everyone’s eyes were on you and you felt uncomfortable because no ones paid that much attention to you since you walked in the diner, “what are you?” zoe asked.

you shrug, “don’t know.” you answer, hoping that they would go back to talking to each other and leave you out of it.

“what do you mean ‘don’t know’ we know you guys are doing something.”

“we’re not.” you said, crossing your arms defensively, you desperately wanted to be ‘doing something’ with billie but you never made the first move. probably why your still single. too cooped up at home and too shy to make any resemblance of a love life.

“really?” she raised her eyebrows, as if she thinks your lying, “look in my eyes and tell me your guys aren’t fucking.” you let out a audible laugh at that, realizing she was serious.

“we aren’t fucking.” you lean over the table, and look in her eyes.

billie came back from the bathroom, and everyone pretended as if they never had that conversation. you sigh, and lean back on your chair, sipping your milkshake and putting it back down, realizing you also needed to go to the bathroom probably because of your 2 previous milkshakes. that was your third.

you get out of your seat and walk to the bathroom, wearing your usual sweats and one of billies oversized shirts. the bathroom was clean enough so entered a stall, did your business and got out. while you were washing your hands you heard the door open, seeing billie.

“hey.” she walked towards you.

“hi.” you answer, smiling awkwardly, walking towards the exit until billie stopped you, “what?” you asked, wondering why she stopped you.

“you seemed upset so i wanted to check up on you,” sweet. “did my friends make you uncomfortable or something? i can talk to them.” she said, leaning on the counter.

“no it’s fine, they didn’t do anything.” you shake your head, and she hugs you, mumbling ‘just wanted to make sure’ into your neck, and you thought she could hear your heart beating like a drum against your rib cage.

she pulled away and you couldn’t help but look in her eyes. they looked beautiful. she was beautiful. you felt your feet stumble, and briefly held her shoulders for balance. you were cautious of your proximity and breathe deeply. tilting your head and glancing at her lips. you were close. so close your could feel her breath on your face, the next thing you knew you were brave enough to kiss her.

you kissed her.

and she didn’t kiss back. one of her friends opened the door and you pushed her away, now she was the one stumbling.

“heyy, we’re leaving now, you guys have like 3 minutes before we leave.”

the ride back was normal, as normal as i-just-kissed-my-best friend-and-she-didn’t-kiss-me-back. fairly normal. billie was still touchy, hand on our thigh and your head on her shoulder. you were overthinking. completely. a whole bunch of, why didn’t i ask if i could kiss her before actually fucking kissing her. and, maybe i was too quick and that’s why she didn’t kiss back. complete bullshit, trying to make sense of whatever that was.

they dropped you off and billie took your hand before you got out the car, “should i sleep over?” she asked, and you shook your head, sleeping in the same bed as her after kissing her was awkward.

“no, i’m okay.” you answer and you saw her question you with her face, “billie, i’ll be fine, seriously.” she nodded, briefly hugging you and letting go of your hand.

you should’ve said yes. you weren’t fine. or okay. she was acting so normal about it, it consumed your mind. thoughts of your kiss. you couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning, and deciding that trying to sleep was useless and stupid.

so you watch TV all night long, binge watching a whole season of a show you couldn’t remember and trying to get your mind off of someone you see nearly everyday. you couldn’t wait to see her. and also wanted to run away. maybe if you just looked at her from afar it would be nice. but she was too nice. she invited you to hang out with her friends again the next day.

you were at a bar now. blue and red LED lights surrounded the place and there were at least 20 security guards around the bar. no one really recognized you so you never needed any people protecting you. but with billie, it was different.

it wasn’t loud, but loud enough that you kinda had to shout to hear people talking. billie was sitting beside you, talking to one of her friends, you hated going out. but billie forced you, saying “you can’t make more friends if your always at home” she was right, but still.

her friend looked at you and you tried to not draw attention to yourself, like a tiny pebble by the side of a road, she notices you though, even with your struggles to breathe as quietly as possible. you didn’t like being around people.

“—are you?”

“huh?” you question.

“how are you?” her friend asks again.

“i’m good.” you reply.

“that’s good.” she smiled.

“and you?”

“hm?” she turned back to you, not hearing what you said.

“i mean—how are you?”

“i’m good too.” she said, and you hummed. thats the longest you could hold a conversation. you don’t understand why billie hangs out with you. you were boring.

“billie.” you pat her arm, she turns to look at you, you could tell she was drunk by the way she looked at you. realizing that you had to take of her for once, “hey, we’re gonna go.” you said to her friend, not wanting to go without saying goodbye.

her friend was nice, but you didn’t know her name. too shy to ask, trying to overhear some say her name but no one did. she was sort of like you, except she had more than 3 friends.

“i don’t want to go.” billie murmured, gazing at you with bedroom eyes. she’s drunk. you remind yourself.

“we have to go, billie, your drunk.”

“i don’t want to. i wanna be with you.” you sighed. tilting your head back and seeing her friend give you a sympathetic smile.

“billie, please—”

“why are you ignoring me?” she asked, and you felt your throat tighten up. she’s drunk.

“i’m not.”

“but you are,” yes. “your ignoring me cause you kissed me,” she’s talking.“because you can’t handle being seen. you don’t like talking about your feelings—you don’t like explaining, you hate communicating. fucking hate it. how do i know? cause i know you—”

She was dragging her thumb across your lip now and you looked at her, “You’re not sober so your not allowed to touch me.” you said and moved her arm away. trying to ignore her words. the truth.

“so your saying i’m allowed to touch you when i’m sober?”

“I’m only saying yes because i doubt you’ll remember much of this conversation in the morning.” you said.

“take me home.” by home she meant your home. she was slowly moving in your apartment. leaving her shirts in your empty drawer.

“where?”

“homee, don’t you know where home is? huh?” she said snarkily.

you roll your eyes and take her hand, leading her out the door, and get bombarded with flashing cameras. you forgot to go out the backdoor. sighing you wait until billie’s bodyguard opens the door for you, letting her get in first then you get in behind her.

the ride back home was quiet, billie was tired, you looked out the window and she looked at you. you felt her hand sliding back on your thigh, where it belongs.

“billie.” you warn. turning back to face her, she had a cheeky smile on her face and you were too tired to handle a half-drunk person right now.

“your boring.” she groans, leaning back on the leather chair and leaving your thighs alone, “do you have a pen?” she asked the driver. the man nods and hands her a black pen. she wrote something on her arm and then gave it back.

you couldn’t care less, going out two days in a row made you nauseous. you needed at least a 3 day break away from people before going out again. she was changing you.

the driver finally dropped billie off at her house, and he was crazy to think you would let her be and trust her enough to just hope she gets into bed, it was too dropped. so you tell him to wait a little until you’ve put drunk-billie to sleep. more then a little because she was difficult to deal with.

she stumbled into the house and you sigh, “you know, i think i’m more sober now, can i touch you now?” she asked, and you walked to her kitchen to get her a glass of water.

“not sober enough. drink this.” she groaned childishly, but still downs the glass, burping and giggling afterwards. for now, she was being cooperative. not like you’ve ever dealed with drunk-billie, usually it’s just her taking care of drunk-you. and that’s considered a skill—a little inside joke between your 3 friends. since no ones been able to calm the storm in years! (it happened 1 time.) you get angry easily when drunk, and incredibly sassy and really hard to please. so it was sort of a surprise when billie calmed you down by literally, putting her thumb in your mouth, it shut you up, at least.

“can i touch you now?” she asked again, while slipping off her shirt, tossing it on the floor and revealing her black lacy bra, it wasn’t strange, you change in front of each other all the time.

“no.” you repeated. you helped her take off her pants while she sat down on the bed, and she repeated ‘can i touch you now?’ every few minutes.

“can i touch you now? please? please.” she said after getting fully dress for bed, and you almost gave in at her pleads but continued your game of torture.

“nope.”

“what?! i’m sober, i’m so sober you can tell right?”

you ignored her and handed her the tooth brush, “you can touch me when you wake up tomorrow.”

“why should i listen to you?” she took you by the hips and you had to remind yourself, she’s drunk.

“because.. i want you to.” you struggle to make up an excuse, she’s drunk.

she scoffs, “i’m not drunk anymore so why can’t i touch you?” she whispered in your ear. you didn’t believe her, she was still slurring her speech.

her face was so close. she’s drunk. she could kiss you. she’s drunk. what if— she’s drunk.

she still attempted to kiss you and you pushed her away when she got too close, “that’s enough billie. go to bed.” you contained yourself, luckily.

she groaned, again, and plopped down onto her large kind sized bed, “but i’m so lonely in my huge bed, alone.” she emphasized.

“i’m not sleeping with you.”

“i wish.” she mumbled, “why not?”

because i don’t trust myself. you shrugged and opened her bedroom door, ready to leave her house and go back home.

“please don’t leave.”

“i’m sorry.” you mumble, closing the door behind you and leaving her house. entering the car with the driver. he already knew where you lived, considering he’s been taking you home for weeks now.

“sorry that took a while.” you smiled softly.

“s’ alright, i understand dealing with drunk people can be problematic sometimes.” he said, patting your shoulder and driving down the familiar road where you live.

it was a short 20 minute drive, jamie even let you play the songs you wanted, it was fun. he was a cool guy.

you got home safely, opening the door to your warm apartment and for once it felt too hot. you slip off your shoes and get ready for bed. all you could think about was billie. she tried to kiss you.

billie barely remembered what happened yesterday. the moment she woke up she was hit with a massive headache. it was like her head was splitting open. she had a writing on her arm, written in black pen.

“she said i can touch her when i’m sober” it wrote.

she remembered bits and pieces of what happened the night before. she got up, went to her bathroom, and cleaned up her face. taking an Advil and eating breakfast.

you woke up feeling indifferent, just did your usual routine, having routine nothing do. sure you could hang out with your friends but they had work in the early morning and your starts at 7PM.

you contemplated calling billie and telling her all about last night but you thought i was time to stay home, you were comfortable, since going out too much it made you question your life.

you heard the door ring and groaned, having finally found a comfortable position on your couch. you get up and answer the door.

it was billie. she was wearing a top and some dark gray sweats, she looked out of breath. like she ran from her car, up 2 flights of stairs and to your apartment.

“hey.” she said, panting.

“hi?” you stand confused. billie bit her lip and hugged you tightly. what the hell? “bill—”

“you said i can touch you when i’m sober.”

oh.

“you remember that?”

she shook her head and showed you the writing on her arm.

“i wanted to talk to you about something.” she slowly entered your house, closing the door behind her and sitting you down on your couch. now you were stressed. what did she want to talk about—

“um, remember when we went to that diner?” oh fuck. “in the bathroom, you uh—kissed me.” fuck. fuck. fuck.

“yeah?” you try to control your facial expressions. as if you weren’t dying on the inside. you didn’t think she would actually talk about it.

“um—” billie was also anxious, she was massaging her fingers and playing with her top, “and you know yesterday at the bar?”

you nod.

“you know what that means?”

that you like me too?

billie leaned down and kissed you. even though you were expecting it doesn’t mean you were ready. she tilted her head, and you wanted her. you wanted her to rip out your skin and see your bones and taste you, eat you, rip you apart and consume you inside and out, make you a part of her forever. have you in a way no one else ever could.

“billie.” you breathed, the burning need was there. she could taste it and hear it and see it. you almost thought, that you’ve never seen something as beautiful as her leaning down to kiss you. how her eyes turned a darker shade of blue and how her lips turned bruised and battered from kissing you dry.

“yeah?” she was kissing your neck now. sat down next to you and touched your burning skin. held you and felt you.

“billie.” you called her name like how a child would cry for his mother. like you needed needed needed her.

“hm?” she responded, tugging your shirt and you took it off. she could see you. she could see your breasts and nipples and skin and bones. and you could see how her breathing picked up and how her lips parted. she touched you, groped you felt you. as if she didn’t think you were real. like something as perfect as you, couldn’t exist.

she gulped, grabbed you by the hips and took you to your room, your bed, your sheets, your pillows, but you wanted nothing more than for her to take you. you needed to live under her skin. have her name tatted on your back.

she laid you down, kiss you neck, collarbones and lips before kissing your breasts, burying her face in them like it was what she needed to breathe. she licked and nipped and drew figure 8’s around them with her tongue.

you whimper, bucking your hips and feeling her holding you down, “may i?” she asked, and slid her finger beneath your pants. you nod, unable to speak, “words, baby.”

“yes.” you said, yes yes yes, please.

she smirked, slid them down your legs and tossed them behind her. her tatted hand pulling your panties off and moaning, “fuck, angel.” she ran her finger through your folds and you squeezed around nothing.

she spread your thighs apart, leaned down, kissed you clit and sat up again, moving next to you and lying her head on your soft pillows, putting her hands behind her head and patting her lap.

“c’mere.” she said, holding under your thighs and sitting you down. she still had her dark gray sweats on. she was still fully clothed while you were naked.

you whine and she shushes you, sliding you higher on her body causing you to sit on her pelvis and having you clit barely brush’s on her drawstring, causing you to bite your lip.

“so quiet for what huh?” she traces your bottom lip, “don’t know what to say? hm baby?” was she trying to kill you?

you pant over nothing, grinding on her like a dog in heat and she guided you back and fourth by your hips, “fuck—” you mumble.

she hummed and stopped helping you, letting you do all the work, just putting her hands behind her head and watching you grind on her.

“good girl.” she rubbed our hips and did absolutely nothing to help. all you could do was helplessly grip at her shoulders and try to get off, “can’t cum without my help?” she abruptly slid her middle finger inside you and you gasp. she pulled your hips lower on her finger and added another, “js’ like that baby.” she hummed when you started riding her fingers.

you sigh—whining when her digits hit that spongy spot inside you. bouncing on her lap like a goddamn bunny. and she looked so entranced. like she was enjoying this more than you.

“i’m gonna cum.” you whine out. you hair framing her face, she smirked, curling her fingers and you came all over her, rolling you eyes back and feeling her kissing at your neck, still pumping slowly to help you get down from your high.

billie sat up, pulling you off her lap and placing you down next to her and jogging to your bathroom, turning on the water and waiting for it to fill up.

“you want some water?” she handed you a water bottle and you sat up to drink it,“your stupid.” you mumble and billie laughed, carrying you to the bath and putting you down into the warm water.

“how am i stupid?”

“because you took too long to confess.” you said.

“oh and that’s my fault?”

“yes, it is.” you said, and billie shook her head, undressing and getting in the bath behind you, ignoring you childish banter and peppering kisses all over your neck, causing you to giggle.

“you wanna go somewhere tomorrow?”

[uselesssomebody]

𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕦𝕡 - post!d&w!logan howlett x reader

complete masterlist | logan howlett - coming soon!

words || 𝟚.𝟡𝕜

summary || in which the reader gets stood up, and logan consoles her - in more than one way

a/n || self indulgent :)) guess what happened to me guys !!

➵ i know i've been literally dead but i may be back! not sure fully yet lol but i've missed writing. shocker, college is in fact hard and i've spent a whileeee adjusting. that also means my writing is prob a bit shit here but i just wanted to get this out

➵ first time writing logan - i watched deadpool & wolverine and oh my godddd this man can fucking get it. haven't watched the x-men movies so i kinda had to guess his accent, sorry if it's inconsistent. this is set after the events of deadpool & wolverine

➵ shall i revamp the blog theme guys? i don't have any ideas but idk if you guys are bored by it haha

➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff/smut/a wee bit of angst

➵ fingering

➵ age gap (not a plot point)

(tell me if i miss anything)

having 2 people in a one bedroom apartment was already cramped. 3 is insane. as much as wade tried, he felt bad for poor hugh's - *cough* logan's back for constantly swapping between the dingy couch and the mattress on the floor to sleep.

and the wolverine was never the type to ask for help, it pissed him off. they had been nearly atomized together for christ's sake!

another room on the floor had opened up, and as much as wade wanted to kick blind al off to that room instead, he knew the old lady wouldn't be able to pay the whole rent herself, and he had to make sure she didn't use too much fun-time sugar under fox's watchful eye. luckily, neither did logan have to live alone, as wade was quick to find a down-on-her-luck college girl who needed cheap rent.

so, now wade's stuck with an ornery old woman, and pretty-boy - well, man - logan got to have a cute girl as his roommate. just his luck. he checked in on his fellow invincible often, and as much as logan didn't talk, wade knew he didn't mind her one bit.

she tried to be a good roommate - cook breakfast for the both of them, pick up a sweet treat for him too if she was getting one for herself, and trying to keep to herself with the studying. but she couldn't help the little crush that she had on her roommate. like, come on.

older, mature, mysterious, downright yummy? what's a girl to do? she kept it to herself, but seeing him smirk or chuckle when she realizes she's accidentally been staring at him in that leather jacket or shirtless going to bed. at least she doesn't make him uncomfortable, but it feels pretty dismissive - how he sees her as such a fucking kid that he can't even take her attraction seriously.

logan took it very fucking seriously.

every day was a mental challenge - truly, god gives his worst temptations to his strongest soldiers. the liquor on his breath was still strong, not now because his life was ruined, but rather because his mind was.

this cute, young girl who looked at him like he was the solution to all her relationship issues, like his old-man body was good enough to fucking eat? it was a miracle that he hadn't taken her. and she just looked so beautiful as she got ready for bed, or as she bobbed her head to music while she studied, or as she buzzed around the small kitchen to cook her third cheap pasta for the week.

it didn't help how she'd always ask how he is, buy him little things to keep his mood up, and always offered to take the couch. he'd rather eat glass than let her sleep on the couch, but nonetheless, she offered every day.

fuck. it was impossible to sleep when she was just behind the wall, in her fucking shorts and tank. unbelievable. he needed a fucking drink.

some nights, he'll come home in the evenings to an empty house. it's rare - she doesn't have too much money to go out, but when she does, she'll usually warn him she'll be home late. he always makes sure to stay awake until she gets home, and even had the privilege of going into downtown to pick her up after the friends she was with had managed to lose her. she had hiccuped, tearing up in embarrassment as she watched him approach her drunk form leaning on a tree outside. she had thought the stern arch of his brow was because of her calling him so late, when really, he was just angry that her friends had the audacity to put her in such a dangerous situation.

"it's windy." he grunts, and she looks down at her short, strappy dress, ashamed.

"s-sorry. we drove here." she tries to explain, and logan relents, brow going from angry to grumpy.

"yeah." he finally sighs, walking with her back to their place. seeing her hands go to cradle her elbows, he places his leather jacket over her shoulders, and she swallows thickly.

"you don't have to-" but he's lighting a cigar as she speaks, in just his wifebeater he'd been lounging in. she decides to shut up, silent until they reach the house.

he helps her in and then waits outside to finish the cigar, and after she gets in, she sighs softly, carefully placing the jacket down. she starts trying to make logan some dinner as a thank-you, but passes out at the dinner table half-way through. luckily, she hadn't had the stove on, and logan's heart melts as he sees her, halfway through mixing a few eggs, head lolling off the chair as she drools a little.

cutie, he thinks, separating her fingers from the fork and bowl, and carrying her into the bed. as he tries to set her down, her fingers clutch his arm, and a small, sleepy whine leaves her.

logan's not a man to blush, but hearing that little beg for him to stay makes him fucking burn. he looks down at her, a hand running through his hair, and he gently tries to let her down again. she just holds on tighter, groaning, "warm..." a little mumble escapes her, and logan huffs. of course it's not that she wants him, she's just cold. he sighs, sitting down and letting her cuddle into his arm.

he had planned to leave once she'd passed out, but it was late, and he was old, so he had ended up just sleeping next to her anyways. the sun's rays the next morning pierce his eyes, and he sighs softly, waking up next to her. he swallows thickly, watching the way the sun hits her form, bathing her exposed skin in orange and amber.

the moment is broken by her startling awake. for a moment, she sighs happily, thinking that this was just a continuation of her dream about logan, where she wakes up next to him after a night of great sex, and they both live happily ever after. then she blinks.

his bicep feels bigger than in the dream, his face looks a little more real, he's- real?!

she squeaks, immediately sitting up.

"logan?"

"don't go getting any ideas in your head." he immediately defends, sighing. "you called me last night."

she bites her lip.

"you took me home?"

"put you in bed too. then ya fucking kept me on ya like a boa." he's joking, but she still struggles to tell between his grumpy voice and his joking grumpy voice.

"fuck, i'm really sorry, must have ruined your night-" she starts, and he gets up, ruffling her hair.

"it's okay. better knowing you were safe." it leaves her a little star struck, especially when he then goes to continue making the omelette she had tried to make last night.

he's cooking for her for once and she gets such a nice view of his broad back in that wife-beater. maybe things aren't that bad.

knowing how she always texts if she's out late, he's a bit confused to come home to an empty room. he huffs, trying not to panic, but he can't help how much he care for the girl. he leans back, lounging on the couch.

as an hour passes with no texts, he's about to get up and ... do something. look for her, call her - something.

just then, she walks through the door, purse dropping on the floor with a thud.

that's an attitude he hadn't seen before. she looks like a deer in headlights when she notices that he is in fact home.

"o-oh." she blinks, quickly picking up the purse, as if to console it. "wade said you weren't home." logan raises a brow, a little curious why the other man would say that.

"long day?" he finally comments, and she breathes out.

"shit day." she corrects. logan's brow furrows.

"hmm." he murmurs, stretching his arm out over the back of the couch. an open invitation. she hesitates but... he looks warm.

conservatively, she sits beside him, hands in her lap. she's not even paying attention to whatever channel logan has on as background noise.

theres maybe 5 solid minutes of silence.

finally, she sighs.

"i'm gonna go to bed." she murmurs softly, getting up. logan wraps his fingers around her palm.

"talk to me." he mumbles gruffly, and she knows that's a pretty big first step for him. she bites her lip, sitting back down, and takes a deep breath.

"got stood up." it's little more than a whisper, and she feels a pout forming on her lips, which she tries to reverse, to little avail. it's silent again, and she wonders if logan heard her.

of course, he did - spending a moment processing who the hell would stand her up.

"i'm sorry." his rough fingers press over hers, comforting, and she can't help but sink more into him than the couch cushions.

it feels nice, more right than the kisses she'd shared with the guy she'd been seeing.

"whatever." she tries to mumble, trying not to show her hurt.

"he's an idiot." his hand slips around her shoulders, and he can feel her pulse quicken.

"i'm an idiot."

"he's an idiot." he repeats sternly. "who was he?" she bites her lip.

"some... guy." logan suppresses a scoffing bark.

"not if he's got you like this." he looks down at her. she's ashamed to look up at him.

"i don't know... i just really liked him. i thought he liked me too." she feels a tear slip out, and logan's fist squeezes in anger as he sees her quickly wipe it away.

"he should be singin' his prayers that he even got your attention." that makes her giggle - strained, but there. he prefers the sound to her defeated mumbles. "look at me." he murmurs, taking her chin and angling it to face him. his eyes travel down to the cute dress she'd put on for her date - low cut, perfectly form fitting, "he's a fucking idiot." he whispers, hand slipping down to her waist.

"yeah?" she whispers, significantly less focused on aforementioned 'fucking idiot' now.

"yeah, princess." he murmurs, hand gently running up and down her side. he knows he shouldn't, but he can practically feel the jump of her heart at the endearment. "you like that? princess?" his voice almost has a teasing lilt, and her lids flutter at the difference in tension from 2 minutes ago.

"a little." her face looks so bashful, so unsure. after that depressing feeling of not being wanted - god, he wants to pull her out of that so bad.

"should be treated like a princess." she shifts imperceptibly closer.

"got a guy who'll do that for me?" she teases, and logan scoffs softly.

"you know i do." his voice carries that gruffness even with how quiet he is, speaking into the small space between their lips. "you know, princess."

she breathes out shakily, leaning forward, when logan pulls her chin, pressing his lips to hers. she whimpers softly, finding her hands and placing them at his nape, not wanting to let go. it's not rough, but needy, his other hand slipping to the hem of her dress on her thigh. she hums into his lips, as he pulls away, a little breathless.

"don't - we shouldn't." he whispers, and a pout graces her lips - a proper one.

"why?"

"yer upset." he sighs, but doesn't move away.

"about?" she says playfully, having fully forgotten about her evening; she'd been waiting for this for so long. he lets out a gruff bark of a laugh, pulling her closer, and she adjusts, getting on his lap.

"come on, bub." he scolds again, and she hums, leaning down to kiss him.

"please?" she whispers, against his lips. he groans.

"jesus, what're y'doin' to me?" his head tilts back, and she giggles, exhilarated that she's got him like this. her hands trail down his arms - god, his arms - tracing the veins, somehow always bulging, as she gently leans forward again, kissing him. this time, theres a bit more tongue, and he pulls her closer roughly, gnashing their teeth together. she moans softly into his mouth, fingers finding his rough palm. he grips them tight - not enough to hurt, but just enough to show that he's holding back.

"i'm not made of glass." she teases, and he scoffs softly.

"i could snap ya'n half." his mumble finds his way back into her lips, and she has to control herself to not showhow much the little quip affected her.

"maybe i want you to."

"jesus." he flips her over, onto her back, "got this pretty little dress on, fuck, that guy's an idiot." his hands travel down her thighs, and she bites her lip, a massive grin on her face.

"you like it?" she murmurs softly, playing with the strap of her dress.

"whadya think?" he huffs, and she giggles.

"and if i told you i got it for you?" logan presses a hot kiss to the side of her thigh.

"i'd tell ya to get a dozen more." his lips move up her thigh slowly, and she lets out a shaky breath.

"god, logan." her whispers of his name are like music to his ear, and he leaves a small bite by the hem of her dress.

"gotta tell me if i hurt you." he mutters, more seriously, and she smiles.

"only fun if it hurts."

"i'm serious, princess." she relents.

"i'll tell you." he sighs in content, gently riding her dress off.

"this okay?"

"more than okay." she helps him, pulling the dress over her hips, her lacy panties peeking under the fabric. when he spends just a bit too long staring, she giggles, "you can touch." she affirms, and he barks out a gruff lap.

"could'a guessed that much." his fingers trace the hem of them, travelling down her inner thighs. her breath hitches, and she gently rolls her hips, desperate for more.

"please, logan." she whispers, breathing a bit labored. though he'd love to tease, he's getting desperate too.

"gotta tell me what ya want, princess." he murmurs, and she bites her lip, almost shy again. it's cute.

"touch me?" she murmurs, almost like it's a favor she's asking. he kisses her thigh again, before gently peeling the panties off. he lets out a soft groan at how slick she is, fingers catching her arousal as they travel down her slit. she lets out a shocked gasp - practically a moan - and he fucking loves it.

`'need them, princess?" he smirks at her, and she nods, almost pathetically.

"god, i do." he obliges, gently prodding her entrance with his middle finger. he slips in with little resistance, but jesus, he can feel how tight she is.

"fuck, yer gonna be the death of me, princess." he groans softly, and she lets out a breathy giggle.

"thought that doesn't happen to you?"

"well, never had a girl as pretty as you." he murmurs, slipping another finger in. she flushes, back arching as his fingers do, body warm as she rocks her hips in time with his ministrations.

"faster?" she begs softly, and he could never say no to those big doe eyes. he starts moving faster, her slick absolutely coating his fingers, and she moans louder, hips moving in a more stuttered rhythm.

"like that?" that teasing lilt is in his voice, and she nods furiously.

"j-just like that-" she stammers, mind already foggy, "god, i'm close, please don't stop."

"not in a million years, princess." she lets out a loud moan as she can feel herself unraveling, the orgasm so powerful that her thighs shake around him as she cums. she pants as he helps her ride through it.

"good girl, just like that, princess," he consoles, "so fuckin' pretty for me, ain't cha?" he grins, as she starts to come down. as her breathing slows, so too do his fingers, before slowly sliding them out of her. he gently rubs her clit, just to see her jolt at the stimulation, before chuckling, and placing his soaked fingers onto his tongue.

she lets out another moan as she watches him, with lidded eyes.

"i'll cum again." she warns, playfully, and he's gleeful. she tastes like fruit.

"i plan on it, princess." she feels her cheeks warm.

"that's the hardest i've cum in a while." she admits shyly.

"sounded like it." he teases, but before they can get anything else out, there's banging on the wall that connected them to wade and blind al.

"these walls are paper thin!" al's screech sounds a little traumatized, and her scolding make both her and logan whip around, embarrassed.

"for once in my life, i agree with her! shut up, lovebirds, i wanna fucking sleep!" wade's voice is equally exasperated.

there's silence, until she calls back a bashful, "sorry!" she turns to logan, almost laughing, but still flushed with shame. "maybe we should stop. he scoffs.

"nah, just means i gotta teach ya to be quiet."

safe to say, she's not thinking at all about her date tonight.

[mochinomnoms]

How would ptm jade react if Yuu told him about marine mushrooms?

I only know what wikipedia knows about marine mushrooms...unfortunately for yuu mind reading doesn't give them sudden infinite knowledge!

“You know, with as much as you...like mushrooms and stuff, I'm surprised you haven't mentioned anything about marine fungi.”

You felt a chill run down your spine and Jade's bi-colored eyes on you.

“Pardon?” Does my darling also love fungi? How could I have not known this?

You shifted in your seat, staring down at your notebook as you doodles between the margins. A small button mushroom that you'd absentmindedly drawn minded you of Jade.

And you just happened to be doing research with him for your group project in the library this day.

“Sorry, I just was thinking about it, and it's just surprising to me that you never had, like an aquarium type terrarium or something with them.”

You let out a nervous laugh, after all, it was just you two by yourselves. Riddle and Yev were busy with their dorms due to the Spelldrive Tournament, and your dorm still didn't technically qualify, since all your freshmen were officially in other dorms.

Such a wonderful laugh, I'd like to hear it more...

“Well, to my knowledge, they don't exist.” Jade leaned in, his eyes wide and full of excitement. “By chance, do such mushrooms exist in your world?”

Please tell me more! Tell me lies for all I care, so I may hear your voice...though you wouldn't lie about such things, would you?

You perked up. It was rare that you knew something Jade, or anyone at NRC, had no clue about. It probably wasn't intentional, but the way people would look at you when you had no clue about something make you feel dumb, even though you logically had no way of knowing even the most basic things of this world.

It was kinda nice to be the one to share knowledge with another person.

“Well, I don't know a lot, but they mostly exist in marine environments. I think a few hundred?” You leaned in closer, moving your notebook towards Jade as you started drawing again.

“I can't remember their names very well, but I've always been a more visual person anyways.” You drew a piece of driftwood, a snail, and a rock covered in lichen.

“This one grows in mangroves, usually on the places. But this one grows around the shell of a snail, who eats it. And sometimes lichen will grow with fungi, but I don't know a whole lot about them.”

You paused, pursing your lips in disappointment.

“Sorry, I don't know enough to tell you about them, I know how much you...”

Your words trailed off as you looked back up at Jade, who was resting his check against his palm. He was staring at you with faint smile, and soft, half lidded eyes and pink cheeks.

So beautiful...

Cheeks and chest going hot, you stared back, opening and closing your mouth as you tried to figure out how to respond.

“Uh, Jade, you're, uh, staring...”

Jade stiffened, straightening up and covering his mouth in embarrassment.

“My apologies. I was just....enraptured by your descriptions.” And you. “I don't mind that you aren't familiar, but I would like to heard more from you about marine fungi. Perhaps you can tell me all about your world's plant life? It never occurred to me that your world would evolve differently, but saying that now, it seems obvious.”

He smiled at you again, his teeth showing a bit more as he excitedly leaned in.

“You struggle in musicology, yes? Perhaps in exchange for your knowledge, I can help you with practice?”

Please say yes!

You paused. Various suggestive scenarios that seem more apt for a risqué site or story flashed through Jade's mind in giddy anticipation.

You know better. You know what Jade's hoping for. You shouldn't string him along, you're going to get embarrassed. You're going to get uncomfortable, you're...

Another daydream, one of you two curled over a book, as you leaned into Jade's side while his arm pulled you closer, invaded your mind like a parasite in your brain. He had a tender smile as you laughed at something he said, your free hand reached up to cradle his cheek.

Maybe parasite is a harsh word. When the thoughts Jade had were so sweet and soft, it almost made you want to give in.

Almost.

“It's okay, I'm just a choir member, so there's not much for me to improve on.” You could hear your more logical voice sigh in the back of your mind. “But I'm happy to share...if you help me figure out if the mushrooms growing behind Ramshackle are edible.”

I'm weak…

Jade blinked, processing what you said.

Really? “Really?” Even Jade seemed like he was anticipating your rejection.

“Yeah, why not.” You shrugged, Jade's internal excitement flooding into your subconscious and influencing your own emotions. “Means less money to spend on food, and I'm sure you know plenty of yummy recipes we can use if they do end up good!”

Jade rarely smiled, at least not genuine, bare-teethed smiles. Despite the sharpness of them, you weren't put off by them, or him, at all.

“I would be honored.”

[frehyun]

Thirsty

vampire!hyunjin x gn!reader

warnings: vampire typical biting stuff

genre: fluff, a bit suggestive (??)

word count: 1,4k

author's note: i enjoy writing about supernatural beings and monsters a little too much and halloween's right around the corner so here we are. i'm too obsessed with jjam hyunjin and the MV as a whole so these pics are gonna get used a lot, I'm sure 😇 oh and, do NOT pick up random bats.

masterlist

divider by @saradika

You never expected bats to be so docile and cooperative until you found an injured one on your way home from work. The little critter was looking awfully smug in the blanket mountain you arranged for him so he could have somewhere soft to rest after you took care of him.

You had expected him to start thrashing about, maybe even bite you but after you had thoroughly proved to him that you were not a threat by softly cooing at him on the side of the street, the little guy had simply let you pick him up in your gloved hands to carry him to your home without much fuss.

You sighed, carding your fingers through your hair as you observed the bat for any signs of lingering discomfort, but you only found him fighting to stay awake, his eyes droopy and slowly closing every now and then.

It must have been one hell of a day for the little guy, getting injured by who knows what and then getting essentially kidnapped (batnapped?) by a strange person.

“It’s okay. You can sleep. I’m not gonna move you around, nothing’s gonna hurt you” – you whispered to him in his blanket cove, and it almost seemed like he let out a sigh of relief before hesitatingly closing his eyes to get some much-needed rest.

You had placed him near the windowsill, so he could overlook your entire room and not feel claustrophobic or trapped while also being able to observe whatever you were doing in your room.

What you didn’t know was that Hyunjin was observing you for entirely different reasons. You assumed the bat would feel threatened by you, while he was anything but. His little bat heart thumped faster at the prospect of you fussing over him and taking care of his injuries. While he really wanted to fully enjoy having someone watch over him like this, his brain kept reminding him of the fact that he wasn’t just a random bat, he was a vampire that needed to feed on someone sooner or later. He would rather it be sooner, knowing how weak, cranky and irritated he gets if he doesn’t get his blood fix.

That could wait, however, because for now he sank into the many blankets you provided him with and drifted off into very vivid dreams of you.

Your dreams weren’t nearly as nice to you as they were to him, an uncomfortable weight was pressing into your body. Your chest felt heavy, leaving you breathless and giving way for the rising anxiety in you to increase tenfold. Before the nightmare could take you further into its cold embrace, you jolted awake, your head hitting something solid that was hovering above you.

You and the unidentified object both let out a groan at the same time, your eyes snapping open at the unfamiliar voice right in front of you.

A gorgeous man was kneeling on the side of your bed, pouting while rubbing the spot on his forehead where the two of you collided. While he was distracted, you let your eyes involuntarily wander, taking note of how the flowy silk shirt he was wearing revealed far too much of his chest and long neck. His skin was pale but perfect and looked soft to the touch.

You blinked to rid yourself of these thoughts.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to” – he was already standing again at the side of your bed, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves, biting into his plush lower lip nervously.

“It’s just… You helped me, and I am really thirsty. My mind just kinda thought that…”

“I helped you? How? Who even are you?”

At that, something in his face lit up and a small sheepish smile appeared. He continued fiddling with his sleeves but nodded towards the small mountain of blankets that was still by your windowsill and now entirely empty.

“I’m Hyunjin. The bat. Vampire?” – he sounded unsure himself.

“Were you trying to drink from me? While I was asleep?” – your hand instinctively reached up to touch the side of your neck that he had been eyeing for a while now. In your half-asleep state you thought that maybe you would have let him if he did.

“I-��uhm, I think so? Drink from you, yes but I’d much rather you consented to it than me… descending upon you while you’re unconscious or-“

“Do it, then.”

“Huh?”

“You said you were thirsty, right? So drink.”

Hyunjin’s mouth was slightly agape as he stood there gawking at you like you just told him to perform an entire circus act, so you patted your neck for good measure. His Adam’s apple moved as he gulped and moved his lithe body back onto your bed and as he came closer, you suddenly got increasingly more unsure about your own decision. Your hands uselessly grabbed the bedsheets as your pet bat turned vampire peered down at you from his kneeling position on the side of your bed.

“Are you really sure?” – he questioned in a silent voice as his eyes flitted between your face and your clenching hands.

“You can say no, you know. I know how to take care of myself”, his hand came to rest above yours, slightly massaging it as he spoke, “you taking care of me just did something to me. Something I haven’t felt in a couple of years. I don’t really want to leave but I’d hate to hurt you even more.”

The moonlight shining through your blinds made his gentle eyes seem all the more sweet and inviting, casting a soft glow around his head.

Lost for words, you nodded at him, signaling for him to continue but he wouldn’t have it, his bottom lip jutting out in a dramatic pout.

“You have to say it, darling” – he began to reposition his body to lay beside you, stretching out his long legs and propping up his head with his hand. His free hand reached out to caress your cheek and you wondered how you were supposed to say anything comprehensible if someone so beautiful and irresistible was touching you, albeit innocently.

“You can bite me, drink from me, whatever you want” – you answered him finally even if it was a bit shaky and a smile broke through his features.

“Let’s stop at drinking, hm?”

And then he was on you, the hand on your cheek now angling your head the other way so he could reach your neck the way that he wanted. The sensation of his plush lips coming into contact with your clammy skin in a gentle kiss made you gasp. Hyunjin let out a deep chuckle before his fangs punctured your neck.

The contrast between the harshness of his fangs and the loving hold he had on you made you even more dizzy than just the general bloodloss. You found that your hands had wandered from the bedsheets to the front of his shirt, tangling themselves into the silky fabric, unsure if they wanted to pull him closer or push him away.

It felt like an eternity had passed when he finally removed himself from you slowly but not before giving a tender kiss to the wound almost as if it was an apology.

“Thank you” – he licked his lips contently before moving to get up entirely. You didn’t want him to leave, your hands stayed twisted in his shirt. He giggled and you countered with a whine.

“Don’t go, Hyunjin… please.”

The vampire hadn’t expected you to be this needy after a simple bite but who was he to refuse?

“I’m not gonna leave, sweetheart. I drank from you, so it’s only right I make sure you don’t feel like shit in the morning, don’t you think? Let me take care of you.”

Well, when he put it like that. His words soothed the gnawing anxiety at the back of your head and your grip on him loosened, your eyes droopy and your body tired.

As you slowly drifted off to sleep, Hyunjin made sure to grab everything he needed to take care of you in the morning.

He grabbed the blankets from the windowsill and curled up beside your sleeping form, already giddy at the thought that you were fonder of him than he had originally assumed and that he could spend the morning with you.

And as he watched you sleep with fondness in his eyes and his heart calling out to you, he thought that maybe it was worth it to get into a fight with a random stray cat.

[calmcoldevening]

Hey hon, just read your Art x virgin HC. Although I kinda wanted to pick your brain on reader x confused inexperienced Virgin! Art…

Virgin!Art the clown x reader

Tw: smut, nsfw

Note: it's short but I tried. Show this guy real pleasure, babe

• Art got used to the fact that his human body was capable of feeling cold or in rare cases needing food, although his demonic abilities still made him immortal. But some other physiological issues remained incomprehensible to him.

• Art doesn't know how or why he left you alive and relatively unharmed, but your presence seemed almost bearable to him. He is used to the fact that you are often around, that you cook for him and from time to time blow his brains out with your discontent, like why he left traces of blood on the floor in your bathroom again.

• But it was okay, really okay. Art got used to it after a couple of weeks, accepting it as his new reality. At least you didn't scream once again and didn't try to turn him over to the police (he knew perfectly well that some boys in blue wouldn't stop him in any way, but he didn't want to shine once again before his next loud bloody "show")

• But sometimes he wondered why your body was different from his own. He's seen you change clothes or walk around the house in just a towel or underwear a hundred times, and he's seen women's bodies under his knife a million more times. And it really occupied his brain. The difference was obvious.

• Art saw some guys flirting with you in a bar a few times, and it pissed him off. You tried to laugh it off and try to get away from the guys, but they kept trying to touch you (of course, Art personally strangled them later). But he was interested in touching you as well. It looked strange, new to him.

• The first time he saw you naked, you never thought it would do anything to him. After all, you knew that Art wasn't really human, so you didn't expect any obvious reaction.

• But one day you came home pretty drunk and climbed up to Art with hugs. It was just awkward hugs on the couch and sloppy kisses. You sat on his lap with your arms around his neck and smeared his face paint with your grinning lips, whispering words like 'my handsome'. Art didn't expect any sensations. He had been in this situation before, and then he realized how stupid people can be under the influence of alcohol. But it felt different with you. He felt a strange burning sensation in his body, and his pants became uncomfortably tight under your warm thighs.

• Then he did not focus on it and the feeling quickly passed. But it came back later, when you weren't drunk anymore. He could just admire you for a long time or follow some female victim, unknowingly imagining you in her place. It made him very hard. His rapid breathing and heartbeat were driving him crazy, although he had long realized that his heart was almost dead in this body.

• But Art, surprisingly, liked the feeling. And the feeling of your weight in his arms was damn tempting.

• Although Art often thought about it, he did not know at all what it was called and why people felt it. That's why you were the one who initiated the whole thing.

• One dark evening, the two of you watched some kind of bloody horror movie that Art especially likes. Although he frowned and condemned the unreality of the bloody scenes with gestures. It is dark outside and heavy rain is dripping, pounding on the windows with force. Your hand gently took his gloved hand, tracing the rough cold knuckles. At first, he does not notice your touch, but gradually your hand moves higher and higher, gently wrapping around his neck. In one deft movement, you straddled his knees, pulling him closer to you by the neck. There's a sly smile on your face. Art's eyes widen in surprise, but he can't deny the anticipation growing in his chest, even though he didn't quite understand what you wanted from him.

• You gently move your hips back and forth, feeling the growing warmth under your body. Art didn't know that feeling. He seemed to be detached from his own body at the moment, but he was warm and pleasant. A strange tingling sensation in his body began to bother him a little. Your hands gently traced the fabric of his suit, your fingers gently glided over his makeup, sloppily smearing black lipstick. Art's hands instinctively rested on your hips, gently squeezing your flesh.

• His body was moving on its own. The strange tingling and growing heat were driving his brain crazy. The warmth of your soft thighs didn't help his frantic thoughts at all. The movie almost became background noise, all Art was focused on right now was you and the feelings you caused him.

• Art let out a soundless moan, feeling himself pressing against your body and feeling an almost painful pressure. But he frowned slightly, pressing your hips harder against his knees, and rolled his eyes for a moment. There was a momentary pleasant sensation through his body, which made his heart beat with renewed vigor, and his breathing quickened. God, you made him feel so good. He had never felt anything like this. His pants instantly got wet, pulling a satisfied chuckle out of you.

• "So fast sweet pie? Why don't we try again? 'm sure you'll like it more."

[kirishwima]

Ohhh pookie i meant to say like they get mad (maybe yell) at her and she starts crying and starts ignoring them for a week i love angst BOOKIE 😩💔🗣️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️❗❗❗❗‼️‼️‼️

+ shiu kong & toji they fine ass mfs 😩‼️

not u putting Mahito up there looking SO YUMMY (pls. i know hes an asshole but he's my guilty pleasure)

anyway, I love this kinda angst, and I've already written a kinda-adjacent smau, so...here's a drabble instead!

JJK guys arguing with you when you tell them you crashed their car

Gojo is pissed. He runs his hand through his hair, and not even his blindfold can protect you from the seething glare he shoots your way.

"You what?!"

You try to explain it away-it was an accident, you didn't mean to, it won't happen again! But you know that though the guy has a dozen different sports cars, the one you borrowed was his prized possession, one he only let you drive because it's you, and well, you're his other most prized possession, in a way.

You expected him to be irritated, to maybe say a word too many while fueled with anger.

What you didn't expect was the yelling. The cussing, all of it reaching a deafening crescendo when he, exasperated, huffs out;

"God, can't you do anything right?"

It felt like the world came crashing down on you, tears welling up in your eyes before you even realized it. Satoru saw that, of course he did, his anger that was boiling and spilling over now freezing cold, his hands reaching out towards you, hovering at your sides.

"Wait I don't-I mean I didn't mean it like that-"

But it's too late, as you shy away from him, wiping tears with closed fists.

He's never been good at comforting you, never knows what to say...he can usually take your mind off of whatever upset you with silly jokes and his trademark humor, but what can he do when he's the cause of it? He simply doesn't know. So he pulls away, lets his hands drop to his sides, mad at you partly, yes, but most of all mad at himself for taking a petty argument too far.

He doesn't talk to you for days. Grabs his pillow and heads to the spare bedroom before you can even suggest doing so yourself, will use the excuse of missions to stay away from you, anything he can do to give you space. He doesn't know how to fix this, you've always been the one urging him to talk about his feelings in this relationship, to stop repressing all he has to say, but without your guidance he's just a lost boy, hurt and uncertain.

He doesn't know what to do-so he does what he does best. Repress, and suppress. Even if the guilt eats him up from the inside.

Geto doesn't say anything at first. He looks to the scratch on his car, arms crossed over his chest, as you helplessly try to explain how it happened, standing right beside him with a pleading look.

He only listens to you half-heartedly, for the most part lost in his own mind, trying to repress the anger threatening to push out of his chest, red and bubbling up to his neck like a witch's cauldron over heat. He knows how scary he can be when he's mad, and as upset as he is with you, the last thing he wants to do is scare you.

"Suguru please...talk to me?" you ask him, meek and quiet and all he can do is offer you a side-eyed glare, expression icy cold.

He doesn't say anything-instead turns and walks away, leaving you to stand there by yourself, tearing up at the thought of him leaving over this. He didn't say a word, nothing-does he just not care enough to argue with you? Was this the final straw in a long list of stupid arguments you've been having lately?

For a week, he barely talks to you. There's nothing but silence between you when you're both at home, though that's a rare occurrence in itself, most of his time spent outside the house-presumably to stay away from you. You buy paint to fix the scratch on the car, only to find out he's already gotten it fixed, without telling you.

For a couple nights you slept in the same bed, backs turned to each other, even if it got uncomfortable, even if your whole body itched with the need to turn around and bury your face against his chest.

He thought he was protecting you by acting this way-he had no clue it'd drive a wedge even further into your relationship.

The third day you got out of bed when you thought he was asleep, grabbed your pillow and a blanket and slept on the couch. Yet somehow in the morning, you woke up in bed again. This kept happening for a few days, though neither of you ever brought it up.

Suguru wanted to talk to you, fix things-he wanted to so bad, but the thought of you potentially looking to him with disdain, or even worse-with fear in your eyes, was too much for him to bear. So he stayed away. He'll continue to do so, unless you make the first move.

Nanami sighs, rubs the bridge of his nose-like a father tired of having to scold his child. And he plays the part, makes you feel so small as he chastises you over the mishap, his tone never rising, not really, though irritation quite clearly seeps into his voice.

"Kento, I know I made a mistake-" you start, trying to show him your point of view, but he quickly shuts you down with an annoyed glare.

"A mistake would be one thing. This is just plain stupid."

And you feel your very heart clam up, seeing the man you love assess you so coolly. He doesn't say much else after that, merely that 'he'll get it fixed' before getting up, leaving you alone in the living room, your knuckles turning white with the way you dug your fingers onto your lap to keep from screaming.

He's not exactly...distant, but he's definitely colder in the upcoming days. Nanami's never been a fan of PDA, so on the surface, things look relatively normal. But at home? He avoids your touch expertly, like he would when maneuvering away from a cursed spirit's attack, he sleeps on the very edge of the bed-yet stubbornly continues to sleep in the same bed as you, toying between the lines of anger and care that has you pulling at your own hair.

You'd think he'd be more mature-he has that vibe about him, is always so responsible. And yet he never knows how to handle his own emotions, especially not when it comes to you. He'll have dinner ready for you on the kitchen counter when you get home from work, yet he won't take a seat and eat with you like he usually would. He'll do the laundry when it's his turn to do so, expertly fold it and store your clothes at their exact usual place, yet won't have a single conversation with you on the matter. He's the best roommate you could have-but as a boyfriend, that's a whole other story.

You know he cares, deep down he still loves you...but he's stubborn, always has been, and won't breech the topic unless you do, first.

Toji is a dick.

He really is. He lent you his car, the best up, old Honda Civic with the rearview mirror missing, the one he's crashed about a dozen times. Yet when you 'fess up to him that you scratched it, he gets so mean.

"You're a dumbass, don't you know how to fuckin' drive?!" he yells, and yells, and yells. Even with tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, he doesn't stop, keeps at it-until he raises a hand to emphasize his point, and you flinch.

He knows he's an asshole. He does, but for you to think he could ever hurt you...he freezes, arm slowly dropping back down, finally quiet.

Toji doesn't know how to apologize. He's never had to before, more used to leaving a difficult situation than bother facing it. But he doesn't want to leave this, leave you-so he stays there, a long moment, noticing the tears in your eyes, the way you avoid his gaze.

He doesn't know why he acts this way, he fucking wishes he did. He knows he loves you, knows he cares so, so much, so why? Why does he act like a feral dog, when he wants you to be his leash so badly?

You're the one that walks away first, turning your back as you exit the room, slamming the door behind you. And for his part, he lets you, afraid he'd bare his fangs and bite if he followed you, even if he doesn't want to. He's left every good thing he ever found in his life, knowing that if he'd stay he'd mess it up, break it beyond repair.

God, he hopes so desperately he didn't ruin you, too. Perhaps he should leave. Before it's too late.

[skullvgirl]

needy!nagi ིྀ | headcannons

incl. nagichi ≧▽≦

warnings: school!au, suggestive, fem reader, fluff ooc ( ? )

an's: idrk if this follows the theme of [ ooc trait x character ] yall, nagi is kinda need no?

needy!nagi who follows you around, everyyyywhere, like theres an invisible leash attached to your hand and his neck, you literally had to force him too leave when he tried following you into the bathroom

needy!nagi who calls for you to do even the littlest things, because somehow you 'do it better' or 'make it look easier'

needy!nagi who forgets all rules physical boundaries when he's near you, who has to hold you always and for as long as possible

needy!nagi who makes the biggest fuss when you have to leave the house without him. even if it's just a 5 minute outting from your house to the store he acts like your moving half way across the world { but you are he'd say }

needynagi who texts you all the time, 24/7 365 days a year is always blowing up your phone asking you and talking about the most redicoulus things

"did you tie your shoes before you went out ?"

"did you make sure too look both ways when crossing the street?"

and don't even get me started on when he's needy, needy

an obnoxious and repetitive beeping sounds on your alarm and you groan, twisting your body uncomfortably in the shared bed sheets before finally turning it off.

"seriously morning already..." you mumbled quietly, the darkness shrouding your thoughts.

i need to get ready for school.

and you did just that. at least you were going to before you realized there was another person in your bed, someone who felt very familiar.

oh no...

"nagi ???" you whisper-yelled it, patting his face lightly and turning the lamp on to get a clear veiw of your boyfriend.

"nagi wake up, your not supposed to be here" you sat up and began shakimg him this time.

nagi only groaned and wrapped his arms around his arms around your waist, nuzzling into the side of your thigh. "shhh, m' tryna sleep"

you shook your head and attempted to unwrap his hands from your body, with much struggle, he was surprising strong for being half asleep.

"nagi stop, nagi it's monday—a school day, you were supposed to be gone last night, why didn't your parents pick you up?"

"didnt tell them too"

"didnt tell them too...whadday mean didn't tell them too—im gonna get in trouble—wait a minute, nagi you didn't..."

"didnt what" his voice unmuffled as he moved his head to rest on your lap, his eyes staring directly at your own.

"you didnt lie to your parents and say you could stay for the whole week...did you?" you cupped his cheeks, studying his expression.

he didn't answer, "kiss me"

"nagi now is not the time—"

"kiss me pretty, please?"

you stared at him for a moment before leaning down, softly pressing your lips on his.

"good now?"

he looked dazed, and he was quiet so long you'd thought he didn't hear you. "almost"

your hands which had previously been rubbing soothing strokes across his face were quickly held behind your back.

he kissed your belly softly, relentlessly pressing butterflies into your body. "nagi that tickles" you giggled, trying to break free from his grasp.

"really? does it?" he murmured, rubbing his nose in the crevasse of your thigh.

"it does, now let go we have to get ready for school before my parents wake up"

he continued nuzzling your body however, then began slowly pushing his other hand against your chest to lean you back.

"i can make you feel alot more than tickling if you let me"

your cheeks felt hot. jeez, what has gotten into him !

"mmh, tempting but we cant and you know that—look it's already 6:09 we gotta g—OH!"

your stentence was cut off by the sensation of nagi feeling you through your shorts. his hands releasing your wrists long ago, he was now tugging at your pj's in hot desperation, probing his nose against your—

"nagi! what are you doing! school remember? we have to be there at 7"

"but do we reallyyyy..." nagi groaned, the vibrations sending shudders up your spine.

"y-yes, really, we have to be there, my parents own this house remember? not me"

"fine, but ill only go under one condition"

you sighed in preparation, for whatever rediculous reason was coming your way.

"and that is?"

"i get to stay over for the rest of the week AND, you sit on this right here..." he pointed too his mouth, and you squeezed your thighs together at the proposition.

"nagi, staying over defeats the purpose of you leaving, a-and i dont think that second option would be good for us either..."

"you wanna test to see?"

"i-i,—test and see what?"

"how bad our second option would be"

"..." he began moving in your silence, flipping your legs over his shoulders and kissing your belly once again.

"i'll take that as a yes"

an's: nagi is needy but somehow this still came out ooc, ( do i consider that a win or what...? )